#narcos fanficion | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

undercoverpena · 13 days

Text

1. tie the knot

javier peña x f!reader* | chapter one of let us pretend

summary: peña has been back in Texas for all of five minutes, thinking he wants a simple life. but, when steve offers him the chance to gather information on a potential new player, he jumps at the chance. the only problem is, to do so, he'll need to go undercover with a female agent—and pretend to be her husband.

wordcount: 4.6k chapter themes: fake dating/relationship/marriage, forced proximity / sharing one bed, colleagues to lovers, no use of Y/N, *female agent has a nickname (sunny) for use undercover. an: this week i am full of surprises. welcome to the world of let us pretend. this chapter might not feel different from htcu, but it is.

All he has to do is pretend. Put on an act.

It’s simple on paper. Easy. A thing he’s already a master in, something he has never found particularly difficult or hard: pretending.

Javi, after all, had had always been pretty good at concealing, at masking—

“Y’need to pretend to be married.”

Faking being a husband was a new one.

Having lived with far too many emotions for so long, it’s not hard for him to fake nonchalance.

Colombia had been his school. The place where he collected his degree—days of pretending he was okay. Hiding the fact he couldn’t sleep the horrors away, that he wasn’t falling apart at the seams. That stress wasn’t making him chain smoke and the pressure wasn’t making him sink his cock into women he couldn’t save.

He picked up his doctorate when he returned home. When ranch life had felt so fucking dull it made him want to pick the smoking habit back up, just for something to do. When he saw boats that made his insides twist, but found he had to wear a smile. Hiding, as expertly as he could, so he didn’t bristle each time someone called him a hero—when all he wanted was a drink, a fuck or a newspaper.

Mostly, Javi had become a master in squirrelling away the fact he saw every minute of the hours at night, feeling nothing short of relief when his alarm chimed so he could get out of his homemade prison.

Bluffing had always been a skill of his. But, this, this was new to him. His bluffing had never required him to wear something shiny on his left hand and—

“And, Jav. Try not to fuck her.”

He’s not surprised that Steve heads up a department in Miami—or that he’s happy and content.

From the moment the two of them reunited, he took in the glow on his old partner’s skin (the one he strongly suspects isn’t just from the sun) and listened as he heard short (in Murphy’s opinion) stories about his daughter growing older.

Javi couldn’t relate—not that he’ll admit it. Just another thing he disguises. Smothers his face in what he assumes is what happiness looks like, wears it like an accessory, something akin to wearing a jacket, rather than actually feeling it.

Picking up a ring, rotating it between his thumb and finger, he snorts. “Wouldn’t be very husband-like of me, if I didn’t, would it?”

He’s nudged. An intentional elbow to the side sparks a grin as he places the ring back into its velvety spot.

Because none of them look right. None seem right—even for a fake thing.

“Fake husband. And don’t fuck this up.”

“I’m hearing a lot of don’ts and not a lot of do’s, Murphy. What the fuck is it you want me to do?”

He’s already been told, informed. Briefed.

Tricked in fact. Requested down here for an opinion, but when his worn-in soles landed in the office of his former colleague, it unravelled into something so much more.

Handed a file—one he knows everyone expects he won’t read—and given a rundown of what the operation is supposed to look like. But Javi knows better. Had known it too. Even suspects, Murphy does too.

One thing Colombia has taught him is that plans don’t mean shit, not when you’re up against an ever-evolving problem.

You don't just want me here for a consult, do you, Murph? Was hopin’ you were bored in Texas.

He suspects that’s why his Pop had given him an arched brow, an expression that was accompanied by pinched lips when he’d first mentioned it. Even his assurance that it’ll be a few days—just helping Steve out was met with a look Javi hadn’t banked on. Realising as he stood admiring wedding rings that his Pop had figured it out long before him.

At least now he understands why he got the Chucho-treatment—not quite quiet, but not quite the same treatment from him that he did the day before.

Instead, that kind of treatment that pierced itself into him, attempted to bury itself inside of him and made guilt flood through him like a poison.

Even if once before he would struggle with it, found himself desperate to apologise—make it up to his Pops—he didn’t this time. Because Javi already struggled. Already grown tired of itching for something.

So, he said nothing. Because he knows Murphy wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t need him.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Murphy closes his eyes. The same noticeable twitch in his fingers and chewing inside his cheek that Javier can relate to: the sign of a recent quitter, and one attempting to use gum as a replacement.

Needing too.

“Where is she, anyway?” he asks, shifting the conversation, suppressing a yawn.

Before he’d even got on the plane out here, he’d been tired. Already beginning to fray at the edges, sleep had already become an even more distant friend.

All of it had been made worse by the worried look on Pop’s face when he dropped him at departures. It thickened, slathered itself on his shoulders even more so when he calls him from Murphy’s office to tell him it’ll be three months.

“You managed longer than I thought, Javi.” “Pop…”

Even though he had known it wouldn't matter, he had still tried to explain it all over again. From the top. All softly, with patience—the phone receiver leaving an indent on his cheek as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Reminding his Pop that this time he was doing his friend a favour, that it was a one-time thing—a few months, at most.

It didn’t shift the tone—didn’t stop Javi from imagining the disappointed lines bleeding into worried ones, mixing with the ones caused by age. It didn't lessen the tightness over the phone, simmering in the miles of air, because they were both at a standstill in the centre of a formerly (albeit temporary) happy situation.

Sighing, Murphy drops his hand, pulling him back from his thoughts. “She’ll be here, alright.”

Javi snorts, swallowing.

Glancing back over another table, seeing other things, other accessories. Things that’ll help him blend, help the two of you blend. You and him, him and you—a person he knows the name of and nothing else.

Steve had shared that you were good, brilliant, the only one he’d trust. That you knew the work so far better than anyone.

He’d been about to begin unpicking those earlier statements when the door opened, blouse and black tailored trousers walking towards him.

It isn’t anything cliché.

Time doesn’t stop, the room doesn't silence, but something happens. Something shifts, changes—alters. Because instantly, Javi realises you’re pretty. A thought which confuses him, especially when it dawns on him that usually, it’s a woman's figure he notices and admires first, but he finds that it's your eyes that he lingers on.

And fuck do they cut into him.

Practically reach inside of him, before they go through him, digging into flesh and fucking bone.

Then, all at once, ceasefire. A chance to strengthen his façade as you turn to greet Murphy, a handshake, a sea of pleasantries. Enough chance to shove it down, whatever attempted to rise in him.

But, he swears he can still see them behind his lids. Something which makes his jaw tighten, teeth grind—

“You must be my husband,” you say, smirk sliding up into your cheek.

Your body suddenly turns to him, hand sticking out towards him, adding your name to the statement as though stamping it into the air and his body goes clammy, grows warm and makes him suddenly desperate for water, coffee or even whiskey.

Slipping his hand into yours, he’s not surprised to find that it’s soft, the right kind of warm. He’d suspected about as much from just appearances alone.

“Agent Murphy has told me a lot about you, Mr Peña.”

Running his tongue over the front of his teeth, he eyes you. “Think my wife should call me, Javi.”

Javi learns, rather quickly, that you have a nice voice.

It doesn’t grate, doesn’t annoy him—it’s informative, but there’s something else there, a playful edge, a little thing within you that hasn’t been crushed.

He remembers when he’d been as sprightly.

Rubs his forehead with the heel of his palm as he does, fingers desperate to clutch a pen, his jaw tightening as he thinks about how he could roll it in his fingers, hold it like he used to hold a smoke.

Fuck, he wishes he could chew his gum.

A thing which is slowly making him more tense.

Not that you seem to notice, too focused on getting him up to speed on the actual investigation. He’d read much of your notes before today, it was the next part he was more on edge by.

Because, whatever his earlier opinion of you was, he was getting the distinct impression you’d rather set your skin on fire than be fake married. A thing you stop trying to hide, your face displaying your disgust at it each time it is casually mentioned.

It was mandatory—Murphy’s words—for the two of you to get to know one another. A crash course, a 101 in the other. It’s told to you, that the two of you are going to be stationed in your new home for the next few weeks, starting from today. But, because they’re merciful—

“Wanted to make sure you had time to get to know one another. So, take the day—work can begin another day.”

“How nice of you, Murph,” he responds, words dipped in sarcasm. Briefly catching sight of you smirking as you study something on the table.

Javi had already imagined that—since it was recon, and more surveillance than anything else—for the most part, everything could remain the same. He learnt he was right moments later when it was confirmed his name would remain very much his own, and you were handed his surname like a gift you’d rather burn than accept.

It was you who had to surrender more.

“Y’need a new first name.”

If you were surprised, you didn’t show it. A sea of reasons given, the main one being if anyone asked around with a photo and your name, it would be easier to put two and two together. You lived here, for one.

You keep your eyes down, glancing over the table of possessions you’re allowed to borrow, to play dress up with. Fingers brushing over a watch (silver, a white face)—something haunting in your eye you’re quick to blink away when you meet Murphy’s stare.

Folding his arms, Steve sighs. “Jus’ something you’ll answer to. That can be used in public.”

Javi watches you smirk, something secretive, a hidden joke simmering between the two of you—leaving him very much out in the cold of it.

After a beat, you lick your lips.

“Sunny,” you reply, lifting your eyes, digging each syllable of the name you’re going to use into him.

“Let me guess you’re someone’s ray of sunshine?”

He doesn’t mean for it to fall out laced in bitterness, but it does all the same. His mouth tilted into a smirk, your eyes hardening as you placed down a pair of earrings you’d picked up.

“Think it’s more because of my sunny disposition.” He snorts, watching you move around the table. “It’s a family nickname—I’ve… I’ve always been called it, so, I’ll answer to it.”

Swallowing, Javi lets his eyes wander to the wall of the room.

“Alright, you two. You need to sell it, y’hear me?”

“Then we need money.” It’s short, stern, the way you deliver it, head tilted and face unreadable. “We’ll be sniffed out immediately without it. These people deal in money, not handsome faces.”

"So, you think I'm handsome?"

The roll of your eyes doesn't dispute it, not as you direct your attention back to Murphy.

Who, until now, Javi hadn't realised (with his hands on his hips) how big boss Murphy looked as he whispered fine, or how much it rather annoyed him. How it would be quite easy to give him a shove. More so when he’s handed a new phone, a set of documents, credit cards and given more instructions he wishes he could shove down his throat.

He almost gets close enough to do both when briefing ends and he’s handed the keys to the hotel suite they’d be living in—their story simple, easy:

“We have a fake house for you both being made ready as a cover story, but for now you’re both in the hotel. Prime location. Beach views, and very much in reach to the top places the targets visit.”

And, Murphy hadn’t been lying.

It did have good views, the suite was even nice—really nice.

Almost too nice for a little surveillance, a little fake marriage and a drug bust. But, he didn’t complain, barely said a thing in the ride over, or when you wheeled your own case. He even remained silent when you refused to look at him in the elevator or on the walk to the room, and even when the two of you entered.

In fact, the first words he said were: “You gotta try and look at me like you don’t wanna peel my skin off. You know, if you want this to work.”

He expects it; braces for it, the tongue lashing, an icy stare. Picturing you as the kind of woman who is already to sharpen your tools and pierce him with them when he blinks. But, you don’t.

If anything, Javi watches in slow motion as your shoulders sink, your cogs turning before your expression softens.

“You’re right—I’m… sorry.”

Biting the inside of his cheek, he nods. “There’s one bed.”

“Well. We can sleep in the same bed, Peña. We’re adults. However, for your sake, I’m going to put a pillow between us.” Your eyes sweep over him, cold, drowning him in a chill. “Two actually.”

“You a cuddler, or something?”

Smiling, you sigh. “No. The pillow is so that if you roll over all sleepy and desperate for some affection, I won’t have to cut you. Because if you touch me, that is what will happen.”

“How are we meant to sell we’re in love if I can’t touch you?”

“Oh, out there, you can touch me. In here, no.”

His snort rumbles from his chest. Tugged up, wrenched from some cobweb-filled depth, as you smile. Nothing big, nothing life-changing, but a start—the beginning of a level-playing field.

“What kind of touching, cariño?”

Jaw tightening, you smirk—but it’s cold.

He suspects you’re used to charm. Easily able to disable it, switch it off, unfazed by his gaze or the edge of his words. If anything, you seem really fucking bored of it—something he’s not sure if he admires or despises.

“Nothing like you used to pay for, Peña.”

Before he’s even recovered, he learns that you take things seriously.

Your bag opens, pulling out a notebook—upside down cursive etched over a page, your eyes scanning over it, before you ask if he’s ready. He’s barely able to ask for what, when you begin firing things at him.

Favourite food. Comfort film. Where did we meet? What song do you sing in the car when I’m not around? Are you allergic to anything?

The list goes on, and on. The more things continue to run out of your mouth, the more he begins to admire you—to settle into some comfort that you want to do this properly. That you’re going to take it seriously too, something he wants.

Needing it to matter.

Needing to have something work out easily, not have it all end for nothing.

The only time you pause is for a dinner—room service, his treat and his choice. A way of providing proof that he’d been listening, paying attention—somehow wanting to prove something to you, even if he’d known you for only half a day.

“So, how did Murphy get you on this?”

He studies the way you cross your leg over the other, the base of your heel tapping against the carpet—all very much guarded, on edge.

“You can tell it’s my first, can’t you?”

Javi smiles, making it softer purposefully. “A little.”

“He said you were good,” you sigh, placing your napkin down. “I assume I was chosen because it was easy. Y’know, than someone with… higher priorities. Plus, I already know the case. Guess it just made sense to send me.”

Nodding, he watches as you avoid his sight, focusing instead on the swirls in the carpet. Something ticking in your pretty little head, it forcing your nostrils to flare, for your jaw to tighten—and he’s watching it happen, practically feeling the air around you begin to vibrate from it all.

“M’not gonna let anything happen to you, Sunny. You know that right?”

That does it. Further digs in the hatred you’re feeling tenfold because the use of your new name makes you flinch. And he knows, like he had suspected earlier that it means more than just a name. Especially from the look on your face.

At first, your expression is soft, almost mask-less—no walls, no defence. Then, like magic, it shifts. It drapes down, rebuilds, and suddenly there within seconds, the same expression he’s been working with since introduction.

“I have heard how you take care of the women who work with you.”

Picking up your drink, and stirring the straw, you let your eyes meet his. The small wooden table suddenly even smaller—the large suite, suddenly constricting in a way he hadn’t expected so far.

“S’not what I meant.”

“I know.” It’s curt, your reply. Clearing your throat, you snort, “You are handsome. I can see why you did so well. And, I might not need to say this, but I need you to know I like my job, and I don’t require that kind of care.”

Rubbing his jaw, he sighs. “That so?”

“I have something that can help with that. It doesn’t talk. It doesn’t need to remind it that it’s ‘so big’, and it doesn’t need me to call it baby. It just hums—politely—and makes my thighs shake. I just need you to be with me in this.”

He snorts, draining the rest of his glass. The ice clangs just before he places it back down on the table. “You bring it with you, your something?”

Licking your lips, your mouth slides into your cheek. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Steve had told you his credentials—how he worked, how smart he was. How easily he was able to decipher a read on someone.

He did also mention much of Peña’s backstory—including his rich history with the opposite sex. A thing you hadn’t wanted to let escape out coated in catty and wrapped in bitchy. And yet, it had all the same.

You did want to get on with him, you admired him after all. Hearing the truths from Steve made the things that swirled like gossip even more impressive.

But, in all of the briefings you’ve had before agreeing to this, your boss had failed to mention that it wasn’t just the man’s tongue that got women to confess all their secrets, but his ridiculously handsome face too.

The one that keeps turning towards you—eyes concentrated in on you as though you’re the most interesting thing he’s ever had the chance to listen to.

But, it wasn’t just that. It’s that he’s quick-witted, observant, and it most definitely doesn’t help that he’s all broad shoulders and brown eyed. That, in part, you thought you could handle.

Then, he’d flirted.

On any other day, in any other place, you’re sure you’d have melted. Likely leant forward, elbow on your knee, tracing your bottom lip with your finger just to make his eyes drop to your mouth.

But, this isn’t any other day—it’s work, a job, one that requires him (in part) to be a flirt.

Clearing your throat, you smear on a smile. “You not tried to date since you’ve been home?”

His face hardens, just slightly.

It pinching, eyes more so than anywhere else—his smile falling, descending to a thin line as he traces his teeth with his tongue. Then, his eyes shift into an entirely different brown, an explosion of shades swirling—flecks of gold and sadness-infused umber.

“No.”

Nodding, you pick at some salad on the side of your plate. “Probably a good job—don’t need any angry people coming for me when I’m curled up on your arm.”

He snorts, but it doesn’t flutter over his face. His hand remains balled up, resting on the arm of the chair—something more there, prodding, needling him. He may be so easily able to read you, but you’re sure he’s about as clear as a warm day himself.

Landing his gaze back on you, you feel it linger, hover—before it begins to slip down from your eyes, landing somewhere at your neck, before the buttons off your shirt. Something warming inside of you, flooding out, spreading across your skin as you try your damnest to level your breathing.

“Got any more questions?”

“Plenty,” you reply, almost catching the y on your teeth before placing a light smirk out over your lips, letting it move across your face.

Gesturing, Peña licks his lips and so you begin with more. Not needing the book now, just working your way through the things which populate, which appear like bubbles he bursts with his answers.

He’s open about some things more than others. The two of you covering family quickly, childhoods even quicker. You both discreetly avoid too many details of Colombia, about the things you’d already heard in chunks from your superior.

Your 101 beginner class in your new husband proving to be easier to understand than your field handbook—although, you supposed the intermediate and expert levels to him would be far harder to crack.

He’s unmarried, not dating—there’s his dad, a sea of distant family and a town full of people whom his father would class as family. You suspect some guilt there, it layered between the conversation on his dad, and the one which followed when you’d asked if the ranch would be okay without him.

“—My Pops has had help for a long time. One of them has been promoted. He… He works there full time now.”

Even if he had tried to say it simply, it was laced in bitterness—not from jealousy, you suspect from the sadness that had poisoned over time. A well stuffed with things which had rotted and gone mouldy over time.

Upon sight of him this morning, you had known you’d need to be clever, smart—find ways to compartmentalise it all. Because, when he traces his nose with his finger, when his eyes widen a little more than normal—coffee-brown all but drowning you—you had known it would be hard otherwise.

Something there, niggling, piercing through.

“Any lovers I need to be aware of?”

Smiling, you slide your feet from your heels, pulling your legs up more, swallowing. “No, you’re good.”

“Any potential risks I need to be aware of—anyone who’ll call into question your new name?”

Your stomach knots, uncomfortably so. A thing balling inside of you, that same fear you’d been plucking at for days—ever since Steve had suggested your name, thrown it out on the conference table with a bunch of greedy eyes seated around it.

“No, I… you have nothing to worry about.”

He looks at you, lets it hover, hold. Something there, trying to disguise itself in the way he narrows his eyes a fraction, in the way his lips pinch together—the way his brain seems to whir like a fan that can be heard even across the table.

When you yawn, he makes a move to tidy up the plates for the tray—batting your hand away. “I’ve got it, cariño.”

“Cariño?”

Your cheeks are warm, more so under his stare. Easily able to smother it the first time, but found it difficult the second. It’s all wide, blooming—it tracing your eyes before it sweeps back to the tray.

“Gotta call my wife something original, special.”

“I’m hardly special, Peña.”

“If I’ve married you, you’re special.”

Clamping your mouth shut, you say nothing.

Something churning, a horribleness that you know stems from the fact this isn’t real. None of it. The niceness, the ring on your finger—the one your finger slides up your palm to brush over, to trace.

The one which didn’t have a home there this morning, but now sits like it’s always supposed to. Your stare on his back as he goes to the door, pushing the metal tray, the jingling of plates and glass sounding out as your heartbeat pounds in your ears, your cheeks burn in embarrassment.

It continues to hammer when your back flattened against the bathroom door—safe amongst marble, mirrors and an array of complimentary products which covered most of the sink.

Only as you begin to undress and change for bed, does it lessen, does your composure return back to you. The mask which you so delicately applied, the one which had taken more words of encouragement in your bathroom mirror this morning than you’d thought.

Because, it isn’t that you thought you couldn’t do this—but rather why would you?

This isn’t your expertise. Not your usual field of knowledge. The last time you’d even been on a date had been at least over a year ago, and the last time you’d lived with a man had been so long ago you were worried you’d wake tomorrow and learn you have habits you weren’t aware of.

Did you kick in your sleep?

Did you grind your teeth?

“Cariño?” Peña calls out, knuckles tapping on the door. “You good in there?”

No, you want to reply. Hands gripping the sink basin, staring at your makeup-less face and the nightie he was about to see you in.

“Yeah,” you call out, washing your hands, and flushing the toilet before unlocking the door, and emerging.

He’s polite enough to not drink you in, even if you're sure he’s craning his neck not to do so.

“Look. Before you crack your neck from not doing so.”

Smirking, he traces his fingers across his chin, before slowly dropping his eyes.

And you feel them.

Warm. Hot. Sliding over your neck, collarbone, down the silk which covers your chest, abdomen and most of your thighs, before he’s running his vision back up.

“Better?”

“Nice legs.”

Narrowing your eyes, you straighten your spine. “Try not to dream about them, and Peña?”

He hums.

“Try to remember you’re not actually married, don’t want you falling for the fantasy we’re putting on. Hate to break your heart.”

Leaning against the doorframe, staring at you, you somehow manage to level your breath. “If it’s you breaking my heart, Sunny. I might just let you.”

Your mouth almost falls open. Almost.

Something you think he's aware of from the way he smiles, from the way he drinks you in before he whispers about getting passed.

Then, you're alone.

Filling your lungs with a breath, staring around the room not sure how you're going to make it a week not cracking, never mind more.

CHAPTER TWO ->

AN: tag list won't be around from chapter two, thank you for letting me tell the story how i always envisioned. your kindness is appreciated.

taglist: @thetriumphantpanda @texassmiller @wordywarriorwrites @iknowisoundcrazy @thundermartini

@secretelephanttattoo @belliezz @picketniffler @thelightsandtheroses @sawymredfox

@toomanytookas @auteurdelabre @grumpygrumperton @noisynightmarepoetry @missladym1981

@maried01 @livswayout @casa-boiardi @msjarvis @perotovar @inept-the-magnificent

@copperhalfcent @morallyinept @inside-the-mind-of-a-wallflower @nabiiturner

@venturawriter @blablablasssss @half-moon16 @nerdieforpedro

358 notes · View notes

auteurdelabre · 5 months

Text

Dare to Surrender (Series) Part 4 [Javier Peña x f!reader]

Pairing: Javier Pena x f!reader [no name/ physical description/no use of y/n]

Words: 7.6

summary: You can’t stand Javier Pena but when Steve Murphy makes an off-hand remark that gets both you and Javier’s competitive sides going, there’s no telling how far you’ll go.

A/N: This is porn with a dash of plot because my other story is angsty and stressin’ too many people out and I love me a good enemies to lovers story.

MASTERLIST HERE

=========================================

Dare to Surrender Part 4

Why is Murphy out sick? Of all days why does he have to be out sick?! You need him here! You need his big looming sexually-neutralizing presence

Because today Javier Peña is wearing a suit.

Fuck.

He never dresses like this unless there's a courtroom or a serious meeting with Noonan. It's light in color, almost a frosted beige and it clings.... To everything. The curve of his ass, the tight muscle of his thighs.

You're convinced that you can even see the outline of the thickness between his legs when he twists a certain way. But maybe that's wishful thinking.

You've been doing a lot of that lately. In the month since you first slept with him there has been much thought about Javier Peña's body. Nights spent at home coming with his name huffed under your breath and shame on your cheeks.

But those thoughts are now overshadowed by thoughts of Bradley - Brad- Williams. His beautiful eyes and charming smile.

You showed him around Bogotá last Saturday, introduced him to your favorite food spots and the secret stretch of beach you go to when you're feeling overwhelmed.

It had been so easy, so fun. Brad had made you laugh and when he held your hand it was gentle. You'd spent the entire night waiting for him to kiss you, desperate for his mouth on yours. But Brad is a gentleman. He doesn't rush things. He kissed the corner of your mouth and said you he wanted to see you again.

He's nothing like Javier Peña.

And now you're here at work, wet and wanting and it's all because of the sloe-eyed DEA agent that's turning his gaze on you.

So while you can help but enjoy the view of Peña in a suit, you can't help but frown when he strides over.

///

"Mind if I use your phone?" he asks lowly, his eyes trailing over you.

You look good this morning, despite the frown. You've started loosening up at work, wearing your hair untied, your blouse not done up all the way to the top button. You seem more relaxed.

Javier thinks he knows why and it makes him drag a hand over his mouth to hide the grin.

"Why can't you use yours?"

"It's busted," Javier lies. He likes being this close to you, desperate to see how you react when he's near.

Before you used to ignore him, ire coming off of you in waves. But now? Now that he's made you come twice at this desk? Now your eyes flutter, your breasts heave. And your mouth? The quick way you bite back at him all flustered? It's so fucking sexy. It makes him hard.

He used to fuck his hand a couple times a week, just enough to make sure he was able to focus. Now though? Now it's daily, sometimes multiple times as he recalls you.

I need it faster. Please, baby?

He must be staring because you've glanced up from your file to glare at him.

"What? Use my phone or get lost."

///

Javier eyes lose that dreamy quality, replaced almost immediately with a glint you know too well. You ignore it, turning your attention back as he punches in the number on the phone.

"Hola," Javier greets. He begins speaking rapidly, his voice quiet and throaty.

You can hear a female voice on the other end of the phone but it's muffled. You don't speak Spanish, so you have no idea what he's saying. It's only when his voice drops that you realize something is off.

"Vas a hacerlo por mí hermosa?" Javier purrs. "Gonna pet her for me?"

Jesus Christ.

Your hand grips the pencil tightly in your fingers. You will the flush from your body and you make the notes in the margins. Small, tight letters.

Gonna pet her for me?

More Spanish, more deep chuckles that you force yourself to ignore, more tight margin notes and then mercifully he's concluded the conversation.

"Sorry," Javier says replacing the phone to its cradle. "Personal call."

It's too much. The thudding between your legs is now overwhelming. You force yourself to swallow, nodding. "Mhmmm."

"Speaking of calls," Javier starts, half sitting on your desk. "That's two wins to your zero, if memory serves."

You pretend you haven't heard him. Your right hand is hurriedly making notes while the left lies next to the page. Javier's fingers trail over your wrist, slipping under and you know he's trying to feel your pulse.

"Should we discuss my prize?"

" Peña -"

"I did your paperwork for a month," Javier tells you, his fingers still on your wrist. "Today marks thirty days. I even dressed up for the occasion."

Jesus, that's why he's wearing the suit?

"And now I want my reward for winning," Javier murmurs with an amused grin. "But I promise you, mine is much more pleasant for both of us."

He removes his hand from your wrist in order to slip a piece of paper over to you at your desk. You don't move to grab it; you just stare at it, your heart hammering.

"My address," he informs you when you make no attempt to open it.

His address to his apartment. The same one you heard him take that prostitute.

"I'm not one of your girls," you hiss at him. "You don't get to tell me where and when and force me to fuck you by saying I owe you."

Javier goes quiet and for the first time you think you see hurt there in his dark eyes. It's blinked away just as fast.

///

He moves to from your desk sharply, suddenly uncomfortable with your close proximity. He throws himself behind his own desk, his face hot.

Force you?

So you really do think that lowly of him. He's never forced a woman to do anything. Suspicions long suppressed pop up, igniting in his chest as he tries not to look at you.

He’d always suspected you thought yourself better than him. But he’d always laughed it off, thought it strangely amusing. Thought you only felt that way because of rumors around the embassy.

He'd thought this whole thing was all in good fun. Teasing and sexy and a way to relax. He'd worn the suit because he was excited. Excited to talk to you about his prize and just excited to talk to you full stop.

When you aren't arguing with him you're making very good points about work. When you're not criticizing him, he finds you funny in a dark, dry way.

And he thought you were actually starting to enjoy his company. Hadn't he made you laugh? Didn't he bring you coffee every morning, one milk two sugars just like you always take it?

Where did things go wrong?

Because you're not smiling. In fact your face is miserable and anxious looking. It makes him wish he'd never started the whole thing in the first place.

There's a knock at the office door.

"Come in," you say with a tremor in your voice. Javier expects Carillo so he's surprised when a tall blonde enters the room.

Brad fucking Williams.

He turns his megawatt smile on you and Javier watches as your face previously pinched and anxious blooms into the most beautiful smile he's ever seen.

"Hi Brad."

"Hi osita," Brad teases.

Javier grits his teeth. That was your inside joke with him, not fucking Brad.

And why do you smile so bright when Brad calls you osita and not Javier? Why does Brad get flushed cheeks with wide smiles and Javier gets nothing but scowls?

Javier forces his attention back to his typewriter, feeding the paper into the roller.

"Hi Javier," Bradley says waving to Peña before striding over to your desk. Javier doesn't even look up but gives a sharp nod.

"Bradley."

Javier's eyes drag from his typewriter over to you. Brad is settled at the edge of your desk, sitting similar to how Peña does when he's irritating you.

"It's nice to see you again," you say with pink cheeks and bright eyes as you gaze up at him.

"Couldn't stay away."

"I'm glad."

Javier feels his eyes widening in shock at the realization of why you're acting like this. Are you still actually trying to flirt with this guy? This bland piece of toast on legs?

You give a small giggle at something Brad murmurs. A sound Javier has never heard from you. Ever. It sounds forced.

Javier scoffs out loud; only aware the sound has carried when he realizes that you're glaring over at him. You turn your attention back to Brad and the smile is back on your face.

"So are you around Friday night?" Brad murmurs. "I wanna pay you back for showing me around on Saturday."

Showing him around on Saturday? What the fresh hell is this? Since when? Is this why you're acting so weird?

"Sure, what did you have in mind?"

"Dinner? Dancing? There's that club everyone talks about here. Gusto I think it's called?"

"Let's do it. Sounds fun."

You nod, tilting forward slightly. When you do this, Javier (and Brad your intended recipient) can see the white lace of your bra peeking out from under your shirt.

Javier's mouth goes dry.

He hates that so much of your body is still left to be explored. To be seen, kneaded, touched, nipped, licked and sucked. And he hates that this giant, blonde bulk of a man standing by your desk is going to be the one to do it. Not Javier.

Fuck this.

///

Dinner and dancing at a club?

You can imagine few things worse.

You hate the pulsing music and dark, alcohol covered floors. You hate the men that grope at you and call you names in Spanish, ugly ones. You hate paying for overpriced drinks that they always mark up as soon as they see you – turista, they whisper.

But Brad is so handsome and sweet and if he wants to go dancing why shouldn't you just suck it up and try to have a good time?

You subtly press your arms together hoping to get Brad's attention that way. So far he's been impossibly gentlemanly, and when you tilt over exposing the lace edges of your bra, he darts his gaze away quickly, his face flushing.

"Fuck this."

You hear the mumble from across the office and you both watch as Javier pushes from his desk with a grunt, striding from the room with his leather jacket under his arm. The door to the office slams behind him.

You shrug, looking up at Brad in confusion. He shrugs back but then becomes emboldened now that it's just the two of you.

"Well, I'm looking forward to Saturday," Brad says, his tongue trailing over his lower lip. "But I don't want to wait until then for this."

His fingers fly to your chin, holding you in place as he lowers his face to yours. You feel the soft graze of his lips against yours and you smile. He's so impossibly gentle, so sweet. And the kiss is just that, gentle and sweet.

He pulls back from you looking shy and smiling. "I hope that was okay?"

"More than okay."

"So, Saturday?"

"Why not tonight?" You offer huskily because at the sensation of Brad's kiss you feel your entire body starting to thrum with anticipation. The arousal pooling between your legs as you stare up at him thinking of all the things you could do tonight.

He could fuck you over your des-

Nope. No no no. Stop that. Plenty of other places to have sex!

Bradley is surprised at your response but he quirks a smile. "Working late for Carillo "

Oh right. People actually work here.

He pushes off your desk, grinning at you. "I'll see you Saturday, osita-"

Osita.

Dark brown eyes flash behind your eyelids.

You wave Brad off, glancing back at your desk and the paper scattered on top of it. Your eyes move guiltily to the files Peña completed for you last night.

Doing your paperwork for a month. Just as what? A bargaining tool? A way to ensure you’ll sleep with him again?

Why can't you stop thinking about Javier? It's not like he's a particularly nice part of your day. It's not like he causes you anything other than grief and frustration.

And yet as the pulsing between your legs continues all you can think of is him and how he wore that suit today. That’s sweet isn’t it? Almost affectionate in a teasing sort of way.

But he was so angry when he left. Confusing you, distracting you. Was he upset by that offhand remark about the prostitutes?

"Why do I care?" You say out loud to yourself.

Who cares if Javier stormed off? Who cares if he had that sad look in his eyes before? Who fucking cares?

You sure don't.

///

Javier Peña’s apartment is a clear reflection of who he is. It's bare, no mementos hung on the walls and most of his items still in boxes. He never unpacked them when he moved here and he doubts he ever will.

His bed is his only luxury, lush with sweet smelling pillows and thick sheets. But he's on the sofa, a blanket from home over his legs and his thoughts on the only two topics that occupy his mind these days.

Capturing Escobar.

And you.

It's weird how much you occupy his thoughts. At first he understood it, this distraction of wanting to fuck you. But now he has and it's still not enough. It's actually worse.

There will always be more to discover in you. New areas of flesh to taste and pinch and kiss. New sounds to draw from you. New positions and places.

Taking Sofia to bed with you listening on the phone had been electric. At first it had been a tease, a way to get under your skin. But the more he'd talked, envisioning she was you, the more he'd wanted it to be you.

When you hadn't hung up, he'd known. You want him just as much as he wants you. So why are you playing coy? Why are you acting like you want that fucking Williams agent with all the charm of a boiled potato?

If you were Javier's girl it wouldn't be dancing at some club. Anyone who has known you five minutes knows how much you hate that shit.

No, it would be dinner in some exotic locale where the two of you would be tucked away together drinking good wine and eating good food. And laughing. He loves making you laugh. Then it would be skinny dipping in the Laguna Chisaca, kissing in the darkness. Then he'd take you home, showering the sand from your bodies together, fucking you there against the tile before taking you to his bed where he'd make you come in any position you wanted as many times as you wanted.

The thought of such an evening has him hard and he's sure his tip is already weeping. Javier resigns himself to another night of self pleasure when there's a knock at the door. It's late, too late for a social call.

He moves to the door and his heart gallops even as he tells himself it can't be you. Maybe it's Murphy or Carillo or-

It's you.

Hair wild and face flushed as you worry your bottom lip. When he fully opens the door and you tilt back to look into his eyes he feels his stomach jump. He affects a casual pose, one forearm on the doorframe as his dark eyes scan your body.

"Osita," he rumbles. "This is a pleasant surprise."

He sees you bristle at the nickname before you're pushing past him into the apartment, as if by doing this you can't back out.

"One last time," you tell him, shrugging off your jacket. "Tonight and then it's done."

Javier watches you toss the jacket onto a chair, your eyes going around to survey his place before landing back on him. He responds with a smirk and a rising brow.

"Better make it count, then."

///

"I'm not saying that."

You shake your head as you take in what he's requested. Your cheeks are burning just at the thought. "When you lost all you had to do was my paperwork."

"For an entire month."

"I'll do yours," you insist, your voice taking on a plaintive edge. "For two months."

"But that's not what I want," Peña says almost laughing at how horrified you look. "I want this."

The two of you are standing in his kitchen. You're holding an empty water glass, glancing around his sparse apartment. Hasn't he lived here for several years?

"How am I supposed to look you in the face after this, Peña?"

Javier's hands are stemmed at his hips and he's giving you an incredulous look.

"You've sucked my cock, let me fuck you bareback and made yourself come at your desk," Peña says with amusement bordering on awe. "And this is what you find embarrassing?"

You know he's right, but in every one of those instances you'd never had to do anything you didn't personally find sexy. This... verbal prompt however? It makes you pull a face.

"It's so . . . weird" you insist.

There are so many worse things Javier could have requested. Javier moves the empty glass from your grip to the table. Then his hand slides along your side, pulling you gently to face him. He tilts forward.

No kissing

You tilt away until his mouth grazes your earlobe.

"Just try it," Javier coos. "That's all I ask."

You take a moment, your eyes flicking over his. He looks so calm, so amused. His dark eyes are simultaneously warm and heated. You take a deep breath nodding. "P-"

"No, not yet," Javier insists in a whisper, his finger coming to press against your lips, stilling them. "I'll let you know when."

You roll your eyes. "Let's do this then."

The smile is still there in his face but his eyes tell the different story. His entire disposition changes and he takes a step back from you.

"I'm not going to force you to do it," Peña says and suddenly that haunted, sad look is back from this afternoon.

"I know," you reply just as quickly. "I know you're not."

"And we don't have to do. .. this " He motions between the two of you. You frown.

"You didn't make me come here tonight. I chose to."

He nods, satisfied that this is cleared up. You extend your hand to him, nodding that you're ready. He smiles that warm, playful smile of his and takes your hand in his. He begins to lead you into the hall.

"Not your bed," you say, your eyes turning pleading when Javier rolls eyes. "It's my only rule for tonight. I promise."

For some reason the thought of doing it in Javier's bed feels too intense, too domestic.

He nods and now guides you to the sofa pressed against the wall. Without pausing he removes his shirt, leaving him shirtless in jeans. You can't help it admire the breadth of his shoulders and the tapering of his waist. He reaches a hand to the belt loop of your skirt, hooking his finger there and tugging you into him.

Your hands fly to his chest for purchase and you marvel at how smooth his skin is, how taut against sinewy muscle.

"You nervous, osita?" He murmurs, his lips brushing against yours so lightly you're not sure it happened. "You're trembling."

You are. You're fucking trembling and he's barely touched you.

Get it together.

You're just so desperate for release after seeing Brad and his sweet mouth and you know that Javier is all tongue and fluid hips. He makes you feel feverish just being this close to him.

"I'm just cold."

"Then let me warm you up."

And now his fingers have come to the buttons of your blouse. He undoes them quickly, his breath growing labored.

Your bra is unremarkable. A simple lace thing that you wear because it doesn't show under your blouse. But when Peña sees it, it's like Christmas come early.

"Always wondered what you wore under there," Peña says softly. Before you can assure him that you have much better under things his mouth is back on yours, his hands dragging down the cups of your bra so he can push you out of it.

Your nipples hit the air; pebbling and you inhale sharply against his mouth. He kneads your tits, tongue laving over your nipples until you're shaking against him.

He looks to your relaxed face and feels his cock being strangled by his jeans

"Want you out of that skirt," he groans. His hand reaches for the zipper at the back but you still him.

"Condom," you remind him. You don't want to start and get carried away. Javier looks confused.

"You're on the pill."

"And I heard you on the phone with that woman," you tell him pointedly. "So condom."

"She was clean," Javier tells you, pouting. "Plus you heard me, I wore one with her."

"After you'd had quite a bit of fun," you say, tilting your head back. "Condom or I'm leaving, Javier."

Javier sighs heavily through his nose. Regret regret regret. He's going to the clinic tomorrow to prove he's clean. He only wants to fuck you without a condom. He only wants to fuck you.

"Gotta make me hard first," he whispers as if he isn't already well on his way. You can see the bulge in his jeans from here.

Nevertheless you nod, looking thoughtful before moving to the buttons on your blouse and swiftly unbuttoning the rest of them before letting the blouse fall to the floor. Javier watches, still half dressed as you reach behind and remove the clasp of your bra, unhooking and feeling as your breasts are released.

You don't miss the sharp inhale from Javier as he stares. The bra joins the blouse on the floor at your feet, discarded and forgotten. You stand before him in just your skirt.

"Does this help?" You murmur.

"Yes," is his immediate reply. You watch as he fumbles with his jeans button, slipping them down over his narrow hips. Then he's naked and Jesus, he's gorgeous.

You get it.

You get why the women gaze at him when he saunters by. Now that you've been fucked by him, now that you've seen him naked and bronzed and beautiful you get it.

After taking a moment to take in the sight of his unabashed naked frame you stand there before him in only your skirt your own chest heaving in anticipation. You wonder what he sees when he sees you naked. He can't be as struck dumb as you.

You slowly move your hands to cup your breasts, forefinger dragging along the hard nipples. Javier is just standing there open mouthed, staring. You feel antsy and irritated that you're not fucking yet.

"We doing this or not, Peña?"

Javier snaps to as if being woken by a hypnotist. He reaches into the table next to the sofa pulling it the small square foil. Always prepared. The condom is opened, and you watch as Javier moves it around the blushing head of his cock with practiced ease. He does it quickly, well versed, and the sight hits you between the legs.

How does he manage to make that look sexy?"?

"You wanna do the honors?" He quips when he catches you watching him.

He's surprised when you nod, replacing his hand with your own as you roll it down the remaining length of his shaft. You don't look at his face, can't get stuck in his eyes. You feel your cheeks warming when his thrusts forward in your hands.

"You like my cock, pretty girl?"

You remain silent, sliding the condom down, watching Javier's eyes shutter as it reaches the base of his cock.

"You know the secretary Virginia? She said you were big but I always thought she was exaggerating."

You can see the immediate delight in his face at that. You've finished putting on the condom but it doesn't stop you from gently stroking him through it, fascinated at the feeling of the latex over his stiff cock.

He shudders at the sensation before he takes your hand and leads you to the sofa. He drops down naked, cock poised.

You feel as his hand comes to the zipper at your skirt. He unzips quickly, eager to see more as he pushes it down over your hips.

The skirt pools at your ankles leaving you wearing nothing but the pale blue panties you tossed on fresh from the laundry. In this moment you wish you had chosen something sexier than blue cotton.

Javier says nothing, simply drags his hand over his mouth and murmurs something in Spanish. You curl your fingers over the top of your panties, getting ready to step out of them.

"Slower," Javier tells your hips in a low murmur. He shifts, his arms adjusting over the back of the sofa.

"Striptease wasn't part of the deal," you say embarrassed. It makes you feel too exposed, even in the darkening light of his apartment. "You want a good show; go see one of your girls."

You don't say this with malice, just amusement. You even smile over at him when you do. Javier pulls his heavy gaze from the center of your thighs, creating a scorching trail all the way to your eyes.

"You don't even get it, do you?"

"What?"

"How fucking sexy you are."

You feel your entire body flooding with shy delight at Javier's husky declaration. But you feel too observed, too seen. It makes you feel funny. You want to get this whole thing started.

"Enough," you chide as you quickly strip off your panties and then cover your sex with your hand. Javier looks pained at this, his brows saddling.

"No, baby," Javier croons, pulling your hands away so he can see. "Don't hide -"

"Don't call me that," you snap, hating the newest nickname he’s given you.

Osita. Pretty girl. Well, the latter isn't the worst. But nicknames like baby? Those feel too intimate. Just as if you fucked in his bed. You pull your wrists from his hands. Then the dazed look is gone from Javier's eyes, like he's trying to control himself.

"So, you and Virginia talk about my dick a lot?” Javier asks, prompted by your previous conversation.

"No," you shake your head smirking at him. "I just listen. You have quite the reputation."

Javier chuckles, welcoming you into his lap with outstretched arms. You move into them and his hands slide down your spine, coming to curve around the globes of your ass, urging you down.

You bracket his thighs with your own as you crawl into his lap, your hands going to his shoulders to steady yourself. Your chest is at his mouth level as you do this. Javier tilts his mouth to capture one of your straining nipples, licking and nipping as you let out a sharp intake of breath at the pleasant sensation.

Javier shifts, laying down the length of the sofa. He keeps you balanced on his hips, but you have to grab the back of the sofa with one hand to keep steady. Javier gazes up at you, his head tilted by the arm of the sofa.

"You know what the guys say about you?"

The amusement drops from your face. "Guys talk about me?"

"Last week," Javier tells you, hips shifting as he urges you to sink down his bobbing length. "Haldeman was asking Ortiz who he thought was the most fuckable in the department."

You barely interact with anyone outside your own office. You didn't even think you'd be on their radar.

"Gross."

"You won by a landslide," Javier tells you through a groan as the lips of your pussy circle the head of his cock. You hate that this pleases you in any way. You don't want to think of an office of senior agents talking about wanting to fuck you. It's disgusting and what if Brad heard?

Brad.

You smile as thoughts of Brad's mouth guide your slick cunt down Javier's waiting cock.

Javier lets out a soft hissing noise when you finally slide down his length. He's still so fucking disappointed to be wearing a condom but then you start rocking against him and all the animosity drains from his body because it feels good. Really good.

He watches as your brows knit together when you take him, your mouth hitched. You look fucking gorgeous, sitting there on his hips, his cock buried in you. His hips shift, urging you to rock against him.

"And you know what I was thinking the whole time I was with those agents, osita?"

"Mmm?"

"That I'm the only one who knows what this pussy feels like," Javier grunts, hands on your hips. "The only one who's seen your needy cunt just aching to be filled with my come."

You suppress a low moan. Javier has a way of saying the exact filthy thing that you need to hear. The exact thing to make that pull at your core go deep.

His hands come to grip your tits as you ride him, curving and kneading with his long fingers. Then those digits disappear into his mouth coming out wet and twisting your sensitive nipples as you hiss in pleasure.

You tilt back, taking him deeper. It hits something inside you that blurs your vision. Javier's cock notches so perfectly inside you it makes you whimper, your body jolting at the steady pace he begins.

"Those sounds," Javier groans, his hands spreading over your lower back and guiding you to just the right angle. His right hand snakes over the crease of your thigh to find your clit flush with his hips. He circles it, tapping and causing a deep tugging sensation at your core. You grunt against him, rolling your hips.

"Take it," Javier urges. "Take it all, pretty girl."

It feels surreal to be riding Javier Peña in his place, on his ugly sofa. Fingers of night creep along the walls of his apartment as headlights pass by, the sound of traffic just outside.

He feels good. That's the thing, just sitting here, pussy swallowing him, Javier feels good. One of your hands is still on the back of the sofa, keeping you balanced as you begin to shift over him. The other covers his hand on your hips, nudging you to and fro.

You rock against each other slowly, languidly. Javier is so good at it, touching and circling your clit just enough before ebbing away, bringing you so close and then taking you to a deeper pleasure. You don’t know how long this goes on before the tension is back, your focus stuck on making sure he comes.

This is Javier’s reward, his prize and you don't mind him taking it. You still feel terrible about what you said before.

"No," Javier admonishes gently.

Your eyes fly open to see him frowning up at you. "What?"

Javier looks at your face concerned before his hand takes yours and pries it from the sofa back. He guides you by the wrist to his chest.

"Put your hands here. Both of them."

You look at him strangely, leaning slightly forward to place both your hands palm down on his pectorals. His broad chest flexes under your touch.

"Lean forward.”

You do, confused as to what this is all about when your body tilts and he shifts his hips up. Suddenly you're hitting him at a new angle. A new angle that feels really fucking good.

"F-Fuck!"

"There she is," Peña smiles up at you when your eyes shut, pleasure overtaking your body at the sensation. "I need you feeling good."

You do. It feels really really good to roll your hips over his, to take him deep and to just enjoy it. There will be no further bet, no further prize so you can just enjoy this night.

"Gonna bounce on it, osita?"

He asks it like a question, even lifts his brows but it's no inquiry. He's already started thrusting up and down, delighted with you when you nod. You lift your hips up, circling and then slowly starting to bounce against his hips, sliding along his pistoning cock.

"So pretty," Javier coos as you take him. "Such a pretty girl riding me."

Your palms are still on his chest, your head pitched forward as you bounce. You feel your arousal dripping down his cock as he fucks you.

"So fucking wet," Javier says in a voice of soft awe. "Are you close?"

Something in the surprise of his tone makes you feel embarrassed, like you shouldn't already be so close. You go to tilt your face away from him but his hands are coming to move the hair from your face, cupping your cheeks almost affectionately if you didn't know him better.

"Don't be shy," he commands, and you nod. His hands slide over your breasts again, thumbs grazing over those straining nubs. "Doing so good, pretty girl."

It feels so good like this, so perfect that he's calling you pretty girl and how his teeth grit when he’s grunting up, fucking you. His dark eyes are heavy lidded, and the sight turns you on more than you comprehend and now it's starting; that impossibly good feeling that borders on desperation. The fervent need to climax but not rush things that makes you whimper out short little whines as you rock against him.

"I know," Javier soothes, as if this is painful for you. "I know, baby. Gonna feel so good so soon. Gonna make you feel so fucking good."

You're having a hard time focusing on anything anymore. The fact that he's called you baby, the sweetness to his tone. All overlooked as you chase your climax.

His thumb is circling your clit again as he's thrusting up into you, his hand on your thigh and you can feel yourself getting so fucking close. You just need a little more pressure and it'll feel so good. You're so close. You start chanting under your breath.

"More .. More...."

Javier can see your slackened jaw, the way your eyes are rolling into the back of your head and he knows you're close. You move lazily, feeling absolutely wrecked already. Peña does his best not to grin up at you. You’ll take it for mockery when its anything but.

"I wanna give you more, but you need to give me what I asked for," Javier tells you in the voice of a gentle teacher. "Remember?"

The rhythm is slowing, his hips formerly bouncing you up and down on his cock now barely move. He's waiting, looking up at you expectantly. You growl down at him exasperatedly. Javier just smiles up at you in response, the grin now full of gentle teasing. He wonders if you're actually going to say it.

It's all he wants, just to make you say it so that you'll begin blushing the entire length of your body.

It's amusement really, something to tease you about later. He loves how you look when you're angry with him; all pink cheeks and bright eyes.

He knows you hate nicknames and this one in particular. And that's exactly why he picked it as his prize.

You'd been matched with Javier early on in your position at the embassy and instructed to go on a ride along with him one morning. The object of the ride along was to get information from a new intel from a woman that just so happened to be from Peña's favorite cat house.

From the minute he'd entered the brothel before you, you'd heard nothing but an onslaught of the term from the women flocking around their favorite DEA agent/customer. Beautiful women swarmed him, some pressing kisses to his cheek, others simply smiling at him.

Javier had smiled crookedly each time he caught you rolling your eyes when the term came up. You told him later it was disgusting. He'd just laughed.

"C'mon, pretty girl."

He shifts his hips to slowly circle out of you before thrusting brutally back inside. As his cock grazes your clit in the ascent you give a needful yelp

"Give it to me."

He sees the way you steel yourself, the way you try to focus even though Javier can see you sliding your hips up and down him the best you can until you finally groan.

"Si...papi."

The second he hears it, the honorific you'd been avoiding, he smiles widely. He can see how red you've gotten and you're rewarded with your hips being pulled viciously against Peña's as he fucks you again in earnest.

"Yes," you groan out.

It feels so good. He hits so deep. Your tits bounce heavily as he thrusts up into you, holding you by the waist so he can drive himself into that sweet spot you can never reach yourself.

"So good," you're moaning without even thinking about it.

"So fucking good," Javier reaffirms. "Taking papi's cock so well."

Javier looks forward to brushing by you at work, pretending to grab a coffee or a file just so he can lower his mouth to your ear and ask in the lowest voice he can manage if you've "been good for papi?' he can't wait to see you get flustered at work.

You suddenly toss your hair from your face, biting your lower lip and looking so fucking good as you move against him.

"More," you moan, your hands over his that hold your hips. "Please papi, more."

The amusement drains from Peña's gaze as you thrust your hips against his. You're so needy, so desperate and you say the word like it was meant for Javier alone. Peña never expected you to be into the whole 'papi' thing. The last thing he'd expected was for you to gaze down at him, still bouncing, and say it again.

"Fuck," he growls, his hands on your hips thrusting you further and faster along his cock. You're so wet you can take him even deeper without trying. "Say it again."

He knows you're emboldened by his own delighted reaction and this turns him on even more. You're turned on because he's turned on. You're smiling down at him, your body warm and rolling against his.

"Need your big cock, papi," you cry out, no longer inhibited. "Fuck me deep, please."

Javier can tell now that you're actually into it. The way your pupils have blown wide. Or maybe it's how you can see that Javier likes it and his arousal is turning you on.

Suddenly he needs to hold you to him, to feel your entire body warm in his arms.

He shifts you until his spine is against the back of the sofa and you're sitting in his lap, still rocking as he wraps his arms around you, banding against your lower back. Your eyes are unfocused, your body movements have become slow and lazy.

She's drunk on my cock, Javier thinks smugly, his mouth goes to your neck, pressing damp kisses there before pulling back, still rocking into you.

"Is my girl feeling good?"

"Mmm so good, baby," you slur not thinking, your forehead pressing against his as your hips roll. Javier lets out a strangled noise as his cock drives deeper in and out, in and out.

He urges your mouth to his and in the heat of the moment you eagerly kiss him back, all rules forgotten. His lips are so full and soft and when he kisses you, you're convinced you feel it everywhere. You let yourself surrender, your eyes closed as he kisses you deeply, licking into your mouth.

"You have no idea how fucking sexy you sound," Javier tells you between kisses. "So fucking sexy bouncing on my cock and calling me that."

You smile, preening under the praise. Pleasure just keeps rippling through you like tiny little massages everywhere. You feel sleepy but in the best possible way. It makes you want to be nice and soft for him.

"I like making you feel good," you murmur serenely.

He licks into your mouth once more and is rewarded with a soft sigh from you and your arms wrapping around his neck to hold him close.

"Gonna come for me pretty girl?" Javier asks, his hands skimming all over your back before pulling you tightly against him.

"Wanna come for you," you tell him, your temple against his. Javier feels his hips stutter and decides to press his luck.

"Am I making you feel good, baby?"

"Mhmmm."

"You like fucking me don't you?"

"Yes, Javi," you gasp before you kiss him again, your mind full of everything and nothing all at once.

Your arms are around his shoulders and you must have done something right because you hear the moan ripped from him and feel him empty into the condom.

You follow in quick succession, grunting and rutting against him calling his name as you come, falling against his shoulder as you do.

///

Moments span, liquid time where everything feels hazy and sluggish. Moments spent with your forehead on Javier's shoulder while he breathes in the crook of your neck.

This is when your arms should drop from around his neck and his from around your waist, but they don't. You continue straddling him as he softens, your body

"Fuck it's freezing," you finally say shivering. Javier smirks, reaching to the far back of the sofa and bringing the crochet flower blanket his mother made for him as a child around your shoulders.

He wraps you in it, only your face peeking out at him as you continue to sit straddling his lap. You give a yawn, drawing an indulgent smile from him.

"Sleepy?"

"Mhmm."

"Just rest."

You're too tired to fight him on it. Too tired to tell him it's too intimate. He shifts until he's laying down the length of the sofa, bringing you with him in his arms. You nestle in his arms, tucked up with the blanket over both of you. You roll to your side, your hand going over his sternum.

Your eyes are shuttering closed, feeling the steady beat of his hearts dance under your fingertips. His large hand covers yours there.

"I'm sorry," you whisper.

"What for?" Javier asks sleepily, his eyes closed. You realize he must be drifting off as well.

"The thing I said about you forcing me. I know you'd never force me or anyone into bed with you. It was a shitty thing to say."

"You were just living up to your nickname," Javier smirks, his hand stroking yours over his chest. "Looks sweet but oh, that bite, osita"

He tries to keep it light. He has no desire to make you feel shitty right now. Not after such a great night.

"Javier."

Javier cracks open an eye to look at you. You so rarely use his first name. You're propped up on his shoulder, your hand on his sternum.

"Mmm?"

You give him a level stare, urging him to truly listen.

"I'm sorry."

The amusement is gone now, leaving only dark-eyed vulnerability in Peña. The kind you saw when he left your desk earlier that day. Your eyes swim over each other's and Peña can't help but trace a knuckle over your cheek before he nods.

"I know, baby."

It slips out of him, the muttered term of endearment. But you don't flinch or cringe from him this time. You just nod, your head tilted back down.

"Wake me up in an hour," you tell him sleepily. "I'll leave then. I just need a quick nap."

Javier murmurs something against the crown of your head but you're already asleep.

///

It's light when you wake up. Well past an hour has passed because it's clearly almost morning. The early sounds of Bogotá are outside the window. You hold in a groan.

Thanks a lot Peña.

Javier holds you tightly in his arms; his breathing huffed over your cheeks. In your sleep your bodies have both found refuge under the blanket together, legs entwined. He's hard against you, morning arousal nothing new to you and you ignore it, casting a sleepy look at your colleague.

His face is relaxed, his full lips parted as he breathes slow and even. You're shocked at how sweet he looks when his face is unguarded. No sneers or smirks, just sweet unguarded Javier.

You feel a strange pull, a slight feeling of affection. Maybe he's not as annoying as you always thought.

A still very sleepy part of you considers waking him up, urging him onto his back so you can fuck again but really slow.

You inch back off the sofa and out of his arms, pulling on your clothes scattered nearby. When you're dressed and your purse is over your shoulder you stop by the sofa. You don't know why, what compels you to do so. But you take a moment to stare down at Javier's sleeping face one last time.

His mouth is so impossibly pouty, so plump. His dark lashes fan out over his cheeks. His hair is tousled from sleep. He's so pretty. You can't stop yourself from bending down and pressing your lips against his gently, marvelling at how soft and warm they feel against yours. Quickly you pull back, sure not to rouse him.You leave, trying to keep the sound of the closing door behind you as quiet as possible.

As soon as the door closes, a very awake Javier opens his eyes.

#javier pena fanfiction #javier pena smut #javier pena x you #javier pena narcos #pedro pascal javier #javier pena x reader #Javier Peña #narcos fanfiction #javi pena #fanfics #fanficion #fanfiction #smut #coworkers #he falls first

73 notes · View notes