#his javi p was something else
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Not So Secret Santa
javier peña x fem!reader
this is a part of the @pedrostories gift exchange!!
summary : you get the only person you didn't want for your offices secret santa.
warnings/tags : 18+ mdni, enemies/friends to lovers, canon divergence, steve is your boss/close friend, reader and javier have a complicated relationship, reader is insecure, brief mentions of alcohol, porn with plot, smut, light angst, javier and reader fight physically but it's very light with no actual injury, masturbation, semi-public sex, p in v, idk how to properly tag this but javi likes boobs in this so he touches boobs, unprotected sex (don't do this, wrap it this holiday season), use of a makeshift gag, rough yet very loving sex because it's christmas and christmas magic means i can write what i want.
tldr : you and javi have sex in his office and you put his tie in his mouth to shut him up.
word count : 4.4k
✦ : merry christmas @taro-666 !!! i'm your secret santa !!! i hope you're well this holiday season and i hope you enjoy this fic !! i haven't written much peña, despite how much i love him so i hope i did him justice and i hope you have a wonderful holiday <3 <3 (also sorry this is a little late (20 minuetes left before midnight so we're good). i was out with family all day and was only just now able to get to my laptop, i promise i didn't forget about you lmao)
no use of y/n, reader has hair and painted nails & javier sort of half picks her up at one point, nothing else is described besides clothing.
lovely dividers by @saradika-graphics
“Please, Steve, I’ll give you a week's pay.” You lean across his desk, genuine desperation in your voice after an hour of begging.
“Not gonna happen.” He doesn’t even bother looking up from his computer.
“A month.” Your voice is starting to pitch up, something similar to anguish in your tone. Your offer finally gets a reaction out of him as his eyes widen, head tilting up.
“Jesus, you can’t be serious.” He’s examining your expression, trying to determine the sincerity of your claim.
“My entire Christmas bonus.”
“Okay, stop.” He sighs, giving you a sympathetic look. “We’re not allowed to switch.”
“When did you become such a stickler for the rules?” You cross your arms in front of your chest.
“It’s just a secret Santa. He’s our friend, whether you like it or not, you two are close and this shouldn’t be this big of a deal, now go, please, I need to finish up here so I can leave at a reasonable hour.” He loosens his tie as you sigh.
“It’s not just a secret Santa, Steve. It’s an opportunity for him to tell me that I once again didn’t do something right. No matter what I get him, it isn’t going to be good enough.” Even as you’re saying it you can see that he isn’t going to change his mind about this.
“He’s a dick to everybody. That’s inevitable, it just means he’s comfortable with you.” He’s already turning back to his work.
“Please, Steve.”
“No.”
You glare down at him, giving him your angriest look as his gaze tilts back up to meet yours.
When it’s clear that he isn’t going to switch you turn and leave, slamming his office door in the process.
“Don’t forget, I need you here early to help set up for the party!” His muffled voice seeps out into the hall as you walk away.
Once you’re out in your car and far away from prying eyes you unfold the damned slip of paper you’d drawn earlier today.
Javier P.
Of course, you got stuck with fucking Peña, a nickname you’d given him a few months ago. He absolutely hates it but the entire time you’ve worked for the DEA he’s gone out of his way to bother you. Sure, he’s your “friend”, in a strange, complicated way. But he still drives you up the wall with his constant need to one up you and the way he’s constantly making passes at women around the office.
And it’s not like you have any problems with him sleeping around, lord knows you’ve had a fair amount of one night stands, but he just has to hit on every woman you work with.
Every single woman, except you.
You’d never admit it of course but a part of you will always be self conscious about that fact. It doesn’t help that Javier absolutely adores bothering you at every possible moment. He loves nothing more than to pester, annoy, and mock you, spending nearly half his day leaning over your desk despite the million complaints you’ve sent Steve about his persistent partner.
He’ll sit on your desk, doing an endless amount of things to cause you distress. Like crowding you with his cigarette smell and vanilla cologne as he tells you you’re filling papers wrong, or telling you what colors to paint your nails, or solving your cases before you can even get to them, or teasing you about your shitty car. Today he wouldn’t stop bothering you about your weekend plans like he doesn’t already know exactly where you’ll be.
“Are you doing anything this weekend?” He’d asked with that devastating smirk and eyebrow raise combo.
“I have to go buy my secret Santa gift, just like everyone else.” You’d turned away, avoiding eye contact as he scoffed.
“What about Saturday?” He continued to pry, you wanted nothing more than to shove his perfect ass off your desk.
“The Christmas party, Javi. Just like everyone else.” You had sighed, squeezing the bridge of your nose as Emilia had walked past your desk. Javier immediately forgot your entire conversation as he turned to her.
“I love your nails.” He’d pushed his hair out of his face, holding his hand out to take hers, getting a closer look at the well manicured designs.
You had tuned out after that. Not wanting to be involved in the exchange as you went back to typing. Acutely aware of your own nails.
Red chipped paint.
You couldn’t help but wonder what it must be like to be the object of his affection.
It wouldn’t matter if he did hit on you, you would probably reject him anyway.
Probably.
It doesn’t matter, it’s never gonna happen so why let it bother you?
With a sigh you toss the paper into your cup holder, reaching to turn on the radio, maybe some Christmas music will make you feel better. Of course nothing happens as you turn up the volume knob but it makes you want to scream regardless.
Stupid fucking Peña.
Stupid broken radio, stupid shitty car.
“Fuck.” You mumble under your breath as you shift into drive.
Before you know it you’re back in your car in the DEA office parking lot, this time a few things are different though.
You’re dressed nicer, trading your slacks in for a skirt and your dress shirt for a sweater. And of course you now have a small wrapped box in your lap.
Since you had yesterday off for the holiday you spent your Friday at the mall, searching for a gift for Javier. Eventually you had settled on three little things; Nicotine gum, mostly because you’ll get more work done if he isn’t constantly dragging you outside for his smoke breaks. He complains too much about going alone and it’s always been easier not to argue, now he can stay at your desk with his gum. Beard oil, the fancy stuff he always insists on using in his mustache. You’d bought him the wrong kind last year for his birthday and you still haven’t heard the end of it. And a lighter, you had to beg the shop owner to make an exception and do a same day engraving of his birthday.
Jesus.
You know way too much about him.
You arrived two hours early as requested by Steve to help him set up. With the wrapped box tucked under your arm you anxiously tap the patterned wrapping paper with your freshly manicured nails.
“You should paint your nails green, I love green.” He had said through a drag of his cigarette.
Why did you let that idiot's opinions influence this decision? You feel foolish. The green chrome polish shimmering in the street lights in the parking lot as you step into the building. You had extra time while you were waiting for the engraving and you just couldn’t help yourself when the salon was just a few stores away. The image of Javier holding your hand and examining your painted nails while telling you how nice they looked was just too tempting. Maybe he’d even ask if you did it just for him, and you could drag him into a closet at the party, the exact situation you watched unfold last year. Except in that scenario you weren’t the lucky lady he’d run off with that night.
There’s no time to be thinking like that.
You shake off whatever filth you were imagining as you look around the hectic mess of garland and glitter.
Steve is already stressing, setting up tables as you set your gift under the tree before getting to work. The office is already mostly decorated but with his new position as supervisor Steve is insistent that everything be perfect his first Christmas in charge. So you plate food, and you mix drinks exactly as he wants them, and you hold the ladder steady when he insists on putting more lights up. When you’ve got about a half an hour before guests start arriving you’re finishing up and last minute touches, the two of you crowded around a drink tower.
The tension from your conversation yesterday seems to have fizzled out as you become engrossed in your work, when you’ve both finished he gives you an appreciative look.
“Thank you, seriously, it means a lot.” You help him adjust his tie as he straightens out his shirt.
“Anytime, although I’m surprised you didn’t just ask Javier.” You pat his shoulder as you finish, brushing a stray blonde hair out of his eyes.
He laughs, a nervous chuckle that makes you raise an eyebrow but when you open your mouth to comment on it he lets out a relieved sigh as the first of your coworkers arrive.
More people show up than you could have expected.
You stay near Steve for most of the beginning until he gets dragged away by one of the higher ups who had made an appearance, leaving you alone to sip your drink against the back wall. You hum along to a Christmas song that plays loud enough to drown out any conversation you might eavesdrop on to entertain yourself in his absence, your eyes scan the crowds as you try to match up the people you work with with their spouses.
You’re getting ready to find another group to talk to when you catch a glimpse of him standing against the opposite wall, talking to Bonnie, the woman who works in the cubicle next to yours.
Fucking Peña. Dressed in a stupidly tight green dress shirt.
You should leave them alone, especially if he’s trying to make a move on her. But you can’t help it as you make your way around the room towards them, a vague sense of jealousy settling in your stomach.
String lights twinkle across the ceiling of the office, creating a warm ambience throughout the space, just as you’re about to tap him on the shoulder you overhear their conversation.
“I had to beg Steve to switch with me, took an hour of convincing and a week's paycheck but it’ll be worth it to see the look on her face.” His back is to you as he leans in closer to Bonnie.
He’s probably talking about one of the other women from the office. Steve probably had someone Javier was trying to impress and that’s why Steve didn’t want to trade with you, he had already promised his pick to Javier.
Whatever, you can’t be too bothered about that. It does make you want to return to your spot on the other side of the room but you don’t get the chance to as the music is turned down rather suddenly.
One of the secretaries, Benjamin, stands on a chair, making an announcement that it’s time to do the secret Santa. You manage to twist through the crowds so Javier never sees you, finding his gift and bringing it to where he now stands, simultaneously keeping an eye out for your own gift.
You hand him the box, watching the way his face lights up.
“You picked me?” He grins as you nod, carefully peeling back the wrapping paper as you feel a tap on your shoulder. Benjamin waits behind you, leaning in to whisper while you watch Javier open his gift.
“It was short notice so we didn’t have time to get you a back up gift but your secret Santa told us at the last minute that he forgot to get you something, he promised to bring in something after New Years, I’m so sorry.” You feel a little disappointed as he murmurs but it isn’t that big of a deal, it’s a busy time of year and people can forget things.
“No worries, do you know who it was? I’d like to at least tell them it’s fine.” You turn away from Javier as he smiles at the nicotine gum, Benjamin's eyes flicker from your face to Javier’s before he gives you a sympathetic look, walking away.
Javier traded for your name?
As your head tilts to look at him now you can see the smirk he’s now sporting.
“ …but it’ll be worth it to see the look on her face.”
Javier had made a conscious effort to get your name just so he could not get you something.
Huh.
That doesn’t feel great. The look he gets to see on your face is betrayal and then just sadness. You don’t really care what the reason for his decision is, you turn and walk away from him regardless. If he tries to say something to you it’s drowned out by the music that starts once again.
Why are you so upset over some stupid joke? If it had been anyone else you wouldn’t have cared, you’d have brushed it off as a harmless accident but this wasn’t an accident.
Maybe he didn’t really think of you as a friend.
Maybe all of the teasing and one-upmanship really was from a place of animosity and you were just too blind and too infatuated to see it. You want to cry but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction so you sift through the bowl of keys, searching for the Star Wars keychain attached to your lanyard but you can’t find it. The combination of the blaring Christmas songs with the frustration you’re currently feeling only makes you more emotional.
You don’t want to go to the bathrooms where you might run into someone and you can’t go to Steve’s office because he might be talking to his supervisor, so you go to the only place you know there won’t be people.
Javier’s office.
You walk as quickly as you can, slipping inside as you slam the door shut behind you, clicking the lock in place before turning around, resting against the door as you feel tears spilling from your eyes. It isn’t until he clears his throat that your head snaps up.
Today is just not your day.
Did he know you’d come here? How the hell did he beat you here? He’s fidgeting with the lighter you bought him, watching it light and go out as he sits with your keys in his other hand.
Your face feels hot as you take in the sight of him.
“Give me my keys.” You hold your hand out, wiping your eyes with the other as you wait. Of course he doesn’t hand them over, that would be too easy and today is insisting on being difficult.
“I really liked your gift. Seriously, this is… outrageously thoughtful.” He murmurs, seemingly unaware of your mood until he takes a closer look at you, his expression shifting as he realizes your eyes are rimmed with red. “Why are you so upset? What happened?” He slides open a drawer, tossing your keys into his desk while you consider calling a cab.
What a foolish question.
How could he possibly not know?
“I want to leave, I’m sick of this party.” You turn to leave, maybe Steve can drive you home.
“Come on, the parties barely started.” He’s on his feet, he doesn’t try to corner you, if anything he sets himself against the wall.
“And I want to leave.” When you reach for the doorknob he grabs your wrist, holding it as he stares at you, a look of impatience crosses his face.
“Don’t tell me you’re mad about the secret Santa.” His brows furrow.
“This isn’t about a stupid secret Santa.”
“It sure seems like it is.” He’s still holding your wrist, why is he still holding your wrist?
This isn’t about the secret Santa. It’s a lot more than that, and after ages of keeping your thoughts to yourself in front of him you just let it out.
“This is about the fact that you don’t even care about me enough to make any sort of effort. I know you deliberately chose me, you specifically chose to do this to me and I don’t care that it’s just a stupid prank. It still- It’s still a shitty thing to do.” Your voice starts cracking half way through and you can feel your eyes welling up again but it doesn’t matter anymore, you were wrong, the two of you aren’t friends.
“So this is about the secret Santa.”
Of course he wouldn’t get it.
“You’re an idiot.” You finally pull your wrist from him.
You aren’t sure what else to do so you shove him, his back hitting the wall with a soft thud as you push past him to get to his desk, hoping to grab your keys but he catches your waist first.
“Can you stop being so stubborn for five seconds and just let me explain myself?” You can tell his patience is wearing thin, his voice is strained as he pulls you back against him, caging you against his chest with his arms.
“Fuck Javi- let me go-” You try to kick his knees but he anticipates it, shifting his legs to avoid you.
“Just wait- listen to me.” He swings you around a bit as he tries to still you, you can feel his breath hitching, the buttons of his shirt digging into your back. The two of you thrash around for another moment until you freeze, feeling something poking your hip. When he realizes why you stopped putting up a fight he lets you go in an instant. “Shit- I-I’m sorry.” He stammers as you turn around towards him, eyes wide.
You never thought you’d see Javier Peña flustered yet here he is. When you take a step back his cheeks are burning red, his fingers twitch nervously at his side, and as much as you try to ignore it, his pants are tighter than usual. (And considering how tight they usually are this is quite a feat.) He won’t look you in the eye.
“It- It’s fine, Javi.” You adjust the hem of your skirt, trying to fix your hair. You just can’t catch a break today. “It was an accident, there was a lot of- of friction and it happens. I think I should just go.” You stutter a bit trying to find the right words. This entire evening has been catastrophic, and you’re more than ready to call it a night.
“It’s not an accident.” He mumbles, finally looking at you, not bothering with subtlety as he adjusts himself. “You should probably go.”
If it’s not an accident you don’t want to go.
You want to stay and keep making accidents, starting with rushing forward into him, taking his face in your hands and kissing him. Which is exactly what you do. At first he doesn’t react and you worry you read the situation wrong but when you pull away, just an inch, his hands envelop you.
Hips, waist, back, shoulders, hair. He’s everywhere, all consuming as his teeth graze your lips, in an instant your backside hits his desk.
When he finally does remove his lips from yours his are slick and a tiny bit swollen, his pupils swallow his irises whole.
“I loved your gift, I wasn’t joking, it’s perfect and the last thing I want is for you to think that I don’t care about you. Of course we’re friends, you-” As he rambles on you ball up the end of his tie, unceremoniously shoving it between his teeth.
“Talk later, this now.” You grab the bottom of your sweater, pulling it up over your head, watching his jaw tense at the sight of your chest, his hands playing with the strap of your bra as you hop up onto his desk. Hiking your skirt up, he slots himself between your legs, your own fingers push your panties to the side as he reaches behind you, easily twisting the clasp of your bra to release it, tossing it to the side as his enormous palms engulf your breasts.
You dip your fingers into the wetness between your legs, briefly taking a moment to wonder how you found yourself here. Just moments ago you were ready to leave and consider your friendship with Javier over, yet now you’re spread out on his desk, on display for him as you sink your fingers into your eager cunt.
You don’t get to linger on the thought for long because he groans into the fabric of his tie and you’re pulled back into the moment.
Jesus you’re soaked.
You have no trouble pushing two slick digits into yourself. You can feel the outline of him against your thigh and you know that you need to warm yourself up to take him. He’s too engrossed in your tits to do it right now and you’ve waited too long for this, you don’t want to wait, you just want to have him.
He’s tender at first, squeezing and softly tracing the outline of your areola until he seemingly can’t control himself any longer and he pinches, rolling your nipples between his thumb and pointer finger as your whine. Back arching of the oak of his desk as you curl your own fingers. Even through the tie his moans are still somehow louder than yours, you’re briefly worried about someone hearing as you let out a whimper while he tweaks your nipple but the music’s so loud at the party you can hear Mariah Carey from here.
You don’t stop for a second, putting your focus on reaching the peak that you find yourself already getting startlingly close to. You can feel yourself pulsing as you pick up the pace, reveling in the way his eyes devour the very sight of you. You’re agonizingly close when he grabs your wrist, removing your fingers carefully as you try and resist, wanting to finish what you started, you’re about to whine when he begins unzipping his pants. You can feel your pussy clenching at the very sight of him, of course he isn’t wearing any underwear under his dress pants so the second his zipper is fully down his cock springs free.
Javier fucking Peña has a gorgeous cock.
Standing stiff and proud without either one of you even having to touch it. Pretty and pink on the tip, already leaking down the shaft. And heavy, as he takes it in his hand, his other hand gripping your waist as lines himself at your entrance. He takes a moment, eyes scanning your face, silently asking for permission.
You can’t nod fast enough but the second that you do he slides into you.
You could never conjure up something this good in your fantasies. The way he fills you, stretching you open as he whimpers into the fabric of his tie, you like that he listened, that he kept it in his mouth this long. His strokes are needy and fast, like he’s been waiting for this for so long and now he can’t help but be ravenous. You were already painfully close before he filled you with his perfect cock, it takes only a few minutes for you to be right back there. His fingers dig into your waist so hard that you’re certain he’ll leave marks as he slams in and out of you, pulling out almost entirely with every thrust.
You’re vaguely aware of the sound of his trinkets rolling off his desk and onto the floor.
“Javi, Javi, Javi.” Between gasps you chant his name, the sound encouraging him as he pushes in deep, his pelvis grinding against your clit until you see stars. Your cunt clenching around him as your orgasm is ripped out of you. Messy and loud and blurry, he fucks you through it. You’re so blissed out you can barely focus on the persistent pounding into you until you manage to come back to your senses and his hands leave your waist, instead intertwining with your fingers as his hips twitch forward and you feel him hastily pull out of you.
He spits his tie out, opting to instead bite your shoulder as he comes, the groan that leaves his throat is obscene. Raspy and filthy as he collapses down on top of you, the two of you sweating and gasping amongst the paperwork and pens now scattered across his desk.
Did that really just happen?
He manages to collect himself first, leaning back and tucking himself into his pants before quickly tending to you. He grabs a few tissues, wiping your stomach where the product of your activities lay, before redressing you, slipping the flats that had slipped off, back onto your feet, pulling your skirt back down to cover you as he slides your panties back into place, and retrieving your bra and sweater, lifting you into a sitting position as he redresses you, kissing your cheeks, nose, and forehead the entire time.
“All good?” He whispers, gentler than you’ve ever heard him as you nod, grinning.
“Good enough to make me forgive you for not getting me a present.” You reach into his drawer, grabbing your keys before sliding off of his desk.
“Maybe this was your present.” He tilts his head, kissing you again, smiling all the while.
“That was the perfect gift then.” Probably the best you’ve ever gotten.
“Are you gonna stay for the rest of the party?” He takes your hands in his, his thumbs absentmindedly rubbing circles into your skin.
“I think I need to go to bed after that.” You laugh as you jingle your keys, turning towards the door as he catches your lips in another kiss.
It makes your heart flutter. The continued affection makes you think this isn’t a one time thing. You want more. You want conversations about feelings, and to talk about what just happened, you want to feel him inside you again, and the look in his eyes tells you that you’re going to get all of that. But right now you’re tired, so the rest can wait.
“Can I walk you to your car?” You nod as he murmurs.
He doesn’t let go of your hand, walking you out of the building towards your car, opening the door for you and giving you one last kiss with a promise that he’d call you tomorrow, before you watched him walk back into the building.
Your phone buzzes as you turn your key in the ignition, the sound of Wham! fills the car, Last Christmas playing softly. You take your phone out of your pocket, checking the text notification from Javier.
[ i forgot to tell you how pretty your nails are. merry christmas hermosa ]
Your head turns up in surprise as you realize your radio is working. A new radio system is installed in the center of your dashboard, with a little green bow taped to the top, and a paper tag with Javi’s familiar messy handwriting.
from : your secret fucking santa
a/n : happy holidays everyone!!
#pedrostoriesgift23#lincolndjarin#taro-666 <3#javier pena smut#javier peña#javier pena fanfiction#javier pena narcos#javier pena x reader#pedro pascal fic#pedro pascal
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ummm hi this is so random i just needed to tell someone about this cause no one i know likes pedro
so i was watching s1 narcos and javi was wearing this fkn white half sleeved shirt and they knew what they were fucking doing and i’m dying he’s so fkn hot what do i do!!, if i was interning for him and he walked in the room wearing that oh my fkn god i would be dead sorry for this rant
soaked (javier peña x f!reader) 18+
so as usual what was meant to be a little drabble became a full-fledged fic. what is wrong with me????? this outfit is truly insane though and i couldn't stop thinking about it getting wet 👀 i hope you enjoy xo (and thank you anon for the inspo and for telling me what episode this lovely shirt was in!)
summary: it's hard being an intern for a man who won't even look at you, but maybe there's something else to it that you don't see.
rating: 18+ explicit
warnings: smut, blowjobs, deepthroating, protected p in v sex, praise kink, dirty talk, size kink (javi has a big dick), biting, probably bad spanish (blame google)
word count: 6k (this was supposed to be a drabble!!!!!!! wtf!!!!!!!!)
ao3
You're pretty sure you're going to quit your job.
You've been an intern at the DEA for about a month now, in charge of extremely mundane things like pouring coffee and organizing paperwork. No one really talks to you other than Steve Murphy, one of the agents you're assigned to, and even then he's too busy to really give you much attention. It's lonely and boring, and part of you thinks you might have quit already, if it wasn't for...
"Morning, asshole," Javier Peña enters the office with long strides, tossing a stack of papers toward your (very tiny) desk. You can't help but stare at him, swallowing nervously as you assess the plain white shirt he's wearing, loosely tucked into his tight jeans and accentuating his strong, tan arms. How does he always look so good? His hair is messy, brown curls tangled and sticking up in places like he's just rolled out of bed, and he probably has. The faint scent of whisky that follows him tells you all you need to know about how he spent his evening.
You're worried for only half a second that he's talking to you, but you realize his gaze is directed toward Steve, who simply shrugs.
"You didn't have to come," he replies with a laugh, "You coulda said no."
"To your fucking wife? Please." Javier sits down in his chair with force, leaning back to immediately put his long legs up on his desk and reach for a cigarette from his pocket, "She was excited about it, you dick."
Steve just laughs again, turning back to his work, "You did the right thing, man. I don't know what else to say."
You wish you understood the story, knew what they were playfully ribbing each other about, but for the past month you've been on the outside of their relationship. Steve gives you reassuring smiles and some small talk every now and then but it's not enough to feel like you actually belong there, not to mention that Javier has only spoken to you once. Even now, as you rise from your chair to pour some fresh coffee into his mug, he doesn't even look at you.
"You owe me," he says to Steve, lighting up his cig, "Pendejo."
As you pour his coffee you can't help but notice the way the collar of his shirt rides low enough for you to see his collarbones, see the light dusting of hair smattered across his dark skin. There's a few droplets of sweat here and there, and you resist the urge to lean forward and press your tongue to each one.
"I'll have some more too, sweetheart," Steve says behind you, and your thoughts scatter as you pull back from Javier's mug to go re-fill Steve's. You're aware of the way Steve's eyes trail to your breasts, hidden only by a thin layer of blue fabric; it makes you self conscious and also a bit confused. Steve has never looked at you that way before, "That's a nice blouse," he says to you with a smile, eyes going back up to your face, "My wife has one similar to that."
"Thank you," you say quietly, finishing filling up his mug and wanting to go back over to your desk as soon as possible; you don't like the idea of a married man ogling you.
"Isn't this a nice blouse, Javi?" Steve continues, and you freeze.
What is Steve doing? Is he trying to get you insulted? You turn slightly to look at Javier, coffee pot trembling slightly in your hand when you see that he's got an irritated expression painting his face, mouth downturned in a stern frown.
"Thin ice, Steve," Javier replies and takes another drag from his cigarette, his eyes set firmly on Steve's face, not even bothering to even look at the blouse in question.
"What? It's nice," Steve seems to be feigning innocence, yet again another inside joke you're not apart of. Except this time it's at your expense and you're not sure how that makes you feel. Suddenly Steve reaches up and takes a ruffle of your blouse near your arm between his fingers, "Really soft, too."
"Steve," Javier repeats, eyes dark, "Thin. Ice."
You look from Javier to Steve and back to Javier, absolutely bewildered. It's like things are being said but you can't hear them, have no idea what kind of secret language they're speaking. You pull away from Steve a bit, feeling uncomfortable.
"I'm gonna go put this back," you say quietly, referring to the coffee pot.
"Of course, sweetheart, I won't keep you," Steve gives you a wink and you know something is off. From what you've gathered so far from your time here, Steve loves his wife, has a picture of her on his desk right in front of him that you always catch him looking at. You've only been here a month but you swear he's mentioned her every single day, if not to you then to Javier, if not to Javier then to another intern or agent. So why is he suddenly being flirtatious with you?
You leave the room and return the coffee pot, staring at the aged tiles on the wall in front of you and feeling a lump form in your throat. You really do hate it here, you don't know why you've stayed as long as you have.
Yes you do, you idiot.
--
It's raining outside by the time your work day ends and you feel yourself deflate as you walk out the front doors of the DEA; you'd been hoping for the hot weather to continue so you could go for a run and distract yourself from this weird and uncomfortable day, decide whether or not you're going to just quit already. It's like the heavy rainfall is mocking you.
You feel much too depressed to walk home so you go back inside the building and make your way back to the office to call a taxi. Steve passes you in the hallway and slows down, puts his hand up to stop you.
"Hey, I'm sorry for this morning," he says, eyes kind and gentle, "That was inappropriate, I shouldn't have touched your blouse."
You're not sure what to say, giving him a small shrug, "It's, uh, okay. I was just..." you shake your head, "Yeah, never mind, it's okay."
"You're wondering why I did it." he states, frowning, and you almost laugh at his immediate assessment of the situation; deflecting a DEA agent? Not the smartest idea.
"Well, yeah," you shrug, "It was kinda weird. You're usually, um... very respectful so-"
He winces, "I know, I'm sorry. It was just me trying to get on Peña's nerves," he shuffles awkwardly in front of you, shifting the weight from his left leg to his right and back again, "He'd kill me if he knew I was telling you this, but I owe him."
You look at him in total confusion, shaking your head, "I don't understand."
He chuckles, shaking his head, "I know, I'm just trying to figure out how to word it," he bites his lip and then seems to resign himself to something, "Javier... he likes you."
You stare.
"My wife and I, we kind of wrangled him into having dinner with us last night. They were talking, she was askin' him about women, if he'd been on any dates, typical questions," he laughs at the memory, "He said no and she asked if he had his eye on anyone. He said no again, but I know this guy like the back of my hand, I can read him like a book. I knew that second no was a goddamn lie."
Your heart is pounding in your chest but your thoughts are muddled, unable to draw a clear conclusion from what Steve is telling you. You continue to just stand there wordlessly, listening.
"A few drinks later - well, more than a few - I asked him who he had his eye on. You wouldn't believe how easy it was to get it out of him, he just smiled, took a drag of his cig..." Steve acts this out, bringing his cigarette-less fingers to his lips and pretending to take a puff, eyes heavy-lidded and bleary, "And said your name."
You can't believe what you're hearing, there's no way it's true, no way he's telling you about something that actually happened. Your heart continues to pound relentlessly, staring at Steve like he's speaking another language, a million wordless questions flying back and forth in your mind at top speed.
"She's the most beautiful creature I ever saw," he quotes, voice slurred and gravelly, "She's sunshine incarnate."
"But he doesn't even look at me!" you blurt out, eyes wide.
Steve drops his hand and laughs again, shaking his head, "Sweetheart, he looks at you all the time. You're just looking away when he does it."
This revelation hits you hard, makes your breath catch in your throat. Is this actually true? Or is this some sick inside joke they're playing to get you to finally put in your notice, one of their private little games that you're not a part of. On principle it's the most ridiculous thing you've ever heard; the man has spoken to you once, only once, and it was on your first day. He'd introduced himself, shook your hand, and that was that.
"What do you mean you're doing this because you owe him?" you ask, shaking the thoughts away, "Isn't this just humiliating him?"
Steve smiles again, slightly smug, "I see the way you look at him too, you know. I'm not blind," he looks at his watch then and makes a face, "Listen, I gotta go, but if you're heading back to the office, he's still there."
"But, Steve, I-"
"Trust me," he gives you one of his reassuring smiles, "He needs - scratch that - wants someone like you, someone... stable."
You don't think being on the verge of quitting a paid internship would be considered stable, but you understand what he means. You may have only been here a short time but Javier's reputation is widely known around the office, something you've found yourself sympathizing with instead of villainizing him like others do. You know his history with women is pretty bleak relationship wise.
Steve begins to walk away from you, leaving you standing there speechless, "You better hurry before he leaves," he calls. He picks up his pace but you're still able to hear him as he mutters, "and that's my good deed done," then saunters down the hall and disappears around the corner.
--
The office you share with Javier and Steve is the only one still lit on your floor, meaning everyone else has already gone home. You know that Javier likes to stay late sometimes, work on the case alone and look at things from different angles in solitude. You feel nervous as you approach the door, not wanting to bother him. But regardless of whether what Steve said is true, you still need to call a taxi.
You turn the knob and walk inside, trying to be as quiet and slow as possible. Your efforts are pointless though, as Javier looks up from his work and sees you immediately, his eyebrows going up in surprise.
"It's raining," you say softly, awkwardly, "I need to call a cab."
"Right," he nods to you and then returns to his work without an afterthought, writing something down on a piece of paper.
You stand there for a few moments just looking at him, watching his face, trying to find any indication of affection behind those focused eyes, his serious brow. He looks the same as always, lost in thought, scribbling away, handsome as he does it. The white shirt certainly isn't helping; he's unbuttoned it more now, his chest exposed and sunglasses hanging from a button near his pocket. He's so effortlessly gorgeous, it makes you ache.
He must sense you still standing there, not making any move to walk to your desk and pick up the phone. He looks up at you again, brow furrowed, "Do you need something?"
You shake your head quickly, cheeks burning, "N-no, sorry," you shuffle over to your desk and sit down in your chair, doing everything you can to avoid looking over at him again. You think about what Steve said, how Javier is always looking at you but only when you're not aware. You wonder if he's doing it right now.
You reach for the phone, unable to stop your hands from shaking slightly. You're almost sure you feel his gaze on you now, boring into you and watching every move you make, eyes deep and brown and calculating, always calculating. Assessing. What does he make of you? If what Steve said is true, what does he see when he looks at you?
Sunshine incarnate.
You can't help but smile at the words, dialing the number for the taxi slowly as your brain repeats them over and over. Had he really said that about you? And meant it? Your thoughts are so jumbled that you accidentally press the wrong button and have to start over, hanging up the phone quickly before picking it up again.
Just as you go to press the first number, a hand comes down and stops you, brushing against your fingers in a tender and gentle way. You freeze, staring at the hand, knowing it's his, knowing that if he wasn't looking at you before, he certainly is now.
"Why don't I just give you a ride, cariño?" he asks quietly, voice slightly rough around the edges, "I'm heading home now anyway."
You will yourself to look up, eyes capturing his immediately and getting lost in their depths, big and brown and soft and searching. Your lips part but no words come out. You force yourself to give him a nod, repressing the urge to jump up and kiss his mouth, envelop him, hold him close and look even deeper into those soulful eyes.
You stand shakily and walk to the door, feeling his eyes on your back as he follows behind you. The walk down to the main doors of the building is completely silent, save for the clicking of your heels against the linoleum and his heavy masculine breaths at your side. It's still raining once you get outside, and you can't help but make a face.
"Not a fan of the rain?" he asks you a bit loudly over the pelting of water against the concrete, a smile tugging at his lips.
"It's not my favorite," you admit, wincing, "Where are you parked?"
"You stay here where it's dry, I'll pull it up front."
You watch him dart out from under the eaves of the building, rain immediately soaking his white shirt without apology. You watch with wide eyes as his back becomes visible from the downpour, skin a pinkish brown beneath the suddenly translucent material. You catch sight of two dimples near his lower back before he disappears from eyesight.
You swallow, trying to pretend you don't feel yourself begin to throb within the confines of your underwear, a wetness pooling between your legs that has nothing to do with the rain.
Only a few moments later he's pulling up front, waving at you from behind the car window. You dash forward and feel the rain soak your hair, your skin, your blouse. There was nothing about rain in the forecast this morning so you hadn't thought to bring a jacket with you; you're now regretting that decision greatly.
The passenger side door is already unlocked and you slip inside gratefully, slamming it behind you and exhaling loudly. The rain continues to pelt the windows, the roof, a steady and repetitive sound as you look down at yourself to assess the damage. At least you chose a blue blouse and not a white one, although you can faintly see the shape of your nipples poking through the fabric. A bit self conscious, you cross your arms and huddle forward in the seat.
"Should heat up soon," Javier says beside you, quiet like he'd been in the office, "Seatbelt."
You glance over at him for only a second but regret it instantly, immediately noticing the way the rain has completely soaked his white shirt, exposing the taut and firm muscle beneath, his wide pecs, dark nipples, his flat stomach and belly button, the trail of hair that leads down to...
You grip the seatbelt in your hands and turn your attention to clicking it into place, feeling yourself throb even more. God, he's so fucking hot. You can't blame all the women he's slept with for wanting to get in his pants, he's a fucking Adonis. You take a few deep breaths as he pulls away from the building, focusing on the small bursts of heat that are beginning to radiate from the vents in front of you. You rub your hands together, momentarily forgetting that he could probably see your breasts through your blouse if he looked over.
But that's just it...you never know when he's looking at you. And part of you wonders what would be so bad about him seeing you like this.
You drive together in silence for a few moments, an undeniable tension building and building the longer you both sit there without speaking. Every so often you can't help but let your eyes trail back over to his body, eyeing the way his wet shirt clings to his skin, beginning to slowly dry in small patches from the car heater. You can vaguely make out the shape of a scar on his abdomen and you find yourself wanting to reach out and trace your finger along the length of it, ask him how he got it, kiss it better.
"I feel you watching me, querida," he murmurs, eyes on the road.
Your eyes widen and you sit back in your seat stiffly, "S-sorry."
In your peripheral vision you see him smile, thumbing the steering wheel, "You're always watching me, aren't you?"
You don't know what to say, swallowing tightly around the lump you feel building in your throat. Is he about to call you out? Tell you to stop?
"That's okay, I'm always watching you too," he says it quietly like it's a secret, taking a heavy breath as he continues, "But you know that now, don't you? Steve's a little shit."
You can't help but laugh, which makes him grin wider. He looks over at you and you meet his gaze, feeling shy when his eyes drop to your chest and back up again.
"Don't worry, I'll take care of you," he murmurs, eyes back on the road, "I'll be real gentle, I promise."
You stare at him, slightly confused. It's only a moment later that it dawns on you: you never told him your address.
"Where are we going?" you ask quietly, voice shaking slightly in anticipation.
He gives you another side glance, smiling kindly at you, "I think you already know, cariño."
--
No more than twenty minutes later he has you laid out on his bed completely bare, his mouth pressed firmly against your wet core as you writhe and moan under his touch. His palms are pressed flush against your stomach, holding you to the mattress, never releasing you even when you start shaking uncontrollably from your orgasm. He just keeps going, sucking on your clit and fingering your throbbing hole, nose buried in the patch of hair on your mound.
"Javi, Javi, Javi," you repeat over and over again, thrashing in his sheets, fisting the duvet. He'd told you as soon as he had you in his bed that he didn't want you calling him Javier anymore, and you'd had absolutely no problem with amending your vocabulary.
He hums, giving your clit one last hard suck and making you almost scream with overstimulation, body heaving up off the mattress as he finally pulls away from your core and looks up at you with those big brown eyes.
"That's it, querida, feels so good, doesn't it?" he breathes, crawling back up and pressing kisses against your skin as you come down from the pleasure, heart pounding in your chest, "Your little pussy needed me so bad, didn't she?"
"Yes," you whimper, voice weak, unable to say anything else as he continues to kiss along your breasts, your neck, your cheeks. His mustache is soft and welcoming against your skin, tickling every inch of it in the best way possible as he worships you.
You can't believe you're even here, lying in his bed, lights dim as the rain continues to pelt the windows and drench the city while Javier drenches you. He's still wearing the white shirt, still damp and tucked into his jeans. You reach forward and pull at his belt, fingers trembling.
"Oh, cariño," he coos, kissing the corner of your mouth hungrily, "Want my cock now, do you? Thought that might have been too much for you."
You shake your head quickly, feeling tears sting in your eyes at the thought of him not giving you what you want, "Please," you whisper, voice breaking, "Please, Javi. I need it so bad."
"You do," he agrees, hands trailing upward to squeeze your breasts, thumbing your hard nipples, "You need to get fucked, knew it from the moment I met you. Knew it had to be me to do it."
"Why didn't you say anything?" you ask, voice breathless as he begins to undo his belt, "Why didn't you talk to me?"
"Because you're so pretty, hermosa, so pure," he tosses his belt to the ground and reaches for the hem of his shirt, yanking it over his head. Your eyes fall to his bare chest, his stomach, so much clearer now than they'd been through the wet fabric. He's absolutely perfect, and you feel yourself salivate as you reach up to palm the soft skin of his belly, feeling the hair under your fingertips, tracing the scar you'd seen earlier. He grabs your hand gently, squeezes it, "I knew if I talked to you, you'd end up right here. In my bed."
"And that would be a bad thing?" you whisper, eyes searching his, "This is bad?"
He shakes his head quickly, unbuttoning his jeans, "No, querida, this isn't bad. This is what you need, I know that now," he unzips himself and your jaw goes slack when you see that he isn't wearing any underwear, his cock completely bare and on display beneath the denim. He pulls himself out, showing you how long and thick he is, cut and curved, leaking from the tip. Some of it drips onto your tummy and you both watch it dribble down your skin, dipping into your belly button, "You need it," he whispers, "Knew it when you started looking at me like that."
"Like what?" you breathe, still staring at his large cock, wondering how it'll possibly fit inside you without splitting you in half.
"Like the way you're looking at my cock right now," he says softly, shuffling forward a bit on the bed, "Now, sit up, okay? Give it a kiss."
You don't need telling twice, scrambling amongst the sheets and crouching forward to envelop the head of his cock inside your mouth, warm and sticky on your tongue. You close your eyes, feeling them almost roll back in your head as you suck gently and swallow down his precome, tickling the back of your throat.
"Gonna see how much you can take, okay?" he says quietly above you, and you feel his hands in your hair, stroking your scalp reassuringly, "You can stop if it's too much."
You slowly move forward to take a few more inches, eyes still closed, only opening again when you feel his hands grip your hair tighter. You look up then, eyes lidded and heavy, and he's looking down at you like you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.
"Such a pretty mouth," he murmurs, thumbing the base of your neck, "Just made to have my cock in there, huh?"
You nod slowly, breathing through your nose and pushing yourself further, wanting to take as much of him as you possibly can. You get about three quarters down and feel the tip prod the back of your throat. You still, inhaling deeply and feeling tears well in your eyes, silently begging yourself not to gag.
"Just a little more, querida," he whispers, stroking your hair, "You can do it, I know you can."
With his soothing encouragement you slowly take the rest of him, not stopping until your nose is buried in his pubic hair. You inhale again and your senses are overwhelmed by his masculine, sweaty, musky scent. It's heaven. You open your eyes and look up at him, tears welling over and spilling down your cheeks.
"Oh, baby," he says, biting back a moan, "That's so good, knew you could do it," he feels you trembling on his cock, throat closing around the head, and he carefully slides you off.
You start coughing immediately, drool running down your chin in long ropes. You'd feel embarrassed but he's smiling at you, leaning down to press kisses to your forehead.
"You did so good," he praises, wiping your chin with his thumb and kissing your lips tenderly, tasting himself on your tongue, "Took all of it so well, querida."
"I can do it again," you say quickly through another cough, voice rough, "Just gimme a second."
He smiles wider and shakes his head, "I know you can, but you don't need to, not tonight. Just wanted to see if you could take the whole thing in that pretty mouth," he thumbs your lips and you immediately capture it between them, sucking his thumb feverishly. He groans slightly, watching it disappear, "and now that I know you can... we need to see how well it fits inside that perfect little pussy, hm? Think it'll fit?"
You nod immediately, releasing his thumb with a pop, "I'll make it fit."
He groans again, getting off the bed and pulling his jeans down his legs, "That's what I like to hear, baby." He pulls open his bedside table and grabs a condom, tossing it over to you, "Now put that on my dick, cariño, gotta be safe."
You shuffle to the edge of the bed, ripping the condom open with your teeth and sliding it down his length. You feel his eyes on you now; you'd never been able to feel it before, had no idea he'd even been looking at you, and now it's like his gaze is burning your skin. You lean forward and press one more kiss to the head of his cock, smirking when it twitches.
"Come here, hermosa," he mutters, taking your hand and carefully pulling you off the bed. You both stand there naked in front of each other as he leans down to kiss you tenderly, hand trailing up to press flush against your back. He's so beyond everything you could have ever hoped for; you still can't believe this is actually happening, "Stay there for a second," he whispers.
You watch as he gets on the bed and sits at the top, back leaning against the headboard. His cock stands stiff and inviting beneath him as he splays his legs out and opens his arms.
"Sit on my cock, querida," he breathes, and without any hesitation you climb into his lap, legs shaking as you grip his shoulders and hover above him, "Nice and slow," he whispers, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips, "That's it."
The tip of his cock breaches your entrance and you keen at the sensation, still shaking slightly as you slowly ease yourself down on him. You're so wet, his length slipping inside easily at first, but once you get about halfway down your hips stutter and you whimper.
"You got it, baby," he breathes, thumbs splayed across your belly, "Not much more," he pushes inside a bit further and you cry out in ecstasy, burying your face in his shoulder. His hands move to your back, holding you tightly against him as he continues to fill you, not stopping until he bottoms out, "There," he murmurs, rubbing circles into the skin of your back, "That's all of it, cariño. Did so good, taking it so well for me."
You sit like that for a few moments, him whispering praises in your ear and rubbing your skin soothingly. He's so thick inside you, you've never felt so full. After a few more moments he carefully grips your hips and slowly begins to move you on his cock, up and down, watching your expression and reveling in the whines emitting from your throat.
"That's it," he says, brow furrowed as he keeps his eyes on your face, "That's what a real cock feels like, querida, and it's the only one you're gonna get from now on." Your face scrunches up in pleasure and you find yourself hiding in his shoulder again, wrapping your arms around him and starting to move your hips to match his pace.
"Javi," you whimper, feeling the head of his cock pushing against the deepest part of you every time you brace down, "So big inside me, Javi."
"I know, cariño," he murmurs, soothing you again with a gentle rub to your back, "Filling you up so good, huh?"
You hum and let yourself go, nose pressed into the dip of his collarbone as you still on his cock and let him go back to working you up and down, murmuring in your ear about how good you feel, what a perfect girl you are, how you'll never fuck anyone else but him for the rest of your life. And you want to believe it's true.
"Work won't be the same anymore," you say against his skin, voice muffled.
"Christ, baby, you're thinking about work?" he taps on your neck and you pull back to look at him, shivering as he continues to fuck you relentlessly as he speaks to you, "Don't think about work right now, querida, not when I've got my cock buried inside you."
"I want you to start fucking me at work," you say suddenly, brow furrowing in pleasure as he hits the deepest part of you again, "In secret, please."
He stills for a second, surprise appearing on his face before he smiles, starts fucking you again with even more fervor, grunting with very thrust.
"Of course I will, baby," he says, pressing his forehead against yours, gripping your hips tighter and fucking you fast and hard, so much so that you feel yourself writhe off the bed again, fingers clasping around nothing as you moan loudly, "I told you, ever since I met you I knew you needed this, needed my cock," he kisses you then, wet and hot, and you feel the tension in your belly start to build, "Gonna give it to you every chance I get from now on, I promise."
You whimper at his words, fucking yourself down on him as hard as you can and letting out cries of pure bliss as he begins to hit your favorite spot over and over, so impossibly deep inside you that you think maybe he will split you open. He rises off the bed with you a bit, holding you tight to him as he wildly bucks into you, bringing you closer and closer to the edge.
"Gonna come, hermosa," he whispers in your ear, breath hot and sticky against your skin, "Give me one more, get that pussy all wet for me," you let out an inhuman sound and feel yourself involuntarily bite into his shoulder, making him groan.
"I'm sorry," you moan, pulling back and seeing the crescent shaped mark in his flesh.
"For what?" he groans, and you feel his thumb start to prod your clit, rubbing it furiously, "Do it again, baby, mark me up, make me yours," you feel your orgasm overtake you at the words, fingernails digging into his back as you writhe and cry in his arms. Without hesitation you bite down on him again, not hard enough to break the skin but enough that there will most certainly be a mark there tomorrow.
He groans at the sensation, pulling you impossibly closer and stilling inside you as he pumps the condom full of his spend, twitching inside you at every pulse. He doesn't pull out right away, just lays still within you while you pant against his shoulder, eyeing the purple mark beginning to bloom on his skin.
"I bit you," you say, eyes wide.
He shifts slightly beneath you, cock still filling you up as he chuckles, "Yes, you did."
"I'm sor-"
He puts a hand up, shaking his head, "Don't apologize, cariño, I like it."
You nod slowly and carefully pull yourself off his cock, already missing the full sensation of having him deep inside you. You lay back on the bed beside him, eyes closed as he disposes of the condom and then settles himself tightly against your side, spooning you and pressing gentle kisses to the back of your neck.
"Did you mean what you said?" you ask quietly, eyes still closed as you feel yourself begin to drift off in his embrace, "Will you really fuck me at work?"
He laughs, gorgeous and perfect in your ear, "Yes, mi sol, I meant it."
--
Javi takes you home early the next morning so you can change your clothes, not wanting Steve to know about what happened last night, as much as it would probably tickle him to know he had a hand in it. He waits for you outside, listening to the radio in his car and squinting against the bright sun, fingers tapping against the base of the window absentmindedly. After a few moments you come back out, wearing a yellow blouse this time in honor of your new nickname. He smiles radiantly at you and you know you made a good choice.
You both manage to keep Steve completely in the dark for the first part of the day; Javi goes back to ignoring you the way he usually does, which you have to admit makes you feel a little bad. But it's all water under the bridge when he follows you to the women's bathroom around noon and locks you inside one of the stalls with him. A few seconds later his cock is hitting the back of your throat as he proves to you that he wasn't lying.
--
"What's that?" Steve says in the late afternoon, only about an hour until you can go home. You look up from your desk but he isn't talking to you, his gaze fixed on Javi.
"What?" Javi replies, brow furrowing as he looks down at himself, "Got a bug on me or something?"
"No, you have a bite mark on your shoulder," Steve says matter-of-factly, and you feel your cheeks go hot, eyes widening as you stare at Javier and watch him figure out what to say.
He just shrugs coolly, "Yeah, slept with this wild bonita last night, she wanted to mark me," he looks back down at his work, "Your wife ever do shit like that, Murphy?"
Steve sighs deeply, leaning back in his chair, "No, she doesn't."
"Thought so," Javi smirks, still not looking up from his paperwork, and you watch as Steve twists his mouth into a scowl, shaking his head.
A few seconds later Steve's looking over at you, giving you a small look of what you can only describe as sympathy, "Sorry," he mouths, shrugging dejectedly, "My bad."
You give him a smile in return, shaking your head, unable to help the rush you feel at not getting caught.
"It's okay," you mouth back, "I'll get over it."
You know Javi is watching you this time.
thank you so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed it and here's my kofi if you'd like to leave a tip (entirely optional of course but much appreciated).
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𝓥𝓲𝓭𝓮𝓸 𝓰𝓪𝓶𝓮𝓼
Dads best friend!Javier Peña x afab!reader
Summary: For years he’d lived in your head like a distant memory. Something too good, too far away to attain. You shouldn’t be so hurt he’d left his old life behind, but how could you not be, when you had been such a big part of it? But you can’t hold a grudge. Not when he’s standing in front of you– doing everything to prove he’s not a stranger.
Warnings: 18+ minors DNI you will be blocked. Mentions of DEA, dads best friend trope, morally questionable relationship, minor angst, chunky age gap [reader is in her 20s Javi is in his 40s], banter, lotsa sweet moments, explicit language, explicit sexual content, couch sex, inebriated sex, cigarette and weed smoking, alcohol, dom!javi, sub!reader, pet names [cariño, baby, babygirl etc.], dirty talk, major praise kink! [lotsa good girl action iykwim] some over the clothes action, grinding, fingering, unprotected P in V [ do better!!]. Let me know if I missed anything!! <;3
Word count: 12.8k oops
A/N: Oof this took longer than I thought it would but I’m so excited for you to read it. Javier is the man of my dreams here 🥺. lotsa porn for you nasties. morally questionable relationship fr but it’s fiction so we’ll forgive Javi. I hope you darlings enjoy! Mwah 💗
Masterlist
Swinging in the backyard
Pull up in your fast car
Whistling my name
Open up a beer
And you say, "Get over here
And play a video game"
The last time you saw him you remember all but tackling him to the ground as he walked through your front door. He had bought you a special edition copy of your favourite Hans Christian Anderson fairy tale, and DVDs of ‘film noir’ movies– the kind your dad didn’t like you watching. You spent the days reading as he smoked cigars by your pool, and you remember your father joking about his ‘bad influence’ as he poured you drinks in the evenings.
That was several years ago, and now all you had left of him was a hazy memory of that distant summer, a fading image of his golden eyes glittering in the setting sun, and your copy of “The Little Mermaid”. That had been the last that he’d visited you– before his work got in the way, before he decided he’d rather stay in Bogotá than come home.
Your life had gone on, and while every year you wondered whether he’d make his grand appearance, as you grew older you came to terms with the realisation that it would just be you and your old man lounging on the patio on those treasured, warm, golden evenings. At university you were pursuing those dreams you always wanted to, the ones your father wasn’t so keen on you chasing, the ones you’d confess to him when he would drive you around the city– to that faraway ice cream place no one else would take you to.
He was all cigarettes and whiskey and secret promises.
“He’ll literally kill us, it's midnight.” It was too late, he was grabbing his keys and jacket, and despite your better judgement the thought of the fairy lights by the beach as you walked with your mint chocolate chip cones had you giggling as you followed him out the door. It was your 18th birthday. “He doesn’t need to know now, does he, cariño?”
He’d telephone your father once in a while, you knew because your house would fill with laughter only invoked by one culprit. You wondered what adventures he was on, were they like the ones he’d tell you as you sat by his side till the early hours of the morning? You wondered if he even remembered– remembered you.
But now you were in Bogotá, in the sweltering June heat, suitcase in hand, scanning the crowd for a face you barely remembered. You were scared, stupidly so, worried that your physical proximity would do nothing to mend his distance. You worried he wouldn't see you as he did before, wouldn't remember your inside jokes, your mischief, how you’d beg him to take you to that dance bar because your dad didn’t like you going alone. That he had somehow morphed into someone you couldn't recognize. You felt hot all over once again, and this time no thanks to the summer sun.
Your head turned left to right, and you spotted among the crowd families reuniting, couples kissing hello, young people returning home, lone travellers, lonely travellers, and in the hustle bustle a black leather jacket walking briskly towards you. He looked older, and tired, but his eyes still sparkled the way you remembered, still turned golden when they met the sun. From the distance he spotted you, and you watched expectantly as his furrowed brows relaxed into a calm, almost surprised expression. You felt a little short of breath, felt suddenly larger than life, as he neared you, your mind spinning and hoping, praying that he was still the man you knew.
“What have you done with my cariño?”
He was looking down at you with that same smile. Everything about him was really the same. He still smelt like tobacco and cedarwood perfume, still wore the same leather jacket, the same faded, button up shirt– with the first two buttons undone. In a moment you felt your mind's eye reconstruct those waning images of him you once cherished, from the dells of memory. And now you saw him vividly, reclining in his chair, sipping his whiskey, leaning on your porch, hair falling in his face in soft curls as he lit his cigarette.
He was a lot more handsome than you recalled.
“Hi” You were smiling so wide your face hurt, and despite the years of his absence there was a familiarity you found comfort in, a sense of belonging, and maybe naively… longing. His hands moved to grab you by the shoulders, and he stepped back to get a good look at you, almost examining how time had passed. “Lookat’ ya, university girl now huh, smart cookie?” The way he looked at you had your heart pitter pattering– with so much pride, and gentleness, and adoration.
Without any hesitation he pulled you into his chest, wrapping you up in his arms, holding your head against him. Waves of calm washed over you, an immediate reassurance you were desperate for. It was his non reluctance, his lack of worry, the way he brought you into his arms like nothing else mattered. With a heavy sigh you collapsed into him, all the uneasiness you felt before melting away as you melted into his touch. He felt warm, and strong, and like you’d remembered.
He was everything you’d remembered.
You felt yourself relax. It had been a long day, a long time getting away from your father, who, despite the fact that you had been living alone for years now, had called you about a thousand times – reminding you to take all your things, to be careful, and importantly to not get into any trouble.
If there was one thing everyone knew about Javier, it was that he was trouble, trouble, trouble.
He was still smiling when he gently pulled away, still looking at you with the same enthusiasm. He was happy to see you. He chuckled as he let go of your shoulders, and you felt your chest swarm with butterflies when he grabbed you by the hand and twirled you around, and in typical Javier fashion produced a white lily from his shirt pocket, and tucked it behind your ear.
“Welcome to Bogotá cariño”
You felt your cheeks heat. For as long as you could remember you pretty much idolised him, and the longer you didn’t see him the more distant and adored he had become. You had worked that distant memory up so much, the memory of that fateful summer, that he’d come to be a symbol of fear and dread in your head. At least until that moment.
You felt silly for ever thinking he’d be different. And there he was, standing right in front of you, putting flowers behind your ear. You mumbled a soft thank you, securing the lily, which was inadvertently an excuse not to meet his overwhelming gaze.
“Your old man give you a hard time on the way up?”
You laughed as you rolled your eyes. If there was one person who knew how much of a stickler for organisation and responsibility your father was, it was him. “He gave me an entire list of things to not do”. Javier’s deep baritone joined your laughter, and he shook his head in faux irritation at the mention of his best friend.
Reaching down for your bags he leaned beside your ear, and you felt your heart race when you turned your head ever so slightly to meet his gaze– at that glimmer in his eyes, his mischievous smile, and raised brow.
“Well, he’s no fun now, is he?”
And with that he was heading towards the exit.
—
I'm in his favourite sundress
Watchin' me get undressed
Take that body downtown
I say, "You the bestest"
Lean in for a big kiss
Put his favourite perfume on
Go play your video game
“He says I'm like you, y’know?” You leaned your elbow on the open window, knees to your chest as you sat curled up in the passenger seat of his car. His eyes were on the road, but his attention remained on you, and you were instantaneously reminded of your trips to the pier, your mint chocolate chip ice creams, and innocent secrets.
You felt warm and fuzzy inside, and your eyes wandered the beautiful Colombian city –the colours, and the smell of summer flowers, and food as it wafted out of the mom and pop restaurants you passed.
“Yeah, you a troublemaker?” He glanced at you momentarily, just in time to catch you rolling your eyes. “”M not, but he thinks Dora’s wreckless for wandering around without her parents.`` His laugh was hearty and he had that smile, that tilt of his head you were sure had all the women around him swooning. You felt your cheeks heat at the thought, especially when he chided you. “Cariño” he dragged out every syllable of that treasured pet name, shaking his head, and raising his brows in your direction, teasingly. “Okay.. maybe I like to have a little fun, but I’m still not like you.”
Letting out an exaggerated gasp his head whipped towards you. “Fuck’s that supposed to mean?!” Your head was buzzing, he's still the same, the same.
“I’m good.” He rounded the corner, and you couldn’t help but wonder who else had been in the passenger side of his car, getting this view you so cherished. You didn’t know why you cared, or why you were even wondering in the first place. It wasn’t any of your business, but somewhere deep down it made your heart ache.
“I know you are honey.. Thought your dad was gonna’ have a fuckin’ heart attack when he called me.” You could only imagine. The poor man. The thought of him persuading Javier to convince you to stay with him for the sake of his peace of mind making you giggle.
“Can you blame him? It was either you or Maria, and somehow you're the better of the two evils.” When you decided to come to Bogotá you originally planned to stay with one of your close friends from university. She had offered you a room in her apartment for as long as you needed. The both of you had applied for the same summer program, and were looking forward to spending your vacation together. That was before you confessed that a certain somebody also lived in Bogotá. A somebody you weren’t initially keen on meeting again. Somebody you had planned to avoid at any cost during your stay.
You weren’t really sure why– if you wanted to keep him away out of spite, or convenience, or fear, but all you did know was that when Maria had practically forced you to ask your dad to give Javier a call you were nothing short of petrified. She would not let it go, even said you’d regret not meeting him, better yet staying with him after how much you’d talked him up in the time you knew her. She was so confident she placed a bet you’d give up her house for his in less than forty eight hours.
“I’m a cop, I’m the obvious choice here cariño” His confidence was charming. He was deceptively charming.
“Yeah. A terrible one.”
“Was a little shocked you wanted to see me..” sometimes you really thought he could read your mind. Not just in that moment, in fact he had a habit of hitting on right whatever you were thinking about, whatever was bothering you, things you felt you couldn’t tell anyone else because they wouldn’t understand. You were not sure if and how you wanted to respond, and if you did honestly whether he would know how much the whole situation had preoccupied you.
“Strictly practical. Wanted to see if you remembered me..”
“‘Course I remember you, been haunting me like a little ghost since I last visited..”. you thought you might just explode at his teasing. You asked yourself if he was being truthful, if he truly thought about you, about how he’d up and left.
“You’re the one that disappeared into thin air!” Undeniably, despite the laughter and banter there was a tension in the air– floating between the two of you heavy and low. But what was he expecting?
Thankfully, the car came to a slow and gradual stop at the side of a small side street, where you spotted a small glass door over which flowers blooming from the floor above had been cascading. “Where are we?”
“Mint chocolate chip” One hand on the wheel, the other grabbing his keys, he looked at you as he spoke, so matter of factly it made your heart flutter. Like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “No pier, or fairy lights though, and no thrill of running from your papa.”
He remembered.
Heart bursting with love ache, you weren’t really sure what to say. As if he had anticipated your fears he seemed like he was coaxing you into your natural rhythm. Reminding you he wasn’t some stranger whose house you were staying in out of convenience. That you knew him, and that he knew you, remembered you.
“Thank god for the last one..” The memory fluttered between you two– the same thoughts, hovering between your heads. He was opening the door, taking a quick check of the traffic. You stayed put, finding your bearings. With one hand extended he beckoned you towards him, offering his arm when you hopped out the car on wobbly feet. “Oh hush, you loved it, cariño. And he knew, I told him the next day.”
With locked arms you crossed the street, and as if no time had passed you had squished yourself to his side, and had smacked him against the shoulder lightly at his admission. “What?! Traitor!”
“I handled it.” He sounded quite impressed with himself, and when you tilted your head and locked eyes with him you noticed how he looked quite impressed as well. You pressed your cheek against his arm, the leather of his jacket brushing against your warm cheeks.
“You were always the fun one.”
A large ‘OPEN’ sign stared you blank in the face, that was until Javier had gently tucked a finger under your chin, and delicately directed your eyes towards him. “He’s your dad, ‘s not supposed to be the fun one..” he softly remarked, his smile remained, and you felt nothing but warmth, and comfort from his presence.
The moment fell naturally, and he reached forward to pull the door open for you, letting skip ahead of him and into the store. “Feels like my 18th all over again.”
—
It's you, it's you, it's all for you
Everything I do
I tell you all the time
Heaven is a place on earth with you
Tell me all the things you wanna do
I heard that you like the bad girls
Honey, is that true?
“You're the boss Peña, give me the word, and it’s done.” You caught Javier’s reflection in the mirror as you sat down to get ready. Fresh out the shower it took about three seconds for the summer heat to get back at you. He liked to keep his place freezing, and at times like that you could only be grateful– the cool air soothing your scorched skin.
Carillo, Murphy– you could recognize the voices as they bounced off the wall, the same men you’d met when they barged into his home unceremoniously at six in the morning. You would have preferred to meet them in actual clothes rather than your pyjamas, and maybe outside instead of infront of your concerningly large cup of coffee, but they seemed to be used to finding unexpected guests in Javier’s apartment early in the morning.
Regardless of the fact that they’d interrupted your quiet breakfast with Javier, they were really nice people. Carillo’s wife even sent some snacks over with him the next time he visited. One because she wanted you to try the local food, and two because “Javier had nothing in his kitchen.”
“I will. soon as that dick Stechner gets out of my fuckin’ way” reaching to put you necklace on you watched as Javier moved out of your field of vision for a quick moment, returning with a glass filled with ice and an ashtray. What were they talking about? You never really asked about his job, you'd tried to talk him out of it many times, but he never budged. One day he hated it, one day he didn’t.
What he was like at work was a point of endless curiosity for you– he just seemed so different. If you were being honest he seemed like an asshole. In the few times you’d seen him interact with his partners he’d barely cracked a smile, trading in his joking and teasing for curt jabs or looks of disapproval. He also admittedly liked ordering people around, telling them what to do. His phone rang about five thousand times a day, and each answered call was punctuated with an air of control, indifference, and the steady and constant confidence of a man who knew what the hell he was doing. And did not like to be questioned about it. The only people who seemed to break the ice were the two he was speaking to at that moment.
“Javi, think this one through, don’t be fuckin crazy.” The voices drowned out as you put your attention back to getting ready. Maria was right. By the time you called her the evening of your arrival you had abandoned all plans to escape Javier's home for hers. She was in hysterics, endlessly pulling your leg over the whole situation. Your overthinking, your panic, your regret, and most obviously your complete infatuation.
She had picked you up the next morning, and had impersonated you the entire ride to the university. You hoped that you didn’t sound the way she said you did when you spoke of him, that you weren’t all heart eyes. It only made you worried about what you sounded like when you spoke to him.
With your bag tucked under your arm you grabbed your shoes off the floor, heading towards the dining table. “You got work this evening?” you were hoping he didn’t. His eyes lifted off his work to watch you shuffle around the small kitchen. Opening the fridge you grabbed a bottle of chilled water, and leaned against the closed door as you spoke.
“Depends if they call me in, they’re tracking some radio signals so we’re sitting tight till then.” He was leaning back in his chair in absolute exhaustion. Knowing that his day started around seven thirty, and never seemed to end, you didn't blame him. The few days you had been staying at his place he’d join you for dinner and be right back to work in a second. This job of his pretty much consumed him, and judging by his commitment you understood why he had no time for anyone or anything else. The guy was practically married to his job. His job and his co-workers, that is. You wouldn’t be surprised if Murphy and Carillo’s wives were envious of how much quality time Javier got to spend with their husbands.
“So you’re staying up until they get back to you?” You didn't mean to sound so perplexed, but you were. Mostly at how unpredictable his hours were. Did he really want to leave the quiet, laid back life at home for whatever this was? He crossed his arms over his chest, and spoke to you in between puffs of his cigarette.
“Yes, cariño, I'm in my forties, dont got a bedtime.” The man could barely keep his eyes open, and when he lifted his glass to his lips you felt a little better about ditching him for your fun night out. Of course you wanted to sit with him, have him talk about everything under the sun, like he used to, but you didn’t want to be another thing he had to worry about.
You barely got to speak to him outside meal times. If he stayed home, safe to say he’d be preoccupied, and if he didn’t it would be just you, and the white noise in his empty apartment, like it had been for the past four nights you had been there.
The man looked like he needed a cup of tea. You reached for the kettle, pushing it on and leaning against the closed fridge door. “They tell you that at the old people's home?” Grabbing your buzzing phone off the counter you moved towards his surprisingly organised kitchen drawers, in which there was little besides some tea bags, coffee beans, jam, canned fruits and bars of candy. That combined with the eggs, bread and milk in his fridge came to make an almost comical representation of what most people would consider a bachelor's desolate pantry.
Your eyes shifted to the illuminated screen of your phone, an unread message staring back at you.
Maria: Leaving in five <3
As you took the bubbling kettle off the burner you made a mental note, reaching for a cup, and a tea bag from the unopened box of earl grey you were pretty certain Javier did not buy for himself, rather became the owner of thanks to one of the nice old ladies who lived opposite him.
“Somones in a mood today huh?” It was then you realised he had abandoned his work to watch you trudge around his kitchen barefoot in your little party outfit, one hand rested on his chin, one leg crossed over the other as he leant back in his wooden dining table chair.
The teabag bobbed in the steaming water a couple of times, before you were pulling it out and tossing it in the trash. You grabbed his blue mug by the handle– some generic, machine made ceramic devoid of any personality, something you’d probably find in a show home. It looked like it had always been sitting on his kitchen shelf, only seeing the light of day every once in a while when he ditched his liquor cabinet for the coffee machine on the far end of the counter. Knowing him that wasn’t often.
“I'm kidding .”
“Well cariño I was thinking we could go to the dance bar tomorrow, but now I guess I'll have to stay home and rest my old knees.” He looked so surprised when you placed the mug in front of him, rested on a white paper napkin. It was almost like he had expected you to make it for yourself. The chair made a slight squeak against the floor as you pulled it back and took a seat, pulling his glass, now lined with the slight golden residue of whiskey, towards you. He was still surprised, a little taken back even, but not in offence, rather a tender, grateful smile tugged at his lips.
“Since when do you dance?” With your focus no longer split between tasks you turned back to the conversation at hand. Making sure to emphasise you remembered just how uncharacteristic Javier’s little suggestion was.
He took a sip of the earl grey, leaning forward and letting his shoulders fall ever so slightly. The glimmer of a distant memory played in his eyes as he met your gaze.“I don’t. But you do.” Your little reminiscence played in the back of your head like a movie reel, the soft sound of music from the dance bar by your house hanging in the air. As if transported into a distant dream you could see clusters of people twirling and dancing with the beat, like little ghosts behind Javier as he spoke.
“And who am I going to dance with” When you said those words out loud you meant for them to sound a whole lot more utilitarian than they ended up sounding. Whether it was hope, or some odd suggestion you were in no mood to unpack where from deep in your subconscious that had come. All you could wish for is that he didn’t notice.
“Plenty of people at the bar who’d love to dance with my darling.” And there it was, that answer you dreaded, delivered with that signature smile, with that warm, twinkling light in his eyes. “You don't have work tomorrow?” unable to bear the thought you moved along to more practical matters.
He was already halfway through that cup of tea, and like his body was in the middle of some sort of spiritual cleanse you could see him resurface somewhat coherent and with eyes that weren’t half as dead as they were two minutes ago.“‘S friday, need the time off. Besides, I'd kick myself if I didn't make good on your time here. These fuckers still gonna be around when youre gone.” Sometimes you wondered if he was talking more to himself than he was to you.
You felt a little buzzing in your purse, and you rummaged through it to find your phone. A text from Maria reminding you you needed to leave. “Yeah, you're gonna sit at the bar like a senior citizen while I have some fun?”
Rising from your seat you searched the room for the last of your things. Notwithstanding the lack of time he had put into making the place home there were still small elements of him scattered throughout that little two bedroom. The fresh flowers in a glass vase on his centre table, framed pictures and art he’d been collecting over the years, small artefacts he’d brought back from his travels. It was so odd, the whole place stood suspended somewhere between home and a place far from it. Familiar yet distant.
“Hey, they’ve got great drinks.”
He finished the last of his tea, and you picked up his mug and set it in the kitchen sink, running it under the tap water for a quick second to rinse it. Truth be told, you just wanted to sit and chat, and if half heartedly doing the dishes was going to give you a few more minutes with him you’d take it.“Don’t get too excited old man, I'm not driving us home.”
“I can take a few cariño, ‘m not like you.” You travelled to where you’d dropped your heels.
“Slander.” pausing momentarily in the middle of putting on your shoes you lifted your head to find him looking back at you. His eyes had seemingly followed you all the way behind him, and he was still smiling. Had you not had one hand on his couch holding you in place you just might have tumbled over.
“You be careful tonight, and don’t walk anywhere alone, especially if it's past ten. I know you– can't even read a damn map, so no wandering around, call me.” It looked like he had already given up on you, one hand rushing to his face to rub his tired eyes, the other plastered to the table. He was shaking his head the way he did when he caught you sneaking out your house one summer.
“I’ll think about it.” of course you were going to call him, you didn't need an excuse. But you liked to see him all agitated, bossing you around like you knew he liked to do. With everyone, that is.
“No no, you're gonna call me when you get there, and you're gonna call me when you leave, and you're gonna tell me exactly how, and with whom you're gettin back.” You were already at the door, hoping to escape him, but he was yelling your name in that exasperated voice, and you heard him shuffle from his seat to stand up– catch you and drag you back in case that was necessary.
“But-” Turning to meet his peering form over the wall of his living room you parted your lips, attempting to protest, playfully, but still protest, but he wasn't having any excuses.
He was doing that thing where he looked at you with his soft eyes, slightly downturned, and the look could convince you to do just about anything, made you feel like you’d rather die than let them down. Anybody else’s nagging would have got you on your last nerve, but you only felt warmth, concern and care when he did it. Hell he could throw you off his roof and you’d still think the same.
“No buts, no excuses. Thats final” You giggled, half because he sounded so much like a boring old man, and half because he was now leaning against the wall, with the top buttons of his shirt undone, and his hands on his hips, hair dishevelled from when he’d combed his fingers through it.
“You sound like him..” With brows raised you looked at him expectantly, taunting him with your teases, and you nearly jumped out the door when he walked towards you, ready to grab you back to him as you escaped. Any insult was better than being compared to your dad, especially in this context. “Don't you say that, cariño” He was laughing, and you were laughing, and his otherwise quiet apartment building was now singing with an uncharacteristic gleam, a glow, a gaiety.
Your shoes clicked against the floors as you scurried away, turning one last time to see him leaning against his door frame, shaking his head as he watched you skip into the night. “I don't make the rules old man”. You heard him chuckle behind you as you ‘sing songed’ your words, your heart fluttering when you noticed he waited for you to get outside before he closed his front door.
–
It's better than I ever even knew
They say that the world was built for two
Only worth living if somebody is loving you
And, baby, now you do
“Thought I told you not to wander around alone, cariño.” You jumped, but it was too late, he had wrapped you up in his arms, and you were pressed up against his chest, and his voice was a low whisper in your ear. And you were dizzy. The alcohol in your system only partly responsible for your petrified squeak, wavering voice, and the way you swayed gently in his embrace. But when he kissed the top of your head ever so gently you could only giggle, recognising that warm hold, that faint smell of whisky on his shirt.
“Psycho, you scared the shit outta me.” He was laughing when you turned around, exhausted, defeated almost, but his eyes were gleaming in the moonlight, and you felt yourself all but swoon at the way he was looking down at you. “You’re lucky I'm the only psycho you ran into” Grabbing your face in his hands each word he spoke was punctuated with hyperbole, and a teasing disbelief. Your own hands shot up to grab his, and your cold palms thawed at the touch. You were sure you felt your heartbeat in your throat when his thumbs brushed the swell of your cheeks, you were sure he could feel the way they grew hot under his rough hands. “Just came out for a smoke, don’t go into cardiac arrest now” your fallen cigarette crumpled under your foot when you stepped on it, and in the midst of your eye roll you watched as he stepped back to look at you in faux disapproval.
“Look at ya’, terrible.” He motioned his head towards the trampled butt on the ground below you. “Me? Terrible?” When you closed the distance between the both of you you stepped on it again, hearing it crush under your shoes, and shoved his shoulder playfully, poking his chest with your pointer finger. “Drinking on the job again old man?” Then he laughed again, this time at your playful yet truthful accusation, and the sound made you feel lighter than a feather. How could one person be so charming, so charismatic, at one in the morning? Like he was divulging a trade secret he raised his brow. “Keeps me awake.”
The blaring music in the club was muffled in the distance as you walked towards the steps of the church in front of you, the quiet and empty street echoing your footsteps. He walked beside you, kept you close on that pleasant summer night. When you turned your head your eyes caught a group of men huddled by a small food stall at the side of the street, hunched over some beers, smoking cigarettes. In the crowd there were two familiar faces. Steve was dressed casually, Carillo and the others in military fatigues. You wondered why he wasn’t walking in their direction, but judging by the look on their faces you concluded there would probably be a better time to do so. Besides, you weren't complaining, he was enough, he always was.
They shot you a half hearted wave, and two strained smiles from across the road.
Taking a seat you pat the stone ground beside you, watching as he looked around, almost willing someone to come into sight, one foot on the steps leading up to the cathedral entrance, wringing his hands. “What’re you doing here anyway?” You wondered what he had done that evening, but you knew you were better off not asking. You were glad to have bumped into him, and the last thing you wanted to do in your giggly half tipsy mood was have him explain something you were sure would keep you up at night. Not when he had that look on his face, his work look.
“Waitin’ on an informant, but someone fucked up and well, we’re back at square one.” he was still searching the street when he bent down to sit beside you, so close your knees bumped.
You felt your heart race a little when he pulled out what looked like a joint he had rolled moments ago from his shirt pocket, when he leaned back on his arm, lit it and looked up at the sky as he took a drag. You wondered if in your little emotional panic, your worry of his disappearance you had blocked out the memory of his striking, handsome face. You wondered if he had always been this beautiful, this captivating, everything he did set you on fire, the way he carried himself.
“Smoke a lotta weed for a DEA agent.”
He turned his head towards you, letting it fall lazily in your direction, and his hair fell in his face the way it did all those years ago, and he shot you that smile that felt like home. “Been a long day cariño”. He was looking back to the sky, but your eyes didn't leave him. He looked so tragic in the moonlight, half lit by its platinum glow. You weren’t sure if it was the liquid courage, or the fact that his shoulder looked more inviting than ever, or the fact that a cool breeze just blew by, and you shivered as it brushed your shoulder, but you leaned your head against him, and you felt your tummy erupt with butterflies when he placed a lingering kiss to your forehead. It was forbearing, and merciful, and you wondered if he had somehow noticed your girlish fawning, your silly admiration, and your heart dropped momentarily, but was soon resuscitated by his soft laughter.
“Remember those cigarettes of mine you'd steal back in the day.” The breeze had picked up, and it’s cool was far more jarring when it kissed your hot cheeks. “‘S’not stealing… you knew.” you closed your eyes, and let yourself get lost in that comfortable memory. “yeah , could've told your papa” He was looking down at you, but you kept your eyes ahead, too intimidated to meet his gaze.
“Didn’t”
“Should’ve” His voice was a mumble beside you, and you found yourself thinking about your dad for the first time in a while, and you were instantly reminded the man you were so taken up by was his best friend, and almost twice your age, and saw you as nothing more than his buddy’s daughter. You stiffened against him.
He took another drag of his joint. “If he was here right now his blood pressure would be through the roof”. A cold breeze tickled your skin, and he rubbed your shoulder gently and despite the murmured chatter in your head you couldn’t help but melt into his touch.
“Darling, I can't believe you've been out this long.” He was laughing, and his horrible impression had you in a similar state. Conflict bubbled in your chest, each word slipping past his lips reminded you of your relationship, of your dad, and what he would think if he could peek inside your head, at your little thoughts. You felt guilty, but how could you hold that feeling? Not when he was shaking with joy beside you, not when he had his arm around you the way he did, not when you were tucked into his side, shielded from the winds.
“You smell like a dingy bar” It felt so natural, your regular routine, the way it had always been, when your dad would say something funny, or outrageous, and the both of you would have a field day. It was well incorporated in your repertoire at that point, but the years apart had the memory sitting on a shelf in your brain, collecting dust. You remember when your dad made a terrible joke the day of your senior prom, and the two of you refused to let it go the entire evening. Javier had a vocabulary of his favourite phrases, and so did you, and you couldn’t help but pull them out every once in a while.
“How am I going to survive you?!” You spoke in tandem, each letter dragged out with faux frustration, an uncanny similarity to your dad’s tone ringing in the air as your blended voices formed a familiar melody. It hung between you as he laughed heartily, and you wanted nothing more than to frame the moment, keep it tucked away where it would be yours, only yours forever. The starry night, a twinkling sky above you, the chirp of the crickets, and perhaps your most treasured person, holding you against him.
You wondered why he left, why he left you behind. Did he feel the same as you did in that moment? Was he happy to be there? To have caught you on your night out? After he’d called off his wedding all those years ago he’d become a rarer sight. You were too young to remember, and it wasn’t long after your parents got married. Growing up in your little town you’d heard he always had a reputation with women, but you never believed a word of the neighbourhood chatter.
They were not the same person– the guy everyone talked about, and your Javier. While you’d never give him a break from the teasing, bringing up all the times you’d run into women in the streets, asking if you’d seen him, you could never really imagine him as the man everyone made him out to be. He was reckless, sure, and impulsive, and insolent, and a hardass, but he was also gentle, and thoughtful, and gallant.
At least he was to you.
As if he could hear your thoughts, and they were so loud in your head you wouldn’t be surprised if he could, he broke the silence. “I wanted to come back cariño, but-”
“But you couldn’t, I know '' There was no point going over what had happened and why, and while you incessantly wondered you knew it was a fruitless exercise. It was just how he was, he liked to up and leave, disappear, keep his distance, and you wondered if that had anything to do with you. But you didn't want to kill the moment, more for yourself than for him.
“Glad you decided to come, cariño” It was like he was trying to convince you, of what exactly you weren't sure, but he sounded so earnest, so true.. and you felt deep down he was trying to make amends for his absence. Not just from you, but from the life he left behind. Were you an exception? Or a way to right his wrongs? mend all that had been pushed aside? You didn't know, but you’d worry about that later.
The winds had picked up, and the sky was gleaming, and for the first time in a long time you felt at peace.
“I like it here, it's nice.” When you spoke he was almost surprised, but your words seemed to only widen his grin. He squeezed your shoulder gently.
“Me too baby, me too.”
—
Singin' in the old bars
Swingin' with the old stars
Livin' for the fame
Kissin' in the blue dark
Playin' pool and wild darts
Video games
He holds me in his big arms
Drunk and I am seeing stars
This is all I think of
“Looks like they knew you were coming.” You swivelled the bar stool in your direction, hopping up on the seat. It was early in the evening, around seven, but the music was already going, and there were people on the dance floor, moving to the beat of retro spanish tunes. Javier took a seat beside you, still in his suit from work, shirt haphazardly tucked into his dress pants, tie loose around his neck.
“Why?” the bartender placed your drinks on the counter, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the fact that he’d stuck to his whiskey on the rocks. “They got the oldies on”. You were giggling, and while he wanted to pretend like he was far too tired to care about your antics he couldn’t help but crack a smile. There was a charm to it– catching a break at the end of the work week, the tranquillity of the weekend enveloping you like a safety net. One of you that is.
Friday night was busy at any joint, buzzing with nightlife, food and drink. Somewhere along the way you’d gotten up from your seat and headed to the large empty space in the middle of the bar, where tables and chairs had been cleared to create a somewhat makeshift dance floor. Javier was right, while he sat sipping his whiskey you found plenty of dance partners.
It was all easy, getting passed from one person to the other as the group formed a large circle. It was like you had disappeared into the crowd, bodies moving left to right in the dim green glow, only occasionally giving you a glimpse of the man sitting at the counter– face rested in his palm. Ask him to dance. These urges of yours were momentary, little private lapses of judgement that would only remind you of what was just not possible.
When he’d take you out back in the day he’d have some minor injury to blame for his lack of participation on the dance floor, and when he didn’t he was “a terrible dancer” or “had too many drinks”. After a while you stopped asking. You realised you’d never really seen him dance.
You had grabbed the hand of a stranger, letting them twirl you around– Javier was looking in your direction. For how much fun he liked to have you had come to recognize hardly any of it involved other people. Weddings, birthdays, barbeques. He was there. However, you’d always felt he looked at it as an obligation. A hi to the bride and groom, a bouquet of flowers, some meaningless small talk and he would disappear out the door. When he stayed it was solely in the company of a few familiar suspects– your dad being one. While he was often the subject of conversation, he was a pretty reluctant conversationalist.
It was hot, and muggy, and if someone asked you where you were in the room you surely couldn’t place yourself. Forcing yourself out of the chatter in your head you looked up, noticing finally that your partner hadn’t changed in the past 10 minutes.
He was looking down at you quite sweetly, he was actually quite handsome, your age, but he didn’t have a white button up on, didn’t have that sideways smirk. He wasn’t Javier. And unfairly, for that reason alone you didn’t want him. But who were you to say no to pretty green eyes, soft, delicate looking light brown hair, a black button up that wasn’t very buttoned up. Neither of you had the confidence to speak up, so you let him sway you side to side, one hand firmly planted on his chest.
You wondered what he really thought of you, if after this little visit he’d be more compelled to come visit, at least spare you a call. Would he disappear once again? Call your dad once in a while and ask him to deliver some impersonal message like ‘say hi to her for me’? You wished you could care less, but you knew you couldn’t, and something inside you told you he knew too.
A firm arm wrapped around your waist, spinning you in the opposite direction, faces turned to motion blur as you turned on your heel. “Looks like a saved you, cariño.” He was twirling you, holding your hand in his and pulling you into his chest. He hadn’t really saved you but at the same time he had. He could pick you up from a field of lilies and drop you in a medieval torture chamber and he’d still be your knight in shining armour.
What the fuck are you doing here? You wanted to ask, but you held back. You wondered what had prompted him on the dance floor. Did he think some weirdo wouldn’t let go of you? Had seeing you dance with someone else accomplished a task years of your coaxing couldn’t? You turned back, but the stranger had already disappeared, and Javier was directing your gaze towards him.
As you had always suspected he was a great dancer, and he sure as hell liked holding you close as you moved along the dance floor. The songs ran over the decades, and he’d often sing lines to you– smiling and pulling you towards him. He looked so handsome, lights reflecting off his face, his smile tired, but earnest, and wide. You almost couldn’t keep up.
“Danced your energy away?” Picking up the pace once again you twirled around him, unwilling to give in. “No! Why? your back needa rest?” You watched him laugh– shake his head and grab you by the hips. “Sure you didn't cariño.. Can't keep up with an old man?” Voice raw from yelling over the music, you pulled his leg. “Think I heard your knee pop.” His raised brow only aroused suspicion. “Oh really?” Before you could even respond his arm had hooked under your thighs, and his hand was on your back and you were being lifted into the air. “Oh my god!” Your own arms flung around his neck, both your laughs floating between you as he spun around.
It felt different and not because something in his head had dragged him out onto the dance floor. The way he was looking at you, the way he just couldn’t let go. It hurt your heart more than anything you’d ever experienced. The pain was conflicting– the love ache and the hurt. Did he know how much he meant to you? Did he even care? Something in your heart told you he did but you chalked it up to innocent hope.
The music slowed down, and you heard emerging from the stereo a familiar tune.
You’d hum it all the time, so much so it would drive your father nuts. In the kitchen, while doing chores, sometimes as you read by Javier’s side. On the weekend when you woke up early to help cook breakfast it’d be the first song on the playlist. You recall how he’d watch you dance around the kitchen, truth be told rather ungracefully in the mornings– spatula in one hand, kitchen towel in the other.They played it at some wedding once, and your friends had bounded to the dance floor with you just to ensure you didn’t miss a note. You were running so fast you all but collided with him, and he had to catch your falling form as you stumbled towards your best friend, shouting a quick “sorry” as you bounded in her direction.
He remembered.
Words were useless when you looked at him the way you did. An expression of surprise, confusion, realisation, all at once, a smile tugging your lips, your doe eyes gazing into his soft brown ones. And his arms were around you, and you were pressed against his warm chest, and you were gently swaying to the beat of the music.
“Looks like they knew you were coming.”
It felt like a blip in time, but it would’ve been hours. People came and left, all around you groups of twos and threes and tens, but you stayed, and he stayed. Smiling down at you, holding you tight. You were a little light headed from it all, feet fighting the urge to take a little break. You just couldn’t let go.
Plopping down on the bar stool you let your cheek hit the cool marble of the counter. Your legs felt like wet noodles, trembling when you finally sat down. You weren't really sure where Javier went, but it felt like an eternity he let you lay there with your eyes closed. Every second was one hundred times longer when he wasn’t holding you. His arm was firm around your waist when he finally helped you out of your seat. You realised he’d been standing only about two metres away the entire time.
“Let’s get you home, ‘s late.” He had picked your shoes up from where you’d abandoned them, his own blazer draped over his arm– the one you weren’t hanging on to. With closed eyes you let him lead you out into the night, all your weight firmly supported by his broad shoulders, your stumbling feet only stabilised when he tucked you into his side.
Unintelligible to anyone but him, and muffled by your yawn and cheek pressed against his upper arm you slurred your words as you spoke. “Past your bedtime?”
He chuckled to himself, placing a soft kiss to the top of your head, his voice a faint murmur– the last thing you really remember hearing. “Yes cariño, past my bedtime…”
—
It's you, it's you, it's all for you
Everything I do
I tell you all the time
Heaven is a place on earth with you
Tell me all the things you wanna do
I heard that you like the bad girls
Honey, is that true?
“You been drinkin’ my whiskey….” He was leaning on the table, waving the glass you left out in the air, holding it between two of his fingers. He wasn’t upset, rather looked quite amused. You rubbed your eyes, making out his smile from a distance. “Couldn't sleep.” Peering into the room you were staying in you were sure he saw your blankets bunched up on the bed where you had been tossing and turning for hours. Your eyes caught the clock on the wall.
1am.
It had been a long day. Being assigned to a new supervisor proved to be a real curse. He was quite a piece of work. Patronising, condescending, everything in between. If that wasn’t enough he rejected your proposal, and asked you to submit a new one in two days. God knows you had a lot on your mind.
The kitchen cabinet swished when he opened it, bringing you back to the present. “God, you really are like me huh?” He still had his jacket on, but judging by the look on his face he needed a drink first. The couch dipped as you threw yourself on it, and you turned over its back rest to watch him move around the kitchen.
“I had like one shots worth, with like a whole glass of water, so not like you.” Curled up under his plush throw blanket you sank into the cushions, eyes following him as he sat down beside you. With a deep sigh he leaned back, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index. “Fuckin’ hell”
“Long day?” He picked up the joint he’d just rolled from the side table, groping for the handle of the drawer to grab a lighter. “Can say that..” It was just another night for him. You were lucky you heard him pull up outside, and had got yourself to look somewhat presentable so you could see him at least once that day. Granted that involved nothing but putting on a bralette.
Maybe it was the fact that it was late, or that you had such a shitty day, or that you just couldn’t help yourself anymore, but you leaned against his chest, snuggling into his side as he took a drag. “I would try and talk you out of this job, but I think I've exhausted all my arguments..” You twiddled your fingers, just wanting to melt into him and disappear.
“I don’t think there’s anything else I could do.” You shivered, his fingers tracing shapes on your upper arm. “Couldn’t do whatever it is you’ve been doing…” redirecting your gaze from your lap you looked up at him. “Sometimes it feels like I can’t either” He was looking ahead, voice low and rumbly, and just what you needed to hear.
“You’ve got time, got one’ve my lifetimes ahead’ve you” He pulled you closer, head resting against yours. “Don't say that” You poked his side lightly, hearing him chuckle beside your ear. “Oh yeah, now those jokes gettin’ to you?!”
Stewing in a comfortable silence you let yourself ease into his embrace, willing your mind to shut up for the time being and enjoy his company. The way he was holding you– so much more delicately than he ever had before had your heart clenching. “Tell me your day was better than mine.”
His words cut through the chilled air, and your heart soared at the thought that it even mattered to him. “No, sucked.” to anyone else you would have responded with a simple ‘it was good’, some white lie to avoid further questions, but you couldn’t lie to him, he’d figure it out one way or another. “My supervisor’s an asshole..”
Nothing was more comforting than the kiss he placed to the side of your head.“‘m sorry honey” He offered you his joint– seemingly having deserted his agenda of being a good influence in favour of apparently celebrating your mutual disappointment. You felt your cheeks heat.
“I've never smoked before.”
Gasping comically he whipped his head towards you. He tapped your nose with his index, pinching your cheek and giving you possibly the most suspicious look he could muster. At least he tried, because his smile peaked through the interrogative exterior. “You little liar.” The gesture had you jumping to defend yourself. Shifting to meet his drooping eyes you almost knocked him over as you plopped on the couch, letting him wrap his free arm around your waist to steady you. “No, promise!” You leaned your forehead against his, your eyes gazing into his in an attempt to convince him. Despite his disbelief you were indeed telling the truth.
“Oh really? Been drinkin’ too, trouble.” his hand snaked up the nape of your neck, cupping your jaw. It was then you realised just how close you were to him. Your eyes flickered to his lips momentarily. When you realised he had beat you to the task you were convinced you were hallucinating, or had somehow gotten high off the second hand smoke. In pain, you were in utter pain, unveiled and unprotected– subjected to his piercing gaze.
Painfully aware of the tension that had settled like a thick cloud over you, your voice came out small and strained, but also hopeful. “‘M not trouble….could be though”
The tightness in his jaw was something you couldn’t ignore. “Yeah, I know” In a moment of bad judgement, or in hindsight good judgement you decided you knew what you needed to do. You were exhausted of having to wonder. You were exhausted of asking questions, exhausted of his absence. You slung your leg over his thighs, lifting yourself onto his lap Leaning against his firm chest you peered up at him through your lashes.
“Baby, careful” You knew this time those words were not for you, you knew he was fighting the urge to gather you in his arms. You could see that look in his dark eyes– hungry, and hot. You could feel him, hard against your cotton panties. He bent down to press his forehead against yours, your noses bumping. “Cariño, you don't know what you're doing.” His actions were in direct contradiction to his words, his large hands cradling your soft cheek, pleading you to put him out of his misery. But you were selfish, like he had been all those years ago, and you needed him to put you out of yours.
“You don’t want this, Cariño” He swiped his thumb over your bottom lip. He was doing that thing again, where he was talking more to himself than to you. But couldn’t let him decide what you wanted, because for years you’d let him convince himself you’d wanted to keep your distance to maintain his own conscience– to make him feel better about how he’d disappeared from your life.
“I know what I want..” You didn’t mean to, but you were pouting, and despite your best efforts to speak with conviction you couldn’t help but come off a little pleading, “show me, please.” surely he knew you weren’t just talking about the weed.
His lips ghosted over yours, and you could just about burst into tears the way he was looking at you. He probably noticed the way your chin wobbled, the way your doe eyes blinked away from his. Because in a moment you heard him sigh heavily, painfully, and apologetically all at once.
And he was kissing you. Soft and slow, and gentle, and benevolent and like everything you’d ever hoped for. He tasted how you’d always imagined– like whiskey and cigarettes and everything in between. Like home. His thumb stroked your cheek gently until you pulled away, glossy eyed and wobbly on his lap.
“Want me to show you what?” And here you thought his eyes couldn’t get any darker. He mumbled into your lips, voice commanding and steady– everything you weren't. He grabbed the back of your neck and guided you back towards him. Threading your fingers through his hair you let yourself get lost in the shelter of his hold. You felt as though he could pretty much eat you alive, the way his lips were moving against yours– suddenly hot and soft and needy.
Heart racing you chased his lips with your own, but he steadied you with his hands, amused at your zeal. “Gotten all worked up now have we?” You couldn’t help it, you tried, tried to sit steady in his lap, but you just couldn’t, not when you felt his cock, twitch against your clothed pussy.
You rolled your hips against his, watched as his head fell back against the couch. The crease between his brows only persuaded you to continue. “Shit baby, tryna kill me?” barely audible, his rasp had you bracing yourself with your hands planted firmly on his chest. You dragged your hips again, leaning down and tugging the fabric of his shirt. He reached for the joint he’d abandoned on the side table, bringing it to your lips.
He observed you greedily. “That's it, good girl.” His voice had never sounded more strained than it did in that moment, watching you take a drag, eyes glossing over. The praise had your heart fluttering, you’d do just about anything to hear it again. Smoking wasn’t helping either of your causes, because it only made you press your pussy harder against his clothed crotch. This time his hips rose slightly to meet you, and he cursed lowly under his breath. Already unable to maintain control.
Taking another drag he leaned back, letting you rub yourself against him, eyes screwing shut every once in a while, just like your own. He’d bring the joint to your waiting mouth every now and then, revelling in the sight of you getting more and more desperate with each puff.
“dirty little girl..” you whimpered at his words. “rubbin’ that drippy lil pussy all over my lap.” You looked down, only to find a dark spot on his grey jeans, for where you pressed yourself against him. Incapable of stopping your movements you continued, relishing how the friction eased the throbbing between your legs. “Yeah? few drags got you all achy cariño, got you squirmin’?”
He was watching you, and you could make out his intense gaze through your fluttering lashes, his eyes scanning you up and down, then fixing on your face of strained pleasure. “Tell me how good it feels, Cariño” His palms smoothed up and down your thighs, harsh and slow, and exercising all the self control he could muster. It was difficult to answer, a response bubbling in your throat before you were incoherently blurting it out.
"Feels so good..” whining, you grabbed the fabric of his shirt in your fists, bouncing on his lap lightly to feel just anything against you, you wanted more, lust and intoxication clouding your judgement. “Please, need it, need it so bad” Losing all sense of restraint one of his hands reached for your hips, squeezing and gripping firmly.
He dragged your already rolling hips against him, sliding you against his clothed crotch to the point you couldn’t help but let your legs fall limp, your forehead press against his shoulder. “Need what?” You could feel the tick in his jaw where it was pressed up against your cheek.
His hand slipped between your bodies, moving your soaked panties aside to feel your wetness. You shuddered when you felt him against you, grinding down on his hand. “Fuck, look at that. So fuckin’ wet for me babygirl.”
“Need you inside me, please.” Nosing his neck you pressed a kiss there, mouth falling agape as he rubbed your clit, fingers teasing your entrance, just barely pushing into you. “Like this?” If your laboured breaths were any indication you couldn’t take it much longer.
You wiggled your hips, trying to bear down on his digits, but he pulled away only to squeeze the inside of your thigh. ““Gettin’ to you already? use your words baby” he was taunting you, your little ‘no’s making him smirk against your shoulder as he went back to sliding his fingers along the cut of your pussy. “What do ya’ want me to do to you? Tell me babygirl.” You knew the sweet talk was only meant to encourage you, and while it worked you couldn’t help the way your cheeks burned when you replied.
“Want your cock inside me. Want you to fuck me.. please … need it”
Now that he listened to, fingers pulling away and tapping at your lips. When you gazed down at them you could see how wet you really were– having drenched them in the little while he’d had his hand in your panties. Obeying you parted them, letting him slide them into your waiting mouth, sucking gently, the taste of yourself heady on your tongue. “Good girl.” Even though he looked quite composed on the outside you still noticed the way he swallowed thickly when your tongue ran along his digits.
“Want me to fuck the cute lil pussy?” you shook your head vehemently, and he chuckled at your enthusiasm. “That's my pretty baby.” he kissed you like he wanted to devour you, frantic, and urged, voice so rough it came out almost like a growl. His hands roughly grabbed your hips, flipping you to lay back against his couch. In a moment your sleep top and bralette had been discarded, in a pile on the floor alongside your shorts and his own clothes.
Slotting himself between your legs you looked down to where his fingers were tracing the inside of your thigh. You gazed up at him, upper body lit by the dim orange light of the side table, broad shoulders slumped as he admired the sight of you– on your back, in nothing but your panties, all for him. As he slowly pulled them down your legs, he sure seemed to relish the way the fabric of your cotton panties clung messily to your wet pussy.
“Poor thing, just need someone to take care of you don’t you?” It was less of a question and more of a declaration, and undoubtedly it made you feel open and weak. How could you not feel that way? There you were laid out in front of him, every part of you exposed, his toned torso being the only part of him you could really see thanks to the half lit room. It felt like if he looked just a little closer he’d be able to see right through your naked body– and into your scrambled thoughts.
His index teased your dripping hole, briefly dipping into you and coming back to rub soft circles on your clit. Gasping, your fingers flew to grip his wrist when you felt him slide his cock against your cunt, tip teasing your sensitive nub ever so slightly. “Relax babygirl, be good for me.” Bringing your hand to his lips he peppered your knuckles with kisses, willing you to ease into the cushions as he draped himself over your body. He grasped your face in his palm, kissing his reassurance against your forehead as you felt him line himself up with your leaking entrance.
You mewled at the stretch of him, at how hot you felt against him as he eased himself into your soft pussy. “Shit- so fucking tight-” his stopped for a second, like he was willing himself not to split you open with one quick snap of his hips. “can barely fit my cock in this lil pussy.” Leaning in your lips searched for his. He let you melt into him, fingers brushing against your side as if to calm you down.
It was so much– his weight on top of you, his hips slotted between your thighs, forehead pressed against yours. You could feel every pulse, every throb, every ridge of him inside you, nudging those spots you could never reach yourself– and he wasn’t even moving yet.
When he did start moving you couldn’t help the whimper that slipped past your lips. Your fingers digging into the flesh of his biceps, pulling him closer. You needed him, pressed up against your rising chest, holding you. “I know cariño, I know.” His right hand squeezed your waist, “Feels so good doesn’t it? Yeah feelin’ all full?”
His voice was so sweet, like honey, warm and sultry in your ear. You nodded a quiet ‘yes’. He cradled your face in his palm, nose nudging yours gently. Mumbling his own rhetorical “yeah?” he kissed the underside of your jaw. For the first time he felt as close as he physically was, big and thick inside you.
You were drowning in his arms, enveloped by them, cocooned in a bubble of heat, and low breathy sighs, and his lips ghosting over yours as he thrust into you– hard, but slow, and deep. “That’s it, just like that–” he picked up his pace ever so slightly. “Such a good girl.” His words were gruff, and stuttery and his breath tickled your ear whenever he spoke.
Feeling the drag of his thick cock against your pulsing walls your eyes struggled to focus on him above you. He on the other hand seemed to have no trouble fixing his gaze on your trembling form. “Makin’ me feel so–” he brought his thumb to brush the swell of your cheek, “fucking good, baby”. Your head buzzed at his praise, burning face turning to rest in his palm.
With your back lifting off the soft cushion you reached to pull him impossibly closer, wiggling your hips to meet his thrusts. “More, please, please.. Want it” you couldn’t recognise your voice, not when you were begging him, watching his eyes twinkle. “Yeah? Need me to fuck this pretty pussy harder?” you nodded– feeling embarrassed enough at his smirk of surprise to hide your face in his neck, but not enough to stop begging. Another soft “please” barely falling from your mouth.
Rising slightly he grabbed your hips, holding your thigh against his side. Your tilted hips granted him a whole new angle, and before you knew it you were throwing your head back, letting it fall against the upholstery. “You want that, don't you baby? Need me to stuff you full of my cum?” You could only respond with your sounds of pleasure.
He pushed you against the cushions, hovering above you to drive himself deeper, watching you turn into a moaning incoherent mess– your whimpers and whines bouncing off the walls and only exhilarating his pleasure. “That's right cariño, I gotcha’” one hand squeezed the flesh of your hip, then travelled up to brush against the exposed column of your throat– fingers tracing your skin before he was leaning down and placing sloppy kisses against you.
“gonna fuck this pretty pussy till she’s dripping with my cum.”
He must have noticed that dumb, hazy look in your eyes when propped himself back up, still fucking you till your hips pressed into the sofa’s cushions. “Fuck, nothin in that head of yours huh?” You made out his smirk of pride as you jostled around, trying your best to keep your eyes on him as he moved above you.
It was far easier said than done. Not when you could feel his cock against your throbbing walls, could hear his scruff groans whenever he felt you clench around him, not when he was looking down at you with his furrowed brows, and sweat gemming his hair– which’s curls had been ruffled out of place from when you’d ran your fingers through them.
Especially not when he shifted ever so slightly, and you felt his tip brush that sensitive spot inside you you didn't even know you had. Javier cursed above you, feeling you squeeze his cock. “that the spot huh babygirl?” he watched the way your eyes fluttered shut, face scrunching in pleasure as he hit it over and over and over again.
Your head lulled from side to side, your body in overdrive and completely overwhelmed at the sensations. That was until he was cupping your cheek in his palm, tilting your face in his direction. “Use your words for me.”. But you couldn’t, parted lips struggling to form anything coherent besides soft, little whines.
His hips snapped in a deep, slow thrust. “Say it..” Your eyes were barely open, and you reached and tried to grab him closer, but he stayed above you, unwilling to budge as he slowed to a complete stop– waiting for you to voice your needs. “Yes-”
He mumbled against your lips, nipping, and kissing. “Good girl, my good girl.” To that you nodded, back arching as he drove you closer and closer to the edge. Every part of you singing at his touch– how he kneaded and squeezed your hot flesh.
The coil in your belly only tightened and tightened, and you suddenly felt too vulnerable, too exposed to meet his hooded eyes. Turning your face to the side you let the plush throw blanket hide your hot cheeks, burying your face in it. “Look at me, wanna see your pretty face.” It was an instruction. One he expected you to follow like all the others.
You didn’t think he’d notice that hitch in your breath, the way you did the opposite and smashed your face against the soft fabric. It was all too much, and he was fucking into your soaking pussy, and his hands were roaming your body, and you could feel his skin brush yours, and you were dizzy, and overwhelmed and you could scream and–
And he was slowing down again, just enough to where he kept you on that edge, to where you could savour every bit of him inside you. – “Cariño, look at me..” God he sounded so tender, coaxing you out of your daze just enough to the point you shook your head ‘no’, whimpering and turning only further away from him.
He kissed your cheek, cooing at your overwhelm. Not to mock you, rather he sounded quite endeared, prideful even. “Baby” Nudging his nose with yours you felt his thumb rub soothing circles against the apex of your cheekbone, urging you in his direction ever so slightly. Your eyes fluttered open, just barely, only to find him smiling down at you.
“There’s my girl.”
“Need you to look at me when ‘m fuckin’ you.” He held your face in place as his hips met yours, slow and languid. No part of you was left untouched, his kisses adorning every inch of your exposed skin, lips coming to press against yours every now and then. It was like he could see through your nakedness, and the thought terrified you to no end, made you feel small and defenceless, and had your sensitive cunt squeezing his cock.
“You close honey?” When you nodded your nose bumped his, and he laughed before he was kissing you gently. He brushed the sweat from your brow, voice so mellow yet in control. “Cum for me baby-” You felt him deep inside you. So so so close. ”Wanna feel you cum all over my cock”
It rolled over you, slow and intense and deep, in waves. He held you close, cooing at your trembling frame, holding you against him. “'M here cariño, I gotcha, just like that.” Groaning, he watched your eyes struggle to remain open, rolling back into your head as he fucked your throbbing cunt. “That's my pretty girl.”
His own hips stuttered, thrusts becoming sloppy as he neared his release. Still experiencing the aftershocks of your orgasm you felt him fucking into your warm, pulsing pussy. You felt his cock twitch inside you before he was filling you up with his cum, a strained curse slipping past his lips.
Ears ringing you registered him catching his breath above you, but it was all too hazy for you to make out. All you really knew is that he hadn’t let go of you, hadn’t abandoned you on the couch to smoke a cigarette or pour himself a drink, instead he was peppering your face with little kisses. “ ‘m so proud’a you cariño– did so well for me.”
Pulling out he slid his hand under your back, flipping you over so you were snuggled into his chest. The cold air from the open window could barely touch your skin before Javier was throwing the blanket over you– keeping you warm, close.
You were still in your daze, but even as you lay on top of him, drifting in and out of a deep slumber you couldn’t shake the worry that when you opened your eyes he would be gone.
That he would have traded you in for the comfort of his bed, or worse would have disappeared into obscurity once again. The thought only stung more as you felt his cum leak out of you, mixing with your own to drip down your thighs obscenely.
You never really knew if he regretted it, if he wanted you for sure, if he liked having the weight of your body against him. Flinging your arms around his neck you tugged him impossibly closer, burying your face in his neck. A silent plea to stay where he was. You didn’t care if you seemed needy, or clingy or pathetic.
It was like he knew somehow, like your thoughts floated to him after you’d thought them. And as always there was no explaining to do, no questions to answer, nothing to say. His embrace was safe, and secure, and unwavering. “close those eyes for me cariño mìo” He planted a soft kiss to your nose, his arms tightening around you, palms rubbing soothing circles on your back. “‘m right here babygirl, not goin’ anywhere….”
You did. And he didn’t.
It's better than I ever even knew
They say that the world was built for two
Only worth living if somebody is loving you
And, baby, now you do
Now you do
Now you do
Now you do
Now, now you do
Now you do
Now you do
I would also like to add that we are engaging with this concept solely in the realm and interest of fiction. This type of situation is a huge red flag. While the reader is seemingly consenting and enthusiastic there is a huge power imbalance between her and Javier. He has also known her her whole life and has been a significant part of her childhood. Engaging sexually or romantically in a relationship like that is creepy gr*omer behaviour. I used their past as a narrative device because this isn’t real, but please be aware of your media consumption, and that dynamics between characters in fic are vastly different from what is healthy, and ethical in real life. 🫶🐝💗
I really hoped you lovelies enjoyed it!! Please let me know what you think, I'd love to hear it! Thank you to everyone who reblogs my work, you keep me writing. Dividers and banners by @ saradika 💗🐝✨
#javier pena#javier pena fanfiction#javier pena smut#javier pena x reader#javier peña#javier pena narcos#javier peña smut#javier peña x fem!reader#javier pena angst#narcos fanfiction#narcos#narcos smut#smut#pedro pascal character fic#Pedro pascal#pedro pascal smut#pedro pascal characters#dads best friend! Javier pena#dbf!javier pena#dbf!javier pena x reader#pedro pascal x reader#javier peña x you#javier pena imagine#javier pena one shot#javier peña narcos#javier peña x reader#javier peña x female reader#narcos fic#narcos fanfic#fic: video games
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the dark caress of someone else
part 1 ⋆ part 2 ⋆ part 3 ⋆ part 4 ⋆ part 5
ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist
pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader x Tess Servopoulos
rating: Explicit (18+ only!)
chapter warnings: dub con, threesome (mff), oral (f and m receiving), bi reader, unprotected P in V, creampie, praise kink, spit kink, derogatory names (slut), drug reference, unspecified age gap, one singular queef (I'm not sorry), one face slap (with a dick)word count: 6.2k
chapter summary: After a little white lie, you go to pick up your dads medication, only to be met by an angry Joel and a (not so) surprise visitor.
A/N: Thank you so much for all the love for this silly little series. I appreciate your amazing comments so much, and I don't quite know what to do with myself.
Piggy in the middle is fuckin difficult man. But I guess life imitates art and sometimes there do just be too many holes, hands and other body parts to keep track of. Also pls excuse me but I'm, like, really bi. And Anna Torv's Tess has my whole entire pussy heart.
this part is dedicated to 'The Sweaty Javi' and 'The Hillbilly Duck Hunter' (courtesy of the wonderful @morallyinept). thank you for your services. (pls drink responsibly)
also a shout out to slasher!joel's big ol' balls (spawned by @toxicanonymity) they've been on my mind literally all week and you would not believe the ball content I had to cut from this. only a smidgen of balls remain, but the balls are there in spirit. thanks for the ballspo bb.
follow @covetedfics and turn notifications on for updates on future work
song: someone new by Hozier
dividers: @saradika
Your dad shook as he threw back his last pill, swallowing dry before chasing it down with a sip of water. He'd been making weak comments about needing to get more all week and you'd always stopped him. You didn't want him to go. You wanted to go.
You both knew that the pushback was all for show, but now a little white lie meant the show was over, for him at least.
"Joel doesn't want you coming to get your pills yourself anymore," you'd told him. It was a barefaced lie, but felt better than telling him the truth. How, exactly, do you tell your dad you're whoring yourself to his drug dealer?
You were fairly certain your dad knew what kind of man Joel Miller was. A Nice Man to some, maybe, but his reputation preceded him. He was known for helping out people when they got into tricky spots. Not all the time, of course, but when you had something he took a fancying to, he'd be more than willing to come to an agreement. Maybe your dad already knew what you were doing for him, for you. Maybe he noticed you had more ration cards these days, a spring in your step. You wondered if he cared, if he'd ever try to stop you.
You make your way to the nicer part of the QZ again the next day. You have a free shift and, despite your dad's protests that you should go spend it with friends, you find yourself climbing chipped steps to an empty hallway once more.
You had left the last time with the slick of oil between your cheeks, down your legs, between your thighs. It had taken days to wash off completely. You didn't mind one bit - whenever you moved the slick of it reminding you of him buried in you to the hilt, fucking you half to death in a way you'd never imagined. Embarrassment, shame, you shouldn't like this, melding together and melting away as he pummelled into you from behind. You'd practically rubbed yourself raw thinking about it, but it was never quite enough.
Uncontrollable excitement thrums through you as you approach his door. And, well, you should have known.
Each time you turn up to Joel Miller's door thinking you know what to expect, and each time you're wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong. It seems this time is no different.
You hear it before you even get to the door. Raised voices - a man shouting, a girl crying. You hear muffled snippets of the argument - "fuckin' daddy" here, "you're an asshole" there. You don't want to leave, but the sound of it makes you nervous. The unexpected usually hit when you were already trapped inside Joel's apartment, not when you were waiting in the corridor for the door to open.
You decide to turn and leave, you can come back later or another day, your dad can wait. You can wait. But then the door is opening and a topless brunette is rushing out into the hallway, nearly knocking into you in the process. Tears are streaming down her face as she shoves her arms into her t-shirt, hurrying away muttering "asshole" under her breath.
You watch as she leaves, turning your head back to the open door only when you see movement out the corner of your eye.
You'd never seen him like this. White fury burned behind his eyes as he came to slam the door in the girl's wake. He sees you and halts, fingers gripping the wood so tight you think it might splinter.
"Where's your daddy," he snarls at you.
"At home, in bed. He needs-"
"I know what he fuckin' needs. Get in."
He stalks away from the door, leaving it wide open for you to enter. You follow him in. You'd been trapped in here with him before, but it never felt like this. The fear you had before was because of the unknown, the new - he was a strange man in a strange place. Now he was a man you somewhat knew and trusted, yet in this moment you feared him. You were suddenly keenly aware that he could hurt you, really actually hurt you, if he wanted to.
A cupboard door clanks shut, making you jump, then his imposing figure is stomping back over to you. Grabbing your hand, he wretches it open, pushes a pill packet into your palm, and closes it into a fist around the plastic.
"You can see yourself out," he growls before walking away from you, leaving you standing there, confused.
You frown as you look between the pills he'd just given you and him. "But -"
"But fuckin' what," he yells, turning on you. "I gave you what you want, now go."
You're a fucking idiot, poking the already angry bear, but you step forward anyway. "That's not what I want."
He scoffs at you, hands on hips, shaking his head in disbelief. You felt small just because of the size of him usually, but now he was making you feel small in other ways.
"Use me."
"Use you? You want me to use you?"
You shrug your shoulders. "That's what this is, right? You give me what I want, and I give you what you want." He'd said it himself last time, and now here you were using his own words against him.
"And you think using you is what I want?"
You look him straight in the eye, balls bigger than the universe and say, "Yes."
Angry feet drag him to you, toes stopping barely an inch away from your own. He stares down at you, challenging you to look away, but you crane your neck and keep your eyes locked with his.
When he brings one massive hand gently to your neck, holding your gaze, you try not to flinch. Joel notices, fiery gaze briefly softening, he doesn't want you to be scared of him, and allows the cradle of his hand to push against your throat. You feel your pulse thunder beneath his palm just before the pressure releases.
"You got one last hole I ain't tried yet," he murmurs, dragging the rough pad of his thumb up your jaw and across the swell of your bottom lip. You fight not to kiss it, to take it into your mouth and show him how useful you can be.
The hand drags down your body, fingertips pulling at the neckline of your shirt, before he reaches its hem. You think he's going to put a hand up it, feel your bare skin underneath. Instead he bunches the fabric taught against your chest in one fist, yanking you even closer to him, his fist keeping you from falling flush against his torso.
"Take this off," his breath whispers across your face.
Grip loosening on your shirt, you try not to stumble back as you pull your shirt over your head, cheeks heating when you briefly get it caught on your chin. You weren't wearing a bra today, but if he notices he doesn't react.
Fingers tug at your belt loops. "And these."
You unbutton your pants, pulling them down your legs and off your body, taking your shoes with them. You try not to think about if the other girl was this dressed when Joel decided to kick her out.
Joel kicks your clothes away from you, you watch them skid across the floor, pill packet clattering along with them, before turning back, the fire in his eyes back and all softness forgotten.
"On your fuckin' knees."
You thud to your knees and look up at him. He takes a step back, as if he suddenly doesn't trust himself to be close to you. The thought of him actually hurting you crosses your mind again - you wonder if that'd turn you on the same as the other things he does, the things he does to hurt but make you feel good too. Maybe it would. Maybe if he really wanted to you'd let him.
His eyes rake down your body, taking in your bare tits, nipples hardened under the chill of the room, down the swell of your stomach, across the meat of your thighs and to the dampness forming on the front of your panties.
"Want me to use you, huh?" he says, nostrils flaring as his hands flex beside him.
Your eyes flick to his crotch. You'd only been this close to him in your fantasies, but you find you're salivating just as much as you do in your dreams, aching to run your hands across him and really, finally, feel him.
As if reading your mind, his hand caresses across the front of his pants. Where there had been nothing but the soft shape of him before was a growing tent as he hardened before you. "You want this?"
You nod.
He threads a hand through your hair, scratching at your scalp and cradling your head in his palm. He forces your head back further, until you're looking directly up at him.
"You're gonna have to ask nicely for it, sweetheart."
"Please can I have it," you beg, sounding as needy as you feel. You've never needed anything more than you need this. You know he can see it in your face, in the way you lick your lips as you take him in.
He yanks his pants down in an instant, cock bouncing from their confines. He grabs it in his fist, large hand stroking gently up his length to tug at his tip as he grows. It looks huge in his hand, but you know it'd look so much bigger in yours.
You look up at him wide eyed as you watch him stroke himself. A few strokes and he's solid already. For all you've done with him, for how you've had him inside you, you've never seen it this close. Never seen how veins ripple under skin, foreskin moves back with the movement of his hand to reveal his flushed tip, slit beckoning you to taste.
"Please can I have your co- "
The hard length of him collides harshly with the side of your face. Your lips part in a gasp. You stop yourself from chasing it and engulfing it with your mouth. He hasn't said you could, and you're not stepping a toe out of line. He needs you to be good.
"You really want it?" he teases.
You nod frantically. You must look dumb, like one of those nodding dog ornaments from years ago - glassy eyed and head bobbing at just about anything.
"Kiss it." You do, hesitantly placing a gentle kiss to one side of his tip, then the other, before placing an even softer kiss to his slit. There's a thrill knowing you'd never kissed any part of him before, knowing that the first time you'd pressed your lips to him it was to his cock. If anyone ever found out maybe you'd be embarrassed, but here, in this room, all you wanted was more.
Swallowing heavily and lifting his shaft, he pulls your head closer to him. "Kiss 'em. They wanna feel good too, sweetheart."
You place more soft kisses across the delicate skin of his balls, pushing down the temptation to taste him. Your eyes never leave his face, and his never leave yours. He looks so horny he could smash you through a fucking wall, and you don't think you'd mind if he did.
You keep kissing until he pulls your head back. He's started gently stroking himself again, getting himself off as he watched you worship his balls.
"You wanna taste?"
"I wanna taste," you swallow, sinking down as you spread your knees wide to stop the temptation of rubbing your thighs together, desperate for relief he hasn't said you can have.
"Show me how much you want it."
You snap your jaw open for him, eager to taste more than the swipe of cum he'd spread over your lips weeks ago, as he fists his cock gently over your face. He's teasing you with it still when a whine catches in your throat.
Another tug to your hair tilts your head back, but your eyes strain down to look at the bead of cum that's about to drip from the tip of him. He leans over you, cock in hand and your head held in the other. You watch as he spits down into your mouth, saliva cooling as it falls from his mouth to yours, landing cold on your waiting tongue.
"Good girl. So desperate for it. Keep it open." He moves his dripping tip to your mouth before you can react, swiping it across your tongue, mixing his precum with your, and his, saliva.
You hear it before he does - the sound of a key jingling and a lock turning. It startles you, fright springing across your face as he frowns down at you. You keep your mouth open as the door swings open behind you, exposing your naked body to the hallway and whoever has just entered.
"You home, old man?" a familiar voice you can't place calls out, before the very same voice lets out a low whistle when it catches sight of you.
The door is kicked shut, and there's a thud on the table. Joel is still brandishing his cock as he stares daggers over your head at the intruder. Your fucking mouth is open.
"You mind? I'm busy," he says, wiping the tip of his cock over your tongue again. You salivate at the salty taste of him and try to swallow.
Light footsteps head toward where you kneel on the floor before Joel, knees spread, head up, eyes darting between his face and his grip on his cock.
"Well then, hello there pretty girl." You remember that voice.
Finally letting your eyes flick to the side, you see her. Tess. She seems to recognize you at the same time as you do, a smile pulling across her face as your mouth falls slack in shock.
She'd been your fathers dealer before you were handed off one day to a new one. Your dad hadn't given details on why, but you had a feeling you knew. She'd helped you once too, when a few too many sick days had meant too few cards to get by. That had been your first time on your knees for someone at the promise of pills, and at the time you thought it would be your last.
Joel watches as she approaches and looks down at you on your knees. His hand hasn't left his cock, and he's tugging on himself as he watches, another bead of precum you desperately want to lick collecting at his head. He moves his hand from its place in your hair and starts stroking his heavy balls with it as he watches you.
"How's your daddy?" she pouts in mock empathy before addressing Joel, laughing.
"Gotta say, didn't expect this when I handed 'em off to you. Told you the daughter's mouth was good, didn't I?"
"I wouldn't know, I was only just about to find out," he grits out. His hands are still slowly working over himself as he talks to her. You watch as his eyes roam up and down her body, then flick to you down at his feet. Your body heats as you watch him ogle her - you think it may be jealousy until your own eyes trail the same path down her body before resting back on Joel. What difference is there between jealousy and desire, really.
"The first time you get to mess with one, and I get to witness it? Lucky me," she grins as she watches Joel thread a hand back through your hair, drawing your attention back to him completely.
"S'not the first time," he whispers as he pulls you forward, nodding at you to open your mouth once more.
"Then what the fuck have you been doing with her?"
Joel rolls his eyes at her, instead opting to feed the head of his cock into your mouth.
Your mouth engulfs his tip, warm and wet, he sucks in a breath closing his eyes, grip tightening in your hair. You let your tongue swirl around him, feeling the ridge of his head and tasting the bitter sweet salt of his cum on his skin. Your fingers curl into the rough fabric of his pants, anchoring you to him as you bob your head over his tip, circling your tongue over every inch of it.
"Oh fuck, that's right," he moans. "That taste good?"
He looks down as you nod, your moan of confirmation around his cock pulling another groan from his chest as his eyes fall closed again.
"Fuck yeah, it does."
Tess had all but gone from your mind until you hear the tap of shoes on the floor, and feel as she crouches beside you. A soft hand comes to your face, stroking the hollow of your cheek as you suck more of Joel's cock into your mouth.
You feel soft lips press a kiss to that very same hollow, the feeling of being kissed making you sigh. His eyes snap open, he'd been so lost in the feeling of your mouth on him that he hadn't noticed Tess's approach either. Now he was looking down at two women at his feet, eyes burning holes into yours where they fluttered in your head.
She begins nuzzling your hair, your neck, placing soft kisses across your bare skin. You keep your focus on Joel, staring at him with the same intensity he stares at you. Soft hands start to roam up and down your body, squeezing your chest, pinching your nipples, dragging short nails across your stomach, her every move making you shudder.
"Can't say I ever imagined a sweet little thing like you doing this," she whispers into your ear. You can hear the sickly sweet smile in her voice.
You moan into Joel's cock as she touches you, taking yet more of him into your mouth. You want to touch it, hold the heft of it in your hand, but you never have before. You don't know if you're allowed. You inch your hand up his pants to his crotch, stroking the exposed skin at the base of him with your fingertips. The hand in your hair twitches, and you hear a strangled moan from above you.
"Fuuck."
Another shift of your hand and your hand wraps around his thick base, fingertips unable to meet even if you squeezed. Holding him steady, you can finally angle him down so you can draw more of his cock into your mouth. You flick your tongue along his tip again as you swallow around him with a moan.
"That's it. Show me how much you can take."
At the instruction, Tess knocks his hand away from your hair, bringing both of her own to hold either side of your head. She fucks your mouth up and down his length, Joel moaning deep as his hand finds yours on his pants and grips your fingers tightly.
You'd been longing to feel his lips on yours so much that you'd never considered what his hand might feel like on yours. It's the opposite of electric - the heavy heat of his rough hand grounding you, finally, as you take him in in full clarity.
"Shit that's good," he sighs as you're dragged along him by Tess's hands.
"You hear that? He thinks you're doing a good job," Tess says from beside you, pushing your head down to take more of him with a kiss to your cheek.
You start to gag as she pushes you down - it had been so long since you'd done this, and Joel's size wasn't exactly forgiving to the less experienced - but you carry on, moaning again when the welcome distraction of Tess's body pushes against yours.
"Nothin' but a cocksucking slut, huh?" Joel murmurs down to you almost affectionately, moving a stray hair from across your face. Yes you want to say, but it comes out a garbled mess as Tess laughs at you once again.
With another firm push of your head, your mouth slips down and takes Joel even further to the back of your throat. You cough and splutter, trying to push yourself back using your hand against Joel's thick thighs, but Tess holds you down with his cock buried in your throat. Joel's hand grips yours tighter still.
"Don't," he snarls. "If I wanted her chokin' on it I'd fuck her face."
"Maybe I want her to choke on it," Tess counters from beside you with another laugh, but she relents anyway.
You pull back with a gasp and take a gulp of air before kissing the tip of his cock. You don't want to let go of it for a minute. You lick long stripes up his length, collecting the strings of saliva you'd left behind, before encasing him in your mouth once more. If you were anywhere else you'd maybe feel shame at your need for him, and your need to please him, but the heat of their eyes burning into you does nothing but light a fire between your legs.
Tess sees it, moving a hand down from bobbing your head on Joel's cock, down your bare torso and cupping your clothed pussy. Her slender fingers feel so much more delicate compared to Joel's thick calloused ones as they rub over you, your moans muffled by the fullness of the cock in your mouth.
"She's so wet, Joel," you hear her say through Joel's groan and the blood rushing in your ears.
Your hips start to rock into Tess's hand of their own accord, aching to find more friction and finally get some relief. She yanks your panties to the side, using one of her fingers to trace the seam of you before gently tickling your clit. If she could only feel how damp you were before, she could definitely feel the drip of slick from your cunt now.
Slender fingers plunge into you, fucking your desperate hole with force as you work your mouth over Joel's cock. You're left empty for half a second before her fingers are back in you, more this time, stretching you further so suddenly that your legs widen to accommodate the pull of fingers inside you.
"All four fingers, good girl," Tess coos.
"Four?" grunts Joel. Tess nods, laughing, and Joel throws his head back with a groan.
"I bet we could fit a whole hand up here," she says with another kiss to your cheek.
You were naive before to think she wouldn't, couldn't, hurt you the way you thought Joel could. You were wrong, you realized now, as her fingers plunged into you, stretching wide, words taunting in your ear as she forced your head back and forth over Joel's cock.
Her fingers leave your cunt entirely, leaving you empty and gaping. She pulls you off of Joel, replacing his cock in your mouth with her glistening fingers. You clean your own slick from them, moaning at the tang of your own pussy mixing with the flavor of Joel still on your tongue. His eyes never leave you and his hand never gives up its grip on yours.
"You like the taste of pussy, don't you?" Tess whispers in your ear, pushing you back onto Joel.
"Mhm."
"I think we can do something about that," she murmurs. "Can't we Joel." You both look up at him from your knees. He growls, nodding stiffly.
You're being hauled to your feet and pushed to the couch before you know what's going on. The blood rushes to your head and the room spins when you're pushed roughly over the arm, watching as Tess unbuttons her pants and pulls them down her legs.
She lounges back on the other arm of the sofa, spreading her legs and beckoning you to come between them. You ignore the ache in your knees from the hard wood of the floorboards as you crawl over, settling between her soft thighs and looking up at her with parted mouth. You would do anything right now, desperate for any relief from anyone.
Joel has followed behind, watching your ass sway as you crawled to her. Your panties are still skewed to the side, and you know he's looking at the mess of arousal between your legs. Tess may have been the one with her fingers buried in you, but you hope he knows he's just as responsible for your glistening cunt.
"C'mon," he growls, landing a swat to your ass. "Lemme see you eat that pussy."
You stare at Tess's bare cunt, feeling needy in ways you can't even explain, and move to lower your head, eager to taste her again.
She grabs you by the hair before your mouth can touch her.
"No teasing now. You remember what I told you?" You nod. You remembered every fucking part - exactly how she liked to come undone. Sometimes you imagined her doing the same to you.
She pulls your face down toward her cunt, and you stick out your tongue, hungry to taste her. You lick her gently at first, small licks across the swelling of her clit and her flushed lips. You lick further down, parting her folds to taste at her entrance - for all her laughing and teasing, her pussy was as much of a traitor as yours when exposed like this. She was dripping.
Joel's rough hands pull your ass toward him, dragging your panties down to your knees, hobbling you. The couch dips and creaks behind you as he brings a foot up to better line up with your hole. The wetness of his cock slides through your slick folds once, twice, then notches the tip at your entrance before he pushes in in one, sheathing himself completely in the heat of your body. You moan and gasp around Tess's clit, never stopping the movement of your tongue.
"Not sure she can handle it," she half chuckles, half moans.
"She can," grits out Joel. "S'taken worse." He slides out and punches all the way back in again, the feeling of his hips snapping against your ass so much less overwhelming when his cock was in your pussy and not your ass. You try desperately to keep up the movements of your mouth, wanting to feel Tess come undone at your hands, but blocking out Joel entirely is impossible with the distracting pound of his cock into you.
Tess grabs more of your hair, pulling it away from your neck and giving him a better view of you and her cunt.
"Fuck yeah, sweetheart," he groans now that he can see more clearly. "Lick that pussy."
"Been a while since you had multiple girls over, huh?" Tess taunts, throwing her head back before Joel can reply.
He nods, pulling your hips back into his as he thrusts forward. "Too fuckin' long." He groans again, meaty hands gripping your ass cheeks hard and pulling you apart at the seams as he pounds into you.
You slip a finger into her wet heat, curling it upwards as you feel inside of her. She's as slick as you, and you wonder if she's ever taken Joel as you have. The thought makes you moan again, just as Joel picks up the pace of his thrusts, slamming into you so hard your mouth jerks over Tess's cunt.
You try to steady yourself, fluttering your tongue flutters over Tess's clit, circling and suckling it into your mouth. You ignore the sensation building inside you as Joel's balls smack against your neglected clit each time he buries himself in you. It's too many feelings, too many sensations all at once.
Joel's hips stutter as he slams his cock into you, chasing his own release, already so close after you'd had him in your mouth for so long. Even closer from watching Tess tease you with her fingers buried in your needy cunt, watching your tongue lathe over hers.
You hear a strangled "Fuck" before he slams his hips forward again, slick cock slipping deep inside you as he floods your pussy with warm, wet cum. You moan into Tess's clit as you feel yourself heat from the inside out.
"Shit. Shit," he sighs from behind you. You want to turn to look at the fucked out look on his face. You nearly do.
"Don't stop, almost there," pants Tess, almost begging you with your face still buried in her wet heat, lapping at her clit with a finger curled inside her. "Pretty girl, almost there," she croons, stroking your hair and rocking into your face.
Gentle circles on her clit turn firmer, more rapid, and the hand in your hair grips you tighter as you pull her release from her. She grinds against your face, pussy throbbing as you lick her pulsing clit through her orgasm.
That same hand yanks you back a moment later, too sensitive to continue, before she relaxes back into the couch with a sigh.
"She's good, Joel," she breathes, a hand idly stroking your hair. You hear Joel grunt in agreement from behind you, his hands still holding onto your ass, and your cheeks heat with the praise.
He moves away, pulling his cock from where it had softened inside you, watching as a small trickle of cum escapes to drip down to your neglected clit.
"Looks like you earned your meds today," Tess laughs, patting your cheek, before standing to pull her pants back on without another word to you.
Still on your hands and knees on the couch, you watch her approach Joel, kissing him on the side of the mouth as he stares, breathing deeply, at your ass. His cum is still dribbling out of you. You flip to sit back on your ass, trying to stop its escape making too much of a mess on his furniture.
She whispers something into his ear, moves to the door, looks at you with a smirk one last time before opening it and leaving.
The door snaps shut, and she's gone.
As soon as the door closes he's on you again, pushing you back down into the couch with a growl. The air is knocked out of you as your back thuds down and he hoists your legs back, folding you in two.
Holding you down and open, the wetness of his mouth engulfs your pussy, slurping your clit into his mouth.
He's devouring you, eagerly eating all of his cum out your hole and cleaning you of his creamy spend.
You moan and twitch beneath him, having spent the last fuck knows how long with your mouth full but the desperate need in your pussy neglected. You'd hoped he could fuck an orgasm out of you, but as soon as the pressure of his cock in you had gotten good, the slap of his balls against your clit hard enough to send a thrill through you, he'd stuttered to a stop, leaving you with an aching pussy and nothing to show for it.
A strong arm pins you down, keeping your legs back, feet in the air. Two of his thick fingers thrust into you, before he pulls them out, licking them clean, then he plunges three straight back in, stretching you more than Tess's four ever had and making you whine, high pitched and needy, for more.
You're so close, so near to falling over the edge, but his desperate licks are too desperate, not focussed enough on your oversensitive pussy, too frantic. You feel like you've been edged for hours, but your clit has barely been touched until now. It's been left starving, aching for attention.
"Joel!" you ground out desperately, looking between your thrown back legs where he feasts on you. His eyes catch you, catch the desperation, the need, and he slows down, honing in on your clit, lapping in steady circles, fingers pumping deeply.
Your toes curl, tears come to your eyes and your bottom lip quivers. You nod at him. He's found it. Exactly what you need, the exact spot. He's relentless now, his tongue moving over, and over, and over as his eyes lock with yours.
"Ohhhnnnnng."
"That's it," you feel him mumble into your clit. "Good girl."
And you're cascading over the edge, into a pit of white heat, different but similar to the one in his eyes when you first saw him today. You shudder and jerk, his tongue flicking over your sensitive bud drawing wave after wave out of you as your pussy spasms around his fingers, gripping them tight and tethering you down as you writhe.
You twitch with oversensitivity and Joel finally stops, tongue leaving your clit, lips pressing firmly to your mound instead as he breathes you in. Your body heaves and you sink further into the couch, stomach muscles finally letting you unfurl from where you'd chased your orgasm so desperately.
"Fuck," he groans so close you can feel his lips move on your skin. All you can do is nod weakly in response. "You okay?" You nod again, not trusting your voice and still not entirely sure you're conscious.
His thick fingers pull from you, leaving you empty, and his hands gently guide your legs down to rest on the couch. Blood is still pounding through your ears, but you hear and feel it... the air that Joel's fingers had pumped into you chooses that moment to escape in one humiliating gust.
Your face drops with embarrassment, and you hear Joel laugh from between your legs.
"Sign of a job done good," he laughs, kissing down onto your pussy, tongue gently swiping along your sensitive clit again. You try to wiggle away, letting out another rumble, fucking fuck, and immediately still as Joel laughs more.
"You done?" he says into your cunt, spreading you slightly to look at your spent hole then to you. "I think she's good." He kisses your clit once more and sits back, stretching his back out on the sofa with his arms behind his head.
You both sit there in silence, recovering your breath and coming back down to earth. Your knees knock together as your legs relax. You close your eyes, breathing deeply, and let the chill of the room cool your sweaty body and the heat of embarrassment from your cheeks.
Much sooner than you'd like, you feel Joel start to move.
"I ain't mad at you, y'know," he says softly as he tucks his cock back into his pants. "Was never mad at you. Just mad."
You knew that already, but hearing him say it still made you feel better. It made you feel like you'd done the right thing, that you hadn't pulled him into something he didn't want. You were justified, you were right. He wanted, needed, to use you as much as you needed to be used.
"You should get goin'," he moves to stand as he speaks, walking away from the couch and from you.
"But -"
He shuts you up with a single look. You sit up wordlessly, casting your eyes down. He was right - what exactly would you even be staying for, really, other than because some part of you wanted to.
You dress in silence, panties still around your knees pulled up, clothes thrown on haphazardly, pills stuffed into an empty pocket. Joel doesn't watch this time, instead he rifles through the box left by Tess. You never see into it, but you watch his profile shift and change as he reacts to what she left for him.
You move closer to the table, making way to leave his apartment without another word, when he's closing the box and speaking.
"I've had a vasectomy," he says pointing to your now covered crotch. "So, y'know... should be fine."
"Oh." You hadn't even thought about it. You didn't even care. "You... you could've done that in my mouth too. I wouldn't have minded."
"Your mouth was occupied," he smirks with a shrug. "Besides, if I wanted to, I would've."
He gestures for you to leave, so you do, Joel following you to the door as you go. You open it yourself, just as Tess had, and walk out. You don't have time to finish saying thank you before the door is shut behind you, leaving you alone in the corridor yet again. You make your way home in silence.
You dream that night of soft lips on your cheek, softer hands roaming your body. The softness morphs and distorts, growing larger and more ragged. Rough hands drag along you, and the scruff of a beard scratches your face as a kiss too delicate to be real comes impossibly close to your mouth.
You wake in a sweat, heat pulsing through your veins and your cunt throbbing between your legs.
You'd come in your sleep to nothing but desperate thoughts of a kiss you'd never had.
next part
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Learning to Live Part 30
summary: Sunday—it’s Javier’s 40th birthday, and you have some sexy surprises planned for when you get home from dinner. Monday—you’re back at work after your lovely vacation, and it’s time to bite the bullet and tell your disapproving family that you’re getting married. You can probably guess how well that goes over…
rating: E (18+! A good chunk of this is about birthday sex. No y/n, alternating POV, age gap (around ten years), unprotected p in v (wrap it up), creampie, oral sex (m & f receiving), 69, face sitting, butt plugs (f), anal play (f receiving), double penetration, breeding kink, lingerie, nude photos, dirty talk, praise kink, spanking, spit mention, waxing poetic about Javier’s dick, getting KO’d from orgasms, banter, domestic fluff, fluff, emotional hurt/comfort, death of a parent/grief, dysfunctional family, arguing, period typical sexism, spoiling Javier for his birthday, nurse stories (humorous), Javier being the little spoon, discussion about eating habits, Javier making you post-sex food, a special guest makes an appearance)
pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader (reader is a nurse with no physical descriptions)
word count: 16.8k (Why am I like this?)
a/n: This chapter was supposed to be solely about birthday sex, but something happened, I’m not sure what, and somehow there’s a lot of plot in it now? I apologize. I am at the mercy of the characters. I hope you enjoy! Thank you to the love of my life @juletheghoul, for betaing! You’re incredible.
Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to know what you thought!
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There was a game Javier liked to play when you went out to eat with people and were seated next to one another. It was kind of like Chicken, where two cars drive toward each other, and one of them has to swerve, or else they’ll crash—basically, it was a test to see how ballsy you were and how much of a risk you were willing to take to come out as the victor. In Javi’s version, it involved his hand under the table on your knee that would slowly creep up your thigh and under your dress, if you were wearing one, or along your pant-covered leg to try and make it to his goal nestled between your thighs—it was up to you to determine how far he’d get. Were you going to chicken out and stop his movements? Or were you going to be ballsy and let him get to the finish line? Honestly, it depended on how you were feeling and who you were with because it was really distracting when he rubbed your pussy in the middle of trying to have a conversation with someone. Still, the game was a lot of fun, and sometimes you liked to mess with him by letting him get almost all the way to his prize before you denied him, just to keep him on his toes.
Another thing was that there wasn’t always one round. Sometimes, he’d wait a bit and try his luck, again and again, to see how many attempts it’d take to get to the Tootsie Roll center of your Tootsie Pop—unless you told him to stop, then his hand would make itself at home, holding your thigh.
Tonight was Javi's 40th birthday, and you'd gone out to dinner with his father. Usually, on such a special day—and the fact you were always horny for him—you'd allow his palm to reach its destination. This evening, however, you had stopped all of his attempts and wouldn't let him get very far since you didn't want to ruin the surprise that was hiding under your dress—and your fiancé was very, very curious about what your undergarment situation was, getting to the point you kept his hand still between your closed thighs until it was time to leave.
The meal and catching up with Chucho had been wonderful—hanging out with your soon-to-be father-in-law was always a great time.
On the morning that you called the older man to tell him about your engagement, you laughed when he said he'd have something put in writing about his promises that he'd love you both living with him and wouldn't mind if there was a newborn there, too. You were well aware of his eagerness to have grandchildren and bet Javi twenty dollars his dad was going to show up today with legal documents on the matter, and you'd been right—he had a large manila envelope with an agreement he had his lawyer put together inside for you. Once dinner was done, you found out that wasn't all he brought; Chucho presented Javi with a Tupperware container filled with a big slice of tres leches cake his tía María made from his mother’s recipe. As he ate, his dad quietly serenaded him with a song called “Las Mañanitas,” much to his chagrin, the first part being:
“Estas son las mañanitas, que cantaba el Rey David,
(This is the morning song that King David sang),
Hoy por ser día de tu santo, te las cantamos a ti,
(Because today is your saint’s day, we’re singing it for you),
Despierta, mi Javi, despierta, mira que ya amaneció,
(Wake up, mi Javi, wake up, look it is already dawn),
Ya los pajarillos cantan, la luna ya se metió,
(The birds are already singing, and the moon has set).”
There was a promise between the three of you that the restaurant staff wouldn’t be alerted that it was Javier’s birthday in order to avoid the employees bringing attention to him and singing; he didn’t, however, put any restrictions on his father or you singing to him, and Chucho was happily exploiting that loophole while his son grumpily devoured his cake he shared with you.
Javi wasn’t actually annoyed with his dad—he had the Tupperware practically licked clean by the time you were ready to go, and before you left, he gave his dad a big hug and whispered his thanks for having the cake made since it was something his mother always baked for their birthdays.
The big 4-0 was a milestone that usually involved a celebration, but your fiancé had declined his father and three tías offers to throw him a party and told everyone he didn’t want any gifts—he was determined not to make it a big deal, and only desired to have dinner with you and Chucho; the tres leches cake was a wonderful surprise, and definitely appreciated, though.
All of that brings you to where you were currently—sitting beside Javi on the bench seat of his truck as he drove you home. He’d pulled up your dress to bare your knee, resting his hand on it, and you were wondering when he would give his game another go; you knew him and that there was no way he’d be able to resist trying again, now that you were alone.
"Did you enjoy your birthday?" you asked, doing your best to keep your squirming to a minimum as you tried to find a comfortable position.
"Yeah," he answered, glancing at you with a smile. "I loved spending the day with you, seeing my mom—" You stopped by the cemetery on your way to dinner to tell her about your engagement. "—and going to dinner with Pop. Today was nice."
You hugged his arm. "I'm happy you had a good day, even though a certain someone—" Lorraine. "—tried to ruin it. Do you think she'll listen and leave us alone?" There'd been an altercation with her on your walk to the restaurant, and Javi finally had his chance to give her a piece of his mind and threaten her and her family with restraining orders if they didn't stop bothering you.
His eyes were back on the road, a frown replacing his smile.
"Maybe? She's been dead set on making my life difficult since I left her, and I don't know if she'll be able to give up."
"Guess we'll just have to see." A change in subject was needed. "Sooo, do you have any requests for tonight?"
His fingers stroked the inside of your knee.
"What do you mean?"
He started slowly moving his hand along your thigh, your palm resting on his jean-covered leg.
"You know exactly what I mean. It's your birthday, so you get anything you want."
He turned his head your way for a few seconds.
“I thought you had tonight planned.”
"I do." You nodded. "But you're the birthday boy, and I wanna make sure to include any specific desires you may have for this evening."
His focus went to what was in front of him, his fingers skating up your inner thigh and under your dress.
"Hmmm," he hummed. "I know you don't want to spoil tonight, but will I get to eat your pussy?"
"If you want to, sure."
"Are you gonna suck my dick?"
"Oh, yeah."
"Will I get to come inside you?"
There was a pause for a moment as you figured out how to respond. "...yes?"
He looked over at you with a curious expression. "That's... interesting. With how you answered, I'll be coming inside you, but not where I imagined…"
You frowned. "Javier, it is your birthday, and I won't have you ruining my surprises by you going all Detective Peña on me." To end the sentence, you squeezed your thighs shut to trap his hand and keep it from moving any further.
Your reaction made him pout and turn his attention back to the road.
"Fine," he said. "I won't think about it." He sighed. "I know you're not wearing panties. I won't be ruining any surprises if you let me touch you."
"Sure, but I want you to wait until we get home so you can undress me."
"Okay."
You rubbed his arm with your free hand. "Patience, baby—you're gonna have a great time."
His eyes met yours, and he smiled. "I know, mi amor (my love), and I'm fucking excited." He moved his hand out from between your legs to grab your smaller one on his thigh, pressing your palm against where he was half-hard beneath his jeans.
"You are excited,” you purred, rubbing him over his pants. “Better get you nice and hard before we get home.”
“With what I’m hoping will happen tonight? That won’t be an issue, Cielito.”
Once you arrived at your shared apartment, you hung up the jean jacket you were wearing, setting your purse onto the console table near the front door, Javi emptying his pockets into the large bowl on top of it. Both of you kicked off your shoes, and your fiancé laid his folded sports coat over the back of the couch before he was on you, his lips hungrily colliding with yours in a searing kiss—one of his arms went around you to pull you flush against him, his other hand cradling the back of your head, making you moan when he eagerly licked into your mouth.
His kisses were sweet from the cake, tasting it on his tongue, arousal burning hot in your abdomen. He had your toes curling and skin vibrating, wanting him so bad, and he seemed to want you just as much when he turned and walked you toward your room with your lips fused together.
Anticipation was swelling inside you, butterflies going wild in your tummy at hoping Javi really did enjoy what you had in store for him.
As your feet moved, your hands worked open the buttons on his shirt, rubbing your palms up the warm skin of his torso once it was bared, feeling the soft give of his belly to his muscular chest—moving higher along his neck, cupping his cheeks, then pressing your fingers into his soft hair.
The moment you stepped into your room, he unzipped the back of your dress and moved you a little further inside to have you at the end of your big, king-sized bed. Javi broke the kiss, shrugging off his shirt that fell to the floor, his hungry gaze focusing on your chest—he was careful when he took the red, satiny shoulder straps into his hands, and pulled the dress down and off your arms, revealing your bosom, and letting gravity take the rest of it to the ground, where it pooled around your feet.
“Fuck,” he breathed. Javi was unable to stop himself; it was as if there was some kind of magnetic pull that had his hand reaching to palm your lace-covered breast. His eyes had darkened, the front of his jeans bulging where he was straining against the zipper. "This is what you've been hiding all night?" he asked, his free palm massaging your other tit.
His reaction made you feel good about your choice of lingerie.
The red teddy covered most of your breasts and down your ribs in sheer lace with laces crisscrossing from one side to the other on the front and back to keep the pieces together; the best part about it, and what you knew was Javi’s favorite part, was the fact nothing was covering your crotch or ass—it was put on like a one-piece swimsuit, your legs going through two thin straps, with the rest of the bottom completely bare.
There was a similar teddy you owned in a pretty plum color that covered more of your skin in lace.
"Yes," you answered. "Do you like it?"
His gaze met yours, and he stepped into your space, his big hands going around to grab your bare backside.
He was smirking with his eyebrow raised. "Do I like it?" he rasped. Javi squeezed your ass. "You know I fucking love it, mi amor (my love)." His lips met yours, kissing you quickly before he ended it with a playful nip to your bottom lip, pulling his head back to look at you. "You're so fucking sexy—Christ, I want you so fucking bad."
Your hands slid up his chest to caress his cheeks, smiling at him.
"I have another surprise for you..." you said.
His eyes rounded. "There's more?" he asked.
You booped him on the nose with your finger. "Yep," you answered. "You're getting spoiled tonight."
"You don't need to spoil me."
"Um, yes, I do. It's your special day. Plus, you spoiled me on my birthday by letting me tie you up and edge you—this is me making sure your night is just as wonderful." You poked him over his pec.
He grabbed your hand, bringing it up to kiss your knuckles as he smiled. "Happy fucking birthday to me."
"Yes, now, pants off, mister,” you ordered. “I don't want you coming in them." The sentence was punctuated with a wink.
What you said made him chuckle. "Yes, ma'am."
Stepping back from him, his hands went to the front of his jeans to quickly get them off. His belt clinked as he worked it open, hearing the teeth separate when he undid his zipper, the pants getting shoved down his legs, Javi having to do the awkward dance of lifting each foot to tug them off, along with his socks.
Once he was completely naked, he closed the distance between you, his big palms holding your face when he crushed his mouth to yours, kissing you hard. You snaked your hand down into the tight space your bodies had created to grab his throbbing cock, the skin velvety soft and hot to the touch, making him moan into the kiss. His hips bucked forward in your grip while you slowly pumped him. His hand massaged your breast and tweaked your nipple through the lace, his other palm tracing along your jawbone, the shell of your ear, and down to your neck, he gently held as you kissed, leaving a trail of fire under your skin.
"Let me show you your surprise," you murmured against his lips.
"'Mmkay," he said and didn't stop kissing you.
It was up to you to break away from him, Javi chasing your mouth when you did, making you grin and press your hand to his chest to softly push him back—his eyes were closed, his lips turned up in a smile, looking so unbelievably happy.
"Adorable," you whispered.
His chest was slightly heaving from his heavy breaths, his lips red and shining from saliva.
"Open those pretty brown eyes, babe,” you told him. “It’s time for your surprise." They blinked open, and he grabbed your waist.
"What is it?" he asked, his head dipping to kiss along the column of your throat. You took one of his hands and slid it behind you over your ass to between your cheeks.
His breath caught in his throat, his face popping up to meet your eyes with a look of surprise.
“Holy fuck,” he gasped. “Is that…?”
His reaction made you grin even bigger. “A very cute butt plug? Yes, it is.”
The plug was made out of smooth pink-colored glass with a tapered tip and bulbous body, the slender neck making it easy for your tight muscles to wrap around it and hold it in place, the flared base covering your hole shaped into a daisy flower.
As you said, it was very cute and filled you nicely—any time you moved, it had a tingle dancing up your spine, fueling the arousal sparking in your tummy.
His fingers were mapping out the flower, gliding over the petals, his gaze locking onto yours, seeing his cheeks had a lovely pink tint.
"Does this mean what I think it means…?" he asked with hope gleaming in those big, gorgeous brown eyes of his.
"That you can fuck my ass? Yes." You nodded. "I figured the toy would save us some time stretching me out."
He looked beyond delighted. "I am so fucking hard right now—how long have you been wearing it?"
"Since I excused myself at dinner to use the ladies' room—spoiler, I was in there getting this inside me; I brought lube and everything."
He was smiling. "My dirty fucking girl." His hand, not on your ass, came up to cup your cheek. "You kept adjusting in your seat when you got back, I thought you were horny—it's why I kept trying to touch your pussy—confused the fuck out of me that you wouldn't let me."
"I didn't want you to discover the lingerie or accidentally feel the plug."
"I get that now—can I see it?"
"Of course." You kissed him quickly and took a few steps to crawl up onto the bed, your hands and knees sinking into the mattress as you got onto all fours to present your ass to him. Seconds later, his warm palms were grabbing your asscheeks, spreading them.
You looked over your shoulder, and his eyes were glued to your backside.
"It’s so fucking pretty," he mused, rubbing a thumb over the base. “Can I take a picture?”
“Need it for your spank bank collection?”
In his bedside table was a stack of your nude Polaroids he liked to jack off to when the need very rarely arose.
His gaze lifted to yours with a smile. “Yeah, I do.”
“Then go for it.”
He walked away from you to grab the Polaroid camera off his dresser, returning seconds later. One of his hands pushed aside a plump cheek to give him a better visual.
“I fucking love this,” he murmured. The camera flashed, then whirred as it ejected the photo, Javi setting both out of the way on the bed. He was back behind you, staring at what he’d just photographed. “Am I allowed to touch it?” he asked.
"It's your birthday—you get to do whatever the fuck you want to me; mi cuerpo es tu cuerpo (my body is your body)."
He looked you in the eyes.
"I love you so much. I don't know how I got so fucking lucky—you're perfect."
"You're perfect."
His thumb circled around the edges of the glass flower, making you moan when he experimented by pulling it out a little and pushing it back in, loving the stretch—he did it again and again, and, again, Javi leaning his head down to spit on your pussy, the fingers of his other hand spreading it through your slit to rub your clit.
There was no way to stop your gasping moans as the toy was fucking in and out of your tight hole at the same time his hand strummed your bundle of sensitive nerves like a virtuoso—the sensations had your eyes rolling back in your head, the muscles in your abdomen starting to tighten as he built you up, higher and higher.
You had to face forward, your arms giving out, and crossing in front of you to rest your head on them—this was going to end quickly with how fucking good it felt, and you weren’t surprised when your orgasm hit, pleasure washing over you with a loud cry of his name.
Your breaths were ragged, sweat beginning to form on your skin.
“My good girl,” Javi purred. Both of his hands suddenly stopped, and a palm smacked the side of your ass, the sharp sting making you gasp.
"I need to eat your pussy," his voice was deeper and huskier.
Your entire body flattened onto the bed, and you turned on your side to look at him. The words came out hoarse, "How do you want me?"
"We can do anything I want...?" he asked. "Is there, uh, anything you're not in the mood for?"
Your eyebrow lifted. "Aside from my regular things I'm not into, nope—I'm down for whatever you want. What do you have in mind?"
He smirked. "You sitting on my face?"
You smiled. "Of course, you'd wanna drown in my pussy on your birthday."
"Yeah, and, uh—" He scratched at the back of his neck. "—would you wanna suck me off while I did it...?"
With how much you guys fucked, you were pretty sure Javi had put you in every position imaginable, but this request was new. Sitting on his face was something you’d done many times, but adding in having you blow him at the same time had your cunt clenching hard around nothing.
"Um, yes," you answered, nodding your head. "That is definitely something I want to do. Get your cute little ass on this bed and get comfy." You patted the bedding beside you. "I wanna take that perfect mustache for a ride."
Javi chuckled as he got onto the mattress and moved up it to flop over on his back, resting his head on a pillow he fluffed to get cozy. His hard dick was lying against his belly, the tip glossy with precum and dripping into the happy trail of hair on his stomach.
It took him a second to get settled before he tapped his chest, his eyes heavy-lidded and crookedly smiling.
“Get up here, baby—this mustache isn’t gonna ride itself.”
You snorted and started to crawl his way.
"Dork," you said.
"One you love."
"That I do.”
When you got to his side, you swung yourself around to face his feet, getting your leg over his torso to straddle him. Javi gripped your thighs and pulled you back to have your wet pussy hovering over his face, two of his fingers spreading open the lips of your sex.
"So fucking pretty," he murmured. He inhaled deeply. "You smell so good, too."
His cock was in front of you, and you held yourself up with one arm to wrap the fingers of your other hand around his length.
"In case I haven't said it lately," you started, languidly stroking him, "you literally have the prettiest dick I've ever seen.”
It was true.
He did have the prettiest dick you've ever laid your eyes on—at full mast, he was just shy of eight inches, cut, not too thin, but not too girthy, either; it was just the right size that when he was inside you, there was a nice stretch and perfect fullness. On the underside of his shaft, two throbbing veins were crawling up the sides and another along the top you liked to trace with your tongue; licking around the velvety soft ridge at the tip and over his frenulum was a surefire way to drive him crazy and get him to make absolutely delicious noises, and when he was coming, you could feel him get bigger and jerk in your mouth, hand, or cunt. If you were looking, you could see his balls draw up and his cock pulse as he unloaded spurts and spurts of his come.
It was truly a work of art.
“And being in a medical profession,” you continued, “I’ve seen a lot of dicks—95% I wish I hadn't seen."
He snorted. "Thank you—you have the prettiest pussy I've ever seen, and I've seen a lot of pussy."
"The prettiest pussy?" You didn't mean to sound so surprised. "Really?"
"Oh yeah, the prettiest and the fucking tastiest."
It was evident Javi was done with the conversation by how he tugged your hips down onto his face and began feasting—which was an apt descriptor for how he eagerly dove in and the groans he made that sounded like he was eating the best meal of his entire life.
He licked through your wetness and over the lips of your cunt to get every last drop of your arousal he could find on his tongue; it felt so amazing you forgot for a minute you were supposed to be sucking him off. Gripping him at the base, you took him into your mouth, your head bobbing as you sucked down more and more of him until he was hitting the back of your throat.
His lips wrapped around your perky little clit, and when he sucked, it was like having lightning shock through you from the pleasure, your loud moan muffled by his cock in your mouth—it was hard to concentrate, and you put what little attention you had on the tip of him, licking along the sensitive ridge, pumping the rest of his spit-slick shaft with your palm that twitched, and loving how it made Javi whine.
He tasted salty from the steady leak of precum and clean, the scent of his skin smelling like the body wash he used in the shower. The lingering note coming through was Eucalyptus—woodsy, fresh, minty.
It was embarrassing that you were struggling to give him a basic blow job, doing your best not to get overwhelmed by his determined mouth trying to take you apart piece by piece as he licked, sucked, and tongue fucked you with abandon.
Fire was burning in your tummy and getting hotter with every second that passed. His dick was sliding along your palate to kiss the back of your throat, and you almost choked when he pulled and pushed on the toy in your ass.
It was skating the line of too much, how the plug was moving a little out to stretch your hole and being shoved back in to fill you again—thinking was hard, and you had to come off of him, unable to keep from moaning or stop your limbs from trembling.
“Oh, god,” you whined. “Oh, fuck.”
With how intense it felt, there was no way you could focus on sucking him off. What you could do was continue stroking his length, your hand gliding easily up and down while you were rocketing toward your end from him fucking you with the toy and sucking your clit. Your hips were moving of their own accord, rocking back to help fuck yourself and grind against his mouth.
Sixty-nining sounded fun in theory. The problem you ran into was your fiancé was relentless in wanting to make you come as hard as humanly possible, which made it practically impossible for you to do your part—it was too distracting. The pleasure had consumed all of your thoughts, and you could barely function.
The coil was winding inside you, getting tighter and tighter until it snapped, and euphoria was exploding from your center with a cry of his name, feeling your orgasm throughout your entire body from the tips of your fingers to your toes. Immediately, he shoved his tongue inside your fluttering hole to lick up your release, refusing to let a single drop of your come go to waste, and you could feel and hear his moans as you experienced the aftershocks of your climax.
With how hard you came, your hand paused on him, your upper body dropping, resting your head on his thigh to catch your breath and ride out your high.
Javi stopped behind you, lifting you from his face and inhaling deeply, taking big gasps of air.
"You okay?" his voice was rough.
"Mhmm," you hummed, speaking seeming too hard.
"You need a minute?"
"Mhmm."
"Let go of my dick."
You did as he asked and squeaked in surprise when he pushed you over to fall to the bed on your side.
"Sorry," he said. The mattress jostled, and pained grunts sounded from him, finding yourself seconds later getting wrapped up in his arms with your head on his chest.
“Did it feel good?” he asked and kissed your hair.
“Mhmm.”
“You come so quick with stuff in your ass.”
You smiled, finally finding your words. “You also come quick with stuff in your ass.”
“Yeah, I do—do you want me to fuck you while you’re wearing it?”
“Do you want to fuck me while I’m wearing it?”
“I wanna see how tight it makes you.”
“Uh-huh, and you wanna come in my pussy because you are on a mission to knock me up, and you would hate missing a chance.”
“That’s not all—it helps me last when I fuck your ass.”
“That’s true. It’s basically a medicinal cream pie. You know, earlier this year, they came out with a pill to help men keep it up, and we had a guy come into the ER who’d taken one—which, just so you’re aware,” you sidetracked, “if you have an erection lasting more than four hours, you need to seek medical help, and this dude was at almost six hours with a raging boner.”
He was frowning. “Did it go down on its own…?”
“Nope. A doctor had to use a syringe to remove some of the blood.”
"Jesus Christ, just thinking about that makes my dick hurt."
"Sorry." You rubbed your hand over his pec. "Let's talk about something else."
"Where'd you get the toy?"
A reasonable question, seeing as the closest sex shop was hours away in the big city.
"Okay, remember last month when you, me, Robyn, and Seb—" Sebastián, or Seb, was Robyn's boyfriend and Javi's cousin. "—spent that weekend in San Antonio, and you guys let us have our girls-only spa day while you and Seb went to see that movie about corrupt NSA agents that annoyed the fuck out of you because they got a lot of the government shit wrong, which you explained in excruciating detail to Seb at a bar afterward? Well, after the spa, she took me to a sex shop, and we bought some stuff."
"If you’re gonna make a movie about a government agency, you should do the fucking research,” he grumbled. His tone changed to intrigue, “What else did you buy…?"
"Some flavored lube and fluffy handcuffs. I was super picky about the kind of plug I wanted because you’d be surprised how many people come into the hospital with things stuck in their asses.” A memory made you snort. “Oh my god, so one time, this man came in with probably twenty or so of those bigger marbles? You know, the ones that are about double the size of a regular one? Lodged up his butt. When he was asked how they got stuck in there, he told everyone he was at home, standing on a step ladder, cleaning the cobwebs from the ceiling when he accidentally fell off and onto a container of them—this man stood by his story that instead of the marbles scattering everywhere when he fell on them, they magically made their way inside him.”
“What the fuck?” Javi said in disbelief. “He really thought people would believe he was cleaning without pants on, fell, and marbles just went up his ass? That makes zero fucking sense.”
“People come up with the stupidest lies when they’re embarrassed.”
“Like when you told the hotel staff we were checking out early because my nephew was viciously attacked by a duck?”
“You’re a jerk.” You pinched his nipple, making him flinch and laugh. “You’re just never going to let me live that down, huh?”
He grabbed your hand to kiss your palm. “No—you’re a terrible liar.”
“Rude.”
“I’m sorry, baby.” He kissed each of your fingers. “Did you buy anything else at the shop?”
“No, because I wanna go there with you to pick out things we’d enjoy."
He perked up, immediately responding, "We could go next weekend?"
"Shopping the weekend before Christmas? That would be a special kind of hell. Sorry, babe, we'll have to wait till next month." You got your hand free of him and patted his chest.
He let out a long, disappointed sigh. "Fine."
Things needed to get back to being horny, so you threw your leg over his waist and moved to sit on top of him with your knees bracketing his hips. His cock was wet from saliva and hard beneath you, and you leaned forward to kiss him, holding yourself up with your arms on either side of his head—this wasn't a peck on the lips or something chaste; this was a kiss that told him you wanted him. The kind of kiss that had his big hands grabbing onto your behind and groaning into your mouth. A kiss where things quickly heated up, and he was helping you grind your wet cunt over his dick, coating it in your slick. A kiss that turned into desperation for him to be inside you.
“Mmm, need lube,” you said into his lips. Sitting up, you leaned to get under the large, folded, black towel near the edge of the bed to grab the small bottle. You popped the cap, pouring a little bit into your palm before closing it and letting it fall onto the mattress beside you.
“With how huge your dick is,” you started as you lifted your hips up. “There’s no way in hell you’re gonna fit without some help.” Javi’s mouth fell open when you grabbed his cock under you, getting it nice and slick with the strokes of your hand.
His throat bobbed, swallowing. “Good call.” With how his eyes widened for a split second, you knew an idea had come to him. He grabbed your thighs. “Wait,” he said.
Your hand paused. “What’s up?”
“I wanna change positions.”
That had your eyebrows lifting in interest. “Oh?”
He was crookedly smiling. “Hands and knees, baby,” he replied, with a light slap to your hip.
“Oh, hell yeah.” You’d finished lubing him up and quickly moved onto the bed next to him, getting into the position he requested, your hands and slightly spread knees sinking into the mattress. Javi groaned when he flipped over and rose up onto his knees, the bedsprings complaining as he shuffled around to get behind you.
The smartest decision you made when you moved in together was upgrading to a king-sized bed—there was so much room for sexy activities.
Bending forward, he reached to grab the camera and set it in a place where it was easily accessible but not in the way.
He slid his dick through your drenched folds, notching himself at your entrance, his other hand holding your hip.
“Tell me if it’s too much,” he said. “Okay?”
Looking over your shoulder, you met his eyes that were more black than brown. “Yes,” you answered.
He smiled. “Good girl—ready?”
“Yes, Papí.”
“Fuck,” he groaned, his eyes closing for a moment. He looked at you again. “Me vas a matar (You’re going to kill me).”
“If by kill, you mean la petite mort, then yeah, handsome, I’m gonna make you come so hard.” You winked. “Now, stick it in.” You pressed back the tiniest bit to have the tip of him starting to enter you.
“And you call me bossy when I’m horny,” he mumbled.
There wasn’t a chance to respond since moans sounded from the both of you as he slowly started sinking into you, taking his time to let your body adjust to being stuffed with each glorious inch of him until he was buried all the way to the root inside of you.
Full didn’t accurately describe how you felt with the plug in your ass pressing against his thick cock—you were beyond full. You honestly couldn’t believe he was able to fit; you couldn’t believe you were able to take him. It was so overwhelming, it had you whimpering, squeezing your eyes shut.
Javi’s voice came out strained, “Are you okay?”
There was no way you could hold yourself up on your arms with it requiring too much concentration, so you let your upper body fall to the bed, cradling your head with your limbs.
“Yes,” the word was said on a breath.
All of the nerves in your body were aflame, feeling like static was thrumming under your skin. You were okay—you just needed a minute to get used to having both of your holes filled at the same time.
“Okay, baby.” He rubbed a comforting hand along the line of your spine. “Tell me when you want me to move.”
He picked up the Polaroid camera.
“Definitely gonna jerk off to this,” he murmured, and you heard the camera snap the picture and the gears whir to spit it out—he’d taken a photo of himself inside of you while you wore the plug.
The camera and picture were set aside.
There was a question you couldn’t stop yourself from asking. “Am I tighter?”
He huffed out a breath. “Feels like you’re choking my dick with that toy in your ass—so, yeah, you’re tighter. You’ll probably cut off the circulation when I make you come, and you squeeze around me.”
Even though it was a struggle to think of anything other than the fullness, he made you worry. “Are you uncomfortable?” you asked. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable…”
“Mi amor.” He bent over your back to kiss the hair behind your ear, speaking softly, “I’m okay—I like how it feels. I’m really fucking worried I’m gonna come too fast.”
That made you feel better.
After an ample amount of time had passed for you to get used to everything, you said, “Move.”
He nipped at the shell of your ear, grunting as he straightened. He gripped your asscheeks and slowly dragged his cock halfway out of your sopping cunt before thrusting back in, stealing your breath. His pace started out languid to allow you to adapt to the feeling of him moving inside you, rough sounds rumbling from his chest, his fingers tightening on your flesh.
The plug made it easier for him to rub against all those spots that made fireworks dance behind your eyelids. Sweat glistened on your skin, the pleasure making you dizzy, and even though it had only just begun, you were already on the cusp of falling over the edge—intense was an understatement for how you felt. The heat was growing deep inside you, deeper than it usually did, the muscles in your tummy constricting.
His hips were slowly fucking into you, Javi grunting, and it was like nothing you had felt before—feeling so full and falling apart with every thrust.
“Oh, god, Javi,” you whined. “I’m gonna come. You’re gonna make me come.”
With how he spoke through clenched teeth, you knew he was fighting for his life not to finish so soon, “Come for me, baby.” He smacked your ass, the pleasurable sting making you clench and his rhythm stutter. “Shit,” he gasped. “You’re so fucking tight—it feels so good.”
It was wet and sticky where you were joined, Javi coaxing wave after wave of arousal from your pussy that soaked his cock and dripped down to coat his balls—his thrusts were loud, squelching sounding every time he pushed in. Moans were escaping your lips while deeper noises ripped from his chest.
Javier wasn’t a tiny guy—just his cock made you feel full, and now you had it pressing into your sensitive walls against a rigid toy that turned up the sense of fullness to a ten and felt so fucking incredible that when he sped up his strokes, you were done for; pleasure erupted from deep in your depths that had your mouth opening in a silent scream and every muscle in your body pulling taut, hearing the man behind you let out a strangled groan as he suddenly stopped moving.
No thoughts could form in your brain, your chest rising and falling hard, your pussy pulsing as you rode out the high. Your ears rang, and you were too out of it to make out what Javi was saying, him sounding like the adults in a Peanuts film; a muted trombone going, ”Wah wah wah.”
A body pressed against your back, feeling hot breaths on your ear.
“Cielito?” he whispered.
“Mhmm?” you hummed.
“You okay, mi amor?”
“Mhmm,” you answered and gave him a thumbs up.
“Do you want me to keep going?”
The words slurred from your mouth, “Yes, please. I want you to come.”
“Okay. If it gets to be too much, tell me.” He kissed your hair, a pained sound leaving him as he moved up on his knees again.
Each time you’d done anal in the past, he’d made you come so many times you ended up passing out afterward. This time, though, the orgasms had been much stronger, and it was already hard to keep your eyes open—there was a chance if you had another, it was going to put you to sleep, and you knew Javi wouldn’t care, but you felt bad about possibly needing a little nap before he had a chance to fuck your ass.
“Javi?” you said.
“Yes, baby?” His palms slid along your sides from your waist to just below your ribs.
“I’m sorry if I fall asleep…”
He sounded confused. “Why are you apologizing for that…?”
“Because I know you’re super excited my ass is up for grabs tonight, and I feel bad I might have to make you wait while I take a little snooze.”
“Cielito, mi amor, it’s okay. Don’t be sorry, baby. I’m gonna tell you something that might surprise you.”
“What’s that?”
“Getting to fuck your pussy like this is better than fucking your ass.”
That surprised you so much that your eyes popped open, and you almost couldn’t believe him, except you knew he wasn’t lying since he was always truthful with you. Your knees were still under you with your butt up in the air, and Javi nestled all of the way inside you, your chest pressed to the mattress. You twisted your upper body to look back at him.
His forehead was shiny with sweat, his hair sticking wetly to it, a beautiful flush rising from his chest up to his cheeks, his darkened eyes meeting yours.
“Are you serious?” you asked.
His eyebrow arched. “Yeah? Why would I lie? Think about it—the plug makes your pussy so fucking tight, and I get to come in it.” He put it into plainer terms, “You’re tighter than hell, and I could knock you up.”
“Oh, you’re having the best time.”
He smiled. “I’m having the best fucking time.”
“You like the plug?”
“I love the plug. Do you like it?”
“Yeah, makes me come harder.”
“Then stop feeling bad.” He slapped your ass, and it made you tense, his mouth going slack and eyes closing at you clenching around his dick. “Jesus Christ,” he breathed, his throat worked as he swallowed hard. “It’s okay if you pass out,” he said. “I might pass out, too.”
He pulled himself almost all of the way out of your cunt, and pushed back in, the fullness making your head spin and pleasure simmer in your belly. He was definitely going to get you off again, and you no longer worried about what would happen when you did.
He was going to come, and it'd only been—he looked over at the red numbers of the alarm clock on the bedside table—eight fucking minutes since he first put his dick inside her, or more accurately, worked his dick inside her.
Javier knew it was going to be a tight fit, but what he hadn't expected was it feeling like when he pressed into her ass: the ring of muscle squeezing him hard as he fed himself into her. With the addition of the plug, there was the same tightness, yet it wasn't only at the opening; it extended further into her, massaging his cock with her hot, tight, velvety walls. He was balancing on a razor's edge to not blow his load, and her coming didn't help with how it made her pussy strangle his dick to the point it was toeing the line of being painful.
He was in heaven.
And when he made her come again, he knew she was going to take him with her.
He was rock hard, his heart thudding rapidly in his chest, and skin coated in a thin layer of sweat—Javier was wound up so tight, a ball of tension had formed in his gut that was threatening to burst; she said the toy made her come harder, and it looked like it was going to be the same for him.
His fingers dug into the soft skin on her hips, sliding himself in and out of her wet heat and having to take a big, calming breath, slowly letting it out to get himself under control and focus on not finishing so quickly.
Shifting his gaze down, he could see his cock covered in her juices, glimmering under the lights of the room before sheathing it back inside of her, and the pretty, pink glass flower covering her asshole. He was so sensitive from being close to losing it, the pressure from the toy's solid body and the warmth of her were driving him crazy and making him throb.
He increased the speed of his movements, gritting his teeth, her sounds spurring him on. He wanted to make her come once more, but he didn't have much time with the pleasure welling up in him and growing with every passing second.
His hand gripped her asscheek, his strokes not waning as the fingers of his other hand got ahold of the plug's flared base, pulling on it to stretch her hole until only the tip remained, and slipping it back in, doing that over and over again, and out of sync to his own thrusts.
The way she loudly moaned his name and stretched her arms out in front of her to clutch the bedding with her cheek to the mattress had him twitching inside of her, electricity shocking through his body. Her pussy was pulsating around him, her arousal seeping down his shaft to catch on his sack, and he knew she was close.
"You gonna give me one more, Cielito?" he grunted, continuing to fuck her with his dick and the toy. "Does it feel good getting both of your holes fucked?"
"Yes," she gasped. "Oh my fucking god, it feels so good, Javi." Her hands clenched the sheets, her body shaking. "You’re fucking me so good—marry me; put a baby in me." His rhythm faltered for a second at the stab of pleasure in his belly, and he groaned.
The muscles in his groin started contracting, his orgasm imminent, and he tried to hold it off. His hips moved faster, beads of perspiration dripping down his face and the small of his back.
"I will," he panted. "I'll marry you; I'll fuck a baby into you. I'll do anything you ask me to." His eyes were cinched tight, and he was so lost in her that his thoughts were flowing freely from his mouth. "Dime cuándo, y te haré mi esposa (Tell me when, and I'll make you my wife). En cualquier momento, soy tuyo (Any time, I'm yours). Siempre seré tuyo (I'll always be yours). Puedes tener mi apellido (You can have my last name). Seguiré intentándolo hasta que estés embarazada con nuestro bebé (I'll keep trying until you're pregnant with our baby). Serás la madre de mis hijos (You will be the mother of my children). I can't fucking wait—come for me," he ordered. "Give me one more, and my come is yours. I'll pump you full of it. I'll put a baby in you. Come for me," he all but begged.
That was it.
She gasped his name, her body going stiff, and cunt spasming, wringing out his own orgasm—his hips went flush to her ass, burying himself as deep as possible in her depths, the tightly wound ball in his belly snapping hard enough, he fell forward, blanketing her back. The sounds he made were guttural as pleasure seared through his entire being, his cock pulsing and pumping so many spurts of his come he thought it might never end.
His brain went blissfully blank, his body completely lax, his soul possibly leaving him for some seconds since everything went dark, and he couldn't think of a single thought.
When he came to, he was bone tired and on the verge of falling asleep. Thankfully, he had the presence of mind to bring her with him as he moved to lie on his side, her limbs trembling, and he knew she was sleeping when there was no reaction to him removing the toy from inside her; it was tossed onto the bed near them, and then he tugged on the duvet behind him to pull it over their bodies and hugged her close with one arm, pressing his nose into her hair to breathe in her comforting scent, the ring on the hand he was holding causing him to pass out while happily thinking about how pretty soon she’d be his wife.
Time passed as they slumbered, minutes turning into hours. They shifted in their sleep and he woke when the warmth of her front pressed along the line of his spine disappeared, the springs in the mattress softly squeaking as she moved to get off it with a whispered, "Sorry." He heard her walk into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.
He threw the blanket off of him and got out of bed, not caring at all that he was naked as his bare feet took him to the kitchen, where he got two large cups of cold water.
When Cielito came back into the bedroom, she found him standing by the bed chugging one of the glasses, and she joined him to drink her own. He finished before her, setting his empty cup on the nearby bedside table and taking some steps to end up behind her, wrapping his arms around her lingerie-covered middle. His lips met the side of her neck, kissing up it to nibble on her ear.
She hummed in appreciation, resting her free hand on one of his arms. She swallowed her drink of water. "Did you have a good time, baby?" she asked.
He spoke softly in her ear, "Yes."
Her fingers slid along his arm.
"Good. Are you up for another round, or do you wanna shower, and we can cuddle on the couch and watch something?"
Truth be told, he was exhausted from how eventful the last four days had been, and he didn't think he had the energy to go again—he was drained, and his dick was starting to ache from using it so much in Miami.
"Shower and couch," he answered, kissing a spot behind her ear. Her hand came up to press her fingers into his hair, and it made him shiver.
"Sounds good. Let me finish my water, and then we can go get clean."
"Thank you for today." He was peppering kisses along her shoulder now.
"You're welcome, babe. I'm happy you enjoyed it."
"I loved it."
"I love you."
"I know. I love you, too—I love you so fucking much."
"Same."
Forty-five minutes later, they were clean and changed—Javier was wearing his grey sweatpants, and his future wife was in a faded, thinned, oversized purple t-shirt and her underwear. She was sitting on the kitchen counter beside him eating a grilled cheese while he made his own sandwich on the stove.
At dinner, he noticed she didn’t eat much, and when he quietly asked if she was feeling okay, she told him she was fine and just not very hungry, which turned out to be a dirty fucking lie with how her stomach loudly grumbled on their way to take a shower. So, the first thing he did after they were dressed was feed her; she tried to fight him that it was his birthday and she should be cooking for him, and he responded by telling her it was his birthday and he wanted to make her something to eat. She agreed to grilled cheese sandwiches, and he had to sit her ass on the counter and tell her not to move in order to keep her from trying to help him.
“This is the best grilled cheese I have ever had in my entire life,” she said around the food in her mouth.
He huffed out a breath, flipping the sandwich in the pan with a black plastic spatula. “You’re only saying that because you’re fucking starving,” he replied.
She swallowed. “Lies—it’s the world’s best. You could win awards for how good this is.” Half of her sandwich was already eaten, and she took another bite.
Javier set the plastic utensil onto the counter on his other side and stepped to have himself standing between her legs. He rubbed his palms up her bare thighs, kissing her forehead. “I’m glad you like the sandwich, Cielito,” he said, looking at her. “Do you want me to make you another?”
She was chewing and shook her head, swallowing. “No, thank you. One is enough.”
“I can cut up some fruit? We got enough today at the grocery store for me to make you a fruit salad?”
Her hand pressed to his cheek, her gaze turning soft, and he leaned into her palm. “I’m okay, Javi,” she said. “This one sandwich is enough.”
He frowned. “You told me you were fine at the restaurant and not very hungry, but that wasn’t true, mi amor. I know it was because of the sex tonight—”
“Birthday sex,” she interrupted. “Birthday sex is special and worth going a little hungry for.”
“I disagree with that…” His sandwich was finished, and he moved back to the stove, sliding it directly from the pan and onto a waiting plate next to the spatula.
“What do you mean you disagree with that?” she asked.
He put the pan on one of the cold back burners and switched off the stove, returning to his spot in front of her. His eyes were on hers, smoothing his hands along her thighs and under her shirt to hold her hips. “I mean that we’re trying to have a baby, and I don’t like the idea of you not eating enough for yourself and our child just so we can fuck.”
“Oh.” Her attention went to her lap.
“In the future, eat as much as you need—do something light if you’re really worried.” He lifted her chin with his finger to look at him. “Can you promise me that, Cielito? Can you do that for me so I won’t worry?”
“Yes.” She nodded.
“Thank you.” He slotted his lips against hers, kissing her tenderly. When they separated, he asked, “Another sandwich or fruit?”
“Fruit, please,” she answered. “Can you do it with Tajín and chamoy like the fruit cart?”
She was talking about the fruit cart on the side of one of the busier streets downtown where you could get freshly cut fruits like mango, jícama, papaya, and watermelon, and they did vasos de frutas (fruit cups) similar to the street vendors in Mexico; cups filled with a variety of cubed fruits and topped with Tajín (a powder made of chile, lime, and salt), and chamoy (a thick sauce made out of pickled fruit like mango, plums, and apricot that was mixed with spicy chiles, and a salty brine—it’s a tasty mixture that was sweet, spicy, salty, and sour).
The combined ingredients created a refreshing snack that perfectly balanced the sweet, tangy, and spicy flavors.
He smiled. “Of course, mi amor.” He gave her a quick peck on the lips before making his way to the fridge to start getting out the fruits.
She hopped off the counter after she finished her sandwich to stand next to him, holding up his grilled cheese for him to take bites of while he chopped the fruit and chatting with him about random things on her mind.
They were sitting on the couch, her legs on his lap, and had just finished their vasos de frutas (fruit cups), which ended up being tazones de frutas (fruit bowls) while they watched the first Jurassic Park movie. His empty bowl was on the coffee table in front of them, his hands busy gliding over her legs and thighs. She leaned forward to set her dish down beside his as Dr. Malcolm discussed the moral implications of the island's scientists only caring about what they could and couldn't do and not if they should. Cielito moved to get up, and his face lifted toward hers.
"Where are you going?" he asked.
Her eyes met his. "First, I'm gonna go put the bowls in the sink." She bent to pick up one in each hand and straightened. "Then I need to go grab something."
"What do you need, and I'll get it?" He started to stand, wanting to help so they could get back to cuddling quicker.
"Nope,” she said, and he stopped. "I'll get it. You just sit there and keep looking pretty." She smiled.
He frowned. "Okay."
She left the room, and he couldn't pay attention to what was on the television, instead listening to her rinsing the bowls out in the kitchen sink, followed by her footsteps as she made her way back through the living room, his head turning to watch her on her journey into the bedroom where she disappeared from view.
He wondered what she needed—maybe she wanted to paint her nails and had to choose a color of nail polish. Or she was going to get the stuff for face masks, which was something he enjoyed; his skin hadn't looked this good since he was in his early twenties.
"I'll be out in a minute, babe," she called from the other room. "I need to check the message on the answering machine."
"Take your time," he replied, hoping she didn't.
The fingers of his right hand were tapping absentmindedly on his knee.
His gaze went up to the clock on the wall, seeing it was a little after eleven, his eyes following the big hand as it ticked away each second.
Tick, tick, tick.
A whole minute passed before she returned to him, his eyebrows pulling together at her frowning face.
"Who called?" he asked.
"My mother."
That explained it.
"What did she want?"
"She said she had some exciting news and needed to talk to me about something important."
"Any idea what either could be...?"
A long, drawn-out sigh left her. "Yeah, most likely it's to tell me my brother's wife is pregnant again—they've been trying for months."
She found out they started trying the night he first told her he loved her. His face relaxed, understanding now that she was upset by the possible news.
He rose from the sofa and went to her in three steps, wrapping her in his arms to hold her close. He kissed her cheek and whispered, "It'll be us telling people the same news soon—they just had a head start. Don't let it get you down, okay? Everything is okay. We're okay. We’re happy, and that’s all that fucking matters."
He felt her relax in his hold.
"You're right—they've had more time."
He pulled back to look at her, smiling softly.
"Yeah, and I'm pretty sure I can knock you up in the same amount of months. Hell, maybe I'll be so fucking good at it that I’ll get you pregnant with twins."
That made her giggle, and her mouth turned up in his favorite smile.
"You're ridiculous," she said. "It's not a competition."
"It is now—we're gonna beat their time."
She playfully rolled her eyes.
"I love you, you goober." She kissed him, and when she broke away, there was a serious look on her face. "Let's stick to one baby for my first pregnancy, please."
"That's not how it works..." he said slowly. "It's a gamble, Cielito."
"Yes, I know that Javier, but let's not put the idea out into the universe."
"Okay—un bebé (one baby). That's all I'll wish for or whatever the fuck."
"Even though I know you're being a lying liar who lies because you'd be beyond happy if there was more than one baby—“ That was true; he’d love getting two babies for the price of one. “—I appreciate the thought. Now, enough about me. You need to open your birthday present."
His face scrunched in confusion. "Didn't I do that when I took off your clothes…?"
"That was only the sexy birthday present. I also got you an actual present."
He was so worried about her that he hadn’t realized she was holding something. She held up a rectangular gift wrapped in solid, bright red wrapping paper.
“You didn’t have to get me anything,” he said. “Today was perfect.”
“Sure, but as I told you when you were undressing me, you’re getting spoiled tonight. Please open this. I’m nervous about it.”
“Why are you nervous?” he asked, taking it from her.
“Because I put a lot of time into it, and I’m pretty sure you’re going to love it, but there’s a chance it’ll make you sad.”
That had him curious. He stepped away and grabbed her hand to lead her to the couch, pulling her down to sit beside him.
It wasn’t too heavy or light, and when he felt it, it was firm. He thought it might be a book. Tearing open the wrapping paper, he discovered it was actually a maroon-colored leather-bound photo album.
He glanced over at her.
“We have our photo album of us we put together. What’s this one?”
He asked the question even though he had an idea of what it could be.
She gave him a reassuring smile. “Open it, and you’ll see.”
He did as he was instructed, and his breath caught in his throat—the first picture was of him as a newborn being held by his mother in a hospital bed. His birth hadn’t been the easiest, and the exhaustion was clear on her face, yet she was grinning. The next photo was in the same spot, but this time, she was gazing at him in her arms with a look that showed she was in love and unbelievably happy. His eyes started watering, turning to the next page to find more pictures of newborn him and his mom now taken at home. All the pages after that featured the same thing: it was always just him and his mom. Some of the photos he’d seen in other albums his father had, there were many, though, that this was the first time he’d come across them.
He lost count of how many were of them in the kitchen, seeing them both age through the years and him doing more to help her as he grew.
There was one where he was maybe three, standing on a dining room chair with his mother beside him as he used a tortilladora (tortilla press) on the table to flatten tortillas, one perfectly done on the plate. His face was turned up toward her with a toothy grin, and she was gazing upon him fondly and clearly proud—it was the first time he had made a tortilla.
He was maybe six in another, using a stool in order to reach the stove with her watching from behind him as he stirred a giant pot he knew had the sauce for her tamales—it was the first time she walked him step by step on how to make them, and it reminded him of something she said that day: “Un día, tu esposa hará esta receta y necesitas poder ayudarla, así que presta atención, Javiercito (One day, your wife will make this recipe and you need to be able to help her, so pay attention, Javier).” And she was right. He had used what she taught him to help his wif-fiancée make her tamales. He even showed Cielito some of the techniques his mother used to make the process easier.
His father had captured a lot of wonderful moments, including one when he had to be about ten with how he’d shot up in height and was almost as tall as his mother—they had matching grins and were mid-dance in the kitchen, her left hand held in his right and their arms around each other’s backs.
So many memories came back to him of times they spent together, and there was even a picture of the last time they made a tres leches cake for his birthday, both laughing about something he couldn’t remember, and it made him smile at how happy they looked.
The final photo was of him in his senior year of college after a swim meet. He’d changed back into his clothes—some jeans and a baby blue button-up shirt, his hair still wet, and a gold medal around his neck. His mother was embracing him from the side, her head barely reaching his shoulders, Javier hugging her back; big smiles were on their faces, and happiness was shining in their matching chocolate-colored eyes as they looked at the camera.
Seeing all of the sweet moments they shared already had him on the verge of tears, and this one broke him, knowing it was his last competition before he met Lorraine—his shoulders shook with sobs as he let himself cry.
The album only contained the memories of before his life went to shit—when he was on track to make his dream of swimming in the Olympics come true, his mother was still alive, he hadn’t hurt his parents with his bad choices, and life was good and still made sense.
“Oh, Javi,” Cielito’s voice was soft, and he welcomed her arms that enveloped him. “I’m so sorry—I worried it’d upset you. I shouldn’t have made this. I’ll take the pictures back to Pop’s.” She reached for the album, and he held it away.
“No,” he said through the tears, his words coming out gravelly. “It’s perfect—I love it.” Closing the book, he set it on the coffee table in front of them before he twisted his body to pull her into his arms, burying his face in her neck. Her hands were rubbing soothingly over his back. “Thank you,” his muffled voice said, tears wetting her skin. “Thank you for making it—it brought back so much happy shit I’d forgotten.”
“You really love the album?” she asked.
He pulled back to look her in the eyes and nodded with a little smile. “Yeah, it really is perfect. You wanna know something?”
“What?”
“I can’t wait to show it to our kids one day.” Her face brightened. “I know you’ll probably cook with them, and they’ll love seeing photos of their abuela (grandma) and papá (dad) doing the same.”
“Oh, I’m absolutely cooking with our kids,” she said, and it had warmth spread through his veins. “Your dad let me go through the boxes, plural, of loose photos he has—side note, I have never seen so many, and I’m pretty sure he’s single-handedly keeping the one-hour photo kiosk in business.”
“Probably,” he chuckled.
Growing up, whenever his father wasn’t working out on the ranch, he was spending time with Javier and his mom, and it was pretty typical for Chucho to get out his camera or video camera to snap pictures or record whatever they were doing—his dad was a sentimental guy. With Javier being his only child, he wanted to ensure they documented as much as possible to look back on fondly.
“Anyways,” she continued. “I went through hundreds, maybe even thousands of photos, and in every single one of you with your mom in the kitchen, you both look so fucking happy, and then add in that some of your favorite memories are cooking with her, and I want that for our babies, too. I want them to have happy memories of learning to cook with their mom and dad.”
His vision was blurring with unshed tears, feeling so unbelievably happy he might combust.
“You want me there, too?”
“Um, yes, Javi. As your mother would say, ‘Eres mi buena suerte (You’re my good luck).’ You gotta be there to at least take a ton of pictures.”
He was smiling. “I’d love that.”
“Good.” She kissed him, just a press of her lips to his, and it wasn’t enough; he deepened it with a swipe of his tongue along her bottom lip, and when she granted him access by opening her mouth a little, he was delving inside to tangle their tongues.
He didn’t know how he got so lucky finding her—she was perfect. Somehow, she made him fall more in love with her with each passing day.
Hearing her say she wanted their children to experience the same happiness he did with his mother had him feeling over the moon and even more excited about them starting their family—she was going to be an incredible mom to their kids, and it filled him with joy knowing, without a doubt, they’ll get to grow up like him with parents who will not only love them more than anything but each other to the point their children will be disgusted by their open affection. Their kids were going to have happy childhoods where they knew they were loved and cherished and got nothing but encouragement for their dreams. It would be drastically different than how Cielito was raised, and that was what she wanted; she couldn’t fathom treating her children the same way her parents treated her. There wouldn’t be one kid who was loved more than another, and they definitely were going to be proud of their babies no matter what. She was breaking a cycle of neglect and impossible standards to ensure their children only knew love and acceptance.
Their breaths were coming out heavier when their mouths detached.
She smiled, the sentence coming out breathy, “Happy birthday, Javi.”
He shared her look. “Thank you for making it amazing—made me almost forget I’m old now.”
She huffed in exasperation. “You turned forty, Javi. You’re not old. If it makes you feel any better, I’m happy to report you’ve still got a bangin’ bod and continue being a sex god.”
“You’re calling me a sex god again?” His eyebrow rose.
“I never stopped calling you a sex god, and let’s look at the facts:” She held up one finger. “Stamina of someone in their twenties.” The next digit went up. “The experience of a forty-year-old that’s spent a lot of time fucking.” Another finger rose. “Makes his partner come every time.” The next digit extended. “Actually knows how to use his mouth and fingers.” The final finger went up. “Has the biggest and prettiest dick known to man—face it, babe, you’re a bonafide sex god; I wouldn’t be surprised if there was a statue of you in some sex temple somewhere.”
His chest had puffed out a little from her praise, and what she said made him snort, Javier, smiling. “What is it with you and statues of me?”
She pushed his bangs off of his forehead. “Um, did you not hear the part where I said you have a bangin’ bod and the biggest and prettiest dick known to man? You’d make a sexy statue—hotter than Prince Eric’s, and that’s saying something.” Both of her hands came up to hold his face as she stared him in the eyes. “What you should get from this is I find you exceptionally attractive and want to have your babies, and I’ll still find you exceptionally attractive and want to have your babies next year, and the year after that and the year after that; you get the picture. Basically, I do not give a single fuck about how old you are because you are aging like the finest wine, sweetcheeks, and I am so unbelievably horny for you.”
From the way she was looking at him, he knew she was telling the truth, and it made him feel some relief. He’d been dreading this day, and he was starting to realize there was no reason to—he was older and wiser, engaged to marry the most amazing woman on the planet, in the process of starting his family, working a job he didn’t hate, and he was back home, where he belonged (even if some of the townspeople thought otherwise). He was happy, truly happy, and yeah, it wasn’t an easy journey, and it took him a while to get to this point, but he made it, and that was all that fucking mattered.
Mondays were the worst.
Mondays after a lovely vacation were the worst of the worst.
Honestly, it should be illegal having to go back to work on a Monday after being away. Unfortunately, it wasn’t, so here you were sitting at the nurse's station desk, a bit past ten in the morning, notating a chart, and nervously waiting for your first break that was in—you glanced at the watch on your wrist—five minutes.
"Still nervous?" Came the Texas twang of your coworker/best friend, Robyn, who pulled out the rolly chair beside you and sat down.
Her long, chestnut curls were pulled back into a ponytail, and she looked ready to model with how perfectly she’d done her makeup; firetruck-red lipstick was coating her full lips, her big blue eyes accentuated with an outline of black mascara and eyeliner, her cheeks rosy, and face blemish free without being caked in foundation and concealer—she could be on the cover of the American Journal of Nursing magazine with her being in her blue scrubs.
Your head turned her way, frowning. "Yes, because I know, in my bones, it's not gonna go well."
She gave you a reassuring smile and put her hand on your arm. "And that's why you're doin’ it on your fifteen-minute break. It gives you a time limit, and havin’ to get back to work is a great excuse to end things."
You weren't convinced. "I guess..."
"I'm sorry, girl, but this is somethin’ you have to do and it'll be better to just rip off the bandaid."
"Maybe I'd prefer to keep the bandaid on and continue living in my perfect little bubble with the love of my life."
"Because the bubble is goin’ to burst one way or another, and at least this way, you're in control."
"I really don't want to do this…" you said truthfully. It had you feeling a little sick.
"I know, girl." She patted your forearm. "I can't promise it'll go well, but just remember you've got Javi and me for support, and you know as well as I do that man will up and leave work without a word to come here for you."
"That's true. He, uh, doesn't know..."
The other woman's eyebrows dipped. "Why didn't you tell him?"
"It's Javi—he'd worry too much and wouldn't be able to work. Now that we're doing this whole baby thing and getting married soon, it's like his caveman instincts have turned up to the max, and he's in protection mode 24/7. So, he's not going to find out about what's going on until after it happens."
"If you think that's best." Her eyes went to her wristwatch. "Looks like it's time." She met your gaze. "Go do it in the on-call room so you'll have some privacy."
You took a deep breath, ignoring the fluttering nerves in your belly. "Okay," you said as you pushed back in your chair to get up. "If I'm not back in fifteen minutes, you better come to get me."
She smiled. "That was the plan."
"You're the best."
The closest on-call room wasn't anything more than a small windowless room with a twin-size bed and a desk with a lamp and telephone atop it. The overhead light was on, and you'd locked the door upon entering, taking a seat at the desk. Picking up the phone's receiver, you pressed it to your ear, your other hand punching in the string of numbers from muscle memory, and hardly any thought.
Ring.
Ring.
"Hello?" the familiar voice answered.
This was it. "Hi, Mom, it's me."
"Oh, good, you got my message. I was expecting your call yesterday."
"Sorry, it was Javi's birthday, and we went out to dinner to celebrate."
Her voice went tight. "I see... Remind me again how old he turned?"
"Forty."
"Forty years old, and he doesn't own a house or have a career? When your father turned forty, he was already the chief of surgery and had invented a procedure, but I guess they're two different men from two different backgrounds."
Your jaw clenched. "I don't appreciate you belittling the man I love, who had a very successful career in the DEA and helped take down Pablo fucking Escobar and the Cali Cartel before he was forty—but please, go on about his ‘lack of career,’ and how he doesn’t measure up to Dad in your eyes; I’d be more than happy to end this call right now.”
The older woman sighed. “I’m just looking out for your best interests, but since it’s a sore subject, I won’t talk about him at all.”
The ‘best interests’ excuse made you roll your eyes so hard they were at risk of getting stuck in the back of your head.
"Fine—what's the exciting news you have?"
"Oh, yes," her tone shifted, hearing her excitement. "Your brother is having another baby, and it's a boy!" You fucking knew that was why she called, and you didn’t have it in you to be excited, not when the same news from you would have a vastly different reaction. "Your father and I are so excited to have another grandson," she continued. "I can't believe how blessed we are to have three grandchildren, a fourth on the way, and they’re all boys!"
"God forbid they had a girl," you mumbled.
"What was that?"
"I said, wow, that's great," you spoke normally. "Well, give them my congratulations, and if that was all you wanted to tell me, I'm going to get back to work—I'm on break."
Yes, you were chickening out on telling her about your engagement.
"That isn't the only exciting news!"
"Yay, there's more," you deadpanned.
“If your father was home, he could give you more information, but his hospital is going through some staffing changes, and he got you a job to be the director of nursing—you can finally move back home!"
Um, what?
He got you a job you never even asked for or wanted?
The audacity of them doing this behind your back in an attempt to lure you home had stunned you into silence, anger threading through your chest and tummy.
"Are you still there?" she asked.
"I don't want a new job," you said calmly.
"You don't know what you're saying, sweetie. This would make you the head of the nursing program at his hospital and is much better than whatever it is you’re currently doing. You’d make substantially more than what you are right now, and it brings you closer to us, your family—it’s about time you come home, anyway. You’ve been away long enough and haven’t been making the best decisions.”
Tears were burning in your eyes at the blatant disregard for your feelings.
"I'm not leaving Laredo."
She sighed again. "What does that backwater town have to offer you? That hospital you're working for can't compete with what your father’s hospital is willing to pay, and there isn’t anything there worth staying for or tying you down—thank god you've been smart and haven't done anything stupid like get pregnant."
She managed to insult Javi and the life you built without outright saying the words, and it pissed you off how fucking rude she was in regards to your future husband—she could say whatever she wanted about you and the way you were living, but you wouldn’t stand for such vitriol toward your fiancé.
"I'm getting married,” you blurted.
Her line went completely silent, and you thought she might’ve hung up until she said, “I’m sorry. I think I misheard you. What did you say?”
“Javi proposed—we’re getting married, and that isn’t the only exciting news; we’ve started trying for a baby.” Informing people that you were getting fucked raw and filled like a Boston cream donut on the regular made you wish the earth would completely swallow you up so you didn’t have to feel such embarrassment; it being socially acceptable to openly discuss your sex life when it had to do with procreation would never make any sense to you.
“I know Javier doesn’t meet your standards,” you continued, “however, he more than meets mine, and I wish you could see how incredible he is and how happy he makes me, but the only things you care about is the amount of money in his bank account and career choice; which, again, people all over are aware of who The Javier Peña is because of the work he did with the DEA. He was a hot commodity when he returned to the States, and agencies all over the country were trying to bag him.
“Just because he’s not in the same tax bracket as you,” you kept speaking, “and he can’t buy me a big mansion we don’t even need, doesn’t make him any less of a person. Honestly, he’s better than you—he’s better than you. He’s better than Dad, and he’s definitely better than that golden child you worship, who couldn’t even make it into his Ivy League school without you buying his way in. Javi got a full-ride scholarship to his dream university because of how talented he was at swimming,” you said proudly.
“My fiancé is an amazing man who treats me like a queen and will be the best father to our children. Now, let’s circle back to your question about what Laredo has to offer me—the answer is everything. Laredo has everything I could ever need or want. The man I’m marrying and the future father of my kids is here. I have a family here—a real family that loves me. I have friends and a great job here. This is the place where I’ll raise my children and grow old with my soulmate. This is my home and where I’ve always belonged. So, thank you, but no, thank you for such an amazing job offer I didn’t ask for. I’m not leaving Laredo—you’re just gonna have to get used to the fact that Javier and I are a package deal and that he’ll be your son-in-law one day and the father of your grandchildren. If you can’t stomach that, then don’t ever call me again because Javi means more to me than anyone else in the entire universe.”
Silence.
Many seconds passed before she spoke.
“You’re sure he’s the one…?” she asked slowly.
“Yes, one hundred percent.”
“You don’t care about how much money he has because he makes you… happy…?”
She made it sound like a foreign concept, and you huffed in amusement.
“I know, it’s crazy to fall in love with someone for them and not their money.”
“This is what I get for allowing you to watch those cartoon fairytale movies when you were a child. Your ideas of what’s important in life have been skewed by fictional nonsense, and you failed to notice at the end of those films, the girls become princesses—rich—when they meet their princes and finally get their—what was it?—happily… happily…” She was struggling.
“Their happily ever afters?” you said.
“Yes, that’s it! They only got their happily ever afters once they became princesses, and you should strive to want that kind of status or meet a man who will give it to you.”
“Weird take, but to me, they get their happily ever afters when they meet their one true loves, and the fancy titles are just bonuses.” You shrugged even though she couldn’t see you.
She let out a sigh. “You need to understand that real life isn’t like those whimsical cartoons. You might think you’re in love right now, but you haven’t even known this man for a year. How do you know if you will feel this way about him a year from now? Or two years? There’s no guarantee that your relationship will last, and you’re throwing away a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to advance your career and make a name for yourself because you’re infatuated and living in some dream world.”
“I am in love, and it’s the real thing. What you’re not understanding is my career is secondary to my happiness. I care more about being happy than making money, and I’ve made my choice that I’m going to marry Javi because he makes me happy—get it through your head that he isn’t going anywhere.”
“Very well, if that’s your decision, then so be it.”
“Thank you.”
“Can you answer a question about Javier?”
“Uh, depends on what you’re going to ask...”
“He helped take down Pablo Escobar and that other cartel, which wouldn’t have been small feats. I’m assuming a lot of opportunities would’ve opened up to him within his agency, and he was probably on track for promotions. Why did he quit when he was at the height of his career?”
You smiled. “Because he decided his career was secondary to his happiness, and he cared more about being happy than advancing in a job he’d grown to hate.”
“Oh.”
“You know, he only went to work for the Sheriff here, so I wasn’t the sole provider in our relationship—he makes decent money, too, and tries to pay more than his fair share. He took the job to be able to take care of me, and if I couldn’t work, we’d be more than okay on just his salary.”
“Really?” She didn’t attempt to hide her surprise.
“Yes—someone with Javi’s expertise is paid handsomely to consult. He’s gotten a ton of offers to do paid talks at universities and conferences. He’s actually kind of a big deal in that community.” It was lovely getting to brag about him.
“Why haven’t you told me this before?”
“Because from the moment you found out I was dating him, you were convinced he wasn’t good enough for me, and it seemed like nothing I could say would change your mind.”
“I guess I might have rushed to conclusions…”
“You did.”
“Well, congratulations, honey,” She sounded genuinely happy, not as jazzed as the imminent arrival of another grandson, but happy enough it had you taken aback. “This is exciting! I hadn’t realized things had gotten so serious between you two. Have you picked out a date for the wedding?”
To say you felt thrown off kilter from the complete one-eighty she just made on her views of your relationship would be putting it mildly; you thought there was a chance you were in the Twilight Zone with how bizarre this reaction was.
Did you actually convince her of Javi’s worthiness?
That didn’t seem right…
“Um, no?” you answered.
“I’ll call the wedding planner who helped plan your brother’s, and don’t worry about the cost, we’ll take care of it, along with the wedding itself—we’ll have to look at venues in your town that can hold at least, I think, one hundred and fifty guests, maybe? I’ll also have Jerry—” The family lawyer. “—get a prenup together—I’ll bring him with me.” Uh, what was happening? “Let me look at the calendar.” Pages flipping could be heard over the phone, and you knew she was going through her daily planner. “Your father and I have prior engagements over the next month and a half, but I could visit in February with the wedding planner and Jerry to get started on everything.”
The thought of her visiting had you feeling sick to your stomach, the anxiety hitting you like a bucket of cold water over your head.
“Woah, woah, hold on a second,” you said. “We’re not having a big wedding, so there’s no need for a wedding planner. We’re not doing a prenup, either, so Jerry doesn’t need to be bothered, and we want to get married sometime next month.”
“I won’t sour our conversation with legal talk, so I’ll discuss it with you later—you want to get married that soon?” There was a frown in her voice. "I told you we’re booked next month... We wouldn’t be able to make it…”
“We’re not doing much of a traditional wedding anyway, so you won’t miss much. We can send you a copy of the video—” Javi was planning on buying a camcorder to record your nuptials and other erotic things. “—and maybe in February we could visit you.” That was something you didn’t particularly want to do, but her change in attitude and desire to help seemed like she was extending an olive branch for all of the hurtful things she had said about your future husband.
“That would be fine. We’re dying to meet this man you’re in love with.”
Your eyes narrowed. “The one you didn’t approve of five minutes ago…?”
“You gave me a lot to think about in those five minutes, and I’m doing as you said and accepting that he’s going to be my son-in-law. Am I not allowed to change my opinion of someone?”
“Sure, you can change your opinion. You’re really okay with me marrying him?”
“Yes, sweetie.”
A knock sounded on the on-call room’s door, Robyn’s voice coming from the other side, “Hey, I need you out here.”
“I’m sorry, Mom, but my break’s over, and I need to get back. I’ll talk to you later.”
“No problem. Have a great day, and tell Javier hi from me.”
That will freak him out.
You said your goodbyes and hung up the phone, getting up to walk over and open the door.
Robyn was standing there. “How’d it go?” she asked.
“That’s the thing, Robyn, I think it went well, and I’m so fucking confused—I think my mom might even like Javi a little bit now.”
Shock appeared on her face. “Um, what…?”
“Makes zero sense, right?”
“Yeah… You need to call Javi?”
She was the best.
“Would you mind?”
“Nope! I’ll hold down the fort.”
“Thank you!”
This time, when you sat down to use the hospital-provided telephone, you dialed your fiancé’s desk phone from memory.
Ring.
“Peña,” he answered.
“Has hell frozen over?” you asked.
“Cielito?” He was clearly confused.
“Yes, it’s me—let’s focus. Has hell frozen over?”
“Uh, I don’t think so?”
“Are pigs flying?” You heard him roll back in his chair and the rustle of him looking through his office window’s blinds.
“I don’t see any pigs with wings, but that Sheriff’s deputy whose wife won’t let him have red meat so he can lower his cholesterol is in his car eating a burger with the same enthusiasm I have when I eat your pussy.”
“Guy is truly eating it like a man starved—respect. ¿Están volando las vacas (Are the cows flying)?”
“No veo a Daphne ni a Velma en el cielo (I don’t see Daphne or Velma in the sky).” He rolled back to his desk. “¿Qué pasa, mi amor (What’s going on, my love)?”
“I talked to my mom…”
“…are you okay?”
“Um, sure.”
“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
He was starting to hang up the phone, and you quickly said, “Javi, no, no! Don’t leave!”
“Are you sure?” he asked. “It wouldn’t be a problem.”
“It’s really okay—I’m gonna see you at lunch.”
The plan was to eat the lunches you made together in his truck.
“Okay.” His tone went serious. “Tell me what happened.”
“I called her like she asked, and she confirmed my sister-in-law is with child and talk about the excitement over a fetus having male genitals.”
“Of course, they’re fucking excited it’s a boy, the misogynistic assholes,” he seethed.
“I am so unbelievably in love with you—I know you’d love having a baby girl and getting to dress her up in pretty dresses.”
“God, yeah.” You didn’t have to see his face to know he was smiling. “And giving her cute hairdos and I could paint her nails to match her dresses—wait, we’re getting distracted. Did the news upset you? I really feel like I should come down there...”
“I promise I’m fine, babe.”
“I don’t like that I’m not there for you in person…” He sighed. “Was that all your mother wanted to talk to you about?”
“This next part is really gonna piss you off, so please take a big breath for me, my love.”
You heard him inhale deeply.
“Tell me,” he ordered.
“My parents, or father specifically, offered me a job that a person would be insane to turn down to get me to move back home—I didn’t even contemplate for a second about taking it and proceeded to inform her about us getting married and starting our family, then went off about how amazing you are and that this is my home and I wouldn’t be leaving it. I made it very clear that you are the most important person to me, and if they couldn’t accept you as my husband, then I wanted nothing to do with them.”
“…If you want the job, we can move there,” he said carefully.
You smiled. “That’s sweet of you to offer, but I can’t fathom moving away from our family here, especially your dad. This is our home, and I’m happy with the life we have. So, I don’t care about some fancy schmancy job.”
“Promise?”
“Pinky promise.”
He let out a relieved sigh before he started speaking again, his words soaked in anger, “They hate me so fucking much they tried to give you an offer you couldn’t refuse, so you’d leave me? Are you fucking kidding me? I’m sorry, baby, but I can’t fucking stand these people you share blood with—they don’t even fucking deserve to be called your family with how they disrespect you and don’t give a flying fuck about your happiness.” He had to take another big breath to try to calm his rage. “I might sound like an asshole, but I don’t want them around our kids, and this isn’t me putting my foot down or saying that’s how it has to be; I’m saying that our children’s well-being is my first priority, and these assholes are nothing but poison,” he spat. “I’ll support you if you decide to cut ties with them—hell, I’d love it since it makes me so fucking angry how they’ve treated you and continue to treat you. We’ve got our family here, anyway; Pop and all our tías, tíos, and primos, so you don’t even need those fuckers.” His tone shifted to something softer, hearing in it how much he cared for you. “Cielito, mi amor, all I want is for you to be happy and to feel loved, and I will do everything in my power to make that happen—please, for me, when you decide what to do, you choose what makes you happiest; not what would make me happy and definitely don’t even think about their feelings because they’ve never done the same for you. I’ll stand by you no matter what.”
What he said had your eyes getting misty. “I love you.”
“I love you, too. More than anything.”
And you knew that was the truth.
“I didn’t tell you the whole story,” you said, “and this is where I get confused about the entire interaction.”
“What happened…?”
“So, I kinda bragged about how much of a hot shot you are in the drug enforcement community and that you make decent money, and I think I somehow made my mom like you? I know it sounds fake, but Javi, she wanted to hire us a wedding planner and pay for the whole event that she was going to invite a hundred and fifty people to…”
You left out the lawyer bit because you were going to nip that in the bud when she got around to talking to you about it.
“Uh, what…?”
“It was fucking weird, babe! She even told me to tell you hi when we were getting off the phone!”
“Me? Are you sure…?”
“Yeah! It makes zero fucking sense. Our conversation started with her basically telling me my life decisions were trash and that there’s nothing in Laredo worth staying for—she actually said she was happy I hadn’t accidentally gotten pregnant. Like, that’s so fucking rude. Then her tone had completely changed by the end of the call, and she was pro-you and pro-us getting married.”
“Interesting…” You could picture him sitting at his desk, absentmindedly rubbing his thumb over his bottom lip while we pieced together the information you’d given him and analyzed it for any indication of more going on.
“Are your Detective Peña senses tingling?” you asked. “Do you think they’re up to something?”
“I’m not sure… But I could just be paranoid about people trying to fuck with our relationship.”
“Oh god, what if we are being paranoid and overthinking this entire thing? We might be looking a gift horse in the mouth, and my family really has warmed up to you.”
He scoffed, “Tal vez cuando las vacas vuelen (Maybe when cows fly),” he muttered. “It seems too good to be true,” he said. “But, there’s a chance hell did freeze over, and Daphne and Velma grew wings.” He sighed. “My hopes aren’t very high, though; at this point, all we can do is see what happens.” He suddenly sounded panicked, “Cariño, ¿los invitaste a nuestra boda (Honey, did you invite them to our wedding)? ¿Tendré que conocerlos en persona (Will I have to meet them in person)?”
Javier Peña had a cute face, a cute face that naturally looked pissed off when it was resting and showed everything he was feeling. There was no doubt that in the presence of your family, his glares would be murderous, and he wouldn’t be able to hide his anger—which, honestly, delighted you. But you hated the idea of them coming to the place you called home and was your haven away from them, so you were never going to invite them to visit; if you had to, you’d go to them.
“Cálmate, mi amor (Calm down, my love),” you said. “No te preocupes (Don’t worry). I didn’t invite them, and I don’t even want them coming here. I did have to say we might visit them in a couple of months to keep them happy—I’m also gonna send my parents that blender my mother wants but refuses to buy because the one they have still works for Christmas. Hopefully, all that will tide them over for a while so we can figure out if their new attitude is legit or not.”
“Good idea.”
“Well, I better get back to work. I’ll see you at lunch.”
“Yes, you will. If you need me to get your mind off all this shit, just let me know. It’d take us about the same amount of time to meet at home…”
His offer made you smile. “Javier, is this your way of saying you’d like a nooner?”
“Maybe… I’m on edge and need to calm my nerves, and the best ways to do that is either having a cigarette or fucking—I’m sure you can guess my preference, but it wouldn’t be a big deal if I bummed a smoke off someone.”
“You’re in need of a medicinal cream pie,” you said in understanding, nodding your head. “I am also on edge and could use a medicinal orgasm or two. I’ll see you at the apartment, handsome, and the suit stays on—I’m riding Detective Peña into the sunset.”
You could hear his smile when he spoke. “Is that so?”
“Yep—you’ve been staring at my tits a lot lately, and I thought you’d enjoy them bouncing in your face.”
His groan confirmed your suspicion. “Minimum of two orgasms, keep the suit on, and you’re riding me on the couch—anything I’m missing?”
“Yeah, you coming inside me so I can go back to work all nice and stuffed.”
“Marry me.”
“I am,” you giggled. “We need to figure out a date.”
“January 11. Under the big oak tree on Pop’s land at sunset—that’s when we should do it.”
“Why the eleventh?” you asked, curious about why that date specifically.
“You agreed to be my girlfriend on the eleventh. You agreed to be my fiancée on the eleventh. It only seems right that I vow to love you forever on the eleventh of the New Year and hope you agree to be my wife then—Cielito, mi amor, mi vida mi media naranja, mi todo, (Cielito, my love, my life, my soulmate, my everything), will you marry me in twenty-eight days on January 11?”
Tears brimmed your eyes. “Yes, Javi! Absolutely, yes—it’s perfect.”
“Not as perfect as you,” he smoothly replied.
“You’re a sap.”
“—and your perfect tits.”
“A horny sap,” you laughed.
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#pedro pascal#javier peña#Javier Peña/reader#javier peña x reader#javier peña x you#javier peña smut#wheresarizona writes#learning to live series
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mini skirt
javíer peña x reader
ೀ ive been so focused on my series i missed writing for our man osrs !!
ೀ its spring break n with amount of parties ive got to attend, my ass will b going to write a fic duh!
ೀ description: porn with no plot literally, SMUT SMUT, this shit lowk filthy, reader is bent over the passenger seat 😶, public sex!, parked (?) car sex, oral sex (r receiving) exhibitionism, dom!javíer, mean!javíer, possesive af!javí, sub!reader, reader speaks slight spanish, reader is thristy for javi, JAVÍ TALKS YOU THRU IT/IN SPANISH 2 (😩🤧), lowk degradation in spanish aswell, multiple orgasms, slight overstim (r receiving), degradation ( r receiving), eating out from the back, spanking, doggystyle, hair pulling ( r receiving), choking ( r receiving), unprotected p in v sex, creampie, no use of y/n, use of pet names (pequeña, neña, bebésita, amor/amorsita)
spanish key words for all my non-spanish speakers !
-pequeña/neña: term of endearment for someone smaller than/my girl, babygirl
-princesa/bebésita: my baby/princess
-dime/porque: tell me/why
- tan’ mojada/tan linda: so wet/ your so wet/such a sweet/so sweet
-lo que quieres/dios mio: my god/oh my god/what you want
-belleza/sucia: beauty/dirty/filthy
-amas/amor/(sita): you love/love/lover
-como te pongo/volverá pasar: how i get you/ever happen again/happened again
-eso/lo que pasará : a way of affirming or agreeing/what will happen again
in traditional way of celebrating the spring break, how else than going out with your girls to the club?
the winter was finally over as women traded their big coats and long-sleeves for skimpy tops and short skirts or shorts.
your beloved boyfriend knew you would be going out tonight, letting him know before he left for his federal attendees.
Javíer didn’t say much except to text him once you left the house, arrived at the party, and when to come pick you up.
Javí was a sweet, a gentle giant.
but he was also stern, it was a trait he had to deal with being apart of the job. it was in his nature to be overprotective.
his eyes told you something completely different along with his stance although he didn’t once tell you a negative thing for wanting to go out and have fun.
he had his hands on his hips, popping one out as his eyebrows tensed together and his tongue poked through his cheek. Javí’s eyes were mean and deep as he stared at you while you promised him to let him know the second anything were to happen before he got ready for work.
you were all dressed up by 9:00 pm as you now, waited on your friends to pick you up at any moment now.
you were wearing a green tube top, pairing it with a pink plaid mini skirt. you chose a cute silver chain belt as an accessory to go along with your silver blinged earrings.
your makeup was set onto your skin perfectly, bringing out the best features of your beauty. your hair was styled to your liking and you chose these cute bubblegum pink pumps to piece your outfit all together.
you picked up your phone, having a small photoshoot of your own before choosing the picture you thought was best and sending it to Javìer.
you were sat infront of the mirror, pulling a cute pose while trying to get you whole outfit in frame.
not even 3 minutes later, a ping rings through your phone.
⤷ que belleza neña go have ur fun for now
⤷ cus ur not gonna like it when i pick u up
your heart raced with lustful anticipation and excitement. you continued to tease him through message, sending another picture to him that showed how risque your pink mini-skirt was.
⤷ u are so done for pequeña
he wasn’t even here, yet you could feel his menacing presence and hear his strict tone in your head.
soon enough, you were getting a call from your friends; letting you know they were outside.
✧○ꊞ○ꊞ○ꊞ○ꊞ○✧ ✧○ꊞ○ꊞ○ꊞ○ꊞ○✧
you and your bestfriend danced along to the house music that played through the huge booming speakers of the wide-spaced club that was only illuminated by a combination of different color fading lights.
you had a few drinks already, loosing track of how long you’ve been dancing for before stepping away with your friends. you went back to your the corner couch you were seated at along with your friends.
you felt hazed out and tipsy as you uncapped your water bottle before taking a sip.
all your tipsy self could think about was Javí, it was 1 AM and you knew he was awake and on stand-by for you.
your vision was blurry because of the alcohol as you open his contact, dialing him on the phone. you hear the phone ring momentarily before connecting.
“everything good, princesa?”
“mmhmm, i misss you javí” you slurred out.
“how drunk are you, neña?” his tone was caring, making your overwhelmed tipsy body run a cold shiver through your spine.
“s’only tipsyy—amor?” you respond before calling out to him, more like whining out to him.
“dime pequeña” the way his voice sounded so caring, yet stern, made your body quiver and breath hitch.
the alcohol was definitely assisting your mind in fogging it with only one thought; Javíer.
“come pick me up—s’wanna go home to youu” you plead with a slight moan, the alcohol was definitely getting the best of you.
“i’ll be there in 15 minutes, get ready.”
✧○ꊞ○ꊞ○ꊞ○ꊞ○✧ ✧○ꊞ○ꊞ○ꊞ○ꊞ○✧
Javí was not an idiot, he could hear the neediness in your tone.
after being together for 5 years, Javí always knew the second his poor girl had one too many drinks and wanted to run home to her man.
which is how you always ended up with you stuffed so full of Javíer’s thick cock after a night out.
Javíer practically sped through the semi-empty midnight streets, definitely not driving the speed limit.
soon enough he was outside the club venue, sending you a message that he was outside. Javíer couldn’t find close parking, so he parked the car farther down the empty street.
you were inside, hugging your friend's goodbye, grabbing your purse before they walked you to the front of the club door.
you opened the door and there he was, the man you had been longing for the whole night. he was standing there under the streetlight with a lit cigarette in his mouth.
he had his light blue button up hugging his chest and muscular arms as it was tucked into his jeans, his belt holding his pants perfectly.
you took him in as you step towards him as he puffed on his cigarette while his eyes traveled down your body.
Javíer took in the way your tits were accentuated through your small green top, your skirt stopped just at your upper thigh as your entire legs were on display, and your pumps gave you a taller stance than your natural one.
you still were not enough to compare to his tall and built frame.
Javí steps closer once you were just a foot away from him, your face meeting his broad chest “real dolled up, huh?” he mutters under his breath, lifting two fingers to grasp your chin; making you look up at him.
you felt your voice caught in your throat as you felt your heat begin to pool into your panties. the breeze from the cold night air, lifting the blimps of your skin.
“c’mon pequeña, i parked the car a little down” Javí instinctively wraps his arm around your lower waist, his hand ghosting over your ass.
you didn’t realize how he was sizing up your skirt with his hand, seeing how close he was to that pretty pussy over your little skirt.
you both made your way down the dark street; the night sky being illuminated by the full moon that was bleeding bright tonight as you both walked past dim streetlights.
you pass a couple empty parked cars; the streets empty with no one in view.
you walked down with Javíer having a tight grasp on your waist made your mind run wild in a pure lustful frenzy.
you see Javí’s truck come into view, recognizing the big black vehicle from a few feet away.
“so did you have fun, princesa?” he begins to ask you about your night as the arm that was wrapped around you loosens. he took your purse from your arm before proceeding to unlock the door.
“was’good babyy, i danced a good bit with my friends after i finished my two drinkss” you slightly slurred out as your vision regained its focus but feeling the buzz still tingle up your body.
he opened the passenger door for you as he set your purse down inside the car.
all you heard from Javí was an almost inaudible hum from his lips as you go to step into the passenger seat…. or at least you tried.
Javíer immediately made your body fumble over into the passenger seat, bending over with one knee on the seat and your other foot down onto the pedestal below his truck, holding your balance.
“Ja-Javí?” you were slightly taken aback by the way he grabbed you, but you weren’t complaining as him manhandling you completely had your panties glued to your slit by your own arousal.
“i bet all the men in there enjoyed the little show you gave them” his tone was husky and cold as you felt his back against yours as his thick cool buckle brushed against the back of your exposed thighs.
“I-no—I wasn’t” you began to whine out, your ass squirming a little and bumping up against his belt buckle more.
“hm neña? I couldn’t hear you.” you felt his cold hands flip your skirt up, fondling and gripping the flesh as more midnight breeze pushed against your skin.
you were facing forward, only seeing the complete inside of his car and empty driver seat.
but you could completely feel Javíer behind you.
you looked back at him causing your body to arch down a bit more, completely exposing your seeped through panties. you’ve never felt so exposed before.
here you were, bent over Javí’s truck with your ass completely exposed for public display as the car door wasn’t shut at all.
the only coverage being the open car-door from the side; creating a makeshift shield from one angle as the other had a perfect view for anyone to see the way Javíer was going to fuck you.
“tan’ mojada pequeña, porque?”
you felt his hands run up and down your clothed slit, pushing the wet fabric against your pussy causing a temporary bubbly friction as you felt the pressure of his two fingers.
you let out a pathetic whimper as you lean yourself more forward, trying your hardest to focus on your balance.
“fuckin’ answer me when I'm talking to you!”
he ordered, his tone was harsh and guttural causing a chill to run up your body which was immediately followed by a jump as Javíer’s hand landed a dour smack onto the exposed flesh of your ass.
“you! s’all because of you!” you yelp out as you wiggle your ass excitingly.
“oh so, my slut does know how to speak” he mocked out, his tone pitying you.
“m’sorry Javí—no volverá pasar!” your voice velveted out as you pleaded, your legs quivering with each blow of nature’s breeze.
“mí neña tan linda, always wanting to go out in such slutty outfits.” he cooed out, his hands finding the slim lining of your underwear right under your skirt.
you felt so small and filthy like this, your body subconsciously growing timid under the oozing pleasure he was igniting inside you and out of you, right here at the corner of an empty street, in a parked car.
he pulled down your panties, watching through the natural gloomed out lighting how your panties sticked to your pussy with your juices leaking down you.
“look at that pretty pussy” he coos lewdly, causing you to whine out as takes his middle and ring finger to circle around your soaked pussyhole.
“been needing you, Javí baby” you began to babble as he made you grow more antsy in bliss.
“only you! need you—please-oh fuck!” your babbles were interrupted by your own shriek as you felt a warm wet feeling take over the one cold and exposed feeling of your pussy.
Javíer began to fuck you with his tongue, wasting no time in attaching his lips to your dripping pussy; how could he? when it was crying for him.
you tried to keep your balance by gripping onto the headrest of the passenger seat as you felt his tongue run a long swipe along your juiced folds “oh fuck Javí!” you were too fucking horny to care about your loud moans possibly ringing through the silent street-night.
not for a single second did Javí pull away from your pussy, giving her all his attention.
Javíer sucked on your clit, rolling his tongue around it and your slits as the only words that fell from your lips was his name.
“oh my—Javí! oh my fuck!” you couldn’t help but croak out your moans at the immense pleasure you were feeling.
the way he had you was bringing you pure rapture at the taboo thought of someone possibly watching you two in the midnight.
you could feel your stomach erupt as your orgasm bubbled through the delicious open-mouthed licks coming from his beautiful tongue.
you felt the small hairs of his mustache friction against your clit causing your ass to push back into his face more while you cried out in ecstasy. you felt yourself grow closer to your climax.
Javíer kept up with the volume of your moans and pathetic whines.
his pace never halting as his hands went to grip your hips to keep your ass bent over and pussy exposed as he eats you out like he hasn’t fucking eaten in decades.
you felt your orgasm begin to build up, you were sure your nails were digging into the plush of the passenger seat material, creating crescents into the fabric.
your eyes rolled back as your mouth fell agape in vicious delight. you felt your orgasm flow through your body as he licked each trickling bead from your leaking pussy.
you felt satisfaction warp through your body as you look back at Javí.
you could barely see him as the moon shined right behind his head like a make-shift crown, for the only man; only man you allowed to ever take you like this, like a whore.
Javíer had been palming his painful hard-on through his now, unzipped jeans; only the crotch of his boxers for display through his unbuckled belt.
you began to wriggle your ass even more, slightly backing it to brush up against his clothed cock. you felt the cool metal buckle against your flesh again, colliding with the feeling of another indecent smack to your plushy ass.
you were still looking back at him as you let out euphoric sob through fucked out eyes.
“dime lo que quieres, mi amor”
Javíer husked out, licking his lips before massaging the tingling flesh of your ass. his voice returned to a low octave, still carrying a stern, but no longer harsh demeanor.
“i need you to fuck me Javí!”
that was all he needed to hear to have him slipping his boxers low enough to pull out his thick erection, standing flavorful and tall.
Javíer pumped himself softly before aligning himself with your glistening entrance.
Javí squeezed your hips softly, bringing you closer to him as he sinks his cock into your gushy pussy.
the second you feel his cock glide into with ease like always, your pussy always managing to snug him perfectly into you as the stretch convulsed your pussy.
“y’always feel like fuckin’ heaven, bebésita” Javíer hissed out as the feeling of your balmy and pulsing pussy, taking him like you were made for him only.
“feels—feels so good amor! s’big!” you mewled out, your voice being fervent.
Javíer became the only thing you felt, engulfing your pussy and whole-being.
you felt him begin to slide in’n’out of you at a feverishly slow pace, making you feel every inch that smoothly drowned into each crevess of your insides.
just the feeling of Javí’s big thick cock had your breath caught in your chest, completely mind-bending as his soft slides turn into piquant thrusts in no time.
“mphm—díos mìo!” you cried out lecherously, you felt Javíer’s hand make its way up your semi-clothed back till it was entangled in your hair.
he doesn’t hesitate to pull on it, pulling your body up along the way and arching the position you were in more. you were sure your nails cut into the fabric of Javíer’s little truck.
Javíer’s savoring slow pace turned into pummeling thrusts. you could feel each bounce of your ass bounce off his hips as his hand tugged on your hair, inflaming a riveting pain in you.
his pace electrified with each little sob of his name that left your mouth, you could barely even speak as you tried to swallow back the drool that threaten to drip down the corner of your fucked out mouth.
“who’s slut are you, hm?” once again, his jarring tone and vulgarity came out.
“¡solo para ti! siempre para ti!” you chant , repeating it once more at another smack he landed on the now, strawberry flesh off your ass.
“eso bebèsita, all those men can look but, they can’t touch—isn’t that, right?” his question grunts out as his cock rams into you at a relishing speed.
your head was being tugged back as your body recoiled with every vigorous thrust from his snapping hips. your neck began to ache as you struggle to keep looking at him as his hand gripped your hair; unknowing if he can even see you but oh, he definitely can.
your eyes were squeezed shut as your mouth was completely agape, feeling wicked with the cock-dumb haze he put you in.
your body shook as Javíer completely ravished you.
“Javí—yes! fuck ya—” your pussy clenched around him with your fucked out babble.
“amás como te pongo, eh? letting me fuck you right’ere where anyone can see—que suciá.”
“for you—only—fuck—you!” your moans got more strangled out with each worship that left your mouth, his cock completely taking over your membrane; filling your pussy and mind with each hankering momentum.
his cock continued to plunge into you mercilessly, the sound of your each other’s skin slamming against each other with the small deep creaks coming from the moving truck.
Javíer was taking you viciously and relentlessly, his hand let go of the tug he had on your hair before finding its way around your neck, squeezing ever-so slightly.
all he wishes was to be able to be there with you, every single time you go out, but his job took so much time away from his personal life; it infuriated him, especially today when he seen those little pictures you sent him.
it wasn’t that he didn’t trust you, he knew how much you loved him, but it was the people.
he wishes he could keep you like his gun, tucked away and only accessible to him.
you felt his cock pistol into you at a deeper angle, feeling his tip flutter against your cervix causing your tummy to swell in rapture. you weren’t even sure if you were still breathing at this point, only rigid cries and moans leaving your lips.
“please javí! please! s’much—too much!” you could feel your stomach bubble up immense pleasure and overstimulating pain as your walls flared and fluttered around his thick cock as your second orgasm begins to enthrall your body.
“now now, y’can handle the club—you can handle this dick, isn’t that right pequeña?” Javíer hissed and heaved out roughly as he feels his own climax approach him.
he still doesn't stop his hips from hauling into yours as he leans himself down, splaying his clothed chest against your back. you felt his free hand go up through your torso till he found his way to your titties, squeezing each one through your top.
you felt the way his callous big hands burned onto your chest and neck, now feeling hot on your sweating skin. your bodies rocked against each other as you both indulged in thrilling pleasure.
you felt the brim of your climax get closer to shooting through and out your body, pussy clenching once more around Javíer’s coated cock “ándale neña, dámelo” he coos breathlessly as his hips begin to stutter down into a flux pace.
the empty streets echoed with noises of your nefarious act.
you would be damned the minute anyone was to see two of you.
just the unholy thought of someone possibly watching the two of you. the way he had you like this; in a completely immorally beautiful position was enough to have your body skyrocket.
the intense wave that crashed through you as your cries croak out into silence, only now hearing Javíer’s deep groans and grunts in your ear as the grip he has on your throat tightens softly.
he began to reach his own climax as you felt him twitch inside your fluttering walls, milking him through his orgasm completely. your bodies completely melted into each other as you both became breathless together.
you felt the way his load creamed into you, coating your walls and filling you up with his creamy cum as he watches the mix of both your pulpy moisture drip out of your swollen hole.
you were seeing stars as your eyes were squeeze shut as the slight cut-off of oxygen had your mind-boggled and feeling febrile.
the second Javíer feels you turn into mush under him while in his embrace. he immediately pulls out, reality setting him out of his lust possessed-like trance.
he tucks himself away after hiking up your panties and pulling down your skirt. he reached over for his jacket that was in the driver's seat, sprawling it over your lap after he flipped you over; helping your sore and fucked-out self sit.
he immediately checked around to see if anyone had been watching before shutting your passenger door and making his way to sit in the driver’s seat.
he leaned over into you, placing a passionate kiss on your lips as his warm hand caresses your cheek before pulling away, still leaned in close to your lips.
“lo que pasára pequeña, if you wear these tiny mini skirts without around me”
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#pedro pascal#pedro pascal smut#pedro pascal x you#pedro pascal stories#pedro pascal one shot#pedro pascal fandom#javier pena x you#javier pena one shot#javier pena x reader#javier pena smut#javier pena fanfiction#javier peña#javier peña smut#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal narcos#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedrostories#narcos#javier pena narcos#pedro pascal x y/n
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Pedro boys fashion matrix
* Click for higher resolution
• Masterlist •
This one took me ages to make, and it's probably one of my favourites I've made so far. Which is your favourite category?
Commentary below the cut:
Survival chic
Joel, Frankie, Ezra, Mario
These boys have it tough. Be it an apocalyptic world, somewhere in the Colombian jungle, or on another planet entirely. And yes, I had to add Mario.
Fun fact: all four survival boys wore gloves in the show/movie.
Office basic
Dave, Max P, Javier, Mr. Ben
I do love a shirt and pants ensemble sans suit jacket. I might be biased, but Mr. Ben might have stolen the show with his sexy specs.
Office chic
Whiskey, Javier, Max Lord, Marcus Pike
These are some sharply dressed boys. The tailoring on Whiskey's suit in particular is *chef's kiss*.
Military chic
Javier, Dave, Veracruz, Pero
Pedro boys look good in fatigues, huh? Although Pero does steal the show with his medieval armour.
Extra AF
Oberyn, Din, The Thief, Meemaw
These guys (and meemaw) need no introduction, am I right? Neither does meemaw, with her rip-off Anna Wintour bob and fancy frames.
Comfortcore
Javi G, Dieter, Joel, Charlie
These are the guys you know would be so soft to cuddle with. Except Joel, who's definitely all contractor™ muscle underneath that tshirt he keeps wearing inside out.
Leather mavens
Marcus Moreno, Dio, Zach, Oberyn
The people have spoken - they want Moreno in this matrix, and I’m not complaining! We know these boys look good in leather, but Oberyn’s head-to-toe leather fight look is something else (tragically it proved to be fashion over form).
Related posts:
Pedro boys hair matrix
Pedro boys facial hair matrix
How long will Pedro boys survive the apocalypse
Pedro boys chattiness matrix
#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal memes#pedro pascal cinematic universe#pedro pascal#pedro boys#tlou#the last of us#joel miller#mandalorian#din djarin#narcos#javier pena#javier peña#triple frontier#frankie catfish morales#prospect ezra#pedro pascal snl#kingsman golden circle#agent whiskey#jack whiskey daniels
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Some Fools Fool Themselves
➔ Javier Peña x fem!Reader - 2.7k
➔ You were meant to be a mission—an insider that Javi could wring information from on some of the biggest names in the trade. It didn’t go to plan, but maybe that’s not so bad.
➔ Rated MA for unprotected p in v sex (don’t do this irl pls), oral (m receiving), throatfucking, handjobs, creampie, spanish dirty talk (both javi and reader - translations in footnotes), reader has female anatomy and uses fem pronouns, reader wears a bikini, smoking/nicotine use, cheating (reader is married this is the mob wife fic you all asked for), kind of angsty but mostly just porn with the slightest sprinkling of plot for ✨flavor✨ [please let me know if i missed anything at all :)]
The bright, glaring yellow waves of sunlight reflect off the surface of lapping pool water and cast it in a nearly green light. Javi’s dark eyes are transfixed on it through his polarized sunglasses as he marinates in the beating hot Colombian summer sun.
Javier has never questioned his dutiful determination before. He’s never wondered if the ends actually do justify the means. He’s been in the palm of Uncle Sam’s hand for so long that the lines have become blurry—that the consideration of moral superiority doesn’t cross his mind anymore. Not that it ever really has; that’s why he’s so well-suited for the job he’s in. He follows his orders, no matter the cost.
And that’s why you pose such an issue to him. You make him question everything. Every move he’s made, every goal he’s been so set on accomplishing for so many years. If he sends this shiny-sinister iceberg of a drug hierarchy tumbling down the way he’s always believed it should, you’ll be buried in the debris. And maybe, at first, that knowledge didn’t bother him. Maybe he even believed that you deserved that—to be crushed by the weight of your own empire.
If he did, he certainly doesn’t anymore—and it’s killing him.
He’s never been so shaken and unsure. Maybe that’s why the water has caught his eyes—it’s a visual representation of how he feels. Rippling and indecisive, desperate to cling to you yet eager to let you go just like the droplets that part from your form as you lift yourself onto the concrete lip of the pool.
You stride toward him with slow movements, and the dilemma vanishes completely from his mind.
”You look stressed,” you murmur as you kneel beside the lounger he’s sprawled himself out on and take his hand. “What’s wrong?”
”Just tired,” he hums in response. He runs the rough pad of his thumb over the back of your hand in an unconscious effort to sooth your worry over him. “Long night at work.”
You don’t know what he actually does—as far as you’re concerned, he’s just a lowly janitor at the embassy. You can imagine that such menial labor is thoroughly exhausting, though, and you’re determined to help ease his sore muscles.
”Flip over,” you instruct—and like a good agent, he follows orders.
For fingers that he’s noted time and time again are so much daintier than his own, they work wonders on his sore muscles. They work with skill and intuition, magnetically drawn to the worst knots in his back. The pressure is perfect, and it has him practically drooling.
When those skilled fingers of yours hook into the waistband of his swim trunks and start tugging them down, he doesn’t even think of resisting.
You’ve learned to do something that no one and nothing else has managed to accomplish in all his lifetime—you quiet his swirling mind. There’s nothing beyond the bubble of you and him. Nothing to worry about, nothing to accomplish. No ulterior motives to his presence here, shirtless and lounging like he owns the place. Like this isn’t your husband’s house that he’s supposed to be searching for intel.
You coax him to roll over again onto his back. He can’t miss the heat of your gaze—the way your eyes shamelessly skirt down the broad expanse of his torso to take in the softly swelling length of his cock. He knows you relish in these moments—when all you have to do is look at him to get him going. You’re proud of yourself for it, for the effect you have on him.
It’s easy to forget, when you have him completely at your mercy like this, that you’re just as weak for him as he is for you.
”Missed you,” you mumble into his lips as you straddle his lap.
He takes your hips in his steady grip—guides the pace as you rock against him. “It’s only been a couple days.”
”I know,” you whisper. You grind down harder than he means to allow you, drawing a deep groan from his diaphragm. “Still missed you.”
And then, because he finds it nearly impossible to lie to you: “I missed you too.”
He licks eagerly into your mouth before you can say anything, and you accept his tongue without complaint. Your fingers now move to his face, practically clawing in desperation to pull him closer and deepen the already heated kiss.
It’s been nearly a year of him hanging around here, playing his role in the act of your affair. He has you figured out to the most minute details—he knows all your wants, all your needs. He knows the exact sounds that he can draw from you when he sucks over the pulse point on your neck: a squeal as you begrudgingly push him away and mumble something about not leaving marks. He smirks and moves on to the next spot, knowing that you can’t resist for long. Knowing that you don’t even want to in the first place.
He knows that you’re eager for him in the same way he is for you—to please, to take care of. He sees it in action when you reach down and wrap your fingers around his length; when you let out a little breath at the way your fingers can’t quite fit all the way around his girth. You act surprised every time, no matter how many times he finds you in his lap like this. And he loves it—loves the way you practically soak through your little bikini bottoms at just the feel of him in your hand.
“That’s it, bebita,” he murmurs close to your ear. “Fuck, that feels good.”
You hum your appreciation at his words, a silent thank you in the twist of your wrist and the tightening of your grip. It makes his hips jump, cock throbbing under your touch as he tries to fight your slow pace in favor of more intense stimulation. But you aren’t having it—you pin his thighs down with your weight so you can languish in torturing him.
He actually growls as your pace slows—a deep, rumbling, animalistic sound that goes straight to your panties. His restraint is slipping second by second the longer you tease him. He’s throbbing, aching in your grip; he would be embarrassed over how quickly you’ve reduced him to such a primal state if he had any blood left in his brain.
”Dámelo.” There’s nothing pleading or polite about his tone. This is a command, an instruction; an order you don’t dare disobey.
You pull away quickly, but you’re back before he can even process your absence. You’ve shifted to the end of the lounger, face deliciously close to where he’s aching to feel you.
”Relax, Javi,” you hum pleasantly. “Déjame cuidar de ti.”
”Then don’t be a fucking tease.” There’s an evident smirk in his tone, and it makes you smile as you slowly trail your tongue along his length, from the seam of his balls up to swirl around the thick, leaking tip of him.
He grunts as your lips seal around him, one thick-fingered hand coming down to gently urge you deeper. He’s not shy of being greedy with you; he knows how much you love the authoritarianism of his dominance. To let go of your mind and let him take the reigns. As much as you love to play at a power struggle, this is what you want in the end. To be controlled, to be guided. To take exactly what he gives you, exactly the way he gives it to you.
“That’s it, baby girl,” he groans with a buck of his hips that pushes him against the back of your throat. “Take it all.”
And always eager to please, you try your best to do exactly that. You open your throat as much as possible to accommodate his girth and do your best to tamp down the gag reflex that he’s bullying awake. Your nails dig into the meat of his hips as you let him guide you deeper, further—he’ll admire the little crescent moon marks later, alone in his government-issue apartment.
His unoccupied hand slips down the back of your neck and tugs at the string of your bikini top. He doesn’t get quite the view he wants with you choking on his cock, but reaching down to gently pinch and tug at your nipples is enough for him—especially with the little moans and vibrations you let out around his cock.
He tugs your hair a little harshly to pull you off of him when the pleasure compounds. You whine at the loss of his taste, and he groans at the shiny spit that links your swollen lips to his cock.
His breathless moan goes straight to your neglected cunt and makes you squirm with arousal. “Shit, sweetheart. Christ, you’re a fuckin’ dream.”
You shake your head and muster every ounce of seduction your lust-addled brain can generate as you trail open-mouthed kisses over his clenched thighs. “I’m real, Javi. And I really want you.”
Normally, he would want to get his hands on you. He would want to press his fingers deep into your cunt and languish in the embarrassing squelch of your arousal as he works you open for him. He would want to pull orgasm after orgasm from you until the pleasure is so blinding that you can do nothing but slump into his arms and take it. But you’re impatient today; it’s been more than a week since you last saw him, and that means it’s been more than a week since you felt anything remotely pleasurable. Your husband didn’t marry you for love, or even lust—he married you for convenience, for security. For cover to keep up appearances.
Maybe Javi’s been taking advantage of that all this time—how deeply you crave the connection that you’re constantly deprived of. Maybe he should call this off now, before he takes anymore than he already has from you.
But he’s not selfless. He has his flaws, and his biggest one is that he’s irreversibly fallen in love with you. He craves that connection just as deeply as you do.
Your desperation bleeds into his veins and makes him dizzy with arousal. He nods as his throat bobs around a deep gulp. “Alright. Dealer’s choice.”
You only have to consider for a moment before you flip in his lap, bracing yourself forward on your arms in between his legs with your ass pressed snuggly against his cock. You grind lightly against him, and it’s almost enough to make him lose his head.
But just as quickly as his sensible thought leaves, it’s right back where it belongs. He grabs your hips harder than he should to drag you against his solid length and relishes in the deep moan you emit.
”Take what you need, baby,” is all the encouragement you need from him. You take him into your hand again and rise up onto your knees so you can tease his spit-soaked tip against your entrance. You look over your shoulder so you can see his reaction as you trace him around your slit; you relish in the hard set of his jaw, the clenched teeth that you can see through his parted lips as he fights the urge to slam you down hard onto him. He’d only be feeding into the bit—he knows your sole mission is to make him lose his composure.
But it’s so hard not to when you’re looking at him like this—like he holds your very soul in the palm of his hand. The trust, the admiration, in your gaze is nearly enough to make him choke.
Thankfully, you choose this exact moment to sink down the length of him.
The sheer size of him is overwhelming on a normal day, and even more so today when you’ve not had your usual preparation. He bullies his way deep enough to fill your chest, stretching you to your very limit and maybe even past it.
But he’s prepared for it, for how staggering he can feel at first thrust. He grounds you to him with heavy hands on your hips and fits you snug against him. He whispers up at you, little encouragements and sweet nothings. His praise rings sweet and clear as he tells you how good you feel, how warm, how tight, how wet. He basks in the feeling of you soaking him all the way to the very base—in the feeling of your sweet juices dripping down him to soak the coarse patch of hair above his cock.
You pause when you feel his tip kissing your cervix, moaning in tandem with Javi at the way he twitches within your snug walls. It’s like the first time every single time you take him—you wonder if that’s what keeps him coming back for more. You’ve never heard him say he loves you, but you could believe it when you’re like this; when he starts rocking up into you with the sole intention of finding that one little spot that’ll have you shaking and sobbing in his arms.
”You’ve got this, baby,” he grunts in reassurance. “You’re takin’ it so well, honey. Tan perfecto.”
The praise runs up your spine from where you’re connected with him and lodges itself in your brain—it plays on repeat while you start bouncing your hips in an effort to match his pace. It draws a deep, heady grunt from him and pulls him into action. One hand grabs a harsh handful of your ass while you spear yourself on his length, and the other hand slides up the curve of your waist to find a nipple to roll between his expert fingers.
It baffles you, his ability to multitask. When you’re like this—filled to the very brim—all you can focus on is the delicious friction of his cock dragging against every sweet spot inside you. But Javi has a precious ability to attend to as many erogenous zones as he can all at once—something you admire more than you can put into words. His ability to rip you apart is completely unrivaled.
There’s a desperate fury to his touch as his hand slides over your hip from your ass, wrapping around you to circle your clit. It’s harsh and fast—the exact pressure that makes you tremble and scream.
And you do; you come with a cry of his name, cunt clenching around him in a vice grip that almost makes it impossible to keep up the pace. But he tries anyway—anchors your hips in his large hands so he can thrust up into you through your high.
The lounger creaks dangerously beneath you, but the sound is lost to your ears when you’re so thoroughly blinded by your pleasure.
Within a few moments Javi follows you, growling deep in his diaphragm as he spills himself hot and thick into your soaked pussy.
You don’t think it’s ever been this messy before. All you can focus on is the hot, sticky mess slipping down your thighs. Javi can tell that it’s uncomfortable for you, so he reaches down and grabs your discarded bikini top to wipe away as much as he can. You’ve got plenty of others—and even if you don’t, your husband will buy you a new one without question.
He discards it back on the burning concrete once he’s satisfied with his clean up job, then leans back on the lounger and grabs a cigarette from the open pack on the table next to him.
He tries not to smile too much when you stay in place and snuggle into his chest. He really wasn’t a cuddler before you—but now, all he wants is to feel your warmth and weight against him.
It’s not nearly long enough before you look up at him with your pretty eyes and say, ”He’ll be home soon.”
”I’d better beat it then.” He flicks the ash off of his cigarette and pushes himself slowly to his feet—finds his swim trunks discarded on the ground at the foot of the lounger.
”Hey?” He pauses, brow furrowing at how small and timid your voice sounds in just that one word. He’s never heard that quality to your tone before, and it worries him.
”Yeah?”
”Just… please come back sooner,” you mutter. “I missed you.”
Javier Peña is a weak, weak man within these walls. He smiles the softest smile he can muster and pulls you into his arms to press a gentle kiss to your hairline. For a moment, he forgets that you’re not really his. “Okay. I will, baby.”
And he means it, even though he knows he shouldn’t.
THE END
➔ Translations:
bebita - baby
dámelo - give it to me
déjame cuidar de ti - let me take care of you
tan perfecto - so perfect
➔ A/N: thank you as always to @shakespeareanwannabe for putting up with my incessant questions and beta requests 🥹 title is from “love hurts” by nazareth
➔ Want to see more from me in the future? Follow @freelancearsonist-updates and turn on post notifications to be notified when I post new fics!
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#pedro pascal#javier pena#javier pena x reader#javier pena fanfiction#javier pena one shot#javier pena smut#narcos#narcos fanfiction#narcos smut#pedro pascal smut#cece writes
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Oblivion (Javier Peña x F!Reader)
A/N: crawling out of hibernation to post a javi p fic before disappearing again. Enjoy!
Summary: After a one night stand with Javier, you come to learn you are pregnant. Angst ensues
Words: 6k
Warnings: SMUT (MINORS DNI), public piv sex, oral (f!receiving), a lil angst, swears -- lmk if i missed anything <3
Italics = flashback // masterlist
The heat of Bogotá was starting to make you senile, even while sitting in the DEA office that’s loaded with fans to circulate the stale, hot air. The papers filled with valuable information you’ve been staring at were beginning to strain your eyes, the small lettering from the typewriter swirling across the page.
You've been here for what felt like days, even though it's only been a handful of hours since you arrived this morning. The ashtray on your desk still emitted a thin line of smoke from the cigarette you had just snuffed out, and the coffee you brewed yourself a few hours ago had long gone cold from neglect.
Setting down the files in your grasp, your free hand rose up to your face, resting your head in your palm. Some days it felt like your job was impossible. No matter what you or your partners, Steve Murphy and Javier Peña did, Escobar always seemed to slink away just in the nick of time; even with the help of Carrillo and the search bloc.
It didn’t help that your mind was clouded by something else that happened just the night before. Something you never expected would happen since yours and Steve’s arrival to Colombia.
The two of you were both assigned to Escobar’s case and flew in together with Connie and their- now deceased- cat. However, you aren't from Miami like Steve is. You're actually from the west coast, Oregon to be exact.
“Y’alright, Darlin’?” You heard Steve’s voice across the room, prompting you to lift your head. The blonde, lanky man stood leaning against the doorframe to your office with a steaming coffee and freshly lit cigarette in his grasp.
“Just… one of those days.” You murmured, giving the man a faux smile before sighing softly.
“Are you going to tell Murphy?” Peña spoke after exhaling from a drag. He sat on the couch in his apartment, shirt off with his jeans still unbuttoned, staring down the bare skin of your back you had yet to clothe.
You scoffed, shaking your head while pulling up your pants, “Absolutely not. This was a ‘one and done’ type of situation.”
You slept with Javier on a whim; drunk, exhausted, and desperate to catch a quick release. Though after the two of you finished, it was a sobering experience to realize you had just fucked your coworker.
Since moving here and meeting him, you couldn’t deny that you’ve developed feelings over time; despite his reputation of sleeping around. Working long, late hours with him and Steve, you came to learn he isn’t as horrible as the gossips in the office seem to think he is.
But even with that knowledge, you couldn’t let yourself get hurt. Not by him. Not when you have to face each other at work almost every day.
“It’s only noon.” Steve smirked, raising the mug in his grasp to take a sip of the coffee.
“I had a long night.” You responded, eyes meeting your partners once again. You trusted Steve with your life. Being placed in dangerous, life threatening situations will make you feel that way about the people you experienced them with. But, you couldn't tell him that you and Javier slept together last night.
Especially because Steve has been teasing the two of you about your evident chemistry for months now; both him and Connie whenever the four of you would get dinner or drinks.
But you were firm on the idea that a relationship with him wasn’t going anywhere. Besides, as soon as Escobar was either jailed or dead, you'll most likely go your separate ways, returning to the home states you came from. And you couldn't let a relationship get in the way of your career.
You're still relatively young, having just turned thirty three months ago. You worked your ass off to be in the position you are now, a DEA agent, despite your field being mostly dominated by men. Misogynistic, dick-headed, men.
And you certainly weren't going to let one of those men- Javier, to a lesser degree- get in your way.
---
“I have to confess something,” You drunkenly slurred, looking at the woman seated on the couch next to you. Connie’s eyes widened as a mischievous, eager-for-gossip grin covered her face.
The two of you had planned a girls night on one of your days off. Constantly working and being around testosterone all the time was frustrating, so any time spent with Connie was cherished.
The two of you really became close on the flight from Miami to Colombia. Instead of flying out from Oregon, you first flew across the country and met Steve in Florida. After a few weeks preparing for your new assignment along with your new partner, you, Steve and Connie departed to Colombia.
“What?” She giggled, sipping the margarita in her grasp.
“I slept with Peña, like two weeks ago.” You murmured, watching the woman's face twist into all sorts of emotions, mainly shocked.
“Really?” She finally found the words to speak.
“We got drunk and it just kind of happened,” You shrugged, taking a sip of your own drink.
“Can I ask… How was it?” She giggled as she asked the question, a goofy grin crossing her face, cheeks heating up.
His rough hands grabbed at your ass as you rode him on the couch, skin slapping from how fast he was guiding you. You could feel every inch of his condom-covered cock fill you up, and only craved more as you feverishly rubbed your clit.
Your eyes met his own amongst the pleasure, making your chest flutter from the intensity and passion. He was hungry for your body; the taste, the feel. It’s something he's been craving for months; watching you parade around in your tight skirts. Steve gave him shit about it constantly, clocking nearly immediately how much Javier took a liking to you, but he always brushed it off.
“God, cariño,” He groaned, watching your breasts bounce. You bit your lip as he wrapped his arms around your waist and lifted you up, switching positions so your back was now on the couch and he was standing.
His cock plunged back into you immediately, causing you to call out his name, nails digging into his arms which had moved down as his hands grasped your hips.
“Javi,” It was breathy and caused him to falter at how sexy his name sounded falling from your lips. He’s heard it a million times before, but not like this, not so needy and whiny.
It caused him to pick up his pace, watching your face twist with delight as he fucked you into the couch. Many women have been in this very spot, but you outstand them by far. Your pussy fit his throbbing cock like a glove, your breasts are the perfect shape and size for his hands and lips, your mouth did wonderful things as well. The blowjob you gave him before you fucked nearly made him bust like a damn teenager.
“Oh, you're going to make me cum,” Your voice rasped out of your throat as your nails dug into his biceps. This would be the third time he's making you finish for the night, a personal record. You haven't had amazing partners in bed in the past.
The familiar burn began to form in your lower belly, your nerves feeling as though they were electric. The man released his hand from your hip and moved it to your core, thumb quickly rubbing your clit in fast circles.
“Cum for me, hermosa,” He grunted, feeling your pussy clench around his cock. The sensation caused his own orgasm to begin to rush up on him, prompting him to thrust faster.
Your orgasm washed through your body as you moaned Javier’s name loudly, head tilted back into the couch cushions from the overwhelming sensation. You could feel the man's thrusts get sloppier until he too came, cock buried deep in your pussy with a groan, little whispers of praise leaving his lips.
“It was uh-” You paused, feeling your own face gaining heat at the memory, “Good. I'll tell you that.”
“I'm so happy that this happened.” Connie gushed, leaning forwards in excitement, “Steve and I have had a bet going on for months. He owes me five bucks.”
You shook your head and rolled your eyes, wanting her to relish in the excitement before you dropped the bombshell of reality onto the woman. As much as Connie and Steve- apparently- wanted this to happen, it just wasn't going to. You made that clear with Javier, now you'll have to do the same with them.
---
“Hey,” Javier’s low voice caught your attention, causing your stomach to drop. You’ve been avoiding him to the best of your abilities since that night seven weeks ago.
Not only because you slept together, but also because, just last night, you found out you were expecting.
The light knock on your apartment door caused you to jump off of the couch and rush over, pulling open the entryway. Connie greeted you with a pitiful, yet encouraging grin. You could see the brown paper bag in her grasp as she slipped into your home, walking past you.
“Do you really think it’s-” She began, walking until she stood in the living room while also handing you the bag.
“Yes.” You cut her off, opening the paper bag to reveal two pregnancy tests. You felt your stomach churn at the sight and swallowed down the bile that threatened to come up.
“What did you tell Steve?” You asked, looking back up at the blonde before treading over to the bathroom.
“He's not even home yet. Him and Javier had to go somewhere following a tip regarding Poison.” She shrugged her shoulders, sitting down on the couch. You chewed your lip, not only anxious for the result of the pregnancy tests, but now for your boys. You should be out there with them... but you're sick at home because of one.
You nodded even though she couldn't see and quietly stepped into the bathroom. It didn't take long for you to do what the instructions asked, anxious enough for the result.
When you flipped the two tests over, revealing little pink pluses on each, bile immediately rose to your throat, causing you to rush over to the toilet and release the contents of your belly.
Connie was quick to knock on the door before entering, rushing over to your figure and rubbing your back for comfort. Her eyes caught a glimpse of the tests, widening when she saw the evident positive on both, before looking back down at your sad figure.
“Oh, honey,” She whispered softly as you raised your head, tears streaming down your cheeks hotly. She grabbed some toilet paper from nearby and gently patted them away, hand cupping your cheek.
“I just… didn't expect this.” You sniffled, shaking your head “We used protection, I-” You stopped and shook your head, a fresh set of tears streaming down your cheeks.
You haven't exactly slept without anyone since Javier. Anytime you tried picking up someone at the bar after work, they just weren't the same. You couldn't even make it past a heated make out session before feeling the need to kick them out or leave.
“What's up?” You didn't dare look at him, your stomach still twisting. You kept your gaze at the manila file in your grasp, facing shelves full of boxes containing files.
“You alright?” He questioned, stepping further into the room, eyeing down your back. You swallowed, hearing his footsteps as they got closer to your figure.
“I’m fine, why?” You furrowed your brow, finally raising your head and looking over your shoulder at the man. He could see the emotions you were so desperately trying to hide, making his own chest ache.
The truth is, the night you fucked had also been stuck on his mind. And the obvious avoidance you've shown has been messing with his head. He understood nothing more was to come from that night in his apartment, but he didn't expect you to be so cold; even at work.
When he walks into a room, you leave it. And if you're sitting at your desks, you always make an excuse to go work in the conference room. Not just that, but you also won't even look at him half the time, and only address Steve when the three of you are standing together.
“No reason.” Javier shook his head, “Murphy just wanted to know if you found the file?” He quickly changed the subject.
“Oh, uh, yeah. I just found it,” You began, finding the confidence to turn around and meet his gaze, “Was just reading through to make sure it was the right one.” You noticed how close he’d stepped into the small room; nearly trapping you against the wall of files. It made your heart race and emotions run amuck.
This is why you had been avoiding him.
Early pregnancy symptoms have been kicking your ass. And having Javier there to rub your back when you felt cramps, or hold your hair back when you were nauseous hanging over the toilet, was something you craved.
“We should get back to Steve then.” The man commented. You nodded, eyes averting from his face to his chest. The shirt he was wearing had been unbuttoned dangerously low, making your cheeks fill with heat. You no longer had to imagine what his bare chest looked like, as you've already gotten to see it.
“Is there something on my shirt?” Javier's voice broke you from your memory, and you felt your face gain heat rapidly.
“No.” You quickly stuttered out, shaking your head, and pushing past him to get out of the corner he had trapped you in.
---
By sixteen weeks, your pants wouldn't button anymore, and your bump was getting less easy to hide. You had to switch to baggier blouses and stretch pants. Luckily, having male work partners, they haven't noticed your changing body yet.
It came as a surprise because you've since quit smoking, drinking, and caffeinated coffee.
Connie has been keeping your secret well. You begged her not to tell Steve until you were ready, to which she agreed. She understood you needed time to figure everything out. Being a single, pregnant woman is mostly frowned upon this day in age. Not that you care about that bullshit, but you don't particularly enjoy being the center of attention.
You also need to figure out if and when you are going to tell Javier. Deep down, you know you should. And if you end up getting sent back to the states because everyone found out, then that's fine as well.
Your plan was to stay and help as much as you could, until near the end of your pregnancy. When it reaches that time, you'll take maternity leave combined with your vacation days, and fly back home. After your baby is born… you don't really know what you're going to do.
A knock on your apartment door caught your attention, and you stood up, brows furrowing. It was late, close to midnight. You had gotten off work a short amount of hours ago, but weren't expecting any visitors.
You reached into your purse and pulled out your gun, making sure it was loaded before slowly treading to the front door. Looking through the peephole, your stomach dropped as to who stood in the hallway.
Unarming your pistol, you placed it back onto your purse before returning over to the door and opening it.
“Javier?” You had seen him at work earlier, but his sudden appearance at your apartment, blocks away from his own, was a shock.
Despite trying your best to ignore him earlier in your pregnancy, you eventually learned to push your feelings about everything to the back burner and only talk shop. No personal life was discussed, only work.
“I need to talk to you.” He spoke, brown eyes boring into your own. You felt your stomach drop, nodding as you stepped aside and allowed him in. You could smell the alcohol on his breath as soon as he walked by you, heading towards the couch.
“What's up?” You questioned, pulling your robe tighter around your body while watching him sit. You had gotten out of the shower only twenty minutes ago, and hadn't bothered to get clothed yet, save for a bra and underwear.
“I need to ask you about the coordinates to Escobar's current hideout.” He spoke, pulling out a pack of cigarettes from his front pocket.
“Oh, um, please don't smoke in here.” You commented, swallowing heavily. The man gave you a quizzical look, tucking the cigarettes back into his pocket.
“Are you quitting or something?” He questioned.
“Something like that.” You spoke, sitting on the opposite end of the couch, “So, what questions do you have?”
“Carillo and the Search Bloc are going to drop into Escobar’s tomorrow morning. I'm having my informant confirm the coordinates once more, you should have yours do the same.” Javier answered, looking you down.
Seeing you there sitting in your robe, fresh out of the shower caused his heart to pick up and cock come to attention. Your cleavage had popped out, the robe slightly splitting open at the top when you sat down. He couldn't help but notice that your breasts seemed larger. Your legs were also deliciously exposed, and looked so soft.
The man just wanted to feel your skin; squish the meat of your thighs, kiss the gorgeous crevice where your legs meet your torso.
“I’ll get a hold of them.” You nodded towards him, “You came all this way just for that?” You then questioned.
The man muttered something about tapped phone lines- which you suspected was a lie- before asking if you had any liquor.
With a nod, you stood up and walked over to your kitchen, pulling a bottle of whiskey out the cabinet. You then poured him a glass before carrying both the freshly poured liquor and the bottle back over to the couch, placing them down in front of his figure.
Truthfully, you miss both drinking and smoking. But the health of your baby is more important than the poison you use to ease your mind.
Sitting back down, you watched the man take a hefty gulp before refilling his glass. You bit your lip, playing with the hem of your robe as the two of you sat there in silence. You were unsure of what to say, wanting to avoid everything besides work.
Your inner voice was suggesting otherwise, fighting for you to tell him the news. You know it isn't fair to keep it a secret, as he at least deserves to know that he’s going to be a father- Not that he has to stay and help raise the kid.
You have fully come to terms with the fact that you're going to be a single mom, raising the baby on your own.
“Javier…” You began, playing with your fingers. The man turned his gaze, searching your face, questioning as to what you're going to say. You took his silence as your signal to continue on, “Do you remember when we slept together four months ago?”
“How could I forget,” The man spoke, a smug expression crossing his face as he took a sip of his drink.
You rolled your eyes at his comment before taking a deep breath, “Uh, well. I-I think the condom broke.”
The man's cheerful expression quickly dropped into a serious one as he set the glass harshly down onto the table, standing up, “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I'm sure.” You frowned in return, standing up as well and untying the robe to expose the small bump of your belly. You watched the man's eyes drop to your mostly naked body. He first stopped at your breasts, admiring how enticing they looked tucked in your bra, before trailing down to your stomach. He could see the shadow the bump caused, sending his heart into his throat.
“I found out at seven weeks. My period was late.” You broke the silence, retying your robe. “I admit I didn't know how to tell you- If I was even going to in the first place. But, I'm getting to a point where I can't hide it anymore. And…” You paused, swallowing, “You deserve to know.”
Javier only stared you down, resting his hands on his hips, “And you haven't slept with other guys?”
“No, I haven't slept with other men.” You felt hurt by his question even though it was reasonable. The two of you don't have a claim over the other, “I-I tried after our night together and… couldn't. I know that you're the father.” You brought your hand down to your bump. Your baby was still small, only being sixteen weeks along, but you have grown to love the thing with your whole heart.
“Look, I-I need time to think about this.” Javier muttered, shaking his head. You felt your heart begin to race at his comment, even though you'd already prepared yourself for heartbreak.
The man doesn't want to be tied down, he proved that by walking out on his wedding with Lorraine all those years ago, and the various women he circulates through in a week. You should've expected his rejection.
“I don't expect you to be a part of this.” You quickly spoke, trying to reassure him- and yourself, “I fully am ready to do it on my own. I have been since I found out. I won't tell anyone it's yours.”
He stared at you before nodding silently. This is certainly not what he expected when he came to your apartment this evening; he had different intentions. He missed you. He missed your body and the way you taste. The hookers and informants he's been fucking the last four months have been like dirt compared to you.
But now knowing that you were carrying his kid? It all felt so overwhelming.
“I-It’s probably best if you go…” You spoke so quietly, wrapping your robe tighter around your body, his silence beginning to make your heart race.
“Hermosa-” Javier began, but you saw him hesitate to speak. He only nodded and turned on his heel before stepping over to the door and leaving swiftly.
The moment Javier left your apartment, you couldn't stop the tears from spilling down your cheeks. You felt overwhelmed, sliding down the back of your front door after he had shut it, hands covering your face.
You felt guilty for kicking him out, and even regret it a little. Even though he told you he needed time, he looked so upset when you told him to leave. And what was he going to say just before exiting? Why did he stop himself?
You cried on the floor for god knows how long before making your way to your land-line, which sat on the side table next to the couch. You needed a friend- Connie- who usually made you feel better about the situation you're in.
The phone dial rang two times before someone answered. When you blubbered a somber greeting, you immediately recognized that Steve had answered when he questioned if you were alright.
“Steve,” You bit your lip, trying to swallow down the lump in your throat, “Can I speak to Connie?”
“She’s asleep,” His southern accent spoke loudly through your receiver, “Are you sure you're fine?”
you sighed heavily at his question, silent tears streaming down your face as you sat on the couch. You figured now would be the time to break the news. He’s become a close friend since meeting in Miami; both him and his wife.
“Steve, I have something to tell you.” You began with a sniffle, “I-I’m pregnant…”
Your partner was silent for several moments before he finally spoke, “Jesus. Does Connie know?”
“Yes. She helped me find out, actually.” You wiped your eyes before taking a deep breath, trying to calm down your emotions. The distraction of Steve was helping, along with lifting a heavy weight off of your shoulder. But Javier still lingered on your mind; his displeased face haunting the back of your eyes every time you blinked.
“Why didn't you tell me earlier? Does Peña know too?” Steve then questioned, causing your heart to wrench. A new lump formed and a fresh set of tears began to fill your eyes, spilling down your cheeks.
“Javier knows,” Your voice cracked as you spoke, “He’s the father.”
“Oh,” The blonde's deep voice came across quiet through the receiver of your telephone, “I’m so sorry.”
---
Bullets ricocheted across the surrounding brick walls, nearly hitting you as you quickly jumped behind a barrier. You could hear your partner yelling in Spanish from the rooftops, as he had taken a separate route, while you quickly hid from the gunfire.
Streams of silent curses left your lips, brick dust and chunks flying throughout the air from bullets. You could feel your heart beating against your chest, adrenaline pumping hotly, as you held your pistol in hand.
The gunfire finally stopped a handful of seconds later, but it was soon followed by the sound of a car peeling away down the street, causing you to peek over the wall. La Quica and Poison were gone and the street was empty due to the gunfire.
“Shit,” You cursed just as your partner approached the brick wall you hid behind.
“What the fuck were you doing?” Javier’s angry voice caused you to roll your eyes, reholstering your pistol before facing him.
“What?” You furrowed your brow in anger.
“You could've gotten hurt. You're not even wearin’ a fuckin’ vest.” He continued on, gesturing to the blouse donning your top. You merely stood and listened as he ranted. He never used to be this protective over you. Not even after you slept together and before you found out about your pregnancy.
“Why the fuck did you chase them?”
“We could've had them if you hadn't taken the roof!” You yelled back, arm raising as you harshly poked him in the chest.
Javier Immediately clenched his jaw, eyes narrowing towards your figure. You know he wanted to snap back vile words in return, but kept his composure. He couldn't bring himself to, not when you're pregnant, especially with his kid. He already made you draw the short straw, he didn’t need to cut it even smaller.
“Get your ass into the jeep.” He spoke through grit teeth, choosing to abandon the argument all together. You scoffed, kindling his temper even further. He needs a cigarette as soon as the two of you get back to the office.
-
“Peña told me about Poison and La Quica.” Steve’s southern drawl caused you to lift your head from staring at some paperwork.
“Did he also tell you about how he was a dumbass-”
“You need to get your head out of your ass, agent.” The blonde man spoke deadpan, cutting off whatever you were about to spew. He didn’t care, all he knew was that Javier had smoked four cigarettes in the span of an hour after you had gotten back. He finally confronted the man as to why the two of you were acting so off after your outing.
“Javier was scared. Though he may not act like it, he’s terrified of losing you- and the baby.” The man whispered the last part, knowing you haven’t told the rest of the office yet, “He admitted it to me just before I came to confront you. ”
You felt your heart clench, quickly averting your gaze from Steve, “I-I didn’t realize.”
“Peña may not have been the best choice to… procreate with. But, you’ve gotta throw him a bone.” Your partner mumbled softly, catching your attention once again.
“I’ll talk to him.” You swallowed with a nod, standing up from your desk.
-
“I’m sorry.” You immediately spoke once Javier had settled back at his desk. The man spent hours doing some meaningless task in the file room; most likely just to avoid you. “I haven’t been taking your feelings into account. I just… assumed you didn’t care.”
“I figured that was what you wanted.” Javier simply answered, eyes meeting your own. He leaned in his desk chair, arm draping over the backrest.
“No-” You quickly yelped, feeling your face gather heat, “I mean…Can we talk in the conference room?” You then whispered, suddenly so aware of your coworkers and how silent the office seemed. Nobody's eyes were on you and Peña, but you could tell they had purposely stilled their movements to hear better.
The man only gave you a simple nod, gesturing for you to lead the way.
Once the two of you had made it to the conference room, you quickly closed the door and blinds on the window-filled wall. The sensation of Javier's eyes on your back urged you to turn around.
“First, I want to apologize for acting like such an ass out in the field. I'm used to only having to worry about myself, and I wasn't thinking about…” You trailed off, hand hovering over your belly, “I should've been vested. And followed you onto the roof.” You added, finally making eye contact with the man.
He sat leaning against the conference table, arms folded which caused his biceps to bulge deliciously. You know if you weren't pregnant, he'd have a lit cigarette between his lips.
“I want to apologize too. I shouldn’t have acted out. I-” He cut himself off, standing up straight now, “I care about you, and the kid.” He gestured to your belly, glancing down. You had the bump hidden quite well under a flowy blouse, but even just knowing it was there caused his heart to pick up speed.
Unable to stop the smile from growing across your cheeks, you dropped your head shyly. He had spoken such simple words, but they meant everything to you. Never did you expect for him to say he was sorry, as well as admit emotion. It almost made you hopeful- but you quickly had to shut down that feeling, not wanting to get disappointed or hurt. You know that nothing is going to come from this. Javier is nothing more than your baby’s father. He’s probably just apologizing to keep you happy.
You then cleared your throat and met his gaze once more, having properly discouraged yourself, “So, are we good?”
“Yes.” He murmured.
You gave him one last nod before turning on your heel, approaching the door. Standing alone with him was beginning to feel overwhelming.
“Wait,” Javier interrupted your exit, grasping your bicep and pulling you back over to him. His other hand cupped your jaw in the process, pulling your gaze up to match his as his lips met your own with fervor.
Melting into the kiss, your arms grasped onto his shirt, pulling your chests taught. His arms snaked around your waist, lifting you up from your ass and quickling placing you onto the conference table just behind your bodies. Wrapping your legs around his figure, your hands moved up to the back of his neck, tangling your fingers into his hair.
“God,” Javier groaned against your lips, hands fishing under your blouse. Your body reacted delightfully to his touch, only yearning for more.
“Missed you,” You mumbled. Javier unhooked your bra and pulled it away from your chest, quickly cupping your breasts as soon as they hung freely. He could feel how swollen and full they’d gotten, only causing his mouth to water.
Javier then growled, fingers twisting your nipple softly, “I need to fuck you,”
His statement caused your pussy to throb, but you quickly pushed him away, “Not in the office.”
“Why not?” He frowned, head twisting in question as he stepped backwards towards the door, locking it, “Just need to be quiet.”
Biting your lip, your morals fought a losing battle as the man began unbuttoning his top and slowly stepping towards your seated figure. He returned to the same position he was before, securing your legs around his waist once more. He then guided your arms up, taking off your blouse, allowing your bra to fall off in the process.
You heard him softly groan at the sight of your breasts before he leaned over, lips meeting the delicate skin of your nipple, sucking and biting tenderly. Tossing your head back in pleasure, you felt as the man began to grind his hips into your own, hard cock pressing up uncomfortably against his tight jeans.
Reaching down, you rubbed him through the denim, causing him to falter in his movements, “Christ, hermosa,”
Finding the hem of your pants, the man slipped his hand in past your underwear feeling the full bush of your pussy before his fingertips met your clit. Accidentally moaning at the sensation, Javier quickly put his hand up to your mouth, covering it gently. Your arousal only caused his cock to throb harder.
Unzipping his jeans, he freed himself and gave his dick a few pumps, grumbling lowly, “Gonna fuck you,”
“Please,” You pleaded against his other hand, which was still covering your mouth.
Lifting your ass up off of the table momentarily, the man slid your pants and underwear down, exposing your pussy for him to enjoy. Mouth watering at the sight, he dropped to his knees, quickly dipping his tongue deep into your core. Biting your lip to repress the sounds of pleasure you wanted to spew, your lower belly grew hot with pleasure as Javier sucked your clit harshly and slid two fingers in.
“Oh- God, Javi-” You whimpered, one of your hands lifting from the table and tangling into his hair. You could hardly see him over your pregnant belly, making the reach a little difficult. The man hummed against your pussy, pleased with how well you were responding to him. Recalling the last time you had sex, your bodies naturally seemed to understand each other perfectly; and it seems it’s happening this time as well.
With his tongue working expertly against your clit, your pussy clenched around his fingers. He could feel that you were getting close to coming, and picked up his pace in combination with sucking your little bundle of nerves more harshly.
“Cum for me, cariño.” You heard Javier growl, just before you couldn’t take it anymore and felt your orgasm wash through your entire body.
The man wasted no time licking you clean before standing back up, quickly plunging his cock deep into heat. His hand covered your mouth once more, silencing the yelp of pleasure that was leaving your lips. Thrusting his hips, the man fucked you roughly on the conference table, causing it to shake with the movements. You could feel every inch as he did so, only adding to your pleasure.
Balancing your weight onto one hand, you moved the other down to your clit and rubbed feverishly, throwing your head back in pleasure. Clenching around the man's cock at the sensation, he groaned softly, faltering his thrusts slightly before continuing.
“Fuck you feel so fucking tight. If you weren’t already pregnant, I’d do it again.” He grumbled as one of his hands rested on your belly, helping move your body to the rhythm of his thrusts, “Your pussy feels that good.”
Your second orgasm caught you by surprise, the man's words luring you there quickly. Javier’s own orgasm followed closely behind, your cunt clenching around his cock, milking him thoroughly. His head tossed back in pleasure, continuing to thrust lazily until you both became too sensitive at the feeling.
“Fuck,” Javier cursed while tucking himself back into his jeans, still breathing heavily. His button-down remained open, deliciously showing off his gleaming, sweat covered chest. You paused at the sight, biting your lip, before slipping off the table and collecting yourself as well.
“We should get back to work,” You murmured, embarrassment slowly setting in, now realizing you just fucked Javier in a very inappropriate place. Anyone could’ve knocked on the door or windows; and what if it happened to be Steve or the Ambassador?
Instead of responding vocally, Javier only nodded, eyeing your frame up and down as he buttoned his shirt back up.
#javier pena x reader#javier pena x you#javier pena fanfiction#narcos fanfiction#javier pena smut#pedro pascal fanfiction
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wicked games you play
javier peña x f!reader | bonus scene of late night texts
summary: It's the year 2000. Javi is minding his own business on the porch of his pop's ranch when a text from an unknown number vibrates his phone. The only problem is, no one knows he has a phone and no one has his number.
chapter warnings: smut. p in v. fingering. cunnilingus. javi pov. wrap it before you tap it, people. 18+.
PLEASE read chapter six before this one.
Javi’s unsure who moves first—when the words leave your mouth.
All he knows is his lips are on yours, he has a fistful of your tee, and you’ve buried your nails into his scalp.
It’s heavy, all smothered in desperation and wrapped with lust as he begins drowning again. So willingly, almost wishing too. Feeling your presence seep into his bones, making his brain turn silent and everything else wake up.
Then you whimper, and he has to fight a grin.
That night on the phone coming straight back to him. How you’d gasped, moaned, right down his ear—how it had kissed his brain and made him hard. How pretty you sounded.
Now he gets to see it all. Hear it all.
His fingers sliding over your neck, your quickening pulse hammering against his fingers as your eyes open. And they’re ablaze with want, dousing him in it, coating him—becoming the only layer he wants to wear.
“Been thinking about this since the phone call.”
“Quite tame for you, Javi. I’ve been thinking of a whole lot more, honestly.”
He likes it when you’re quick. When your quick-wit slides from your tongue.
He likes it more that it’s you who begins to remove his shirt, palms sliding over his shoulders, fingers under the fabric as it slides down his arms until it flutters to the ground. Yours follows, his thumbs hooking under, knuckles grazing your skin before it’s over your head and in some corner.
Then your lips begin to play a game. You pull them from him, making his mouth chase—doing so until he grasps your jaw and cheek, licking into your mouth. The noise you make goes straight to his cock—it hardening—uncomfortably so—against the zipper of his jeans. Rolling his hips against you as you moan.
Thankfully, the other clothes practically melt from the two of you. Javi guiding you out of yours, you sliding his jeans down with a doe-eyed look before kissing up his calf, past his knee, along his thigh—
Javi pulls you to your feet.
“I get first taste, baby.”
It’s an earlier promise he’s calling on, cashing it in. One you had given him—sweetly saying you promise— when you were so close down the phone to him.
His mouth finds your neck, tongue swiping over your collarbone, tracing a line down the skin close to the cup of your bra before he lightly sucks.
It’s just enough—but not enough to mark. Hands winding around you, undoing the second to last piece of clothing on your body, freeing your chest to him—your nipples pebble under the cool air, before his tongue wraps around one and his palm the other.
“Fuck.”
He smirks at the breathy way you say it, your hand burying in his hair, tugging lightly.
It’s then you mumble that you’re safe, clean.
That you haven’t been with anyone in months.
Javi kisses you for that. Not because he’s possessive, but rather he paints your lips in relief that he’s not at risk of losing you to someone else. Someone possibly better, who can offer you more.
A thought which niggles and roars, depending on his mood and day. But this, the two of you together and your confirmation calms a part of him that he’s tried not to let get to him. Something you must be able to tell because your palm tilts his head back up to you.
Strict demands—instructions: bed, top drawer, protection.
Tomorrow, when he runs his fingers up and down your side—now knowing how soft and warm you are—he’ll comment on your prepared presumption. Watch in awe as you likely go embarrassed again—hide yourself behind that smile until he pulls you close, kissing you, assuring you.
Maybe he’ll tell you then that his room has some too. That he hadn’t assumed, having been happy to just meet you, but if it happened, he hadn’t wanted it to fall on you to sort. Wanting to be prepared.
In truth, he’d have been happy just to enjoy the feeling of you smirking against his lips as he clutches your cheek, presses his forehead to yours, and curl into the feeling of your hands digging into his side.
But, if he gets to reap, he’ll reap. Sliding his hand down your neck, fingers brushing over your breast, thumb and finger lightly squeezing the peak of your nipple, feeling it harden under his touch once more.
“So pretty,” he murmurs.
Sliding his tongue across your smooth bottom lip—tasting the salt from the chips earlier—the scent of shampoo that he’s had driving him insane since you were in his truck.
You make the prettiest noises too.
Do the prettiest things.
Feeling your hand stroke over his cloth-covered cock, fingers lightly sliding up and down, up and—
“Can I taste you, cariño? Please?”
Your hand pauses its teasing, eyes meeting his, and then you nod.
And fuck does he.
Peeling your underwear from your hips, he leaves them balled up at the foot of the bed he has you splayed on.
Javi knew you’d be soft, smooth. His cheek brushes your inner thigh as your fingers resume their place—tangled in his hair.
He’s barely touched you, barely ran the tip of his tongue over you, but you’re trying to move your hips. Patience not a current virtue, by any means.
Please, you beg.
On another night—after sharing many of them together—he’d make you wait. Pin your hips to the bed, drag it out until your voice is hoarse from begging him.
But he wants this, too.
Needs you. All desperate to take you apart—to have your taste on his tongue, the scent of you in the hair above his lip. He wants to hear you make the noises you did for him down the phone, but here in person—all live, just for him.
Maybe, on another night (if he can be so lucky), he’ll be able to see what you did that night. Watch, hand around his cock as your fingers bury themselves inside you at his words, at his praise. Because you are so good. Like being told it too, from the way, you whimpered when he told you to get on the bed.
Good girl, he had said and he watched as your pupils swallowed all of the shades that make up your eyes.
Gripping the back of your thigh, thumb digging into your skin, he slides his tongue over you. Feeling you keen. Mastering you as though he’s read books on you. Hearing you drop curses like they’re full sentences, teasing and taunting, before he breaches you with a finger, then another, sliding them in and out as you moan.
It’s takes him a moment to realise his own hips are rocking against the bed, desperate for friction.
Because you’re incredible, beautiful, gorgeous.
From the sounds and how you look at him, to how you curl into his touch and say his name. His cock straining in his underwear, almost desperate to bury it inside of you—feel how warm you are wrapped around him. The thought willing him on as his nose catches your clit, his name dropping from your tongue as though it weighs something important.
And he can feel how close you are. It is punctuated by how your breath is hitching, remembering it well from the phone.
Your body craving what he’s doing to you—all tense because of him. Dangling, all set to fall and be flung over the edge. Pushing you closer and closer, your fingers tightening in his hair as he buries his tongue inside you, both hands keeping your thighs in place, and he’s waiting, bracing—
Then he hears it.
How you snap.
The way you spill his name from your swollen, lovely lips as he works you over the edge. Feeling it ripple through you, tasting it on his tongue as you spill into his mouth.
He expects you to need a minute, but you lift onto your elbows, eyes heated—all lust-filled, drunk on him. His tongue licking the taste from his fingers, watching your orbs darken before you pull him towards you.
You allow him a brief moment to take you in. His eyes spotting the way your collarbone glistens with sweat, your brow and forehead too. He’s unsure what he expects when your breaths die down, but it isn’t your interlocked fingers around his neck. It isn’t your lips crashing, slotting, forcing themselves against his as you pull down his underwear, wrap your legs around him and press your mouth to his ear:
Fuck me.
That’s what you whisper—more breath than syllables.
And you’re warm, under his palm and body—hot and searing, threatening to burn him alive. He is a man who thinks he deserves to be on a pyre, an array of guilt that is squashed down—built into the foundations of who he is here, back home and in Texas.
With you, he feels like something else. Someone whole. Better. Aware of his mistakes but confident he’s done time for them. Choosing, instead, to burn from your lustful gaze and the way you want him.
His fingers brush over your cheek, tilting your head up so he can kiss you. Show you how you’ve shaken his foundation—made it quake under your kind laugh and perfect smile. He could name more things—of all the ways you’re perfect.
But he hears your fingers finding something that crinkles, mouth pulling from him before your teeth rip it open—his lips curling into a smirk.
Wide eyes asking, without your tongue moving, “Do you want me to do it?”
He ascends. He’s sure he fucking does, anyway. Nodding, suddenly quiet—more quiet than Javi has ever known himself to be in this predicament.
Because usually, he’s a talker.
He’s the one who has someone on their knees, hand around the back of their neck as he makes their ass ripple.
But, you’re not them—and he isn’t who he used to be.
Your hand, all warm, smooth and silky, takes him, thumb brushing over his leaking tip as your other hand remains holding the rubber.
It’s never been like this.
Not when he was away, feeling things for those who’ll allow him to pretend; not back when he was younger, mind full of getting out of town.
This is heavenly, fucking everything. You’re something else entirely, mumbling about putting it on with your mouth next time.
Next time.
A sentiment his mind echoes in repetition when he lines up against you, another time I’d make you come again. But I need to be inside you.
And fuck, when he slides in, a voice screams in the back of his head at how your walls wrap around him, the sharp, sweet gasp you emit as he bottoms out inside of you.
You consume him.
Holding you, hand on your hip to keep you close, another around the back of your neck, feeling your breath dance along his chin and neck. It mixes with the moans he had mentally saved from the phone call, now stitching to the way your lashes flutter as he starts to move.
A few thrusts and he feels your nails cutting into his shoulders. His mouth leaves marks that your clothes will hide tomorrow as he stretches and ruins you, setting a pace that feels like bliss.
Dragging himself out, before filling you again—making your lips part, nothing escaping except a breath and his name.
And then you’re clenching around him, your body begging him, pleading for a second release as he pauses, groaning internally at his own teasing.
Dropping to his elbows, boxing you in, he latches his lips to yours. Your pleas bleed into his mouth as he slowly rolls his hips—not enough to push you over but keep you there.
“Please.”
“Please, what?”
Your mouth slid against his ear, pants falling in plenty. “Please, baby—please.”
His hands slide under your back, lifting you, sitting back on his knees. You’re in his lap. Fingers sliding up the back of your neck, face buried in your neck as he thrusts up into you—watching as your mouth parts, his name falling:
Javi. Javi. God, Javi.
He knows.
Fuck he knows.
“Baby, so close—I’m close—“
He knows that too.
Just like he knows how fucking good it is when you call him baby.
an: smut is not my skill, so forgive me. normal romcom, text, banter continue tuesday.
#javier peña x reader#javier peña#javier peña narcos#javi peña x reader#javi peña x you#javi pena#javier peña x you#narcos x reader#javier pena x reader#javier pena x you#javi pena x reader#narcos javier x reader#narcos javier#narcos fanfiction#javier pena narcos#javi peña smut#javier peña x reader smut#pedrostories#agent peña#javi peña#mm: late night texts#javier peña fanfiction#javier pena
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hunt and peck
2.7k / javier peña x f!reader
You challenge him, “That’s your next move? To apologize?”
He returns his hands to the desk and chair. He leans in close and lowers his voice with a straight face. “Yeah. I'm sorry. It was unprofessional.”
WARNINGS: I8+ Based on my original gif rb blurb (suspend disbelief). Reader is bilingual and can sit on Javi. PiV, defiling Steve's desk. Javi is not dark but gets slightly dominant. MY FIRST JAVI P. THING.
-------------------------------🖤🖤🖤
You’re staying late at the office to finish an intelligence report. Javier is the only other person left, and most of the lights are dim. You’re click-clacking away on your typewriter, and through the glass wall of your office, you can see Javier hunched over his own, typing industriously but slowly. He pauses, looks at his watch, and mutters something.
He leans back in his seat and puts his hands behind his head as he stretches his spine. His obscenely short sleeves put his biceps on full display. Baby blue is a good color on him. The armpits are a little darker with sweat. His shirt stays tucked in, stretching over the light padding above his jeans. While he’s all stretched out, he lifts his hips out of the seat and you get butterflies.
When he sits back down, he shamelessly adjusts himself and you throb. You start typing again, trying to put it out of your mind so you can finish undistracted and go meet a friend.
—-------
When you’re finished with the report, you go to the restroom to change into a dress so you can go straight to meet a friend for a drink. You look at Javi on your way back to your office, and he’s scowling at the page. He only looks up for a second. Then he starts typing again. Slowly hunting and pecking. His effort tugs at your heart.
You put your things down in your office then go to his desk. He stretches again, and you avert your eyes. He relaxes into his chair as though taking a break. After he sits back, his legs are stretched out in front of him, with hands on the arms of the chair.
He shamelessly checks you out and asks, "How do you do it?”
"Do what?"
"Type so fast."
"Practice. I have to do it a lot. Are you close to being done?"
"Not at this rate."
"I could help you finish."
He raises his eyebrows. "I could never turn down that offer." Your face heats up, but you smile. "Not from you," he adds with a wink. It's the cheekiest he's been since your welcome-to-the-team party at the bar a few weeks ago. He's always professional in the office. As soon as he looks at the typewriter again, his face falls and he's back to business.
You ask him, "Do you want to, uh –" you look at the typewriter. "Want me to type and you can dictate?"
He knits his brows and searches your face. "Really?" he says with soft, sincere eyes. You nod and look from him to the typewriter and back and he says, "Right," then stands up. "Thank you."
You take a seat in his warm chair and scoot it forward, then position your hands. "Ok?"
He puts his hands on his hips and you watch him settle into the stance then look back at the paper. He starts talking slowly while you type.
"The subject. . . brandished . . . A firearm. . .”
You catch up faster than he expects, and you look up at him for more.
"Shit, you're fast,” he marvels. "But I can't read from up here.” He puts his hands on his knees and squints. You're shoulder to shoulder and he smells like cigarettes. A whiff of his sweat goes straight to your loins.
You ask, "What, you don't trust me?"
"Can't think if I can't read it," he mutters and glances at your legs. He's so serious about work, but you can tell something else is dying to break through. If only he knew you weren't a snitch. If only there were some way you could let him know . . .
—-----
"I could sit in your lap," you offer, prepared to brush it off as a joke. Your heart races and his brow wrinkles as he looks at you skeptically. His jaw flexes. He looks away contemplatively, then back at you. You wait out the silence.
His voice is deep and soft, and his face doesn’t give anything away. "Stand up.”
He sits down, and for a moment you're afraid he's going to tell you to leave. But he settles into the chair, looks at you, then at his lap, then back at you. Calling your bluff, he gestures casually with one hand toward his lap. “Sirvete” (help yourself).
You stand in front of him then sit down about midway up his thighs. He peers around your right shoulder and says, “good” as he looks at the typewriter. He rests his large, veiny hand on your left hip. He says a few words and you type them.
Then he wraps his arm further around you and pulls you back in his lap. All the way back. “There,” he whispers. You’re not on his cock but so close that if you shift your weight, you feel its warmth. So you shift your weight.
He continues dictating, and you type. Then you feel his cock twitch. You ignore it, but when it begins to harden rapidly, he clears his throat and says, “Gotta stretch my legs,” nudging you up from his lap with a subtle lift of one knee.
He hovers over you with one hand braced on the desk and one on the chair. “We’re almost done.” He continues dictating the report, his voice a little hoarser. You sit up a little in the chair and his arm brushes your back. He doesn’t move his arm, and you don't lean toward the desk again. His cock is all you can think about.
—------
“Are you good?” he asks.
You don’t register the question. When you turn to ask him what he said, your eyes fall on the bulge in his tight jeans. Your gaze lingers. He shifts uncomfortably on his feet and shuffles them back, bringing his pelvis backward, too. Then he matter-of-factly says, "Sorry." He takes his hands off the desk and chair and inhales deeply as he stands up straight. He adjusts himself as he turns away awkwardly, bringing one hand to his hip and the other hand to his brow to wipe his sweat with his thumb and forefinger.
You look at him with your panties soaked and blurt out, “That’s your next move? To apologize?”
He looks at you curiously, then returns his hands to the desk and chair. He leans in close and lowers his voice with a straight face when he looks at you. “I'm sorry. It was unprofessional.”
You scoff. He's a tease. Your face heats up and you avoid eye contact.
His jaw flexes and he raises his eyebrows while looking down at nothing, making his mustache look sinister. Then he lowers his head and looks at his jeans. “Okay,” he concedes softly, then looks at you again. He moves his hand from the back of the chair to the back of your dress and rubs big, slow circles, watching your face. You wet your lips and glance at him, then see him register the severity of your attraction.
He slides the hand up to your far shoulder, then stands up and moves behind the chair. He slowly massages both your shoulders. You put your hands on your lap and close your eyes. As soon as you sigh, he leans down with his head close to yours. He freezes his hands on your shoulders and double-taps both his thumbs at the same time like a command. “Stand up.” He breaks contact and steps back. You do as you're told, and soon as you’re on your feet, you hear the low screech of the chair sliding out of the way.
It doesn’t take more than a second for him to press himself into your back, hard-on and all. His hands rest on your hips, and he draws a long breath through his nose. He looks over your shoulder with his head near yours and surprises you when he says, “Type. Let’s get this done.”
He brings his mouth to your ear and dictates in a deep near-whisper, “Agent Peña. . .” You hesitantly type as his hands slither around to the front of your dress. “then had to. . . ” His palms glide over your lower belly, then come to a rest on your hips and hold you steady as he presses his hard bulge against your dress, making you weak. He presses himself into you again, harder this time: “discharge his weapon.” Your whole body tingles.
-
When you’ve finished typing the sentence, his mouth slowly claims your neck, starting low then dragging his open lips upward on your delicate skin. He teases you with his hot breath as one of his hands drifts up to your breast and the other begins to hike up your dress. He closes his lips on your neck and sucks lightly at first, leaving your skin wet each time he plants a long kiss.
Your head falls back against him and his energy becomes hungrier. He rests your dress above your ass. He palms your breast as his other hand ghosts your throbbing clit over your damp panties. "Mmm," he remarks quietly. Then he trails his fingers up to the top hem of your panties and reaches into them. Looking down at his hands on your panties he releases a breathy moan as he feels you. His other hand slides from one breast over to the other and he lightly kisses your ear.
The massive hand in your panties engulfs your naked, dripping seam. It rests there, cupping your needy cunt, then pulls you back into his engorged jeans with a subtle thrust of his hips and a deep breath in. Your eyes close as you savor the feeling of his body wrapped around yours. He swirls his middle finger around the wetness at your entrance, and his voice deepens. “Tan lista" (so ready). He dips his head down and nudges your jaw. You tilt your head, giving him access to your neck again. He seals his lips and sucks, gently denting your flesh with his teeth before tearing his mouth away. He whispers, “What are you ready for?”
He begins to slowly work your clit while his other hand holds you still with an arm crossing your chest as he palms your breast. “Hmm? Que quieres?” (what do you want) He slowly grinds his stiff package into you.
You moan soflty and say, “Ya sabes.” (you already know)
“How do you want it?”
You already feel your lower belly filling with a tense warmth. You can’t manage to answer.
“Up to me, then,” he concludes, his voice soft and deep. He takes a hand off your breast to urgently unbuckle his belt, leaving his other hand down your panties. It’s such a smooth, fast motion, he must have done it a thousand times. The sound of his zipper goes straight to your cunt and you softly gasp.
He wraps his body fully around yours from behind again. The button of his jeans is cold on your lower back but the shape of his hard cock is warm. He inserts a thick finger into your tight, wet hole and you gasp at the intrusion. He slowly pumps it in and out and you sigh with need, feeling a climax already in sight. He removes his hand from your panties and two sticky fingers tilt your chin toward his face. His lips meet yours thirstily, sucking everything out of you. You push your ass back into him as you kiss passionately.
—-------
He abruptly forces you around to face him, and for the first time, you see the hunger on his face. You heard it in his voice, you felt it in his touch, but to also see it overwhelms you with need. His eyes fall on your chest heaving with desire. He plants his lips on yours again and kisses you deeply, his tongue making itself at home in your mouth. He runs his hands down your sides to your ass. He grabs an asscheek in each hand, pulling you away from the desk and into him. Then, without breaking away, he walks you just a few feet to a clean desk and pins you up against the side of it. He pulls his head back to look at you and holds eye contact as he urgently tugs your panties off, then nudges you so your asscheeks rest on the side of the desk.
He pulls down his jeans enough to free his hard cock and you barely catch a glimpse of its imposing form before he aggressively pulls you against him. You moan at the first contact of your wet, naked sex against his stiff manhood, and your legs wrap around him. He kisses you deeply again as he pulls you against him, rhythmically tilting his hips, sliding his hard cock through your folds, getting himself wet and ready. You’re already close. You tilt your head upward, breaking the kiss.
Javi whispers, “Todavía tan lista, sí?” (still so ready, aren’t you?) and inhales sharply. He drags his lips up your throat while it’s extended, then sucks on the crook of it.
“Aun más” (even more), you respond breathily. “Metemela ahorita” (give it to me right now).
He slows down his movements and locks eyes with you. He wets his lips. “Bueno.” He wraps his hand around your throat with his fingers resting where your jaw meets your ear. Then he gently guides you down onto your back. You stare up at the styrofoam ceiling as he notches the fat head of his cock at your entrance. You close your eyes and wrap your legs around him again, using your lower body strength to beg him into you.
He holds you by the sides of your ass and begins to push in, softly grunting. You moan as his girth spreads you open. Half way in he sighs and wraps his hands around your thighs for leverage. Then he pulls your body into him harder as he plunges his cock to the hilt. He retreats then shoves all the way in again, this time a little easier. He repeats the motion, burying himself inside you, breathing heavily and moaning lowly. He pounds you smooth and slow. God, he feels good.
He leans over you and puts his forearms on the desk as he continues railing you. You look at him. His forehead wrinkles and his thoughtful brown eyes study your face as his cock slams into you, filling you to the brim each time. Then he buries his mouth in your neck. At the new angle, he’s putting pressure on your clit. He can tell you’re about to come. His thrusts are smooth and complete, filling you up just right.
“Javier,” you pant on the edge of bliss. “Oh god, I, I'm gonna-”
“Adelante” (go ahead), he whispers gruffly and rolls his hips, grinding against your clit while he's deep inside you. Your spine arches and as your cunt begins to choke around him, you moan. "Ohhhh,” then, “Ohhh, god, Javi.”
As you clench around him, he repeatedly moans, each one soft and short. “Yeah,” he whispers. Then he holds his breath and you fixate on his neck veins bulging. He gasps then grips your sides under your arms, slowly thrusting through your orgasm.
When your pulsations slow, he pushes you forward on the desk, letting his cock fall out with a shudder. He wraps his hand around it and comes with a ragged sigh spilling his load onto the desk, between your legs. He looks at you and breathes for a few seconds, then pulls up his jeans and zips them without doing his button or belt. You sit up, keeping your legs spread to avoid the cum. He hooks his hands under your knees to pivot you over the cum to face the front of the desk. Then he hugs you into him and puts his hand on your head.
You sit there for a minute and he tells you how good you felt. That he'd been wanting to feel you and thought about it every time he saw you. You look at the time and say you should go. You fix yourself and get off the desk.
"Thanks for helping me finish," he says.
He looks at the cum, grabs a tissue, and haphazardly wipes it off then puts the tissue under the desk in Steve's wastebasket.
-------
Yeah he came on Steve's desk
Yeah I resisted the urge to use the word pecker
Yeah this got a content label early on 🙄
And I get this Q a lot so, when/whether I'll do a dark Javi P. Short answer, eventually.
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Thank you for reading and engaging 🖤🖤🖤 It means a lot! You can subscribe to @toxicfics for notifications.
Joel master list in my profile header has all Pedro character's I've done, but it's overwhelmingly my various versions of Joel Miller.
@pedrostories
#javier peña#javier peña x reader#pedro pascal#javier peña narcos#javier peña smut#javi peña x reader#javi peña x you#javier peña x you#narcos x reader#javi pena x reader#pedro pascal x reader#narcos fanfiction#javier pena narcos#toxicanonymity ☠️#javi peña ☠️#pedrostories
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This Night Has Opened My Eyes
Summary: You’ll do anything to avoid getting arrested. Javi P x f!reader
Warnings: Dubcon with a twist, reader is so very very into it, derogatory language (putita, little whore), bondage (handcuffs), rough sex (no prep).
A/N: I wrote something! Wild I know. I’ve had this idea in my head for months bc of the “you’re breaking my heart, baby” scene. Hope y’all enjoy <3
A quick shout of “DEA! ¡Abrir la puerta!” is all the warning you get before your apartment door is shoved open and a man storms in. You don’t have anywhere to hide, so you run to your kitchen, putting the counter between you and the officer. You barely have time to take in his dark hair and broad shoulders before he grabs your arm, turns you around, and shoves you against the kitchen counter.
“Please! Don’t arrest me! They’ll kill me. You don’t understand!” You struggle to get out of the hold of the man behind you. He pulls your arms hard behind your back and slaps a pair of cuffs on your wrists just the wrong side of too tight. “Please, por favor…!” Your voice cracks with desperation. “I’ll do anything!”
The officer places a hand between your shoulder blades and shoves your body down over the counter. He presses himself up against your now exposed ass and you feel his hard cock in his jeans as he leans over and rumbles in your ear “Anything, hermosa?”
Your stomach twists with fear and… something else. You turn your head, trying to look him in the eye. “Anything,” your voice comes out in a breathy whisper. The man leans back, kicks your legs apart and rucks your dress up over your hips.
“No panties? ¿Estás una putita?”
He grabs your ass roughly and slaps your right ass cheek. You try to jerk your body away, but he grabs your hair and pulls you back, turning your head to look at him. “Answer me when I ask you a question, baby.”
You whimper and meet his dark gaze before sucking in a breath through trembling lips “Si. I- I’m a li- little whore.” He smirks and pushes your face back into the counter. You hear the clink of his belt and the sound of his zipper coming down.
He runs his fingers through your embarrassingly wet folds, grazing your clit and making you keen. “Mi putita, ahora. Entiendes?” He grabs the chain between your wrists and pulls you backwards roughly, splitting you open on his hard cock.
He immediately pulls out and slams into you again and you let out a strangled moan. It feels like he’s breaking you apart from the inside. “Do. You. Understand. Putita?” He punctuates every word of the question with harsh thrusts, hitting deep inside you.
You press your forehead to the cold surface of the counter and practically scream “Yes JAV- FUCK. Yes sir. Entiendo!” He twists one hand into your hair and keeps the other on your cuffs, using the leverage to impale you on his cock and forcing you to arch your back. You feel him slam into your cervix with every thrust, so hard the sounds leaving your mouth are more like choked sobs than moans.
“Are you going to cum on my cock like a good little whore?” You’re beyond words, but he can feel your walls clenching him tighter and tighter. He drops his hand from your hair only to wrap his long fingers around your throat. The slight loss of blood flow goes straight to your cunt and a wrecked noise falls from your lips. He slams a few more brutal thrusts into you and your vision goes white, cunt squeezing around his cock and a high pitched whine coming from your throat.
The officer fucks you through it, not missing a beat of his brutal pace. As soon as he feels you go limp, wrung out from your orgasm, he pulls out. He jerks your body up and turns you to face him. He looks into your eyes and strokes your cheek almost tenderly with his thumb.
“On your knees, putita,” he whispers, his face so close to yours he’s almost kissing you. You blink at him, still a bit dazed, before sinking to your knees in front of him. He settles a hand on top of your head and tilts your face to look up at him. “Open, hermosa.”
He slots the head of his cock between your parted lips and you immediately lean forward, taking him as far into your mouth as you can. He strokes your hair, thrusting shallowly into your mouth as you hollow out your cheeks. In only a few moments, you feel his hand tighten in your hair and his head falls back exposing the long column of his throat as hot spurts of cum hit the back of your throat. “Fuck, cariño. Eres increíble.”
He steps away from you and tucks his softening cock back into his tight jeans. He gently pulls you to your feet and undoes the cuffs, rubbing soothing circles into your wrists before tucking you against his chest. You wrap your arms around his torso and burrow your face into the crook of his neck and he presses his lips to the top of your head.
“Was it everything you wanted, mi amor?” he whispers into your hair.
“Yes, Javi. Perfect.”
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Translations:
¡Abrir la puerta!” - open the door!
por favor - please
Hermosa - beautiful/darling
¿Estás una putita? - Are you a little whore?
Si - yes
“Mi putita, ahora. Entiendes? - My little whore, now. Understand?
Cariño. Eres increíble - dear/darling. You’re incredible
mi amor - my love
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HAHA it was RP all along. They love each other <3
#Javier Peña#Javier Peña fics#Javier Peña fanfiction#Javier Peña x reader#Javier Peña x you#Javi Peña#Javi Peña fics#Javi Peña fanfiction#Javi Peña x reader#Javi Peña x you#Javi P#Javi P fics#Javi P fanfiction#Javi P x reader#Javi P x you#Narcos#Narcos fanfiction#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro fics#pedro pascal character fanfiction
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A Baker's Dozen - Seven
Twelve Pedro boys, twelve stand alone short stories, all set in the same bakery.
Hello!
Javi P got a lot of attention last week, both his visit to the bakery and for the many Pickled Peña fics he starred in. Thank you so much for all the lovely comments! It really means more than you probably reaslise! It's been a rough week and I feel lucky to have found a great community here and to have found so much fun and enjoyment in writing to keep my mind off things.
This week's Pedro boy is dedicated to my lovely friend @secretelephanttattoo who is not only an amazing writer, but also one of the best people I've meet on Tumblr. Love you ❤
Series Master List
Working in a bakery almost every day means you pick up on people’s habits, whether they come into the shop or not. You know the bookshop owner across the streets always arrives ten minutes late on Tuesdays. The bodega owner next to your bakery always picks up his dry cleaning on Fridays and the dry cleaning lady always throws out her trash on Thursday evening. And you know that the cute guy with a dimpled smile always walks past your shop at about eight forty-five every weekday morning.
He hasn’t always walked past, it started just a few weeks ago, but now it’s routine. You’d first noticed him when he stumbled over something on the sidewalk, smacking his hand against your window to keep his balance, and making you jump. He’d given you an apologetic smile, that’s how you know he’s got a deep dimple on his left cheek. And a really, really, great smile.
The next morning you noticed him again as he glanced in through the window and smiled, a quick wave as he hurried down the street. And the same thing the next morning and then it was a routine. Around eight forty-five, between customers, you’d keep glancing over at the window until you see him walk past in his well fitted business suit, always a tie flapping in the breeze. He has a routine with those too you notice; a blue tartan pattern on Mondays, slate gray on Tuesdays, navy blue with white dots on Wednesday and the then tartan one again on Thursdays before he ditches the ties on Fridays. You wouldn’t go as far as saying that seeing him is the highlight of your day, but when one day he doesn’t pass by, you notice. And when the rest of the week passes and he doesn’t show up at all, you feel a little bit sad, even though you never even spoke with him.
Monday morning, eight thirty, and you’re working your way through the morning rush, serving coffee and selling croissants and cinnamon rolls, he suddenly appears again. But this time he’s in front of your counter, holding on to a credit card as he smiles down at you.
“Hi,” he says, the dimple deep in his cheek, “I thought it was about time I stopped by and said hello properly.”
“Hi,” you say, a little breathless, he’s even cuter, and handsome, up close, and you’re suddenly very aware of your shiny face, straggly hair and stained apron.
“I’m Marcus, Marcus Pike,” he says, holding out his hand, “I’m the creepy guy who slams into your window and never comes inside.”
“Hi Marcus,” you reply, taking his hand, hoping yours isn’t too sweaty and clammy, “I’m the creepy baker who stares at you every morning.”
He laughs at that, a warm sound that makes your spine tingle as his eyes crinkle at the corners, a wide smile making another dimple pop on his cheek.
“I guess we need to be less creepy then,” he chuckles, “maybe I can start by buying a coffee like a normal customer?”
“That sounds like a good start,” you smile back at him, “what would you like?”
“A cappuccino, please,” he glances up at the coffee menu behind you.
“Coming right up, anything else?” You motion at the fresh croissants and pain au chocolat piled up on the counter and he looks at them with longing.
“I would love too, really…but my job, we’ve got this fitness test thing in a few weeks and I’ve got to be in shape for that. That’s why I started walking to work, instead of taking the metro.”
“Come back when the test is done then, if you pass, it’ll be on the house,” you wink at him over your shoulder as you start preparing his cappuccino.
“Now there’s the motivation I need,” Marcus laughs, stepping back and glancing over the selection inside the display cases, “But you don’t have my favorite I think.”
“No? What’s your favorite then?” you ask, “No, wait, don’t tell me, let me guess.”
“Ok,” Marucs smiles as you hand him the cappuccino in a takeaway cup,” what’s my favorite?”
You look him up and down, and he grins and takes a step back so that you can see all of him, holding out his arms and giving you a little spin.
“Hmm…business suit, always a tie, well polished shoes and a job that requires fitness tests…” you hum, enjoying the chance he’s given you at properly taking him in. His suit stretches almost tight over his broad shoulders, hugging his biceps, and when he holds out his arms, the shirt underneath hangs on for dear life. The suit jacket lifts up over his butt as he turns and you’re given the privilege of eyeing it for the first time. It’s just as cute as the rest of him and you have to mentally chastise yourself for ogling.
“What’s your guess?” he smiles, coming to a stop in front of you again.
“Carrot cake, but you wipe off the frosting to stay healthy,” you say and he manages to look both cute, amused and offended at the same time.
“No way, I would never sacrifice the frosting!” he says, pretending to be insulted as he grins, “but nice try, I really like carrot cake, but it’s not my favorite.”
“Hmm…maybe-”
“No,” he interrupts you with a wave of his hand, “you get only one guess per day, you can guess again tomorrow.” He gives you a warm smile and as he taps his credit card to pay for the coffee.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, keep guessing,” he says, stepping aside to let the man who’s just stepped into the shop approach the counter. With a final wave he disappears out through the door.
The next morning he turns up again, as the morning rush dies down, and orders another cappuccino.
“Canéles,” you say, pointing at him. “Fancy, French, just the thing a guy in a smart, well tailored suit would like.”
Marcus grins and shakes his head, “I don’t even know what they are, but keep guessing!”
“Give me more clues then!” you protest as he takes a sip of the coffee you just handed him.
“Hmm…I used to play bass in a band in college,” he says and you raise your eyebrows. He does not look like a bass player, or any kind of band member for that matter.
“Special brownies?” you ask with a wink and Marcus almost spits out his coffee.
“Definitely not,” he splutters, chuckling as he wipes his chin, “and you only get one guess per day.”
“Says who?” you ask, but you already know the answer, Marcus’s grin tells you.
“I do, my game, my rules,” he gives you a wink and heads for the door, “see you tomorrow!”
Wednesday he comes in a little bit earlier and hands you a travel mug.
“This looks brand new,” you say and he nods.
“Decided I should save on the environment, and your takeaway mugs,” he smiles, leaning on the counter while you start preparing his coffee, “What’s your guess today then?”
“Cinnabons,” you say, glancing over your shoulder, feeling butterflies erupt in your belly when his face splits into a wide grin. But he shakes his head and you give him a mock scowl.
“You’re impossible to guess!”
“Keep trying, gives me a reason to come in every morning,” he replies, “Not that I need a reason though,” he adds, a pink flush suddenly creeping up from beneath his shirt collar as he gives you an uncharacteristically shy smile.
“I’ll keep trying if you promise to keep coming in,” you smile back at him, you can feel heat creeping up your own cheeks as you hand him his travel mug. And of course his fingers touch yours, just a light brush, but enough for both of you to glance down at your hands. You jump a little as his breath catches and when you look up at him again, his lips are parted and you see the tip of his tongue peak out, just for a split second, before he composes himself.
“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” he smiles, “thanks for the coffee again.”
Thursday he’s a little bit late, and he hurries through the door with his tie hanging around his neck, untied.
“Sorry, I worked late last night and slept through my alarm this morning,” he huffs as he reaches the counter.
“You don’t have to apologize to me,” you smile, “I only sell you your coffee,” you hand him the cappuccino you’ve already made him and he gives you a grateful look, “and let me fix your tie while you caffeinate yourself.”
“Thanks, you’re a lifesaver,” he sighs and takes a long sip of the coffee as you walk around the counter and stand in front of him. You look up at him, taking hold of each end of his tie, and you suddenly realize you’ve never been this close to him before. There’s always been a counter between the two of you. Now he’s standing barely a foot away and you can smell his aftershave, warm and woody, as you adjust the tie.
“Over…under…over again…” you mumble to yourself, trying to remember what your dad taught you, “up through the neck and down…there, got it,” you say, gently tightening the tie up against the collar as Marcus lifts his chin up, “but you might want to adjust it.”
“No, it feels perfect,” he says, giving you a warm smile, “thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” you smile back at him, tilting your head up a little to be able to meet his eyes now that he’s standing so close. You should really move back but he smells good and his eyes are so soft looking, the way he just smiles at you.
“What’s your guess?” he asks, smoothing his hand down over his tie as you drop yours to the side.
“What?” you mumble, slightly distracted by how his throat bobs just over the knot in the tie where your hands just where.
“What’s your guess for my favorite baked thing?” Marcus says again and you blink, catching on.
“Oh, of course! Uhmm…brownies? But real brownies, gooey in the middle and crunchy corners?”
“Oh….that is definitely high up on my list, but not my absolute favorite, you’re getting close though,” he grins at you, putting down his coffee mug on the counter.
“I’ve got to run, but….are you free tomorrow, after work?” he asks, his eyebrows knotting together as he waits for your answer.
“Yeah, I’m free,” you say, you can’t stop the smile breaking out on your face at the question and he smiles back at you.
“If you want, I’d really like to have dinner with you, maybe we can both drink something this time?”
“That sounds nice, I’d like that, Marcus,” you reply, butterflies multiplying in your belly as he gently puts his hand on your arm, “and I’ll definitely figure out what your favorite is by then.”
“It’s a date then,” he grins, “you supply my favorite and I’ll sort the rest, I’ll come by at closing, ok?”
You nod and before you know it, he’s leaned in and pressed a soft kiss on your cheek, “I’ll see you tomorrow evening.”
Friday morning Marcus stops by and buys his, by now, regular coffee, “So what’s my favorite?” he asks with a cheeky grin and you stick your tongue out at him.
“Not telling you,” you smirk at him, “I’ll serve it tonight, I’m pretty sure I’ve got it figured out now.”
“I can’t wait,” he chuckles, winking at you before he grabs his travel mug and hurries off to work.
Your day drags on and your nerves tingle every time you glance up at the clock at the wall. When the shop quietens down after lunch you prepare what you hope is Marcus’s favorite dessert, putting it in the fridge for baking later.
Just a few minutes before the clock hits closing time you hear the jingle of the doorbell and look up to see Marcus step through it. He’s changed out of his usual business suit and is wearing a leather jacket over a gray t-shirt and jeans, a bright smile as he gives you a wave. You ring up your final customer, bidding them a nice weekend as Marcus lingers to the side, and then you get a chance to say hello to him as you go to lock the door and flip the sign.
“Hi Marcus,” you smile at him as he steps forward.
“Hi,” he says, leaning down and brushing his lips against your cheek, leaving the spot tingling and your skin warm. When he straightens up he smiles at you, his eyes soft and crinkling at the corners, “I hope you don’t mind, but I have a slightly unusual plan,” he says, pointing to the duffel bag he’s got hanging from his shoulder, “Dinner’s on me, but in your kitchen.”
“You’re cooking for me?” you ask and he nods.
“Seems only fair, you’re making dessert, so I do the rest….well…” he gives a little embarrassed shrug, “with a little bit of help from my favorite restaurant.”
“Sounds like a nice plan,” you say, putting your hand on his arm and his smile brightens again, “come, let me show you the kitchen then.”
You lead him past the counter and into the back room, the kitchen clean and ready for tomorrow, except the dessert for Marcus.
“What do you need?” you ask, “Help yourself to anything.”
“First of all, I need you to sit down,” he says with a smile, looking around the kitchen for a chair and spotting only the stool with wheels on, “Not many places to sit in here, huh?”
“When would I have time to just sit around?,” you laugh, taking your apron off and throwing it in the dirty laundry basket in the back room, “I usually just sit on the counter.” You heave yourself up onto the large workbench as Marcus starts unpacking his duffel bag. He’s hung his jacket on the hook by the door and now he’s crouched down, digging through the content at his feet. The gray t-shirt hugs his shoulders, stretching tight over his back and riding up, exposing a strip of bare skin just above his jeans. It’s so far from the man in the well fitted business suits you’ve been seeing every morning for the past few weeks, a much more relaxed Marcus.
“Do you wear the suits every day because your job requires you too?” you ask, taking the opportunity to stretch your tired back as you get settled on the counter, baking all day takes a toll on your body.
“Yeah, I don’t mind them but I prefer the days when I don’t have to wear them,” he answers, standing up and placing a stack of boxes next to you on the counter. “No peeking,” he says in a stern voice, smirking at you and you hold up your hands.
“I’m not touching anything,” you reply, “But I never asked what you work with?”
“I work at the FBI, with art theft,” he says and you widen your eyes.
“Don’t tell me you’re an FBI agent?”
“Yeah,” he furrows his brow as he looks over at you, “do you..is- is that a problem?”
“No, no, not at all, I’ve just never met an FBI agent. It makes being a baker seem very tame is all.”
“Maybe tame is good sometimes,” he chuckles and looks around the kitchen and his brow furrows again, “Hhmm…hang on, I’ll be right back,” he says, grabbing the bag and going out into the shop again, “No peeking!”.
“What are you doing?” you call out to him as you hear tables and chairs being moved around.
“Nothing, just setting things up, just wait there,” he calls back and a few minutes later he comes back to the kitchen.
“Now, let’s get dinner ready,” he smiles, “Plates and a small saucepan?”
You direct him to them and soon he’s arranging food on two smaller plates.
“Miss,” he says, winking at you and holding out his arm, “Let me show you to your table.”
“How nice, please lead the way,” you smile at him and slip off the counter, taking his arm. He brings you out into the café part of the bakery and leads you to one of the small round tables by the window. He’s put a white table cloth on it and set two candles in the middle, another few candles arranged around the shop. The sun is setting outside and in the dim light of the shop the candles spread a golden glow, giving it an atmosphere you’ve never seen before.
“Marcus…this is lovely, I’ve never had my shop look so nice before,” you say, sitting down as he pulls out the chair for you, “It’s so…romantic,” you let it slip out without thinking but Marcus puffs up a little and beams down at you.
“I’m glad you like it, I really like your shop,” he smiles, “and I really like the shop owner, I wanted to make it special for you.”
“You might be my very favorite customer, Marcus,” you smile back up at him, your cheeks heating up and he grins.
“First course is coming right up,” he says with a smile and disappears into the kitchen.
“You should give food walking tours of the city,” you joke as Marcus smiles at you from across the table. “I’m so full but I still want to go and eat at all your favorite places right now.”
“I’d take them here first,” he says, “and make sure everyone knows where the best bakery in town is, but…” he leans forwards and grins at you, “Speaking of baking, I want to know if you’ve guessed my favorite dessert yet.”
You give him a soft laugh and mimic his movement, leaning forward to meet him across the table, “I think I might have, I just need to go and turn on the oven and then they’ll be ready in a few minutes. But I just realized, you never said what my reward would be for guessing correctly.”
Marcus hums, tapping his long fingers on his chin as he looks at you, a mischievous smile making the corner of his mouth curl up.
“I don’t think we agreed on anything, but if you go turn on the oven and I’ll come up with something good,” he says, his smile widening, making your skin heat up as his eyes seem to suggest something enticing.
Thank god for your industrial oven, it turns on and heats up to the right temperature in no time. While you pull out the dessert plates and take the ice cream out to soften, it hums to life and pings. The dessert goes in and you set a timer and go back out to Marcus, sitting down at the table again.
“It just needs a few minutes,” you tell him, “did you come up with a reward?”
“Yeah, I did, but what if you guess wrong?” he asks, “I need a reward too.”
“If I’m wrong…” you say, thinking out loud, “you tell me your favorite, and no matter what it is, I’ll make it for you.”
“That’s a nice idea,” Marcus smiles, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms, the t-shirt stretching tight over his biceps, you swear you can hear a seam ripping behind him, “but I like my idea better.”
“What’s your idea then?” you ask, giving him a suspicious look, he’s got a very happy grin as he looks at you.
“If you guess wrong, I can take you on a second date,” he says and you laugh, that’s probably the easiest reward he could’ve asked for and you see the corners of his eyes crinkle as he sees your laughter.
“Hardly a difficult reward, Marcus,” you smile at him and he gives you a warm smile back, “But what if I guess right, what’s my reward then?”
“If you guess right, you get to take me on a second date,” he grins and you feel little happy bubbles in your chest as his soft eyes stay locked with yours, you can’t help but smile widely back at him.
“Deal, Marcus,” you say, holding out your hand to him. He leans forward and takes it, his large hand enveloping yours, thick fingers gently closing around yours as you both shake on it.
“I can smell chocolate,” he grins, glancing at the kitchen, “I think you’re on the right track.”
“I know you, Marcus,” you laugh, “all serious business suits on the outside, but a wild child on the inside, bass player and all.”
“Hardly the definition of a ‘wild child’,” Marcus chuckles, “now, if I’d been lead singer or lead guitar, then maybe.”
“Well, the dessert is only a little bit of a wild child, the defining factor is that at its heart, it’s very romantic, just like you.”
Marcus gives you a slightly embarrassed smile, “It’s that obvious, huh?”
“That you’re a romantic? Of course, but I like it,” you smile softly back at him, turning off the timer that’s just gone off, “Moment of truth. Did I guess right or not?”
“Doesn’t matter, I’m getting a second date either way,” he says, winking at you as you stand up and head to the kitchen.
Pulling them out of the oven you quickly plate the dessert and scoop up the vanilla ice cream, finishing with a light dusting of cocoa. Your hip bumps open the door to the shop and Marcus watches you eagerly as you bring the plates over and set them down on the table.
“If this is what I think it is, you’ve got yourself a second date,” he jokes and grins up at you.
“That’s not helpful, Marcus,” you laugh, “either way, you’ve got yourself a second date.”
“I know, that’s the beauty of this deal,” he chuckles, picking up his dessert spoon and looking at you expectantly, “Can I guess?”
“Sure, go ahead,” you smile and he pokes the dessert lightly.
“Chocolate fondant?” he asks, looking up at you, raising his eyebrows, before he digs the spoon in and cuts it open. The soft chocolate cake exterior gives way to a thick river of chocolate that pours out of the interior of the little cake. Marcus giggles and scoops up a bite of both cake and sauce and puts the spoon in his mouth, humming at the flavor and closing his eyes. You watch with pride as he tips his head back and moans, the spoon still in his mouth as he sucks it clean.
“How did you know?” he asks, a bright smile on his face when he’s finally done with his first bite.
You shrug and smile back at him, “You’re not a health freak, you didn’t recognise the more complicated French pastry, you like gooey brownies and you’re a romantic. Chocolate fondant seemed like the obvious choice. Decadent, sweet and just the right amount of fancy,” you grin at him.
You take a spoonful from your own fondant and put it in your mouth, watching the chocolate flow out from the inside, just the right amount of undercooked to keep the inside flowing and warm. The chocolate flavor spreads across your tongue, paired with a hint of vanilla and salt, rich and warm and you let an involuntary moan escape. When you glance up you don’t miss the dark look Marcus gives you, his eyes fixed on your mouth as he takes another spoonful.
“You really guessed right, I love chocolate fondant, but I’ve never had one this good before,” he says, humming around the big piece in his mouth. “How come you don’t have them in the shop? Actually, don’t have them in the shop, I’d buy them all every week.”
You giggle at his blissed out face as he takes another big bite, dropping his head into the palm of his hand as he sucks the spoon clean, “It’s like hot chocolate, brownie and chocolate sauce all in one fluffy soft shell of cake.”
“I’m glad I guessed right, seeing your happy face makes me happy,” you smile at him and the tips of his ears go a pink in the dim light as he clears his throat and chuckles.
“Coming to your bakery makes me happy,” he smiles, scraping the last bit of fondant from the plate while he looks up at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners and it’s your time to feel the heat rise in your face, his grin widens as he sees you shift awkwardly in your chair and glance at him with a smile.
“Really, getting my morning coffee has become the highlight of my day,” Marcus says, “How sad isn’t that?”
“Not sad, you coming into the bakery every morning has been the highlight of my day,” you say, finishing off the fondant and putting the spoon down while Marcus watches you with a smile. He suddenly pushes his chair back and stands up, holding his hand out to you.
“Dance with me,” he says, the warmth of his hand spreading across your palm and down your arm as he pulls you to your feet.
“There’s no music, Marcus,” you laugh but he just grins and spins you around before catching you in his arms, one around your waist, the other still holding on to your hand as you put your own hand on his shoulder.
“Who cares about the music,” he says, gently swaying you back and forth while he gives you a soft smile, “it was just a clever ruse to get to hold you.” His hand on the small of your back is lightly stroking the fabric of your shirt and you’re very close to him, pressed up against his chest as he holds you near, moving slowly in a circle. You can smell his aftershave, mixed in with the dark chocolate of the dessert and without thinking, your hand slips into the soft looking curls at the back of his neck. Marcus tilts his head as your fingers play with the silky strands, letting go of your hand and moving it slowly to cup your face, his thumb stroking the soft skin on your cheek as he seems to inhale slightly and dip his head to yours.
His lips are just as soft as you’ve imagined them, warm, gentle, as he parts them and tastes you. His steady hand holds you close, the curve of his strong nose brushing up against your cheek as he angles his head to better kiss you. You feel your fingers gripping his hair, willing him to press you even closer to him. All of his warm, solid body is pressed up against yours, his hand at the small of your back sliding up to hold you closer to him, your own hand gripping his shoulder, steadying yourself as you feel like melting into his touch.
He’s still swaying the two of you gently, your lips moving slowly together, tasting the chocolate on each other's tongues. Heat is creeping through your body, wrapping around you, as you feel him tighten his hold on you, his breath skating over your lips as he exhales, a quiet groan leaving his throat.
“You taste so sweet, even sweeter than the dessert,” he mumbles, his mouth close to yours, “I never want to stop kissing you.”
You stand on your tiptoes to reach more of him, your hand around his neck, and part your lips for him, letting his tongue lick into your mouth with more fervor. He also tastes sweet and the way he pulls you closer as you steady yourself against his chest makes you moan under his increasingly heated kisses. He’s not swaying you anymore, instead he lets you melt into his body, his arm holding you up, as he bends his head, another groan slipping from him as he feels your tongue slip around his own.
Marcus’s kisses make you forget the time, where you are, and not until he pulls away with a sigh, do you open your eyes and look up at him. His eyes are dark, filled with lust, and it’s mirrored in the way his body feels against yours, his arousal a clear presence between you. And you can feel your own fill your core with heat, a slow shiver as you touch upon the thought of having him even closer.
Marcus keeps his eyes locked on you, his warm hand gently stroking your cheek as he seems to take a deep breath, composing himself. Your fingers are still toying with the impossibly soft curls at the back of his neck, letting them slip through your fingers, and you feel like you might drown in his dark brown eyes if he doesn’t release you soon.
“Is it too soon to ask for a second date tomorrow?” he whispers, his eyes dropping down to your lips again, and then back to your eyes as you shake your head.
“No, tomorrow sounds like a very good idea,” you mumble, slightly hazy from the way his hands never stop touching you, warming your body and sending shivers to your core.
“Ok,” he mumbles back, “can I kiss you again?”
“If you do, we might not get out of here tonight, Marcus,” you smile at him and he chuckles, nodding and pulling back a little.
“You’re very right, maybe it’s best to save more kisses for tomorrow.”
“I look forward to them though,” you say, letting your fingers slip from his hair and down over his shoulder, caressing his arm, his wrist, and finally his hand. He takes your hand then, enveloping it in his larger one, and brings it to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss to it.
“Tomorrow then,” he smiles.
Part Eight
@harriedandharassed @inept-the-magnificent @sheepdogchick3 @readingiskeepingmegoing @noisynightmarepoetry @survivingandenduring @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @oberynslady @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @thewiigers
#pedro pascal character fanfiction#marcus pike fluff#marcus pike#marcus pike x female reader#marcus pike x you#marcus pike x ofc#marcus pike x reader#a baker’s dozen
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As You Wish, Chapter 11
Summary: When arriving at Camp Silver Star, Abby Floyd was anticipating a summer of adventure with an ocean separating her from the three people she loved most: her mom, her Uncle Bob and her Aunt Natasha. But after a run in with Charlie Seresin, an extremely familiar looking and irritating camper in a different cabin, her summer plans take a turn that neither girl ever could have expected.
Trigger Warnings: reader's children are described as being blond with green eyes because genetics are wild and Jake's genes are strong, reader is canonically Bob's sister (but biological relation is never discussed), reader goes by Buttercup and is tattooed, angst, arguing, sadness, reference to divorce, kids doing sneaky things, references to babies, swearing, references to military deployment, blood, medical inaccuracy, military inaccuracy
Jake’s Apartment, 11 Years Ago
“Don’t go,” Buttercup begged, standing in the doorway of the bedroom. “I thought you weren’t supposed to get deployed again for like a year.”
Jake shrugged as he packed his bag. “Something came up, and they need the best of the best. So, they’re sendin’ me, Javy, Rooster, Bob and Phoenix.”
Buttercup cupped her small bump, her ring finger glinting with the wedding ring he had put there only two weeks previous. The wedding had been a surprise, a shotgun wedding in the typical sense of the word, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. The love of his life was pregnant, with twins, and was now Mrs. Seresin. Everything was coming up roses for Jake Seresin, and he was living for it. But the newly minted Mrs. Seresin…
“When will you be back?” she asked, her hand stroking her belly nervously.
Jake huffed a laugh. “That’s above my paygrade, sweetness.”
“I’m serious, Jake,” she swallowed. “Will you be back before the babies come?”
Jake paused. She was five months pregnant with twins, and everyone kept telling him that twins always came early. Would he be back in four months? It was impossible to say.
He turned towards her, smiling as softly as he could as he took her into his arms. “You’ll have Penny. And Mav and Payback and Fanboy and everyone else. It’ll be okay.”
She shoved out of his arms and stalked over to the bedroom window. “I don’t want everyone else. I want you. My husband. The father of my children. That’s who I want with me as I get all huge and can’t shave my legs and when I have to get poked and prodded at my appointments. Not a bunch of strangers. I want you.”
“I want you too,” he waggled his eyebrows at her, but didn’t get the giggling response he hoped for.
“I came here to visit my brother, but I stayed for you,” she murmured. “And now you’re both leaving and I’m going to be stuck here, useless.”
“Not useless,” he soothed, trying again to hold her. “You’re growing our babies. And if you ever feel like you need more, you could always go help Penny with the bar. But you don’t have to worry about anything, okay? I’m sending every paycheck home to you. The apartment is paid off completely, and the utilities come out of my bank account automatically. It’ll be okay.”
Buttercup swiped at her eyes and sidestepped him. “You don’t get it.”
“Then explain it to me, babe. Because I’m leaving in less than 36 hours and I’d like to know that my pregnant wife will be waiting for me when I get back,” he huffed.
“Of course I’ll be here!” she snapped. “I would never do that to you. But you’re fine with leaving me.”
Jake sighed and slowly walked over to her, hesitating only momentarily before placing his hands on her shoulders.
“I’m not fine with leaving you,” he whispered. “I feel like a fox caught in a trap, ready and willing to gnaw my own foot off if it meant the Navy wouldn’t own my ass anymore. But I can’t.” He let his hands glide down her body to rest on her small bump. “I don’t want to miss a second of this but I know I will. What I won’t miss is the birth. I swear to God. I’ll make sure I come home before they even think of coming out of their mama.” He pressed a sweet kiss to her cheek. “I’ll talk to Mav. He still has some sway over Cyclone. He can make sure I’m home, and that I don’t get deployed once they arrive. Not for a while, at least.”
He felt Buttercup shudder against him and was thankful that, this time, she allowed him to pull her into his arms. “And you’ll be safe? You’ll come home?”
Jake sighed and did the one thing he’d always sworn to himself that he would never do. “I promise, baby. I swear to God that I’m comin’ home to you.”
Cabana Bar, Hotel Zaza, Now
Jake held them for what felt like hours, until one of the girls started to squirm and try to pull away from the embrace.
“Dad…you’re soaking wet.”
Jake chuckled a little as he pulled away, stretching to his full height. “Sorry. I just missed you both so much.” He nodded his thanks to a helpful staff member, who handed him a fluffy white towel. “How…how are you here?” He blinked down at them. “You said something about a switch?”
The girls shuffled their feet nervously, but it was Buttercup who stepped forward. “You’re bleeding,” she murmured, gesturing to his soaking white shirt. Jake glanced down, noting the tear in his shirt and the red that was now staining it. Buttercup bit her lip, stepping closer. “What happened?”
Jake looked over at the bartender, who was shooting daggers at the lot of them, surrounded by shattered glass. “He stepped into my path and the deck was too slippery for me to course correct in time, so I bumped into him. I guess I took a few glasses to the chest as they shattered.”
Buttercup clocked the glares of the bartender too because she said, “Let’s go get you cleaned up. Then our daughters can explain themselves to you.”
Jake nodded, just as a shrill voice sounded behind him. “Oh my goodness, there’s two of them?”
Jake turned, finding Savannah clutching her chest, an older man and woman flanking her. “Savannah, meet my daughters. Abby and Charlie. And this…” Jake glanced at Buttercup with a look that was heavy with guilt. “This is my ex-wife. Their mother.”
Savannah gasped and leaned heavily against her father. “It’s alright, pookie,” the older southern gentleman soothed, his elegant wife fetching a fan from her clutch and waving it over her daughter’s wan face. “Let’s get you some air and some sweet tea to get you feeling better.” He gathered Savannah into his arms and gave them a reproachful look before striding off, his wife teetering behind him in her heels.
Jake couldn’t help the groan that escaped him. “Great…”
One of the girls bit their lip. “Sorry, dad.”
Jake shook off the weight of Colonel Beaumont’s glare and smiled down at her. “It’s alright. I’ll deal with it later.” He looked up and met Buttercup’s bright gaze. “You sure it’s alright if you patch me up?”
She rolled her eyes and headed towards the door. “I wouldn’t have offered if I minded, Hangman.”
Jake grinned and followed behind her, each of his strong hands resting on the shoulders of his daughters.
As Buttercup called down to the concierge to ask for a first aid kit, Jake settled onto her bed (and refused to think any further on that subject) while the girls stood in front of him and quickly explained everything.
The camp, Penny’s meddling, switching places, Rooster finding out, Bob finding out, their phone call to each other, their plan to corner them both here and make them talk to each other.
By the time they ran out of words, there was a knock on the door and Buttercup moved towards it, greeting the staff member who handed her the large white first aid kit. All the while, Jake gaped at his daughters.
“Well, hell…” he finally found it in himself to murmur. “That was some sneaky crap you two pulled.”
“Language,” Buttercup murmured softly, a small smile breaking out on Jake’s face.
“Sorry, darlin’,” he nodded as she laid out the first aid kit on the bed next to him. “I’m just saying, why didn’t either of you pony up and talk to us?”
“We were going to,” one of them started, a slight lilting accent to her voice, and Jake knew that was his Abby. They really were so identical (and Jake wasn’t ashamed to admit that he had no clue what his daughter had been wearing before she left the house that day or if she had changed when they got to the hotel), so he was having a hard time telling them apart when they weren’t speaking. “But we got scared.”
“You were both so sad whenever we brought up our missing parent, and we didn’t want to make you sad,” said Charlie, her young voice twanging.
“But when we met—”
“We really wanted to meet our other parent—”
“And we decided to ask forgiveness instead of permission.”
Jake shook his head in wonder. “I don’t know how you two pulled it off, but I’m impressed. Don’t ever do something like that again, but I’m impressed.”
Both girls blushed and nodded, both looking so much like him that he had to give his head a shake. They were incredible. They were his. And they were here. All three of them were.
As that thought raced across his mind like an off-leash dog, he glanced up at Buttercup, still standing before him, now with a fluffy white robe wrapped around her overtop of her soaked clothes.
“Why don’t you two go find your aunt and uncles?” he suggested, not taking his eyes off his ex.
Glancing between them, the two girls nodded and headed for the door, calling their goodbyes over their shoulders.
“Don’t forget your room keys,” Buttercup called after them, her eyes not leaving his either.
Once they heard the door click shut, both adults sighed.
“I…I guess you should take your shirt off,” Buttercup mumbled, staring at the spot on his white shirt that was slowly growing redder.
“Didn’t realize you were so eager to get me out of my clothes, Buttercup,” Jake quipped with a smirk, his hands going for the tiny pearlescent buttons. “I’m flattered.”
“Don’t call me that,” she gritted between her teeth, eyes casting downward toward the first aid kit.
“Why not?” he challenged, his hands stilling.
“Because I’m not…”
“Not what?”
She met his gaze again and he was taken aback by the fire blazing in them. “Because I’m not yours anymore.”
His whole body stilled. It was true, what she had said. She wasn’t his. Not anymore. They had a decade of memories separating them now. Separate lives. Lives that only included a daughter that shared half his DNA and half hers. He’d hated the custody arrangement, they both had, but it was the only thing that made sense with their schedules and Buttercup’s health. And now, there she was. Eyes burning at him in a way that he hadn’t seen since before the birth of their daughters. At least one thing had gone right in their divorce. His Buttercup was back and more fierce than ever.
“I know that,” he said quietly. “But you still have your tattoo, don’t you?” His eyes traced the stem of buttercup blossoms that peeked out from under her white robe. “Bob and Natasha still call you Buttercup?” She nodded. “Then I don’t see why I can’t.”
“B-because…because you’re you,” her chest heaved slightly, as though she was desperate for air. Jake stood and opened the hotel window slightly, allowing the fresh breeze to rustle the leaves of the fake fern in the corner. She blinked, staring at him as her breathing almost immediately came easier to her. “I don’t think your fiancée would like it if you were still calling your ex-wife by a pet name,” she mused, striding forward to grab the disinfectant from the kit.
“Savannah can deal with it,” he muttered, already knowing he was in for one hell of an argument when he met up with his fiancée and future in-laws later.
“You sure she’s mature enough for that?” Buttercup muttered under her breath, gesturing for him to continue unbuttoning his shirt.
He chuckled shortly, peeling his wet shirt off his tan skin. “Jealous?”
“Of you being engaged? No. Of how little time she has to spend scrolling to find her birth year? Maybe a little.”
Jake chuckled again, the sound warm and soothing. “I am sometimes too, I think. She doesn’t have to search long, meanwhile I feel like I’m spinning the wheel on the Price is Right or some shit.”
Buttercup giggled in spite of herself. “At least you finally found someone at your maturity level.” She leaned in and pressed a cotton swab soaked in antiseptic to the thin line that bisected his pec.
“Low blow, sweetheart,” he hissed.
Buttercup muttered a half-hearted apology as she found another cut, not bleeding but crusted over with dried blood and a small piece of glass.
“What do you two even talk about?” she pondered as she grabbed the tweezers, steadying herself against his abs, still hard and defined after all those years.
Jake sighed, bracing himself for the inevitable discomfort of having the nearly superficial wound poked and prodded, but it never came. As always, his Buttercup’s hands were soft and gentle with him.
“You really want to have this conversation?” he asked softly.
She blinked up at him, her eyes wide and earnest. “Would you rather we fight?”
“Why do those have to be our only options?”
Her steady hands grabbed the bandages and she carefully started to cover up the two wounds on his chest.
“Fighting was basically our only option there for a while,” she murmured, her body so close to his that he could practically feel her cool breath against his skin.
“I didn’t want it to be that way.” He craned his neck, trying to make eye contact, but her gaze remained firmly on her work. “I always hated it when we fought.”
She sighed as she made sure the soft gauze bandages were tight against his skin, her touch lingering slightly inches away from where his heart beat under his skin, before she sat back on her heels. “Me too. But—” she slapped her hands against her robed thighs before pushing herself to her feet again. “That’s all in the past. You’re getting married and I adore my job in the UK. The only thing we need to fight about now is how we’re going to split up the girls.”
Jake blinked at her. “You…you want to split them up again? What the hell, Buttercup? They just told us that they wanted a better custody arrangement.”
Buttercup flinched and took a step back from him. “I’m sorry. I…I didn’t mean it like that. I meant that we need to figure out how to split our time with them so that it’s fair. Should be easier now that you’re not in the Navy anymore.”
He felt his temper flare slightly in his chest, but he fought to hold that mask of calm on his face. “It would probably be even easier if you didn’t live on the other side of the planet.”
Her back stiffened and her face solidified into a mask of emotionless stone. “Indeed it would, but I love my job and I could no more give it up than you could give up your ranch in Texas.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he kept her gaze, slowly raising from his spot on the bed. “No one is asking you to give up your job, only to move. It’s a lot easier to move as a writer and publisher than it is to move a whole damn ranch.”
“Author.” At Jake’s blink, her icy voice sounded again. “I’m an author, Jake. Not a writer. And no one is asking you to move the ranch. I would never ask something like that of you.”
Jake stepped closer, the two of them nearly nose to nose. “I know you wouldn’t. You’d let it all go before you asked me for anything.”
This time he did feel her breath puffing against his face, the air hot against his skin. “I learned a long time ago that asking you for something would only lead to disappointment.”
“You know it wasn’t that easy,” he bit out, stepping even closer, his hands coming up to brace against the wall as she stepped back to lean into it, lean as far as she could out of his space. “What you were asking me for was—”
“Impossible,” she whispered. “I know. And now you know that what you’re asking me for is impossible too.”
“Even if it’s for our daughters?”
The question hung in the mere inches of air between them like a gas, a burning, toxic, intangible thing that was slowly choking them both.
In the silence, he couldn’t help but trace her features with his eyes, and he knew from her unfocused stare that she was doing the same to him. He may be older than he had been when they met, but he knew he still looked good. Got confirmation of it every time he went into town and saw the local ladies. But Buttercup…she looked even better than she had when they were together. The beauty of her youth hadn’t dimmed with age, but only settled into something that spoke of wisdom and loss and pain and rebirth, a shining fire within her. Like a—
“Phoenix!”
Both their heads whipped around as Rooster berated Phoenix for slamming the door open and strolling in like she owned the place. Jake stepped back like he’d been burned, and Buttercup took his momentary distraction as a means of escape, ducking below the arm that had been keeping her caged against the wall and moving back towards the bed. She calmly gathered the discarded materials from the first aid kit and threw them into the wastebasket next to the small hotel room desk.
Buttercup glanced around, her hands busy repacking the white kit, when she spotted her daughters among the crowd of those who were her family, and those who used to be.
“Couldn’t you two pick something a little less identical?” she teased, taking in the matching black and turquoise t-shirts the girls were wearing.
“No, that’s the point,” they replied, in perfect unison.
Buttercup stilled, her fingers hesitating at the latch of the case. “What do you mean?”
Rooster nudged past them, clapping Jake on the back as he strode toward the mini fridge. “They heard you arguing in the hallway,” he whispered in his ear.
Shit. The last thing he wanted was for the girls to hear them arguing, and, based on the look on Buttercup’s face as Bob whispered in her ear, he knew she was thinking the same thing.
“I’m sorry you heard us fighting,” Jake stepped in. “Your mom and I…we’ll work out a custody arrangement that leaves everyone happy. I promise. Divorced couples do it all the time.”
“Yes, well…we want to be sure,” said the twin with the Texan twang in her voice.
“Charlie, what’re you talkin’ about?”
The other twin blinked at him. “But Dad, I’m Charlie.”
Shit again.
Buttercup suddenly stood beside him. “Abby, Charlie, stop fussing about.”
“We’re not fussing about, Mum.”
“Of course we’re not, Mum.”
Buttercup groaned, her hand rising to rub at her eyes in such a familiar way that Jake was tempted to run out and grab her usual migraine relief items.
“Girls, please stop messing around,” Jake begged instead.
“We will.”
“As soon as we go back to the ranch. All of us.”
“Once we’re there, you two can figure out the custody arrangement. Then and only then, we’ll tell you who is who.”
“And you two came up with this scheme all on your own, huh?” Jake crossed his arms, his chest stinging slightly as the bandage pulled tight. His eyes scanned the gallery of adults around the room. His friends, his family, all looked away from him, Javy looking all too interested in the piece of hotel artwork that decorated the wall.
“Girls, please,” Buttercup whispered, crouching down to look them in the eye. “This isn’t fair and you know it. We promise that we’ll figure out a schedule, but we all have to go home. To our own homes.”
“Auntie Nat already called your publisher and said that you were extending your holiday,” one of the twins shrugged. “And Uncle Rooster said that Dad doesn’t have anything to do this week outside of the ranch business.”
“Other than groveling with my in-laws,” Jake muttered.
“Speaking of…wouldn’t this be best anyway, Dad?” the other twin blinked up innocently at him. “This way our stepmother can get to know both of us. Build bridges and heal old wounds and that kind of thing.”
Jake groaned and ran a hand over his face before crouching down, green eyes scanning their features. He could’ve sworn the one on the left was Charlie, but had her hair always been parted like that? And the one on the right kept switching into a damn convincing Texan twang. But the one on the left seemed to be favoring her left leg, which would track with some of the injuries that Charlie had collected over the years on the ranch. But then the twin on the right started favouring her left leg too, and Jake sighed.
“I can’t tell,” he whispered to Buttercup, who looked horrified.
“Neither can I,” she nearly whimpered. “What kind of mother doesn’t know her own children?”
“The kind of mother who taught her children never to give up without a fight,” the twin on the right piped up, smiling brightly at them. “Just one week, Mum. One week at the ranch. We can go on the annual trail ride with Dad, and you can work on your book. You said the flat in London was stifling your creativity anyway. At the end of the week, when you’ve got a schedule for custody, then we’ll tell you who is who and we can all go home. One week. Please?”
“Please, Mum?”
Buttercup groaned and rubbed her eyes. “Fine. But whichever one of you is Abby is losing her allowance for a week for pulling another one of these stunts on me.”
“Same goes for Charlie,” Jake grumbled, his pointer finger drifting between them. “And you two!” Jake turned his finger on Rooster and Javy. “You’ll have to step up and split my ranch responsibilities between you. Y’know, since I’m going to be so busy with my daughters and figuring out a schedule.”
Maybe it wasn’t fair, but Jake had no doubt that his two best friends had something to do with his daughters’ newest scheme.
“I’ll call the ranch and get the house ready for everyone,” Jake offered. “We’ve got more than enough room for the four of you.”
“No need,” Bob piped up. “I’ll be flying back tonight.”
“And I’m going with him,” Phoenix added, shooting a look in Javy’s direction. To Javy’s credit, he didn’t flinch at all.
“Like hell you are,” Buttercup hissed. “You two got me into this mess, so you’re going down with me.”
Bob’s cheeks reddened and Nat looked like she had something to say, but with one more meaningful look from Buttercup, they both nodded.
“Alright then,” Jake sighed. “I guess we’re all heading to the ranch. God help us all.”
Tags List: @jessicab1991 @waltermis @buckysteveloki-me @allepaula @yuckosworld @bradshawssugarbaby @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @kim-stark @high-speed-r @starsrfun @tomanyfandomstrash @averyhotchner @the-blueatlas @dashes-dizzydisaster @a-girl-who-loves-disney @boiolay @djs8891 @tgmreader @kmc1989 @landpiranha-blog @sydthekid1518 @lynnevanss @mackenzieblair @minejungwoo @starset21 @tgmavericklover @dempy @starkleila @magical-spit @whatislovevavy @simplyreading96 @vivalas-vega @itsdesiree86 @inky-sun @books-are-escapes @abaker74 @mrs-perfectly-fine @inthestars-underthesun @boisewaffles
#jake seresin x reader#glen powell#top gun maverick#jake seresin#as you wish fic#parent trap au#top gun fanfiction#jake hangman seresin#jake hangman fic
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Are you ready for my dirty request?! I couldn’t stop thinking about that mirror fic you wrote I wanna request a part ii for it.
Imagine this, reader and Javi P have been going at it all night, they’re hot and sweaty.
Javi P has reader sitting between his legs and they are seated on the edge of the bed, mirror across them while he fingers her. He loves seeing how fucked out she is and how his fingers disappear in her. He wants her hands placed on his thighs but she keeps reaching for his hands to stop him because she’s overstimulated so he tells her “You keep your hands where they are or i’ll tie them up”. Maybe he makes her ride him after since he couldn’t get enough of her moans and loves it when he gives her tons of orgasms. Neck kisses and whispering dirty things to her
Please I need your writing magic, Charlie!
I DON'T KNOW WHO YOU ARE ANON BUT GOD BLESS YOU FOR THIS. I saw this whilst I was working yesterday and let me tell you I have thought of NOTHING ELSE SINCE. So here you go, I hope I worked my magic for you!
Pairing | Javier Peña x Female Reader
Word Count | 1.2K
Warnings | Pure smut below the cut. Fingering, squirting, overstimulation, unprotected PiV sex, dirty talking, THE RETURN OF THE MIRROR.
This is written as a companion piece to this one-shot but you don't have to read it to understand what this is. Because let's be honest this is porn without plot.
Main Masterlist
You would say that you’re not sure how you got to the position you’re currently in, sat between Javier’s thighs with his cock pressed against your back as his fingers disappear inside of you, but that would be entirely untrue. You knew exactly how you’d got here.
It had been a week since Javier had insisted on dragging you with shaking legs in front of his mirror and thoroughly fucking you and since then he’d become obsessed with it. Obsessed with how you thrived on watching yourself when he was eating your pussy, thrived on the throaty giggles you let you when he took you from behind and wrapped a hand around your throat for good measure. Tonight, he was obsessed with the intensity of your eyes on his in the mirror as his fingers disappeared into your soaking pussy, his other hand splayed across your tummy to keep you in place.
There’s sweat dripping off you, the Colombian heat is stifling, even with the window open to let in a breeze. You mentally apologise to anyone walking the street below or anyone in the adjoining apartments for the noise they’ve clearly heard Javi pulling from you for hours. Your back is pressed so tightly against him that you can’t move, no matter how much you want to squirm away because it’s too much. You’ve lost count of how many orgasms he’s pulled out of you tonight and it hurts. But there’s something about the way white spots burst behind your closed eyes in the moment before you come undone that’s addictive, you don’t want him to stop, not really.
The edge of Javi’s bed is digging into the back of your thighs, and if it wasn’t for his hand on your abdomen, you’d crumple off the edge into a heap. His breath is hot on your ear as he presses wet kisses behind it, and you can feel small beads of his pre-cum mixing with the sweat pooling at your lower back. His hand drops slowly, and he starts to circle your clit.
“Fuck, Javi,” You mewl, “I can’t, I can’t anymore, it’s… fuck… it’s too much.”
Your hand moves to his on your clit to try and push it away, his teeth sink into the skin of your shoulder, harder than usual, enough that a hiss of pain drops from your lips, “You want me to stop, hermosa?” He asks in a growl, “Because I think you can, I think you can give me another.”
Your hands are still scrabbling to try and pull his from your pussy, “Go on, let me try,” His whispers, pricking goosebumps on your skin, “Hands on my thighs, promise I’ll make you feel good.”
You decide to let him try, placing each of your hands on his thighs, digging your nails into the skin as you watch his fingers disappear into your pussy in the mirror and his middle finger rubs light circles around your clit. You wait as long as you can bare it, but it really is too much, your hands are moving again to try and get away from him.
“You keep your hands where they are, or I’ll tie them up.”
You know it’s not an empty threat. Your mind wanders to the time, a few months back, where he’d handcuffed you to the headboard and spent an hour between your legs, pulling four orgasms from you with his mouth. Whilst it had been thrilling, there’s no way you could do that tonight. You do as you’re told and put your hands back on his thighs. You tip your head onto his shoulder and close your eyes, but he’s pushes you forward with his shoulder.
“Eyes on the mirror, querida, look at me whilst I fuck your pussy with my fingers.”
Your eyes meet his own in the glass and you swear it brings you closer to the edge. His brow is furrowed but there’s an almost sadistic smirk across his lips and a darkness to his eyes that you’re used to now, it’s the look he gives you when he knows he’s pushing you, pushing his luck, but he just can’t ever get enough of what you sound like screaming his name and arching into him, or away from him depending on the position, when he makes you cum.
“You like it, don’t you, mi pequeño diablo,” His fingers curl inside you and the finger on your clit presses harder, rubs faster, “You like it when it hurts, when I push you?”
“Yes… ohmygod,” You moan and push yourself further down onto his fingers, “You know I love it.”
He chuckles behind you, “I just like hearing you say it,” He lets out a moan of his own when you grind in a particular way against him that has you brushing up against his cock, “I can feel you getting tight, you’re going to cum aren’t you?”
You nod your head and close your eyes; this time he lets you keep them firmly closed as he continues what he’s doing. You can feel it in your lower belly, and you clench down, his name is falling from your lips a mile a minute, javijavijavi, and then it’s crashing into you. His fingers are working you through the aftershocks and he’s laughing, he’s actually laughing at you.
“I can’t Javi, it’s too much,” He speaks into your ear, mocking your words from earlier, “Look down and see what you did, chica preciosa.”
You open your eyes and look down, and low and behold, his hand is soaked, and you can see the carpet between your feet darkening, did you? Did you just squirt?!
“You’ve gotta have a little faith in yourself.” He whispers into your ear.
He’s gathering his arms around your waist and pulling you back onto the bed. He’s led himself down and turned you around, although you’re not quite sure how, your brain understandably focusing on nothing else but the truly fucked out feeling he’s caused.
“Sink down onto my cock, hermosa.”
He’s filthy and you fucking love it. Your legs are jelly and you’re not quite sure you have the power to last long like this, but you do as you’re told, throwing your head back as he sinks into you for the third time that night, filling you up perfectly.
His hands are on your hips, gripping hard enough that you’re sure there will be bruises in the shape of his thumbs there tomorrow. He’s guiding your hips to grind on his cock and although you’re sore, the friction is delicious. He’s groaning your name, thrusting up into your every now and again. You know he’s not going to last much longer, and neither are you. There’s a burning in your thighs that’s threatening to cramp, and your chest is tight from lack of air.
“Fucking hell, querida, keep going, you’re gonna make me cum.”
You smirk down at him, picking up the pace with the grinding of your hips, your hands coming up to your tits to massage them. You pull at your nipples, mewling at the sensation and with moment it’s all over. Javi is sat upright, arms wrapped around your back with his head buried in your chest as you feel him spill inside of you, cum painting every inch of your walls. He’s breathing your name and kissing any inch of skin he can reach with his mouth until he’s falling back with you, wrapping you up in his arms.
“I think we need to get rid of the mirror.” You mumble, exhaustion settling into your bones.
“You don’t mean that, querida, I know you love it just as much as I do.”
#Pedro Pascal#Javier Peña#Javier Peña smut#Javier Peña fic#Javier Peña fanfic#Javier Peña fan fiction#Javier Peña x you#Javier Peña x reader#Javier Peña x female reader#Javier Peña x f!reader#narcos fic#narcos smut#Javier Peña Pedro Pascal#jp drabbles
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Learning to Live Part 29
summary: On your last day in Miami, Javier and you are tasked with babysitting the Murphy kids while their parents get some much needed alone time out of the house.
Back at home, it’s Javier’s birthday, and the two of you are on your way to meet Chucho for dinner when you run into someone who doesn’t know how to keep their stupid mouth shut.
rating: E (18+!! No y/n, alternating POV, age gap (about ten years), consensual somnophilia, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), creampie, breeding kink, semi-public sex, thigh riding, dirty talk, domestic fluff, babysitting, Javier being cute with kids, birthday celebration, death of a parent/grief, emotional hurt/comfort, Protective!Javier, Protective!Reader, verbal altercation, insults, not Lorraine friendly, small town drama, Chucho being the best father)
pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader
word count: 19.6k+
a/n: There’s something in this chapter we’ve been waiting for. Because the chapter is so long, it might not let you reblog with a comment. Since reblogs are important you’re more than welcome to reblog without a comment and then if you’d like to say something, you can either comment on the post or send me an ask. Unbeta’d because I wanted to post it this week, so all mistakes are mine. Thank you to @juletheghoul for making sure the Spanish makes sense!
Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to know what you thought!
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It was warm, almost too warm, with the blankets over you and your human furnace of a bedmate cuddled at your back—his arm was draped over your middle with a hand up your shirt to hold your breast. The hazy dreamscape your mind had conjured was a beach you’d been to growing up with a giant sea stack in the ocean that rose over two hundred feet and was like a tiny rock mountain that you could walk right up to during low tide. As you strolled along the shore, ahead of you was a child who’d barely learned to walk with big, familiar, chocolate-colored eyes and messy brown hair in a shade you knew all too well, toddling beside a man you could recognize simply from the shape of his back, the broad shoulders down to the trim waist.
Their tiny arm was raised above their head while he was leaning a little to hold the small outstretched hand, his head turning with a smile to look at them with all of the love in the world—a baby’s cries sounded, and it had you worrying something was wrong with the toddler. Suddenly, everything in front of you disappeared, the fogginess of sleep dissipating as you were brought to by the noises coming from a baby monitor nearby that continued to worry you.
The arm around you tightened, and lips kissed the back of your head.
"I'll get him," Javi's voice was deeper and rougher from sleep. He kissed your head once more before moving to get out of the bed, hearing him groan and his knees pop as he stood from the mattress that was on the floor.
A sleepy smile appeared on your face as you thought about what a good father and husband he was—there wasn’t any annoyance in his tone, and he didn’t sound put out. He was happy to check on the baby and let you get some rest. You were lucky to have such a great partner who cared so much and took an active role in being a parent.
He was a keeper.
He was perfect.
There wasn’t anyone else you’d want to have a child with.
You were so happy your baby had such a wonderful father.
Your baby—wait, what was their name?
Why were you drawing a blank?
How could you forget your kid’s name?
Oh god, you were a horrible mother.
Hold on.
The cogs in your brain were turning now that the dreamy haze had lifted.
You didn't have a baby.
Javi wasn't your husband… yet.
You were at the Murphys, and the toddler crying was their one-year-old, Nate. Your fiancé had volunteered you both to take care of Steve and Connie’s three kids while they had a much-needed night alone at a hotel.
Throwing back the blankets, you moved to get up from the bed, it only taking you a moment to find your sleep shorts on the floor, you pulled on over your bare lower half and made your way barefooted out of the room.
Why were you getting up when Javi told you to keep sleeping? Why did you feel the need to go peek into the room he was in? You weren't entirely sure, your feet padding along the cool stone-tiled floor almost of their own accord.
Nate's door was open, and you didn’t hear crying anymore. Stopping at the doorway, you leaned against the wooden frame to take in the scene before you that made you smile.
The room was softly illuminated by a nightlight plugged into the wall near the crib that had the purple dinosaur Barney on it—Javi was just in his jeans, his chest bare, cradling and rocking the one-year-old in his arms and singing so softly it took you a second to recognize the tune.
It was ABBA.
And it was the song he got the 80s cover band at the bar you'd gone to that night to play by tipping them an amount of money he refused to disclose to you.
Your ears had perked and you were able to make out the words.
He was hum-singing it in a pitch a little higher than his usual low timbre:
"Don't go wasting your emotion
Lay all your love on me
Don't go sharing your devotion
Lay all your love on me."
He hadn't noticed there was an audience, and you were enjoying watching him putting the baby back to sleep, Nate's eyes getting droopier and droopier until they were completely shut.
It made you wonder what songs he'd sing to your future kids, imagining some of his mother's favorite Spanish ballads you listened to on the radio and Fleetwood Mac, probably some classic lullabies too, like “Rockabye Baby” and “You Are My Sunshine.”
Javi's head turned your way, his eyes looking tired, but he smiled and kept singing until the song was finished and he was sure the baby was back asleep, moving to gently put him in his crib. That was when you decided to walk into the room, your arms looping around his middle from the side. His arm went behind your back, and he kissed your hair.
"I told you I'd take care of him," he whispered. "You didn't need to get up."
"Oh, I wasn't gonna miss a chance to see a glimpse of my future," you replied just as quietly. "And I’m happy I got up and had the chance to hear you put the baby back to sleep with ABBA—you know, it really gets me going seeing you doing dad stuff, and then you chose that song? Talk about making a girl yearn for the day we have our own babies, and you did an excellent job getting him to fall back asleep."
"I can’t wait for our own babies, too.” He hugged you a little closer to him. “Connie mentioned the last few weeks Nate’s been waking up in the middle of the night with separation anxiety—it's common with babies his age."
Nate turned one the month prior.
"Awe, poor guy."
"Yeah, he's okay now." Javi reached into the crib and pressed his large palm to the child's wild black curls. "Dulces sueños, mi precioso (Sweet dreams, my precious)." He looked at you. "Let's go back to bed, mi amor (my love). The kids will be up early."
Watching him put Nate back to sleep and his gentle care had you going so soft you thought you might turn into a puddle. His last sentence made you smile because one day, he’d say that in regard to your own children—god, you were yearning so hard for your future with him.
"Early to you or early to me?"
If you had the day off, you wanted to sleep until at least nine in the morning. Javi's idea of sleeping in was waking up at six-thirty instead of six because he was a—you hated saying it—a morning person.
"Early to you,” he answered.
"Great, more morning people."
He huffed in amusement and started walking with you out of the room with your hands held, continuing to whisper. "From my experience, young children like to get up early."
You were in the hallway, and he quietly closed Nate's door behind you both. "What I'm hearing is you're volunteering to take mornings with our kids since you'll already be up."
"That was my plan, yes," he said as you returned to the guest room. "Just makes sense."
Once inside, the door was shut and locked, neither of you bothering to turn on the overhead light, instead carefully making your way in the dark to the bed. Javi took off his pants before he crawled onto the mattress naked, and you shimmied out of your shorts as you got under the warm blankets.
He scooted over beneath the covers until his body was spooning yours from behind, his arm going around your shirt-covered tummy, feeling his nose in the hair at the back of your head.
"Why are you wearing this?" he asked, pulling on your t-shirt.
Javi was against wearing clothes to bed, and you found out he even slept in the nude while visiting other people’s houses.
"So, I'm not completely naked if the children wake up and need us,” you said. “All I have to do is get up and put on my bottoms."
The frown was clear in his voice. "The door is locked, and it only takes a second to put it back on—can you take it off for now? Please?"
"Have we discussed how spoiled you are?" you asked as you sat up and started pulling off the apparent bane of Javier's existence—he leaned up and tugged it over your head, tossing it into the dark void of the room.
"I'm not spoiled," he said, cuddling close into you once you laid back down, his arm back over your belly.
"You're incredibly spoiled—you always get what you want, not to mention you basically have pussy on demand. Spoiled."
You didn't have to see his face to know he was smiling. "It just sounds like I'm living the fucking dream. And pot calling the kettle black, Cielito—the same could be said for you, too. I spoil the hell out of you, and you better know my dick is yours whenever you want it." To punctuate the sentence, he ground his hips into your ass.
"Fine, we're both spoiled,” you acquiesced. “But you're needier."
"I'm not needy,” he denied.
"You couldn't go one night in bed without me naked."
"I sleep best being able to feel you."
"Well, you got your wish." You patted his arm around you. "Now, go to sleep, babe. Wake me up when the kids wake up."
He was already falling asleep, his answer an affirmative hum. “Love you,” he mumbled, nuzzling his face into your hair.
“I love you, too.”
It wasn't hard to fall back to sleep, not when your previous two days had started before the sun had risen, and everything that had taken place on the trip—traveling, meeting and spending time with the Murphys, getting engaged, the hours spent fucking in a hotel, going to the beach, almost fighting a woman in a bar. It seemed like you closed your eyes, and not even a minute later, the Sandman was whisking you away to the land of dreams.
An hour passed.
Two.
Three.
Four.
It was deep sleep that had you under its spell, physically keeping your body in the guest room while the dream transported you back home to your living room, where you were alone with Javi on the couch, straddling his lap and lazily kissing him.
Something warm and wet and felt so good it reached you in your foggy dreamscape, had the scene shifting suddenly, where you found yourself on your back, missing the clothes on your lower half, seeing the brown hair of your fiancé’s head buried between your legs.
There were the delicious sensations of tingles racing up your spine and pleasure building in your core as your nipples tightened—a soft moan of his name escaped your lips, the image before you fuzzy around the edges, keeping you on the cusp between asleep and awake.
You were gonna come, your cunt beginning to pulse, and the muscles in your belly coiling, winding tight, Dream Javi’s mouth feeling so real on your clit, licking and sucking on the sensitive bud. Warmth had spread through your veins, your body hot at being so turned on.
His tongue was working its magic, and you weren’t even surprised at how quickly he was getting you close to your end.
The pleasure kept building higher and higher until you hit your peak, and you were coming, the sudden explosion of euphoria coursing out from your center waking you up with a long, shuddering moan, your body tensing, and your heart racing.
Confusion had come over you at being awake and still feeling a wet tongue lapping at your pussy, and it took a second for you to realize your legs were spread with someone between them beneath the covers. It was too dark to see the lump under the blankets, but when you reached, you could feel the hardness of a skull at the apex of your thighs.
“Javi?” It came out as more of a croak.
He hummed in acknowledgment with his lips wrapped around your swollen clit, and your confusion was replaced with burning-hot arousal.
He'd woken you up by going down on you—which was something you'd given him permission to do months ago; you'd given him permission to do a whole lot more to wake you up, but Javier was big on explicit consent, and there were some lines he couldn't bring himself to cross, which was sweet, and showed what a stand-up guy he was.
And you loved that he was a Consent King; however, you happened to be a horny bitch that fantasized about him fucking you awake.
You should mention Javi also gave you permission to wake him up by the same means, and the first time he woke to you slowly riding his dick, he came in record-breaking time.
Him waking you with his mouth on your cunt was kind of a big deal and a testament to the trust you had in each other; plus, it was fucking amazing—forget alarm clocks; you always wanted your mornings to start with orgasms.
"Oh, god," you moaned, pushing the bedding down to uncover your torso and his head, the chill air welcome on your heated skin. "It's so good, Javi." It was wet and slippery between your thighs, your pussy throbbing and feeling achingly empty. Your fingers went into his mess of hair. "Baby, I'm so horny. Can I please have your dick?"
He came off you, moving up your body, his wet lips kissing over the skin of your belly and chest, up the column of your throat to your mouth, smelling your musk in his damp mustache as he kissed you. His hips took their place in the cradle of your thighs, snaking his hand between your bodies to line the tip of his hard cock with your soaked entrance, pushing all the way in with one smooth thrust that stole your breath.
The orgasm had loosened you up, making it easier for your inner walls to stretch and accommodate his girth, easing the empty ache to feel wonderfully full.
He held himself up with his arms beside your head, your hands moving to dig your fingers into his shoulders.
His lips left yours. "Did you like it?" he asked his tone a deep rasp. "Waking up by coming on my tongue?"
He had started slowly moving, his dick sliding almost all of the way out and pushing back in.
"Yes," you gasped.
"You were moaning in your sleep and got so fucking wet." Another orgasm was starting to form in your center.
"Was dreaming about you."
His cock twitched hard inside you. "Shit," he hissed. His pace sped up, hearing the wet sounds of him working in and out of you. He pressed his nose against your cheek, his breaths coming out heavier. "I didn't think it'd turn me on," he said. "But you were so fucking responsive, and when you moaned my name, it got me hard as a fucking rock that you were thinking about me in your sleep, and it made me feel like less of a creep."
Pleasure was curling inside you with every slick slide of him fucking into your cunt, but that last comment cut through your blissful haze.
“I wanted it,” you said. “Do you like it when you wake up to me blowing you or riding your dick?”
A loud, ragged groan pulled from his throat. “Yes.”
The two of you were so in tune with each other that when you made the movement to try and roll you both, Javi completed it to have him on his back with you on top, his cock staying nestled in your depths.
Your knees were bracketing his hips as you rose until only the tip of him remained and dropped back down, using your hands on his chest for leverage and keeping your rhythm steady and hard—up and down, over and over again. Javi's palms slid along your belly on a journey to your breasts, where he took them in hand, gently massaging them before his fingers zeroed in on your pebbled nipples, rolling and pinching them. It fanned the fire growing in your center, and you angled your hips to have him press into that magical spot that made it hard to think with how fucking good you felt.
There was a delay in you continuing the conversation. "It's the same for me," you panted. "I like waking up to you going down on me. I'd like waking up to you fucking me—I want it, and I don't want you feeling bad."
"I'll try.” His words were strained. “Fucking love your tits—wish I could see you bouncing on my dick.” It was too dark in the room. “Wait, what time is it?”
"What?"
"What time is it?" he asked again.
You looked at the red glowing numbers on the alarm clock located above you on the bedside table.
"6:32."
"Shit."
He pulled you forward, his arms going around your back, and rolled you both to your original position with him over you, moving your legs up high on his ribs. "We don't have much time—touch yourself."
He began slowly rocking in and out of you, speeding up little by little.
Your eyebrows furrowed. "Don't have much time?" you asked. "What?"
"The kids will be up any second, and I want us both to get off, so I need you to rub that pretty little clit for me."
Oh, right, the children.
The children you were watching.
The children you volunteered to watch and now held the power to cockblock you both.
The Murphy children.
"Shit," you said, getting your hand in between your bodies and locking your ankles against his lower back, feeling his muscles move beneath your calves. "Harder." The pads of your fingers were circling your bundle of nerves just the way you liked while Javi did as you asked, pounding into you hard enough your body was jostling, and you could hear the clap of his hips hitting yours.
The heat in your belly was getting hotter, Javi's lips sloppily kissing along your jaw and chin to claim your mouth with his, a thin layer of sweat coating both of your bodies.
"Need you to come for me." The sentence was muffled into your lips. "Need to feel it—let me have another, Cielito."
Pleasure was building inside you, every push and pull of his hips and swirl of your fingers getting you closer and closer to your sweet release.
He had you moaning into his mouth as he kissed you, Javi grunting, and you could hear how wet it was where you were joined.
His face pressed into your neck, his hot, heavy breaths fanning against your skin, your fingernails digging into his shoulder blades hard enough to leave crescent moon indents.
You were almost there.
"'M close," you said.
He put all of his weight onto one arm beside your head, and his free hand went to your breast, pinching and teasing your hardened nipple with his fingers—it had a current shooting directly to your clit, making you moan loudly.
"Come on, baby," Javi gritted through his teeth. "Give it to me—come all over my dick, and I'll fuck you full of me. I know you want it." He was moving faster, and you could tell he was close. "I know you want me to fuck a baby into you. Give me another, and I’ll give it to you."
"Yes," you gasped, clutching his back with one hand for something to hold onto as you fell over the edge and came, your cunt seizing up around him tight enough it stuttered his rhythm, and a rumbling groan erupted from his chest. Pleasure radiated out from your core, spreading to the tips of your fingers and toes, your mind going blissfully blank, your eyes closed, panting hard.
“Good girl,” he said, kissing low on your cheek. “My good fucking girl—god, I fucking love you.”
The second you relaxed, Javi was focusing on his own high, his nose pressed to the skin of your neck, hearing and feeling his heavy breaths as he pistoned into you. It was wetter between your legs, the sound of his cock working in and out of you amplified, and the suck of your pussy more pronounced.
He felt so good inside you, your hands moving to press into the sweat-damp waves of his hair.
"Let me have it, Javi." You scratched at his scalp, and he whimpered. "I want it, baby—come for me. Fuck it deep."
"I'm gonna give it to you," he grunted. "Te daré lo que quieras (I'll give you whatever you want)—Te conseguiré la pinche luna (I'll get you the fucking moon). Te daré el pinche mundo (I'll give you the fucking world)." His strokes were getting jerky. "Te daré tantos niños como quieras (I'll give you as many kids as you want). Haré cualquier cosa por ti (I'll do anything for you). Soy tuyo (I'm yours)—Siempre seré tuyo (I'll always be yours). Te amo (I love you). Te amo (I love you). Te amo (I love you)..." The last word turned into a strangled moan, Javi pressing himself all the way to the hilt deep inside you, the tip of himself kissing your womb as he came. There was the hard jerk of his dick, and you felt the warm spurts of his come filling you, his hips continuing to rock like he was trying to make sure he didn't leave any nook or cranny empty, wanting you to be completely stuffed.
The weight of him collapsing on you was familiar and welcome, stroking your fingers through his hair while he caught his breath in the crook of your neck.
One of the two baby monitors crackled to life, hearing a small, tired voice calling out for their mom—it was Stevie, the three-year-old.
Javi immediately moved to get up, giving you a quick kiss and making pained groans as he got to his feet.
"I've got him," he said, heading for the en suite. He turned on the bathroom light, your eyes squinting at the brightness and getting a glimpse of his naked back and bare ass before he disappeared behind the closed door—you sighed wistfully.
The water pattering told you he'd turned on the shower, and he must've gone in while it was still cold because it was turned off after only a couple of minutes had passed.
This had to be a record for how quickly he was going through getting ready.
You'd heard the sink run and knew he brushed his teeth, and when he came out with just a towel around his waist, his wet hair had been combed, but he hadn't bothered doing his regular styling.
"Cover your eyes," he said.
Your hands went over your eyes, and he flicked the switch for the overhead light.
"Do you want help?" you asked.
You heard him over in his duffle bag, pulling out clothes.
"With the kids? I can handle them on my own if you want to sleep in."
The sounds told you he was putting on a pair of jeans.
"I'm not gonna sleep while you wrangle the children by yourself. What I'm asking is how much time do I have to get ready? Do I need to try to break the world record like you? Or can I take an actual shower and brush my teeth longer than thirty seconds?"
"Hey, at least I brushed them," he said. "I don't wanna make him wait too long—I feel bad enough I had to shower, but I didn't have much choice since I smelled like pussy."
You were pretty sure he was buttoning his shirt.
"Yeah, a shower was needed—which, what prompted the unexpected wake-up call?"
"I had a dirty dream where I was eating you out in my old truck—the one I had in high school—and I just really fucking needed to taste you when I woke up. Took me a little bit to work up my nerve."
"Well, it was an amazing wake-up. Ten out of ten stars would love to experience it again."
He was moving, and you thought he'd grabbed his watch off the dresser.
There was a smile in his voice. "I'll keep it in mind—do your regular morning routine, baby. There's no need for you to break any world records." He was padding toward the door, it softly squealing as he opened it. "I love you."
“Wait, what color is the shirt you’re wearing?”
“Purple.”
The day before, you had to do a small load of laundry because you both had gone through the majority of the clothes you brought.
His answer made you grin. "Perfect. I love you, too."
The light switched off, and the door clicked shut. You removed your hands from your eyes and decided it was definitely time to get up out of the wet patch and shower—you made a mental note to wash the sheets and blankets before Connie got home. It seemed like the polite thing to do since you were heading home later that day.
Javi was up and ready in about five-to-six minutes.
It took you much longer to get clean and make yourself presentable, choosing to wear black leggings with your lavender-colored v-neck shirt.
Exiting the guest room, there was noise coming from the kitchen, hearing music playing low and voices, your socked feet carrying toward it.
Before the hallway opened into the living room, there was a doorway to the kitchen, and you stopped in your tracks when you got to it and looked inside, keeping half of your body hidden behind the wall.
Javi's profile was in front of you as he stood at the stove with Nate in a carrier on his back, and Stevie held in his left arm so his right was free to hold the black plastic spatula. Olivia was beside him, her back to you, with a plate in her hands that had a small stack of pancakes, all of the children still in their pajamas.
"Looks like your Mickey pancake is done, tesorito (little treasure)," he said to Olivia. "Can you bring the plate a little closer, please?"
She did as he asked, holding the plate closer but not too close to the hot stove. He scooped the pancake up and plopped it down on top of the stack.
Javi adjusted Stevie in his arm and set the spatula down to grab the large measuring cup half full of batter.
"Okay," he started, "What shape are we doing for your tía (aunt)?"
"Ninja Turtle!" Stevie shouted.
Javi smiled. "I’m sorry, bud, I'm not good enough to do a Ninja Turtle."
"What about a heart?" Olivia asked.
"Now that I can do," he answered. "Is it okay if I make your tía a heart pancake, Stevie?"
"Yes!"
Javi was cautious as he poured the pancake mix, a look of concentration on his face, finishing after some seconds.
"There," he said, he had a dubious expression. "It looks like a heart, right?"
Olivia peered into the pan. "Kinda looks like a butt.”
He let out a long sigh, and it took everything in you to hold back your giggle, enjoying watching this interaction.
"Well, guess I'm eating the butt pancake," Javi said, and you had to cover your mouth with both hands to keep from laughing because, of course, he'd volunteer to eat the butt pancake. The measuring cup was set back down, and he picked up the spatula. "I'll try again after this one. Hopefully, the next one looks like a heart."
"If it doesn't, you're really good at making Mickeys!" Olivia said.
He smiled, looking over at her. "Thanks, tesorito."
"I want a Mickey pancake!" Stevie announced.
Javi's head turned toward him with a frown. "I thought you wanted the ‘S’ for Stevie—that's what you asked me to make."
"I want a Mickey pancake now!"
“Guess I’m eating the ‘S’ pancake, too.” His eyes went to Olivia. "Set the plate on the counter, Mija. We're gonna be here longer than I expected—how's Nate doing back there?"
She set the pancakes down beside the batter, Javi twisting his torso to show her the one-year-old.
"He's just chewing on the teething ring."
"Good," he said, facing forward and flipping the pancake. "So, uh, what do you think about mi Cielito? You know, now that you've met her…"
You held your breath.
"I like her," Olivia answered. "She tells bad jokes like my dad, though. But she's really nice, and she made cookies with us, and I had fun with her at the beach."
You took a deep breath and felt relieved that you earned the approval of his niece.
"So, you're okay with her being your tía?"
"Yep! I like that she can speak Spanish with us and don't tell my mom, but tía's cookies are better than hers."
That made him smile as he moved the pancake from the pan to the stack. "I'll keep that between us, tesorito."
"Are you excited to have a tía, Stevie?" he asked the toddler.
"Yes, she made me cookies!"
Javi smiled. "Yes, she did. Okay—" he set down the plastic utensil and picked up the measuring cup again. "—let's hope this time it looks like a heart and not a butt."
Javier had always been an early riser—he didn't have much choice growing up on his parent's ranch, where their days started with his father's, who had to be out the door by six a.m. Any time he complained about waking up so early, his parents would tell him, ‘A quien madruga Dios le ayuda (God helps those who get up early),’ which equated to what they say in English, ‘The early bird gets the worm,’ or if you were early and eager, you were most likely to succeed; the saying didn’t improve his attitude about being awake when the sun hadn’t risen and having to help his dad do chores outside before he went to school.
Waking up at five a.m. for the first eighteen years of his life fucked up his internal clock to make it so his mornings naturally started at six now—which wasn't terrible during the week, but on the weekends, his fiancée slept until at least nine, and yeah, he could get up and go have some coffee while reading the newspaper or a book as he waited for her, except he'd miss her and feel lonely. His solution was he normally just stayed in bed cuddling her and allowed himself to relax and let his mind wander, usually thinking about their future.
This Saturday morning, he woke up too fucking horny to do his usual routine of holding her, and he knew she wouldn't mind if he disrupted her sleep to see if she'd want to fool around; she generally did the same when she was in his position. However, today, it popped into his mind about how much he liked it when he'd wake up to her sucking his dick or, Christ, when he'd wake up to her riding him; he wasn't ashamed to admit the first time he opened his eyes to her on top of him and using him to make herself come, he blew his load in a minute flat.
So, he was thinking about that and how she'd given him permission multiple times to do the same to her when he decided to give it a try. The issue he ran into was it made him really fucking uncomfortable to do things to her while she was unconscious—he needed his sexual partners to be coherent and consenting. It took him a few minutes to push down the feeling and remind himself she had consented, she'd enthusiastically consented on many occasions, and that he had to trust her.
And that was how he found himself waking her up with his face in her pussy. He ended up kind of liking it, or at least liking her reaction to it, and that it made her so horny she asked him for his cock.
Would he do it again? Probably. It seemed to be something she was really into.
He wished he would've worked up his nerve sooner so they could've had more time to fuck, but they'd made it just under the wire to the kids waking up.
Which, he was loving getting the chance to babysit with her. It felt like a trial run of their future, and he wanted to show her that she made the right choice, agreeing to marry him.
The children were pretty well-behaved, and they loved him enough that they weren’t too difficult—unless it was nap time or bedtime. The one he was most worried about was Nathaniel because the one-year-old hadn’t had as much time with him as the other two and was incredibly attached to his parents, especially Connie.
When Javier and Stevie went to go get the youngest Murphy upon waking, Nate had fussed for his mom, and once he realized she wasn't there, he became inconsolable if Javier tried to put him down—the solution was carrying the baby on his back while he made breakfast.
The two older kids wanted pancakes when he asked what they'd like to eat, and of course, Javier obliged because his sobrinos (niece and nephews) had him wrapped around their little fingers.
Here he was, making Stevie a Mickey Mouse pancake, even though he'd already made the three-year-old an 'S' shaped one, and his fiancée was doing a terrible job of hiding behind the wall to watch him with the kids.
He held Stevie so the child could see the pancakes being made, a black plastic spatula in his other hand. "Cielito," he said loud enough for her to hear. "How many pancakes do you want?"
She stepped into the doorway, and he glanced over, smiling immediately when he saw she was wearing her purple shirt. She was frowning. "How long have you known I was there?"
"Baby, you had half of your body showing. I clocked you the moment you got out here."
Her arms crossed over her chest, her eyebrow raising. "So, were you cheesing it up?"
She was asking if everything she saw and heard was genuine, and it felt like a gut punch that she thought he was faking it.
A frown formed between his eyebrows and on his lips. "Tesorito," he looked at Olivia, "¿He estado actuando diferente esta mañana (Have I been acting differently this morning)?"
"Huh?" The little girl had a confused expression on her face. "No." She shook her head. "¿Por qué actuarias de manera diferente (Why would you act differently)?"
His eyes went back to his fiancée.
“No sé (I don’t know),” he said evenly. “No tengo ninguna razón para actuar de manera diferente (I have no reason to act differently). ¿Le dirás a tu tía lo que te gusta que te prepare para desayunar cuando te visite (Will you tell your aunt what you like me to make you for breakfast when I visit)?”
The girl turned to face Cielito with a smile. "Mickey Mouse pancakes! He also does other shapes if we ask, but Mickey is my favorite, and the ones he's best at making!"
"Oh," the woman replied. Their gazes met, guilt written on her features as her arms dropped to her sides. "I'm sorry, Javi. I shouldn't have jumped to that conclusion."
“Flip it!” Stevie shouted about his pancake. “Flip it, tío!”
He focused back on the pan and used the plastic utensil in his hand to do as the toddler asked.
“Yay!” the three-year-old clapped.
“Thanks for paying attention, buddy,” Javier told the little one. “And I get it, Cielito. You've never seen me with them.” Javier sighed. “How many pancakes do you want?"
She moved toward him and politely said to Olivia, “Excuse me, kiddo,” the child letting her get to his side. She ducked under his arm that held the spatula, hugging him around his middle or as best she could with him wearing the baby carrier. Her face was tilted up toward him. “I’m sorry, Javi,” she quietly said. “I was rude, and I’m sorry for hurting your feelings. Can you forgive me?”
His head turned to her and kissed her forehead. “Yeah,” he answered truthfully. He pulled back to meet her eyes. “I’m not putting on a show for you—everything you’ve seen is just how I am with them.” Javier let out a long breath. “These kids are my family, and up until you told me you wanted children with me, they were the closest thing I thought I’d get to having my own—I couldn’t be a father, but I could be the best uncle, and I’m gonna keep being the best uncle, even when we do have our own, because I love them, and they’re my favorite sobrinos.”
“Somos tus únicos sobrinos, tío (We’re your only niece and nephews, uncle),” Olivia said.
Javier smiled, looking past his fiancee at the dark-haired girl. “Sí, los son y son los mejores (Yes, you are, and you’re the best). ¿Quién es tu tío favorito (Who is your favorite uncle)?”
Her beaming smile was missing some baby teeth as she pointed at him. “¡Tú, tío Javi (You, uncle Javi)! ¡Eres divertido y haces los mejores panqueques y nos compras los regalos que queramos (You’re fun and make the best pancakes and buy us the presents we want)!”
Cielito was smiling when he locked eyes with her. “I told you you’re fun,” she said. “And I can tell you love them a lot—you’re very adorable with them.”
“Thanks,” he replied and kissed her forehead again. “How many pancakes would you like, mi amor (my love)?”
“Two is fine.”
“What shape for your second one?”
Her smile turned mischievous. “I’d love a butt pancake, so we can both eat ass—” Her eyes got comically huge at remembering the children. “—sortments.” She cringed. “So, we can both eat an assortment of differently shaped pancakes.”
He snorted in amusement, trying not to laugh. “Right,” he said. “We’ll both eat an assortment of pancakes.”
“There’s really not much different between the heart and butt pancakes…” Olivia added with a look on her face like she didn’t understand what they were talking about.
“Is there bacon?” Cielito suddenly asked and stepped away from him, clearly trying to change the subject. “I could make bacon or maybe cut up some fruit?”
He looked between the two older kids. “Do you guys want bacon or fruit with your pancakes?”
"Bacon!" Olivia answered excitedly.
"Bacon!" Stevie squealed, clapping his hands.
His head turned to his future wife, smiling. "I think they want bacon."
"Then I'll make them bacon," she said, walking to the fridge.
It was like they were playing house—it was them with the three children they were taking care of, having to feed, clean, clothe, and entertain them, giving the couple a chance to see how the other handled it.
He loved standing with her side-by-side at the stove, making breakfast while they chatted with the children. He loved that Nate wanted to sit with her at the table when they ate, and she didn’t even blink an eye as she took the baby to put in her lap and eat his small plate of a plain pancake and cut-up bananas. He loved how she tackled cleaning up with him while holding the one-year-old on her hip like it was no big deal and kept an eye on the three little Murphys while he washed the blankets from their bed and put the mattress back onto the old, squeaky bedframe. He loved watching how easily she interacted with the kids and that they liked her—he knew, without a doubt, when he asked Olivia what she thought of the woman he was marrying, her answer was going to be positive because the nine-year-old trusted him, and would’ve said something to him by now had there been anything wrong.
Javier hadn't told Cielito this, but on their first night in Miami, when Olivia requested him to tell her a bedtime story, she worriedly asked him if he'd still love her and her brothers if he had a baby, and it broke his heart. He reassured her that, of course, he would and made a mental note that when they finally had a child, he'd do his best to ensure nothing changed regarding his regular phone calls with Olivia and sending them presents.
Seeing his fiancée happily helping him with the kids had him feeling some type of way; he couldn’t stop smiling, excitement vibrating just under his skin at thinking about her doing the same things with their own children.
On many occasions, she’d said their kids were going to be obsessed with him and love him more than her, but that wasn’t something he wanted—his future wife deserved their affection more, and he wanted them to be obsessed with her. He hated how she grew up—how she never felt loved, and he sure as fuck hated her family, and starting their own was a chance for her to have a do-over where she’d be loved unconditionally and knew her importance to him and their children. He just wanted her to feel loved and wanted, and he would do everything in his power to make it happen.
In the hours they waited for Steve and Connie to get back, they got a taste of what parenting together would be like, and he thought they didn’t do half bad—they got the boys ready for the day, getting them dressed, their teeth brushed, and hair combed. He saw how well she handled calming down a crying Nathaniel. They spent some time in the family room watching cartoons with the kids, and he helped Stevie with potty training, and she didn’t shy away from changing diapers. She French braided Olivia’s hair per the child’s request, giving her a plait on each side of her head. He showed her how to put Nate down for his morning nap, and they had lunch when the baby got up; then, they all piled onto the couch to watch The Little Mermaid.
Javier usually did most of this alone when the parents were away, but he had to admit that having someone helping him was nice and made things much easier.
Something he didn’t expect was how he somehow fell even more in love with her from being so good with the kids, and it showed him she was going to be an amazing mother one day—hopefully soon, if he got his way.
Javier was beside you on the couch with his arm over your shoulders and Stevie in his lap, Olivia on your other side, and Nate content sitting on your thigh with his back against you and a sippy cup in his hands as you all watched the movie.
"My favorite character is Ariel," Olivia said. "I'd love to be a mermaid and swim with dolphins! Tío's favorite character is Sebastian."
That was a piece of trivia you were not aware of.
Your head turned toward the girl. "Is that so? Has your tío watched this with you before?"
"Oh, yeah, it's my favorite movie!” That made sense since she had The Little Mermaid pajamas and bedding. “Last time, we ate ice cream sandwiches while watching."
Confusion came over you because you’d been sure Javi’s first time seeing this movie was with you—you’d been sure his first time watching many of the animated Disney movies had been with you.
“That sounds like fun,” you said slowly. “Have you watched other Disney movies with him?”
“Yep.” She pointed toward the entertainment center, where behind a glass door, you could see the spines of VHS cases, noting there were a lot of Disney titles and other children’s movies. “Um, I know we’ve watched Beauty and the Beast, Snow White, uh, Sleeping Beauty, Toy Story, Pocahontas, Aladdin, um, A Goofy Movie, um, oh! He took me to the movies to see Hercules!”
“I love that—have you watched Lion King together?”
He said he’d never seen it on your second date, and how he acted when you watched it on your third date made you believe it was his first watch.
“Nope—” She shook her head. “—I don’t like Lion King. It’s too sad.”
“It is kinda sad, and it’s okay that you don’t like it.” You gave her knee a pat before turning your head to look at Javi, whispering to him, “I thought you hadn’t seen Disney movies before we met?”
His face scrunched in confusion, meeting your gaze. “What? I never said that. I told you I hadn't watched Lion King, and I hadn’t. I’ve seen a few Disney movies with the kids—I figured you knew that…”
“I didn’t. I thought your first times were with me...”
“Some of them, yeah.” He shrugged. “They’re young children—what movies did you think we watched?”
“I don’t know, maybe Land Before Time or those cartoon movies not made by Disney.”
You felt dumb for not putting two and two together after he told you about Olivia and her brothers early on in your relationship—of course, it’d make sense he’d seen some of the movies before you got together.
Olivia interrupted. "We don't watch Land Before Time because it makes tío cry."
Your face softened, reaching across your body to caress his cheek. "Oh, babe, because of Littlefoot's mom?"
He was frowning, letting out a sigh, his eyes darting away from you. “Yeah,” he confirmed. “Messed up way to start a kid’s movie and fuc—freaking traumatizing.”
“Yeah.” You pushed the hair off his forehead. “The beginning is brutal. I cried the first time I watched it, too.”
The children’s dad shouted from the front door, “Kids, we’re home!”
“Mommy and Daddy are home!” Stevie said, crawling off Javi’s lap to run their way.
“Mom!” Nate shouted, letting his sippy cup fall and needing help to get to the floor. He booked it the same way as his brother.
Olivia jumped up to go see them, too.
Javi leaned in close, your cheeks touching when he whispered into your ear, “I can’t wait to come home to kids who are excited to see me—can't wait to come home to you pregnant. I just can't fucking wait to have a baby with you."
You smiled. "I know," you said just as quietly. "I can't wait, either. You're gonna be such an amazing dad, and our babies will be lucky to have you."
"You don't know how fucking happy it makes me when we talk about having more than one—I get so excited, I feel like a kid on Christmas."
"You're so cute."
"Hey, Jav!" Steve called out. "The two of you need to come out here!"
Your fiancé kissed your cheek. "We better go see what he wants."
“Okay.” You took his chin in hand and moved his face in front of yours to give him a kiss on the lips.
Your hands were held when you both got up and made your way to where the family was, finding them all standing around the kitchen table, Connie holding Nathaniel and Stevie in his dad's arms—toward the end of the table you were closest to, sat a professionally made, circular, white frosted cake, with red outlining the top and fancy writing in the same color, spelling out, "Happy Birthday Javi!" and two lit candles shaped like a four and zero standing above the message.
The moment you entered the dining room, the Murphys started singing "Happy Birthday," and you joined in, Javi suddenly stopping.
"What's all this?" he asked.
It got to the part in the song where his name goes, and the adults said Javi, but Olivia and Stevie sang tío. When they finished singing, the three-year-old clapped his hands.
"It's your birthday party!" Steve said with a smile. "Get over here and blow out the candles so the kids can give you your presents and eat cake."
"Right," Javi replied, letting go of your hand to walk the handful of steps, leaning over the table between two chairs.
"Make a wish!" Olivia said.
His eyes closed, and he blew out the candles.
"Yay!" Stevie said excitedly, clapping his hands again. Nate copied his brother with claps and a big smile.
"What'd you wish for?" Olivia asked.
"If he tells you, then his wish won't come true, honey," her mom said.
Javi straightened, and you made your way to him.
"Oh, right," Olivia replied. "Can we have cake now?"
"Yes, baby girl," Steve answered, taking Nate when Connie passed him to his dad so she could cut the cake. "Olivia, go grab your tío's presents over on the coffee table." He nodded behind him, and the little girl ran in that direction.
Javi's voice was rough with emotion as he spoke, "You guys didn't have to do this..."
"Yes, we did," Connie said, putting a small slice on a tiny paper plate. "The kids wanted to celebrate your birthday with you and eat cake."
"Thank you." Your arm was around his waist while he pulled you closer to his side and kissed your hair.
Olivia came barreling back toward them with some folded papers in one hand and a small box under her other arm wrapped in red and white striped wrapping paper that was clearly meant for Christmas.
She stood beside him and handed him the folded papers first, which turned out to be handmade Birthday cards from the kids—the first one featured an array of colorful marker scribbles that had every color in the rainbow and an abundance of circles, the writing messy as if an adult was helping to guide their tiny hand to write in black ink, ‘Happy Birthday!’ Javi flipped it open to find a baby-sized orange handprint on one side, with ‘Love, Nate’ written above it in Connie's clean script, and on the other side was a blue toddler's handprint with the same messy handwriting from the front over it, spelling, 'Love, Stevie.'
His eyes were misty as he looked over at the boys. "Did you make this for me, Stevie?"
"Uh-huh." His little head nodded. "I colored it for you!"
"I love it, mi principito (my little prince). Thank you."
"What do we say when someone thanks us?" Steve asked his son.
Stevie smiled big. "You’re welcome!"
Javi's attention returned to his hands, putting the closed first card behind the second.
This one was clearly made by Olivia. She'd drawn a birthday cake with the frosting colored pink and a few candles on top, a bunch of vibrant balloons above it, and underneath, she'd spelled in block letters in different colors, ‘Happy Birthday!’ When he opened it, there was a colorful stick figure drawing of her family taking up both sides, their names written above each person, with Javi and you in the middle, and 'Cielito' put down as your name. Along the top in the child's script, it said, 'Happy Birthday to the best tío in the entire world! Love, Olivia.'
It surprised you that she added you amongst her family, and it warmed your heart, knowing how happy it would make Javi.
"Es hermoso, tesorito (It’s beautiful, my little treasure)," he said, sounding a little choked up. He pulled her in for a side hug. "Incluso incluiste a mi Cielito (You even included my Cielito)."
"Well, yeah," she replied, looking up at him. "Hablas mucho de ella y vives con ella, y te vas a casar con ella (You talk about her a lot and live with her, and you are going to marry her). Tuve que incluirla ya que va a ser nuestra tía (I had to include her since she is going to be our aunt)."
"Gracias, Mija (Thank you, Mija). Es perfecto (It’s perfect). I'm gonna hang these up at work so I can look at them every day." He sniffled and wiped at his eyes, handing the two cards to you. His head turned your way. "We're gonna need to pack these carefully."
"Of course," you said.
"Y aquí está tu regalo (And here is your gift)," Olivia held up the box to him, and he took it, quickly unwrapping the paper and opening it. He set it down on the table and pulled out what was inside.
It was a picture of Javi sitting on the Murphys’ leather sofa, holding a maybe six-month-old Nate in his arms, with Stevie and Olivia seated on each side of him, all of them, except Nate, who was chewing on his hand, smiling at the camera, the white ceramic frame around it covered in kid-drawn sunflowers and daisies, with ‘World's Best Tío’ written on the bottom in Olivia's handwriting.
He was smiling. "I love this—it’s gonna go on my desk," he said. His gaze went to his friends. "Thank you. This means a lot to me."
"You're welcome, Javi," Steve said, smiling.
"The kids had a lot of fun making your presents," Connie added, "and I've been meaning to get you a copy of that picture." Six plates with cake slices on them were sitting on the table.
“Thank you," he said again, gently setting it back into the box.
The birthday cake was eaten, and the majority of the hours you had left with the Murphys, Javi spent with the children while you took care of packing both of your bags, wanting him to have as much time with them as possible—the last thing you saw them doing was having a Nerf gun battle, Javi and Olivia versus the Steves; big Steve carrying around little Steve, both with weapons in their hands.
There was a lot of laughing and happy squeals.
A little later, when Steve and Connie walked into the guest room you were in, you were folding the basket of clean bedding.
"Oh, sweetie, you don't need to worry about folding all of that," the other woman said as she came over and carefully took the sheet you were holding, tossing it back in the basket.
"It's really not a problem," you replied. "I don't mind."
"We'll take care of it later." She waved away your words, then guided you with a hand on your back and arm to stand with them over in the space at the end of the bed. "We wanted to thank you for last night." She stepped to stand beside her husband, and he immediately put an arm around her.
"Oh god, I'm so sorry about how I acted." You covered your face with your hands.
"It's okay,” she reassured. "If I had been in your position, I would've wanted to kick that woman's ass, too, and to be honest, it made the night very exciting."
You lowered your palms. "Really?"
"Oh yeah. Steve—" She glanced at her husband. "—tell her about that time right after we got married when that woman tried to kiss you."
"First of all," he started, "I told that woman to leave me the fuck alone and was very blunt in how uninterested I was in her. Then she tried to lay one on me—Connie had stepped away to use the ladies' room—and next thing I know, my beautiful, amazing wife was pulling her off me by the hair, and gave her a black eye before myself, and a bouncer could separate them. We were lucky she wasn't arrested, but I had never loved her more." He had a dopey smile on his face as he looked at Connie.
"Sooo, I acted accordingly?" you asked.
"Yes," they replied in unison, focusing their attention on you.
You smiled. "That makes me feel better."
“We wanted to talk to you before y’all left,” Connie said, “and thought this was a good time since Javi’s busy with our babies.”
“Okay…” you replied, wondering what they wanted to discuss.
“We are so happy Javi met you, and you’ve been so good for him. We’ve never seen him happier, and the two of you are a great match.”
You were waiting for the ‘but,” their expressions turning solemn.
“We just kindly ask that you please don’t break his heart,” she continued. “With how head over heels he is for you, we worry about what would happen to him.”
Breaking his heart had never even crossed your mind, and you had no intention of doing it either—Javi was the love of your life, your person, your soulmate; doing anything to hurt him was unfathomable, and you got where they were coming from—imagining a life without him was bleak and painful, and you knew he wouldn’t handle it well.
“Oh,” you said, “Wow, you guys are giving me the shovel talk. Well, I just want to reassure you both—” You looked between them. “—that I love him more than anything, and I’m in it for the long haul; in sickness and in health, ‘til death do us part, he’s it for me—I can’t even picture my future without him.”
A small smile was on Connie’s lips. “That’s good to hear,” she said.
"We're serious when we say you're the best thing to ever happen to him," Steve added, also smiling softly. "I'm not used to seeing him so fucking happy, but it's a good look—he deserves this, and we just hate thinking about him losing it.”
“I completely understand your worries,” you replied. “You just want what’s best for him, and you’re great friends—he’s lucky to have you. I want him to have happiness, too, after all the shit he’s gone through.”
Steve took a deep breath, his free hand resting on his hip. “He’s been through the wringer, and it’s about damn time he catches a fucking break.”
“It really is, and I’m going to do whatever I can to make sure he’s happy.”
“We appreciate it,” Steve said—he scratched at the back of his neck. “Also, I’ll tell him on our next call.” He and Javi chatted every Thursday over the phone. “But, I’m sorry about what an asshole I’ve been. I don’t know what got into me.”
“You needed to get laid, Steve.” You reached out and patted his arm, Connie giggling. “We know.” His cheeks had reddened. “If I only boned five times in an entire year, I’d also be a dick to the couple who are clearly doing it on the regular.”
He sighed, averting his eyes. “Yeah…”
You smiled. “Looks like you guys had a great night, though.” It was obvious they were much more relaxed. “Connie’s even glowing.” You gestured toward her, and Steve stood a little straighter, his chest puffing out. “Now, I need you guys to promise me something.”
Connie’s face showed curiosity. “What’s that?” she asked.
“You’ll start going on at least one date a month—get a babysitter for the night and take some time for yourselves away from the kids to have some fun. If you can swing it, I highly recommend getting a hotel room so you can go wild.”
The other woman looked at her husband. “I did enjoy the room last night. I’m sure my sister would watch the kids for us once a month.”
Steve had a delighted smile. “I enjoyed it, too—it’s a great idea, and we should’ve thought of it sooner.”
Her attention came back to you. “We’ll try—thank you. There’s something we want you to promise us.”
"Lay it on me."
“We know y’all are adventurous in the bedroom, but promise us you’ll avoid getting arrested by having sex out in public.”
You cringed. “Last night was a first for somewhere that public, and I don’t think I could stomach doing it again anyway.”
"Good." She nodded.
"Well, thank you for having us," you said. "It was lovely to meet you all and see Javi with your kids."
"I told you he's great with them," Steve replied.
"Yes, he is—we need to figure out a date, but hopefully, you guys can make it to our wedding next month. I'd love for Olivia to have the chance to be some kind of flower girl.” You weren’t having a traditional wedding with a whole bridal party; it was going to be a small ceremony with Chucho, Javi’s cousin, Seb, and your best friend, Robyn, the only people in attendance. “We'll make it work somehow."
"She'd love that," Connie said with a smile.
"We wouldn't miss it for the world," Steve added.
When it was finally time to leave for the airport, there were a lot of tears and promises Javi would see the children again very soon—Stevie had to practically be pried from your fiancé's arms with the grip he had around the man’s neck.
The drive to the airport was quiet, with your hand in Javi's, knowing he was sad about leaving his best friends and their kids.
On the plane, your bags were safely tucked away in the overhead compartment, and your future husband was again wearing his leather jacket and sitting in the aisle seat. He distracted you with his mouth on yours for take off, and you were thankful he remembered your fear of flying.
There was hardly any talking between you, mainly because you both were exhausted and ready to sleep in the comfort of your own bed.
An hour into the flight, as you read your book with the small overhead light shining down on you in the dark cabin, Javi nudged you with his elbow to get your attention.
"Cielito, look."
He was smiling with his reading glasses lowered on his nose, his hands holding his own book, and your eyes followed the direction he nodded in.
Across the aisle, in the row ahead of you, a mother was holding her baby, who couldn't have been a year old, in front of her and doing something you couldn’t see that had the child erupting in happy giggles with a big infectious smile.
"I want one," Javi said.
You snorted, laying your head against his shoulder. "And we're doing our best to have one."
His face turned your way, and he whispered, "Yeah, we are—maybe we should try joining the mile-high club. I'm sure I could figure out how to make it work in that small space."
As horny as the thought made you, a disappointed sigh exhaled from your mouth.
"Can't," you replied. "I promised Steve and Connie we wouldn't have sex in public anymore."
His eyebrows dipped low, and his eyes slightly squinted. "Why would you promise them that?"
"'Cause we were having a heart-to-heart, and I made them promise to fuck at least once a month. Anyways, they said ‘public’ and were referring to the bar yesterday, so us messing around in your truck is still okay—basically, in my head, as long as no one's around, we're good."
His face relaxed. "I can work with that—yesterday and the beach were too fucking risky anyway."
"Right? If we're gonna have a baby, we gotta start being more responsible."
A smile pulled up on his lips. "Agreed—god, I'm so fucking excited."
"About getting married and having babies?"
His expression softened as his eyes stayed on yours, grabbing your left hand and bringing it to his lips to kiss the largest diamond on your engagement ring. "Yeah, and that I get to spend the rest of my life with my best friend, living the fucking dream."
Next Day, Sunday, December 13
The day he’d been dreading had finally come—he was forty.
Forty.
That morning, he'd stood in the bathroom naked, staring at himself in the mirror, taking in every little detail of what he looked like after being on the planet for four decades.
There were more lines on his face and a grey hair on his head he plucked. He'd put on some weight, seeing his gut was softer and his face fuller.
He felt relieved that he still recognized the reflection—it was still him. He just had more wear and tear than when he turned thirty.
Cielito had woken earlier than she usually did on the weekends and found him doing his inventory of changes. He couldn't help it when he asked her if he was still attractive at his new age—he needed to know and have some reassurance. The question had her turning him to face her in order for her to press up against his front where she stared into his eyes and, honest to god, waxed poetic about how sexy he was for a solid five minutes; he'd felt much better afterward, and so happy, he sat her on the bathroom counter and ate her out.
He didn't want to make a big deal about his birthday—the small party with the Murphys was more than enough, and for today, he wanted to go to dinner with his fiancée and father at a decent steakhouse, where they both promised not to tell the servers it was his birthday so he didn't have to go through the embarrassment of being sung to by strangers.
As he said, he didn't want to make it a big deal—he helped Cielito make him breakfast, they cleaned up the apartment, washed their clothes from the trip, and ran some errands; typical things they’d do on a Sunday to prepare for the following week, plus relaxing on the couch and watching what she said was a Christmas movie he’d love: Die Hard.
She was right; this was the best birthday he'd had in years.
They'd gotten ready for dinner much earlier than they needed to so they could make a stop on their way.
His wi-fiancée looked stunning in her wine-red dress; the bodice had floral patterned lace, the skirt flaring out from the waist to stop just below her knees, and so she didn't get cold, she paired it with a jean jacket. Javier didn't feel like getting too dressed up and decided dark-wash jeans, a maroon button-up, and his black sports coat would do.
He held her hand as they quietly walked on the grass, his other fist carrying a small bouquet of bright orange and golden yellow marigolds; the wind was quietly whistling, two squirrels on a tree nearby were squabbling, and in the distance, faint sounds of cars traveling on roads met their ears, bringing life to a place where the inhabitants silently rested.
His eyes started watering before he saw the familiar stone, unable to stop from thinking how bittersweet this would be. They approached the headstone that had been so lovingly cared for, you couldn't tell it had marked this spot for close to ten years; the inscription was seared in his brain, knowing what it said without having to read the engraved letters and numbers.
Antonia Peña López
November 17, 1937-January 31, 1991
Beloved Wife, Loving Mother, Greatly Loved, and Sadly Missed
And he wished she knew just how greatly loved and sadly missed she was.
He bent down to place the flowers in one of the vases dug in the ground, grunting when he stood back up.
Cielito squeezed his hand to remind him she was with him, and he had to clear his throat before he could speak.
"Hola, Amá (Hi, Mom)," he said, "Te dije la semana pasada que por fin iba a pedirle al amor de mi vida que se casara conmigo, y lo hice (I told you last week that I was going to finally ask the love of my life to marry me, and I did)—dijo que sí (she said yes)." He held out his fiancée's hand to show the ring on her finger. He had to wipe at his eyes. "Me voy a casar, Amá. (I'm getting married, Mom). Estamos empezando nuestra familia (We're starting our family)," his voice cracked on the last word, and he cleared his throat again, ignoring the lump in it. "Estoy tan feliz, Amá, (I'm so happy, Mom)—nunca he sido más feliz y te extraño mucho (I've never been happier, and I miss you so much)."
Tears were rolling down his cheeks.
"Ojalá estuvieras aquí para ver cómo me he convertido en el hombre más feliz del mundo (I wish you were here to see how I've become the happiest man in the world). Ojalá pudieras estar aquí para conocer a la increíble mujer con la que me voy a casar (I wish you could be here to meet the incredible woman I'm marrying). Ojalá pudieras vernos casarnos (I wish you could see us get married). Ojalá estuvieras aquí para conocer a tus nietos (I wish you'd be here to meet your grandchildren). Solo desearía que estuvieras aquí, Amá (I just wish you were here, Mom)."
His lips had started to tremble.
"Hoy cumplí cuarenta años y me di cuenta de que la última vez que mi cumpleaños se sintió como algo para celebrar, estabas viva, estaba en casa desde de la universidad en las vacaciones de invierno y hicimos un pastel de tres leches juntos. (I turned forty today and realized the last time my birthday felt like something to celebrate, you were alive, I was home from college on winter vacation, and we made a tres leches cake together). No ha sido lo mismo desde entonces (It hasn’t been the same since). Mi vida es mejor ahora, y prometo celebrar más mi cumpleaños el próximo año (My life is better now, and I promise to celebrate my birthday more next year).”
He smiled.
“Me habré casado con mi media naranja, podríamos tener un bebé, al menos, espero que tengamos uno, y probablemente viviremos en nuestra nueva casa (I will have married my soulmate, we might have a baby, at least I hope we will, and we will probably be living in our new house). Tendré muchas razones para celebrar (I will have many reasons to celebrate). Te amo, Amá, y te extraño tanto (I love you, Mom, and I miss you so much). Gracias por visitarme la otra noche (Thank you for visiting me the other night). Lo necesitaba (I needed it).”
He'd dreamt about his mother the night before he proposed, and it had felt like she was giving him her approval of the woman he would spend the rest of his life with.
Cielito wrapped her arms around his middle from the side, and he hugged her back, sniffling loudly.
"You okay?" she asked.
"Yeah." He kissed the top of her head. "I'm okay."
"You know, wherever she is, she's so fucking happy and proud of you, right?"
His eyes blurred with more tears. "Yeah."
She squeezed him a little tighter, then moved from the embrace to look at the headstone.
"Hi, Antonia," she said, doing a little wave that made him smile. He knew she got nervous talking to his mom and preferred to speak English. "I love the ring." She held up her hand to show it. "It means a lot to me that it used to be yours, and I'm happy we have something to keep you with us every day. I just want you to know that I love your son so much, and I promise to take good care of him—he's everything to me, and I want him to be happy; I think you'd want that, too. So, I promise to take good care of him, love him with everything I've got, and make sure he gets that happy life we both know he deserves and want him to have.” She frowned. “I'm sad we never got to meet, but it feels like we have, and I want you to know that I love you, and our kids will love you, too, because you would've been the best abuela (grandma) to them. Thank you for raising such an amazing man, and don't worry, I'll keep him safe and love him forever."
The moment she stopped talking, he pulled her into his arms and hugged her tightly.
"Thank you," he whispered.
"I meant it all."
"I know."
Something that made Javier really fucking happy was how much the woman he’d chosen to marry loved his parents. She and his father got along so well they spent time together without Javier—she sometimes went out to the ranch after work to have a couple of beers with his dad and gossip about what was happening in town. Other times, she’d hang out with Chucho, and they’d cook Javier dinner together. And just like how Javier occasionally needed advice or a wiser perspective from his father, she did, too, and would visit him to talk things out. Javier loved that they’d bonded and developed a great father-daughter relationship.
Then there was how she never got a chance to meet his mother, yet through stories, pictures, home videos, and his mom’s recipes, she grew to love her and felt as though she knew her—Cielito genuinely loved his mamá, and had told him that when she makes his mother’s dishes, it made her feel closer to the other woman, and that meant so much to him.
He hated thinking about it, but there were so many signs that Lorraine was bad news, and one of them was how she never made any effort with his parents or wanted to—she hated going out to the ranch, she didn’t like to eat his mother’s cooking, and hardly spoke a word to them. He should’ve figured it out sooner that she was a waste of time. That she didn’t deserve him. That she wasn’t right for him.
He was with the right woman now. Cielito was the complete opposite of his ex—she actually loved him, she cared about him, she made an effort with his parents, and loved them, too; she enjoyed making his mother’s recipes, she learned Spanish for him and his family because she wanted to, and agreed to live at the ranch with zero convincing. She was perfect and everything he could want in a partner, and he was well aware that he didn’t deserve her. She was too good for him, and he was the luckiest man in the whole goddamn world that she’d chosen to be with him—she chose him.
They rode in his truck to the restaurant downtown and had to find parking on the street, ending up two blocks away before a spot was available. Christmas was weeks away, and people were out shopping at the small stores lining the road, and since it was dinner time, the restaurants were filling up—they had a small journey to make on foot, and neither of them minded.
It was one of those days where he needed her close because of the array of emotions he was feeling—there was unease from turning forty, sadness at missing his mom, regret for the things from his past on his mind, excitement at the prospect of getting married and starting a family, happiness from being with the woman he loved, and he was almost positive Cielito was hiding a new lingerie set under her dress, and that thought alone had him a little horny.
His arm was across her shoulders, keeping her against his side, his head tilted toward her as they walked and talked, his attention on her and her alone, loving the smile on her face, and her bright eyes, the smell of her perfume making him feel warm, and content—she smelled like home, she felt like home, she was home, and as long as she was with him, he would always be home.
"I'm telling you," she said, "your dad's gonna have a contract or something that he went through the effort to have notarized, or some shit to make it legally binding that he's okay living with a baby and will help us take care of them."
Amusement was on her face.
"He only had Friday to do something like that, and I doubt he could've done it in one day—I'm betting we just get a piece of paper that he wrote down he's okay living with the baby and helping us, that he signed on the bottom."
"Twenty bucks.” She glanced his way to meet his eyes as she smiled.
"What?"
"Twenty bucks says he went all out."
"Fine," he said. "I'm in, but don't be mad at me when I win."
His father was eager for grandchildren, would do anything to ensure he got them, and could be a bit ridiculous, but Javier didn’t think he’d go through so much trouble for what was essentially a joke, even though they all knew he meant what he promised.
She looked forward again. "Ha! You're the one who's gonna lose because your dad is—" she trailed off and suddenly stopped, and so did he. Her smile turned into a frown, and she glared at something ahead of them.
His lips turned down. "What?" He looked in the direction she was. "Fuck," he breathed. Javier got his hands on her shoulders. "Let's cross the street, baby," he said, trying to make her move, but she wouldn’t budge.
“No,” she replied. “We’re gonna ignore them and see if they’ll do the same. I need to know if they’ve stopped with their bullshit.”
He sighed. “I don’t think this is a good idea...”
She looked at him. “I promise, Javi, I won’t start shit if they don’t.”
“I know you won’t—I don’t have much faith in them.”
“Who knows, maybe they’ve grown as people.” She shrugged.
He highly doubted that.
"Hey, Javi.” The heavy Texan drawl of the woman’s voice had him tensing like he was hearing nails on a chalkboard.
“Or not,” Cielito said, looking at the group.
He sighed again, his attention going to the group of women, and sounded tired when he spoke, "Hi, Lorraine." She was with her cousin Tammy and her friend from high school, Tracy, the three women holding shopping bags. “Tammy, Tracy.” He nodded at each of them.
Javier was really fucking hoping this would be a quick hello, and they could continue on their way. “We’ve gotta get going,” he said. “We’re on our way to dinner.”
Grabbing his fiancée’s hand, he started to move and stopped when the interaction continued.
"I'm surprised you're still doing whatever it is you're doing with the same woman,” Lorraine said. “I'd think you would've grown tired of her by now with how you go through women."
He knew staying here was a bad idea. He ground his teeth, glaring, and didn’t have a chance to respond since Cielito beat him to it.
"Surprise, bitch," his fiancée said, holding up her hand, "we're engaged, so why don't you fuck right off with your shitty attitude and leave us the hell alone."
The other woman's eyes flashed as she looked at the ring. "His track record with weddings isn't great, and I wouldn't be surprised if he disappeared on you, too; that's what he's good at, up and leaving, and I doubt him giving you a ring is really gonna hold him to marrying you—there’s also the fact he spent over a decade paying a different woman to fuck him every night, and I just think he’s too much of a slut to settle down."
Cielito lunged toward her, and Javier quickly had his arms around her to hold her back.
"You don’t fucking know him!” she yelled, trying to break out of his hold. “And I don't recall him getting you a ring, you jealous hag!" Lorraine scoffed, and the woman in his arms went still. "That's it," she said, having a realization. "You know, I thought it was really fucking weird that you're married and have a whole ass family but are so obsessed with a guy you dated for a handful of months and tried to baby trap—you're jealous," she stated matter-of-factly. "I bet Javi was the best sex you ever had, and you hate you couldn't keep him—it grinds your fucking gears that he's in an actual, loving relationship with another woman who gets that fucking spectacular dick on the regular and is treated like a goddess while your husband probably doesn't even know where the clit is, and only cares about getting himself off; honestly, with how much of a fucking cunt you are to Javi, I'm gonna assume the only orgasms you've had since him were with your own fingers because the man you're married to is godawful in bed and it wouldn’t shock me, most likely cheating on you—and that's what you fucking deserve for being the biggest, selfish, stuck up bitch in the world."
The other woman's face was bright red, and she dropped her bags, Tammy and Tracy immediately grabbing onto her to keep her from moving toward Cielito, her expression showing pure rage.
His wonderfully amazing, beautiful, badass wi-fiancée seemed to have struck a nerve, and he had to keep himself from laughing at the other woman’s anger.
"I'm not fucking jealous!" Lorraine shouted. "He was lucky I even bothered dating a loser like him! And he humiliated me! Me! I was the prom queen! I’m a beauty queen! I come from money! My family name means something here! He had the chance to be something more than a poor farm boy with me! You're delusional if you think he'd marry an ugly fucking nobody like you when he wouldn’t even marry me!"
He was already pissed off, but that made him want to scorch the earth she walked on. He stepped in front of Cielito, his tone going icier than the Arctic. "Shut the fuck up, Lorraine," he said, staring daggers at her. "I've had it with your shit."
The woman stopped struggling, eyes wide like she couldn’t believe he was talking to her like this.
"You can insult me all you fucking want,” he told her, “but you will not talk about the woman I love like that, no matter how fucking jealous you are of her—and she's right. You are jealous, and you should be because you don't hold a single fucking candle to her.” He pressed a hand to his chest. “I actually love her. I love her so fucking much, I proposed to her with my mother's ring, and what did I give you when you tried to trick me into marrying the devil incarnate? Fucking nothing because you meant nothing to me and deserved nothing from me. I'm done, Lorraine. I no longer feel bad about how things ended, and I’m fucking glad I left your ass at the altar because it led to me meeting the woman of my dreams who’s far more prettier than you and is somebody—she’s somebody better than you.” His hands went to his hips. “This is the last time you or anyone else in your shitty family harasses me—” He pointed at himself. “—or the people I love—it better be, or I'll get the Sheriff involved, and I’m sure with his connections over at the courthouse, they’d be more than happy to strap you fuckers with restraining orders.” Sheriff Arturo was respected and had a lot of pull in the community; he also was Javier’s boss and a family friend, who’d be more than happy to fuck with Lorraine’s family on his behalf. “As my future wife said,” he continued, “you can fuck right off; whatever this was is over. Have a nice life.”
His ex's face was so red, a vein was bulging in her forehead, while her mouth opened and closed, unable to speak from clearly being too angry and shocked. He grabbed Cielito's hand and pulled her around the other three women behind him. They were walking away, their backs to the trio, and he heard a frustrated scream, followed by an “I’m not jealous of her, and Rick isn’t cheating on me! He just works late at the office!” The other women were trying to calm her down, which made him smile.
It was about fucking time he told her off, and he felt free—a weight had been lifted; he no longer had to walk on eggshells. He was finally fucking free of his past, and it was like he could actually breathe.
There was nothing more he wanted to do than kiss the woman he loved, who always stood up for him and was simply incredible. They went across a street to be on the same block as their destination, passing people as they walked.
Cielito came to a stop, and he did, too; Javier grunted when she shoved him into an alley, making him stumble a few steps. The space between the two buildings was wide enough for a walkway, and he was confused when he turned her way, his eyes widening when she grabbed the lapels of his coat and pushed his back against the wall, her mouth following to crash into his.
A surprised sound left his throat that turned into a guttural groan when it registered she was kissing him; his arms wrapped around her back to pull her closer to his body, sliding a hand down the rough denim of her jacket to the buttery soft satin of her dress skirt to grab her ass.
It was obvious she was turned on, and he moaned when she palmed his dick over the front of his jeans. He didn’t need to ask what had gotten into her and had her all over him in a random alley; he knew it was because of how he talked to his ex, and honestly, listening to her lay into Lorraine on his behalf had his pants feeling tighter.
Her tongue licked hotly into his mouth to massage his own, and this was just what he wanted—to make out with the love of his life after they both told off the witch that ruined his life. Adrenaline was running high in each of them, and it was making them horny.
She had his body lighting up, prickling sensations shooting through him and making him thicken in his jeans. It got to the point where his lungs started to ache for oxygen, and her lips left his to sloppily kiss over his chin and along his jaw, as they panted.
“I wanna suck your dick.” Her sentence was muffled into his skin, her hand lightly squeezing over his half-hard cock.
“We’re not supposed to do shit in public anymore,” he breathily replied.
He’d love to get a blow job; however, he was acutely aware of their surroundings and the fact there was a steady stream of people passing by the mouth of the alleyway.
Her lips were on his neck, and it had him breathing hard as she licked and sucked at the sensitive skin, the scrape of her teeth making him shiver.
“That was before you were really sexy and went off on that stupid bitch.”
It was tempting. He glanced toward the sidewalk and realized how visible they were; anyone walking by could just look their way and see everything going on. They had too close of a call at the beach when the lifeguard showed up right as Javier was about to take off her pants; then there was the fact people heard them fucking in the bathroom at a bar—too many risks had been taken over the last few days, and he knew their luck would run out sooner rather than later, and he didn’t want to spend his birthday in jail; his dad would be so disappointed, and Steve would never let him hear the end of it.
He swallowed hard.
“You can’t suck my dick here,” his words came out rough.
Her head popped up with a look of confusion.
“Why not?”
“Because I love you, and it’s too fucking risky. I also don’t want your knees to get dirty.”
She pouted. “But you were so hot, you deserve a blow job.”
He smiled. “You can give me one when we get home or if you really wanna play with fire on our way home.”
She breathed out a long sigh. “Fine.”
He took her chin between two fingers, his gaze moving between her eyes and mouth, wanting to kiss her.
“Good girl,” he rasped.
His hand moved to cradle the back of her head, and he pulled her forward to smash his lips with hers, kissing her hard—his other arm was around her back as he turned her, pressing her spine to the brick wall while she clutched at the shirt over his chest, and he fit his thigh beneath her dress, between her legs for something to grind on.
He swallowed her moan, a sharp spike of arousal stabbing him in the gut at feeling the heat of her bare pussy through his jeans—he’d thought she was wearing lingerie under that pretty dress, but it looked like she was wearing nothing and that had blood rushing to his groin. She rocked her hips for some friction while his tongue delved into her mouth to tangle with hers.
This was safe—all people would see was them making out like a couple of teenagers. They weren’t doing anything illegal by kissing, though her getting off on his leg would probably be frowned upon.
Javier didn’t care; he wanted her to feel good, and he was in heaven getting to kiss her—he loved the feel of her lips against his and how their tongues danced together in a familiar routine. He loved the slight taste of her cherry-flavored chapstick and hearing her breathy moans and whimpers as she used his thigh to get herself off. He loved the softness of her body pressing into his and the heady smell of her perfume that made him think of his face buried in her neck while she held him in the comfort of her arms.
He loved her.
And just a kiss had him drunk on her—her smell, her feel, her taste, it all consumed him, making her every thought in his brain.
Her arousal seeped from her cunt, and he could feel a wet spot forming on the denim covering his thigh, her hips rolling to chase her release. His big hands grabbed onto her waist to help her move against the firm muscle, his cock now fully erect and straining in his pants.
He spoke into her lips, low enough for no one to overhear, “Are you gonna come for me? Are you gonna get off riding my thigh?”
“Yes,” she moaned.
“Good—use me, baby—make yourself feel good. I wanna wear your come on my jeans, Cielito.” He nipped at her bottom lip. “Mark me with it so everyone knows I’m yours. Make a mess of me, mi amor—keep rubbing that perfect clit for me.”
Her mouth separated from his, trailing wet kisses over the line of his jaw, to his neck, Javier’s eyes rolling back when she sucked over his pulse point hard enough to leave a mark—arousal was burning hot in his belly, sparks skittering through his body.
His voice was ragged, “I love you so fucking much.” He cupped her face, moving her head to get his mouth back on hers. “You were so fucking sexy sticking up for me,” he murmured against her lips. “I’m yours; all of me belongs to you. I’ll fight for you, I’d die for you, I’d go to war for you. I’ll do anything to keep you safe, and I won’t let anyone fuck with you.” He kissed her. “You’re mine—you’re my everything, and when we get home, you can have me however you want.” Grabbing her hand, he pressed it to his hard-on. “This is yours.” He put her palm over his heart. “This belongs to you.”
“I’m close,” she moaned.
Both of his hands moved to grip the globes of her ass over her dress, canting her hips back and forth, assisting her movements. "Come on, mi amor, come for me. Keep riding my thigh with that pretty pussy, and come."
His mouth claimed hers once more, dampening her sounds and deepening the kiss with a press of his tongue between her lips.
Moments passed of their mouths fused together and her wet cunt grinding against the flexed muscles of his thigh, when she hit her peak, her motions stopping, and her body tensing up tight, coming with a loud moan that vibrated in the back of her throat. He broke the kiss, sharing her panted breaths.
"Good girl," he purred and caressed her cheek, pecking her on the lips before they blazed a trail across her jaw to her neck, where he tasted her salty skin, kissing and sucking at it as she came down from her high.
It took a minute for her to speak.
"It's your birthday," she said, "why am I getting all of the orgasms? There was this morning in the bathroom, and now this. How do you not have blue balls?"
His head lifted to look her in the eyes with a smile. “It is my birthday, and I’m doing something I love, which is making you come, and yeah, my balls are aching a bit from not getting off, but I’m saving myself for tonight because I’m curious about what you have planned—I saw you put the sex towel on the bed before we left the apartment."
The sex towel was a big, thick, black towel they brought out when they didn’t want to dirty the bedding, like if she was on her period or he was in the mood to make her squirt—it kept things from getting too messy. If the sex towel was out, it meant they were gonna have some fun, and he was dying to know what she intended to use it for.
She laughed, looping her arms around his neck. “I’m not gonna spoil the surprise,” she said, smiling big. “But you’re gonna lose your fucking mind and probably ask me to marry you again.” Her eyebrows wagged.
That had excitement thrumming through him.
He grinned. “It wouldn’t take much to make me propose to you again.”
“That’s true.” His fiancee nodded. “You, sir—” She poked him in the chest. “—are incredibly whipped.” She flicked her wrist and made a noise like she was cracking a whip, which made Javier chuckle.
“Yes, I fucking am,” he said proudly.
“God, it’s so hot how much you’re into me.”
“Yeah—gets me going how much you love me, too.”
“The sweetest man,” she replied, leaning forward to kiss him. Her eyes were on his when she pulled back. “We better get going. We’re gonna be late to dinner.”
“Shit.” He checked his watch, then looked at her. “Pop’s probably wondering where the fuck we are.” Javier stepped away from her and turned his back to the alley’s entrance to adjust himself in his jeans and hide his hard dick by trapping it under his waistband—a dark patch had formed over the denim covering his thigh from her come.
Facing her again, his hands held her face, and he kissed her tenderly, his gaze on hers when they separated, and his lips turned up in a soft smile—she looked just as happy and so fucking beautiful. He was kicking himself in the ass for not taking a picture of her before they left for dinner.
“I love you,” he said. “Thank you.” His thumbs stroked across the apples of her cheeks.
Her eyebrows furrowed. “For what?”
“Loving me, marrying me, protecting me, making me happy—I can keep going.” He smiled. “Thank you for being with me and changing my life for the better; thank you for giving me shit to actually live for. And today, thank you for making this the best birthday I’ve had in a long time.”
“Even with what happened earlier?”
“Yeah.” He nodded. “I love it when you defend me, and it felt fucking amazing to go off on her—it was long overdue.”
“It was, and I’m proud of you.” She kissed him. “You also have nothing to thank me for—I love you, and all I want is for you to be happy.”
“I’m so fucking happy.”
Nothing was more true.
Javi was glued to your side as you walked the rest of the way to the restaurant. His arm was across your shoulders, keeping you tucked against him while his head was tilted your way, chatting about nothing important.
Before arriving at your destination, ringing sounded from inside your purse, and you wondered who would be calling. It took you a second to feel around in your bag to get the sturdy Nokia phone out, seeing your best friend’s name on the screen. You and Javi moved to the side of the sidewalk and out of the way of the other pedestrians.
“Robyn’s calling.” Confusion was laced in your tone.
“Didn’t you tell her we were going out tonight?” Javi asked.
“Yeah, this afternoon when I called her to debrief about our trip. I wonder what she wants.”
You hit the answer button and put the cell phone to your ear.
“Hello?” you said.
Her best friend spoke in her Texas twang. “What the fuck happened with Lorraine?”
“Hi to you, too—how in the world do you already know about that? It’s been fifteen minutes!”
“I’m at my mama’s, and she got a call from her neighbor, Miss Caroline, down the road, who heard from Mrs. Bell, whose daughter, Bernice, works at the jewelry shop downtown that Lorraine got into a screamin’ match with Javier Peña and the nurse he’s datin’ on the sidewalk outside the store—girl, you better spill.”
You were taken aback by how quickly word had spread.
“I cannot believe people are already talking about it…”
“Somethin’ excitin’ like Lorraine and Javier Peña havin’ a public quarrel? Of course, the news is gonna travel fast! You know better than anyone people still talk about their failed wedding.”
She made you frown. “That I do.”
“So, what happened? Tell me everythin’.”
“Well, Javi and I were minding our business, heading to meet his dad for dinner, when we ran into Lorraine, Tammy, and some other woman I didn’t care to get the name of—”
“Probably Tracy-Anne Walker,” Robyn interrupted. “She just goes by Tracy these days and is tight with Lorraine and her cousins.”
“Maybe?” you replied. “Anyways, we tried to ignore them, but Lorraine decided to open her big, stupid mouth to say some shitty things about Javi, and if he hadn’t held me back, I would’ve kicked her ass—instead, I called her out on being a jealous bitch because he’s with me, and Javi got a chance to lay into her, and finally, tell her to shut the fuck up. It was great; I thought her head was going to explode with how red she turned. Hopefully, she’ll leave us the fuck alone from now on.”
“I’m upset I missed the drama. From what I heard, after you guys left, Lorraine had a meltdown and had to be dragged back to their car.”
“Good. And that’s all that happened.”
“It’s surprisin’ y’all hadn’t crossed paths until now. It’s good you put her in her place.”
It was surprising you hadn’t had another encounter with her since the first one.
“There’s no way in hell I’d stand by and let someone talk to Javi like that,” you said, “and now she knows we’re not fucking around.”
“Yes, she does. Okay, I’ll let you get back to your evenin’. Tell Javi happy birthday from me again, and Chucho, hi.”
“Will do.”
“See you tomorrow at work.”
“See you.”
You clicked the end call button, and put the phone back in your purse.
“Everyone knows?” Javi asked, taking your hand.
“Yep,” you answered and started walking with him.
He breathed out a long, weary sigh. “Of course—this town is full of fucking gossips.”
“It’s annoying as fuck when you’re the gossip, but I’m guilty of enjoying hearing the tea.”
"I am, too—I love it when you tell me about what's going on at the hospital."
"And I love when you bring home hot goss from work—still not over that deputy finding out his wife was having an affair when he saw her at the motel he was doing a drug bust at."
It happened in a neighboring city.
"Yeah, talk about a fucking coincidence."
The place he chose for dinner was relatively new to Laredo. It was a nice steakhouse that only served locally sourced beef and had the best steaks in town. The owner was a local who'd gone to some fancy culinary school and spent time working in a Michelin-star restaurant before coming back home to open this one, and the food was surprisingly good.
Inside, the lights were slightly muted, the brick walls decorated in paintings of pastures, with some featuring cattle grazing. A bar was on one side of the place that could've come from an Old West saloon with all of the carefully crafted mahogany wood.
It was easy to spot Chucho when you arrived, the older man waving you over to the booth he was in. His white straw cowboy hat was sitting on the table with a cold bottle of beer and three menus, the man getting up as you approached with a beaming smile.
"Hola, mis hijos (Hello, my children)," he greeted and gave you a big bear hug when you were close enough, then a simpler hug to Javi that included some back pats. He looked your way when he stepped back. “Quiero ver el anillo (I want to see the ring).”
Holding out your hand, he took it in one of his as he admired the engagement ring through his glasses—the gold band that used to belong to his wife with a decent-sized princess cut diamond in the middle, flanked by two smaller ones on either side of it, Chucho’s eyes beginning to shine.
“Es hermoso (It’s beautiful),” he said. Glancing at Javi to your right, he continued, “A tu mamá le encantaría que intercambiaste el diamante original por algo más grande y estaría muy orgullosa de ti, Mijo (Your mom would love that you exchanged the original diamond with something bigger and she would be so proud of you, Mijo). Ella estaría tan feliz (She would be so happy). Permítanme tomar una foto (Let me take a picture).” He turned back to the table, lifting his hat to get his camera under it, and faced you again.
“De verdad, Pop (Really, Pop)?” Javi asked. “Quieres tomar una foto aquí (You want to take a photo here)?”
“Sí (Yes).” He nodded. “Quiero tomar una foto de la primera vez que la vi usándolo (I want to take a photo of the first time I saw her wearing it)—dale un respiro a tu padre (give your father a break). Estoy emocionado (I’m excited).”
“Yeah, Javi,” you said, looking over at your fiancé with a smile. “Let your dad enjoy this.”
“Fine,” Javi replied, wrapping his arm around you to pull you against his side.
Chucho put the camera up to his face. “Okay, Mija, put your left hand on his chest so we can see the ring.” You turned your body toward your future husband and pressed your left palm over his heart. “Perfect. Now smile—a bigger smile than that, Javier, you’re getting married!”
“Sorry,” Javi said. “People are staring.” He hugged you closer to him.
“That’s better.” The flash went off, making you blink as spots dotted your vision. The camera was lowered. “See, that wasn’t so bad. Now, please sit. I want to hear about your trip.”
“Thank Christ,” Javi said under his breath and let you scoot into the side of the booth you were going to share.
A server came over to get your drink orders the moment the three of you had settled in your seats, and Chucho put the camera back under his cowboy hat. Javi’s arm was around your back, with his hand under your jacket, drawing shapes against your dress-covered hip with his fingertip.
“How are Connie, Steve, and the kids?” the older man asked. He picked up his beer and took a drink.
“They’re great,” Javi answered. “Olivia’s Spanish has gotten better, and the boys have grown a lot since the last time I saw them. Steve and Connie are doing good, too.”
Chucho set the bottle down. “Good, good.” His dad nodded. “I’ll have to call Connie this week and catch up—I love talking to her. What’d you guys do while you were there, besides getting engaged?” He was smiling.
“We hung out with the Murphys,” Javi said. “Spent a day at the beach, went out for drinks with Steve and Connie, babysat the kids so they could have some time alone, and yesterday they threw me a small birthday party.”
“That was sweet of them. Did you get any gifts?”
“Yeah.” Javi smiled. “The kids made me cards, and I got a framed picture of me with them from my last visit.”
“I can’t wait to see it.” His attention turned to you. “Did you have fun and enjoy meeting Javi’s friends?”
“Yeah!” you answered. “They were wonderful and so welcoming. I had a great time, and I loved going to the beach. It was also really cute to see how Javi acts with the children—they love him so much.”
“I’ve heard.” He grinned. “He’s gonna be a great dad, which speaking of that—” he looked at the seat next to him toward the wall and picked up a large manila envelope he set on the table in front of you both, his eyes back on you. “—I said I’d put our deal in writing, and there it is.” He nodded at it.
Javi picked it up and unclasped the flap, pulling out a small, stapled stack of papers. His eyes moved over the first page before flipping through the others, the last one containing some kind of official seal and signatures.
“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” Javi said in disbelief. His gaze landed on his dad. “You had your lawyer write up an agreement for you babysitting and us living with you?” He held up the stack. “You even have a rental agreement in here stating you won’t accept rent from us.”
“Figured that’d be good to have on paper.” Chucho shrugged. “You’re my son—” His head turned toward you. “—and my daughter-in-law and I won’t have you paying to live with me. Just having you there will be enough, and hopefully, I’ll have a nieto (grandchild) there, too.”
Leaning into Javi, you whispered, “You owe me twenty bucks.”
“Yeah, I do,” he said. “I can’t believe you went through all this trouble, Pop.”
“I needed you two to know I was serious, and what better way than a legal document.” He looked very proud of himself. “It was also time I met with my lawyer to update my will. We always had it that Javi would get everything, but I wanted to make sure you inherited all of mi Antonia’s jewelry and her recipe box, Mija.”
“Oh,” you breathed, your eyes suddenly burning. “You didn’t have to do that,” you told him.
His gaze was on yours, his mouth turned up in a sweet smile. “Yes, I did. It was important to me those things would go to you, even though I’m sure Javi would’ve given them to you anyway. I also wanted there to be something in there about the ranch staying in the family—I know you’ll have your new home to raise your children in and won’t need my old one, but I hope after I’m gone, one of your kids will want it.”
“Yeah,” Javier said, his voice thick from the emotional subject. “Of course, Pop. We’d never let anything happen to the ranch or your house.”
“Good.” He passed each of you a menu and took one for himself, his eyes scanning over it. “Let’s figure out what we’re eating and talk about happier things.”
Your future husband put the agreement back in the envelope and handed it to you to set out of the way on the booth seat beside you. The server returned with your drinks and a basket of freshly baked bread with soft butter, telling you they’d return to take your orders in a few minutes. As you all read over your menus, you idly chatted about the choices and were ready when the employee returned to find out what you’d decided on, taking the menus with them when they left.
“So,” Chucho started, his hand wrapped around the glass bottle in front of him, “have you had any ideas for your wedding?” His eyes went to Javi. “I can talk to Padre (Father) Jorge if you want to get married in the same church as your mamá and me. I still go there, and since you were baptized, I’m sure I can convince him to let you—he officiated a wedding there not too long ago between Juan Barocio’s oldest son and a nice Protestant girl.” He lifted his beer to his lips for another drink.
It was sweet of him to offer, and he was probably hoping you’d accept, but Javier and you didn’t want to have a big wedding and had no desire to get married in a church.
“Actually, Pop,” Javi said, adjusting in his seat to lean closer to the table and rest his arms on it, “we talked out what we want to do for our wedding.”
The bottle was set on the table again, and the elder Peña’s face brightened. “What have you decided?”
“You know the big oak tree up on the hill, you and mamá would take me to for picnics?”
“Yes.” He nodded. “Somewhere on the trunk, I carved her and my initials.”
No wonder that spot was so special to your betrothed; it was somewhere he had fond memories of and had made new ones with you there, too.
“Yeah, you showed me,” Javi replied. “We wanna get married there at sunset with just you, Seb, and Robyn with us, and afterward, we wanna have a party at your place—if you’re okay with it—to celebrate with everyone.”
Chucho’s expression had gone soft. “That would be a beautiful way to marry your media naranja (soulmate), Mijo, and of course, we can throw a party. Have you picked out a date?”
Javi and you looked at each other. “Hopefully, in about a month,” you answered.
“I’ll call Padre Jorge tomorrow to see when he’s available,” the older man said.
Your fiancé faced his dad. “We don’t want Padre Jorge to officiate,” Javi informed him with a shake of his head.
Chucho looked confused. “Did you have someone else in mind?”
“You.”
His father’s eyebrows lifted almost to his hairline. “Me?” He pointed at himself. “I’d be honored to do it, but Mijo, I’m not ordained—if I marry you, the law wouldn’t recognize your marriage; you wouldn’t be legally married.”
“We have a solution to that,” you said and met his eyes. “There’s this church that will let you get ordained through the internet.”
He frowned. “I don’t have a computer and have never used one... I wouldn’t know how to do something like that…”
“Easy solution: we can take you to the library, and I’ll help you—Javi can just watch since he hates computers and types with his index fingers.” You imitated the way he typed by pressing the fingertips of your pointer fingers against the tabletop, pretending there was a keyboard.
All of the times you’d visited him at his office, you’d never seen him touch his desktop computer once; you had, however, seen him use his typewriter and were absolutely tickled by how he stared at the keys like they insulted his mother and only used two fingers to hit them.
Javi looked at you. “Are you seriously making fun of how I type?”
Your head turned his way. “Lovingly,” you answered. “I’m lovingly making fun of how you type like an old man.”
He breathed out a sigh and focused his attention on his dad. “Anyways, what my rude, future wife is trying to say, is she’ll handle the computer shit, and we'll just be there for moral support.” His hand gripped your thigh under the table. “Isn’t that right, honey?” he asked you.
Your eyes narrowed in his direction. “Did you just honey me? You have never honeyed me—Cielito, amor, hermosa, cariño, baby, babe, light of my life, The Artist Formerly Known As Prince, and Your Royal Highness, Queen of my heart, are all acceptable terms of endearment, that are incredibly sweet, and cause me to swoon like a Victorian woman who’s caught a glimpse of a male wrist; honey makes me feel like you’re mad at me or being condescending, which I know, it’s what Steve calls Connie, but they’re so… vanilla.”
“Is that your nice way of saying boring?” His amused gaze met yours.
“I mean… you said it.”
“They are vanilla, and I’m sorry, baby,” he said, rubbing his hand over your leg. “Let me try again—isn’t that right, Your Royal Highness, Queen of my Heart?”
You giggled and playfully smacked his arm. “You smartass. I do kinda like that, though. Back to our discussion.” Your focus shifted to Chucho. “Yes, I’ll handle the computer and do all the work while the two of you stand behind me looking handsome.”
The elder Peña chuckled. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll get ordained if you’ll help me do it. I’m touched you want me to be a part of your special day.”
“There was no version of our wedding where you weren’t there, Pop,” you truthfully told him. “We love you, and you’re important to both of us.” You gestured between yourself and Javi. “Having you officiate one of the happiest moments of our lives would mean the world to us and was how we hoped we’d be married.”
The older man’s eyes had gotten watery as you spoke, and he had to take off his glasses to wipe at them.
“Yo también te amo, mis hijos (I love you, too, my children). Me han hecho el padre más feliz y orgulloso (You have made me the happiest and proudest father). Desearía que mi Amor estuviera aquí para compartir esta felicidad conmigo (I wish my Love was here to share this happiness with me). Tengo que ir a verla mañana para darle la noticia (I have to go see her tomorrow to tell her the news). Ella estaría muy emocionada (She’d be so excited).” He sniffled, putting his glasses back on. “¿La visitaste hoy (Did you visit her today)? Le costaría creer que su nene tenía cuarenta años (She’d have a hard time believing her baby boy was forty years old).”
“Sí, Pop (Yes, Pop).” Javi answered. “Nos detuvimos en nuestro camino hacia aquí (We stopped on our way here). Nosotros necesitábamos (We needed to).”
“Bueno, bueno (Good, good).” He held his son’s gaze. “Feliz cumpleaños, Javiercito (Happy birthday, Javier). Te has hecho un hombre increíble y no podría estar más orgulloso de ti (You have become an incredible man and I couldn’t be more proud of you). Sé que tu vida no ha sido fácil, y como tu padre, me mató ver todo lo que has tenido que pasar sin tener ninguna manera de detenerlo (I know your life hasn’t been easy, and as your father, it killed me to see everything you had to go through without having a way to stop it). Me siento aliviado de que finalmente estés a salvo en casa, donde perteneces, y de que hayas conocido a una mujer maravillosa que te hace sonreír y te ama tanto como tú la amas a ella (I’m relieved that you’re finally safe at home, where you belong, and that you met a wonderful woman who makes you smile and loves you as much as you love her). Tu madre y yo rezamos durante años para que seas feliz de nuevo, y ahora lo eres (Your mother and I have prayed for years for you to be happy again, and now you are). Esperábamos que encontraras a tu media naranja y tuvieras tu propia familia, y finalmente está sucediendo (We hoped you’d find your soulmate and have your own family, and it’s finally happening). No he estado tan feliz desde que tu mamá estaba viva y aún vivíste en casa con nosotros (I haven’t been this happy since your mom was alive and you still lived at home with us). Feliz cumpleaños, Mijo (Happy birthday, Mijo).” He held up his beer. “Se te ha dado una segunda oportunidad en la vida y esta vez, sé que estará llena de felicidad y amor (You’ve been given a second chance at life, and this time, I know it will be filled with happiness and love)—finalmente estás obteniendo todas las cosas buenas que te mereces (You’re finally getting all of the happy things you deserve).”
Glancing over at Javi, his cheeks were wet, and you leaned your head against his shoulder as you raised your glasses. The two men took drinks before you all set them down.
“Gracias, Pop (Thank you, Pop),” Javi said. His hand lightly squeezed your thigh, and you grabbed it to lace your fingers together. “It’s been a great birthday.”
“I’m glad, Mijo,” Chucho replied. “That reminds me, did the two of you really have an, eh, altercado con Lorraine en su camino hacia aquí (altercation with Lorraine on your way here)?”
“Lorraine started it!” Javi and you said at the same time.
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#pedro pascal#javier peña#Javier peña/reader#javier peña x reader#javier peña x you#javier peña smut#wheresarizona writes#learning to live series
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