#helena's thoughts and opinions | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wardenparker · 1 month ago

Text

Bones Full of Words, ch 11

Javier Peña x plus size reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

“He pleaded so much that he lost his voice. His bones began to fill with words.” ― Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

Javier Peña had no way of knowing for certain the American journalist he sometimes sees sniffing around the embassy for her stories is also getting information about the narcos from the same girls that he is. After Helena is brutalized by sicarios, it is that same journalist who comes to take her away and look after her -- giving Javi reason to pause and reconsider his opinion of the woman he had previously not considered as anything more than eye candy.

He has no idea that once she has walked fully into his life, he will be battling with himself over whether or not he should stop her from walking out it of again.

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 11.9k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: sex work, time period appropriate sexism, cursing, alcohol, food/eating, talk of weight or size, fatphobia, internalized fatphobia, self-esteem issues, canon typical violence* Fluff, sass, flirting, two very similar people finally on the same page. Vaginal sex, unprotected sex. Summary: Booted back to the States after the DEA puts him on notice, Javi runs into an unexpected and familiar face at his cousin's wedding. Notes: We are finally explicit for sexy soulmate reasons!! ✨🎉🎆 We're almost at the end of this one, my dears! Most likely one more chapter and then the epilogue.

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10

Being back on Laredo is almost surreal. People know him, both from the somewhat reckless younger years spend here, and the scandal of leaving his fiancé at the altar, to the notoriety of hunting Pablo Escobar down. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t been there when the man had finally been shot down like the dog he was, he had been a part of it.

When he got the call, he had been in his second favorite place. The bar. Drinking and smoking, again, trying to not feel sorry for himself. Still on leave from the DEA, his hand slapped and his punishment was being left in limbo as he watched the news for anything Steve hadn’t told him.

“Javier.” His father’s voice finally cuts through his inner thoughts after the third time of having his name called. “You gotta get dressed, mijo.” The elder Peña insists. “Danny’s wedding is in an hour.”

Javi sighs as he blinks away the memories and looks over at the concerned frown on the elder Peña’s face. “Sure pop.” He doesn’t know why it really matters considering he’s not going to be wearing a suit. The event is very Texas, cowboy boots and jeans required, with the excepting of the happy couple.

“You should shave.” His father comments, more an instruction than a suggestion, as he moves through the living room and collects both his and his son’s forgotten coffee cups. “Three day stubble doesn’t look good on anybody. Your Ma told me that once.”

Javi sighs and swipes his hand over his jaw. He should shave, trim his mustache. “Yeah.” He agrees. “I’ll be ready in five minutes.”

“We have time.” Chucho chuckles. “I gotta look good too, you know. That takes longer.”

Javi snorts and slaps his father’s shoulder as he walks by. “Nah.” He teases. “You have natural beauty, pop.”

“Never hurts to put in a little effort, mijo.” Chucho reminds him, watching his son stride down the hall on long legs. Javi’s been adrift since he got sent home. He won’t talk about what happened and he doesn’t socialize with any of his old friends despite their best efforts. He needs to get out of the damn house, and his father is not above using his cousin’s wedding as a good excuse.

In the bathroom, Javi sighs as he stares a that mirror. The dark circles under his eyes have gone away, but there is a haunted look in them. Maybe since the day he put you on a plane to the States. That’s what Steve kept bugging him about since you left, telling him that he was an idiot for letting you go without working things out.

His cousin’s wedding is as much distraction as it is anything else. He spends his days on the ranch and not much of anywhere else, mostly to avoid the questions.

He turns away from the mirror and reaches into the bathtub and turns on the water. He might as well shower and get ready. His dad won’t leave him alone until he goes to the wedding and drinks at least two beers at the reception.

Besides, Danny had been insistent about wanting Javi to come. His older cousin had been a big influence on him and he had wanted to share this day with the man he privately called his hero. Not that he would ever say that to Javi’s face.

Stripping down, he steps into the shower and closes the curtain, groaning quietly at the heat from the water. He has spiraled. Closing his eyes, he leans against the wall.

When you had gone missing, he had gone to Don Berna and Judy Moncalo for anything they could give him. Willing to skirt the line of morality and legality for you had ended up biting him in the ass. He had gotten in too deep, trapped by that helping hand until they had turned on him. The bad thing is, as much as he regrets leaving Colombia in disgrace, he would do it again for you.

Murphy tried to help, in between being a pain in the ass. But the way everything ended up was just fucking ridiculous enough that there was no real way for him to help. So now he gets through each day at a time. Wondering if he’s ever going to figure out what the fuck comes next.

Cleaning up quickly, he steps out of the shower into the steaming bathroom and wipes the mirror clear. Staring at his reflection again. Licking his lips as he wonders what you are doing right now.

******

"Yes I promise to make it abundantly clear that I'm not your girlfriend." You roll your eyes in the hotel room's bathroom mirror as you carefully apply your lip liner. Make up isn't exactly a natural skill for you, but you've learned. "Nor will I cockblock you if you meet a cute girl. But if you bring somebody back to the hotel, I expect your ass to get a new room. I will not be locked out so you can get laid." He had begged you to come when the invitation came through. He'd been invited to the wedding of his best friend from his unit and he'd promised to pay every single dollar of the trip if you came as his plus one. As much as your brother wanted to be there to celebrate with his friend, he hated doing social things without a safety net.

"You're gonna love Danny." He promises, leaning against the door and grinning at you in the reflection of the mirror. He's wearing his white undershirt and his white dress trousers. "He's going to get drunk and call out 'Doc! Doc! I need an IV!'"

"And you will be nice to him because it is his wedding day," you remind him. After lip liner is lipstick, and you inspect yourself in the mirror. In the last few years you've lost weight and kept it off with a strict diet, and while you're not exactly thin you're definitely closer than you used to be. It's easier to be satisfied with your appearance, at least. The babydoll dress that you picked out for today looks cute with a pair of cowgirl boots and you've even been careful doing your hair.

It's just being in Texas that has you feeling on edge. Being so close to Javier's hometown.

“I’ve promised to make sure he’s sober enough to have a wedding night.” He snorts, shooting you a grin. “Does that count?”

"Yes, it is." Smoothing one hand down your dress, you do your best to mask your anxiety by shooing past your brother and heading out to grab your wrap and the happy couple's gift from your suitcase. "Are you ready?"

“Let me put on my blouse.” He huffs, moving over to where it is hanging up to keep it clean.

"I take the least amount of time to get ready of anyone in our family, I swear." It may or may not be true, but right now you feel like you sped through getting ready out of pure anxiety. Ever since you touched down on Texas soil this morning, you've been jittery.

“What’s got you all out of whack?” He frowns slightly as he pulls the blouse on and moves to the mirror to adjust.

"I'm fine," you huff, flopping down on the bed next to where you were just standing and dodging his skeptical eyebrow raise. "I'm fine, Michael."

“And that definitely means you are not fine.” He turns from the mirror and walks over to you, crouching down and taking your hands. He’s become a little bit of a worrier since you’ve come back from Colombia. “Talk to me, sis.”

"It's just...weird." Both of your brothers have doted on you since you came home, taking opposite strategies in helping you resettle yourself into a new life. Almost everything has changed for you in the last few years, but they have been there for everything. And since they've been there with you, they know everything, too. "It's...he's from here. I guess it's more awkward for me than I expected."

“Oh shit.” His face falls, feeling horrible about basically bribing you to coming with him. “I didn’t- we don’t have to go.” He promises you. “I can just go to the wedding by myself and come back and we can rent movies and eat pizza?”

"I said it's awkward, not that I'm going to abandon you to be a socially awkward wallflower." Even though you huff and roll your eyes at him, you reach out to give your brother a swift, tight hug. "I can manage. But you're taking me to the most absurdly Texas bar ever before we leave, so I can line dance and ride a mechanical bull. Then we'll go home and I'll be mopey for a week or two trying not to think about my soulmate. Deal?'

You’ve been hesitant to give anyone a lot of details about your soulmate, and that concerns Michael. You had always had an attitude about it, but he had assumed it was fear that your soulmate wouldn’t live up to your expectations. That somehow the universe would get it wrong and you wouldn’t have what mom and dad had. But when you had come home from Colombia, you had just said you had met him and parted ways. Refusing to tell him more than his first name, Javier. That secrecy had been even more worrisome, since you never normally kept secrets. “Okay.” He agrees, sending you a reassuring grin. “I think we can do that. But try not to mop on the bull, that could be bad.”

"No moping on the bull." The half-smile you offer your brother in thanks is the best you can do right now, but you know he understands. Or at least that he's doing his best to be supportive. Your brothers may have razzed you when you were kids but as adults you've gotten closer than closer. "I promise."

“Oh shit.” Turning back, Michael grabs a small pack off the bed, his medical bag. “Almost forgot the IV’s.” He huffs as he grins at you and holds out his arm for you to take. “Can’t be the ‘Doc’ if I can’t cure the hangover.”

"Dishonorable discharge if you forget. Obviously." You tease, and push yourself off the bed with determination. The Marine unit that your brother serves with means the world to him �� they're his other family — and you won't disappoint him today by chickening out. You're just going to do your damnedest not to think about Javier Peña today.

******

Sitting with family, he’s surrounded by people. People who thankfully won’t ask him questions about his time in Colombia or his soulmate status. That one would be particularly bittersweet as he watches Danny exchange vows with his own soulmate.

The involved Catholic ceremony is anything but brief, leaving kids squirming and some adults stifling yawns, but all attention snaps to the couple for their vows and that eagerly anticipated first kiss of marriage. It stings for those of you without soulmates but no one would begrudge this beautiful couple their happiness. Not when it shines so brightly.

Javi ducks his head down, sighing softly but he claps with everyone else. Standing when the couple starts back up the aisle along with his pop. He didn’t really listen to the ceremony, lost in his own thoughts and thinking about the worn out letter in his wallet.

"Come on, mijo." Chucho shuffles down the pew to wave Javier out into the aisle as the church empties out. He's not looking to be late to the reception and miss out on getting a prime seat where he can watch all the action.

“Sure thing.” He sees someone who has been wanting to hear ‘war stories’ headed his way, so he is hot on his dad’s heels. “Fucking Budweiser is calling my name.”

"And you're gonna bring your old man one, too." The elder Peña chuckles, clapping his son on the back as they walk together.

Javi chuckles and nods. “Of course I will.” He snorts. “You’ll be too busy socializing.”

"Course I will." That makes his father laugh, and Chucho ropes his arm around his son's shoulder as they walk along to the truck, chuckling all the while. "You got you mother's quiet disposition, kiddo. I don't know what to tell you."

“Mom was better a reading people.” He points out, thinking about the woman most would have considered quiet. She was, until she had something to say, then she let you know it. “Just don’t want to talk about the same shit the entire time. This is about Danny today.”

"Could always try to talk to some new people," Chucho suggests when they get out to the truck. He climbs behind the wheel and Javi gets in beside him. "Danny's unit are all coming, and his girl— wife's work friends. You don't know any of them yet. Might be nice?"

“They are all kids.” Javi scoffs quietly. “I remember when Danny was running around taking his diaper off. Now he’s married.” He shakes his head. “I woke up old, pop.”

"Yeah, I know." He laughs again. "But at leas you're honest about it."

“Thanks, pop.” He rolls his eyes and reaches into his pocket for a piece of nicotine gum. He’s been trying to stop, but it’s been rough. “That makes you really old.”

"Yeah, I know." There is more laughter in the truck shared by the two men as Chucho pulls out onto the road again, and the older man just shrugs one shoulder as he shifts gears. They head to the outside of town to Danny's bride's family ranch with music playing and decent – if introspective – moods between them. Both Peñas find themselves think about their soulmates in the aftermath of the ceremony, though neither will push the subject.

“Do you ever regret finding mom?” Javi asks, looking out the window at the rolling grass and weathered fences. “I mean, if you had never known about her, it wouldn’t have hurt so much when she died.” Both men had mourned the loss of her heavily.

“Never.” His father’s answer comes immediately. There is not a single ounce of hesitation in his body. “But…I was lucky enough to love her and cherish her for almost fifty years.”

“Yeah.” His parents had been very early in their discovery of matching scars. “Do you ever think the universe gets it wrong?” He asks after another moment. “Soulmates, I mean.”

Chucho knows what his son is asking, but still he clenches his jaw and tuts, glancing over at Javier as he drives. “I think sometimes the right person can come along at the wrong time.” He says finally. “But we don’t always get a second chance, and that is the unfair part.”

Javi sighs softly, swiping is hand over his face and nodding. “Yeah.” He had told Chucho he had met his soulmate after coming back, but that you had left Colombia a few years before and there had been no contact. He had been disappointed in Javi but hadn’t said much. “Life’s not fair at all sometimes.”

“No.” Chucho agrees, and he shakes his head again as he pulls the truck into the field along with the other party guests. “It isn’t. But going through your life never taking another chance doesn’t help, either.”

“I don’t think she would want that.” He admits softly. “I think I’m more of a reminder about a horrible time in her life.” He had read your article, it was amazing and thought provoking, but he had read the unhappiness between the likes. The relief that it was over. He wouldn’t take you back to that place. Especially since it seems like you’ve fallen off the face of the earth since winning your Pulitzer.

“I’m not saying you have to take a chance on her, Mijo. Not if you don’t want to.” With the truck’s engine cut, Chucho huffs a sigh and turns to look at his son. “But you need somebody. Somebody to spend your time with and grow old with.” When Javi opens his mouth to object, Chucho holds up a finger. “And I don’t count, Javito. I’m gonna be gone soon enough and it’ll be you and the dog. That’s not enough.”

He’s right, even if Javi doesn’t like it. “You can grumble at me on the way home when you’re drunk.” Javi jokes and opens the door, wanting to shelve the conversation for now. “Let’s go celebrate the happy couple.”

The reception is very homegrown, with coolers of beer and dispensers of sangria on either end of a buffet of favorite foods and plenty of space to dance and drink and chat. It’s homey and welcoming, And the DJ is playing good music for everyone as they trickle in.

Javi lingers with his dad. Helping him choose a seat and putting on his sociable smile. He can be charming and engaging when he wants to be and he decides to grin and bear the inevitable questions and remarks about his work and his own botched wedding.

For the most part the other guests are family or close friends. They know the stories already or know that making Javi rehash his history is cruel. But there are always people who are curious and today that includes the first young woman to corner him at the drinks table.

Javi picks up two beers, turning and smiling at the younger woman who is obviously waiting for something. “The punch is good.” He offers, keeping that his cousin always makes the sangria his tía loves.

“Why don’t you grab me some?” The girl can’t be more than twenty-one, batting her eyelashes and sticking her chest out without an ounce of subtlety.

He wants to sigh, but he nods, moving over to the punch bowl and pouring her out a smaller cup of the fruity, spiced wine. “Here you go.” He offers.

“You’re not going to have one with me?” She pouts.

Javi moves down the table and bends down to pick up two beer bottles out of one of the coolers. “Beer.” He tells her.

“Gross.” Is the only comment he gets out of that and she’s gone again without further comment. Apparently off to find some people more to her taste.

He snorts to himself as he twists off the caps to the beers, thankful that his apparent bad taste in drinks had saved him from an awkward conversation. “Thank you, sweetheart.” He hums to himself as he tilts one bottle back for a sip before taking his dad his beer.

“She was cute.” Chucho offers, accepting the beer from his son, but chuckles when Javier looks dubious. “Too young. Obviously.”

“Obviously.” He drops down into the seat next to his dad and looks around, drinking the beer and smiling when someone glances over at him. “Good turn out.”

“Danny’s a good kid.” The commendation from Chucho is as warm and proud as if he had raised the boy himself.

“Can’t believe he’s grown.” Javi admits, glancing over at where Danny and some sailor are laughing and hugging. “And a Marine.”

"Give it a second before you go and say hi." Chucho grunts under his breath and motions for Javier to look to the right of where Danny and his service friends are laughing together. He's fairly certain that Javier won't want to spoil the day with running into Lorraine and the woman that tried to trap his son into marriage is standing nearby the group of men with another woman.

******

“So how you know everyone here?” The slim blonde gives you a friendly, wide smile and gestures around the hall. “I don’t guess I’ve seen you around town before.” Curiosity has always motivated Lorraine, and it’s rare that she has someone new to meet. Even if she’s avoiding the other side of the room right now, not quite brave enough to approach Javi.

"You wouldn't have." You clutch the glass of sangria that your brother had gotten for you and hold onto the little glass like an anchor. "It's my first time in Texas at all. I came with my brother." You motion to where Michael and his friends are chatting a few feet away. "He serves with the groom."

“Oh really?” She follows your finger and hums. “His uniform is different?” She gives a small laugh and shrugs. “I don’t know much about the military, but I think that’s the Navy?”

"It is." Small talk isn't necessarily your forte so you're glad to actually have something to focus on. Being proud of your brothers is at the top of the list. "He's green side." When she has no reaction to that term at all, you explain further. "He's the medical officer with their Marine unit."

“How interesting!” Her brows shoot up and she looks over at the group of men with a hum. “My husband, Randy, is a lawyer, I hear complaints about judges and bailiffs and court reporters.” She rolls her eyes and shakes her head slightly. “So you are keeping an eye on your brother tonight?” She’s already discreetly looked down at your left hand and didn’t spy any kind of ring, leading her to believe that you aren’t married. Randy has a brother that might find you attractive.

"He didn't want to come alone and I like to travel," you explain, laughing a little out of pure discomfort. Not that this woman is rude or anything, she's just a stranger. "Are you family? If you don't mind my asking, I mean. It seems like a tight knit community around here."

“Almost.” Her laugh is both slightly brittle and self-deprecating. “I was engaged to one of Danny’s cousins a million years ago.” She waves it away as if it’s not something that would prompt more questions. “But I’ve known Danny his entire life.”

"Family by association, then. That's really nice." It's sweet, and it reinforces your idea of the community around here being very close.

“Maybe.” She shrugs slightly. “I didn’t expect my ex to be here, but I guess we will have to have that awkward meeting at some point tonight.” She snorts. “Hopefully I’ll be a few glasses of sangria in by then.”

"Oh?" That sounds a bit like a plot point in a book to you, but your mind always has worked like a writer's more than anything else. Even when you don't write anymore.

“Yeah.” She glances around the room and spots Javi handing his father a beer before she looks back at you. “I thought he would still be in the jungle, honestly. But I guess that’s over now.”

"That sounds dramatic." Jungle is not exactly a place you want to be thinking about ever, but the conversational door is open and you can't just walk away from it, so you bite your tongue on anything but letting this woman talk.

“Javier can be dramatic.” She hums in agreement. “But I guess you have to be when you were trying to catch Pablo Escobar.”

Javier.

Your throat tightens and your legs turn to lead, heart pounding out of your chest so that your blood is screaming in your ears the second you realize who you have been aimlessly chatting with.

Javier's ex-fiancée Lorraine. The woman who drew his tattoos onto her skin to trap him into marrying her. The woman who made him so fearful of a soulmate connection.

Arguably? The woman who ruined your chance at a meaningful relationship with your own soulmate by abusing him out of his trust.

"I suppose it's easy to be dramatic when the people around you lie to you at every turn." You intone, still smiling and appearing as bubbly as ever, as if you were accusing Escobar of lying and not her.

She frowns for a moment, tilting her head as she thinks about your statement and tries to ascertain if you are insinuating something about her. “That’s an interesting way to look at it.” She agrees when your smile seems innocent. “I just want him to happy.” She tuts. “He’s been single since we broke up and I heard that he has been suspended by the DEA.” She drops her voice and leans closer, whispering that last part to not let her voice carry far. God forbid someone accuse her of gossiping.

"It might surprise someone how little a person's single status has to do with their exes." Trying not to frown or cross your arms, you clutch your cup a little harder. "People can be perfectly happy without being married. And there is often so much more than meets the eye behind government decisions." Without thinking, your instinct has been to jump to Javier's defense even though your mouth has run dry at the idea of him being in the same room after literal years apart. She said she saw him. He's here.

“Of course.” She smiles, a little uncomfortable with your sudden vehemence and she glances past you. “Oh darn.” She huffs. “My kids need my help.” She shoots you an apologetic glance and skitters by you to go help a little girl around seven years old with her plate at the buffet.

"Shit." Hissing under your breath, you manage to set your cup down on the table next to you and try to get yourself under control again. Maybe you'll just leave. Michael is fine, right? He's perfectly fine with his friends. You can just go back to the hotel and hide. Yep. Hide. Like a coward. That's exactly what you're going to do...

******

It was supposed to just a quick glance. A survey just to see where Lorraine was while he decides if he is going to speak to her here or not. He’s leaning towards not, just because he knows it will make tongues wag. His eyes flicker over in the direction his dad had indicated and he freezes, hand gripping the bottle tight in his fist when he sees you.

Not just you, a smiling version of yourself. You’ve lost weight, an observation that immediately makes him frown and wonder if you have been taking care of yourself. “Fuck.” He hisses, the ache that had been pushed down until it had become dull flaring to life in his chest.

“What?” Chucho asks, glancing back at Lorraine and not understand why his son would curse. “Just avoid her.” He councils, talking about Javi’s ex-fiancée.

That shakes Javi out of his stupor and he picks up the bottle and tosses back the rest of his beer. Pausing only to shake someone’s hand when they reach out before he stands up. “Not this time, pop.” He claps his father on the shoulder and moves through the crowd towards you.

In the second after you decide yep, time to run away back to the hotel room, you abandon your sangria cup and turn around to get Michael's attention but come face to face with an entirely different man. "Javier..."

His smile is lopsided, a little shy, and he scrubs his hands on the side of his jeans as he stares at you. The haunted look in your eyes that was there when he put you on that plane is gone, but you look like you’ve seen a ghost. “Small world.” He jokes, eyes roaming your face, apparently starved for the sight of you.

"Seems like it." It's a good thing you didn't pick up your drink because now your hands are shaking. It feels like all of you is shaking, in fact, and all you want to do is rush to his arms and hug him. He's clean shaven with his mustache trimmed neatly, dressed in possibly the most casual outfit you've ever seen – used to seeing him in suits around the apartment back in Bogotá. "H—how—um...how are you?"

He shrugs, looking around the room and then back at you. “Could be worse.” He admits before he frowns. “How about you?” He asks softly. “You look- good, real good.” His normal charm and smooth words with women falters and his tongue feels like sandpaper in his mouth. The only comfort is that you seem just as startled by his presence as he is with you.

"I've lost some weight." You shrug dismissively. The fact is, you're far more conventionally attractive this way but still self-conscious about your appearance. At least it's easier to get clothes that fit properly. "It's uh...it's good to see you." So fucking good. You had no idea how relieved you would feel until he was right in front of you again.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, unsure how in the world you ended up at the same wedding reception small town Texas as him. “I mean- it’s good to see you to, but how?”

"Danny." Taking a deep breath, you wish you had pockets to shove your hands into. "Apparently my brother serves with your cousin." You hadn't put it together before, because despite living in the same town, Javier and Danny have different last names. "So...the universe is having fun with us, I guess."

He chuckles quietly and shuffles closer to you. “Congratulations, by the way.” He murmurs. “Your article was amazing. You really deserved that Pulitzer and every other award you won.”

"It felt dirty." He is really the only person you can admit this to. He's closer to the thing than anyone else in the world. "It's what he wanted — for interviewing him to be worth that prize. But I couldn't not publish the story." Because you knew it would help him. To have all of that written down as clear as day. A first hand account of Escobar's cruelty. It helped fuel the US government's fire to get the mangey bastard. Which is bittersweet in its own right. "I watched the footage. It's...I'm sorry that..." You sigh softly. "You deserved to be there and it's shitty that you weren't. I'm sorry."

“My fault.” He can admit that, even as he shrugs away the sting of bitterness that needles through him every time. “I don’t regret it. I would do it again.”

"Whatever you did, you still deserved to be the one to shoot the bastard." A slight, soft sigh escapes. One of resignation if nothing else. "For both of us."

He hums in agreement, chewing on his gum and wishing he had a cigarette. “You didn’t read the interview Judy Moncalo gave?” He asks curiously, struck by the ‘whatever you did’ comment. Did you really not know?

"No." You admit quietly. "It, um...it made me too mad to read about you being sent home. So I didn't." What a horrible lie. It absolutely tore you up to read his name anywhere because you missed him so much, but you can't say that to his face.

He tics his brow up in surprise. He had the completely opposite reaction. It had taken everything in him to not constantly look you up. To keep tabs on you. He sighs and looks away again. “When you were….kidnapped, I went to Judy Moncalo and Don Berna.” He admits, shuffling slightly before he looks back at you. “I promised them a favor in the future if they could tell me where Escobar was holding you.”

"Oh god..." The air rushes out of you all at once and your eyes sting, but instead of drawing away from him you instantly give in to your first instinct when you saw him and end up throwing your arms around his shoulders to squeeze him tightly against you. "I'm so sorry," you murmur quietly, letting it all sink in and settle in your bones. He did it for you. To save you. "I can't—I—I'm so sorry and I'm so grateful."

He wraps his arms around you, holding you tight against him and he buries his face into your shoulder and neck, inhaling your scent. “Don’t apologize.” He grunts. “I would do it again.” He repeats. “In a heartbeat.”

"This is..." Sniffling back the tears that will stain his shirt and ruin your makeup, you still hold on to him like a lifeline for a few more seconds. "This is not at all what I thought this weekend was going to be like."

He chuckles, fully aware of that and feeling the same. “I understand.” He murmurs, pulling back when you do and looking into your eyes again. “You look like you need another drink.”

"I haven't even had the first one," you admit, motioning vaguely behind you at the cup you abandoned. "I got distracted meeting your awful ex-fiancée."

This time he winces. “I saw that.” He admits, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Guess that means that she wasn’t her normal charming self?”

“You dodged a bullet.” That is your honest assessment and you’re not afraid to give it.

That pulls a smirk out of him, glancing around to where Lorraine was seated with her kids. “I’d like to think so.” He admits. “Thought about kids with her at one point, now I couldn’t imagine.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.” You tell him honestly, before thinking better of yourself and tacking on: “If only for your sake.”

Licking his lips, he wonders why that added comments irritates him. Why he isn’t satisfied with it. He reminds himself that you had left Colombia and never reached back out again. You are only here because of a coincidence. “Yeah.” He nods, looking back towards the coolers and wanting another beer. “So where are you writing now?”

“I’m not.” A fact which nags and frustrates you, but you pick up your cup and nod toward the drink table. This is not a conversation to be navigated without some kind of assistance. In this case, that’s alcohol. “I got out of that game after the award.”

No wonder he hasn’t been able to find your articles. “Really? Can I ask why? You are an amazing journalist.”

The compliment warms something hollow in your chest, but you still shrug one shoulder as you start to walk together. “I don’t know what I expected, really. I should have known Escobar’s men would retaliate after what I wrote. Coming after me? I get that. It was coming after my mother that made me stop. No matter what, it’s not worth putting my family into that kind of danger.”

“What?” He turns and grabs your elbow, making you face him again. “You- what happened?” Anger and guilt swirls in his stomach. You were in danger and he didn’t even know.

“Everybody’s okay.” You sure him, seeing a flash of panic in the depths of his eyes. “I’m fine. My mom is fine. The guys they sent got busted. It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.” He shakes his head and growls in frustration. He should have had someone watching over you. He hadn’t told the DEA about your soulmate connection between the two of you because he hadn’t wanted to cause any more undue stress. “Why didn’t you call me?”

Startled slightly by the vehemence of the question, you look away and have to take a steadying breath. “I…didn’t think you would want to hear from me.”

“Anytime you need anything, you can call me.” He softens, hating the way you tense up slightly under his hand. “I didn’t reach out to you because of the same thing.” He confesses.

“We didn’t exactly promise to keep in touch.” Which is as much your fault as his. Maybe more. You had been so determined to leave clearly and let him get on with his life.

“No, we didn’t.” He lets go of your arm and shrugs. “I— I should have called though. I was afraid that you would just remember the kidnapping .”

“There hasn’t been a single day of my life that I haven’t thought about it,” you murmur, eyes downcast and already missing the warmth of his small, reassuring touch. “But you saved my life.”

“I’m sorry it took so long.” He’s apologized many times, but he needs to again.

“Me too.” Although you’re not quite sure what to do with the fact that he’s here in front of you know. It feels like a joke being played on you by the universe at large — knowing how you still feel about him but having given that up years ago.

He turns and starts to guide you back towards the drink table. His hand comes around you and rests on your lower back.

It’s a searing sting and the most wonderful ache in the world all at the same time, reminding you of movie nights on his couch and navigating each other in the kitchen. The tantalizing promise of things that never came to be and now never would. At least he doesn’t hate you. That’s more than you could have asked for, as far as you’re concerned.

Javi barely resists the urge to caress your skin over the back of your dress. Biting his lip as he guides you and he wonders if he’s ever told you how pretty you are.

“Beer?” There’s no whiskey, otherwise you would have poured that for him instinctively. But it’s all you can do right now not to think about the heat of his hand ghosting over your back.

“Yeah.” He shoots you a grin. “We promised that we wouldn’t go overboard and stuck with beer for the reception.” He informs you. “Although I know Danny has a bottle of whiskey outside.”

“We?” The corner of your mouth ticks up in amusement. “Are you a wedding planner now?”

He snorts. “Nah. But I paid for the alcohol as a wedding present.”

“Hell of a lot nicer than my brother’s idea.” You snort and hand him a bottle. “Taking him out of buying a sexy music cassette was not a conversation I ever expected to have.”

“Oh fuck.” Javi chuckles. “Nothing wrong with making love to music, but that is personal preference, not a gift.”

“Not at all.” Laughing with him is soothing. Calming. And you’ll take this moment for whatever it is worth. “Which is why I banned him from buying the gift and got them some kitchen stuff instead. Michael said they like to cook together.”

“That’s a better idea. Danny likes to cook. He makes his mom’s recipes.” He smiles. “I remember someone else likes to cook too. Miss that.”

“It’s…actually what I do now.” Don’t read into it. Don’t read into it. He’s just being nice. “I got a job on the line at my dad’s old restaurant.”

“Really?” He looks impressed because he is impressed. Happy that you have found what makes you happy. “How do you like it?” He asks. “I know if you opened up a restaurant here you would make a killing.”

“It keeps me busy. And it makes me feel closer to my dad, so that’s always a bonus.” The comment about being here, though, feels like so much warmth coursing through your heart even though you’re sure he didn’t mean it to be. “Not too many Italian places in southern Texas?”

“Not like yours.” He huffs, rolling his eyes slightly. “You have a gift.”

It’s on the tip of your tongue to put him off. To deny the compliment. To dismiss it. But a split-second hesitation has the truth pouring out of you instead. “Thank you I— I loved cooking for you.”

He almost asks you to cook for him and his dad, but that would be rude – even for him. Instead he twists the cap off the beer you had handed him. “How long are you in town for?”

“We only planned on the weekend.” Suddenly you wish it was more. Running into Javier had been such a fear and now all you want to do is bask in it. “We got in this morning and we’re flying back Monday morning.”

He takes a sip of the beer and nods. “Time to recover from a hangover and get bored.” He jokes.

“Pretty much.” That had been the logic in the planning anyway. “I made my brother promise to hunt down the most gimmicky bar possible with me.”

“José’s.” Javi answers immediately and without any irony. “It’s this little country bar with a bull that services Budweiser and tequila shots.”

“It has a bull?” You perk up at that — it’s all you wanted out of this stupid little excursion and you don’t feel like hiding it. “Do they do line dancing too?”

He chuckles, “It wouldn’t be a country bar if it didn’t.” He promises. “It’s lively on Saturday nights and Sunday nights.”

“You should come.” The offer comes tumbling out of your mouth fore you can stop it, but you won’t take it back. Not when seeing him again feels relieving instead of awkward like you had been dreading.

He is very surprised that you offered, lifting a brow for a moment and searching your face to see if you are just being nice or if you mean it. “Sounds like a plan.”

"We never really had much time for fun in Colombia." You sip your sangria, humming softly at the sweet, tangy, alcoholic brew. Somebody has put some real thought into this recipe. "There was work to do."

“Plus, you never really seemed like you wanted be out in a social setting with me.” He hadn’t commented on it at the time, just taken it as further proof you hated him being your soulmate.

"I didn't figure you wanted to be out in a social situation with me." Rehashing those months together might not be pleasant, but apparently you're in a particularly honest mood this afternoon.

“When the clubs were filled with sicarios and informants who would snitch to narcos?” He shakes his head. “No. I didn’t. But under other circumstances? I wouldn’t mind it at all.”

"It's different now." For better or for worse, your circumstances in life have changed drastically. Both of you.

“Yes it is.” You’ve managed to finish your sangria, so Javi puts his beer down and refills your cup before handing it back to you. “We both are different now too.”

"Maybe not too different," you admit with a laugh, willing yourself to ignore the way your fingers burn when they brush his. "I'm still a stubborn pain in the ass sometimes."

He snorts, glad that hasn’t changed. “I almost didn’t recognize you.” He huffs, slightly disappointed by your weight loss, but that’s not any of his business. You just need to be happy with yourself.

"I know. I look different." Better, but different. But him? He looks as gorgeous as the day he brought you to the airport, which is making your stomach flip. "You look the same. Which isn't a bad thing at all."

He scoffs at that and shrugs. “You lie, but thank you.” He hums. “Have you eaten yet?”

"Why would I lie about that?" Even though you ask the question, you still shake your head. Before being snagged in conversation by Lorraine and then spotted by Javier, you had just been following your brother around like a tail.

“Come on.” He urges you towards the table that is groaning and straining under the weight of all the dishes. “You should try some of this food, all family recipes.”

"If I ever turn down family recipes, take me to a doctor because I am very unwell." The change of topic and focus is welcome, and you walk side by side with him in a moment of comfortable silence.

Javi can see the eyes on the pair of you, some of them assessing and some just curious. He catches his dad’s raised brow but he just points out the dishes to avoid discreetly.

"I'll have to apologize to my brother for ditching him later." You joke, passing over something Javier describes as Texas lasagna that just makes you long for your own homemade dish. "But he'll be fine."

“Do you want to go back over there with him?” He asks, suddenly unsure if you want to spend this wedding reception chatting with him. Maybe you had hoped to meet someone.

Glancing back, you can see over Javier's shoulder that your brother has not only one but two very attractive people captive to a story he's telling — one of them being another member of his unit that you know he has a crush on and the other being a beautiful woman close to his same age. "Nah." You decide, shaking your head and looking back at Javier. "He's fine. Unless..." A startling thought occurs and makes your stomach drop. "You'd rather I leave you alone?"

“No.” He’s quick to shake his head, frowning at the thought. “Not at all.” He promises. “I just didn’t want you to think you had to talk to me if you would rather mingle.” It feels like you are both going around in circles and he huffs at himself in amusement.

"No." Your answer is almost as quick as his, and your cheeks burn with a flutter of something like tension in your chest. Just because it's one-sided doesn't mean the flush of attraction isn't still there. "No, I mean—I'm good. I'd rather be here."

He flashes you a quick grin, lighting up his face and showcasing some of that Peña charm. “Sounds good, sweetheart.”

******

It's easy to lose track of time when you're actually enjoying yourself. Sitting and eating a meal with Javier again feels like coming home in the most sentimental of ways. It's comfortable and has your chest tightening with every laugh. You've found yourselves at a table in a corner away from the rest of the party where you can just sit and talk, and it's such a fucking relief. So much so that neither of you notice when your table is approached halfway through the reception.

Javi sees the edge of a floral dress come into view, pink shoes that match the large flowered peeking out from underneath. He knows who it has to be, she hasn’t changed that signature scent Estee Lauter perfume since they had been together. “Lorraine.” He acknowledges her, not even taking his eyes off of you.

"Javier." Her smile is pinched, looking down at the pair at the table with as much insatiable curiosity as judgement.

He wonders why she is here, but he glances up at the woman. Technically, she’s still beautiful, but he doesn’t see that. He sees the lies and manipulation she had tried to use to get her way. “What a pleasant surprise.” He lies, smiling at her.

"We would never have missed Danny's big day." She bristles at the implication that she ever would, in fact, but puts on a pleasant false smile instead. "I just came to say hello and see how my new friend was doing."

Her pointed gaze is directed entirely at you and you sit back in your chair with pure amusement. She came to be nosy, but that's fine. "I'm enjoying myself immensely," you tell her with a broad grin.

She stiffens slightly and looks between you and Javier, trying to decide if the two of you know each other. “He can be such a flirt.” She agrees. “Weddings are fun places to meet new people.”

“Yes.” You agree with a pleasant, if intentionally vacant, smile. “It was very good to meet you, Lorraine.”

Javi smiles slightly, seeing the confusion on her face, and he wonders if she had told you her name. “You know me, I’m sociable.” He lies, chuckling when you snort.

“That’s us.” You smother more chuckles with sip of sangria. “Always so sociable.”

Lorraine narrows her eyes slightly, lips pinched together and Javi wonders why she’s so irritated. “How’s Randy, Lorraine?” He asks mildly. “The kids? You’ve got two now, right?”

“We’re all wonderful.” She claims, with the right assurance of someone who is absolutely lying. “I’m surprised you remembered.”

He shrugs casually and picks up your now empty glass. “Trained to retain even the most useless information.” He quips before looking over at you again. “Need a refill?”

“Please? I may have to beg your tía’s sangria recipe off of you. It’s amazing.” There is so much familiarity, so much comfort, in the way you interact. It very obviously can’t be the first time you’ve met, which only makes Lorraine’s pinched frown deepen.

“Don’t count on getting the recipe.” Lorraine tuts, sending you a sympathetic look. “It’s a family recipe and she won’t get it out to just anyone.” Javier had been about to walk away, but her comment made him turn back. Only taking a second before he decides to open his mouth. “I’m sure she would count my soulmate as family.” He declares firmly.

The way the air is sucked out of the conversation is instant and smothering. A pin could drop and the sound would reverberate between them until the end of time. Lorraine's jaw unhinges in shock at the same instant that you have to force all the determination in your entire body into not reacting.

He said it. He said it out loud. He acknowledged it to his ex-fiancée. Instead of a stomach that flips with nerves or anxiety, you positively beam with pride.

"Your—?" Lorraine sputters, when she can finally breathe again.

“Soulmate.” He repeats with a nod, reaching out and placing his hand on your shoulder. He knows that he shouldn’t have revealed this so casually, he hasn’t even told his father, but it seemed fitting to acknowledge his connection to you to the woman who had tried so hard to convince him that she was his soulmate. “We discovered the connection in Colombia.”

A smirk slowly crawls across your face, tucking itself in the corner of your mouth. "In the jungle."

Javi watches a myriad of emotions play out over Lorraine’s face, the prominent one being utter disbelief, but he just hums. “I guess I should thank you.” He makes it sound like he had only put two and two together right now, even though it has been a thought in his head since meeting you. “If you hadn’t lied to me and tried to haul me to the altar, I would have never accepted the job in the DEA and gone to Colombia.” His hand squeezes your shoulder gently. “And I don’t know if now wouldn’t have been our first meeting instead of then.”

Your eyes close briefly against the thought — mostly because you're certain that you wouldn't have survived Colombia if not for Javier — and you reach to place your hand over his on your shoulder. You give it a firm, affectionate squeeze and when you open your eyes again you're looking up at him with such fierce fondness that it crashes over you like a wave. "Forget the drink," you decide, blocking out everything around you including Lorraine. "Dance with me."

His response is immediate, setting down the cup and turning his palm to hold yours. “Absolutely, sweetheart.” He murmurs, not using the endearment for Lorraine’s sake, but for the way you are gazing at him. Like you are his sweetheart, like he deserves that affection.

The dust left in the wake of your exit from the table might have choked her but you wouldn't care. The only thing you care about is the song that is changing over to something slow and sweet as you walk out to the dance floor together. Hand-in-hand as though all the fights and all the frustrations didn't matter at all.

Javi feels like there’s been some unspoken turning point. Facing you once you reach the dance floor, he shoots you a grin and pulls you against him. Fitting you along his lean body and humming when it seems like you just click into place, your hand on his shoulder and on his arm as he winds around you to guide you through the song. “Think she’s still trying to find her jaw on the floor?” He muses, even though he couldn’t care one bit what she thinks or how she reacts to the news.

"Probably." The giggle — actual, real, amused giggle — that bubbles out of you is as amused as it is aghast. It feels like you've floated up onto a cloud somehow. "You know she'll tell everyone, don't you?"

“Oh yeah.” He snorts, fully aware that everyone in the room will know within the next five minutes, maybe even before the song is done. Unless she’s somehow magically struck mute or decides that she’s going to keep it to herself. “Do you mind?”

"No." Surprisingly you don't mind in the least. Not even when the people who are going to find out are his family. His friends. His community. "No, I don't mind. It serves her right for sticking her nose in, and..." You shrug slightly but keep close to him as you turn slowly around the dance floor together. "And things are different now then they were then. There's no one to keep that secret from anymore."

“They are different.” He can agree with that. “Hell, I don’t know if I still have a job.” He admits. “I’ve been told to stay here until they call me to Washington.”

"The investigation will go as long as it needs to." Which stings in a particularly tender way, now that you know why he did what he did. "I wish there was something I could do to help."

“Actually…” he smiles softly at you. “This has helped a lot.” He confesses. “I will never doubt that I did the right thing.”

"I'm sorry it's cost you so much." Of course you won't claim to be sorry that he did it. That he saved you. But you do wish it hadn't cost him everything else in the process.

“Don’t know if it cost me much.” He has been thinking it, but he’s never said those words aloud. “I think you saved my soul.”

Whatever you expected him to say, that certainly isn't it, and you tilt your head slightly in utter surprise. "That's quite a thing to say."

“It’s true.” His fingers flex on your waist, bringing you closer just a bit. “I had forgotten what it was like to care about more than the job. Or my next drink, or next fuck.” He licks his lips and sighs softly. “I wanted you to stay, I just couldn’t say the words. Not when you wanted to leave so badly.”

"As long as we're being honest..." Moving together automatically and oblivious to any-and-everything else, you only find yourself drawn in closer to Javier as you move through the dance. Your hand on his shoulder squeezes a little tighter without realizing it. "I didn't want to leave you. I just couldn't handle staying in Colombia while he was still out there."

“Oh.” He hadn’t realized that but he can see why you would want to get as far away as possible from the man who had kidnapped and tortured you. “You would have stayed if we had killed him that day?”

Somehow, with all the people you had ever talked to about that night in so many different capacities, no one had ever asked you this question. And that might be why it startles the truth out of you so easily. “If you had wanted me to.”

“Yes.” He murmurs softly, looking into your eyes and wondering why the hell he hadn’t said anything about how special you had become to him then. “I’m selfish enough that I would have wanted you to.”

"We...weren't good at talking about things then." Not like you apparently are now. Maybe it's just that enough time has passed. Maybe it's that the pressure in your lives is so much less now. That the world doesn't seem to be pressing down on both of your shoulders as it falls apart at the seams.

“No, we weren’t.” He can admit that, even though he’s not great about talking now. But you should be the one he’s willing to make an exception for. “Maybe we just needed time.” He ponders. “Or maybe it’s needing to lose you to find out how much it would hurt.”

"It wasn't supposed to." The tempo of the song that's playing is slow and sweet and you swear it's lulling you into some kind of dream — or maybe it's the way Javier's hand is inching around your waist that's doing that instead. "It was supposed to let you live."

“That’s why I put you on that plane.” He agrees. “Because I wanted you to live how you wanted.”

You practically choke on the irony, shaking your head to banish the rising instinct of tears in the face of so much revelation. "Stubborn, self-sacrificing idiots." You almost manage to laugh, but not quite. "Both of us."

“Yeah.” He huffs, frowning slightly, but it’s a soft frown. “So what do we do now?” He knows what he wants, he knew it the moment he saw you, but he wants to know where you stand.

"I have no idea." The only thing you really know at the moment is that the song is ending but you don't want to let him go, and you're not too sure what to do with that information.

Javi hums, staring at you for a moment before the tiniest smirk starts to curl the edges of his lips. “Wrong answer.” He grumps, right before he reaches up and holds the back of your head and slants his lips against yours.

******

The sound of moaning coming from Javier Peña’s bedroom is not exactly unusual. It’s who is moaning that makes this particular evening so extraordinary.

Your back hits the doorframe as his bedroom door slams open, and maybe if you had been able to see where you were going, it might have been more graceful of an entrance. But it feels like you haven’t been able to stop kissing Javier since that moment on the dance floor. Behaving yourself on the drive back to the ranch had been excruciating and the second he threw the truck into park he had dragged you out of your seat to head into the house.

Javi chuckles into your mouth, pulling you away from the door and spinning you around so he can kick it closed. Not breaking contact for a second when he feels like he will die if he doesn’t slide inside you. Even at his most needy, he’s never been this frantic. If he didn’t think you might hit him, he would haul you against the door and fuck you right there. No he wouldn’t, your first time deserves more than that, but he feels like it.

The closed door means privacy at last and even though you could easily have pulled over to the side of the road at any time on your way back, there was an unspoken agreement here — that the first time you did this, no matter what else happened, you're going to do it right. "Javi..." Whining this name is definitely one more right thing, even if you're too far past the point of desperation to finish any kind of thought when one of his hands slides up your side to cup your tit over your dress.

“Yes.” Whatever your question is, whatever demand you have, the answer is yes. He grins when you gasp into his mouth, his fingers twisting around the tight little nub under your bra. Squeezing and kneading you before he moves to your zipper at your back, knowing he has to touch skin.

"That." You groan in deeply frustrated, tightly wound, near-relief as he tugs at your zipper and you start to pull the tails of his shirt free from his jeans.

He hums in agreement, knowing exactly what you mean as he immediately starts to unhook your bra, his tongue sliding against yours as he undoes it.

It's the first time in your life you've ever cursed buttons for existing, but you're fumbling with his shirt as his overlarge hands seem to span every inch of your skin at once and you're still craving more. Your fingers stumble over each nub of plastic, pulling his shirt open one by one, and your swear your cunt flips all over again when you find hot, bare skin underneath instead of an undershirt.

“Goddamn.” He shudders when your hand touches his stomach, nail scratching over a flat nipple. Your panties are next, pulling your clothes down to where you have to let go of him for them to fall so he can have more of you.

"Could not agree more." You manage to gasp out, shuddering with an almost painful lack of his hands on you. Having left your boots at the door, you're fully naked before him for the very first time but all you can think about is stepping forward to undo his pants and nudge him toward the bed.

You are soft, curvy. You might look at your body and see the stretch marks, the skin that isn’t as firm as you wish it to be. He just sees you and how fucking perfect you are. His cock twitches painfully when you bump against the bulge in his jeans and he groans when his fingers find the thatch of curls between your thighs.

The barest touch from his fingers is enough to make your knees wobble but you have a firm hold of his jeans and peel them away with shaky hands. Every new touch is too much and not enough, making you burn and ache in ways that you never knew possible. Too much, not enough, and completely perfect, that's the barely coherent thought in your head when you sink down to your knees in front of him and tasty the silky, salty weight of his cock on your tongue for the first time.

“Shit.” He hisses loudly, cupping your cheek and groaning when you hum around him. “Sweetheart- fuck….” His lashes flutter, watching you under hooded lids as you lick down the side of his length.

"Mmhmm." Your hum of agreement is low and indulgent as your fingers wrap around the base of him. The salty, musky tang of him fills your senses and wipes away the rest of the world in a way you never thought possible.

He’s imagined this scene more than once. A man who enjoys sex as much as Javier has imagined a lot of different things. This blows away everything he had ever thought of while his hand was wrapped around his cock. “Fuck.” He grunts again. “You are talented, sweetheart.”

A moment of cynicism might have had you convinced that he’s said that to every girl before you as well, but the thought never even occurred to you. It doesn’t matter what he’s done with or said to anyone else. The only thing that matters is that you’re finally here together — and that he already sounds even more wrecked than you had ever imagined.

It’s been a lot longer than you probably imagined since Javi had had sex, so he’s quickly closer than he would want to be. Rocking his hips back to pull his cock out of your greedy mouth. “Goddamn— I can’t- get on the bed.” He growls, wanting to make sure you enjoy yourself before he loses control.

The thin string of saliva and precum that pulls from the corner of your mouth is only barely thinner than the thread of your self-control at this point, but you manage to only whine a little when he pulls back and follow his direction to climb on top of his bed. As long as he comes with you, you’ll go anywhere he wants.

Kicking off the pants piled at his feet is the only thing left and then he can climb into bed with you. He pauses, staring at you for a moment before he frowns. “Condom?” He asks, wanting to know what you think. “I- had a physical when I got back. I’m clean.”

“I am too…” He doesn’t need to know that the work up you had when you got back to the US years ago was a new kind of torture or that you haven’t slept with any of the women you’ve dated since coming home. This is not the time for those details. All that matters is now. “I don’t—I don’t care. I just need you.”

Javi growls, jaw clenched and anyone who didn’t know him would think that he’s furious. That he’s about to lunge at you for reasons completely opposite what makes him spring forward and grab you. “Fuck.” He hisses, slamming his lips against yours again. “I’ve needed to hear that for so goddamn long.”

“For years.” All you can do is gasp. Moan. Beg.

So many fucking years have been wasted. So much time lost. Javi makes up for it. Learning your curves like he will be tested on your erogenous zones and only graded on those that are most sensitive.

His hands and mouth trace every inch of you, memorizing and committing to pleasuring every part of you in every way possible just as you do for him. It’s a glorious game of give and take where you are both the winners, never losing anything but breath and composure until he kneels between your spread legs and lunges all over again to kiss you while pushing inside your body at last.

He should have gone down on you. He had meant to. He had meant to lap at your clit and feel smug while you thrashed above him, but the soft stroke of your hand around his cock had driven him crazy. Just as interested in fucking him, your cunt is slick and damn near too wet as he slides through your folds and inside the heat of you. "Fuuuuuuuuuuck."

Your keening wail would have been heard across half of Bogotá, but the whimper that follows out is just for him as he stretches your pussy to hug the veiny length of him. In a world so full of noise and chaos no matter what the age, any lover with the ability to narrow your focus is worthwhile. But him? It feels like the rest of the world has ceased to be.

Javi’s eyes are closed like he is praying. Lips ghosting over your chin, your cheek, anywhere he can reach as he bottoms out inside you. “God.” He huffs silently, twitching and trying to resist the urge to start moving just yet.

“Nope.” You tease. You can’t help it. With one of your hands cupping his cheek, you squirm under him but hold his gaze. “Just me. Just us.”

He would snort, shoot back some sarcastic retort, but the look in your eyes stops him. The teasing mirth is mixed with real affection and he’s nodding with you. Melting into the realization that this is real, for both of you. “Just us.” He murmurs, leaning in to kiss you again. The passion is still just as fierce, but there is a complex layer of something else mixed in.

The shift in mood from hungry to almost reverent is palpable. From a desperate demand to a blossoming prayer. So that when he draws his hips back for the first time and slowly pushes them home again, you could nearly cry along with crying out.

He shudders a groan into your mouth, absorbing your sounds and sighing in response. Pulling you closer and wrapping his arms around you, holding you close while he slowly starts to rock in and out of you.

You melt into the mattress together, a mess of rolling hips and grasping limbs, sweat damp from the Texas heat and burning desire. Every cry is poured into more kisses, every moaned sound of encouragement swallowed up by the sweep of a tongue or nip of teeth. The heavy weight of him on top of you feels somehow like the missing end of your limbs, and you press in closer with every arch of your back — ink to ink, scar to scar, soul to soul.

Javi can’t get enough of you, every dip of his hips, every time you squeeze his cock tight, it’s like coming home. His nose presses against your pulse and he groans your name.

Waves of pleasure wash over you again and again, merciless in their tempo and determined to carry you away with them. So you cling to him. As if he were the anchor you did not know you needed to seek. As if he is the only thing capable of seeing you through this storm of emotions regardless of the fact that he’s caused them. He rocks into you at a steady tempo that has you sobbing his name, half moon marks biting into his shoulders when you crest that mountain of pleasure and fall apart for him.

It’s searing. Burning with how hot, how perfect it is. Making him crave the way you sob his name, gasping out in pleasure. The throbbing of your walls and the wet heat of your pleasure wrapping around him and drowning him in you. He only has one thought and it bursts from his lips when he pushes deep and gives in to the incessant need to fill you. “I love you.”

If it were any other person — any other — you would have teased. The instinct would have been too great. Professing to love someone the first time you cum inside them could be construed as so immature or inexperienced that it would have been easy to at least question it. But this moment is so honest and so vulnerable that you wrap your arms tight around him and stroke his sweat-slick back, pressing an earnest kiss to his lips instead. “I love you too.”

Acceptance, it’s something that he’s never thought he would be so fucking relieved to receive. You love him too. It’s not one sided, it’s not built up in his head with layers of guilt and yearning. It’s not twisting into falsehoods and teaming with expectations. It just is. He groans into your mouth and slides his tongue against yours when you open your mouth for him.

You lie tangled up in each other like that for as long as you can. Sharing kisses and holding onto each other like the other will evaporate if you let go. You’ve loved him since before you left Colombia. You have and you do. For it to be shared? Is your most far fetched dream come true.

He knows that a conversation has to happen, probably several of them. Right now though, he just wants to hold you. His fingers trace your shoulder and down your spine when you twist into his side. He had frowned when you didn’t throw your leg over his and had reached down to pull it up on his body. “That’s better, baby.” He hums before he had started his little teasing touches. “Fuck, I need a cigarette.” He chuckles.

“Same.” You laugh right along with him, snuggling into his side. “Except I can’t remember where I left my purse.”

“I’m trying to quit.” He admits. “But I think it doesn’t count if you share a cigarette, right?” The mood is light, almost playful and he feels more relaxed than he has in years.

"Definitely not." Your sage agreement comes with a kiss that you press to his chest. "I quit when I got back to the States but then everybody at the restaurant smokes, so I slowly picked it back up again."

“I’ve got a pack of cigarettes in my nightstand.” He motions towards the side closest to you. “Light us one up and we should probably have a long overdue talk.”

------

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

BFoW: @haileymorelikestupid @theorganasolo @missladym1981 @alexiamargot06 @southernbe @cloudroomblog @the-queen-of-sorrows

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Javier Peña #Javier Peña x reader #Javier Peña x you #Javier Peña x female reader #Javier Peña x f!reader #Javier Peña x plus size reader #plus size reader #Narcos #Narcos fanfic #soulmate au #forced proximity #and they were roommates #enemies to lovers

122 notes · View notes