mswarriorbabe80

[mswarriorbabe80]

I'm still here, everyone.

Chronic illness is horrible and my multiple sclerosis is steadily progressing. It is very difficult to deal with. Maybe it's also a mid-forties (mid life) crisis too.. but I have been in a funk pretty much since Christmas. That being said, I'm still here, still very much part of the Pedro fandom, and I'm working to drag my butt out of the gutter and get back to posting on a regular basis.

[mswarriorbabe80]

I AM INCOHERENT

[mswarriorbabe80]

His Worm Wife

summary: It’s a Friday night, and you ask your husband, Javier, that very important question every girl wants to know their partner’s answer to—

“Would you still love me if I was a worm?” 

rating: G (This is FLUFF! And a little silly. No y/n, Husband Javier Peña, Dad-to-be Javier Peña, Javier being so in love with his wife, domestic fluff, pregnancy, language, feelings, Javier being very serious about his answer)

pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader

word count: 575

a/n: This can be read as a standalone or as part of the Learning to Live ‘verse. To me, it is canon. Anon asked, “What would Javi answer if Cielito asked him “would you still love me if I was a worm?”” And the answer to the ask was SO CUTE I needed to write it out. Please enjoy this unbeta’d fluff!

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs are appreciated!

Series Masterlist - Masterlist

“Javi?”

It’s a Friday night, and you’re lying in bed with your head propped by a fluffy pillow and your shirt pushed up to just below your breasts. The love of your life and your husband, Javier, was further down on the mattress, his feet and some of his legs hanging off the bed and resting his head on your belly, your fingers sliding through the soft, thick strands of his hair. 

There’d been a lull in your conversation before you spoke, both comfortable in the silence and the other’s company. 

“Yes, Cielito?” he answers. 

“Would you still love me if I was a worm?”

For seconds, maybe even a minute, the only sounds in the bedroom are the gentle hum of the air conditioning and the floorboards creaking in the apartment above as the occupants move about. 

“What…?” he finally asks. 

“Would you still love me if I was a worm?”

“How did you become a worm…?” He sounds so confused. 

“I don’t know, magic? A curse?”

“Okay…” He moves, making a pained groan as he crawls up your body and ends up on his side with his arm beside your head to hold himself up, his face coming into your line of vision. His soft, big, chocolate-colored eyes are on yours. “Can I be a worm, too?” he asks, his other palm a warm comfort on your tummy. 

His question makes you smile. “Unfortunately, no. I’d be doomed as a worm, and you’d still be human.”

He frowns, letting out a sigh like he’s beyond disappointed that he can’t be a worm, too, and you have to hold back a giggle. 

“Yes, I’d still love you,” he says. “I love you as a human. I’d love you as a worm. I’d love you if you were a—I don’t fucking know—a flower or some shit. I love you no matter what, but I prefer you as a human—really fucking prefer you as a human, carrying our baby.” He rubs your stomach.  

Tears are falling down your cheeks, unable to keep them at bay no matter how hard you’ve tried. 

“I can’t believe I’m crying about you loving me if I was a worm.”

He smiles, the hand on your belly coming up and gently wiping away the wetness under your eyes and on your cheeks. 

“It’s the pregnancy hormones, mi amor (my love),” he replies. 

His palm returns to the place that has become its home on your stomach, where you aren’t even showing yet, but he always wants to touch and marvel because of the baby growing inside.  

“You cried yesterday when I asked if you liked your ice cream cone,” he continues. 

You sniffle. “It was a really good ice cream cone.”

“Yeah, I know it was.” He presses a kiss to your forehead, the tip of your nose, and finally, your lips. When he pulls back, he asks, “Where did the worm question come from?”

“Oh, Robyn.” She’s your best friend. “She asked Seb the same thing.” That’s her boyfriend and Javi’s cousin. 

His eyebrow lifts, looking amused. “What was his answer?”

“He told her he’d still love her, and she’d have the nicest terrarium to live in.”

He scoffs. “Yours would be better,” he says. 

A snort escapes you. “Yeah? Mine would be better?” 

His nose nuzzles yours. “Absolutely. Only the best for my worm wife.” 

Air sputters from between your lips and quickly evolves into full-on laughter. 

Series Masterlist - Masterlist

Thank you for reading! If you'd like to be tagged in my fics, please fill out the form in my bio, on my masterlist, or just let me know!

Tagging: @theorganasolo @nicolethered @nessamc @vanemando15 @fiscinthirst t @melancholyy-hill @hnt-escape @sherala007 @jadesabre83 @rainbeaubrightchild @blub-senpai @pedrohoe04 @theherothesavior @captain-creampuff @javiersjeans @zetasaturno99 @amb11 @lovedbyth3sun @siidereeus @marvelousmermaid @mrszdjarin @themarcusmoreno @ms-loverman-066 @star-wars-fan-2005 @kissing-stars @chloeinpink k @notyourlovemonkey @unofficialavenger90 @fictionismyreality @sheetsof-lennon @damnyoupedro @katareyoudrilling @iamskyereads @enjoyourlattebitch @daddydindjarin @absurdthirst @kirsteng42 @littlemisspascal @athalien @thevoiceinyourheadx @elegantduckturtle @harriedandharassed @girlofchaos @mswarriorbabe80 @theewokingdead @guess-my-next-obsession @pedrostories @deadhumourist @pretty-brown-eyess

[mswarriorbabe80]

One of the best Javi P. Series I have read. Its just sooooo perfect ❤️

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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[mswarriorbabe80]

Writers' Iron Chef #13: Lovesick

[PROMPT] Patching up a wound

[ADDITIONAL PROMPT] “Why would you put yourself through something like that?”

[TIME LIMIT] Optional, 10 minutes prep. time 30 minutes writing time Optional, 10 minutes editing time

Pairing: Joel Miller x GN!Reader

Rating: M, descriptions of wound care and blood, allusions to dubcon due to drinking and drug use. While this story is not explicit, my blog and the content shared on it is 18+ so MINORS DNI.

Summary: You've been greedy for Joel for too long.

Notes: Written for Writers’ Iron Chef Prompt 13

I've had a Joel story idea bouncing around in my head for several months now, but it's not much more than disconnected scenes and a vibe, you know? I decided to try and exorcise a part with this prompt. This was imspired by a scene in the movie Foe with Saoirse Ronan and Paul Mescal (which was excellent, btw) that got the creative juices flowing.

Thanks to @writersironchef for always giving the best prompts!

The blood that runs into the sink isn’t yours, but it is Joel Miller’s and that’s hardly better.

Laying the needle and scissors beside the sink, you dry your hands on a towel that doesn’t make you feel much cleaner. There’s probably still blood under your nails, half moons of frenzied memories you can look back on when you’re in bed tonight.

“Joel, what the fuck?”

“I need…”

He didn’t have to say much more, and your stomach sours for it. Joel could say he needed you to balance on the edge of a razor and you’d do it just for the fact that he needed you. Pitiful, lovesick, desperate you.

He’d shredded his back coming back into the QZ scrambling away from patrol lights. Tess split off from him, trades to be made and deals best done without her loyal attack dog. So he’d stumbled back to his apartment, stopping just long enough to knock at yours across the hall.

“Jesus Christ, how did you fuck yourself up this badly?”

“FEDRA’s patrolling our usual spots, think they’re onto us…fuck!”

You salved his wounds with apologies as you cleaned grit from long scrapes and worried at the beads of blood that melted across your fingers. The worst was a gash you had to close, infection too present a worry. Hardening your gut, you tried to disassociate how much like sewing leather it felt. Joel bit down on his belt and stuffed his face in a pillow, but fists still slammed on walls around you at his ruckus. 

“I’m done, I’m done, it’s finished.”

“Jesus ‘n Mary, there ain’t much left for you to piece back together at this rate.”

Walking back to the bed, he’s disheveled but alive. He asks for booze, which you find in a high cabinet. He asks for pills, reluctantly revealed to live in a false drawer bottom. You don’t have to say he can trust you with these secrets. Vices were too expensive for you most days. Once he downs both he lays back, injury padded with the cleanest cloths you could find. His breathing hitches, pants in pain, then slows as the drugs and drink take effect. 

And then it’s just you, sitting next to your neighbor as his body releases. 

You should go. Tess would be back any time now and you didn’t want her to see your longing. There are whispers about if Joel is hers, and while you know they belong to each other in a way drenched in darkness, you’ve never been sure if the claim is on their hearts as well. It’s just vague enough of a partnership that when Joel has a good day and shares an extra ration card, your heart flutters. 

But it’s too dangerous. He’s too dangerous, the both of them. You can’t get mixed up in whatever they have going on. Why would you put yourself through something like that?

It’s not the first time he’s come home bloodied, and not the first time you’ve pulled him back together. There’s trust there, but also foolish hope that life could march on and a man could desire you again. Maybe even care for you enough to break teeth and bones. 

A brush against your arm turns you back to Joel, eyes half-lidded but trained hazily on you. One large hand skims over your shoulder, down your arm and lands heavily in your lap. 

“Joel?” you ask, looking down at his thick fingers splayed across your thighs. He hums, low and rumbly as his lips part. 

He’s surely too far gone to know you’re even here. It would be best to slip out unnoticed, talk to Tess tomorrow about checking his injury for infection. 

But you don’t. You’re frozen as the calloused skin of his thumb catches on the worn fibers of your jeans. It’s a caress you haven’t known for years. 

He doesn’t know it’s you.

“Joel,” you say again, and enough courage bolsters you to slide your hand into his palm, the other circling his wrist. He’s so warm, thick-skinned against your fingers. You start to lift from the bed, intending to place his hand where you sat, when it makes a drunken path to cup your chin. Pressure against your jaw turns your face to him spread out on the bed beside you. His chest is bare, light perspiration beading along the cut of his collarbone. He licks his lips slowly, the slip of tongue drawing an ache up from the deepest well. 

“Hey there,” he drawls, and god, you could shatter from it. Tears build in your eyes but you can’t move, his hands drawing you down to him. 

“Joel, it’s…I’m not…” you choke out. It’s a final defense. He’ll hate you tomorrow, but you’ll have said something. His lip quirks, not quite a smile. 

“I know,” he husks before leading your lips to meet his.

You’re not sure he does, but you’re too greedy to say more.

END

[mswarriorbabe80]

So there is apparently a Tik tok trend for an airport life hack where able-bodied people are requesting wheelchairs to get through TSA and customs faster.

As someone in their twenties who can walk but still needs a wheelchair in an airport because I can't walk long distances or fast with my disability, this trend is very frustrating. I can't tell you how many times I've gotten dirty looks from elderly people or been made to wait for a wheelchair because people assume that I'm fine when I'm sitting down and not moving. Idk. There are a group of disabled persons called ambulatory users who rely on mobility aids while still being able to walk on good days. They are often stigmatized by people's assumptions. Please don’t this! You are making it harder for people who are invalidated on a daily basis for not being "correctly disabled"

[mswarriorbabe80]

Hot criminal x lawyer f!reader.

This is NOT a RPF. This is a character inspired by this look.

WC:1.7k

Warnings: Unprotected P in V sex. Anal play. Degradation kink. Cream pie.

Summary: The best sex you've ever had has you lowering your morals.

Wanton Moans and Feral Groans

The click of your expensive-even-for-your-salary stilettos echoed off the concrete and around the converted space. The dust kicked up with each step brought the taste of old motor oil to the tip of your tongue.

It was carried by the slight breeze running through the place. It was cold for this time of year. It easily edged up your skirt with it being so tight that you could barely walk without it inching further and further up your thighs. The breeze licked at the slick already on your lips, cooling it and causing you to shiver. It was obscene. How wet you were for him already. He hadn't even acknowledged you yet. His attention was on his phone. Thick thumbs that knew you intimately tapped at the screen. You should be offended by his lack of acknowledgement. Then again, wasn't that part of it all? Sure, he was beyond gorgeous, the kind of man some people would sell their soul for. But wasn't the way he treated you the icing on the cake? Didn't it give you a thrill to drive down to the sketchy part of town, abandoned storefronts passing your window as you got closer. The odd person lingering in the shadows, the only witness to your actions.

Stood waiting a few feet away from him your body hummed with anticipation. After far too long, he set his phone down. His dark eyes found you with a smirk on his full lips. They gave an appraising glance over you before he spoke.

“Well, well. Look who came back. I thought we were done here?” His hips lifted temptingly as he moved his body even further down the worn couch he'd been reclining on.

“I…” you began but had nothing.

I thought I was done. Part of me wanted to be. Part of me is sick about how I let you treat me. The rest of me craves it. The rest of me wants to be the person you treat me as, a worthless whore.

“It's okay, Sweetness. I get it. You think you're too good for me. How's that working out, huh? Driving out here at midnight in your tight little skirt with your dripping cunt on display? If your fancy lawyer friends could see you now.” He chuckled lowly laying his head back and closing his eyes.

For a moment, you thought he was done with you. The ache in your core throbbed harder.

To your relief he picked his head up and turned to you. “Well, what are you waiting for? You came for some dick, right? Come and get it.”

The heels you walked in every day suddenly became a chore as your legs shook. You face men worse than him in court every day yet he had the power to make you tremble.

Reaching him you paused, unsure what he wanted, until two large hands gripped your waist firmly pulling you into his lap.

“Face that way.” His perfectly chiselled chin jutted towards his feet. “I'm a forgiving guy but you did disrespect me. If you're coming on my dick tonight you have to earn it.”

A cold shock dripped down your spine. You knew what he meant by ‘earn it’. He'd made you do it before. The memory had you soaking his jeans even further. His hands were warm as he positioned you. They slid your skirt up around your waist. Ghosting over your ass, they rested on your lower back urging you to bend as his knees came up for you to rest on. The touch of his hands was so distracted you didn't take in the fact that his cock was urgently pressing into your swollen folds. You'd already made yourself come tonight not that it made a damn bit of difference to your craving for him.

While he got himself ready, he pressed his clothed cock into with a grunt before laughing at your whimper. “Oh. Someone needs it bad. Don't worry, I'll treat you right. Eventually. For now you can drag that hungry pussy over my cock until you come.”

When you didn't instantly begin he spanked you, hard. If he was rough with you, he was really rough. There were no half measures with him. If he decided he was going to fuck you, then you were throughly fucked.

A shaking sigh left your lungs as the first couple of passes of your hips began to build what you came here for. The relief was quietly blissful, until he began to make you ‘earn it’.

“Fuck that's it. I can feel how wet that cunt is through my jeans. Fucking sopping for me and I ain't even put it in yet. Look how desperate she is for my cock.” With a shove, he pushed you forward, your hips lifting so he could get a good view of your pussy with his cellphone. “Pretty as a picture and tight as fuck too. Speaking of tight. Go on, Honey, get back to it.”

As you used his cock and the fly of his jeans to push yourself further his free hand drew two fingers through your slick. Your walls clenched at the possibilities. The thick digits carried on their path to your asshole.

“I bet this is real tight too. She hasn't let me take it yet but I'm sure she will. Won't you, my little whore?” One finger breaching your tight ring as he spoke was all it took to bring on your orgasm.

He barked out a laugh as you shook in his lap. “Wow. See what a needy slut she is? I barely touched her and she's creaming all of my lap.”

A chime signalled the end of his video. His cellphone hit the table with a dull thump while you tried to compose yourself.

Sitting up, he wrapped his arms around you from behind. The cool leather of his jacket was welcome on your fevered skin.

“Poor, Baby. Look at you. So desperate for my cock you'll come just from being near it. Do you need to come again?” A meek nod of your head had him smiling into the bare skin of your neck. “I knew you would. Strip for me.”

Faster than you'd care to admit, what little you were wearing was on the floor. His eyes sparked with mirth as he watched you. Slowly as if to drag this out further, he undid his jeans, pushing them down to his mid thighs. With no underwear in sight his cock sprang free. Large and weeping, nestled in a trimmed dusting of light brown curls. The sight of it made your mouth water. It had to to accommodate him when he roughly fucked your throat.

“Well, get on then.” He held the base as if he was pulling out a chair for you.

“What about…?” You started.

“No condoms tonight. I want you bare. You're on the pill right?” He lazily stroked his cock.

“Yes. That's not what I'm worried about.” Your tone was incredulous.

“Table.” Was all he huffed. A couple of letters lay on the table. One for another court date. The other was a clean bill of sexual health. “Satisfied? Now, climb on. We both know you want to. You ain't getting better cock anywhere else. That's why you risk your career bouncing on mine.”

The last sentence was like a bucket of cold water thrown on the heat of your lust. “I..I have to go..”

“Shit.” He cursed himself as he jumped up to stop you. “Baby, come on. No one will find out.” Then he did something he'd never done before. He began to kiss your neck, his hands pulled you close into his broad frame. He held you almost tenderly. His full lips worked over your pulse point. Being treated like a whore by a criminal was one thing, being treated like something desirable was something else. It wore you down as his fingers stroked between your legs and his cock pressed against your hip. Pre come smeared across your naked flesh as he mumble a ‘please’ against your neck. The hand that wasn't giving your clit attention wrapped your hand around his cock. He gave a few guiding strokes before his hand left to cup your tits. This was the most intimate you had even been with him. You breaths mingling as you worked each other closer to the point of release.

“Wait.” You managed to croak out, your throat dry from your moans. Walking him back, you pushed him down onto the couch before taking your long awaited seat.

The two of you cried out as your heat finally took every throbbing inch on him. Being his whore was one thing. A twisted game to satisfy an itch. Lowering yourself to being his equal was another. The sound of skin on skin echoed off the bare walls while your bare walls felt every ridge and vein of him. Every bounce of your hips was met with a thrust from him. Your fingers clawed at the deep V of his shirt and the hot, bare skin below. His dug into the flesh of your hips. There were no words exchanged, only wanton moans and feral groans.

Tilting your head to the heavens as in prayer you chanted. “Yes, yes, yes!” Just as your orgasm hit. The tension seized your whole body. You pussy gripped his length for a moment before pulsing around it causing him to pulse inside you with each pump of his release.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” His breathing was erratic as he filled you.

It took a good minute for either of you to even think about moving. When you did the two of you watched as his cum dripped everywhere watered down by your own release. His so soft but no less impressive cock slipped from you with a satisfying sound.

“Fuck.” His forehead came to rest on your shoulder.

The thought of caressing his soft curls flitted through your mind. A sign that it was time for you to dress. Once enough clothing was in place for you to qualify as dressed, you turned to leave.

“You're still my little whore.” A sliver of doubt crept into his voice.

“No.” You simply stated while fishing your cell phone out of your purse. You didn't miss the cocky grin on his face slip. “I think you might be mine now.”

Taking a picture of the mess you'd made on his cock, you left.

Turning to his dog who had been napping uninterested through the entire encounter he told her. “I always was.”

@kirsteng42 @prolix-yuy @thegreenkid2 @hquinzelle @fangirl-316 @gracie7209 @jedifarmerr @doommommy @scorpio-marionette @sturkillerbase @harriedandharassed @aynsleywalker @mswarriorbabe80 @rise-my-angel @adancedivasmom @kinda-nobody @movievillainess721 @munsonownsmyass @mandoloriancookie @faceache111 @elegantduckturtle @manazo @simpingcowboy @pedrit0-pascalit0 @yourcoolauntie @pedrostories @geekrenaissance @its-nebuleuse @sherala007 @vabeachazn

Adding some people who might appreciate this: @missredherring @morallyinept @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @maggiemayhemnj

[mswarriorbabe80]

Better Luck Next Time

Pairing: dbf!Joel x f!reader

Summary: this was from a request I got recently asking for dbf Joel and premature ejaculation and I hope you like it!

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, porn w little plot, age gap but not specified, established secret relationship, handjob, fingering, nipple play, pet names (little one, good girl, baby doll, etc) Joel is over the fucking moon for you, premature ejaculation, embarrassment of shooting too early, mentions of masturbation and phone sex. LET ME KNOW IF I MISSED ANYTHING. || word count: 1.6k || photos are for aesthetics, reader is not described physically || no use of yn ||

“I missed you so much baby, god damn you’re even more beautiful than the day you left.” His words smashed against your lips as he grabbed at your waist to pull you on top of his lap, your legs slipping to either side of his thighs. You were only gone for two weeks on vacation to your friends but to Joel it seemed like two months. 

“I missed you more, Joel. I really missed you.” You purr as your hands run down his sides and begin to palm his hardening bulge through the faded pair of jeans that was shielding you from what you wanted. The entire time you were away, he would send lewd photos of him playing with himself, building up this big talk about how he couldn’t wait to get his hands on you, he’d take you down all night, the stuff you heard almost every night for those two weeks when he’d call you in the middle of his alone time.

“Can’t believe the way you jumped on me in front of your dad, sweetheart. Tryna get me killed, huh? You miss me that much?” Joel's teeth sink into the skin on your neck and you chuckle slightly as you try to yank his zipper down and the button free. “I’m so hard for you baby, god damn it hurts so good.” You somehow manage to fish out his throbbing cock that was spilling pre-cum from the slightly swollen and red tip. His head tilts back against the couch as soon as you wrap your palm around him, tugging slightly and circling over the head before going back to the base of his shaft. “Of course I missed you, you made it hard considering you’d call every night and let me hear you touch yourself thinking about me.” The teasing tone in your voice had his heart racing and you kissed his exposed neck slowly, matching the rhythm of your hand on his cock.

Joel hisses as he grips your ass roughly, “f-fuck baby, keep that up and I’ll do anything for you, such a good girl.” The way his moans poured from his mouth  made you impatient for that filling feeling of every inch of him inside of you, telling you how pretty you look as he splits you open.

His grunts grow louder and his arms extend over the back of the couch while the pair of dark brown heavy eyes stare at your hand that had all the power over him. Your breathing started to pick up and almost match Joel’s while your cunt was thumping inside your saturated panties just at the way you could see how needy he was for you. You subconsciously started to ride his thigh to give yourself a little release and he took note of it, grabbing the plush skin on your hip and squeezing for you to go faster. 

“That’s it, baby doll -ohh shitt- you’re so beautiful, sweetheart. You do such a better job at this than me.” He huffed and adjusted on the couch cushion, scooting down just a bit for you to ride him better. Joel liked the feeling of your panties on his jeans, painting the fabric with your arousal. 

The pair of you were panting harder with every motion of your wrist and hips, Joel’s name was drenched in lust as you moaned out for him. His chest rises and falls quicker the more you rubbed the underside of the head and he grabs your wrist, “Baby, wait hang on don’t-ahh-” without warning Joel’s cum was pooling in your fist and down your knuckles like a volcano. 

Joel grunts through gritted teeth with every pump from the tip of his cock as he empties himself in your hand. You sit still while he finishes and he reaches over to the tissue box on the coffee table and hands you a wad, helping clean up the mess that dripped down onto his groin. 

The room falls quiet as Joel sets the tissues to the side and tucks his soft cock back into his underwear. His deep sigh caused you to look at his face and you could tell by the redness of his face how embarrassed he was. 

“I um..I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to..” Joel stopped himself as he clenched his jaw and met your gaze, his hand still on your hip and squeezed softly. This was new territory for the both of you. You had never been in a situation like this before but it was nothing to be ashamed about. “Baby it’s fine, really. It happens, you were just too excited to see me.” You try to lighten the mood but he wasn’t responding the way you had hoped. Reaching out and cupping his face gently, your thumb brushes over his cheek to reassure him you’re okay.

“Hey, cmon now. Don’t be embarrassed please..it was actually kinda fun seeing you so worked up over me and trying your best not to come.” Your words sandwiched between your lips and his cheek as you kissed softly, trailing to his lips until he finally pecked you back. 

“It’s just so embarrassing, I can't keep up with a youngin’ like you all the time.” Joel tries to turn away from you but the grip you have on his face restricts him from doing so. 

“Joel I don’t care, I just like taking care of you. The rest doesn’t mean shit to me.” More kisses are plastered on his lips and he wraps his arms around your waist to pull you flush against his chest. 

“I’m sorry, baby.” He pleads as he trails his soft kisses down your jaw to your neck and chest, kissing the tops of your breasts. What started out as loving exchanges of affection turned quickly into lustful nips at your skin with faint groans every moment his lips touched you. Before you could react, Joel was yanking down your shirt and bra, exposing your beautiful breasts he looked at like a starving man. 

Joel’s warm tongue licked a stripe up your hardened nipple and pinched the other one firmly as he closed his eyes and began to suck and bite, tugging with his teeth to get your attention. Yanking out moans from you was so easy for him, he didn’t have to do much. Hell, he could yawn and stretch and his shirt could ride up just a little on his stomach and you could moan at the sight of it. “You’re so good to me little one, what’d I do to deserve you? Should I make you come since you’re so good to me?” 

His free hand unwraps from your waist and travels up your skirt to your aching cunt and Joel’s thick fingers start to taunt your clit from outside your panties. “Yes, Joel, please I need you so bad, don’t you feel it? You feel how turned on I am watching you come too fast and getting bashful about it?” You teased and with that he shoves your panties to the side, fingers instantly finding your clit and rubbing tight little circles over it. He growls against your breasts as he sucks on the other one, your hand cupping the side to help it in his mouth more. “Yes yes yes, that’s it, just like that, please Joel.” 

You can feel the grin grow on his face as he plunges his fingers deep inside your entrance, the squelching making you blush while he starts to pump in and out of you, taking his saturated fingers to your clit to rub a few circles before going back inside you. “Oh, that’s my good girl, you like it when I touch you here?.” He rhetorically asks to be an ass, sucking on your nipple harder as he curls his fingers to get inside you. 

“Y-yes, baby -oohh fuckk- please don’t stop-p” You sputter out, your body trembling the more he toyed with you. The thought of your dad coming back from getting food any moment was running through your head and only made this hotter. What would he say if he found you like this on Joel’s lap, his hand in your panties and his lips attached to your tits for dear life? His best friend taking his daughter like this? 

Hips bucking with every motion of his hand, you could tell you were close and ready to let go all over him. “Joel-I’m gonna c-come- don’t stop don’t stop-ooo!” With a squeal and your legs trying to close shut, your pussy clenches around his fingers as you dissolve into pleasure while Joel’s tongue licks over both nipples, fingers just barely thrusting inside. The raging lust coursed through your veins and you kissed him passionately, still grinding on his fingers until you couldn’t move anymore. Joel pulls away and leans back against the couch, grabbing the back of your neck to pull you into him and take a second to breathe. 

“Welcome home, baby doll.” He whispers with a chuckle and rubs your back.

The deadbolt on the front door in the other room brings you right back to Earth and you fly off Joel, shoving your tits back into your bra and adjusting your panties under the skirt that was riding up your waist. Joel hurries and grabs the tissues and walks them to the bathroom garbage, staging it to look like he just finished in there. 

“Who’s hungry?” Your dad asks, walking into the room with a brown sack of warm take out. 

Joel stood behind him and you two exchanged looks, big grins plastered on your instead answering your father.

[mswarriorbabe80]

Mind your business, and don't be a dick.

It's such a tiny, simple, thing and it's too bad that so many people have decided to make another personal health choice that is none of their business, that doesn't affect them at all, just another part of their culture war.

Someone asked me why Anne and I wear masks to hockey games, and because they weren’t a dick about it, I answered them. I’m pasting it here, so I have something to refer to going forward. Covid is very much still A Thing, and so is the flu, the common cold, and other respiratory illnesses. I started masking during the pandemic, because I didn’t want to get sick and die. I have kept masking when…

[mswarriorbabe80]

In case anybody was wondering, probably not but just in case, I'm still here! I'm still posting about Randomness, and still very much a part of the PP fandom! Just haven't been on this past month because of stupid MS. it's a bitch of a disease.

[mswarriorbabe80]

Terra Incognita

pairing: Javier Peña/f!Virgin Reader (no physical descriptions)

summary: Being the secretary for the attaché, Javier Peña, isn’t too bad. In the months you’ve worked together, he’s warmed up to you. Having flirty conversations daily and being the only recipient of his rare smiles you know all means nothing since he’s your boss; your unattainable, unbelievably attractive boss you have a raging crush on. Then he decides to do the unthinkable and asks you out for a drink, and not an innocent, HR-approved drink between colleagues, but a forbidden, going on a date drink—that goes so well you ask him to take your virginity and make you orgasm for the first time. 

He happily obliges. 

rating: E (18+!! No y/n, can be read as age gap (reader’s age is unspecified, but she’s at least 23), Soft Javier Peña, Inexperienced Reader, boss/employee relationship (very consensual, he puts you in control), explicit smut, loss of virginity, first time, first orgasm (Javier teaches you how to touch yourself), unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), creampie (it’s me), oral sex (f receiving), vaginal fingering, masturbation (f), mirror sex, dirty talk, praise kink, spit mention, (1) spank, Javier being a consent king, sneaking around, insecurity, self-esteem issues, Javier making you feel beautiful, feelings, Javier being cute and flirty, talks of the future, Javier hating you think he’s too hot for you)

word count: 12.8k+

a/n: I got an ask about doing reader’s first time with Javier months ago, and this week, I finally had a chance to write it. There’s plot, there’s a lot of porn, this took on a life of its own, and I’m sorry about how long it took me to get around to it. I hope you enjoy! Takes place during Season 3 of Narcos, a couple of months before they get Gilberto. Thank you so much to @senorabond for betaing super last minute!

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to know what you thought!

Masterlist

“Peña,” he answers on the second ring. 

Sitting at your desk outside Javier Peña’s office, you have the corded phone receiver held to your ear and documents in front of you that you’re preparing for his signatures. 

“I have someone from the ambassador’s office on the other line,” you tell him. “I’m going to assume you’re in a meeting?”

He isn’t. 

The smile is clear in his voice when he replies, “Yeah, I’m definitely in a meeting.”

“I’ll send them to your voicemail.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s no problem, sir.”

“Just Javi.”

“It’s no problem, Just Javi.”

An amused breath leaves him. “Smartass.”

“I’m just calling you what you requested. I need to take care of this call. Bye, Just Javi.”

“Javi. Bye, Florecita (little flower).”

The nickname makes you smile, knowing he calls you it because there’s always a bouquet on your desk—today, it’s daisies. 

Pressing a couple of buttons has you back on the line with the other person, apologizing that your boss is indisposed in a meeting and transferring them to his voicemail. Immediately, you return to the task you were working on before being interrupted. 

Being the secretary for the attaché isn’t too bad. 

For months now, you’ve worked with Javier, and at first, he didn’t even know what to do with you until requests started coming in for him to attend meetings, be on conference calls, and turn in paperwork by deadlines. That's when he tagged you in to be the keeper of his schedule. He was polite and professional at the beginning of your partnership, and a little sulky, which you figured had to do with the job. Over time, he still sulked, but he’s warmed up to you, especially with how you run interference with his calls that come through and keep him from talking to people who annoy him to the best of your ability. Occasionally, he has to speak to them; rarely, however, because you have no issue lying through your teeth for him—he gets grumpy after those calls so it’s better for him to hardly take them. 

He’s friendlier now than when you first met, and the only time you’ve seen him crack a smile is when he’s talking to you. The first and every time after he has made you feel like you’re melting—yes, you have a crush on your boss. 

Have you seen him? 

Those suits? The hair? The mustache? His shoulder-to-waist ratio? His ass? He’s gorgeous, and you don’t have a chance in hell, so you bask in the smiles he gifts only to you, and the fun, flirty conversations that aren’t leading to anything since he’s your boss, and way out of your league. 

Glancing at the watch on your wrist informs you it’s time for lunch—it’s crazy how quickly time flies when you’re working sometimes. The small stack of papers on your desk gets stapled and set off to the side and out of the way. When you pull open your bottom desk drawer, your purse is in there, along with two small paper lunch sacks. Pulling the latter out, one is set in the space the papers once occupied, and the other you carry as you roll your chair back and get up. It’s only a handful of steps to the closed door, rapping your knuckles against it twice. 

“Come in,” says a voice from inside. 

Opening the door, you make your way in, closing it behind you. Your boss is sitting at his desk sans his navy blue suit jacket, a cigarette cushioned between his plush lips, wisps of smoke rising from it as he reads over documents. 

That’s another thing about Javier—you’re pretty sure he lives on coffee and cigarettes, not buying it anytime he says he’s quitting them. 

To be annoying, you put the paper bag directly over what he’s reading. His head pops up to look at you with his big, brown puppy dog eyes, his fingers pulling the lit nicotine from his mouth and depositing it into the glass ashtray he keeps within reach.  

“I’ve told you, you don’t have to bring me lunch,” his words come out in a deep rasp. 

Crossing your arms over your chest, you can’t help but snort, noticing his gaze dropping to your bosom for a split second before it’s back on yours. 

“That’s a lie,” you reply, and he frowns. “You always forget to eat because you’re too busy working. So, the solution is for me to bring you food. That way, you can eat and keep doing all your important stuff.” 

His eyes dart away as he sighs. “Can I pay you for the lunches?” he asks. “You probably didn’t have making lunch for your helpless boss in your food budget.” 

You smile. “I didn’t, but I’m happy to make them for you. There’s no need for you to pay me for the food.” 

His eyes meet yours. “There’s gotta be some way for me to thank you.” He sits back in his chair, letting you take in the ample breadth of his shoulders in his white dress shirt, his red patterned tie running down the center of his chest. “How about I take you out for a drink tonight?” 

That causes your brain to record scratch. 

“A drink… with me?” you answer slowly. 

There’s a confused expression on his face. “Yeah? I would’ve asked you sooner, but I’m always fucking working, and tonight I’m free—this entire weekend, I am, as long as I’m not called in.” 

He would’ve asked you sooner?

“I know you are…” You are the keeper of his schedule. “It’s just a thank you drink…?” 

His hand goes to his mouth, your eyes stuck on the journey his thumb makes, swiping over his bottom lip and wondering for the thousandth time what it’d be like to kiss him. 

“Can be…” he answers, his eyes darkening when you look at them. “Or, it can be more if that’s what you want.” 

He wants to go on a date with you? 

“I like the sound of more,” you quietly reply. 

“I like the sound of more, too.” And you’re gifted with one of his smiles, this one crooked and charming. 

It makes you swallow, your skin feeling heated. “I just want to make sure I’m reading this right,” you start, feeling discombobulated. “You’re asking me out on a date, right? Me?” You point at yourself, so there’s no mistaking who you mean. 

That confused look is back on his face as he leans forward. “Yes, I am asking you—” He points at you. “—to go out with me.” He points at himself. “Why are you so surprised? I like you.” 

Your eyes widen. 

“You like me?” 

“Yes? Querida (Darling), why are you having trouble believing I’m interested in you?” 

This is so embarrassing, you have to cover your face in your hands, your voice muffled when you answer, “Because you’re extremely attractive, and I’m me, and I’ve seen the women you normally go for.” Everybody knew about his one-night stand with the woman who worked here. “I’m nowhere near as beautiful as them.” 

The sound of his chair wheels rolling met your ears, and seconds later, you jolt when big, warm hands are grabbing yours and pulling them away. A concerned look you’ve never seen is on his face, his thumbs rubbing over the backs of your hands. 

“Don’t say that,” he says in a soothing tone. “Wanna know something?” 

“Sure.” 

“I find you more attractive.” You huff in disbelief. “I’m serious,” he continues. “Not only do you look beautiful—” His hand moves to cup your cheek. “—what’s inside you is beautiful, too, with how thoughtful and caring you are. You’re also funny and smart. I’ve been dying to take you out.” The sincerity in his gaze takes your breath away. 

Has hell frozen over? Are pigs flying? How in the hell is this perfect specimen of a man interested in you? He’s adamant he is, and you know he’s telling the truth, which seems insane, yet it’s exhilarating. Your love life is non-existent; you’ve never even been in a relationship, not for lack of trying; it’s just no one’s ever been interested. Now, someone is, and he’s so hot. There’s just one big glaring problem…

“You’re my boss…” you point out. “We’re not allowed to have any kind of romantic relationship due to the fact there is a major power imbalance here.” 

“The person who has all the power is you. You decide how far things go and if things should end. I’d never fire you or hurt your career in any way if you wanted nothing to do with me—I just wanna take you out for a drink, and from there, it’s all you.” 

His last sentence causes a nervous flutter in your tummy. 

“Okay, I’d like to get a drink with you. What’s your plan for us not being seen together?” 

He smiles, taking a step closer so your bodies are practically touching, smelling his spicy cologne that makes your mouth go dry. “I’ll take you to this little hole-in-a-wall place I know. Can I pick you up at seven?” 

You frown. “You know I live in a building full of people who work here—they’ll see you.” He’s occasionally driven you to and from work when the usual person you carpooled with was sick. 

“I won’t go to your door. I can park in the back of the lot and call you to come out to me.” 

“Have you put a lot of thought into this?” you ask. 

His cheeks pink up while he looks away. “Yeah…” 

The answer makes your heart pound in your chest, wondering what all he’s imagined, and something comes to mind, your curiosity getting the better of you. 

“What, um, is your plan if after the drink we want to go somewhere quieter and more… secluded?” 

His eyes are back on yours, his voice going a little deeper. “I’d take you back to my place.” 

The thought of that both excites you and makes you nervous.

“People won’t see me?” 

“No one from here—I had them put me up somewhere away from everyone else.” 

“Oh.”

“Can I kiss you?” 

“Yes,” you breathe. 

As soon as you say the word, his lips descend on yours, his hand cradling your head, his other arm wrapping around your back to pull you into him. This is a scenario you’ve daydreamed about countlessly; and the real thing? Even better than you imagined—his lips are soft and plush, the kiss tender, working his mouth against yours in a way that has something stirring low in your belly. He tastes like cigarettes and black coffee, which shouldn’t be as appealing as it is, your body feeling warm, the skin hot where he touches, your fingers digging into his shoulders. 

The moment comes when your lungs ache for breath, and he kisses you one last time, ending it with a playful nip to your bottom lip, his own lifted in another smile. You’re breathing heavily, seeing his lips had reddened, his eyes heavy–lidded. 

“Was it everything you hoped for?” he asks. 

It’s hard to think, not knowing what he’s talking about. 

“Huh?” you answer. 

He’s smiling cheekily now. 

“All the times you thought about kissing me—actually doing it, was it how you imagined?” 

The way your stomach drops, feeling your face heat. 

“Oh my god,” you gasp. “Was I that obvious?”

“Yeah. You don’t know how many fucking times I thought about giving you what you wanted.” 

“I am so embarrassed.” You squeeze your eyes shut. 

“Don’t be. I love it, and it gave me hope you’d agree to go out with me.” 

Looking away, you tell him, “It was better…” 

He grins, his head moving to kiss the side of your mouth, turning so your lips can meet. It’s quick, him whispering, “Yeah?” When he breaks away, nudging his nose against yours. 

This sweetness has you feeling all gooey. 

“Yes.” 

“Eat lunch with me.” 

“Is that an order from my boss or Javi?” 

He sighs, pressing his forehead to yours. “It should’ve been a question from me, Javi—sorry.” 

You smile, pecking him on the lips. “In that case, my answer is yes. I’ll need to go grab my food.” 

Both of his arms hug around your middle, pressing his face into your neck. “I don’t wanna let you go yet.” 

Hugging him back, you reply, “Okay,” kissing his hair. 

Him being all touchy-feely and sweet is very unexpected but a welcome surprise. 

The blinds are all closed on the glass walls that enclose a good portion of his office, and there’s no worry of anyone stumbling upon the two of you in this embrace since they’d knock first. With how his body relaxes into yours and the way he lets out a happy sigh, it seems this hug is something he’s needed, and you’re more than willing to give him the comfort. 

“If you ever need a hug, just let me know,” you whisper. 

His arms loosen, raising his head to look at you. 

“Thanks. What, uh, if I need a kiss?” 

You giggle. “Same. Just let me know.” 

“I think I need one before you go.” 

“I will be gone for less than thirty seconds.” 

“It’s thirty seconds too long.” 

“You’re ridiculous,” you reply in exasperation. “Kiss me, you goober.” 

And he does, slotting his mouth against yours, kissing you. 

It might’ve lasted seconds or a minute, you’re not sure, with how lost you get in his lips on yours and his body pressed so close. When he finally pulls away, you chase his mouth, and he chuckles, making you frown. 

“Go get your lunch, Florecita,” he rasps. “We’ll eat, finish working, and tonight, I’ll kiss you as much as you want.” 

Opening your eyes, they’re locked on his, smiling as you reply, “I like that plan.” 

He has the same expression, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “I do, too.” With that, he gives your hips one last squeeze and walks to sit behind his desk again, and you make the quick trip to get your lunch and bring it back, shutting the door behind you. 

Javier tries to get you to pull one of the chairs in front of his desk around to sit beside him; however, you give him a firm no in case someone comes by. Instead, you end up across from him, talking between bites of your sandwiches and chips. 

There are things you already know about him, such as he’s from Texas, only his father is alive, and, of course, how he helped take down Pablo Escobar. During this lunch, you learn his mother passed away five years ago; he has no siblings but a large extended family, he dearly misses his mother’s tamales, he’s still good friends with Steve Murphy, and he grew up on a cattle ranch where his father still lives. 

You finish your food, and you put all the garbage into the paper bag to throw out. 

“What are your plans for the weekend?” you ask him. “I can’t remember the last time you had one off.” 

“I haven’t.” He crumples up his trash in his own bag. “And I’m not sure yet what my plans are,” he answers with a wink, your mouth falling open. 

Clearing your throat, you quickly get up, avoiding eye contact with how hot your face feels. 

“What about you?” he asks. 

“Um, I’m not sure, either.” The original plan was to deep clean your apartment, but now, with your date tonight and Javi having the whole weekend off, things might be changing. 

“Maybe we can figure out something together tonight.” 

“Maybe,” you reply, walking backward with your garbage in your hand, still avoiding looking at him. “I have to get back to work, Mr. Peña, sir—”

“Just Javi,” he interrupts. 

“I have to get back to work, Just Javi, and pretend like I don’t know what it’s like to kiss you or think about how I’m going out with you tonight, so if you can do me a favor and not be sexy for the next—” You check your wristwatch. “—three hours and fifty-eight minutes, I’d greatly appreciate it.” 

“I’ll try…?”

Your back bumps against the door. 

“Great!” Taking a deep breath, you chance a glance at him to see he’s smiling. “Me?” you whisper in disbelief, reaching behind you to grab the door handle. “He likes me?” 

Turning, you open the door, Javier saying loud enough for you to hear, “Yes, you,” and butterflies flutter rapidly around in your belly. 

Thankfully, the rest of the day goes by quickly, the two of you staying very professional, aside from the one kiss he stole when you needed him to sign something. 

When it was time to leave, you told him goodbye from the doorway, and he made you wait so he could walk you to the car park, where you went to catch a ride with your friend, and he walked to his Jeep. 

With how nervous you were, dinner was light and quick once you got home, followed by taking your time to get all gussied up for your date—showering, getting out your cutest black dress, doing your hair and makeup, and spritzing on some perfume. 

Doubt creeps its way into your brain that maybe you imagined all that happened—Javi didn’t ask you out, Javi didn’t kiss you or hold you in his arms. It makes you think there isn’t actually going to be a date, and all the work you put into getting ready is for nothing. You try your best to push it down; becoming nervous because it all did happen, and you are going out with him, making your mind race with possibilities of what could happen that evening—what you hope will happen. 

By the time it’s five to seven, you’re so lost in thought you practically jump out of your skin when your home phone rings on the wall in the kitchen. Making your way there, you answer it on the third ring, picking up the receiver to your ear. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey, It’s me. I’m here.” 

“Okay, I’m heading down.” 

“Can’t wait to see you. Bye.” 

“Bye.” 

Hanging up the phone, you grab your purse, put on a jean jacket, and slip on some sensible, easy-to-walk-in heels as you leave, locking up your apartment tightly. 

It’s a Friday night, and you live in a large apartment complex, trying to avoid as many people as possible as you leave. 

Do you ensure no one is around as you walk into the parking lot, trying to keep to the shadows? Yes. 

The sun has already gone down, the headlights off on Javi’s Jeep, the vehicle dark at the back of the parking lot, save for the tiny orange glow of the cigarette he’s inhaling.

The overhead light doesn’t even come on when you open the passenger door and jump in, the dashboard and radio softly glowing. His window is partly down, and he tosses what he’d been smoking. 

He leans toward you, and you stop him with one palm, the other digging in your purse on your lap, relying on feeling around to get what you’re looking for, finally finding it. 

There’s a shining stick of gum between your fingers when you hold them up to him. 

“You’re the hottest man I’ve ever met,” you say, “and I’m really into you, but I’d prefer not to make out with someone who tastes like an ashtray.” 

He sighs, taking and unwrapping the gum. “I’m quitting,” he grumbles, putting it in his mouth and chewing, the wrapper getting rolled into a ball and tossed in the empty cup holder between you. 

“Uh-huh, sure, Javi. You’ve been saying that for months now,” you reply, patting his chest. 

Snatching your hand, he brings it to his lips, softly kissing each of your knuckles. 

“I’ll get some nicotine gum tomorrow, so you’ll kiss me.” 

That has you taken aback. 

“You’re going to stop smoking, so I’ll kiss you…?” 

“It’s one of the perks, and I know you fucking hate the habit.” That’s true. “Is my mouth minty enough? I wanna kiss you.” 

The fact you could smell the spearmint on his breath told you it was, your hands pulling his head toward you, smashing your lips against his. You can feel him smiling, his large palm cradling the back of your head, and allowing him to deepen the kiss when his tongue seeks entry into your mouth, unable to keep from moaning when it slides against your own. 

Kissing, you have some experience with, not a lot, but some, so you follow his lead, and he takes your breath away. 

When he pulls back, you feel dazed with your eyes closed, heart pounding, and chest heaving. 

“You okay?” he asks.

Blinking open your eyes, you answer breathily, “Yes. You’re just really good at that—wait, why is there gum in my mouth?” you ask, chewing it. 

When did he slip it in?

In the lowlights of the radio, you can see him smiling as he laughs, and you’re almost positive this is the first time you’ve heard such a wonderful sound, determined to hear it again. 

“You’re adorable,” you say, cranking down your window, spitting out the wad, and rolling it up again. “And I’m positive you’re going to be the death of me.” 

His hand guides your chin to make you look at him, a serious look on his face. “I’m not gonna be the death of you,” he replies.

“With how much I like you, how hot you are, and the way you kiss? I’m fucked.” 

“We’re both fucked.” 

When he finally starts driving, his hand holds yours on your thigh, confirming he’s a big physical touch person, always needing to be touching you. 

It’s quiet as he takes you out of the area you’re familiar with. For you, it’s because your stomach is aflutter with nerves, and you’re trying to figure out what’s going to happen, or really what you want to happen that night. How far do you want to take things? He said you’re the one who decides. How brave are you? 

The place you end up is unfamiliar to you, Javi parking along the curb and jumping out to come around and get your door. He’s smiling as he offers you a hand to help you out that you happily take, his eyes moving up and down your body when you stand in front of him. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he says, shutting the car door. 

It’s your turn to check him out, seeing he’s in criminally tight jeans, a maroon button-up, and a black leather jacket. 

“You’re pretty handsome yourself.” 

“Thanks. I promised you a drink.”

“Yes, you did.”

Your purse is dangling on your shoulder, Javi taking your hand as he leads you down the sidewalk, past a bakery and a little mini-mart, until you arrive at your destination. It’s a tiny neighborhood bar, the wooden sign above naming it La Sirenita.

“Is the owner a big Disney fan?” you ask before entering. 

“What?” His eyebrows scrunch together, his free hand ready to pull open the door. 

“It’s called ‘The Little Mermaid,’ like the Disney movie from a few years ago,” you explain. 

“I haven’t seen that… It’s named La Sirenita because the owner used to work on a fishing boat and swears when he fell overboard once, a mermaid saved him.” 

“That’s basically the plot of the movie…” 

His eyebrow rose. 

“Florecita, this bar has been here for twenty fucking years. He didn’t name it after some dumb kid’s cartoon.” 

“The Little Mermaid is a masterpiece of cinema, thank you very much. Now, let’s get inside.” 

As you expected, the inside has artist's renderings on the walls of mermaids, and over the bar is a fishing net. Seats line the bar top, and there are a few tables and a few booths. The place is not too terribly busy, spotting one empty two-person table in a corner. It’s not very loud, with people talking and laughing, music playing in the background at a reasonable volume. All in all, the atmosphere is lovely. 

“Do you wanna go have a seat, and I’ll grab our drinks?” he asks, nodding toward the empty table you spotted. 

“Sure,” you answer, telling him what you’d like. 

There’s no one here you recognize, which makes you breathe easily, hanging your purse on the back of your chair with your jacket, sitting down, and looking around the room. A few minutes later, Javi arrives with the drinks, not even a little surprised he got a whiskey for himself. 

He’s in the seat across from you, taking a sip while you stare into your glass. 

“I’m going to be honest with you,” you say. “This is technically my second date.” 

His hand reaches to grab yours on the table, rubbing his thumb over the back of it. 

“I don’t date either. Fuck, I’ve been in one relationship? And it was a fucking nightmare.” 

Lifting your head, you ask, “So, you’re not interested in dating or being in a relationship? It’s okay if you’re just looking for something casual without commitment.” 

You’ll take him any way you can get him. 

“Shit.” His eyes close tightly, pressing his fingers to his brow. “I already fucked up. I should’ve said, ‘I didn’t date until now,’ and I am interested in being in a relationship with someone right for me. The last person… wasn’t.” 

Hope rises in you. 

“Okay. That’s good to know.” 

His hand drops, gaze meeting yours. “Are you interested in all that? Or just wanting something casual?” 

“I’m interested in dating and a relationship. I’ve never been in one, but I think I can figure it out.” 

He smiles, his hand tightening around yours. “You can,” he replies. 

You hide your own smile by taking a drink and setting it back down after some seconds. 

“What do you want to talk about?” you ask. 

“I wanna hear your story.” 

“It’s awfully boring compared to yours.” 

“I don’t care. I wanna hear it.” 

“Fine.” 

And you give him a rundown of your family—divorced parents who remarried, and now you have a handful of younger half-siblings. Graduated from high school, went to college, and got a degree in business, and you’re in your current job because the pay and benefits are decent, and it puts you on a different continent than your family. He, of course, inquires why that’s a good thing, to which you have to explain they always need something from you—money, favors, your time, but can never help when you’re in need. Thus, you moved far away to make it so they couldn’t use you anymore. 

The glasses in front of you both become empty, so he gets each of you another drink. 

Then it’s his turn to share—he loves his family, misses his mom, and talks to his dad at least once a week; he does know how to ride a horse and does not like wearing cowboy hats but loves the boots and wears them when he’s feeling a little homesick. He doesn't bother telling you all of his history with the DEA because you pretty much know all of it. However, he does give you the details about his failed relationship with a woman named Lorraine from his hometown, who treated him like shit, and claimed to be pregnant when he tried to leave her so he’d have to marry her. Luckily, he discovered the lie the night before the wedding and left her at the altar, which he recognizes was a shitty thing to do, telling you he apologized to her the last time he was home.

Things get more lighthearted when he tells you stories about cooking with his mom growing up and her teaching him, getting flirty about his skills. 

“I make a good breakfast,” he tells you, winking as he takes a drink. 

It feels hot in the room, stifling almost, gulping while your eyes look anywhere else than at him, trying to figure out in your flustered state how to respond. 

“I bet you make a good breakfast,” is what comes out, your eyes rounding. 

“You’ll have to try it and let me know.” Your gaze latches onto his, seeing him smirking. His lips are shiny from his whiskey, and all you can think about is kissing them and tasting it on him. 

“Come here,” he says, pushing back in his chair. The second drink in your system gives you the courage to get up and walk around the table, letting him pull you down to sit across his lap with your legs dangling over the side. His arm locks around your back, his other hand stroking your cheek. 

The tip of his nose rubs against yours. 

“You wanna kiss me?” he purrs. 

“Yes,” you whisper. 

“Then do it.” 

Crushing your mouth to his, your fingers end up in his hair, surprised by the softness. The kissing heats when he presses his tongue between your lips, tasting the whiskey when it tangles with your own. Maybe it’s the alcohol, or him, or a combination of it both, but your skin feels so hot you’re wishing there were no clothes on your body. Your lungs start to ache, and his mouth moves to your jaw so you can take a deep breath. 

“What do you want?” he asks between kisses. 

“You,” you gasp. 

“You wanna get out of here?”

The throbbing you’re feeling between your legs has you answer immediately, “Yes.” 

His hand, not on your back, moves down to grab the side of your ass while he sucks on your pulse point, the sensation making you moan.

“There’s just a bit of a problem,” you force out, trying to ignore the burning arousal in your belly. 

His head rises to look you in the eyes, his mouth turned down in a frown. 

“I’ve got condoms,” he says quickly. “And I’m clean—got tested recently.” 

“That’s wonderful?” you reply, unsure how to respond. “I’m on birth control? But the problem has nothing to do with preventing babies and STDs…” 

“What’s the problem…?”

There’s no way you can look at him, so you close your eyes. 

“It’s a problem I’m really hoping you can help me with, actually, if you’re willing.” 

“What is it?” 

“I’ve, um, never had sex?” you say in a hushed voice. “And it’d be great if you could fix that…” 

There’s still chatter, laughter, and music happening around you, but in the little bubble of the two of you, it’s silent—which goes on for too long, and you open your eyes to see a gobsmacked look on Javier’s face. 

“Javi?” 

“Never?” he asks, barely above a whisper. 

“Never.” 

He must regain his bearings because he asks, “But you’ve fooled around with people, right?” 

“I’ve done some kissing and rubbing over clothes?” 

There was an almost drunken hookup in college, but you chickened out. 

“Jesus Christ,” he breathes. 

“If this is too much pressure, you can tap out. I just trust you and know you’ll do it right and take care of me.” 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, absolutely. Zero hesitation.” 

He nods his head. “Okay, I’ll do it, but if you change your mind at all, you tell me.” 

A thrill runs through you. 

“Of course.” 

“Good.” 

“One other thing…” 

“Yes?” 

“I’ve also never orgasmed…” 

That has him harshly whispering, “What?!” A look of disbelief on his face. “Don’t you touch yourself?” 

“Not really,” you reply, shrugging. “I could never really figure it out.” 

“Get up.” He pushes you to stand from his lap. “We’re leaving right now.” He gets up, pulling his wallet from his back pocket, tossing some cash onto the table while you grab your purse and jacket. His billfold is back where it belongs, and he takes your hand, pulling you out of the bar in a hurry. 

He’s driving fast once you’re both belted into his Jeep. 

“What is going on, Javier?” you ask. “Why are you being so intense about my lack of orgasms?”

His hand is gripping your thigh. 

“Because it’s not right you haven’t had one, and I need to fix that immediately.” 

“Maybe slow down, so we make it to your apartment safely?” 

He slows a tiny bit, and you count it as a win. 

His apartment building is definitely away from where you knew the other employees were housed and much nicer. He parks beneath the building in the parking garage and leads you to an elevator that requires him to enter a code in a keypad before it will work, your eyes bulging when he hits the number for the top floor. 

“I had them put me in the nicest place they could find with the budget they had for my housing,” he explains without you asking, standing beside you with his arm around your waist. “They offered me a house, but I preferred the security of this place.” There’d been a gate you had to come through to get onto the property. 

“It’s way nicer than my dingy apartment.” 

“I used to live in your apartments back in the day.”

Your eyebrow lifts. “Back in the day? It was literally, what? Maybe two or so years ago.” 

“Yeah, back in the day when I was nothing but a dumb DEA agent.” 

“Who helped take down Pablo Escobar… The Los Pepes shit was dumb, but you still made a difference.” 

“I guess.” You can hear him frowning. 

Turning your head toward him, he meets your eyes. 

“You made a difference, and now that you’re in charge, you’re gonna take out those Cali cartel fuckers, too.” 

A little smile curls up on his mouth. “Maybe.”

“You will.” 

“You have a lot of faith in me.” 

“Because you’re an amazing man who’s good at his job and actually gives a shit—you’re gonna do it, and I’ll celebrate with you when you do.” 

The elevator dings as the doors open, both of you walking out into a hallway, following as he goes to the right. 

“You’ll have a drink with me at the office?” 

“Sure, if that’s how you wanna celebrate.” 

Arriving at his door, he digs his keys out of his pocket and unlocks both locks. 

“How did you imagine we’d celebrate?” he asks, stepping inside and welcoming you in. 

The front door is closed and locked behind you while you use the wall beside it for balance to take off your heels, Javi already kicking off his boots and hanging up his jacket on a nearby coat rack. 

“I don’t know,” you answer, getting one shoe off, then the other. “Aren’t celebratory blow jobs a thing?” you ask as you straighten and face him, passing him your purse and coat, which he hangs up with his jacket. 

His eyes narrow. 

“You said you’ve never fooled around with anyone?” 

“Yeah?” Your arms cross in front of you. “I haven’t—I shouldn’t know different sex acts because I’m inexperienced? I’m a virgin, not a prude, and a very curious virgin who’s watched porn.” 

“...And you didn’t touch yourself?” 

“Watching the porn? I tried. Like I said, I couldn’t figure it out. Maybe I was thinking too hard?” 

“Maybe. I’ll get you there. Come on, baby,” he says, retaking your hand and leading you through his massive apartment that has a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows in the living and dining rooms. The place is sparse in terms of decorations and sticks to neutral colors—white, beige, and black. There’s furniture, of course, and a television in the living room, along with a bookcase with some books on it that you walk past into a hallway you assume leads to the bedroom. 

“How many bedrooms do you have?” you ask. 

“Two, but I converted the guest room into an office.” 

“You work too much.” 

“You got a better idea of what I can do with my time?” he asks over his shoulder. 

“Assuming you fuck as good as you kiss, yeah.” 

He chuckles, shaking his head as he faces forward. “You’re gonna be the fucking death of me.” 

His bedroom is spacious, featuring another wall of floor-to-ceiling windows, and also sticks to a neutral color scheme; his neatly made bed is king-size with bedside tables on either side and lamps atop them, spotting a dresser, a closet, and a door you assume leads to an en suite—the pièce de résistance that really pulls the place together are the panels of mirrors directly over the bed. 

“I like the horny—”

“They came with the apartment,” he cuts you off.

“Well, if you hate the mirror, why don’t you move the bed?” There’s enough room for him to place it somewhere else. 

Standing at the end of his massive bed, he turns to you, his dark eyes on yours. 

“Because I’d like a chance to use it.” His tongue peeks between his lips. 

“Wait, you haven’t fucked in here?” You have a hard time believing that. 

He sighs. “When would I have time?” he asks. “I’m always fucking busy or too fucking tired—I hate saying it, but I’m getting old.” 

“Javi, you’re not even forty. You’re not old.” 

“I feel old.” He pouts. 

Taking a step forward to press your body into his, you rub your hands up his chest. 

“Well, I think you’re young and sexy, and I’d love to use the mirror with you.” 

He’s crookedly smiling, his hands on your hips. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yes.” 

“Can I take off your clothes?” 

“Sure.” 

The nerves are back with a vengeance. 

Capturing your lips in a kiss, his palms move up your back, easily working down the zipper on your dress and helping to get it off your arms, where it falls, pooling around your feet. His mouth makes a wet path along your jaw while his fingers unhook your black lacy bra, where it quickly joins your dress—you’d been thankful you had one set of cute matching lingerie, Javi’s mouth moving down your neck to your chest. 

“Can I touch you?” he asks, placing a soft kiss over your thudding heart. 

“Yes,” you answer, confused about where to put your hands, so you rest them on your waist. “You can, um, touch me anywhere. I don’t mind.” 

He takes your tits into his hands, lightly massaging them while kissing the tops. When he sucks a pebbled nipple between his lips, you gasp at the shock of pleasure that shoots to your cunt—it feels so good as he sucks and nibbles at the hard bud, moving to the other to give it the same attention, your fingers ending up in his hair, unable to keep from moaning. 

You can feel your heart beating at the apex of your eyes, your panties feeling wet, and your desire thrumming in your core. 

His hot mouth continues its worship of your breasts, Javier grabbing your dominant hand and moving it down your body and under the elastic of your panties, having you slide two fingers through your wet slit. 

His lips leave you. “Feel how wet you are?” he asks, having you make another pass. 

“Yes,” you breathe, your eyes closed. 

“Does it feel good, Hermosa (beautiful)?” 

“Yes.” 

“While I suck on your gorgeous tits, I want you to rub right here.” He places two of your fingertips over your clit. “Do what feels good, but don’t be too gentle.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Here.” Slowly, he has you start circling the nub, your breath catching in your throat. “It feels good,” he says, and you agree. “But you’re being too nice. Go faster and apply more pressure—don’t be afraid to fuck it up.” With that, you do as he instructed, your fingers rubbing furiously against your bundle of nerves. 

“Oh my god,” you moan at the pleasure coiling inside you. 

“Good girl,” he purrs. “Keep doing that for me, baby.” 

His mouth goes back to your breasts, and you feel like you’re losing your mind at how amazing the combined sensations feel. An odd tightening is happening in your center, getting tighter and tighter as every second passes. 

“Something,” you gasp. “Something feels weird.” 

His lips come off you with a pop.

“That’s good, Florecita. It means you’re close. Keep going, baby. Keep rubbing that pretty little clit and make yourself come. I want you to be my good girl and come for me.” 

Whenever he calls you his ‘good girl,’ a pleasant tingle moves down your spine. 

He’s back to sucking on your nipple while he rolls the other between his fingers, and the coil in your belly is winding so tight, it feels like something is going to happen, and it does—the coil snaps, and suddenly euphoria is overtaking your body feeling it spreading out from your center to your fingers and toes, Javier having to catch you when your legs give out, hugging you against him. 

“There it is,” he murmurs in your hair. “My good fucking girl coming for me. I knew you’d do it. Fuck, you’re amazing.” 

It takes you a minute to think a coherent thought and another to remember how to speak. 

“I know this is only our first date,” your words are coming out slurred, “but I don’t wanna let you go, like ever. I really like you, and it’s not because you helped me come.” 

“I don’t wanna let you go, either.” He kisses your head, hugging you tighter. “You wanna see where this will go?” 

“You mean I can be your secret girlfriend?” 

He snorts. “I’ll take you any fucking way I can get you—if I have to, I can switch you out with someone else’s secretary, and then it won’t be an issue.” 

“You’d hate that.” 

“I’d fucking hate that.” 

“Let’s date in secret—that sounds fun. Having rendezvous’, making out in storage rooms, fucking in your office—”

“Fucking in my office?” 

“The door’s got a lock. Lunchtime quickies. Especially on days when you’re stressed.” 

“You’re perfect.” 

“I’m horny, and I’d really like to see what you can do with this.” Your palm rubs over the front of his jeans, feeling him hard and straining against the zipper. 

He groans, and the sound goes straight to your pussy. 

“Can you stand?” he asks. 

Your legs are working fine now, putting all your weight on them. 

“Yeah.” 

His arms loosen around you to meet your gaze. 

“Do you wanna undress me?” 

“Yes.” You nod. “Am I allowed to touch you?” 

“You can do any fucking thing you want to me.” 

His answer makes you smile. “How romantic.” 

It’s a little nerve-wracking having his attention on you as you work open the buttons on his shirt, his hands soothingly rubbing over your bare hips. 

“Relax,” he whispers, leaning in to kiss your cheek. His lips are at your ear as you finish unbuttoning him and untuck his button-up from his jeans. “You’re doing good.” His breath tickles your skin. “All you’re doing is getting my clothes off.”

He calms you, but now you’re trying to figure out the logistics of getting the shirt off him. 

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re ridiculously broad?”

He huffs in amusement, standing to his full height to look at your face while he smiles. 

“No one has told me that.”

Now, you’re able to push the button-up off his shoulders and pull it to fall from his arms onto the floor. 

There’s a lot of golden skin in front of you, your eyes taking in the freckles, and his soft belly with the tantalizing trail of hair below his navel leading down into his jeans. 

“I’ve always wondered what you were hiding under those suits,” you murmur, rubbing your hands along the warm skin of his shoulders, down his chest, to his stomach. “And I’m not disappointed.”

“I love how you look naked, too.”

The comment makes you duck your head, feeling heat creep up your neck. 

His fingers go under your chin, tilting your face up to see his warm expression. 

“I mean it,” he says. “You’re beautiful, and I need you to believe me.”

The truth is clear in his eyes, yet it’s hard to accept he thinks that.

“I know you’re not lying to me.” Your gaze shifts to stare over his shoulder at the bare cream-colored wall. “No one’s ever wanted me,” you say quietly. “No one ever looked at me as more than a friend. My first date? Was with this guy I was best friends with from elementary through high school. I was madly in love with him, and he saw me as nothing more than the sister he never had. We only went on the date because it was our senior prom, and neither of us had dates, so we went together. No one has ever wanted me.” 

“I want you,” he replies with conviction, so there’s no doubt. “I want you, all of you.” 

It makes you sigh. “And that honestly is insane to me.” 

“I’m not liking whatever this shit is where you think I’m too attractive for you, or whatever the fuck it is,” he says, his hands going to his belt, hearing him unbuckling it. Your eyes flick back to his, and you’re greeted with the grumpy expression you’re used to seeing at work. He pops open the button on his jeans, and you hear the teeth pull apart as he unzips them, making you gulp. 

“Are you mad at me?” you ask.

“What?” His face pinches in confusion, pushing his pants down, and you can’t help but look—he’s not wearing underwear. Bobbing between his legs is his sizable hard-on that has your eyes rounding at wondering how it would fit inside you. “No, I’m not mad at you, baby—fuck, the way you’re staring at my dick is driving me crazy.” He steps out of his jeans and does the awkward dance of getting his socks off. 

“I’m trying to figure out how you’re gonna get that thing inside me.” 

He chuckles, his bare feet planted on the floor, putting his hands on his hips. 

“I’ll tell you, and you can keep touching me if you want, but first—” He closes the distance to have your bodies practically touching, his dick pressing into your stomach, while his palms come up to hold your cheeks, your own going over his. “—creo que eres hermosa y te deseo (I think you’re beautiful and I want you). Eres muy hermosa (You’re very beautiful). Te he deseado por mucho tiempo, y no sabes lo feliz que estoy de finalmente tenerte (I’ve wanted you for a long time and you don’t know how happy I am to finally have you).” 

“¿En serio (Really)?” you ask. 

“Sí (Yes).” He nods. “Estaba chingado desde la primera vez que te vi (I was fucked from the first time I saw you.”

“No, estás mintiendo (No, you’re lying).” 

“Sabes que no lo estoy y tu también estabas igual de chingada cuando me conociste (You know I’m not and you were also just as fucked when you met me). Admítelo (Admit it).”

“Por supuesto que estaba y aparentemente fui muy obvio al respecto (Of course I was, and apparently I was very obvious about it).”

He grins, and an adorable dimple appears in his cheek. “Así era yo (So was I).” 

Your eyes narrow. “How were you obvious, Javier?” 

He gives you a look. “Remember when I had that meeting with HR, uh, a month or so ago?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Apparently, people are under the impression we’re fucking.” 

“What?” 

“Yeah, caught me off guard, too. I guess I treat you differently than everyone else and act differently.” He shrugs. “I told them we just have a close professional relationship, and I’d do nothing untoward to jeopardize it.” 

“You say with your hard dick jabbing me.” Reaching down, you wrap your fingers around him, Javi’s mouth falling open—he’s hot to the touch, hard like steel, and smooth as velvet, slowly stroking him. 

His throat works as he swallows. “Got them off my ass.” 

“Good, now tell me how you’re getting this—” You squeeze him, and he groans. “—into me.” 

“Fuck, if you’ll let me, I’ll eat your pussy and use my fingers to loosen you up. Once I think you’re ready, I’ll get some lube to make fucking you as painless as possible.” 

“You want to go down on me?” 

He’s smirking under his perfectly trimmed mustache. 

“I’d love to go down on you. I wanna see how you taste,” he answers with a wink. 

It makes arousal stir in your belly at the thought. 

“Okay. I’d like that.” 

His lips descend on yours, kissing you while his hands grab your waist to turn you both so your back is to the bed, guiding you until your legs bump into it. One moment, his mouth is on yours, and the next, it’s not when he lifts you by the thighs onto the mattress with a grunt, pushing you further onto it. 

“Head on the pillow in the middle,” he orders, tapping your hip. 

Crawling back, you do as he says, Javi climbing up after you.

He’s on his knees, the bed dipping as he moves toward you, his big hands latching around your calves to spread your legs. He picks up one, bending and turning his head to kiss your inner ankle, keeping his eyes on yours while his lips blaze a trail along your leg to your knee. It feels like electricity is under your skin where he touches, it prickling, his mustache tickling you and making you squirm a little. He brings the other leg up and makes the same journey from ankle to knee that has you biting your lip and wishing he’d touch you where you are pulsing. 

His eyes are so dark hardly any of the familiar chocolate brown remains, excitement bubbling in you when he opens your legs further apart and moves to lie between them, setting them up on his broad shoulders. You’re still wearing your lacy panties, and he shoves his beautiful nose into them, feeling as he inhales deeply and groans, his head moving side to side, nudging your clit, the sensation causing you to dig your fingers into the bedding. 

He must get to the point where he can’t wait any longer, sitting up enough to tug your underwear down and off one leg before he’s back in position. For some odd reason, you suddenly feel self-conscious, shy, and embarrassed about being completely nude, hiding your eyes behind your hands. 

Javi rubs along your sides in comfort. 

“Are you having second thoughts?” he asks gently. 

“No,” you answer. 

“Is it being naked?” 

“Yes.” 

“I love your body, and I’ve told you I think you’re beautiful. Would you be more comfortable wearing one of my shirts?”

“Um, yeah, but I want to do this naked. It’s just new...” 

“Don’t force yourself,” he replies, kissing your inner thigh. 

This tiny conversation has made you feel much better, lowering your hands. Staring at the ceiling, you can see your naked body, and Javi’s lying between your legs in the mirror. 

“I’m not.” Sitting up on your elbows, you want to look at him, a reassuring smile on your face. “Okay, I’m ready.” 

His eyes lock on yours. 

“Promise me, you’ll stop me if I do something you don’t like.” 

“I promise.” 

“Good girl,” he purrs, and you shiver. 

With two fingers, he spreads open the lips of your pussy, and looks at it with a hungry gaze, wetting his lips like he can’t wait to taste. 

“So fucking pretty,” he says. “I’m gonna make you feel good—need to get you really wet.” 

Suddenly, you watch his jaw flex, him spitting onto your clit, you gasping at the warm saliva slowly dripping down toward your entrance. A loud moan leaves you when he dives in, his tongue licking a hot stripe up through your center, feeling the vibrations of his groans. It’s different, odd, new, and you can’t get enough. He has to lock an arm over your stomach to keep you from moving as he goes to work, lapping all over your folds, tracing every bit of your sensitive skin to get all your arousal from the source. 

“You taste so good,” his words are said against your cunt. 

Heat races up your spine as he sucks your clit between his lips, flicking his tongue over it with his pleasure-addled gaze on yours—it’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before, and it’s so good, every nerve in your body alight in bliss, your belly starting to tighten. 

“Oh my god,” you gasp. “It feels so good. I think you’re gonna make me come again.” 

Your heels dig into his back, your toes curl, fisting your hands in the comforter for something to hold on to while your thighs tremble. Somehow, he just knows how to take you apart, finding a rhythm that’s turning you into a mess.  

There are a few seconds where his mouth leaves you to suck on his fingers before he goes right back to working you over; your jaw’s slack, your skin’s heated, and there’s tension in your belly that’s rapidly growing. He carefully starts pressing one thick digit inside you, your eyes snapping shut as you whimper at the new sensation, so tight he has to wiggle it in order to get all the way in—his tongue is teasingly flicking over your sensitive bundle of nerves and counteracting the slight discomfort of his finger, eliciting soft sounds from your parted lips.

It takes some time to get used to the foreign feeling, it slowly turning into pleasure and fanning the growing flames in your tummy. Sucking hard on your clit, another digit slips inside, your body jerking at the intrusion and the stretch it causes, whimpering. 

“Relax, baby,” he says. “Your pretty little pussy is taking my fingers so well.” 

His mouth is back on you, and it’s a tight fit for his fingers, but thankfully, you’re wet enough it eases in, and he languidly works them until your body relaxes, and he’s easily pumping them in and out of you. 

It’s embarrassing how he reduces you to a mewling mess with how amazing he’s making you feel. 

“You’re doing so good for me,” his muffled voice says into your pussy. 

His mouth, his fingers, your stomach is bunching up into tight knots, knowing it will not take much more to get you there—it’s insane that before today, you’d never been able to make yourself come, and here’s this man on the precipice of making you orgasm for a second time.

You’re ruined. 

He’s ruined you for anyone else. 

His fingers twist and scissor to stretch you out, making you whimper, grabbing his hand on your tummy that he squeezes back. He crooks his digits, and on the next pass, he slides against something that has your back arching and eyes blurring with stars, moaning his name loudly. 

“There it is,” he groans into your skin. “Come for me, Florecita. Give me another.” 

His arm is like a band of iron holding you down as you writhe. 

It’s all too much—what he’s doing to you, hearing the squelching of his fingers, the obscene slurping noises, and the rough sounds coming from his throat. Your body is quivering uncontrollably, and then you’re shattering, falling back onto the pillow with your arms giving out, pleasure surging through you as you come with a silent cry. You can feel your cunt spasming around his fingers, your brain a blissful haze. 

His face comes up, his voice a rough rasp, “Good girl.” His fingers are still working inside you. “You’re fucking gorgeous when you come.” 

Your eyes are closed, riding out the high, and you’re starting to believe he actually does think you’re beautiful. Was there a tiny voice in the back of your head telling you he was saying all the sweet things just to get into your pants? Yes. But you’re almost positive he genuinely has feelings for you and does find you attractive. He’s given you so many opportunities to back out and offered to let you wear one of his shirts so you’d be more comfortable—guys who only want to get laid aren’t that kind. 

Javier obviously cares about you, which has you feeling over the moon. 

You’re coming down, your body starting to relax, and your heartbeat slowing. 

“Come up here and kiss me,” you say, sounding drunk and doing grabby hands at him. 

He chuckles, his fingers slipping out of you, and he gets out from under your legs. His mouth ghosts a trail of kisses over the soft skin of your belly to your chest and along your neck, leaving goosebumps in their wake until his hips are resting between your thighs and his face is over yours, smelling your musk on him. 

“You’re gonna boss me around at work and home?” he asks, kissing your chin, the question causing your heart to skip a beat.

At work and home. 

“Maybe.” You wrap your arms around him, feeling his hard cock pressing into your belly. “Someone's gotta do it.” 

“Mmm, I like it when you boss me around.” He kisses your cheek. 

“Kiss me.” 

His lips press to your other cheek, your eyes opening to glare at him. 

“I said kiss me,” you order. 

“I am kissing you.” A peck to your jaw. 

You pinch his ass, and he chuckles. “Please kiss me on the mouth.” 

He’s smiling. “I can do that.” 

His lips claim yours in a hot, open-mouthed kiss, running your fingers through his hair and moaning at tasting yourself on him. His tongue plunders your mouth, licking the edges of your teeth and tangling with your own, Javi’s hips slowly rutting into you to ease his throbbing dick leaking on your skin. There’s an ache you’re feeling deep in your core that needs to be filled, and you know he’s the only one who can ease it. 

Coming up for air, he kisses along your jaw, nibbling on your chin. 

“Javi?” his name comes out breathy. 

Immediately, his head moves into your vision with a look of concern.  

“What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing’s wrong. I want you to fuck me.” Your lip pulls between your teeth.

“Are you sure? I can finger you some more.” 

Smiling, you stroke his cheek. “Javi, please fuck me.” 

“Okay.” He nods. “Let me grab a condom and some lube.” He starts to move, and you stop him by grabbing his arm. 

“You’re clean?” you ask. 

“Yeah.” 

“I’m on birth control—it helps with my periods. I’m obviously clean, too, and okay without the condom if you are.” 

His eyes go a little wide, and he swallows hard. “You’d let me fuck you bare?” 

“I trust you and want to know what it feels like without the barrier. Is that okay?” 

“Fuck,” he breathes. “You’re on birth control?” 

“Yes.” You nod. “The pills are in my purse if you want proof.”

“I believe you. Shit, yeah, it’s okay. I’m kicking myself in the ass right now for not asking you out sooner.” 

“Because you could’ve been having a lot of condomless sex?” you ask with an arched brow. 

He frowns. “I care about more than sex,” he answers defensively. “You know I care about more than sex, right? I’d be happy with cuddling with you in bed or on the couch and talking if you didn’t want to fuck right now—hell, I’d be happy falling asleep with you. It’s as long as you’re with me, and I wish I would’ve asked you out sooner so I could’ve had more time with you outside of work.” 

What he says makes you feel like you’re floating—you knew his feelings were genuine. 

“Oh, I know you care about more than sex,” you reply right away. “To be honest, you’re very dreamy, Javier. Like, you make me swoon. I’ve thought about investing in a fainting couch.” He snorts. “But, seriously—” Your palm presses to his jaw. “I know you care about more than sex. I mean, there was that time you had soup delivered to my apartment when I was sick, and now that I know where you live geographically, you had to drive really out of your way to carpool with me for that one week.” When the usual person you rode with was out with a bad flu. 

“That was a good week.” He smiles, turning his head to kiss your palm. “And the flowers.” 

Your eyebrows crease. “What flowers?” 

His eyes sparkle. “The bouquet on your birthday.” 

“The mystery bouquet was you?” you ask in disbelief. 

It’d been a large, beautiful bouquet of your favorite flowers whose card only wished you a happy birthday with no name or idea of who’d sent them. 

“Yeah.” 

“Javier, you ridiculously sweet man.” Sitting up, you kiss him, something tender and loving. Breaking apart, you say, “Okay, now I can see how you obviously like me. I have no idea how I missed it.” 

His lips turned down, Javi sighing. “You didn’t see it ‘cause you convinced yourself I wouldn’t be interested in you.” 

“And the whole you being my boss and figuring you wouldn’t break the rules. Now I’ve learned not to make assumptions.”

“Fuck the rules.”

“Aren’t you the rebel. What do you want to do?” 

He looks confused. “Huh?” 

“All night, you’ve been focusing on me, and I want to know what you want to do. Would you prefer cuddling naked and talking, or do you wanna have sex?” 

“Sex,” he answers immediately, making you giggle. 

“Which are you more excited about, taking my virginity or fucking me bare?” 

“Fucking without a condom. I’m happy I get to be your first so I can make sure it’s good for you, but I’m really fucking excited to be inside you with nothing on.” 

“I’m really excited to feel you inside me with nothing on, and I’m happy you’re my first, too. I wanted you to do it because I knew you’d take care of me.”

What you say makes him smile. “I am. Let me get what I need.” Quickly, he pecks you on the lips before moving off of you, the mattress jostling as he heads toward the bedside table on the left side of the bed. He’s stretching and reaching inside the drawer, returning to you with a small bottle, kneeling between your spread legs. “I’m just gonna use my fingers to make sure you’re ready,” he says, popping the cap and slicking up his digits. 

Looking in the mirror above, you watch and feel as he presses in one that goes in easily, then a second. His attention is on you, his focus alternating between his fingers buried inside your wet cunt, and the expressions your face is making as he slides in a third that stretches you more than before and really tests your limits, reveling in the burn. His other hand is rubbing your thigh. “Relax, baby,” he says, pushing them in and out and spreading them. There’s a thin layer of sweat on your skin, and it takes a second for you to do as he told you. “Do you still want me to fuck you?” he asks. 

You nod your head in answer. 

“Words, Florecita. I need to hear it.” 

“Yes, Javi. I want you.” More than anything, you leave out. 

“I think you’re ready.” He removes his hand. “If it hurts too much or you want me to stop, tell me, and I will immediately. Do you understand?” 

“Yes, Javi.” 

“Good girl.” 

The bottle being opened sounds again, seeing Javi in the mirror stroking lube onto his hard shaft, it glistening in the lights of the room. Your heart is hammering in your chest over what’s about to happen, nerves fluttering all about in your tummy so rapidly you think they might get out. 

He shuffles forward a little, rubbing the tip of his cock through the wetness between your folds. 

“Are you ready?” he asks. 

“Yes.” 

It’s sweet that he moves to have his body over yours, holding himself on one arm beside your head while the other hand notches himself at your entrance—he distracts you by pressing his soft lips against yours in a searing kiss as he slowly starts sliding into you. He has you moaning into his mouth as he fills you, your tight walls stretching around him to accommodate his girth, digging your fingernails into his shoulders. Surprisingly, there’s no pain; Instead, you’re wondering how much more of him you can take with how insanely full you already feel when he’s barely halfway in. 

When his hips finally meet yours, you can’t breathe. 

It’s almost too much for you and bordering on overwhelming. 

The kiss ends, his eyes searching yours while his words come out strained, noticing the sweat on his brow, his bangs sticking to his forehead, “Are you okay?”

Finally, you suck in air. “So big,” you gasp. 

He looks worried. “Is it too much? Do you want me to pull out?” 

“No.” You shake your head. “I just need a second.”

“Okay.” He kisses the tip of your nose, then sweetly nuzzles his face against yours. “You feel better than I imagined. I could stay like this for hours, having your tight little pussy warming my dick. You’re so fucking tight and wet, squeezing me like a goddamn vice. Once I get going, I don’t know how long I’m gonna last ‘cause this perfect cunt is gonna milk me dry.” 

Everything he’s saying has arousal thrumming in your veins, your body getting used to having him inside you to the point you need him to do something, anything at all.  

“Move,” you tell him. 

His eyes meet yours, a flush covering his cheeks. “Okay.” He hitches one of your legs high on his hip, then the other, your heels resting at the small of his back. You can feel the splay of muscle under your calves work as he does an experimental roll of his hips, the angle putting pressure on your clit, pulling a moan from your throat at the pleasure. 

“You feel so good,” his voice is breathy. “So fucking perfect.” He’s thrusting slowly, and you can tell he’s holding himself back, his face ending up in the crook of your neck. “You’re so fucking perfect and beautiful.” He groans, and the sound makes you clench, him pausing with a hiss. “Shit, don’t do that, or this will end quickly.” 

“Sorry,” you mumble.

“It’s okay.” He kisses your cheek. “Fuck, when you come, you’re probably taking me with you.” 

That has a thrill rolling through you. 

He starts back up again, going slow, languid, feeling every ridge and vein on his cock as it presses into spots of bliss you weren’t even aware existed—the beginning of an orgasm is starting to take shape in your center, your toes curled up tight and needing more to get yourself there.

“Faster,” you say.  

Gradually, he picks up speed until there’s a wet slap of skin against skin, and he’s grunting in your ear, his thrusts steady, hard, and fast, the muscles in your belly tightening. All you can do is hang onto his shoulders, your mouth open as his name spills from it in gasping moans, chanting it over and over again. He’s pushing in so deep you’re sure he’s rearranging your guts in order to make himself fit.

His dick is moving in and out of you at a punishing pace, flooding your system with pleasure, unable to think about anything else except how you’re being wrecked by the man above you. 

In the mirror on the ceiling, you can see him fucking you—the way the muscles in his back are moving just under his golden skin, the glistening layer of perspiration shining in the light, the redness on his shoulders from your nails scratching at them, and add in the sounds—the rhythmic bang of his headboard hitting the wall, the mattress springs squeaking beneath you both, the wet suck of him working his cock in and out of your pussy, his rough noises, and your softer ones; it’s all utterly obscene and rocketing you toward your release with how it turns you on. 

One time, and you’re addicted. 

You want Javi to show you more—try out different positions and teach you new things, wanting to make him feel as good as he’s making you feel right this second. This has awakened something in you that’s hungry, and you want to feed it. 

His strong arm wraps around your back, and you squeak in surprise when he rolls you both so you’re on top, keeping himself buried to the hilt in your sopping cunt. Your knees are bracketing his hips, hands on his chest for leverage, and Javi doesn’t make you think about what you need to do; his large palms grab your ass, using his strength to work you up and down his slick cock. 

Somehow, he’s deeper like this, your mouth falling open, and helping him by rising and falling on your own as you keen. 

Sweat is coating both of you, seeing drops caught in Javi’s happy trail, loving the flush that starts on his chest and moves up his neck to his cheeks, the flexed muscles in his arms defined—from the look on his face you’d think he’s in pain, his eyes glazed over in lust and shifting between watching you ride him and looking up at the mirror. It gives you the idea to lean back and hold yourself up with your hands on his thighs to give him a better view as you bounce in his lap. 

“Fuck,” he groans. “You’re fucking gorgeous taking my dick so well,” he says the words through panted breaths. Your climax is near, getting closer and closer with every deep kiss of his cock inside you. “Are you gonna come for me? Are you gonna let me feel you come around my dick? You gonna take me with you? Come on, Florecita, give it to me.” 

His calloused thumb circles your clit so perfectly that it has you falling over the edge, coming with a loud moan of his name, laying forward onto him. Your inner walls tighten around him, hearing Javi groan, euphoria exploding out from your core to spread to your limbs, your mind going blissfully blank. 

Javier firmly grips your ass, grunting as his hips thrust upwards frantically to chase his own high. 

He says something you don’t register, a sharp slap to your asscheek quickly following to get your attention. 

“What?” you ask. 

“Gonna come,” he says through his teeth. “Need you to get off.” 

That made little sense to you since you discussed how you’re on the pill. 

“Come inside me.” 

A pained noise leaves him, his rhythm stuttering. “Fuck, are you sure?” 

“Yes, come inside me, Javi.” 

His orgasm must catch him off guard with how long and strained his moan is as he comes, his hands pulling you down hard and flush against him—it surprising you how you’re able to feel his cock thicken and jerk, the hot spurts of his spend filling and coating your inner depths. 

His chest is rising and falling hard beneath you, welcoming his arms that hug you close to his body, your face tucked into his neck and content on where you’re at, not wanting to move—with how your arms and legs feel like they’re made of Jell-O, there’s a chance you couldn’t move if you wanted to.

There’s no way your first time could've been better—it was perfect. 

Minutes pass as you both share in the relaxing post-coital bliss, your hand ending up in his hair where you play with the sweat-damp strands, Javi humming appreciatively. 

“How was it?” he finally asks, his voice rough. 

“Amazing,” you reply, not sounding any better.

His head turns, kissing your forehead. “Yeah?” 

“Oh, yeah. How long before you’re able to go again…?” 

A huff of air leaves his nose. “Am I in for a long night, Florecita?” 

“You’re in for a long weekend, Javier.” 

“One time, and you’re fucking insatiable,” he chuckles. 

“The one time was life-changing, and I want you to show me all the things I’ve been missing out on.” 

“Your pussy is probably gonna be sore tomorrow, and you won’t want me touching it.” 

There’s already an ache. 

“True, so tomorrow we can go over the art of sucking your dick and hand jobs?” 

He sounds amused, “We can do that, and I’ll make you breakfast.” 

“Yes, I’ve gotta have that breakfast.” 

“And I want to take you out to dinner.” 

It takes you a second to process what he said.

“Like on a date?” 

“Yes, Florecita. I want to take you out on a proper date.” 

Moving your face over his to meet his eyes, you reply, “Where will you take me so nobody from work will see us?” 

His hands rub over your back. 

“I know some places only locals go to. I can also take you to a different city if that will make you feel better.” 

“I trust you.”

A serious look came over his face, his hand coming up to slide along your cheek. 

“I’m really fucking busy with work,” he says. 

“I’m intimately aware.” 

He nods, sighing. “I don’t know if I’ll be any good at being your boyfriend.” 

“Are you gonna cheat on me?” 

He looks offended. “What? No. If I’m with someone, I’m with them and them only.” 

“That’s good. When you’re not busy with work, will you want to spend time with me?” 

“Even when I'm working, I want to spend time with you.” 

“You’re so sweet,” you reply, pecking him on the tip of his nose. “I know you’re a busy man, Javi. The way I imagined this going down is we’d spend time together on lunches and breaks at work. I can either keep you company and rack up overtime at the office when you stay late, or we can come here for you to continue working, and I’ll do my best not to distract you.” 

There’s a curious expression on his face. “How would you distract me?” 

“I don’t know, maybe walk around your apartment in little to no clothing?” 

He wet his bottom lip. “I think I’ll start working after hours at home more…” 

His horniness makes you laugh. “You’re adorable. Then, on the rare occasions you actually have a night or day off, we’ll do stuff.” 

“It’s not gonna bother you we won’t have a traditional relationship?” 

“I’ve never been in one, so no,” you answer with a shrug. “I mean, we already spend basically all of our time together; this just changes our dynamic and means I can kiss you whenever I want.” 

He smiles. “Yes, you can.” His hand gently pulls you down for a kiss. Separating after some seconds, he says, “We need to get you cleaned up.” 

“Right.” You also needed to empty your bladder since that was important after sex. 

“There’s a huge fucking tub in my bathroom, so I’ll run us a bath, and afterward, I want you to drink some water and have a snack.”

“It’s surprising to me you have food here. I honestly thought you survived on coffee and cigarettes.” 

A sigh leaves him. “I usually remember to eat breakfast and dinner… The people who clean this place also buy my groceries, so yeah, I’ve got food here. I’ll make you something to eat.” 

“That’s very sweet of you,” you reply, kissing him briefly. “Thank you.” 

“And I’ll give you a tour—there’s not much, but I’ll show you everything.”

“I’d love that,” you say with a smile. 

“Then you can tell me what you want to do next.”

“I wanna rub your back.” With how tense he always is and the sounds he makes getting out of chairs, you know it has to bother him. 

His eyes get bigger. “Okay.”

“Work out some of that tension, and after, if you’re up for it, there’s this position I saw in a dirty movie where the woman was on her hands and knees, and the guy was just really giving it to her from behind and spanking her, and I wanna know what that’s like.” 

He’s staring blankly at you like his brain has stopped working. 

“Javi?”

It gets his attention. 

“When my job’s finished down here?” he says. 

“Yeah…?”

His hands cradle your face, his eyes staring deeply into yours. 

“I want you to come home with me, back to the States.” You didn’t expect him to say that. “I’ve had you by my side for months,” he continues, “and now that we’re together, I don’t want to go home without you.”  

“We just started dating…” 

“And I already know I’m going to marry you.” 

Masterlist

Thank you for reading! If you’d like to be tagged in my fics, please fill out the form in my bio, on my masterlist, or just let me know! 

Tagging: @theorganasolo @nicolethered @nessamc @vanemando15 @fiscinthirst @melancholyy-hill @hnt-escape @sherala007 @jadesabre83 @rainbeaubrightchild @blub-senpai @pedrohoe04 @theherothesavior @captain-creampuff @javiersjeans @zetasaturno99 @amb11 @lovedbyth3sun @siidereeus @marvelousmermaid @mrszdjarin @themarcusmoreno @ms-loverman-066 @star-wars-fan-2005 @kissing-stars @chloeinpink @notyourlovemonkey @unofficialavenger90 @fictionismyreality @sheetsof-lennon @damnyoupedro @katareyoudrilling @iamskyereads @enjoyourlattebitch @daddydindjarin @absurdthirst @kirsteng42 @littlemisspascal @athalien @thevoiceinyourheadx @elegantduckturtle @harriedandharassed @girlofchaos @mswarriorbabe80 @theewokingdead @guess-my-next-obsession @pedrostories @deadhumourist

[mswarriorbabe80]

Just Like Heaven

title: Just Like Heaven

Pairing: Joel Miller x Middle Aged Reader

Word Count: 2700

Rating: PG 13

Warnings: Language, implied spicy stuff, drug use (cannabis)

A/N: Part of the "The Over the Hill Crowd" series but can be read independently. The reader is middle aged (over 40) but still a little younger than Joel's 58 so I say "reasonable age gap". This tends towards fluffy

There's an acoustic "Just Like Heaven" by Katie Melua that you need to hear.

Joel Miller Masterlist (has the links to the other parts)

Author Masterlist

Series:

I Like My Girls A Little Bit Older

I Know Just What You're Saying

I Thought That I Could Be Someone

Just Like Heaven

Some people passed through your life like a breeze and others hit like a tornado. You hadn’t decided what manner of wind Joel Miller was, but it was persistent. Something that discovered it could tap a branch on your window for attention until you pulled back the curtain.

What had started transactionally was now becoming something different simply by the nature of survival. Times and places like this you couldn’t help but know people if everyone kept living. At first you were the person on the edge of town, alone, known for being open to fair trades and fairly kind, and he had gone seeking something Tommy heard tell you had. He had wanted to give his kid a surprise. You had a map. 

Sounded easy.

The trade involved him harvesting– problem was the stubborn potatoes refused to let him get paid up quick enough. 

He had owed you, but you weren’t holding his feet to the fire.

Sometimes teasing him, sure, but you weren’t ever going to get shitty about such a debt. Especially as Joel was the kind of people who would give you more with less. He wanted to choose to help, choose how, be left alone to do it. You understood it–you were the same way. You hated been hassled, hated being chased. Maybe you were more like a cat than a dog, affection sometimes made you hiss at folk.

Still, you wouldn’t hate the right lap to curl up on. 

You would not chase it.

No, you most certainly would not go hunting it down. If it was coming to you, it had to come on its own. Present you with the opportunity. Maybe you wouldn’t care. Maybe you wouldn’t bite. Maybe you would, you couldn’t fully gauge it yourself. You had wanted Joel but the odd intimacy of the comfort he’d given you now made you feel quite exposed. 

He was not exactly a man of many words and had probably used most of his weekly allotment on you that night. Still, sharing a story wasn’t a request for anything else and you didn’t know how he felt.

You thought you knew something he wanted, but the particular thing was not you.

It was something you caught on the times you were in town. The way he looked, acted. Adjusted his posture. You saw the twitch in Joel's eyes. The tick to catch your gaze then the sharp turn of head to act like he hadn't. Just a breeze ruffling your cheek until you turned to make sure it wasn’t a spider. 

Joel was the kind of man who knew who to measure out his breath to hold a note longer. The problem was you didn't know if he was holding out saying more please or please stop. 

         There was one thing he wanted more of. Desperately wanted more of. The thing that was always on his mind these days. He was a little bit addicted, and you were the dealer, but he was a proud man. He didn't want to admit that he was dying for a taste. 

        You wondered if mentioning it to him was just plain wrong. 

        You felt like it might be too heavy handed. 

         You would let it sit, for now. 

____________________________

Joel was cutting wood. Splitting wood? You hadn't known in the Before Times and damned if you knew now. 

He was cutting wood, and his head was moving. Bopping?

The man had rhythm in his soul and it was trying to break through the tough exterior. 

You were waiting for it. 

A sign.

Something.

You were also picking vegetables. You were there, in vague proximity, and he was chopping wood.

Then he was whistling.

Give me a sign, Miller. 

He started to whistle.

You kept picking vegetables. Then you stood from the ground and wiped your brow.

The whistle shifted, Wheeeee-whuuuuu.

A wolf whistle. 

You turned with the smile and started laughing at him, mockingbirding the call back to him, and he actually cracked a smile. You were both sweaty and it wasn’t real.

But it wasn’t fake either.

It was the vague outline of a sign.

Alright alright….You told yourself, I’ll put out a feeler and see what happens.

____________________________________________________________________________

You took a shower, organized your things. Cleaned up a bit.

Picked out an outfit, not really a huge selection to choose from but there were a few things. 

You looked in the mirror and amped yourself up.

Just a stray cat about to nudge someone’s house to see if it got fed, willing to promptly forget about people if it didn’t work out, but still….

Life was not meant to be an independent activity. 

You knocked on Joel’s door, "I got an offer for you." 

"What's that?" He was pulling on his thicker coat. 

"Come by at dark." You said and tapped the door frame before leaving. You tapped it in a way.

You tapped it to match what he had been whistling. 

Maybe he’d catch that. Maybe he wouldn’t.

Maybe he’d come or maybe he wouldn't, that was up to him. 

You hoped he would come because if he didn't you wouldn't be able to build up this nerve again and this would be a tune you never learned.

____________________________________________________________________________

He came and promptly, as soon as the moon was up and it was indisputably dark. 

He knocked in rhythm to something but you weren't sure you knew the song. Sounded familiar-ish but a knock isn't a very long thing. 

He seemed a little nervous when you answered the door and pointed him towards the music room, “Glad you showed.”

“You got something you wanna talk about?”

“Sorta.” You hedged, “I wanna show you something, the rest is up to you.”

Joel was intrigued, but he was the sort to try and play it tight, "I assume you want my help with something heavy?" 

The phrasing made you giggle, "Kind of." 

Once in the room Joel looked around, nothing seemed different from the last time he had been here. If you wanted him to do something he didn't much know what it was. He had never been a stellar electrician and he'd warned you about that from the get go. 

He looked at you and you made a flourish like a stage magician.

You produced two things: a joint and a CD. 

The CD was scribbled black with letters carefully left out in scratchy handwriting: Fuck The Man. That was it. No songs listed. 

"What's on it?" Joel asked with intense curiosity. 

"I don't know." You smiled deviously, "Well what I mean is I don't know who they are but I now know all the words."

"Bet I know them…" 

You smiled, "Well why do you think I called you here?" 

"I suppose there are worse things than being used by a woman." 

You laughed lightly, "Joel Miller I don't think you're allowed to be funny. The town all calls you broody. Gotta stick to that." 

"Sorry." 

You went to the player to load the CD and said, "It came back earlier this week, couple others. The others had the labels on them. Like record label professional ones, most have the songs listed. This one? Nothing." 

"And you don't recognize any?" 

You tried to phrase it the right way, "Like you would recognize if you'd heard a song before on the radio but nothing more. I don't know who or what or whatever." 

"And what's with the dope?" 

You giggled again, "Dope? Christ, how old are you?" 

"Hardy har. I mean was that dug up on the rounds too?" 

"Oddly no, I found this in here when I was cleaning. Dropped behind a cabinet. Lucky me." 

"Sounds like."

            The sound system was warming up and you held up the lighter. Joel looked a bit hesitant but also keyed up. Maybe this was ground he didn't walk, or maybe he just couldn't remember it anymore, "Miller this weed is older than cordyceps, you need to give a little respect. Dunno about the QZs but nobody here's growing this when they could be growing food." You offered it again, "In or out? Choose." 

"In." He nodded and you tipped it into your mouth, snapped an ancient Bic and hoped it didn't let you down, and lit it up. 

The music started. It was heavy. Joel smiled wolfishly as he took a turn, "Metallica….classic." 

Thus passed the first song. Joel getting a little more high as he mouthed every word and you were able to scribble down the song and band on a pad you kept for such things. 

You were feeling loose too, "I like the next one. Might be the same band, can't tell." 

Almost immediately as it opened Joel shook his head, "It's not the same band and some might take issue with you saying that." 

"Well the positive note is most of those folks are mushrooms now."

He closed his eyes like he was savoring it, "Iron Maiden….I think….wait for a second….. yeah Wasted Years." 

He started doing an admirable air guitar and spun with a flourish so hard he actually nearly fell on his ass, and decided maybe laying on the carpet down here was better than dancing around. You laughed so hard you sounded like a donkey, "Jesus, high as a kite." 

"I'm Joel." He smirked, "Jesus must be some other guy you bring down here." 

"Oh yeah they line up." 

His head ticked to the side a bit, "They should."

            He let you get close and he moved closer but mostly he was lip syncing the lyrics and breaking to offer facts he remembered about the band. You two burned the joint down to a roach. 

          You saw it flicker and die and regretted it for one moment. If museums meant fuck all besides a scary place to meet a clicker you'd have said that the joint should've gone behind glass to be admired: behold we lived like this. 

       Actually the phrase came up a lot. 

       A dozen pairs of shoes in a closet: we lived like this. 

       Food stores: we lived like this. 

       People bitching about The Sopranos the day after it aired because they thought it was getting to big for itself (it wasn't): we lived like this. 

      Bringing someone to your house to get high and get to know each other and maybe fool around if the stars lined up: we lived like this. 

        The song ended and paralyzed you both. 

        You had been caught looking at Joel, mostly because he'd been looking at you. For a moment you thought he eyed your mouth and parted his but before he could speak the first notes of the next song played.

You two were startled by the change of pace. This was slow. You were so distracted by him you forgot everything– every scream and sigh of this CD that you imagined would delight him. You forgot your own name for a moment and forgot if it was the same one your parents gave you or if the road had carved it differently. 

Joel's eyes closed for a moment like he was savoring something and then he opened it, left ear cocked to hear better. You gathered from Ellie's jokes that he didn't hear so good on the right and you noticed the scar. Manners suggested leaving the topic for him to bring up so you just watched the angle of this face in the Iights here. You wished you had known the person who built this. They'd strung Christmas lights all around the edge of the ceiling, the kind that were all gold. You'd opted for them when you first brought him down here instead of the bright industrial fluorescents. 

"Acoustic." Joel offered. 

       "Sure. If you say so." 

His expression turned from investigative go awed, "Did they really…good choice." 

"I like this one." You offered, "But I don't get how it goes with the rest." 

"It's a cover." 

"A what-now?" 

"Not the singer's song. This is a punk rock song in its original form." 

Show me how you do that trick, the one that makes me scream she said, the one that me laugh she said, and threw her arms around my neck….

You didn’t know the musician but you understood the song. This is how it feels, or how it should feel.

I’ll run away with you. 

You would. If he asked you, if this man asked, you felt in your bones that you would run away. You couldn’t think of another thing that would’ve taken you out of Jackson’s walls besides Joel Miller. 

You didn’t think he was asking, but you were hoping you were wrong. 

He rolled onto his hip to watch you. You weren't the sort looking for anything and you didn't expect anything anymore. Life here had taught you both could kill you in a thousand small ways. You expected rain and you didn't plan for a drought, which could cause any number of problems from starvation to fire. You wanted the scouts to find something and you quietly cursed it to go missing forever. Therefore you wouldn't ask the fates and their twisted humor to make you less lonely because they'd send you the fucking Cordyceps for a laugh. You knew enough women in town eyed Joel but couldn't tolerate Ellie, or they were more of Maria's mindset and Joel hadn't secured enough trust. 

You'd take that man with two hands if offered, but you didn't care to chase things. You were both a little high and listening to music and getting along and sure, you weren't some hot-body younger girl but fucking why would you waste the time wondering if someone wanted that more? You had no interest in hot bodied twenty year old boys. Joel was even older than the mechanic and the one butcher that came over here from time to time looking to see if you had anything for them. Once in a while you did but neither struck you as great company. Joel did. You somehow found Joel's personality the most suited to yours. If he wasn't feeling that way– ah well. You'd survived worse. 

Joel watched you then nodded to himself, reached out and gently touched your hip. You followed his hand with your eyes, felt the soft tug, and knew it for an invitation. Joel would try that hard and that hard only, any remote rejection would be carved in stone. You dropped any edge of tension so he could pull you closer without any effort at all, and then you leaned in.

His mouth was warm. It scratched you a little because his beard wasn't manicured or moisturized. It slapped at your delicate skin, scraped it, as if weighing if it was a threat. He tasted like a distilled man. It wasn't sweet or scintillating, it had an edge, but you wanted that. His hand on the fleshy bits of you that weren't so tight and perky as they'd been when this nightmare started. Your body had been at its best in the beginning of this and thank God because the road would've killed you now and you knew that. He pulled you against his body, which was hard and soft in different ways. Joel didn’t have chiseled muscles, but he was substantial, he was solid, and it was comforting. 

You remembered, vaguely, something like this from before. Lazy kisses in a good atmosphere where lazy kisses were the whole point. 

It could have lasted forever and felt about as short as it did when the singer stopped singing and you knew the song was ending. 

The tempo picked up on the CD and Joel laughed gently against your mouth, "Sex Pistols." 

"You sweet talking me Miller?" You smirked. 

"Trying." 

You cupped his face and pulled him closer, rolled onto your back and brought him on top of you as your bodies arched toward one another with the heat of the faster tempo. You felt the first tell tale grind of his hips to yours, "You can Sex Pistols me if you want." 

He laughed in his chest but his mouth didn't let it escape, letting it escape would mean he was willing to let his mouth leave yours and he wasn't, not for that. 

You listened to the whole CD twice, the only time you weren’t wrapped up in Joel was when you had to get up and press repeat. You’d press repeat whenever you could if this was the symphony that played when you did.

______________________________________________________________

A/N: I really like these two.

Not Beta Read! I'll find the mistakes eventually.

@anoverwhelmingdin

@handspunyarns

@anavatazes

Perma

@janebby

@princess76179

@artsymaddie

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@salome-c

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@ordinarymom1

@stevie75

@monocromaticstaircase

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@chickadee-djarin

@alm0501

@anactualcnut

@moonlightburned 

@thirdtimesthecharm

@cindyy-mayybe

@1andthesame

@girlofchaos 

@frankie-catfish-morales

@thelion-sroar  

@solemnlyswearss

@dmward13

@snarwor

@hotchlover-blog 

@xoxavs88xox 

 @harriedandharassed

@tae27

@alexxavicry 

@lovelyyy-luna​ 

@caswinchester2000​

@jamandtoast86​ __________________ PedroBoys

@kaqua

@gracie7209

@dihra-vesa

@headinthestarz

@withakindheartx

@wild-at-heart-kept-in-cage

@rosiefridayrogersunday

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@athalien

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@likes-good-reblogs-even-better

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@prideandpascal

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@seasonschange-butpeopledont

@littlemisspascal

@eri16

@brandyllyn

@deadhumourist\

@adriiibell

@starwarsjedi98

@hayley-the-comet

@cannedsoupsucks

@levillama

@levi-llama

@tintinn16

@sarahmilesbendrix 

@o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi

@moonlightburned

@iwantadecentblogname 

@phandoz 

@peach-child

@naiomiwinchester

@curiouskeyboard

@elegantduckturtle

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@orinabais

@steeevienicks

@thatpinkshirt

@mssbridgerton 

@fictionalbitch  

@yoditopascal

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@what-iwish-you-knew

@pumpkin-stars 

@harriedandharassed 

@bethanyjojo 

@jitterbugs927

If they are crossed out I cannot tag them!

[mswarriorbabe80]

The Baker

This is a short, fluffy little thing I wrote yesterday just to give myself a break from the sob fest that is The Pilot and his Girl (dark themes there right now...). This little blurb is the part of the fic I'll be tackling once I'm done with The Pilot. It's gonna be just as sweet and fluffy as the baked goods in the readers bakery!

“I don’t know, I’ve never tried baking anything from Latin America, and I speak no Spanish,” you say, twisting the kitchen towel in your hands as the brown eyed man smiles at you. You’ve come out from behind the display case as you prepare your little bakery for closing. 

“Didn’t you take Spanish in high school?” he asks, his dimpled cheek making your heart flutter for a few seconds before you find your voice again. 

“Yeah, sure, but I remember like three or four things,” you can’t help but smile back at him, especially when you recall what phrases you remember. You can feel your cheeks heat up and he definitely picks up on it. 

“You only remember the dirty words?” he winks at you and you have to turn away and busy yourself with wiping down the counter behind you as you giggle. 

“No, they’re not dirty words,” you laugh, shaking out the cloth and tossing it in the back. 

“So tell me then,” he grins, “I wanna hear your Spanish!”

You feel the smile on your face, threatening to take over as your cheeks heat up even more, and he looks at you expectantly, one eyebrow raised up towards his unruly brown curls. 

“Fine…” you say finally, drawing a deep breath and recalling your high school Spanish and the lines you’d learnt from a cute exchange student in college. 

“Cállate,” you say and his eyebrows shoot up before he mimics zipping his lips shut and throwing away an imaginary key. 

“Ven aqí,” you smile at him and he smiles back, immediately stepping across the floor and standing obediently right in front of you.  

You pause and exhale slowly, he’s so close now, you can see the rich dark brown color of his eyes so clear, the woodsy smell of his body wash, or maybe it’s his aftershave, lingering in your nose, and his lips quirk up in a smile. He knows the effect he’s having on you and he loves it. 

You smile back at him, working up the courage to say the next phrase.

“Bésame.”

His eyes crinkle at the corners as his smile widens. He steps a little bit closer, leaning into you, and you feel the scruff of his patchy beard tickle as he softly touches his lips to your cheek. He lingers for a few seconds and you dare hardly move, you can feel his breath on your skin. And then he pulls back, his smile softer now, his eyes have darkened. 

“Any more phrases?” he asks, his voice low, and you nod. 

“Un beso más.”

“Un beso más?” he whispers, his lips already so close, and you nod again as they brush against yours. 

[mswarriorbabe80]

THIS

It bugs me when people are unnecessarily mean. Like, you didn’t have to make that comment. You could have just kept your mouth shut and left that person not feeling bad about themselves. What do you gain from making someone else feel like shit? Nothing of substance. Maybe a fleeting moment of power but that’s gone as soon as it comes so why? There’s enough unhappiness in the world without you adding to it.

[mswarriorbabe80]

this is just like a little library for all the amazing fics and authors we love <33

I'll update this list with new fics as I'm reading, and you can always send me your favorites too! (there are so many fics that I love but I have to find them again😭)

The list is sorted by Pedro's characters so you can find your favorites faster, but besides that, they're not in any order. Some are NSFW, some are (unfinished) series, etc; you're responsible for what you're reading so please always check the warnings.

My favs (= those I've read) are in bold, as I haven't read all of the ones I got recommended yet <3

Don't forget to show your love and support with reblogs and comments that all these absolutely amazing & talented writers deserve! 🤍

@hellishjoel @darkroastjoel @jrrmint @absurdthirst @cool-iguana @millerscoffee @tightjeansjavi

@breakfastatjoels @theywhowriteandknowthings @mandoisapunk @justagalwhowrites @musings-of-a-rose @thelightsandtheroses @gracieispunk @wheresarizona @frenchiereading @elvinaaficupdates @rhoorl @wardenparker @mvtthewmurdvck @swiftispunk @whiskeynwriting @guess-my-next-obsession

All roads lead to someone by @notjustjavierpena

Somewhere to start by @chloeangelic

Carry out by @soullumii

Dirty dancing by @ultraintrovertedgryffindor

I’d love to see me from your point of view by @tightjeansjavi

Sex escapades with agent Pena 1 2 3 by @tightjeansjavi

Cigarettes and feelings by @tightjeansjavi

Just keep breathing  by @swiftispunk

Soaked by @joelscruff

Name by @joelscruff

Under your skin by @pedgito

If I could hold you for a minute by @bluebeary-jay

The performance by @gracieispunk

Married Javi by @lokischocolatefountain

Let me by @swiftispunk

At gunpoint by @creedslove

Salvatore by @devilmademewriteit

A safe heaven by @darkroastjoel

Dark but it's just a game by @devilmademewriteit

Say it with your hands by @swiftispunk

Maintenance man!Joel by @gracieispunk

I know it when I see it (pornstar!Joel) by @bageldaddy

dbf!Joel by @jrrmint

little demon (dbf!Joel) by @chloeangelic

Rises the moon by @psychedelic-ink

What's mine (husbands best friend!Joel) by @gracieispunk

Little black dress by @hellishjoel

I wanna be your lover by @shellshocklove

bfd!Joel by @joelscruff

Right my wrongs (father in law!Joel) by @chloeangelic

Room 77 (dbf!Joel) by @chaotic-mystery

Keeping warm by @randofantfic

Exit wounds (brother in law!Joel) by @strang3lov3

Secret (neighbor!Joel) by @pedrostylez

Your summer dream by @swiftispunk

Catalyst (Joel & Frankie) by @ezrasbirdie

Feelings on fire by @joelscruff

This one thing you did by @joelscruff

Lookalike by @strang3lov3

You're my purpose by @mellowsaturns

Mile high (ceo!Joel) by @macfrog

Dark nurse!Joel by @toxicanonymity

I think it's time you had a pink cloud summer (family friend!Joel) by @joelmillersdumbslut

The sweetest melody by @noisynaia

Push & pull by @sinsofsummers

Significant by @softlyspector

Touching Din by @archieimagines

Fallen gods by @divinehedons

Supply run by @thepascalofus

Spent by @joelscruff

Closer than expected by @ghostofskywalker

Bouquet , Bloom & Blossom by @mypoisonedvine

(Met) in the restroom by @l0ngschl0ngking

Under his skin by @absurdthirst

The apprentice by @absurdthirst & @pedropascalsx

Surrogate love by @absurdthirst

The pilot and his girl by @avastrasposts

The layover by @goodwithcheese

False god by @swiftispunk

Just focus on my love by @javiscigarette

Darkness by @ezrasbirdie

Stripes of a tiger by @palioom

Cracking the case by @absurdthirst

There are still some characters missing on this list, so please let me know your favourites!🤍

If you’re on mobile and the @ aren’t working - i hope to get it fixed soon, but it’s working on the web version <3

[mswarriorbabe80]

Hoping to get some fanfics of Agent Ortega! (Swoon)

Remember this?

The previously unaired pilot to The Sixth Gun TV Series from 2013, has been put up on Youtube.

You can watch it in full here.

Below is just Pedro's opening scene. He plays Special Agent Ortega. There are more scenes with him in the pilot episode, but rather than post them all here and spoil it for you, I urge you to go and watch it for yourself on Youtube.

There are also some screen caps below from the episode that I took, and I've included previously seen images that were released back in 2013 to promote it.

The show was never picked up by NBC for a full series and thus was cancelled. The pilot was never aired - until now where it's been posted on Youtube by a channel called Media Garage.

Pedro also posted a pic of himself in the role as Special Agent Ortega back on 9th May 2013 on his IG profile, stating in the caption "well since no one will see it now."

Alongside Pedro, The Sixth Gun starred Graham McTavish, Michiel Huisman, Aldis Hodge, Laura Ramsey, James Le Gros, Elena Satine & W. Earl Brown, to name a few.

Plot described on IMDB: Failed pilot adaptation of an eponymous comic book set in the old west about six cursed guns that give dark powers and are tied to its owners until their deaths. A heroine and an antihero are after the sixth gun that grants visions.

*Promo Images found on Pintrest.

🖤

[mswarriorbabe80]

Is that a pistol in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me? I'd love to watch you unload that six shooter handsome 🖤