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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 days ago

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Meet the Family 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your boss needs a last-minute favour for the holidays.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen

Note: um I woke up to this in my head. Sorry.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You honk your horn as another driver slowly veers toward the line. You’re not letting them in. If they can’t weave in, then they aren’t fast enough to leave the slow lane. You sigh and gesture at them as kindly as you can in that instant. You have enough going on.

Your phone starts to ring. Again. You tap the button on your steering wheel to answer. You would know who it is even without his custom ringtone. Your boss allows no space for breathing, even on a call.

“How far out are you, pixie?” Lloyd asks as you growl and lean on the gas pedal. You hate driving on the highway, especially at night, and the sky is steadily dimming.

“Close,” you assure him. “Next exit,” you flip your blinker on.

“Thank god. You got everything?”

Yeah, everything you forgot. You don’t give the dry retort aloud. You know better. Where your boss has no filter to be found, you find yourself often censoring yourself. As much for his ego as for others’. Arguing never gets you anywhere.

“I believe so--”

“You believe or you do?” He asks impatiently.

“Mr. Hansen, I got everything on the list,” you assure him. “All with a bow on top.”

“A life saver, pix, I swear,” he praises, but a compliment from him is rarely genuine, more transactional. You did him a favour so he’ll give you a treat.

“Alright, I need to get over, ramp’s coming up. So--”

“Yeah, yeah,” his ends rustles and you hear a muffled female voice, “I got shit going on too. You got the address, text me.”

He hangs up first. You can never be the first to end the call. He has to make the decisions. You just know how to guide him to the right one. You merge into the exit lane and follow the ramp away from the whirring stream of headlight. Finally.

You’re less than pleased to be within minutes of your destination. This isn’t how you envisioned your holiday. A last-minute itinerary change to fix yet another of Mr. Hansen’s oversights. It’s never a mistake, he’s just a man with so much going on that it slipped his radar. Another bandage for his ego.

The slower pace feeds your agitation. At least on the highway, you felt like you were getting somewhere. The lazy roll of the cars in the town tweaks at the nape of your neck. You just want to be in one place and that won’t happen even when you get to Mr. Hansen.

You’ll be lucky to have two hours of sleep before you have to catch your rebooked flight. Yep. You’ll play Santa and drop off your lot before hiding at the hotel long enough to dread the airport jungle. Then it’s off to your own familial obligations. Those are rarely enjoyable and being a day later than promised will hardly please your mother.

Your phone announces your arrival at the destination. The long drive of the over-sized suburban mansion is full. You park on the street and turn on the interior light. You get out and open the back seat. The whole medley of shiny paper and quaffed bows stares back at you.

You text Mr. Hansen and wait, huffing and puffing with impatience. Of course, you have to upheave your plans to meet his deadlines, but he’s taking his time. It’s not a surprise, not even a disappointment, you expected as much.

“Pixieee,” Lloyd drags out the last syllable, “there you are, pretty pixie.”

Pretty Pixie? He’s drunk or he’s going to ask for something else. You brace yourself as his shadow struts up the long driveway and passes beneath the cone cast by the tall street lights. Coloured lights glimmer over him from the eaves of the surrounding facades.

“Mr. Hansen, wrapped, labelled, everything you requested,” you gesture to the backseat.

“An angel. A true saviour, pixie,” he surprises you as he grabs your head, his palms pressing to your cheeks as he bends to kiss your forehead, “did I ever tell you you’re immaculate?”

“Mr. Hansen,” you gently pull his wrists until he drops his hands. You smell the alcohol radiating off of him.

“It’s the holiday, call me Lloyd, sweet cake,” he insists.

“Right,” you tut and turn to drag out the largest gift bag, “here, you better just take all this, I have to check-in--”

“About that,” he ignores the gift as you hold it out. “We’re just about to start dinner, you should pop in, have a bite.”

“I can’t, Mr. Hansen--”

“Of course you can,” he insists. You look up at him. His eyes gleam in the spectrum of lights shining from your car, the houses, and the tall poles. You sniff. He’s only tipsy, there’s still the hint of authoritarianism firmly implanted in his tone. “I told everyone you would.”

“Everyone?” You echo anxiously.

“The family,” he exclaims as if it should be obvious.

“Okay, I can come say hello but--” you wiggle the bag at him.

“Damn right you can,” he catches your hand and takes the bag. He drops it on the ground carelessly.

“Mr. Hansen, that’s fragile,” you say.

“Shhhh,” he grabs your hand and you curl and unfurl your fingers desperately, “Lloyd, remember?” He feels around in his pocket as he keeps you in his vice, “now, you just need to slip this on.”

He struggles to line up the ring with your finger as you squirm in confusion. What is he doing?

“Mr. Han--”

“Lloyd,” he growls, all humour trickling away. He squeezes until you whimper. “Look, I just need you to smile and bat those long lashes of yours, alright?”

“What’s going on?”

“As far as anyone knows, I proposed to you on Thanksgiving,” he says.

“Proposed?!” You nearly shriek.

He hushes you again and finally rams the ring down to your knuckle. “Look, pixie, mommy’s being a real pain in my ass so you just need to play along.”

“Mr.--”

“If I have to tell you one more time--”

“Lloyd,” you gulp, “please. I... this is... strange. What? Why? I have a flight in eight hours.”

“Cancel it,” he sneers. “Double time and a half for holiday overtime. See the family in the New Year.”

“What? That’s-- This is insane--”

“This is your job, honey,” he clings to your hand. “To do what I say or you can spend your January trawling the job boards.” He squeezes until the band digs into your flesh. “Now, I know Mr. Walker thinks you’re darling and he offered you a role last year but once I tell him about your little defiance issue, I don’t think he’ll be interested--”

“Huh?”

“I know a lot more than you think,” he grits. “Alright? So let’s start getting this shit inside. That’ll give you a chance to get yourself together.”

“Lloyd,” you gasp. “Why--”

“No more fucking question. Since when did you get so uppity,” he barks.

“Sir--”

“Ah, none of that, either,” he lets you go and waggles his finger in your face. “Relax. Have some eggnog when we get inside and take the edge off.”

“This can’t be happening,” you murmur.

“It’s fucking happening, alright?” He picks up the bag off the ground. “I keep you around ‘cause you’re quick on your feet, Pix, so let’s get to it.”

“Oh god,” you utter.

“Keep it to yourself,” he warns.

Your disbelief has you a bit dumb. You’re panicking. He knows you have an insurance policy with Walker and you have no doubt he’ll do all he can to spoil your future if you fuck around with his present. You’ve worked long enough for him to believe his threats, even when everything else is dubious.

You turn and grab several gifts from the backseat. You move out of his way and he gathers some more himself. He backs up and uses his knee to close the door. He nods you toward the house.

“Smile, act like you’re excited,” he commands.

You pass him and stare up at the blaze of holiday lights. The lawn is decorated with a Santa and sleigh, complete with all his reindeer. You make the march up the walk and towards the glowing windows that trim the front door.

Lloyd comes up next to you and kicks it, “open up.”

It isn’t long before obedience appears from the other side. You do a double take at the man who answers the door. He looks a lot like Lloyd but not. He doesn’t sport the same bristly stache and his hair neatly combed, the sides unshaved but tidy. He rolls his eyes.

“Was hoping you got lost in the snow,” the man scoffs.

“Shut up,” Lloyd shoulders through, “always a fucking prick, Hugh.”

The other man snarls, “don’t fucking call me that.”

“Aw, I’m sorry, baby boy,” Lloyd puts the gifts on the bench against the wall, under the large mirror with an elaborate frame. “Why don’t you go suck on mommy’s teat?”

“You’re disgusting,” the other man, Hugh, hisses.

“Speak for yourself. We’re the OnlyFans thot? She not joining us?”

“Oh, fuck you.”

“Fuck you, fuck me, we already did this, remember?” Lloyd faces him.

“And who’s this slut?” The man tosses you a sharp glare.

“Woah, man, that’s my future wife,” Lloyd lies so easily it startles you. He sounds almost genuine and you’ve never heard him sound like that. “Not a slut, so keep your eyes and your hands to yourself.”

“Huh, I didn’t believe it,” the man puts his hand on his hip as he looks you up and down, “she’s tiny.”

You narrow your eyes, speechless as they talk about you like a new lamp.

“Ransom,” Lloyd gestures to him derisively, “Pixie. Now you’ve met so you can skedaddle back to the liquor cabinet.”

The man, Ransom, snickers, “good luck, sweetheart,” he scoffs. “If you need a drink, just look for me. You probably will. At least for the next forty years.”

He struts off through the archway behind him and you look at Lloyd. He takes the armful of gifts from you and grumbles. He stops and crosses his arms.

“Well, get your boots off. Mom will kill you if you’re tracking salt all over her freshly polished floors,” he shakes his head. “And a bit of advice, stay away from my cousin. Ransom’s a fucking pest.”

“Right, sir.”

He tilts his head and you show your palms, “Lloyd.”

“Good girl,” he says and slips free of his loafers. “Now, you’re going to have to meet my parents before anyone else or I won’t hear the end of it. I’ve already got an earful. I know I shoulda booked that resort...”

You unzip your boots and set them aside on the rack. You stand and he beckons you past the open archway and down the hallway. You take in the decor; gold on beige on ivory. It’s all very luxurious.

He pushes through a white birch door and warmth enshrines you along with the smell of turkey. There’s a clattering beneath a shrill voice snapping out orders, “oh, not mashed, whipped!”

A tall blonde woman crosses her arms as she hovers like a vulture over the aproned staff crowded around the large marble island. Lloyd grabs your hand and drags you after him. Your socks slip on the tile as dread coils up your limbs.

“Mom, she’s here,” he announces as he gets close to her.

“Ugh, about time, they already set the table and I was dreading the empty plate,” she slithers. She turns her chin down to see you, “Oh, look at her. She’s so... petite.” She levels her hand with the top of your head, “much different than I envisioned.”

You look at Lloyd as he pushes his shoulders back. You’ve never heard anyone talk to him like that and you’ve never seen him so uptight. You turn your attention back to the woman.

“Hello, Mrs. Hansen, it’s nice to meet you,” you offer your hand.

She considers it then grabs it, turning the ring up. You examine the jewel as she does the same, your first glimpse at the thing. She harrumphs, “that’s the ring?”

“Mom,” Lloyd utters.

“Mm, very well. Dear, you may call me Gwenyth, not Mrs. Hansen,” she lets you go. “Now, dear son, out of my way. I’m trying to get dinner done.”

Lloyd stares at her, almost expectantly, the takes your hand again and leads you away. He pulls you back through the door. You don’t dare say a word. He leads you away from the kitchen and the wall of voices buzzing from the front room. He guides you through the archway opposite and around to another door.

He knocks and there’s a lull as you wait. He taps again. There’s coughing from the other side. “What do you want?”

“Just me, Dad,” Lloyd answers.

“Ugh, get in here then,” the timbre calls back.

Lloyd twists the knob and urges you in ahead of him. The smell of cigar smoke blows in with the cold wind. A gray-haired man puffs by the window, his efforts to puff through the opening sabotaged by the wintry gusts.

“Close the door. I don’t need the banshee sniffing me out,” he growls.

“Sure,” Lloyd shuts the door. “Dad, uh, this is her. The woman I told you about. My fiance.”

“Took you long enough,” the man sneers. You flinch and his grey eyes soften, “him, I mean. Forty-three years--”

“Dad,” Lloyd rasps.

“Well,” his father looks you over, “she’s young. Bit small...”

You do your best not to let your annoyance show. So you’re a little shorter than average.

“William,” he introduces himself, “and you are?”

“Pixie,” Lloyd answers for you.

“Didn’t ask you, boy,” William rebukes and keeps his eyes on you. “You smoke?”

You mull his question and sigh, “never tried it but I guess it’s never too late to start.”

William snorts, “truer words.” He puffs, “I don’t recommend it. Horrible habit.” He tamps out the stogie in a copper tray. “Well then, is the food ready, or did you just come to show me your woman?”

Lloyd stiffens and touches your lower back, “guess I just came to do that.” He mutters, “come on, let’s go get something to drink.” He turns and opens the door.

“Don’t let the smoke out,” William snips as you spin around.

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #series #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #the gray man #dark!lloyd hansen

233 notes · View notes

msjarvis · 1 year ago

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Ari.. holy guacamole! 😦

That’s perfect! Just perfect!!! 🤯

The way Javi is sweet, caring, attentive, absolute ready to lay the world at her feet.. 😭😭

Your Javi is superb!!!

Thank you so much for sharing such wonderful piece with us.. ✨💖✨

You are a rockstar! 🤩

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

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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

#wheresarizona #javier peña #javier pena x reader #fanfic writer appreciation post #please Santa get my a Javi for xmas #le sigh 🥺

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