#im too embarrased to like heavily proofread so take that as u will lol

[rebelhan]

nights like these

pairing: Javier Peña x Reader (no y/n)

word count: 3.5k

warnings: 18+, explicit sex, unprotected sex, cursing, angst (if you squint), thigh riding (if you squint), oral f receiving, barely any plot... 

a/n: A long week with no new leads has you and Javier falling back into familiar patterns. This is my first post on this blog and also my first time writing for Javi!

masterlist

It’s nights like these when he needs you the most. When the sun has set hours ago and the embassy is empty save for the three of you, the warm glow of the desk lamps, and the dwindling bottle of whiskey passed around your desks. The words on the page were swimming in front of his eyes even before Javier took a single sip of alcohol, the strain from days on end of staring at files catching up to him.

A glance at the clock tells him he should call it a night, but his eyes fall to Steve across from him. One hand seems to be permanently fixed in his blond hair in frustration and his eyes squint down at the photographs as if he can will them to give him an answer. Javier turns to your desk and your eyes are moving back and forth across the page with a speed he didn’t think you could muster this late at night, but the empty whiskey glass held idly in one hand tells him that you’re feeling the fatigue, too.

Nights like this are when you are furthest from catching Pablo Escobar. It’s the end of a week with no field action, flicking through file after file after file, listening to every communication, even at the lowest levels of the cartel, desperate for some kind of lead.

Though there are nights when it’s the chase that keeps the three of you at the office this late. Where you feel so close that there isn’t time to waste on sleep because a win is at the tip of your fingers and all you need is to reach out. The adrenaline of having these criminals within your grasp fueling you through the night. Not this time though. This time it’s the fear that every waking moment you spend not working on this, Escobar slips further and further away.

But even that fear isn’t enough to stop the exhaustion as the small hand of the clock slides past one. Javier clears his throat as he looks back down at his file and the small sound is enough to interrupt the silence and break Steve’s concentration.

“Shit. I gotta get home to Connie,” he says, finally registering the late hour. Steve’s chair scrapes the ground as he stands up and gulps down the rest of the whiskey in his glass. You glance up at him and nod in farewell as he grabs his keys from the desk and his jacket from the back of the chair and drapes it over one arm. He claps a hand on Javier’s shoulder as he leaves. “You guys should head home, too.”

You grab the bottle of amber liquid from where it sits on Javier’s desk and he follows the movement as you tip a generous amount into your empty glass. He takes that as a sign that you’re sticking around for a while. Neither of you have someone you need to get home to anyway. There isn’t much for either of you outside of this work, and sad as it seems, it makes putting in the long hours a lot easier.

Despite being the only two people in the embassy at such a late hour, the silence is warm rather than eerie. Minutes pass by, punctuated by the sound of your pen scratching your notebook, Javier turning a page on the lengthy dossier he’s squinting at, the liquid sloshing around in the glass that doesn’t leave your hand.

You move to bring the glass to your lips and the motion distracts Javier for a moment. Your face is cast in a yellow light from the lamp illuminating your desk, the shadows behind you seeming darker, or maybe his eyes are playing tricks on him, but Javier swears you’re glowing. He’d say he was zoned out if you asked, but really he’s intently studying the features of your face as your eyes are trained on your notebook and your glass is still pressed to your lips, as if you got distracted from drinking by something you read. His eyes follow your hand as you tip the glass and take a sip, tracing the planes of your neck as you swallow the liquid, glancing back up to watch your tongue dart out and swipe across your lips for the lingering taste. Then all at once, he looks back down, forcefully turning a page, though he’s not sure he really understood what was written on the previous one.

He knew this pattern all too well. You guys get stuck in a rut, Escobar evading you for a while. The two of you stay late after Steve goes home. You both drive home separately, but he catches you at your door, across from his. He invites you over, desperate to take his mind off of feeling like a failure. He fucks you. It’s rough, messy, quick, but it’s enough to distract him. He doesn’t feel guilty at first, not until you’re tugging on your clothes in the middle of the night and he watches you slip out the door without looking back. He feels worse the next day when he sees you again, though you never bring it up. He knows he’s using you to ease his emotional burdens, but he imagines you wouldn’t say yes on these nights if you weren’t doing the same. It’s an unspoken agreement that it’s just stress relief, but he’s determined not to follow the pattern tonight. Especially not when the lamplight reflected on your face is tugging at his heart and that is something entirely new that he isn’t quite ready to think about.

The sound of your empty glass hitting the desk pulls him out of his thoughts and a glance at the clock tells him that he’s spent the better part of the last hour thinking about you instead of reading his file. Your chair scrapes the ground as you stand up before gathering your things. Javier watches your face as you pause for a moment, eyes scanning the surface of your desk, searching for something. Something seems to click as you shut your eyes and groan, rubbing a hand over your tired face.

“Fuck.”

You meet Javier’s eyes and he raises an eyebrow. “Steve drove me here this morning. My engine needed to be replaced after getting shot at last week.” A fact both you and Steve seemed to have forgotten as he was leaving. You huff in frustration. “I can wait until you’re ready to head out,” you say.

For a moment, Javier contemplates his earlier decision. He told himself he wasn’t going to fall into bed with you tonight. But the moment the words slip out of his mouth, he knows where the night is headed. “I’m ready to go now.”

It only takes a minute for him to get his things together. You wait in the doorway of the office for him and he shuts off the lamps on your desks before following you out. The hallway is dark, save for the light of the moon filtering in through the windows, guiding you towards the exit. Javier’s hand falls to your lower back as he pushes open the door to the outside. It feels like it’s burning straight through your shirt and imprinting your skin against the cold of the night. It remains there while you cross the parking lot until you reach his car and he has to step around to the driver’s side.

The ride to your apartment building is silent. Neither of you have the mental capacity to hold a conversation after such a fruitless week. The radio plays a quiet tune from whatever station Javier had been listening to when he drove to work that morning. You train your eyes on the familiar landmarks outside your window, pointedly avoiding looking at Javier. His car is filled with the scent of him, so strong, so intoxicating, that you feel like a single glance at his face would tip you over the edge. By the time he parks in your building, you are overwhelmed by his presence. Rationally, you know that it’s the stress of the week catching up to you and your body anticipating what it has come to expect after such weeks, but that thought does nothing to slow the thumping of your heart.

This time Javier doesn’t need to ask. You don’t part with him to stand at your door and perform the charade of fumbling with your keys, waiting for him to call your name as an invitation. Instead, you’re right behind him as he unlocks his door. If he’s surprised by the change, he makes no indication, holding the door open for you and closing it behind you.

As soon as you hear the telltale click of the lock, you waste no time, tugging him down by the collar of his shirt and slotting your lips against his. He makes a sound that comes from deep in his chest and lights a fire in your belly. He nips gently at your bottom lip, eliciting a gasp from you. With a quick motion, he turns you and pushes you against the door, one hand cradling your head to soften the impact, the other holding tight to your waist as if he’s afraid you’ll slip out of his grasp.

Javier’s knee presses insistently between your thighs against your clothed center and the contact has electricity jolting up your spine. Your breath is short and ragged as he drags his lips along the column of your throat, stopping to tug your flesh between his teeth and lick over the bruised skin. One of your hands finds purchase in his hair, another on his shoulder, giving you leverage to grind against his thigh as he continues his assault on your neck.

A particularly sharp bite at your pulse point has your head tipping back against the door and his name falling from your lips in a breathy moan. “Javi.” He shudders at the utterance. His grip on your waist tightens impossibly and you feel his shoulders tense under your palm. He pulls back to meet your eyes. His expression is unreadable to you, unusually so, but you think nothing of it, distracted by the sight of his swollen lips. He shifts, flexing his thigh against you, his eyes never leaving yours, and when his name escapes your lungs this time, he presses his face back into the crook of your neck, the groan he lets out muffled against your skin.

Javier pulls back, and your hand falls from him, only for his grip to encircle your wrist and tug you impatiently towards his bedroom. He pushes you backwards towards his bed, fiddling with the hem of your shirt. You pull the article of clothing off and toss it aside. He stops when the backs of your knees knock against the frame of his bed, reaching a hand behind your back to unclasp your bra and slide the straps down your arms. His lips find yours again as his thumbs brush over your hardened buds. You suddenly become conscious of the fact that he hasn’t shed a single piece of clothing and you fumble with the buttons of his shirt, unsuccessful in your attempt to remove it as his lips move down your neck again distracting you from the task.

He pushes you onto the bed and you land with a bounce, pulling yourself up the mattress while he unbuttons his shirt. His eyes catch yours again and there is that unfamiliar look that you can’t quite place. If you didn’t know this to be what it was, a quick fuck to distract from work, you’d think the look was something almost tender, but you knew better than to let your mind wander down that road and even consider the possibility.

When his shirt falls away, Javier finds his place above you, hands on either side of you. He lowers his head to your chest, pressing his lips to the flesh there. He moves along your sternum, leaving a trail of kisses down your torso until he’s impeded by your jeans. With a flick of his hand, the button is undone and he tugs at the material in a silent request. You raise your hips and he shimmies your jeans and panties down together, leaving you laying bare in front of him.

It’s certainly not the first time you’ve been laid out in front of him, but the sight of Javier on his knees between your legs goes straight to your core. His eyes drag slowly down your body like he wants to memorize every detail of the sight and you hold your breath until he leans down to press a kiss to the inside of your thigh. The air releases from your lungs in a shaky sigh.

Each bite to the skin of your thighs has your breath catching in your throat and leaving your mouth in a quiet whimper as his tongue soothes the reddening skin. His lips get closer and closer to your center and you can feel your arousal coating your thighs as he stays just shy of where you want him. With each nip at your skin, the sounds leaving your mouth rise in pitch, but Javier seems content to take his time. Somewhere deep in the back of your mind, it registers that this is far slower than the two of you usually take it. It’s like he’s not looking for relief, instead he’s savoring it. The thought is fleeting though and you lose your grasp of it when Javier presses his lips just above your clit.

Your thighs tense in anticipation. On instinct, one of your hands moves to grip his hair and the other clings to his sheets. 

“Javi, please.”

“Patience, hermosa,” he mutters against your skin, but he relents, finally, finally, pulling your knees to sit over his shoulders. The endearment is new, but you can’t find it in you to hold on to that thought, your mind foggy with arousal. He places one hand flat on your lower stomach and grips your thigh with the other, hard enough that you’re sure deep purple imprints of his fingers will litter your skin in the morning. He lays his tongue flat against your core, licking a stripe from your entrance to your clit and collecting your arousal. Your hips buck against the hand that holds you down and it takes every bit of control left in you not to pull his head down against your core.

He draws another moan of his name out of you when he suckles your clit between his lips, alternating his tongue between swirling around and flicking the bundle of nerves. Your heels press into his back, an unconscious desperate attempt to pull him closer. The hand on your thigh finds its way between your legs and you feel his fingers at your entrance. He pushes two digits past your entrance and scissors them. This time when he sucks particularly hard on your clit and curls his fingers, you can’t stop your back from arching, pressing your core further against his face. The moan he lets out is obscene, like he’s enjoying this more than you are. The sound vibrates against you and pushes you closer and closer to the edge. He adds a third finger and his assault on your clit is relentless. With a few more pumps, you explode, the waves of pleasure radiating through every inch of your body. Your toes curl at his back and he lets you ride out the orgasm against his mouth and chin, his tongue still moving against you until it’s suddenly all too much and you push him away.

When he sits back, he slides his fingers out of you and your walls clench around the emptiness. His chin shines with your release. Your chest rises and falls quickly as you come down from the high. He meets your eyes as he places his fingers in his mouth, licking them clean. The action is enough to have another wave of arousal coursing through you. You pull him into a bruising kiss and you taste yourself when you slide your tongue past his lips. His erection is painfully hard against your thigh and your fingers reach for him, undoing the zipper of his jeans. He takes the hint and moves back to remove the material along with his boxers.

As he leans back down, you take the opportunity to flip him onto his back so you’re straddling his thighs. You spit into your hand and grip his hard length. He lets out a hiss at the contact and you pump your hand up and down. His hands grip your thighs bruisingly as clipped grunts escape his lips. You brush your thumb over the head, spreading his arousal, and stroke him until his hand catches your wrist, stopping you abruptly.

His eyes are pleading. “I need to be inside you.”

You raise your hips and position yourself above him. With a shaky breath, you lower yourself onto him. The delicious stretch has your head falling back. Javier lets out a slow groan as the feeling of you surrounds him. A guttural “fuck” leaves him as you bottom out. His hands leave your thighs and grope at the soft flesh of your hips as you begin to rock back and forth on him. The rhythm you set isn’t enough for him, and it’s not long before he’s raising your hips with his hands, meeting your thrusts with his own. The pleasure builds slowly inside you with each thrust.

As the pace quickens, he stops you, shifting onto his knees so you sit in his lap, one hand on your back to hold you close. The new angle gives him more control and he slams your hips against his over and over again, biting at the skin of your collarbone. The sound of your skin slapping against his is so salacious, you might have been embarrassed if he wasn’t hitting a spot inside of you so perfect that the feeling cleared your mind of any other thought besides the way he stretched you out.

He snakes a hand between your bodies and his thumb finds your clit. A couple quick circles has you clenching around him. You tip over the edge for the second time that night, your vision going blank for a moment as every muscle in your body tenses. Your head falls back and you cry out  as he continues to thrust into you through your orgasm, his face pressed to your chest. His thrusts falter and he spills into you with your name groaned against your skin followed by a string of curses. He keeps moving slowly until he’s soft inside you and the feeling is too much.

He doesn’t slip out of you then, like you expect. Instead he holds you in his lap, panting deeply. His head is cradled in your arms and your chest heaves, matching his. You let yourself enjoy the haze of pleasure until you feel him pressing kisses to your chest. Your heart drops to your stomach in a feeling you can’t quite name and you stiffen for a moment. He keeps moving his lips against you as if he doesn’t notice and you force yourself to relax in his arms, though now you can’t ignore the thought that’s flashing red in your brain. This is new. And much softer than what the unspoken agreement between the two of you entailed.

He finally lays back and you roll off him, feeling an emptiness where he once was. You let yourself pause for a couple seconds to try and pull yourself back together. It’s not enough time to process what just happened, but you know you just need to get your clothes and get to the apartment across the hall and you can deal with everything soon enough. But as you sit up and swing your legs over the side of the bed, ready to begin the search for your clothes that are no doubt spread around the room, Javier’s hand yet again encircles your wrist.

“Wait,” he says. You turn your head to catch his gaze. You’re met with that unfamiliar look in his eyes, again.

“Stay,” he says.  It’s a request, spoken quietly into the dark room, and you know that if you agree, you’re throwing away the delicate balance that the two of you have woven. Whatever this is will cease to simply be relief from a terrible work week, and you don’t know if you’re ready for that. And neither does Javier, but he knows he can’t stand to see you leave his apartment without a glance back on another night like this.

Wordlessly, you move back onto the bed and you lay your head on his shoulder, the hand he holds placed gently on his chest. There’s a silent understanding that this is what you both need right now, even if neither of you can admit it, the fallout tomorrow morning be damned.

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