#jesus x javi

[theyreunderadumpster]

"My rare pair only has 100 works!" "My rare pair only has 50 works" YEAH WELL

[vole-mon-amour]

ah, yes, it's a COMPLETE mystery why I ship these two. it's not like they're flirting and smirking at each other, and Javi asking Jesus to stay for him TWICE, and Jesus giving him the bedroom eyes and calling him a charmer. it's not like they have actual chemistry and are interesting together, unlike Kate's romance forced on Javi. it's not like that at all.

(it is.)

[whaleshake]

Nobody does crack ships better than me baby 😎

[jasonsbruce]

[kaiboone]

Some Boone/Javi propaganda

[kelperine]

I just finished replaying A New Frontier and ur telling me they drag Javi along with Kate the whole time in a weird relationship in this family oriented game only to have Jesus rizz him up at the end? AND THEY ACTUALLY HAD CHEMISTRY?

I’m so sick of media writing such bare bones love interests that we pick the side character who they seem to have a real connection with.

Ik the writers prolly didn’t intend for this but something about Jesus’s character being rooted in community and respecting loyalty only to see Javi rise to the challenge to defend a place that is very much not his home was probably Jesus’s wet dream.

TELL ME THOSE AREN’T BEDROOM EYES. He was looking down at Javi like he was a full course meal. He was trying not to jump that wonderful man’s bones right then and there.

[mashkustal]

Old meme, but still makes me chuckle

[theyreunderadumpster]

Casual flirting aside, look at the way they look at eachother. Someone in the animating room was horny as hell. They're about to boink on the ground in the town square for fucks sake! 😭

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Small Touches and Simple Gestures

Summary: Javier Peña x Fe!Reader -> For years you've pretended to be married to avoid unwanted attention. But what happens when the lie you've been living, suddenly becomes true. Well, at least a part of it.

Disclaimer: Swearing, fluff, one of the agents making a move on Reader though nothing happens (Javi stops it). Fake dating, falling in love, embarrassing mothers, office romance. Heavy smut towards the end, so 18+. Happy ending. A lot of smaller intimate moments between Javi and Reader away from the smut, too. Kinda a long one. Not Proof Read.

If someone had told you that three years into working with Agent Javier Peña you’d be wearing a wedding band, marrying you to him for at the very least, the foreseeable future…you wouldn’t have believed them. 

And you would be right not to. Because that, technically, wasn’t what it was for. 

And it had all started with a question that Peña asked you one day as you sat at your desk. 

“Was he real?”

You slowly tore your attention away from the case file in front of you. “What?”

“Your husband.”

For a moment you forgot all about how you’d first come to interact with Peña. He had asked you out. Well, flirted heavily then asked you out. 

“What husband?”

Javi stood as he talked, walking towards your desk and sitting down on the edge of it closest to you. “One day you’re wearing a wedding ring telling me you’re married, the next it’s gone.”

You looked at your hand. “Oh. Yeah.” You decided to admit the truth. “I made him up.”

Despite his constant theories, he was still shocked. “What?”

“I made him up.”

You said it as if you were asking him how his day was. Like it was nothing new. 

“You made him up?”

“You try and be a single woman in this office who doesn’t like getting hit on by every guy who thinks with his dick,” you told him. “See how quickly you make up a fake family.”

He had to laugh. “But I hit on you.”

You looked at him, suppressing an already knowing smirk on your face. “My point exactly.”

“Think I got something.” From the door, Steve came sweeping inside and threw a couple of files down on Javi’s desk. The previous topic was dropped for now but you took a moment to revel in the shock graced on Peña’s face. 

However, a few hours later, it was brought back up again. 

You’d been standing in the evidence locker, looking for yet another misplaced case file. Could people not read in this office? Had they lost all sense of the alphabet? You sighed heavily. 

“How long have you been doing it?”

You jumped and found Peña standing behind you. “Jesus, Peña. Make a noise or something. Fuck.” You turned back to the messy shelf in front of you. 

“So?”

You sighed. “Doing what? This? Feels like hours.”

He shook his head and rounded you before leaning against the side of the shelves. “Not the files. You being married.”

“Oh, uh…” You pulled a few hefty files and handed them over to him before reaching down onto the lower shelf and pulling those files up. “Couple years, I guess. Since before the Academy.”

“Why?”

“Didn’t you hear me earlier, or do I need to repeat myself, Peña?”

He shook his head again and put the files down. “No, I heard you. But that’s here. Why did it start?”

You sighed and stopped what you were doing to look at him. “Why are you so interested all of a sudden?”

He let out a small chuckle. “What? Come on, you’re one of the first Agents here to reject me not once, but three different times.”

You raised a subtle eyebrow. “I was married when you did that.”

“The first time, yes.” Javi corrected. “But that was an honest mistake. The second and third time, there was no ring on your finger. And, after this morning, you technically weren’t married at all. Look, just answer my questions and then I’ll drop it forever.”

“You promise?”

He held up his hand. “Scouts honour.”

You gave a questioned hum. “It’s difficult to imagine you as a Scout.”

“Y/l/n.”

You groaned. “Fine. It started because I got asked out a couple of times by this guy. He seemed nice and all but I wasn’t interested. So, when he asked why I kept saying no, I told him I was married. Swapped my rings over under the bar top before showing it to him. He took it well, apologised and said my husband was a lucky fella.”

Peña continued to listen. 

“Then I moved away. The second time I was with someone but this guy just kept hitting on my friend. She went to the bathroom and then he started on me. Told him I was with someone. He didn’t believe me. So, I showed him my wedding band. Said my friend was married, too. He,” you sighed. “Eventually backed-off. After that it just kinda became my go-to. People I interviewed preferred to see a married woman than a single woman being a cop. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t start out my job as married. But the minute the compliments, and the touching and the dates being pre-arranged because they expected me to say yes…once they all started, I started wearing my wedding ring.”

“So why take it off?”

You shrugged. “Guess I must have forgotten. Besides, nobody has tried anything in the last couple of years. We’ve all been too busy.”

For a moment, Peña’s demeanour seemed to shift. “But I’ve flirted with you.”

You smiled a tired smile and stepped back from the files for a moment. “I work with you, Peña. I like you but I think I’m immune.”

“That hurts.” He deadpanned before placing a hand over his heart. “That…wow.”

You laughed. “I think you’ll bounce back.”

And he did. That night he walked out telling Murphy he had a date with the stall girl he’d met a few days ago. 

The following weeks were hectic as different cases made their way across your desk, all with connections to Peña and Murphy’s biggest case; Pablo Escobar. 

From interviewing victim’s families, to interrogations, to the crappy coffee in the break room. Your days and nights were spent looking over files and dealing with your case loads. Until one afternoon in the breakroom led to something you never had expected. 

There was another Agent working at the Embassy. You’d seen him around a few times, shared a conversation or two. But most importantly, he had seen your wedding ring. You hadn’t missed his behaviour over the last couple of days. It started with smiles in the hallway – innocent enough. Then you found him in your breakroom more. Apparently the coffee was better. Then he was sitting at your table during lunch – apparently his partner was out for the day and he felt like some company. You didn’t miss his eyes clocking your hand. 

“Your wedding band. It’s gone.”

You didn’t know why at the time, but the lie fell from your lips. “Oh, yeah, It’s in for a cleaning. It had a couple dark patches and scuffs on it.”

More things started creeping up. Like how he always stood just that little bit closer and not in a comforting way, when you were both talking. Or how his eyes looked you up and down before you got to speaking distance from each other. 

Then in the breakroom, the ‘compliments’ started. How your hair looked – how it always looked. How you always made ‘women’s clothes look so much better’. How he enjoyed spending time with you because you actually talked to him. 

“You know,” he trailed a finger up your arm and you were three seconds away from breaking it and running to take a scalding hot shower. “I was thinking we could get away for a while. After all, we both deserve a break. Maybe take these lunches outside of the office.”

You stepped back. “I’m married.”

“Oh, come on, we both know that’s a sham.” He told you, taking a step closer as you took another one back. “You never bring him to office parties, there’s no pictures on your desk-”

“I don’t need to prove to you or to anyone else that I’m married.”

He laughed. He actually laughed. “You’re not about to tell me he lives in Canada are you?”

“No. He-”

“He’s right here.”

It was safe to say you were shocked, but the agent didn’t seem to notice as he turned round and found Javi standing in the hallway. 

“Peña. I was just-”

“Scaring my wife?”

The guy was turning paler by the second and yet somehow his ego carried him through. “You mean work-wife, because I have to say Javi, that doesn’t really count.”

“How about a marriage certificate? Does that count for you?” Peña finally found you by his side before he whispered to you.

“You okay, cariño?” All you could do was nod, the shock of him pretending to be your husband still settling over you. 

He looked back to the agent who had been hitting on you. “I’m gonna tell you this once and only once. Hit on my wife or scare her again, and I’ll kill you.”

“Javi-”

“I don’t think Messina would be happy to learn one of her best Agents was being sexually harassed.”

He nodded, backing away. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Javi shook his head. “Not to me. To her.”

Awkwardly, the guy looked from Javi, around the room, back to Javi and then to you. “I’m sorry.”

You didn’t move. You didn’t speak. Peña’s your husband?

“You can go.” 

Taking Javi’s instructions, he left. Peña then waited a minute before turning towards you. “You sure you’re okay?”

You nodded. “I’m fine. Thank you, by the way.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“But you shouldn’t have done that.”

“What?” He asked, holding the coffee pot in one hand and your mug in the other. 

“Javi…” You looked around the room before looking back at him. “This is gonna spread around the office. You and I -- married.”

He shrugged. “What’s the big deal? Now you’ve got a physical person to pretend to be your husband.”

“Javi.” He handed you your cup of coffee before pouring his own. “Please tell me you are aware of your own reputation? And the fact that we are colleagues? And the fact that I have been making a husband up for god knows how long? People are going to know this is fake and then I’ll be judged – heavily – for it.”

“Why would you be judged?”

You rested a hand on your hip. “This is gonna look like I’ve used you to be my pretend husband and everyone will just feel sorry for me and make a big joke about it with you.”

“Except I’m the one that told him.” Peña pointed out. “If anything, that’s what’s going to spread around the office.”

“Ah yes, I can see the headlines now; ‘Agent Javier ‘slut’ Peña finally ties himself down with a female colleague.’.”

He shrugged. “We don’t have to be tied down if you don’t want to.”

You hit him on the arm. “Be serious.”

“Look,” he set his coffee cup down and took you by the shoulders. “If it becomes anything then we just fake it. We already spend most of our time together anyway, and who hasn’t had an office romance once in their life?”

“I haven’t.”

Peña paused for a second before nodding. “Congratulations. You’ve just lost your office romance virginity.”

“Peña.”

He shook it off. “All I’m saying is, if it becomes a thing, we just…roll with it.”

“Roll with it?”

He nodded. “Roll with it.”

“There’s a chance our careers hang in the balance because I’m pretty sure this breaks at least three rules in HR. And your grand solution is to…’roll…with it.’.”

Javi nodded once more. “We’ll be fine. I promise.”

It was not fine. Neither of you were fine. Especially considering two days later you were both forced into Messina’s office where, before you could spit out the truth, Messina interrupted and said she didn’t want to know. Just that you both had to remain completely professional and that if someone ever caught either of you, you’d both be suspended. 

So, things remained somewhat neutral. You both received a couple of looks from other co-workers. Murphy teased both of you relentlessly, despite being the only one to know the truth since you stopped the elevator when all three of you were inside to tell him as much. 

But then the loud rumours started and people didn’t even try to hide them. 

Whilst pouring you and Peña a cup of coffee each – something you had done almost everyday for three years, you could hear people gossiping. 

“Maybe he knocked her up. Shotgun wedding, you know?”

“I don’t think they’re even a couple. I mean, they never show any kind of affection to each other.”

One disagreed with that statement. “No, I’ve seen him with her a few times. Little touches here and there. Must be their love language. Small touches and simple gestures.”

“That’s cute, I guess. But I kinda expected more from Javi. He was always so…you know.”

The woman beside her sighed, “Yeah.”

You walked away more confused about life than you had been since before you started highschool. 

It was clear the rest of the office ‘knew’ about ‘you and Javi’. And that they each had a different opinion on the matter. And some of them you didn’t even know about, but Javi did. 

He’d heard everything from your marriage to him being a sham because he got you pregnant, to both male and female staff asking him “why y/n?”. Except, it was never in a friendly manner. To the men, it was either because they thought “Javi could have any choice he wanted, and he went for her?”, or because he’d gone for one of the women they had wanted “a shot at” themselves. And to the women it was…much of the same thing, with an added jealous streak wondering why he went for “the one woman who didn’t want” him, when most of the other women who’d worked with him “actually wanted” him. 

Javi’s eyes trailed your every move from the coffee station, back to your desk and then towards him. “You okay?”

You zoned back into reality and handed him his coffee. “Yeah. Fine. What have you got?”

Turning the case file around, he told you. 

Around a month or so later, not much had changed. People were still gossiping about your marriage to Peña, the case was gathering little evidence so the constant reviewing of previous case loads was underway. Between keeping up the lie of your marriage to Javi – despite neither of you having to do much out of your normal routine – and the case work and the constant heart attack you got when Messina would stop walking when stood directly between your desk and Peña’s before humming and moving along, you were running out of energy. 

“Come to mine after work.”

You looked around. People were looking but they were too far out of earshot to hear. 

You took the paper from Javi. 

“Why?”

“You’re tired, and I’m tired watching you eat that shitty stuff from the cafeteria. I’m cooking dinner.”

You looked up at him, shocked. “You can cook?”

He smiled. “Yeah, yeah. After work. I’ll leave the door unlocked for you.”

Javi tapped your desk twice before walking away and looking around the office. Everyone who had been looking quickly looked away before looking back at you. Once they found you looking, they turned back to their work. 

For a moment, you looked at the half stale coffee on your desk. It would be nice to have a decent meal considering you’d been eating left-overs for about a week and half. 

And he kept his promise. 

Javi had left work an hour before you were supposed to. He’d grabbed his jacked off the hook behind your desk, bent down and pressed a kiss to the top of your head, your body too tired to fight off leaning into him when he did so. You had meant to clock out of work an hour later but staring at words, losing concentration and trying to focus back in meant when you finally looked at the clock, you were getting close to being forty minutes late. 

“Shit.”

Not bothering to drop your stuff off in your apartment two floors up, you found Javi’s door unlocked like he’d said and you walked inside. 

It smelt like heaven. Good, hot food. And Javi. 

It was quiet as you walked down his hallway and eventually found him relaxing on the sofa, his legs thrown across the rest of it. He was watching reruns. 

“Relax,” you could hear the smile in his voice despite not being able to see his face. “Figured you’d be late. Food’ll be ready soon.”

With a relieved sigh, you dropped your bag by the steps and walked around. He moved his legs for you to sit down and he watched you for a moment as you pushed the heels of your hands into your eyes and leaned back. 

“Tired?”

“Exhausted,” you admitted. 

“Come ‘ere.” His voice was soft and quiet as he reached out for you by the shoulder. Looking at him for a moment before silently agreeing, you let him pull you down until eventually you were laying beside him, your head on his chest, his legs tangled with yours. 

It took him a moment, but Javi removed your hair-tie letting your hair loose before running his fingers through it. You relaxed almost immediately, feeling the once growing headache slowly melt away with each touch of his hand. 

You could have fallen asleep but he didn’t let you. “You’ve gotta eat. I didn’t slave over a hot stove for nothing.”

You groaned a little and buried yourself deeper into his side. “How are you this calming?”

“It’s my natural touch.” Javi told you before kissing the top of your head and sitting up. “Come on. Dinner’s ready. Then I promise, you can fall asleep.”

“Hallelujah.” 

It took you a moment but your head eventually stopped spinning long enough for you to sit up and walk over to the table where Javi had set down both of your meals. And it was one of the best you’d ever had; either because he was a great cook, or you were starving enough that any food that wasn’t cafeteria left-overs would taste like heaven at that moment. Though, you had a feeling it was the first one. 

In silence, you both washed and dried. Until you spoke out the pressing question on your mind. 

“What happens if we meet ‘the one’?”

“What ‘one’?” Javi handed you another freshly washed plate. 

“I mean,” you spun it through the dish towel. “To everyone else, we’re married. But what if we end up meeting the person we actually want to date and marry? What do we do then?”

Javi shrugged. “Guess we get divorced.”

“But we’re not actually married.”

“Then we play it by ear. They say when you know you know…maybe when we know, we just…tell them the truth. But I doubt that’s gonna happen.” Javi nearly crapped himself. “For me, not you. I doubt that’ll happen for me.”

You looked at him. “Why?”

For a moment, he was quiet. Thinking. Deliberating. “Back in Texas, I was gonna get married. Lorraine. She was a wonderful woman but…I don't know. I was driving to the church and I just stopped.”

“You left her at the altar?”

“I never made it to the church,” he admitted. “I don’t know. I suppose at some point I’d settle down but…” Javi shrugged. “I can see it happening for you though, so, whenever you do meet him, I can be there to help explain this whole…situation we’ve got going on.”

You laughed a little at that. “Thanks.”

Twenty minutes later, you were half asleep before Javi pulled you over to him once more. The last thing you could remember was you taking a deep breath in, the scent of him, his home and his cooking fill your senses. 

When you woke up, you found yourself still on the sofa, the news playing on the TV and Javi cooking in the kitchen. It took you a while before your brain registered you weren’t still dreaming and you’d fallen asleep not only at Peña’s, but also on him. 

“Hey,” Peña shook you back awake. “Breakfast is ready.”

You placed your hand over his and nodded. “Okay.”

Neither of you said anything when you ate, just listened to the news that passed over the speakers of the TV. 

“Who taught you to cook?” You asked, turning to look at him as he drove you both to work. 

“My dad. My mom helped, but dad was the one who burnt less stuff.”

After eating, you’d run to your apartment to get a fresh change of clothes and run a brush through your hair, only to be greeted by your husband at the bottom of the stairs. “I’ll drive us to work.”

So, now you were driving to work with Javi before hopping out of his car and being led with a warm hand at the bottom of your back through the hallways of work before you both finally reached your desks. 

And for the first time in weeks, you finally had the energy to get through your work day. And so did Javi. 

Although things started to change when you got a surprise visit from your mother.

You’d been working for weeks on the same case and in between all of the case work, the fake marriage and the few months that followed, you’d forgotten to write to your mother. 

It was her one agreement with you moving to Columbia. She knew there was nothing she could do to stop you – it was your job and you were good at it, plus, despite all of the gear grinding you had to do every now and again, you loved it. But knowing she didn’t accept your decision to work as DEA in Columbia would have slowly killed you – and her, too. 

Any time she called, you’d either been dead asleep – either at yours or Javi’s – or at work. So, she took the notion to come and see you. 

So when you walked down the hall towards your office and heard your mother’s voice ask you a question, you felt your entire body crash to a screaming halt before realising what and why she was asking. 

“You’re married?” 

“Mom.”

Your mom called your full name and walked towards you. “What this lovely woman just told me better not be true, or else that means I’ve missed my daughter’s wedding.”

You tried your best to remain calm and relaxed. Two emotions you were desperately clinging onto for dear life. “She tells me his name is Javier Pen…”

For a moment, she looked back to the secretary who nodded and whispered his name again for your mother to repeat with full confidence to you. “Javier Peña.”

“Mom, maybe it’s best we-”

Then the secretary spoke up in excitement. “Oh, there he is. Javi!”

Looking up from his own case file, about to turn down the hallway, he found who was calling him before seeing who was standing in front of them. You and, from what he could guess, your mother. 

Shit. Your mother? No. She was back in the States. Maybe he’d remembered her face wrong from the picture behind your desk. 

Walking over, Javi’s hand came to your lower back before he quickly brushed a kiss against your cheek. “Cariño, you okay?”

You tried to remain calm as you said the next sentence. “Javi, this is my mother. Mom, this is my..husband..Javi.”

Then something you hadn’t expected to happen, happened. 

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Mrs Y/l/n. Y/n’s told me a lot about you.”

“I wish I could say the same.” But she still shook his hand and allowed him to press a light kiss to the back of it. 

Carefully, Javi stepped back and pulled you closer towards him, your mother’s eyes never once stopping to not examine the couple that stood in front of her. 

Javi nodded. “We are sorry about that. But, maybe we can make it up to you.”

You looked at Javi a little panicked. But your mother was already interested. “Oh?”

“I’m guessing you’re staying here for a few days? Come and stay with us. I can make us dinner and we can all get to know each other.”

Then your mom smiled. Apparently Javi already had her approval. “Well…I think that would be lovely. But don’t think either of you are getting off lightly. I missed my daughter’s wedding that I didn’t even know about.”

“Honey, give your mother our address, I’ll ask-”

She shook her head. “No, no. You all seem busy. I can take myself there. And I’d like to see what’s around the market stalls. Is there anything I can bring for dinner?”

Javi shook his head. “No, not at all.”

You smiled. “He’s got it covered, mom. Just bring yourself.”

“Alright then. Well, I look forward to seeing you both for dinner.”

In the space of five minutes you’d all said your goodbye’s and you had ever so sweetly pulled your husband towards your office before closing the door and blinds and turning back to your partner. 

“What the hell are you thinking?”

Javi shrugged. “She’s come down here to see you. We might as well make the effort.”

“We? Javi. We don’t live together. She’s gonna take one look around my apartment and realise I still live there. She’s gonna take one more look at my face and realise everything that’s happened is a complete sham and then she’s gonna parade it around town that I’m still single. She won’t mean it harshly, but she will.”

“So, we don’t tell her and just say we haven’t had a chance to move things since getting married. We’ll be okay.”

You let out a panicked laugh before you started pacing. “I knew this was a bad idea. It’s bad enough we’re lying to people here.”

“You’re the one that started it before I got roped in.”

“Hey! You roped yourself into this. You were the one that said you were my husband.”

“Would you have preferred for Agent Dickbag to keep pushing?!”

You took a breath. “Javi…I don’t know if I can lie to her. What…what do I tell my family when they find out? This was just meant to keep people like Agent Dickbag away…”

Reading the panic all over your body, Javi stood and walked towards you until you were wrapped in his arms. “Hey, it’ll be okay. We’ll keep the secret up long enough to make sure nobody else finds out the truth, and then you can just say we rushed into things. We got a quick divorce and moved on, civilly.”

“I think you missed your calling in Acting.” You told him. “I think my mom already has your seal of approval.”

“Really?” He pulled back a little and smiled. “That’s a first.”

“We’ll be okay?”

He nodded. “We’ll be okay.”

And you believed him. 

Because it was true. 

In the space of about fifteen minutes, you and Javi managed to move some things from your apartment, into his to make it seem more…homely. Like two people actually lived there. Especially since your mom would be living in your apartment for the next couple of days until she flew back home to the rest of your family. 

“Will she really check the bedroom?” Javi called from the kitchen. 

You’d moved some things to the second bedside table. One or two books, a couple of hair-ties, plasters, “stray” pens. You tried your best to make it look believable as possible. 

“You don’t know her like I do. This woman is Jessica Fletcher. Unsuspecting to the world, but in fact sees everything. Trust me, you do not want to end up in interrogation with my mother. Happened to a perp once. She came in to visit my dad but he was wrangling a couple of the officers so she walked around, found the perp sitting in holding and she actually got a confession out of him. Cops had been trying all day and nothing. A five minute conversation with my mother and they got a full written confession out of him.”

Javi gave a low whistle. “Wow.”

“Yeah. So, trust me, what I’m doing? It’s gonna, hopefully, save us some grief.”

Javi was still cooking by the time your mom knocked on his door and you brought her inside. Immediately her eyes scanned the place picking up on the pictures, books and music. 

“It smells delicious.”

“He’s a good cook.”

And for the first couple of minutes everything ran smoothly. Your mother did everything you’d expected her to do. She even passed Javi in the kitchen to look into your bedroom. 

“She really did it.” Javi mouthed. 

“Told you so,” you mouthed back. 

“Mom, do you wanna come and sit down? I can get you a drink.”

“I’ll have a soda if you have it, please.”

You got your mom a soda and poured it into a glass with ice, handing it to her as she stood still examining your home. 

“So, how is he in bed?” She whispered a little too loud to you. 

You felt yourself go bright red. Redder still when you heard Javi chuckle from the kitchen. “Mom!”

“What? I’m allowed to ask my daughter these questions. I need to know you’re being satisfied in every aspect of your marriage.”

You groaned and covered your eyes. “Mom.”

“You’re being careful? Using condoms? You know pulling out doesn’t work as birth control.”

You could have died. “Mom, please. Stop.”

Javi let out a small laugh as he walked from the kitchen and handed you a drink. “Mrs Y/l/n, if you really want to know-”

“Oh no. No, Javi, please. Please don’t encourage her.”

“We’re being safe. Having a family right now probably wouldn’t be the best move for either of us.”

Your mother just graced him with a soft smile. “Well, I’m glad to hear it.”

“I’m not,” you groaned a little. “Can we please change the conversation?”

“You know, she’s always been like this.” Your mom told Javi who only seemed to revel in your terror. 

“Really? This isn’t a new thing?”

“No,” you mom told him. “She went just as red when I gave her the birds and the bees talk.”

“That’s because you decided to tell me in the middle of my middle school hallway during a Parent’s Evening.”

“And when I took her to the doctors to get her on the pill.”

You covered your face. “I’m in hell.”

Javi’s hand reached for your shoulder and shook you lightly as he sat on the arm of the chair beside you. You leaned into him. 

“I’d finally got it out of her that she’d had sex and next-”

“And next thing I’m being wrangled into an office chair with the doctor having my mother shout from the rooftops her daughter was no longer a virgin.”

Your mom gasped. “It wasn’t like that,”

You leaned into your husband who’d just let out a small laugh. “Please make it stop.”

“Okay, I’ll drop it.”

“Thank you.”

“But I’m glad to know you’re being satisfied. Your face tells me more than you think.”

“Okay!” You stood up quickly and tried to run away, only to feel Javi’s hand reach out and pull you back, spinning you to stand by him. From the light red in his cheeks, he felt a little embarrassed, too, but he seemed to handle it a lot better than you. 

He was chuckling. “Don’t think you’re able to run from this. I wanna know more about you from your mom.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to be here for it.” You tried to make a break for it again, but Javi caught you and for a moment, the rest of the room seemed to slowly disappear from sight as you found yourself trapped in his hands and arms, and his gaze on you, just as yours was on his. And for a moment, you wondered what it would be like if you kissed him. 

Little did you know, he’d been thinking the exact same thing. 

Then a timer went off. 

“That’ll be the food.” Javi kissed a quick peck to your temple before standing and walking towards the kitchen, leaving your gaze to trail after him. 

“You really do love each other,” your mom pointed out from her spot on the sofa. “I can see why you got married. You both need to tell me what your wedding was like!”

And so you did over dinner. With the added linger of whatever had happened when he’d pulled you closer to him. 

You caught Javi looking at you a few times, and subsequently, he’d caught you, too. And, without rehearsal, you’d both managed to bullshit your way through explaining why you’d both decided to get married so quickly. 

From you and Javi, your mother had learned you’d both met when you started in Columbia and you were both ‘friends’ for a while. Not much had to be lied about in that department. Javi’s reputation. Your “ability” to make every man that asked you out believe you were taken. How you’d worked together for a long time before becoming actual friends. Then the lies started…right?

About how you and Javi made a true friendship of sorts over the late nights working, swapping smaller stories until something changed. 

“It was like…my heart had stopped and rebooted itself. Suddenly, everything felt like it had shifted and changed somehow.” Peña explained to your mom. “Nothing had ever been more…clearer and more daunting than ever.”

Then Javi looked at you, and you found a mirrored expression. Sadness? Confusion? Desperation? Fear? Realisation? You didn’t know what to call it, but whatever it was, you felt it. For some unknown reason, everything he’d just said rang true in your ears, your head and even your heart. 

Nothing had ever been more clearer and more daunting than ever.

By the time your mom decided she was ready for bed, you were already fast asleep against Javi. At some point in the evening when he’d sat beside you, he’d slung his arm behind you and between the warmth and familiarity of him, you’d let yourself truly relax. 

“I’ll walk you up.”

Your mom shook her head as Javi led her towards the door. “I know my way and you’re both tired. I’ll be okay. Get her to bed.”

Javi looked back at you for a moment and smiled.

“You really do love her.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement. Your mom smiled at her supposed son-in-law. “I understand why she fell for you, but I hope you know, just because you’re the first one of her boyfriends, well, husband now. But just because you’re the first I approve of, doesn’t mean I won’t be judging you. You look after her, and you look after her well. Love her everyday. It’s not every day someone gets to spend the rest of their lives with my daughter. I hope you see that as a privilege.”

Javi nodded. “Yes, ma’am, I do.”

Javi was telling the truth and your mom nodded. “Good. And thank you for dinner. Sleep well.”

“You, too, Mrs Y/l/n.”

Javi waited until he heard your apartment door lock before he shut his own, locked it and kicked off his shoes.

His socks padding his footsteps as he walked back to you, he was careful to pick you up before carrying you to bed and covering you up. You were still fast asleep by the time he climbed into bed beside you, but either way, you naturally rolled towards the slight dip in the bed before reaching out for him like you did almost every time he’d carried you to his bed because you’d fallen asleep in his apartment. 

The only times he didn’t was when he fell asleep with you and woke up as the sun peeked through his blinds in his living room. 

With a contented sigh, you slipped into a dreamless sleep beside him and for a few minutes, he laid awake, listening to your breathing. Then he let his mind slip back through the evening. If the funny feeling in his stomach and chest wasn’t what he hoped it was, but rather was what he suspected it to be, then he would have to soak up your actions as a married couple over the next couple of days before everything went back to semi-normal. 

Because if he was right, and he was growing feelings for you, then these days would have to be enough. Your marriage with him and his marriage to you was meant to be for appearances, only. Nothing real was meant to come out of it, was it? 

Because the feeling in his chest as he looked down at you, asleep by his side and in his arms…that feeling sure felt real. 

Waking up in the morning, you felt more comfortable than usual. No creaky mattress spring giving you a sneak attack from beneath your sofa and into your back, no blinding light coming through curtains you’d forgotten to shut, no cold side to your bed as you turned over. 

Instead, you felt warm. You found warmth. 

Asleep on his front but his arm still across you, you found Javi. Fast asleep, seeming as though not even a gunshot would wake him. 

And rather than jump out of bed or rollaway like you usually would when you found yourself in this position with any man, or even him going off the last couple of months. 

You’d found yourself falling asleep countless times at Javi’s and the majority of the time, you woke up in his bed. 

But waking that morning, especially after the night before, had something feeling different. So you took your time. 

For the first time you…studied him. 

You’d found yourself doing it more and more in recent months. How he sat in a chair, the look on his face when he was annoyed, amused, sometimes even scared. 

And for the first time, maybe ever. He looked…

Peaceful. 

As if it was a Sunday morning and neither of you had to get up for work. Like when he’d wake, you’d both spend the morning in bed before relaxing in your home. 

And for a moment, you let yourself dream about that life. A life where there was no fear of maybe never coming home. A life where you could both…be peaceful. Happy. 

Together, maybe?

After a few moments, you felt a gentle touch against your cheek, and slowly opening your eyes, you found Javi’s hand cupping your cheek, his fingers brushing soft patterns into your skin. 

“Cariño…”

You smiled, finding comfort in the common nickname. “Hey.”

“You been awake long?”

You shook your head, softly. “Not long.”

“Good.” Javi then leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “Come here.”

Granting yourself permission to do as he said, Javi rolled over onto his back and pulled you into his side before he decided to ultimately face you. 

Down your back, he traced a singular line back and forth as you both synced calming breaths and listened to the comfortable silence of the room. 

“We could call in sick.” Javi said after ten minutes. “We’ve built up enough time to take the day off. You could show your mom ‘round.”

“We can’t,” you pointed out. “What about the case?”

“The case will still be there tomorrow. And besides, if something changes, they’ll call us in-”

Then you both heard the front door lock open. 

“Javi-”

Pressing a finger to his lips, he sat up and so did you. Quietly, he moved over towards his bedside table and pulled out his gun before checking the bullets. 

You both heard the door open and just as Javi was about to leap out of bed, you both heard your mother’s voice. 

“Y/n? Javier? You two sleepy heads awake yet?!”

You let out a huge sigh of relief and sat back against Javi’s headboard. “Jesus Christ.”

“Your mom has a key?” Javi put his gun back and closed the draw as he looked back at you. 

“I told you. Jessica Fletcher.” Then you called out to her. “Mom! We’re in here.”

Letting out a breath, Javi sat himself back beside you just as your mom walked into your bedroom. “Mom, you can’t just break in,” you told her, tiredly. 

“I didn’t break in. I had a key.”

“Both of us could have shot you.”

Your mom looked over both of you and gave a coy smile. “Then it’s a good thing I called out then. You both look…well rested.”

It was too early to even pretend what she thought had happened, had happened. So, tearing your eyes from Javi, you looked to your mom. “Why are you here?”

“Because I have made breakfast for both of you since Javi cooked us such a wonderful dinner last night.”

“Mrs Y/l/n, you really didn’t-”

“Hush now. I was happy to do it. Now, chop chop.” Your mom clapped her hands. “There’s plenty of time for this,” she gestured to you, Javi and the bed, “later. Come on. Before the day is gone.”

And as she walked out, you felt yourself collapse into Javi’s sheets, already feeling your face go hot. 

“She really doesn’t hold back, does she?”

“No.” Your voice was muffled through the sheets. 

Ultimately, Javi convinced you to take the day off with him and after a homemade breakfast, yet another awkward conversation surrounding love-making in the shower – to which Javi nearly choked on his toast. Both you and Javi had showered (separately) before getting changed and deciding to show your mom around the different places in town. 

And despite the stories shared by your mother; thankfully not all of them made you want a hole in the ground to open up the floor. 

You also found spending the day with Javi, outside of work talk, to be more than pleasurable. With his hand in yours, or his arm around you, holding your own across your stomach, you’d both walked side by side for most of the day. He told your mom some things about Columbia even you didn’t know before, easily sharing some stories of his own childhood when your mom asked. 

And you felt…glad, maybe? Like for the first time since moving to Columbia you were home. And it wasn’t just because your mom was there, but rather because of the person who stuck by your side all day, letting you see behind the personal walls he had up at work. The ones that, if you didn’t look closely, you wouldn’t know were even there. 

Yet, despite the entire day feeling like one giant butterfly in your stomach at every touch, look  and graze you felt from Javi, nothing made it feel like the tornado it was when your mom asked if she could film your ‘first dance’. 

Dinner had been long over and the TV had shut down. In the background, a few different records played until one came on and your mother gasped. 

“Oh, please. Please let me see your first dance. I love this song, and I’ve always imagined seeing you dance to it the way me and your dad do.”

From your side, Javi lifted his hand. It was up to you. 

Looking at your mom’s face, you couldn’t say no. So, you nodded and both stood. Javi started the song from the beginning and turned back to face you. In a matter of moments, you were in his arms, your hand in his whilst your other lay on his arm. You could feel his firm hand at the bottom of your back, holding you up steadily. 

Finally, leaning into each other, you could feel his moustache at the shell of your ear. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

That was when you found out Javi could dance. At the very least, much better than you could. He led you around the small section of the floor, your temple’s still touching and for a small moment, you closed your eyes. 

You’d also both forgotten anybody else was in the room other than you two. Breathing, heartbeats, pulse, chemistry. It all became one. 

And just as the song slowed, Javi lifted his head to look at you. It was like there was a new light to you in the fading sunlight. New features he’d never noticed before. The small freckles dotted across your face, probably having surfaced after a day in the sun. The soft streaks of baby hairs framing your face. The arch and bow of your cupid’s bow and lips. The light flush in your cheeks as for a moment, he caught your eyes doing the same thing he was. 

Looking. Gazing. Studying. All to commit it to memory. 

Javier Peña, for as best as he’d known, he’d never been so scared in all of his life. But there was one final thing he wanted to commit to memory, whether it be good or bad. And if he didn’t do it then, he was afraid he never would. So, for the first time with you, he did what he wanted to do because, and he hoped, by the look on your face, you wanted it, too. 

With the final few notes of the song, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your lips. It was firm, steady, strong and then softer. The kind of kiss that you feel long after it’s over. Silence washed over the room as the record came to an end and you and Javi found yourselves looking at each other, only realising you weren’t alone when your mom gasped. 

“Oh, that was just beautiful.” She stopped the recording. “Thank you so much for doing that for me.”

You and Javi seemed to step away from each other despite it being the last thing either of you wanted to do in that moment. It wasn’t long after that your mom decided to go upstairs to bed. And once Javi heard the door lock upstairs, he locked his own and took a moment before turning back around to find you. 

But you were already trying to avoid the conversation that came next. 

Javi took his time. You both needed a moment to find clarity. After the faucet had been running for a few minutes, only to be switched off by you as you washed the plates in the bowl of soapy water, Javi stood at the kitchen door. 

He watched you for a moment, wondering what to say. What just happened? I’m sorry? He didn’t mean for it to…be that way? Did you feel it, too? Did you want it, too? Did he cross a line?

Then he realised he didn’t have to say anything at all. 

You felt him before you heard him walk slowly across the kitchen floor and stand by your side. With a gentle hand guiding your arm, he spun you to face him and in the silence, your faces shared a thousand words between each other. 

Javi brushed your hair from your face before gently cupping your face. It took enough time between each of his movements to let you object if you wanted to. You stepped closer into him. 

Then he kissed you. 

Having dropped the sponge into the sink, you felt yourself tumble against him as your own hands came to pull him closer towards you. Things seemed to move slightly quicker than before. His hands moving down your body to eventually lift you up and move you onto the counter top, his fingers pushing their way through your hair as your own pulled him in by his collar to kiss you once more. 

With your legs wrapping around his waist, securing him against you, you let out a small sigh behind your kiss. Javi only chased those small noises more after you made your first one. 

“J-Javi.” You managed to find your voice in between his kisses. “Wait.”

He stopped, forcing himself to pull his lips from yours. And for a moment, all you could hear was his breathing and your heartbeat. Both rapid. Both unsteady. 

“We…we shouldn’t…”

His hands still tangled in your hair and his forehead against yours, he shook his head in agreement. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

All either of you could do was breathe. Slowly. Trying to catch some form of air that was at least a close equivalent to the others. 

Kissing you was like a lifeline, and without you he was dying. 

His eyes finally gazing into yours, he found your own tracing his face, already reminiscing on the kiss, wanting more. 

Kissing him was like life was finally being pushed back into your lungs, letting you breathe clearly for the first time and without him, nothing was in focus. 

“Fuck it.”

His lips on yours again, he began to devour you and your taste. He could feel your hands pulling him closer to you, like if you’d let go of him, you’d drown. 

He needed you more than he wanted to admit. 

But you didn’t want him to hold back. So leaning away from his kiss for a moment, you made sure he focused on you. 

“Bedroom.”

He was still drunk on your kiss. “Javi, I’m not fucking you on the kitchen counter. Bedroom.”

His lips curved onto a smirk as he pulled you towards the edge and lifted you up. 

“Didn’t anyone tell you we’re married? Cariño, it’s called making love.”

You laughed and so did he before it was muffled out by another kiss. 

By the time morning rolled around, you found yourself wrapped in Javi’s arms, his scent swirling around your senses, locking it into a memory you’d never forget. Even if you wanted to move, you couldn’t. From the arms wrapped around you, to the soreness in your legs, your body was too happily exhausted to move. 

For the next few moments, you watched as he slept peacefully. His mouth parted slightly, simply looking at his mustache made you blush at the memories from barely a few hours previous. Tracing the curves of his face, you leaned over and pressed a light kiss to his cheek. 

His arms twitched around you. “Javi, I need to use the bathroom.”

Still half asleep, he returned the next kiss you pressed to his lips before mumbling; “Come back.”

“I will,” you kissed him once more before climbing out of bed and heading towards the bathroom. 

Whilst in the bathroom, you picked up the long forgotten towels on the floor and picked up the tossed body washes and shampoo bottles from Javi and your haphazard entry into the bathroom after the first two orgasms before the third. 

However, you must have taken too long because as you stood at the bathroom skin, a newly familiar pair of arms made their way from holding your hips, to cradling around your waist. 

You could feel the hair from his moustache as he kissed your bare shoulder, making his way towards your neck where you leaned back against his chest and placed a hand behind his own neck to hold you steady. 

“Javi.”

One of his hands slowly made its way under your top before running his fingers from the top of your chest, across your breast and down below the waistband of your shorts. 

“I missed you.” His tongue dampened the graze of his teeth against your neck. 

“Javi.”

“Is this okay, baby?”

You bit your lip, your hips bucking against his fingers, chasing the pressure he was beginning to swirl around your clit. You hummed a response. 

“I need your words, baby. Is this okay? Do you want this? Because I can stop.”

You shook your head quickly and wrapped your hand around his wrist before he pulled away any further. “No. Don’t stop.”

“Whatever you say, baby.”

With his fingers circling your clit and his mouth having free range of your neck, you felt your knees grow weak. “Want me to stop?”

Again, you shook your head. “I need…I need more, Javi.”

“How many, baby?”

“Two, ohh…” Your mouth opened and you threw your head back against his shoulder, reveling in his fingers slipping inside your cunt and his thumb applied pressure to your clit. Then you heard him chuckle. 

“Asshole.”

“You fucking love it, baby.”

You did. You really did. It wasn’t long before Javi could feel your walls pulsing against his fingers, growing tighter for him. And his dick hadn’t even left his pants yet. 

“You’re so fucking wet, cariño. This for me?”

You found the strength to nod. “Just for you, Javi baby.”

But whatever strength or control you had left disappeared as the wave began to crash over you and you chased Javi’s fingers as they pumped deeper and faster inside of you. “Ride ‘em, baby. Take what you want.”

You moaned his name, almost chanting it as you came over his fingers. “Fuck,” Javi growled. “You’re so fucking hot when you come.”

Letting out a breathy laugh, you felt the ache in your legs, still leaning against Javi. 

“Then maybe you should do it again.”

Sharing a look with Javi, he smirked before biting down on your bottom lip, then kissing it better. Pulling his fingers from inside of you, he slowly spun you around by your hips until you faced him. Once he’d tasted everything he could from your mouth, he teasingly made his way across your jaw, down the length of your neck, under your clothing before pulling your soaked shorts down your legs, leaving your glistening and sensitive cunt for him to see. 

Then he tasted the rest of you. 

Pushing you onto the edge of the sink counter, you white-knuckled the edges in fear of gripping his hair too tight to pull him closer to where you needed him. 

You could feel the burn of his moustache against your inner thighs, panty-line before finally his tongue circled your already sensitive clit. 

“Fuck, Javi.”

“You like that, baby?”

You nodded, “Fuck. Yeah.”

“Want more?”

“Y…yes. Javi, please.” Your hips bucked as you chased the feeling of his tongue licking your pussy. “Fuck, Javi.” You let out a gasp as his tongue dipped inside of you for a moment. “Fuck, right…right there.” With one of your hands tangled in his hair, you pushed him closer in order to taste all of you. 

And just as you leaned back to grant him more access, he pulled back. You whimpered, wanting him back. “Touch yourself.” 

“Javi-”

“I want to see how long you can hold it before I fuck you. Touch yourself.”

So you did. All the while watching him take his sweet time watching you as he pulled down his own underwear and pulled a condom on, pumping himself a couple of times before finally settling closer to you. 

“I want to watch you cum again.” And so he did. 

Filling you with his dick, inch by inch, he felt you stretch around him, swearing as you took him in. And then he took his time with you. Reveling in every needy buck of your hips, chasing his dick before he couldn’t hold back anymore. He needed you just as much as you were begging for him. 

Moaning his name over and over as your orgasm hit you, Javi watched as you came over his dick, him finishing not long after you did. 

Sweaty and covered in sex, Javi pushed the fallen hair from your face and kissed your lips after the silence had settled away from heavy breathing and racing hearts. “We should get cleaned up.”

Pulling his cock from inside of you, he disposed of the condom before walking towards the shower and turning it on. And over the next forty minutes, Javi’s hands were all over your naked body before his fingers tugged at your hair as the tiles of the floor made indents in your knees. By the time you’d both finished, gotten washed and finally dressed, Javi was changing the sheets as you placed the ones from the night before inside his washer. 

For the rest of the day, Javi rarely left your side.

Going back out to the markets with your mom, his hands were constantly finding ways to touch you. His hand pinching onto the skirt of your summer dress, his fingers grazing against your hip and lower back as he changed from standing on one side of you to the other. Holding your hand around you, his arm across your shoulders, his lips in your hair, on the shell of your ear as he talked to you. And when you’d stopped inside a cafe, he sat next to you, his arm across the back of your chair which practically was sitting in between his legs as his body was constantly turned towards you. 

And when you’d both finally gotten home, your mom saying she was going for a nap, the moment Javi’s door shut, the bags were dropped and your back was against the wall of his hallway, his lips on yours. “I’ve been wanting to do that all day.”

“So have I.”

Then a question fell from your lips. “How are we going to keep this up? At work, I mean.”

“They already think we’re married.” He kissed your neck. 

“I’m being serious, Javi.”

“So am I.”

“Javi, Messina already warned us what would happen if she ever caught us. And that was before we were even…”  A couple? Fucking? Dating? Married?

Javi smiled. “So we keep it a secret.”

“Says the guy who can’t keep his hands off me for more than two seconds. You’ll never be able to keep it a secret.”

“Says the woman whose been eye-fucking me all day. Are you sure you can keep a secret?”

“I can keep a secret.” Then Javi noticed your coy smile. “In fact, I’ve been keeping one all day.”

Taking his hand in yours, you pressed his hand to the dip of your hips. He couldn’t feel anything but fabric. Then it hit him. With his chest flaring and his dick hardening, he stepped closer towards you. 

“Mrs Peña…have you been naked under that dress all day?”

You bit your lip. “Why don’t you find out for yourself?”

His eyes flicking to the hem of your dress, he looked back up at you before slowly dragging the fabric of its skirt up and bunching it in his hand until he could slip his hand under it. And when he was met with bare skin, he swore. 

“Fuck.”

“I’ve been hoping you’d fuck me all day,” you admitted. “I wanted to be ready.”

“Since you walked out of that fucking bedroom in this dress…I’ve wanted to fuck you in it.”

Pulling him closer to you, your voice turned into a low whisper. “Then you better get on with it, Agent Peña. Before I do it myself.”

He didn’t have to be told twice. Capturing your lips on his, his finger coaxed at your pussy, already feeling your wetness build for him. As his fingers began to curl inside of you, you let out a moan before your fingers deftly unbuckled his belt and jeans. Javi let out a small whimper as your fingers stroked down his cock, wiping the pre-cum away with your thumb before finally pumping him a few times. 

“Take it easy, baby. Otherwise I’m not gonna- fuck.”

With one hand, Javi picked you up where you stood, his fingers digging into your ass before he guided his tip in. Letting out a moan by his ear, you told him to start moving. 

“Fill me up, baby.” 

And he did. 

Fucking you against the wall in his hallway, Javi pulled the top of your summer dress down and began leaving his mark across your collarbone and down the bow of your breast, all the while his cock pumped in and out of you before filling you up with him cum. 

“That’s it baby,” Javi told you as you screamed his name as you rode his dick. Then he watched you come. He’d never get sick of that sight. It seemed to get hotter each time. You begging him for more, your moans, his name falling from your lips as he makes you unravel completely. 

But he wasn’t done with you yet. Pulling out from you, he moved you both down the hallway and towards the sofa where he made you come again before moving into the kitchen where he finally fucked you senseless on the kitchen counter. 

Both of you wished it could have continued like that forever, but sadly after your shower, both you and Javi were interrupted by the jingle of keys in the door as your mom let herself in before you and Javi could continue your heavy make-out session on the sofa. 

But that was something you both had to get used to. 

Interruptions. 

From people banging on the copier room door thinking it was jammed, to people walking back into the office after their lunch breaks. But despite the ever growing need to constantly be touching him, or him touching you, you’d both found subtler ways to show how much you not only wanted each other, but also needed each other. 

From the smaller touches when he always found an excuse to stand beside you, to the ever longing looks you both gave to each other as the other one walked away from the desks. There were crappy cups of coffee always being poured, lunches being made and shared, blankets being used to cover up the one that fell asleep first, the knowing looks when a case load became too much, the soft moments spent after a long day of work just laying together on the sofa watching crappy TV and falling asleep, dancing to slower records on down-days, quick kisses goodbye during lunch or during a stakeout for cases, jealous and warning glares being given to those who tried to flirt with the other, and finally slow Sunday mornings that were spent inside the apartment, neither of you leaving unless for a dire emergency. 

And somewhere between all of that, you and Javi had taken a flight to your home where your family and his watched as you both swore actual wedding vows to each other; your wedding party not realising it was the first time for both of you. 

Maybe it had taken a while for you both to come together, and maybe it wasn’t the most conventional of get-togethers. But it was yours and Javi’s story. One that, the more you thought about it, started off with those softer moments. One that always had, and always would, contain those smaller touches and simple gestures. 

[talaok]

Acting Normal

Pairing: Javier Peña x fem!reader

Summary: Javi’s been thinking about that night every minute of every day, while you're acting like it never even happened, and if he doesn't do something about it, he's gonna lose his mind.

warnings: smut| fingering, protected p in v sex, dirty talk, javi being a simp, sex in the workplace, (it's not public but there's a possibility of getting caught)

a/n: I already know what to write for part 3, this couple is my new obsession lol

This is a part 2 to this story, but it can be read alone

Javi

This was really important stuff

He was really supposed to be listening

He was paid to listen to it,

that's what he kept repeating himself,

and yet- yet if someone asked him to repeat whatever Carillo was saying, he couldn't have spit out one singular word.

But it wasn't his fault, not really.

You must have been doing it on purpose, there was no way you were doing all that just accidentally.

Your lips were wrapped around the lollipop in a way that left nothing to the imagination- he could feel those lips on him, he knew how soft and sweet they were from kissing them, but around him... oh they would feel even sweeter, he was sure-

"If you're not gonna listen to me then why am I even here?"

It took Javier much too long to realize what Carillo had said

"I'm listening" he stated with enough confidence to fool anyone- except he was talking to one of the few people that could see right through his bullshit.

"I'm surprised you haven't done it yet" the Colonel shook his head, blowing out a cloud of smoke "I thought she would have given in by now"

"I don't know what you're talking about"

Carillo couldn't help but laugh.

"You've been obsessed with her since she first arrived"

Javier hadn't even noticed that his gaze was back on you... or that his colleague had spoken again.

"yeah," Carillo chuckled, patting Javi's back "I'll just talk to Murphy"

And that was that, Carillo was gone, and Peña was left at a desk at the corner of the room, staring at you with the intensity with which a lion watches a gazelle.

He didn't know what the fuck to do.

To be completely honest with himself, he'd made a fucking mess.

He'd always been attracted to you, I mean there's not much of you that any man could find not hot, and sure, he'd spent about a year flirting with you as you rolled your eyes at him... but that's just how he was- he never thought it'd ever actually happen- and now...

Now he was fucked

You seemed so incredibly normal around him, like that night a week ago had been just a perfect dream, while him- fuck he couldn't even look at you without picturing how perfect you looked from between your tighs.

He'd thought he could manage to just do it that one time, to get it out of his system... what a stupid fucking bastard- he'd only made everything ten times worse.

And the worst part was that you didn't seem affected by it, not even a little bit- like now, there you were, looking all concentrated and everything, your brows furrowed, your bare legs crossed, one of them swinging ever so often, and your lips... your lips wrapped around the candy were an image sent straight from heaven.

Fuck- he was half fucking hard just by looking at you.

He needed to do something- now- or he was gonna go fucking crazy.

__ __ __

"can I have a talk with you for a moment?"

He was leaning over your desk, not doing a great job of masking his desire.

You, on the other hand, hadn't even looked up from the paper before you.

"what's up?"

what's up?

He'd made you squirt on your boss' desk for fuck's sake, and you tell him what's up??

"Just something I think you could help me out with, in the evidence room"

"now?" you winced, finally looking at him

"Yeah now"

__ __ __

"so what is it? did they misplace a file again-"

"How are you acting so normal?"

A gasp fled your mouth as you turned around and found him but an inch from you

"Jesus" you breathed "what are you talking about?"

"and who even eats lollipops past the age of five?"

He took a step closer and you took a step back, only for your back to hit the wall.

He'd cornered you.

"what is going on with you?" you hissed, only for him to take another slow step, and place his hand on the wall, right next to your head

"you, that's what's going on with me" his breath was fanning over your mouth, images of last week's night flashing both your minds "I've had the best sex of my life with you, and you're acting like it was just another Tuesday night"

"I-"

"I can still taste you on my tongue, I can still feel you around me, and you look at me like I'm nothing more than a fucking colleague y/n"

"Javier-"

"And then" he chuckled darkly, interrupting you once again "and then you have the nerve to suck on a fucking lollipop right in front me-"

A soft laugh couldn't help but bubble up your throat at that.

"Did that seriously... turn you on?"

"So what if it did?" he purred, his left hand finding your waist and forcing you off the wall and flush against him, against the blatant proof of his arousal.

You gasped, your hands clutching the shirt covering his chest.

"you're worse than a hormonal teenager"

His eyes sparked with malice as he bent down, his mouth skimming your mouth and cheeks, leaving shivers in his passage, until he pressed his lips right below your ear.

"A hormonal teen that made you squirt for the first time in your life"

"Javier-" your voice had already reduced to a thread of a whimper.

Fuck him and his irresistible sex appeal.

He was right, no one had ever made you feel as good as he had, and as much as he thought you weren't affected by that knowledge, he'd be shocked to find out how difficult it proved not to squirm every time he merely looked at you.

Yes, of course you were constantly thinking about that night too.

"Tell me you don't think about it"

He was like a mind reader

You stayed silent, conscious that any response you could give would inevitably give you away.

"That's what I thought" A snicker rumbled from his chest, his hand moving from your waist to slide underneath the hem of your skirt.

You hummed, your brain only half functioning as he continued to trail hot wet kisses down your throat.

"W-what are you doing?" you tried to speak normally without success.

"what does it look like I'm doing?" he smirked, his hand now fully cupping your clothed core, making you whine "What I've been thinking of doing for a whole damn week- so I don't lose my mind"

Two of his fingers were circling the wet spot on your panties when a phone rang from the other room, making your eyes snap open.

What the fuck were you doing?

You were at work- anyone could come in at any moment.

"Javier wait," you said, finally getting your voice back to normal.

"what is it, sweetheart?" from the way his eyes were still a thousand shades darker and blatantly staring at your mouth you could have guessed the danger of being caught didn't trouble him one bit.

"We can't"

He groaned frustratedly then, his head falling between your neck and shoulder

"why not sweetheart?"

"are you serious?" a quick laugh bubbled up your throat "we're at work"

"so?"

"so?" you parroted, only your voice was heightening with exasperation "so anyone could catch us at any given moment"

A soft smirk pulled at his lips, the hand that was still on your wall going to your waist to get you flush against him

"Are you ashamed of me sweetheart?" he teased

"Well, to be completely honest having sex with the biggest slut in Columbia isn't exactly my highest moment"

He feigned a gasp, his hot breath fanning over your own parted mouth

"Me? A slut?"

"yeah, you" You couldn't fight the smile pulling at your lips.

There he was, doing it again- making all your common sense fly out the window with his godforsaken charm.

"c'mon baby, I'll be quick"

And although you didn't want to, you could see yourself starting to consider his proposal.

"that's supposed to convince me?" you arched a brow, an amused smile pulling at your lips

"What, you think I can't make you come quickly?" he purred, his hand going to your ass in a swift move to grab at it.

You bit down a whine "Well I don't know"

"tell me you don't want it" he teased, the fingers on your core starting a torturous path up and down your still-clothed, but unbelievably drenched, slit "That you don't want this"

His fingers had trespassed your panties and had now found your raw skin, making you gasp

"anyone could come in us, including Messina" you added breathlessly

"I locked the door" he promised, his forehead on yours as his ring and middle finger gently found their way inside of you.

"a-and what if someone needs to get in?" you tried your best not to moan, but the way he curled his fingers made it so very fucking difficult

"then we'll tell them to fuck off" he murmured, his mouth now touching yours, but still not kissing you.

"If we get caught I'm gonna kill you, we clear?"

"yes ma'am" he smirked, his breath mixing with yours

"now- may I kiss you, baby?"

You rolled your eyes before answering "Yes, you may"

And just like that, he was devouring you, his lips crashing with yours and his tongue sliding into your mouth to explore every inch of it, gaining dominance on your own in a matter of seconds.

"fuck I missed this" he groaned, his fingers suddenly speeding up and robbing you of all ability to tease him about his words "these fucking lips are gonna be the death of me"

Your mouth was open as you desperately tried to get oxygen to your lungs, but he didn't care, he took your bottom lip into his mouth and started sucking, his fingers fastening their pace as the filthy sound of your wetness bounced off the walls of the room.

"tell me you thought about it too" he growled, his palm making contact with your clit and forcing you to gasp as your hips started grinding onto it, onto his hand, sparks of pleasure staining your vision. "tell me I'm not the only crazy one baby"

You bit your lip to stifle a moan as you felt yourself grow closer to a release.

"shit- you look so fucking hot when you're about to come"

"I-" your eyes were squeezed shut, but you could feel the heat of his stare on you, the way his eyes never left you, not even as he kissed your neck, the soft stubble of his mustache tickling your skin "I've thought about it too javi"

The satisfied groan he let out told you just about everything you needed to know.

"When?" he asked, his voice hoarse, his fingers relentless

"A-always" you whimpered, "e-everytime I look at you"

shit- maybe you shouldn't have said that

"yeah?" a wolfish grin tugged at his lips "You think about me? about my cock? my fingers? my tongue?"

You mewled at his words, at the memory they brought with them, at how fucking good he was making you feel-

"J-Javi please"

"what?" he breathed, his mouth on yours again, your hips grinding shamelessly onto his hand "You're gonna come baby, 's that it?"

"y-yeah- fuck- I-"

he knew the signs by now, he knew those desperate breathless sounds you made just as you reached your peak- and god did he fucking love them

"come for me- come baby" he murmured, his lips crushing with yours to stifle your moans just as your walls spasmed around his digits- wave after wave of pleasure coursing through your body.

Oh how he loved seeing the strong fiery woman he saw every day come apart beneath him, all your walls crumbling down 'till there was just pure lust and pleasure beneath your eyes, 'till your body went limp and clung to him for support.

"fuck" you breathed your eyes finally opening again, only to find that his had never left yours. "I-" you gulped, but his lips were on yours again, his hands holding your face on each side, his fingers now out of you.

"w-we should get back," you said, mostly trying to remind yourself, of where you really were, of what you were really doing... but it was all so difficult when he was looking at you like that- when you could feel his hard cock straining against his jeans- the same one that had felt so fucking good inside of you.

"we should" he agreed, although a twisted grin played on his lips.

he was already kissing you again, exploring you again, and in no time you found yourself caged between him and a shelf filled with boxes of evidence, your legs wrapped around his waist and your arms around his neck.

Damn him

"People are gonna start wondering where we are"

"we're here... looking at evidence," he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world, his hips grinding onto you, his mouth on the corner of your lips.

"fuck- fine," you murmured, the need for him stronger than anything at this point, even than the fear of getting fired.

He didn't waste a second- his dick was out in a heartbeat, and your panties were pulled to the side before you had even time to breathe.

His tip, his red, glistening tip found your entrance, making you gasp.

"c-condom" you suddenly remembered, your voice so feeble it was almost inaudible "Please tell me you've got a condom"

"fuck- you're right" he muttered, frustration tracing his tone "I should have one in my wallet"

Of course he had one in his wallet

His left hand reached into his back pocket, finding his wallet and taking the condom out of it as quickly as he could, throwing the wallet somewhere to the side.

You were supporting yourself all on your own as he rolled the condom onto his dick, which might sound easy... but seeing the state of your leg it really was a miracle.

It was all so fast, he seemed desperate as he guided his tip to your entrance, as he gripped your waist and kissed your lips while entering you.

He was so fucking big, definitely the biggest one you'd ever encountered, and not only that... but he fucking knew how to use it too.

It was impossible not to moan, and for him, it was impossible not to groan- let's just say the possibility of getting caught wasn't first on the list of things in your mind at the moment.

"fuckfuckfuck" you whimpered, letting out a soft cry when he finally bottomed out

"Jesus Christ you feel fucking perfect" he growled, his eyes on yours, his hands gripping your waist as he tried his best to give you a moment to adjust and not start to fuck you like an animal right away.

"J-Javi"

And that, that little plead in your voice was all he needed to hear.

There was no way the sound of your skin slapping with his couldn't be heard from outside.

He felt so fucking good- criminally so.

"oh my g-" you had to bite down on something, and the little sliver of skin his shirt didn't cover right where his shoulder met his neck seemed much too perfect for your need.

He groaned, the bastard fucking groaned in pleasure as your teeth sank down into his skin, and you swore to god you could have come from that sound alone.

Your hands were laced between his neck, fingers taking hold of whatever hair you could grab, as he thrust up into you like a man starved, and you did all you could to meet his movements with the same urgency.

It had only been a week, and yet it felt like it'd been an eternity- a torturous, awful eternity of daying yourself of this.

"been thinking about this every fucking minute this week" his voice was breathy, hoarse, as he whispered to your ear "about this perfect fucking pussy of yours- about your mouth, about how- Fuck me-" his own growl interrupted him, your walls were squeezing him much too fucking tight "how good you taste, how hot you look when I'm eating you out- about this fucking perfect body of yours" he purred "Jesus christ you make me lose my mind"

You couldn't help but moan, moan at his words, at his pace, at the way his touch sent sparks flying in your belly- it was all too much.

"You've gotta be quiet baby" he murmured as you raised your head to look at him, to beg him for something- anything.

"I know sweetheart, I know" he breathed, his lips skimming yours "I know issa lot"

And to think you couldn't even stand him seven days ago... look at you now- looking into his eyes pleadingly as he fucked you in the evidence room.

"Javi" you could only breathe as his mouth crashed with yours once again, "I'm gonna-"

"I know"

Of course he knew

And just like that, you were over the edge, his tongue in your mouth muffling your cries as his thrust got more erratic, and somehow even more powerful.

Once again, he'd given you the best orgasm of your life.

He tried to hold off to let you ride it out, but fuck him it was proving to be real fucking difficult.

And then you opened your eyes- your beautiful, dreamy, eyes that he'd been dreaming of for days and there was no point in fighting it anymore-

"F-fuck y/n- fuck-"

There was a loud thud somewhere behind you, but neither of you cared enough to look, or god forbid stop- there was only you, you, and the spectacular groan Javier fed you into a kiss as he finally reached his climax.

There was only the sound of your breathing, both your heavy breathings as you looked at each other- and then you smiled, and he couldn't help but do the same.

And then all of the sudden the sounds from the office started flowing into the room again.

Oh right

"we really have to get back"

"yeah" he halfheartedly agreed, slowly setting you back on your feet, only in doing so, something caught your eye.

"fuck"

There were files on the floor- there were files on the floor because you'd knocked down some of the boxes of evidence- and you hadn't even noticed.

Javier followed your line of sight, but while panic was setting in your heart, he began to smile

"don't laugh!" you hissed, "what the fuck do we do? How do we explain this?"

"we don't" he simply shrugged, closing his zipper back up as you quickly tried to make yourself presentable.

"What?"

"we were never here- now, get back out there"

"I-"

"trust me" he said, retrieving his wallet from the floor.

And for some fucking reason, you did- you trusted him.

"I hate you so much" you muttered, finally exiting the room.

Tg:@fallout-girl219

[frannyzooey]

Holy fuck.

First of all — I need to commend you on how much your writing has grown in such a short amount of time. I saw the note at the beginning of this stating that it was your first foray into writing in ten years (I love this so much) and I was 1) not only absolutely blown away by the talent in this, but 2) the GROWTH in your writing as someone who obsessively reads your newer stuff. This was an unbelievably well told, honest story with a super rich plot (that I did not see coming!!) and I cannot tell you how much I love, love, love this take on Javier.

It’s not very often that you find something softer for him (which is surprising to me, because he’s so tender in the show with the women he comes into contact with) but the way you let his kindness, his humor, and his friendliness shine through is everything to me. His vulnerability, his honesty with her, his protectiveness — CHRIST, his notebook and those passages about her made me literally cry, but the very idea that he keeps a notebook like that while working on himself seems so him.

The beginning of their relationship is so cute — both the first and second meeting — and I loved how unmoored he was?? in Laredo, because I have always been so obsessed with next steps for him after that final episode. You did a phenomenal job writing him working through his own things while helping someone else (because that is also the core of who he is) and for him to have happiness at the end of this was all I have ever wanted and dreamed for this man. (I could SQUEAL for hours about him dancing and singing and drinking and laughing and winking, because I LOVE IT SO MUCH)

Having read your Dieter and now this, I am blown away by how beautifully you write flawed females and make them so endearing and raw and funny — it is a gift you have, this ability to write such human characters and I love her with my whole heart. The pain she felt when Javi chose Melissa, everything about her family (which hits extremely close to home) her strength in dealing with Dan — I just wanted to hold her close during this whole thing, and I have never been more overjoyed to see someone find happiness. (The way Javi loves her laugh 🥺❤️😭)

This story was on my mind for days as I read through it (I literally zoned out thinking about it while waiting in line at Universal) and I am going to immediately reread it. This is gorgeous and you are such a fucking talented writer — I can’t impress this statement enough on you. I am obsessed.

Also, holy FUCK the dirty talk in this and the way she just went for Daddy and how much he loves her body and eats her tits constantly and begs her for it and the good boys thrown in there?!?!? FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK — it’s been a long time since I have read something that made me squirm and Jesus Christ this DID.

I fucking love this and I am so sorry for this unhinged reblog that I’m scrambling to write while my kids are at the pool but FUCK — I love both it and you.

Thank you so so much for sharing ❤️

Just Dumb Enough to Try - Masterlist

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Series Summary: In 1993, you met Javier Peña in San Antonio. You made an emotional and physical connection with him. Now it’s 1998 and you’re starting a new chapter of life in Laredo with your fiancé. And who else walks back into the picture, but the man who left you high and dry five years ago.

[ Taglist ]

Chapters

1: Wishful Drinking

2: Loaded

3: Bored in the USA

4: For Reasons Unknown

5: We're Going to be Friends

6: Amor Prohibito

7: Good Vibrations

8: Take This Longing

9: House of Cards

10: Take Me To Church

11: Shallow

12: Sleep

13: Saturday Night's Alright (For Fighting)

14: Savior Complex

15: Perfect Day

16: The Chain

17: Run Away With Me

18: Magnets

19: Domestic Bliss

20: The Chicken

21: Diggin' My Grave

22: Cosmic Love

23: Perfect Wife

24: A Walk Through Hell

25: Pitch Dark

26: This Must be the Place

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Long Distance

A followup to Suburban Sparks Pairing: Javier Peña x Steve's Little Sister Female Reader Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: He knows he shouldn't fall for you, he knows he shouldn't pick up the phone, but you're all he can think about. Warnings: Javi's POV, angst, guilt, yearning, pining, heartbreak, impressionist paintings, using a Clairo lyric as a play monologue, jealousy, smut, phone sex, secret bathroom sex, dirty photos. Takes place after S3. Words: 8,320

A/N: Written for @almostfoxglove's Angst Challenge, who made the GORGEOUS mood board for inspo. It truly fit the vibes of exactly what I was thinking would be the next step for Steve's Little Sister and Javier. My thanks to @devineconjuring, @mothandpidgeon, and @schnarfer for filling up my draft with suggestions, reactions, and edits and always letting me yap and ... them. Masterlist

—-

His heart thuds against his chest with every descending step. He hears the clatter of plates and silverware mixed with soft conversation– hears your voice. You’re awake. His eyes immediately catch yours when he walks into the kitchen. You sit at the breakfast table in an oversized sweatshirt that hangs off a shoulder, the same shoulder he kissed before he snuck out of bed and back to his room across the hall.

You’re so beautiful, he almost falls as he takes a seat.

“Damn, Peña, still drunk?” Steve asks as he flips the last pancake.

“Just tired,” he responds. “Morning,” he casually nods towards you, trying not to let his gaze stay on you for too long.

You nod a casual “hey” as you reach for the orange juice, your fingers wrapping around the glass. He loses his breath as he remembers how those same delicate fingers felt wrapped around him.

“Coffee, Javi?” Connie asks, pulling him from his reverie.

He nods, mumbling a response as you smirk. This is going to be an interesting breakfast.

“Good breakfast, thank you,” you say as you rise. “I’m going to get a shower before I go back home. Landlord still hasn’t fixed the hot water heater.”

“Help yourself,” Steve nods. “And Jesus Christ, find a better place.”

Javier takes a sip of coffee until the thought of you under the warm running water, naked and wet, flashes through his mind. He coughs as he chokes on the hot liquid.

"You okay there, partner?" Steve asks, eyebrow raised.

Javi nods, clearing his throat. "Yeah, just went down the wrong pipe." 

As your footsteps fade upstairs, Javi focuses intently on his breakfast, avoiding Steve's gaze. He can feel Connie's eyes on him, a hint of suspicion in her expression.

He eats his breakfast, listening closely to the rumble of the water heater as Steve and Connie discuss their plans for the day. The water heater turns off, snapping Javi back to the thought of you just upstairs.

"I should get ready too," he mumbles, avoiding eye contact as he picks up his plate and coffee cup, dropping them off by the sink. "Thanks for breakfast."

“‘Course, you’re our guest,” Steve says.

As he climbs the stairs, his heart races. The guilt over Steve sitting just downstairs getting drowned out by the anticipation of seeing you again.

He passes the bathroom door and then retraces his steps, standing in front of the white wooden blockade. You’re right behind the door. He knocks softly.

The door cracks open, a cloud of steam escaping as you peek out. Your face glistens with moisture, drops of water clinging to your skin. You take his breath away.

Your eyebrow quirks up before you open the door wider, stepping aside to let him in. He slips inside, closing the door behind him with a soft click. You’re wrapped in a towel–one measly towel. A drop of water trails down your collarbone to between your breasts, and his mouth waters, thinking of how good it’d taste.

"Javier," you whisper.

He steps closer. "I know, I know. We shouldn't."

But, as the words leave his mouth, you’re already reaching for him. His mouth crashes against yours, desperate to taste you again. You instantly mold into him, your fingers tangling in his hair as he backs you against the cool tile wall.

The towel slips, pooling at your feet. He breaks the kiss, his eyes reverently roaming your bare skin. “Fuck,” he breathes.

You grab the waistband of his sweatpants, pulling them down. “We don’t have much time.”

He nods, helping you pull down his boxer briefs, his cock already hard for you, weeping to feel your tight pussy around it.

He lifts you onto the countertop, spreading your legs wide and groaning when he feels how wet you are for him. Your eyes stare into his as he sheaths himself in you, both of you gasping at how good it feels. Your legs wrap around his waist and pull him closer as he begins to move. His hands grip the counter as he quietly fucks into you, the faint sound of his skin against yours and your soft moans echoing off the tile.

His tongue licks a path down your neck, tasting the condensation on your skin. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” is softly repeated against your sensitive skin. The way you softly moan back makes his legs weak. You sound so good, you taste so good, you feel so good.

Your hips meet his as his thrusts become more urgent as he listens for the sound of footsteps on the stairs. He wishes he could savor you, hear you scream his name, fuck into you for hours, but he can’t. He has to be quick. His hand travels down your smooth skin, and his finger begins circling your clit as his other hand grips the plush of your breast, kneading it in his hand. Your head falls back, your bottom lip captured between your teeth to stop yourself from making any more noise.

It’s forbidden and wrong. He knows this, but the way your body trembles underneath his touch, your hands exploring the broadness of his back, your tight pussy beginning to clench around his cock–he can’t say no to you. He circles your clit faster and harder, his fingers working in quick, tight circles as he fucks into you faster. Your breath comes in short, sharp gasps, your nails digging into his shoulders as you fight to stay quiet.

“Cum for me, baby,” he whispers. “I need to feel you cum.”

Your body tenses, a strangled moan escaping your lips before he presses his mouth against yours, swallowing your cries as he chases his own release. You pulse around him, and it’s too much. He buries himself inside you, his body shuddering as he cums, spilling inside of you. He stays buried in your heat, even though he knows he needs to leave. He just can’t. He rests his forehead against yours, listening to your soft gasps, trying to savor the moment for as long as he can.

“Wow,” you whisper, your voice lilts in awe.

He nods, trying hard to swallow the guilt. “I know.”

He pulls out slowly, both of you wincing at the loss of each other.

You hop off the counter, grabbing your towel, and wrapping it around yourself again. Javi tucks himself back into his pants and runs a hand through his disheveled hair.

"You should go," you say softly, not meeting his eyes. “You know… just in case.”

He nods, his hand already reaching for the doorknob. "Hey," he says, waiting for you to look at him. When you do, he sees the conflict in your eyes, knowing it mirrors his own, but he ignores it. “What’s your number?”

—-

The phone line hums, building a bridge between Laredo and Washington, D.C. He waits all day to hear the sound of your laughter spill through the receiver–sweet and warm, like honey. Most of the time, silence settles between the two of you, content to just stay on the line with each other 1,800 miles away.

He’d always be the one to call. Phone bill be damned, he made good money.

On some nights, after too many whiskeys or beers, he’d let some of the burden of Colombia off his shoulders. He’d tell you about the girls, the bodies, the nightmares. You’d meet every revelation with understanding and acceptance, letting him talk as little or as much as he wanted. 

It’s simple and comfortable, something he never felt like he deserved. But he can never have simple and comfortable–there’s always a complication. You are Steve’s little sister, after all.

He hates nights like this when the guilt creeps in and gnaws at him. The world is hushed, his thoughts loud. He tosses and turns, sheets tangling around his legs as he wrestles with his heart. He’s falling for you–Steve’s little sister. The same Steve who had his back in Colombia, who became more than just a partner.

He stares at the ceiling, your voice always echoing in his head.

It’s been three months since he met you at that ordinary suburban party. He replays everything in his head to calm himself–your smile, the sweet lilt of your voice, your wide eyes as you stared at him. The sound of your muffled moans escaping from behind his shirt, the warmth of your body pressed against his as you drifted to sleep.

Now, the memory of your soft skin under his fingertips haunts him, an almost bittersweet reminder of what he can never have. It could never work. Steve’s so protective of you that Javi can’t even imagine how he’d react if he knew someone like him was falling for his baby sister. He can’t do that to you… or Steve.

You’re in your twenties, still full of life and promise. While he’s forty, scarred from the long life he’s already lived. He pictures you growing resentful, feeling held back by his world-weariness, longing for someone more carefree and unburdened. He’s not the one for you, though you’re the one for him.

He turns, shuffling his cold sheets up around his shoulder as he stares out the window. One night spent together in his friend’s backyard and guest bedroom. One morning spent in a white-tiled bathroom. Countless nights on the phone.

He thinks about you curled up on the couch during your late-night calls, wrapped in an oversized sweater, your voice soft and sleepy. He dreams of one day being on that couch with you. In a perfect life that he’ll never have.

—-

Javier Peña never reads the news. He doesn’t pay attention to the news. He doesn’t care about the news. He doesn’t want to hear about the news—that is, until you entered his life.

“Any news?” he asks, hearing the rustle of your newspaper crackling through the phone.

“Hmm, lemme see.”

He can imagine you scanning the headlines, your finger running down the text, brows furrowed in concentration. You love the news, love reading and learning, love being informed. Now, Javier Peña reads the news.

"Ohh! The Smithsonian's got a new exhibit opening next week. An Impressionist Sensibility. It says the paintings in the collection are linked through a shared sensibility about American cultural aspirations at the turn of the century."

"Yeah?"

“Yeah, it looks really cool, Jav.”

He loves it when you call him Jav. It’s so casual, so comfortable. Nobody ever calls him Jav besides you. He listens intently as you read, letting the sound of your voice wash over him.

"Sounds pretty interesting. Sounds like something you have to see in person."

You hum in agreement, a wistful note in your voice. "It does. Maybe someday we could…"

The sentence hangs unfinished, both of you acutely aware of the complications that keep you apart. He clears his throat, pushing away the surge of longing that threatens to overwhelm him. Move on, agent.

"My turn," he says, unfolding his paper. "Let's see what thrilling news Laredo's got today."

—

“Tell me I did good, Jav. Tell me to stop obsessing over it. Tell me they didn’t notice I paused a little too long between lines.”

He chuckles. “You did amazing. I’m sure of it, cariño.”

He doesn’t know how you can be so brave, going up onstage in front of auditoriums full of people. All eyes on you. He could never do what you do.

“Really?”

“I’d surely cast you if I could.”

“Mm, I’m sure you would,” you respond. He can hear the smile in your voice.

You’ve been so nervous over the audition for the play. He remembers how you'd practiced your lines with him, how he stayed up late listening to you recite the main monologue over and over just so he could hear your voice. He could hear the emotions. You’re so talented, there’s no way you’re not going to get the part.

“You’re going to get it, cariño.” 

"You really think so?" you ask, a hint of hope in your voice.

"I do. When will you find out?"

"Rehearsals start next month, so hopefully soon," you answer.

"You've got me to keep you distracted."

“I swear, I’d lose my mind without you…”

—-

He’s lying in bed awake again. He’s getting to a point of no turning back with you. He closes his eyes, and all he can see is you.

“I swear, I’d lose my mind without you…” repeats through his head.

He reaches for his phone on the nightstand. It would be so easy to call, to hear your voice one more time. But he can't. He won't.

Instead, he pushes himself out of bed, padding barefoot across the hardwood floor of his apartment to the sparse but functional kitchen. He pours a glass of whiskey, hoping it’ll help drown out his thoughts.

This feeling is so foreign to him. He hasn’t felt this way about anybody since Lorraine–and even then, he fucked that up. He shouldn't have let it go this far. Shouldn't have knocked on the door of that guest room, shouldn't have kissed you like a drowning man praying for air. But he did. And now he can't forget.

You’re too young, too bright, and too adventurous. You’re so full of potential. What the hell are you doing talking to him every single night? He has to step away and let you go. But he won’t. Because underneath all of those accomplishments and pursuits, he’s still a coward.

—-

You softly moan into the phone, and he can hear the swishing of the sheets as you get comfortable on your bed. He can almost see you, feel you, remember how sweet you tasted. He thuds his head against his pillow, an ache of loneliness from his heart traveling down to his cock. 

“You can’t do that, cariño,” he lowly growls.

“Huh?”

“Moan like that,” he responds. Now, he’s the one adjusting. “I–it’s been a while.” 

You chuckle, a low, tempting sound. He’s in trouble. It’s been a month of talking to you almost every night, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t constantly fighting the urge to touch himself while listening to your voice. But he’s resisted, not wanting to cross that line and make things even more complicated than they already are. 

“Sorry, my bed feels really good. Quite lonely, though,” you pout, your voice dripping in saccharine sarcasm. 

Fuck. He’s so needy for you, he’s already growing hard.

“What are you wearing?” he asks, feeling a little ridiculous at the question, hoping you’re just as turned on as him.

“Don’t laugh. Promise you won’t laugh.” 

“What? Why would I laugh?” he smiles, shaking his head.

“Because Javi. Just… don’t laugh or judge.”

“I won’t. Trust me. Tell me what you’re wearing.”

“Your green shirt.” 

His spine straightens. “Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah.”

“Anything else?”

“No.”

“Fuck,” he whispers. “You wear it a lot?”

“Mmhmm, I sleep in it all the time.” 

“I’m sure it looks real good on you, doesn’t it?” 

“I think it looked better when it was stuffed in my mouth while you were fucking me.”

He groans, his heart racing as he reaches down and grips the heft of himself tucked away in his shorts. 

“That was a good night, wasn’t it?” he asks, softly squeezing himself. 

“It was one of the best, Javi. I think about it all the time.” 

“Me too,” he divulges, remembering the brightness of your eyes, the sweet taste of your lips, the feel of your pussy clenching him. “I also really liked the morning in the bathroom.” You laugh–a sweet sound that makes his heart beat even faster–before you sigh. “I wish you were here, Javi.” “I do, too, cariño.” 

“What would you do if you were with me?” you ask, your voice low. You’re such a temptress.

His voice drops to a sultry whisper as he closes his eyes and imagines you in his bed. "I'd start by getting you out of that shirt, real slow. I’d get to take my time and kiss every inch of skin."

You let out a soft moan. "Mmm, then what?"

"I'd push you back onto the bed, trail my fingers up your soft thighs." His own hand mimics the motion, sliding up his leg. "I’d spread your legs and kiss my way up, before giving your sweet pussy a long lick, savoring just how good you taste."

"God, Javi. Please," you whimper.

"Touch yourself for me, baby. Pretend it's me."

He can picture you perfectly–laid out on your bed, his shirt bunched up around your waist, your hand between your legs.

You let out a gasp and a long, low moan. He pulls his shorts down and gives himself a tight, slow stroke.

“Feel good, baby?” he asks, rubbing the bit of precum he’s leaked out across his head.

“Mmhmm,” you moan. “I love it when you call me baby.”

“Baby,” he groans as he spits in his hand and strokes himself.

“Fuck, I’m so wet,” you breathe into the phone.

“I wish I was there with you, baby. I'd slide two fingers deep inside your tight little pussy, curl them just right to make you moan for me." He strokes himself faster, imagining the slick heat of you clenching around him.

You let out a whimper. “I need you inside me.”

“I need to be inside you too, cariño,” he replies, his hand moving faster along his length. “Tell me how badly you want me.”

“I want you to fuck me hard and fast,” you moan. “God, I think about it all the time, Jav.”

He grunts in response, imagining your body writhing beneath him.

“Oh god,” you cry out.

He squeezes his cock harder, picking up the pace as you whine and moan for him.

“You sound so good. I love the way you moan for me. You’re all I ever want to hear.”

“Fuck,” you pant. “Gonna cum.”

“That’s it, cum for me, cariño.”

You let out a loud moan as your orgasm hits. It floats through the phone into his ear and down to his cock. He lets out a long, low “fuck” as he reaches his own release, grunting your name as his cock pulses in his fist, streams of cum spilling out onto his hand and stomach.

All that can now be heard is heavy breathing and soft moans as you both come down from your highs.

He feels the guilt begin to show its ugly head just as you say his name.

“Javi, that was… wow.”

“I know, baby, I know.” 

—-

He pulls an envelope out of his mailbox. Your handwriting is neat and flowy–he smiles at the bright green marker you chose.

So, this is why you wanted his address.

He’s opening the envelope before his door even shuts. He hasn’t been this excited to open something since Christmas morning thirty years ago.

He pulls out a handmade card–a dark green Christmas tree adorned with little red hearts is painted on the front, with MERRY CHRISTMAS JAV written in cursive above it–and his face lights in a wide grin.

As he opens the card,  a bundle of Polaroid photos tied together with a ribbon falls out and lands on the table.

A simple message is inside the card.

Surprise! I hope you like them. xoxo

With a quick pull on the silky ribbon, the bundle is untied. He slowly flips through each photo, his heart skipping a beat as he assesses each one like evidence.

You’re smiling in a few of them, his green shirt hanging loosely off your shoulders. You look so beautiful, so carefree and happy. He traces a finger over one, wishing he could touch you.

His breath catches in his throat as he flips to the next photo. You’re still in his shirt, but you sit, wearing only that on your bed. Your smooth legs bent to the side of you, your eyes hooded, with a coy smile playing at your lips. He swallows hard as he flips to the next photo.

His mouth goes dry. You’re completely naked, lying back on your bed. Your body is on full display for him. He runs a hand through his hair, feeling slightly dizzy, his cock twitching at the sight of you.

It feels so forbidden, so wrong to have these photos of you.

“Fuck,” he whispers when he turns to the next picture. You’re kneeling on your bed, your hands resting on the back of your neck. Your tits are pushed out, your nipples hard. He can see the glistening wetness between your thighs. He wants to taste you so bad.

The following picture makes him gasp. You’re lying across your bed, one hand gripping the soft swell of your breast while the other is between your legs. Your lip is caught between your teeth. He can almost hear the breathy moans you’re letting out.

He flips to the next one, and his cock throbs painfully against his jeans. You’re on your hands and knees, your head turned, peering over your shoulder at the camera. The sight of your ass makes his mouth water. He wants nothing more than to grab your hips and pull you back onto his aching cock.

With a shaky breath, he reveals the final Polaroid. Your hand is outstretched towards the camera, a drop of your arousal glistening on your fingertip as if you’re offering him a taste of you. The image is so visceral he can almost taste you.

He sits back in his chair, the Polaroids tightly clutched in one hand while the other palms himself through his jeans. This is, without a doubt, the best gift he’s ever received, but he still feels wrong to have it.

—-

“So, any news?” you ask, your voice still a bit slow and low from the orgasm you just moaned out for him. It’s now a nightly ritual–phone sex followed by sharing local articles.

He scans the headlines. “The Laredo Little Theater is putting on a production of Our Town next month.”

“Our Town! I was Emily a few years back.”

“I-I’ve never seen it.” Frankly, he’s never heard of it. He’s never really seen a play–unless he counts the couple of productions Lorraine was in during high school. He wishes he was more cultured for you.

"I still remember my lines. Emily's monologue at the end about realizing what she missed in life. It's always stuck with me."

He leans back against his headboard, intrigued. "Tell me about it, cariño."

You clear your throat softly. "Oh, earth, you're too wonderful for anybody to realize you. Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it — every, every minute?"

“Wow,” he whispers after a long pause. "That's beautiful, baby.”

“Thanks, Jav. I just wish…”

Your voice trails off, and his chest tightens.

“I know,” he sighs. “Me too.”

He knows exactly what you’re thinking. If only things were different. If only there wasn’t a shadow of guilt and secrecy. He knows he’s already fallen for you.

Silence stretches. He clears his throat. “Your turn, cariño. What’s in the news?”

—-

Another sleepless night, another internal battle, another lonely sunrise, another cup of black coffee to try to wake him up.

The shrill ring of his phone cuts through the silence, startling him from his brooding. He glances at the clock–8:17 a.m.–an unfamiliar number with a DC area code on the screen.

"Peña," he answers gruffly, his voice rough from whiskey and lack of sleep.

"Mr. Peña, this is Agent Thompson from DEA headquarters in Washington. I wanted to inform you personally that we'd like to offer you the position."

The job. The one he'd interviewed for months ago, the reason he'd been in DC. The reason he'd met you. He should feel elated, triumphant even. Instead, dread settles in his stomach and heart.

"Mr. Peña? Are you there?"

"Yes, I'm here. Thank you for the offer. When, uh, when would you need me to start?"

"We'd like you here in two weeks, if possible. Is that doable?"

Two weeks. Fourteen days to uproot his life, to move across the country. Fourteen days to figure out how to tell you… or if he should tell you at all.

"Mr. Peña?"

"Yes, that's fine. I'll make it work," he says, his mind already racing.

After hanging up, he stands motionless in his kitchen, the half-empty whiskey glass from last night sitting on the counter. The job he'd wanted, the fresh start he'd been seeking for so long–it's all here for him. But now, it feels like a curse.

He imagines being in the same city as you, knowing you're just across town. The temptation to see you, to touch you, would be constant. And Steve–how could he look Steve in the eye, knowing what he's done with you?

The guilt gnaws at him, heavier than the weight of everything else. He should be honest, should tell you about the job offer. But the words stick in his throat every time he thinks about picking up the phone.

Days pass in a blur of packing and paperwork. You try calling, leaving a message each time. They start out sweet until the third day when you sound upset.

"Javi, hi, it’s me. I-I don’t know what’s going on, but please call me.”

Each night, he stares at the phone, his hand reaching to grab it. But he can't bring himself to dial. Can't bear to hear the excitement in your voice when he tells you he's moving to DC.

On the sixth day, you leave another message.

“Hey Javi, it’s me again, I… I hope you’re okay. I… did I do something? Please just call so I know you’re okay.”

He has to call you. Has to think of some way to let you down because he knows, deep down, that he can't have you. Not really. Not without destroying his friendship with Steve, not without ruining your relationship with your brother. Not without tainting the pure, beautiful thing that's grown between you.

By the tenth day, you’re mad.

“Hey, Javier. I ended up having to ask Connie if she had heard anything about you, so that was real fun. Listen… I don’t know what the hell is going on. If you found someone else or… got tired of me, but I just—I hope you’re happy. I… I guess I’ll… I don’t know. I hope you’re fine.”

His heart clenches as your voice cracks on the last words. He can hear the hurt, the confusion in your tone, and it tears him apart. 

He can't take it anymore–the guilt, the longing, the fear. It's all too much. He picks up the phone and dials your number.

Ring… ring… rin–

"Hello?" Your voice is hesitant, guarded.

"It's me," Javier says. "I'm… sorry."

There's a long pause on the other end. He can hear you breathing, can almost feel the tension radiating off of you through the line.

"Javi?" You sound uncertain, like you can't quite believe it's him. "Where have you been? I've been so worried."

He closes his eyes, leaning against the wall. "I know, I'm sorry. There’s been a lot going on. I… I got a job offer last week. The job in DC is mine."

Another pause. "Oh," you say softly. "Javi… that’s great news. Congrats.”

"Thanks," he says before taking a deep breath, steeling himself for what he knows has to be said. "Listen, I-I think it’s best if we don’t keep doing this."

The silence on the other end of the line stretches. He can almost picture you, your eyes wide with confusion and hurt.

“This?” 

“Yeah, talking and… I just fear it’s gone too far.”

"What?" you finally whisper, your voice barely audible. "Why?"

He closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. He feels his heart break as the words get caught in his throat, but he forces them out. "It's complicated. I’m so much older than you, and you’re… you're Steve's little sister, and I’ll be working with him again. It's not right. It was never right."

He hears you take a shaky breath. "So, you ignore me for over a week and then call to let me know this? I know you’re older than me. I know I’m Steve’s sister. That’s fucked Javi. How could you? I thought we had something speci—”

"I know," he interrupts. "I know, and that's why we have to stop. Before it goes any further. Before anyone gets hurt."

You gasp, and his heart clenches at the sound. He wants to take it all back, to tell you he didn't mean any of it, but he forces himself to stay silent.

“Yes, before anyone gets hurt…”

“You deserve more than me, cariño. I’m old, and I’ve been through so much. You’re still so young and full of life… I’d only hold you back. I’m sorry.”

"I see," you say, your tone suddenly cold and distant. "Well, thank you for your honesty, Agent Peña. I hope your new job in DC is everything you've ever wanted."

The formality in your voice cuts him deeper than any anger could have. He opens his mouth to speak, but you've already hung up. 

—-

He stands at the windows of his new apartment in Arlington, gazing out at the lights of DC across the Potomac. Snow falls outside, and he reminds himself he needs to buy some warmer clothing. It’s beautiful, he thinks. His eyes search the horizon, wondering if your building is visible.

His apartment is nice–modern and spacious with sleek furniture that doesn’t suit him. It’s more than he needs, really, but the DEA had been generous with their relocation package. It doesn’t feel like his place at all, but a Polaroid of you that leans against his bedside lamp makes it feel like home.

He'd chosen this place for the view, telling himself it was because he'd always wanted to live somewhere with a skyline again. But deep down, he knows it's because he wanted to look out at the city you love.

He imagines what you might be doing right now. Are you curled up on the couch, reading a book? The newspaper? Are you, like him, standing at a window, looking out at the city and wondering what might have been? Or are you out with your friends, trying to meet somebody else? Do you miss him like he misses you?

He tries to dislodge the thoughts with a shake of his head. It’s been two weeks since that phone call. Since he broke things off. Since your cold voice let him go. He tells himself it was the right thing to do, that he’s protecting you from the darkness that follows him.

In a perfect world, you’d be here, looking out the same window as he wrapped his arms around you. You’d lean back against his chest, fitting perfectly in his embrace. There’d be no hesitation, no guilt. Just pure happiness, waking up next to you every morning. In that world, Steve would be happy for you both. In that world, Javier would be happy. But he knows all too well this is not a perfect world.

—-

He goes to the Smithsonian alone, wandering through the halls of the art museum on a quiet Sunday afternoon. The same exhibit you read to him about. The same exhibit he dreamed of taking you to, holding your hand and kissing your cheek as you gazed at the paintings. He moves slowly, hands clasped behind his back, taking in each painting. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, how to describe what he’s seeing, or how to feel… he wishes you were here to help him understand. None of it makes sense to him. Are the paintings supposed to look unfinished and kind of blurry? He imagines you beside him, telling him all about the break from tradition these paintings represented. He’d nod, pretending to understand, the same way he’s nodding as he reads the guidebook.

He pauses before a painting. Vibrant flowers grow amongst the dappled sunlight–the bright colors remind him of the way your eyes light when you laugh. He can almost hear your sweet voice reading the exhibit description to him again. He wonders if you’ve been here, if you’ve stood in this very spot, admiring the same painting.

As he moves to the next painting, a flash of familiar color catches his eye. For a moment, his heart stops. A woman stands across the room, her back to him, wearing a dress in the same exact shade of green as the shirt he’d left you. She resembles you from the back, and he takes a step forward, your name on the tip of his tongue, before she turns.

It’s not you. Of course, it’s not. All that’s left now is a hollow ache in his chest.

What would he do? What would he even say? What is he doing here, a cop trying to be cultured?

He moves on, trying to focus on the art. He thinks of you again, imagines your voice in his ear. “Art is for everyone. There’s no right or wrong way to experience it. Just let yourself feel.”

Feel. He doesn’t want to feel. All he can feel is how much he misses you. How much he knows he’ll never have this with you, seeing the world through your eyes.

Each painting seems to hold a piece of you. The soft light of a Twachtman landscape captures the glow of your skin in the firelight. The bold strokes of a Sargent portrait remind him of your spirit and personality.

He pauses in front of a Renoir. A man leads a woman, her hand in his. His eyes focus on their fingers intertwined with each other’s, imagining the feel of your hand in his. He rubs his hand against the denim of his jeans, trying to warm the coldness running through his veins.

He turns away, unable to bear the sight any longer. The weight of his regret, his longing, settles heavily on his shoulders as he exits the gallery.

He'd pushed you away to protect you, but being here, surrounded by a softer, more beautiful world, he wonders if he made the right choice.

—-

He finds himself driving through the busy streets of Adams Morgan, the same neighborhood you call home. His heart pounds stronger with each turn as he navigates the unfamiliar roads. 

He parks his car and steps out onto the sidewalk, feeling out of place as he takes in the colorful row of houses and stores that line your neighborhood streets. He walks down the street, his eyes scanning the bright buildings until he finds the taco place you’d always rave about.

“I bet it’s just as good as Laredo, Javi,” he remembers you saying. “You have to try it when you’re here.”

He hesitates for a moment before pushing open the door. The small restaurant is packed.

His order is simple: two al pastor tacos and a Topo Chico, just like you’d recommended. He takes a seat at a small table by the window and waits for his order.

How many times have you walked down this very street? Have you sat at this very table?

He takes a bite of the taco. It’s good. Damn good. Almost as good as home. He can practically hear your triumphant "I told you so!"

People pass by on the sidewalk as he eats. He imagines you and him–his arm wrapped around you, your body close to his as you walk around your neighborhood. Your face lighting up as you show him all of your favorite places. He'd follow you, unable to resist your enthusiasm… or you.

The winter wind snaps against his skin as he steps out of the restaurant. He starts walking with no real destination in mind. Colorful murals, bright storefronts, and eclectic homes line the street. This is your world, he realizes. These are the sights you see and sounds you hear every day.

He wonders how close he is to your apartment. He imagines you coming home from work and stopping at one of the little bodegas on the corner for some milk or bread.

He doesn’t think he’d fit in well within this world, but he sure as hell would try, just for you. God, he misses you.

—-

Steve drops a pile of files on Javi’s desk.

“New case. Have some fun. So, how’s DC treating you?” Steve asks, casually leaning against his desk.

He shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant. Trying to hide the sadness that consumes him. “It’s different from Laredo, that’s for sure.”

Steve laughs, clapping him on the shoulder. “Yeah, I bet. Hey, you should come over for dinner sometime. Connie would love to see you. I’ll invite the usual group.”

Javier’s heart skips a beat as he tries to keep his face neutral. “Yeah, maybe,” he says noncommittally. “Been busy settling in, you know how it is.”

“Well, find time, Peña.”

The guilt, a constant companion these days, gnaws at him as he watches Steve leave.

—-

The early spring evening is warm. His heart beats faster as he gets out of his car and walks up the pathway to Steve’s front porch.

He steps through the front door, breathing in the scent of a happy home, feeling so out of place among the marital bliss and designer furniture.

“Javi,” Connie breezes over, looking like the perfect hostess she always is. She pulls him in for a hug. He’s always liked her, felt comfortable around her.

"Hey, Connie," he says, returning her hug. "Thanks for having me."

"Of course! I’m so happy to see you," she beams. "Come on, everyone’s outside.”

Everyone. Does that include you? He's never been this nervous, not even when he saw Lorraine after all those years.

He follows Connie through the house, his eyes scanning for any sign of you. His heart races as they step out onto the back patio. Steve's at the grill, chatting with a few friends. There are kids running around the yard, couples mingling with drinks in hand. But no sign of you.

It’s as familiar as all those months ago. He felt like an outsider… until he met you. He still searches for you. Still no sign.

"Beer?" Connie offers, already reaching into a cooler.

"Thanks," he nods, taking the cold bottle from her. He takes a long swig, trying to calm his nerves.

"Peña!" Steve calls out, waving him over. "Get over here, man!"

He makes his way across the patio, overhearing a snippet of conversation. He hears your name and slows his pace, straining to hear more.

“She’ll be a little late. Rehearsals for the play ran long.”

The play. You got the part. In a perfect world, he’d be there on opening night, sitting in the front row with a bouquet of flowers for you. He’d watch you, so proud and in awe of your talent. After the show, he’d wait for you backstage, hold you close, and whisper in your ear how amazing you were.

Pride swells in his chest… until the guilt creeps back in.

“Hey, man,” Steve’s voice breaks through his daydream. “Did you hear me?”

“No, sorry. What?”

"I said, glad you could make it," Steve repeats.

“Oh, yeah, me too.”

“A couple of guys from work are here. I’m sure they’d love to get to know you. I’m tired of answering all of their questions about you.”

He lets out a tense chuckle. The last thing he thinks he can do is pretend to care about a group of rookie agents wanting to get to know the Javier Peña.

He really hates these parties.

—-

An hour passes. The sun begins to set, casting everything in Steve’s picturesque backyard in long shadows. Javi goes through the motions. He makes small talk with his new coworkers and Steve's friends, laughing at jokes he barely hears. His eyes keep darting to the gate, waiting for you to arrive.

He remembers the first time he saw you. You walked through the gate, your flannel shirt tucked haphazardly into your ripped jeans. He couldn’t look away from you. Maybe he knew he needed someone like you in his life–honest, bright, funny, and too cool for him.

He hears the click of the gate latch. His breath catches as he turns.

And there you are.

You look so beautiful. A plaid skirt sits just above your knees, paired with a simple white tank top under a soft, oversized cardigan. His heart hurts as he takes in your beauty, trying not to stare. You look happy, relaxed, glowing. He wonders if you know he’d be here tonight.

His rapidly beating heart sinks when you turn to say something to a man following you through the gate.

The man’s wavy chestnut hair falls perfectly in place, and thick-rimmed glasses are perched on his nose, framing bright green eyes. He’s wearing a vintage t-shirt underneath a well-worn brown leather jacket. Everything about him screams, ‘hip theatre guy.’ The exact opposite of an old, grizzled DEA agent haunted by his past.

He envies the man with everything in his entire being. The way he gets to look at you–a wide smile, soft eyes that get to follow your every movement.

Javi’s jaw clenches as he watches you and your handsome stranger approach a group. Your eyes also scan the backyard, and for too quick of a moment, they meet with his… until you look away and laugh at something your companion just said. The sound feels like a knife twisting into his chest.

He’s hyper-aware of your presence all night, watching you from the corner of his eyes, each sight of you a blessing and a curse.

He tries to focus on his conversations, on Steve, on his coworkers–on anything but you. But his eyes keep drifting back. The man who came with you never strays from your side, his hand often resting on the small of your back or brushing against your arm.

He wants nothing more than to cross the patio, pull you aside, and explain everything. To beg for forgiveness, to tell you how much he misses you. But he stays rooted in place, trapped by his own choices and the consequences that followed.

The gathering begins to thin out as the night goes on. He watches as you say goodbye to a few guests, hugging them warmly. Your eyes sweep across the yard again, and for a moment, he thinks you might look his way. But you turn, whispering something to your companion before heading towards the house alone.

Before he can second-guess himself, he sets down his beer and follows you. He slips through the patio doors and can just make out the soft pad of your footsteps heading upstairs.

He follows you as if you’re a perp, softly ascending the stairs–just like that morning after he first met you. The light escapes under the door of the guest bathroom. He takes a breath, steeling himself as he waits for you to come out.

The knob turns, and his heart races as the door opens, revealing you in the soft light of the bathroom. Your eyes widen in surprise.

"Can I... can I apologize?" Javi asks hesitantly.

You shake your head, your voice barely above a whisper. "No, Jav. You can't."

Jav. Fuck. Hearing you say his name makes his heart drop. His hand taps against his thigh, fighting the urge to reach out and pull you into his arms.

"You hurt me," your voice trembles. Each word feels like a dagger in his heart. "I'm... I'm trying to let time pass by. To move on."

“Please, I never meant to—”

His plea is cut short by the sound of footsteps ascending the stairs.

Connie appears, her keen eyes taking in the scene before her. She reaches for your hand while shooting Javi a glance. She understands without a single word spoken.

“Go on, love, go back to the party. Elliott is waiting for you,” Connie softly says to you.

He watches as you nod and quickly leave, not even sparing a glance back at him.

“Javier,” Connie says, putting a hand on his shoulder. “She’s happy.” 

He swallows, his brown eyes rounding with the guilt he too often has to hide.

Connie's eyes soften as she looks at him, her hand still resting on his shoulder. She leads him to the guest room where he spent that first night with you.

She closes the door and motions for him to sit on the bed. The same bed he held you close on.

"Javier," she begins, her voice gentle but firm. "I know what happened. I know you care about her. And I know she cares about you. She told me.”

He looks up at her, surprised by her words. "She told you? About us?"

Connie nods, a sad smile on her lips. "She was heartbroken. That first month after you told her not to call, she was a wreck. She tried to hide it, but Steve mentioned you while she was here for dinner one night, and she… she quickly got up and made an excuse. I found her crying in this room. She told me everything.”

“Steve?” he asks, feeling even more guilt wash over him, the weight of his choices crushing his chest.

She shakes her head. “He doesn’t know. I promised not to tell him.”

“I had to let her go–for her, for Steve, for everyone." He hangs his head, staring at his clasped hands. He squeezes them harder, needing to let the pressure out somehow. He searches for the right words. "She’s happy now? With him?"

Connie nods. "Elliott is a good guy," she says gently. "He treats her well. But..." She pauses and then sighs. “But I don’t think he’s you.”

A flicker of hope ignites in his chest. “How do I fix this?”

“I don’t know. If you really want to make things right, you need to tell her how you truly feel."

He nods slowly. “I can't stop thinking about her. About what could have been."

"If you really care for her–if you're willing to face whatever might come from being with her–then you need to let her know. But if you're going to run away again at the first sign of trouble, then you have to let her go. For good this time."

“And Steve?”

“Listen, he’s a big softy underneath it all. Might take him a bit to come around to it, but I’ll hide his gun for you. I know that, in the end, as long as she’s happy, he’ll be happy.”

He nods. He knows you’re the one. “Thanks, Connie.”

She stands, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Just think about it, okay? And whatever you decide, be sure. She deserves that much."

Connie leaves him alone in the bedroom. He runs his hand along the comforter, closing his eyes, and can almost feel the warmth of your body curled against his. He wishes he could hold you again.

He takes a deep breath, his decision made.

—-

The house lights dim, the audience hushes, and the stage lights brighten. The curtain draws back, and there you are, center stage, glowing like an ethereal being.

His heart soars with pride as he watches you mesmerize the crowd with your talent. You embody your character completely, and he’s in awe of you even from his seat in the back row.

He hears the familiar lines of the end monologue–the same lines he heard you recite over and over months ago. They transport him back to those nights spent on the phone with you. The familiar ache in his chest gets tighter, squeezing his heart harder. A lone tear wells in his eye as he mouths the final line with you.

“I’d rather be alone than a stranger.”

The crowd erupts into applause as the curtain closes. You were flawless. He knew you’d be amazing.

You return to the stage, a wide smile on your face, the stage lights glinting off unshed tears in your eyes.

Now’s his chance. He slips out the stage door, walking down a side hallway marked "Authorized Personnel Only." In this hand, he clutches a bouquet of bright flowers and the day’s newspaper.

He pauses at each door, reading the names scrawled on makeshift placards. He finally finds yours, glancing over his shoulder before gently turning the doorknob.

He’s never been in a space of yours before. He knows he has to be quick, but he takes a moment to breathe in the scent of your perfume.

He places the bouquet and newspaper on the vanity, before quickly exiting and slipping out the stage door.

—-

Javi paces in his apartment, unable to sit still. He can still hear your voice and picture how you looked under the stage lights.

It’s been hours since he left the flowers in your dressing room. Did you find them? Did you read his note? Has enough time passed?

He pours himself a glass of whiskey, hoping it might calm him.

As he raises the glass to his lips, the shrill ring of his phone cuts through the quiet. He sets down his drink and reaches for the phone.

He takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself before answering. "Hello?"

"Javi." Your voice is soft and hesitant. He closes his eyes, smiling at the sound he's missed so much.

“Hey,” he says, a relieved smile lighting his face. “Congratulations. You were incredible.”

“Thank you. The flowers are beautiful… and the newspaper?"

His heart speeds in his chest. “I-I was hoping we could read the news together like old times?”

Silence hangs between the two of you as he waits for your response.

“I’d… I’d like that. What’s your address?”

[sometimesanalice]

Between Friends

Summary: Bradley and you don’t talk about that Spring Break. But a single question asked during a night out at the Hard Deck might just change things between the two of you forever.

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 11K

Warning: smut (including loss of virginity), brief mention of underage drinking, and college!bradley in a backwards hat

(Author's note: Happy Birthday Jordan! I wrote this just for you! Look at me keeping secrets from you! Enjoy!)

𝐍𝐎𝐖

Rooster couldn’t control his bouncing leg.

That night at the Hard Deck had started out like any other: good music, good drinks, good people. Over the course of the evening, he’d found himself seated between you and Bob in a lopsided circle with the rest of the Daggers around a few tall tables that had been pushed together just shooting the shit.

It was all fun and games until swapping stories about embarrassing middle school moments turned into cringing over first kiss stories turned into Seresin grinning like a shark asking about how everyone’s first time went down.

Rooster felt his pulse kick up with every collective laugh and groan as his friends went one by one sharing how they’d lost their virginities. Because with each passing story, it meant that you were one person closer to going. And for the first time in his life- even after over two decades of friendship- he didn’t know what your answer was going to be.

So he is just as shocked as his teammates are when you tentatively reveal, “So, um, my first time was with Rooster.” He doesn’t miss the way all his friends’ heads snap towards him. 

All eyes are on the two of you, and you’re pointedly looking anywhere but him.

Rooster had been anxiously waiting to hear the story of your first official time, the one that was with someone who wasn’t him. He didn’t realize that you still considered him your first.  He’d figured that part of your history had long been overwritten by whoever had been lucky enough to catch your eye and make your heart race in a romantic way.

The two of you had never talked about it in the after.

Not once, not ever.

He didn’t care that people knew, he just wasn’t expecting it.

Jake starts the group out of its stunned silence by slapping a heavy hand on top of the table, nearly sending some bottles to the floor, “I knew it! I knew y’all couldn’t have been friends all this time and not have tried it out at least once.”

“Jesus Christ, dude, chill,” Javy mutters. He’s always been the better of the two about reading the room.

Trying to spare you from being put on the spot even more than you already were now, Rooster mumbles through the way he’d lost his to a girl from his AP Econ class after a playoff baseball game.

He stares at the way you’re nervously picking at the label of the Blue Moon he’d grabbed for you when he went to get a refill of his own. He can practically hear the way your brain is buzzing. He wonders if you wish you could take back the words from where they are sitting on the table with the collection of bottles and peanut shells for everyone to see.

Bob being the team player that he is starts talking about how he’d lost his one summer in college to another camp counselor, going into more detail than he’s ever given before, probably trying to redirect the attention to himself to give the two of you a moment to regroup.

Rooster makes a mental note to tell Penny to put all of Bob’s cream sodas from now on on his own tab.

He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do here. Or where to look. Or where to put his hands. He wants to talk to you, but there’s no good way for him to go about it without drawing even more attention to the two of you.

You were supposed to be going on a first date tonight, but he’d talked you into canceling to hang out with him instead. He likes having all of your attention on him. And maybe he’s been a little selfish with you, because he doesn’t like to share you with anyone else. You’ve always been his best friend.

Rooster likes that he gets to talk to you whenever he wants now, and that it doesn’t feel like a never-ending game of catch up anymore. In the year since the Uranium mission, he’d felt like all the fragmented pieces of his life had finally come together. He’d reconnected with Mav, he was living in the same city as his best friend, and he had a place he could finally call home.

He didn’t just want the highlights with you, he wanted everything in between too. There’s no more distance due to time zones and scheduling times to call because now you only live 20 minutes away from him. And the next time he comes home from a deployment, he knows he’ll get to look forward to seeing you there waiting for him.

He feels like he’s learned so much more about the grown-up version of you over the last year than he has in the last ten.

Jake jumps in barely a breath after Bob finishes telling his story. “Well, we all know it’s not the first who matters, but who was the best.” Rooster doesn’t trust the gleam in his eyes or the sharp smile on his face. “Since Bradshaw cut you off before, how’s about you go first this time, darlin’. You can tell us about who knocked your socks off. Maybe this time he’ll let you finish, if you know what I mean.”

It’s thinly veiled snooping disguised as chivalry, and it doesn’t fool anyone. Nat’s eyes dart to him briefly, trying to get a read on him.

He’d been 21 at the time. And while he knows more now that he did then, he also knows his name isn’t going to be coming out of your mouth for a second time tonight.

Rooster takes a sip of his beer, needing something to do.

He knows you’ve been with other people. You’d lived with your ex for over a couple years, for fuck's sake. But it was like an unspoken agreement between the two of you to not talk about your sex lives with each other.

His leg starts bouncing again and he realizes he really doesn’t want to hear this. Not because of his ego, but because he doesn’t know what to do about the knot that’s formed in his stomach.

Your mouth opens and closes a couple times before you speak, “That title would also go to Rooster.” The admission is soft, but sure. 

Where his heart had been pounding before, now it feels like it had stopped completely.

It’s been 13 years since that Spring Break. 13 years and he’s still your best?

Barely five minutes ago, he hadn’t known where to look. But now? Now he couldn’t stop staring at you.

He just didn’t understand why you still wouldn’t look at him back.

𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊, 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟎

When you’d floated the idea by Bradley about visiting him at UVA for Spring Break during your weekly phone call, you’d been braced for the disappointment of him already having plans. It was his Senior year, it wouldn’t surprise you if he wanted to go out with a bang and make the most of it. Especially since he would belong to the Navy soon enough.

But he’d taken you by surprise when he started enthusiastically listing off all the places he wanted to show you, planning out your trip like a well-seasoned travel agent before you’d even booked a plane ticket.

You’d started looking up airfare before you’d even hung up the phone. And thirty minutes later you had a confirmation email flagged in your inbox after elatedly charging that aisle seat to the credit card you only used for emergencies.

It had been close to a year since you’d last seen him. He usually spent his Winter Break with your family, but this year he’d stayed on campus for the holidays and it was the longest the two of you had ever been apart since you’d first met him when you were 8.

And maybe that’s why it took you so long to spot him in the Arrivals area of the Charlottesville-Albemarle Airport.

You’ve always prided yourself in being able to pick Bradley out of a crowd anywhere, but in your cursory glance you hadn’t recognized the tall, broad guy with the UVA shirt pulled taut across his chest and wearing a baseball hat backward on his head. It wasn’t until your third searching pass that you’d caught the lips that were quirked up in amusement and those familiar brown eyes trained on you as he leaned ever-so-casually against the faux wood paneling on the wall waiting for you to notice him.

He’d filled out in the months since you’d last seen him. He was more toned than you remembered him being with definition in places where there hadn’t been before. His face had more distinct angles and less baby fat cushioned curves. Still a bit boyish, but he was well on his way to looking like a man.

Bradley raised his hand like he was going to wave, but then he’d mimicked casting a fishing line in your direction and reeling it in. And it was so endearingly stupid- so him- that you couldn’t help but take the bait and made your way towards him with the biggest grin on your face.

You’d ignored the jittery flutter in your stomach as you’d weaved between people and luggage. You’ve never been nervous around your best friend before. There was something that had on your mind a lot as the days to your visit inched closer, but you’d shoved that out of your mind, because you were finally standing in front of him in person for the first time in months. 

“Hey, kid,” he’d greeted you, taking your bag, “Charlottesville must have known you were coming, because she’s going to be sunny for you all week.” As soon as you were within arm’s reach, he tugged you right into his chest for a hug. You could feel the unspoken I missed you in the way he squeezed you just that bit tighter before releasing you.

Then he was dropping an arm over your shoulders and steering you towards the exit and driving you into town in the beat-up car he’d bought after selling his prized Montero, the car that Mav had given him for his birthday.

You’re only there for a week and Bradley doesn’t waste a single moment of it.

After dropping your things off in his dorm room, he takes you straight to campus where he gives you the Official Bradley Bradshaw Certified UVA Tour. He buys you lunch from one of the food trucks in the Amphitheater “for sustenance” before taking you to see the highlights. You start with the Rotunda and then the academic village, making a special pitstop at the Whispering Wall for you to tell it a secret. And then he takes you on a more historical tour, like showing you the exact route he used to streak The Lawn and pointing out the place he’d puked after his 21st birthday.

It’s clear he’d put so much thought into your visit because it seems like there is never a down moment. By the end of the third day you’re more surprised that you don't wake up every morning with a printed itinerary on your pillow.

He sneaks you into the Slaughter Rec Center to rock climb, claiming he had a person on the inside with the right connections. But really from what you could tell, the pretty girl at the check-in counter clearly had a crush on him. He takes you to the batting cages he likes to go to before Dead Week, and spends the time there equal parts making fun of your power swing and trying to fix it.

You get your revenge the next day standing outside of the imposing columns and massive doors to the Fralin Art Museum. Skeptically eyeing the sculpture in the front of the building that kind of looked like a giant wisdom tooth, you mentioned, “I didn’t realize you’d become such a patron of the cultural arts.”

“Hey now, I like artsy shit,” he’d said, only mildly affronted.

You snorted at that. “Is there an exhibit on beer pong and blunt rolling you wanted to see?” Through the window you’d spotted some large landscape oil paintings in ornate gilded frames and carved marble busts of what you assumed were probably of some of the Founding Fathers.

“You just missed that one, it was last month,” Bradley lobbed back, opening the door for you.

“What a pity,” you’d said with a dramatic sigh, “Guess we’ll have to settle for some tasteful nudes instead.”

“If we’re lucky,” he’d muttered under his breath, as you passed under his arm.

And then you’d felt the corners of your mouth kick up.

Turning around you’d pressed your finger to his chest, whispering so the person behind the ticket desk didn’t hear you, “Twenty bucks says you don’t make it thirty minutes in there.”

He narrowed his eyes, taking in your sly grin, “You’re on, kid.”

It’s the easiest $20 you’ve ever made.

The two of you call it a truce only after he tips your kayak into the still chilly Rivanna River.

Later that night, he takes you to a party on “Mad Bowl” that one of his frat friends was hosting. The backyard was all strung up with red and green Christmas lights like they had been too lazy to take them down after the holidays and decided it added to the outdoor ambiance instead of packing them away.

He was still just as protective over you as he was back in high school. Spending the whole night keeping an eye on you and handing you drinks that he’d uncapped himself using the opener that he had on his keychain, the one that still had the little fighter jet charm you’d given him ages ago dangling from it.

The days pass all too quickly as he shows you all of his favorite spots.

You knew UVA wasn’t where he’d originally wanted to be- where he thought he’d be- but you were happy that he seemed happy here.

But in between the late-night microwave ramen and movie watching and crossing off all the things on Bradley’s Spring Break To-Do List, there’d been something you’d been wanting to talk to him about. But you were having so much fun with him, you’d missed your best friend over those long months apart, and you didn’t want to ruin the time you had left with him here.

It lingered at the back of your mind like a phantom hair that you can feel, but can’t ever seem to brush off no matter how many times you attempt to. You felt like you were waiting for the right time that you weren’t sure would ever come. And if you were being honest, you weren’t entirely sure you would even be brave enough to ask if the time came.

The two of you had woken up way before the sun this morning.

If anyone other than Bradley had asked you to wake up before 5 AM to go hike to watch the sunrise, you would have laughed at them. But because it was Bradley, you’d set the alarm without comment. Even though he did have to gently pry you out of his roommate’s bed- with the fresh sheets he told you he bought especially for your visit- and lace up your shoes for you.

The views at Humpback Rock had been worth the hour hike up to the outcrop of craggy rocks. The sunrise painted them a stunning shade of soft orange as the rays illuminated evergreen covered hills and valleys that extended in front of you to the skyline. You and Bradley watched it in silence, shoulders pressed against each other  as you took it all in.

You’re cozied up on your bed for the week, flipping through a book you’d brought with you, but hadn’t touched at all until now when Bradley comes back from the showers. His hair is still damp and the ends are starting to curl a bit.  

He drops a Styrofoam cup of coffee on the nightstand next to you.

You hadn’t been sure what rooming with him would be like, the two of you together 24/7 since his roommate had left to go home for the break.  But it felt like you were two kids at sleepaway camp getting away with mischief rather than two broke college students only pretending to get away with mischief.

He sits down at the edge of his bed, his elbows resting on his thighs, “So.”

“So?” you repeat, blowing on the hot coffee before taking a sip.

“Are you going to tell me what’s been up with you?”

You wince, and it’s not because the coffee tastes like tar. 

“What do you mean?” you try to ask casually.

Bradley gives you a look that says you don’t fool me, kid. “You’ve been squirrely. I didn’t want to press it, but I can tell there’s something on your mind.” He takes a sip of his own milky battery acid. “Are classes going better since you switched majors?”

You nod, looking anywhere else other than at him.

“How are things with your Dad?”

You offer him a shrug.

He sighs your name in exasperation. You can tell he is trying to tamper his frustration at your lack of cooperation.

“Is it a guy?” Bradley tries again.

You swear you feel your heart stop, because you knew what you wanted to ask him, but you didn’t know how he was going to take it.

You fiddle with a string on his roommate’s comforter. “There’s something I wanted to talk to you about,” you admit, tentatively, “But I’m nervous.”

Bradley’s eyebrows pull together as he sets his coffee aside, “C’mon, it’s just me. You can talk to me about anything.”

“It’s more of a question.” One you’re still deflecting from asking.

“Ok, well you know you can ask me anything.” His tiny dorm room feels even smaller as the two of you try to read the other’s face.

Taking a deep breath, you ask the question that’s been rattling around in your brain for weeks.

“Bradley, I was wondering if you’d be my first?”

Less than ten words. That’s all it takes to tilt Bradley’s world off its axis.

He’s loved getting to show you around UVA this week. It wasn’t where he thought he’d end up, but he hadn’t lost sight of where he was going. He was going to be a Naval Aviator one way or another. He just also got to have a normal college experience too, one he’d been excited to share with you.

Bradley had originally been invited to go stay with one of his friends at his family’s beach house, but when you called and asked about coming to visit Charlottesville, it was an easy choice for him. He’d pick you every time.

It had been even better getting to cross off some of the things on the bucket list he’d made for his Senior Year with you in tow, like the hike he’d taken you on this morning.

He loves the views from up there and thought it would be something you’d like too, but he’d never done the hike early enough to catch the sunrise before. It was actually something he was planning on going the morning of graduation as a symbolic way to end his time at UVA, but getting to do it with you was special in its own way.

And while he’d caught you lost in thought more than a few times over the last few days as he showed you around, he never in a million years would have ever expected you to ask him that.

Bradley knows all the words you just used, but they don’t make sense to him in that order.

His brain is working in overdrive trying to figure out if there is any possible way he could have misinterpreted you.

“Your first…”

You take another deep breath and tip your chin up in resolve before looking him dead in the eye, there’s so much vulnerability reflected in them, “I haven’t had sex before, Bradley. And I’m really hoping that my first time can be with you.”

Bradley wants to tell you to put your Styrofoam cup down because he’s worried the tight grip you have on it might crush it, but he feels like the wind has been knocked out of him.

He didn’t realize when his leg started bouncing until he sees you glance down at it.

Shooting to his feet and off his bed, he goes to lean against his recently decluttered desk. There’s too much restless energy coursing through him to just sit like he isn’t completely reeling. 

“Shouldn’t you want to do this with someone special? Like with rose petals and all that shit?” He scrubs a hand over his face. Rose petals and all that shit? God, he sounds like such a fucking dumbass, but he’s struggling to keep up.

And if he’s being entirely honest, he’s pretty surprised to learn you’re still a virgin. Not that there’s anything wrong with it, but he knows you’ve had at least one serious boyfriend since you’ve gone to college. He figured that you got asked out all the time. He saw the way that some of the guys in his buddy’s frat were looking at the pretty girl with the dimples and big smile.

The girl who just asked him to be her first.

He hates the way your shoulders have slumped forward, like you’re trying not to cave in on yourself, “So, you don’t want to?”

“I didn’t say that.” His answer takes him by surprise.

The only other sound in the room other than his pounding heart is the whir of the air circulating in his dorm. 

“Would it help to make a pro con list?” you offer, less than helpfully with a little shrug.

“Jesus Christ,” Bradley mutters under his breath, looking up at the speckled ceiling trying to decode the flecks like tea leaves. “She’s cracking jokes like she didn’t ask me to make her come.”

“Technically, I didn’t say anything about that. I just asked you to be my first.”

“I’m not taking your virginity and not giving you an orgasm,” he states, and your eyes get wide. He runs his hands through his hair. “Sex makes things complicated, kid. We’ve got a good friendship.”

You sit up straighter on his roommate’s bed and bring your knees to your chest. It exposes the backs of your thighs and he has to shake the mental images of skin on skin out of his head.

There’s a look on your face that tells him you feel ridiculous even asking him, “Do you think you’re going to fall in love with me or something?”

“No,” Bradley says, honestly.

He knows you’re just trying to make a point.

The two of you have been friends for over a decade. He knows he cares about you- he always has- but he couldn’t imagine what anything other than just friendship would look like with you.

You nod in agreement, like you had been anticipating the answer before you’d even asked him the question.

“And do you think I’m going to fall in love with you?” you ask, your head tilting to the side.

He doesn’t even blink, “You can do better than me.”

And he means it.

Even if there was something more between the two of you, you’ve always been too good for him. And knowing him, he’d find a way to fuck it up. You’re the last person in the world he’d ever want to hurt. He’d let you down before, he doesn’t want to do it ever again.

You shoot him a disappointed look, like you don’t like hearing him say that about himself. And he’s oddly touched that you’re defending him against himself. 

“You’d literally be doing me a favor.”

Bradley is still surprised that he hasn’t ended this conversation yet. The two of you were supposed to go to the movies, but that definitely wasn’t happening now.

“I’m not saying no,” he says, “But I need you to help me understand. Why me? Why now?”

“Bradley, I want it to be with you because there’s no one else I’ll ever feel as comfortable with as I do with you,” you explain.

He watches as you unfold yourself and climb off the bed, coming to stand in front of him. You gingerly reach out and put your hand on his forearm, like you don’t want to startle him. Not that he’d be able to move anyways since it feels like the soles of his feet are cemented to the floor.

“I keep waiting for it to not feel like such a big thing, but every time it seems like it’s going to happen, I freeze. And I know you’d take care of me, and I’m not talking about orgasms.” You stumble over the word a bit, not fully meeting his eyes as you say it. “It’s scary enough as a girl and I’m worried I’m going to be too in my head with anyone else. But I also don’t want to look back and have any regrets, and I know I wouldn’t have any with you.”

The mention of regrets makes his stomach twinge. His heart feels like it’s hammering in his chest. He doesn’t know what to say.

You are looking at him with such open sincerity. He has never been good with talking about his feelings, he’s always been the type to bottle things up, while you have always worn your heart on your sleeve. It was just another way that you were braver than him.

“I know it’s a lot,” you say, letting go of him to take a step back, like you want to give him breathing room, “So if it’s too big of an ask. Or if it’s not something you’re comfortable with-”

Bradley shakes his head cutting you off, “It’s not that at all, kid. I just haven’t done this before.” Your eyebrow scrunches together in confusion. “I mean, I have,” he corrects, “But it’s not the same. All the girls I’ve been with had already had experience. And if we were going to do this, I would want to make sure it’s as nice for you as it can be.”

“So you’d be my first and I’d be yours? Well, kind of.” You give him a little smile, it’s a shy but hopeful thing. There’s only a hint of your dimples, but it’s enough. And he feels that practical part of him that had been holding back soften at the sight of it.

He doesn’t think he’s ever said no to you, excluding the times you tried to get him to give you his beer at the house parties he took you to in high school, and that was more out of self-preservation from a healthy fear of your mom than anything else.

When you wanted to learn how to drive a stick shift? He took you to the abandoned parking lot, it didn’t matter that you didn’t have your learner’s permit yet. When you wanted to learn how to throw a punch? He was making sure you knew not to tuck your thumb under your fingers, so that you didn’t break your own thumb instead of someone’s nose.

He’s always had your back and you’ve had his. That’s how it was between the two of you.

You’ve already said it, but he needs to hear it again, “You really want to do it?”

“I really want it to be you, Bradley. I really want to do this with you. I trust you the most.”

He’s always been willing to help you with anything you’ve ever asked of him, why should this be any different? What’s a couple orgasms between friends?

“Ok,” Bradley nods. If it’s to reassure you or himself, he couldn’t say. “I’ll do it. We can do it.”

Your eyebrows raise in surprise, like you were fully prepared for him to let you down gently, “Really?”

You didn’t ask for his why he was agreeing, but he was going to give it to you anyway.

“I don’t think I’ve told you this, but I lost mine to Samantha Prescod after the game against Centennial that got us a spot at State that year,” he waits until he sees the recognition cross your face before continuing, “But I had also just learned about my mom’s diagnosis and I was trying to find anything I could do to not think about it.” He rubs at a spot underneath his collarbone, it never got any easier talking about his mom. “I think she assumed that I’d done it before, because we didn’t really talk about it. She was there and into it, so it just sort of happened. Actually, I’m pretty sure she only slept with me because she wanted to make her ex-boyfriend jealous, because they got back together like three days later.”

It’s probably for the best that Samantha Prescod lives on the other side of the country now because you look livid. Your eyes spark with anger and disbelief on his behalf.

“It was years ago, it’s fine, kid” he shrugs, trying to brush off your concern. “But if I had a do-over, I don’t know if I’d make the same choice again. And that’s not something I’d ever want for you.” You deserve the rose petals, but he’ll do his best for you. “So we can do it, but I have one condition.”

The relief on your face and the way the tension in your shoulder releases only solidifies his decision.

“Tell me,” you say, taking a half-step towards him, “I want you to be comfortable too.”

Bradley pushes off his desk and meets you the rest of the way, “If you even think you’re feeling uncomfortable- about any of it- I need you to tell me. And we’ll stop and figure out where to go from there. If it’s a change of position, if it’s a full stop and order pizza instead, we’ll do that.” He pauses and reaches out to tip your chin up. “I’ll do whatever you need, got it?”

You throw your arms around him, and his wrap around you just as easily. Your hair smells like the travel sized shampoo he’d picked up for you, figuring you wouldn’t want to use his 2-in-1. You murmur your thank you into his shirt followed by a fuck Samantha Prescod that makes him squeeze you just a bit tighter to him in affection.

When you step back and look at him, your lips twitch upwards, “What’s with the look, Bradshaw? Don’t tell me you’re going to lie back and think of England?”

That makes him chuckle, your joke lightening the mood in only the way that you can do. He rolls his eyes in equal parts exasperation and fondness.

“God, I haven’t been this nervous since I lost my own virginity. I was so stressed I was going to blow my load in two pumps and lose my street cred.”

You snort and send him a smirk, “Well, you must have done just fine. I overheard some glowing reviews in the girl’s bathroom on more than one occasion.”

“I maybe lasted ten trusts, but I had the good sense to eat her out after,” he admits, and then tacks on for good measure, “I’ve gotten better since then.”

“What a stud,” you tease.

This is easier, this feels like the two of you. This should be fun, it shouldn’t feel serious. He can make it good for you.

You look up at him shyly from under your lashes, “So how do we do this?”

He feels like he only just wrapped his head around the idea of it, but now he was facing the very real possibility of seeing you very naked very soon.

“You want to do it now?” Bradley blinks.

“I mean, if you’re up for it.” You scrunch your nose when you realize you’ve made a terrible double entendre. “No pun intended, I promise.”  

He wipes his hands on his pants.

“You sure?” he asks again.

“I’m sure, Bradley. As long as you are too.”

He nods, “Then I guess we just…”

He’s not sure where he was going to go with that. But he’s spared from being roasted by you for making some sure to be lame birthday suit joke because you’re untying the bow on the soft lounge shorts you’d thrown on after your shower from the hike, and all the words get trapped in his throat.

You don’t look at Bradley as you slide your shorts down your legs. And you definitely don’t look at him when you pull your shirt over your head, leaving you in only a soft green mesh bra and your cotton underwear. They’re mismatched, but sex with Bradley wasn’t originally on the Spring Break To-Do List agenda for today.

In fact, you hadn’t even been sure you were going to go through with asking him until he brought up the point that he knew you had something on your mind because you apparently had no poker face.

While it felt like you had a swarm of butterflies whirling in your stomach, you also knew wholeheartedly that this was the right choice for you. Everything he had said had solidified that for you.

You weren’t sure how you were ever going to thank him for this, but you had a lifetime of friendship with Bradley to figure it out.

His room cast in the soft afternoon light, the blinds only partly closed. There are little streaks of gold that line the plaid comforter on his bed. He’d been right, Charlottesville had stayed sunny just for you.

As you climb into it and situate yourself against his pillows, you can help but notice just how much his bed smells like him. It’s not the spicy scent you associated with the High School version of him. The woodsy and warm scent embedded in the threads of his sheets suits this grown up version of him.

You feel equal parts overdressed and underdressed in your bra and underwear. You know the latter are going to come off eventually, so you make a split-second decision to just take them off yourself under his covers. The idea of Bradley helping you to pull them off later seems like it would be too intimate based on the way the thought of it makes your cheeks heat up.

It’s practical, you’re being practical, you think to yourself.

You chance a peek at him and are surprised to see that he hasn’t budged an inch. It’s almost like he is waiting for you to get completely settled before he dares to move a muscle. His eyes are trained on the pile of your clothes on the floor, he looks lost in thought.

“Bradley?”

The sound of your voice seems to kickstart him into action.

He shucks off his shirt in that kind of reckless way that seems to be ingrained in boys and then unbuttons his pants. You’re torn between feeling like you should give him privacy and wanting to watch. What you were expecting is the way he takes the time to pick his clothes up before folding them over the back of the chair at his desk.

Your mouth goes dry as you take in the sight of his body, the diffused light perfectly outlines the shape of him. His broad shoulders are rounded with the muscles he’s gained from whatever exercises the NROTC has been putting him through. Your eyes dip down to his defined chest and over the ridges of his abs. You’ve seen him in swim trunks plenty of times, but seeing the way the muscles of his thick thighs fill out the black boxer briefs he was wearing was entirely new to you.

Bradley approaches you and then pauses as he bends down to collect your pile of clothes on the floor, his hand hesitating only for a second when he reaches for your underwear. He drapes all of your things on top of his on the chair and makes his way back to you.

The gesture makes you melt a little like a soft serve ice cream cone on a summer afternoon.

You lift the corner of the cover for Bradley and he climbs in next to you. You move closer to the wall, trying to make more room for the bulk of him in his small bed, and he shifts in even closer into you until your bodies pressed tight against one another. The curves and angles of the two of you slotting together like pieces of a puzzle.

It feels like the two of you are teetering there on the edge of something. You both know exactly where it’s going, but are unsure of how to make it from Point A to Point B. Both waiting on the other person to make the first move.

He rests his warm hand on your stomach, the muscles there jumping on their own under his touch in anticipation. Your faces are close since you’re sharing his pillow. His brown eyes are searching yours, probably looking for any sign of hesitation that you don’t feel.

“Tell me how you’re feeling.” It’s not a question, but a request.

“Overwhelmed,” you admit, “But in a good way.” He runs his palm lightly up your stomach and back down, soothingly.

“Good, that’s good,” Bradley says, clearing his throat, “You’re supposed to feel a little ‘overwhelmed, but in a good way.’” You feel your lips pull up at his gentle teasing.

He smiles softly at you. His face has always been so familiar to you. The pink from his scars have finally faded, but you wonder when his eyes start crinkling around the corners.

You let go of the comforter to run a finger down the top of his nose, “I don’t know how this has stayed so straight.” He’d been in more than a couple fights in his teen years, including one that had sent him through a sliding glass door.

“Probably the combination of a little luck and the fact that none of those guys could throw a punch,” Bradley smirks. He shifts on his side, propping himself up on an elbow looking down at you, still running his hand along your stomach. “What have you done so far?”

His fingertips circle your bellybutton and your stomach swoops like it’s on the swing carousel ride at the fair.

“Some over the clothes stuff…” you stammer. You’re having trouble focusing because all your attention is on his big hand and how it feels against your oversensitive skin. “And I have a vibrator, but ah…”

You’re so keenly aware of his hand. With every lazy circle he makes, he has you wondering if this is going to be the one where he finally moves his hand lower. That part of you in flutters in expectation because you know it’s coming.

You let out a shaky huff when his fingers trails back up your stomach.

“What is it?” Bradley’s hand stops moving. “What are you thinking?”

“Honestly?” you say, trying not to squirm, “I’m getting really horny and you keep teasing me.”

He presses his lips together like he’s trying not to laugh at your overshare, and there’s amusement in his eyes.

“You know, some people call it foreplay,” he drawls. You’d roll your eyes but his fingertips are by your bellybutton again and you want him to keep going. “You ready for more?” You nod a few times because if he doesn’t touch you soon you might just crawl out of your skin. “Ok, gonna stop ‘teasing’ you now.”

This time his hand doesn’t stop at your bellybutton, it keeps moving down, down.

You stutter over a breath when Bradley’s fingers touch your clit. You feel yourself melt a little further into his mattress. He’s making easy circles, letting you get used to someone’s fingers other than your own on the most sensitive part of you. Your hands are clutching tightly to his comforter, unsure of what else to do with them.

“Spread your legs a little wider for me,” he murmurs. You feel your face heat up. He’d just given you a direction, but it sounds almost indecent coming out of his mouth.

You shift, moving your legs apart further for him, until he secures your left between his own, opening you up even more. You know you’re wet and now he does too. Bradley’s fingers slide easily over you as he increases the pressure on your clit. You can feel the intensity of his gaze on you watching for your reaction as he figures out what you like the most.

It doesn’t take him long to learn your body. You don’t know whether to be impressed with him or embarrassed with yourself at how quickly he’s worked you up.

Your breathing feels so loud in your ears in the quiet room, every breath and sigh is amplified. There’s a certain thrill in not knowing how he’s going to touch you next, your own fingers pale in comparison now.

His warm breath coasts down the side of your neck causing you to shiver at the sensation. It makes goosebumps break out along your arms and your nipples pull taut.

He notices. Of course he notices.

“Are you cold?” His voice is low in your ear.

“No, I-” Oh god, you’re right there. “B-bradley, I’m-” You’ve made yourself orgasm plenty of times, but you’ve never shared that part of yourself with anyone else before. No one knows what you sound like or what you look like when you come. But now, Bradley was going to have the piece of you too. A whine escapes you without your permission.

“It’s ok, kid, I’ve got you.”

You’re seeking and searching, but it’s Bradley’s fingers that have the answer.

And you come with your stomach twitching and hips jerking as he murmurs praise in your ear.

His fingers slow down, featherlight on your clit, but your heart is still racing when he rasps, “There’s one, you up for another?”

Bradley loves that moment during sex when he hears that first gasp or moan. He loves learning what sounds of satisfaction he can pull from his partner. He loves knowing he earned it. But he never in his life could have ever anticipated hearing those sounds from you.

In his bed. Because of him.

He didn’t expect the lick of heat that curled up his spine at the shape of your legs and the curve of your ass as you were stepping out of your shorts. He’d never seen anything so strangely endearing as it was watching you shimmy your underwear off under the shield of his covers.

Every hitch in your breath made his blood run hotter in his veins. He was trying to control his cock, but he’d started getting hard the second you’d pulled your shirt off. Your bra was some kind of sheer thing that left nothing to the imagination, and while he wasn’t trying to check you out- because that’s not how it was between the two of you- he couldn’t help the way his eyes flickered down.

You’re slippery, wet, and warm. And he knows he can make you come again.

“Do you want me to use my fingers now?”

You crack an eye open at him, it’s the first time you’ve opened your eyes since he first touched you. Your eyes are bright in that way that only comes with an orgasm. “I thought you already were.”

“Such a smartass,” he grins.

Bradley changes the unhurried circles he’d been making on your clit to the upstroke that made your hips jerk up into his hand the first time he’d tried it. The little noises you’re making have him fighting the urge to grind himself against you for some relief of his own. He’s still got your knee tucked between his own; where there had been a hint of polite space between your bodies, the way you’re writhing now has him pressed up against your hip.

You gasp, breathily, “Oh, you’re hard.” The disbelief is evident in your voice, but it’s the look in your eyes that he doesn’t know what to make of, something like surprise.

He’s been trying to be a gentleman, this is about you and not him. There might not be anything romantic happening between the two of you, but this was hot and he was more than a little turned on. And he knows you are too because he can feel how wet you are under his fingers.

“’Course I am,” Bradley says, nudging his nose against your temple, “I’ve got a pretty girl in my bed half naked.” He didn’t want you to feel like you were in this on your own, so he lightly rocks against you. He wants you to feel him, he wants you to know he is into this too. “Are you ready more?”

“I’m ready, I want more,” you confirm, wrapping your hand around his bicep.

Your breath hitches as he teases you with just the tip of his finger.

He’s been told before he has big hands and thick fingers, he’s always taken it as a compliment in the past, but now he’s scanning your face for any trace of discomfort as he sinks one into you.

Your eyebrows twitch then smooth out and your mouth drops open as he starts pumping his finger into you in a smooth rhythm.

“That feels nice,” you sigh, airily.

He knows you like it when your hips tip up just a fraction. His comforter is bunched around your waist and your nipples are peaked against the see-through fabric of your bra. He gets his thumb on your clit and you whimper as you tentatively roll your hips against his fingers.

Bradley hums his approval, “Atta girl. There you go, find what feels good for you.” His voice sounds low even to his own ears, a throaty rumble. He feels you clench around his fingers and it sets his pulse racing. It’s a piece of information he tucks away for himself.

He’s gentle on your clit, but now that he knows you’re into it he’s setting a more purposeful pace with his fingers.

You’ve got your bottom lip pinned between your teeth, like you’re trying to swallow down your sounds. He didn’t realize how much he liked hearing these new sounds from you until you started trying to muffle them. On the next slide of his finger into you, he knows exactly what he’s looking for.

You suck in a sharp breath of surprise when he finds it.

“Is that the right spot, kid?” He sounds so smug. You curse and your hand clutches at his shoulder. “You want to try a second finger?” he murmurs into your ear.

“Yes,” you rock into his hand, “Yes, please.”

“Whatever you want, Miss Manners.” His chest feels like he’s taken a shot of Fireball. “You’re so polite when you’re trying to get your way.”

“I’m always polite,” you challenged weakly, pressing your head further into his pillow.

“Mhm,” he indulges, fondly, “You’re the sweetest girl I know.”

And then he fills you with two fingers.

“Jesus, Bradley,” you gasp, offering more of yourself to him.

Your nails dig into the muscle of his shoulder as he lets your whimpers and whines guide his hands.

The two of you have your eyes fixed on the way the tendons of the visible part of his forearm are flexing before it disappears under the covers as he works you.

Bradley curls his fingers into that spongy part of you and your hand flies to his wrist, gripping him tight. It makes him pause, worried that he might have pushed you too far too fast.

“No, no. D-don’t stop,” you plead, desperately, “I’m so close. Keep going, please.” You squeeze his wrist encouragingly.

“Sorry, sorry,” he soothes. He focuses his efforts on that spot again now that he knows you weren’t wanting him to slow down, but rather trying to hold him in place. His fingers inside of you and his thumb on your clit working in tandem to get you there again.

“I just- yes. Like that. Oh fuck. Keep doing that. Oh my god. Please, Bradley.”

He’s heard you say his name a lot of different ways, but never like this.

Your back arches and you twist yourself towards him, burying your face against him and keening into the hollow of his throat as you come around his fingers.

You jerk and writhe into his hand, your knee slips free of his and your thighs clamp together around him. Bradley rolls off the arm he’d been leaning on and brings it to cradle the back of your head, pulling you closer and holding you to him as he steadily works you through it until you’re loose-limbed in his arms.

He waits until your rapid pants have evened out before he slips his fingers from you. The displeased sound that you make makes the corners of his mouth twitch. He should have known you’d be bossy. He rubs gentle circles into the divots at the base of your neck as you come down.

Bradley can feel your lips graze the side of his neck when you finally speak, “So, um, let me know if you need a letter of recommendation or anything. I’d be happy to pass one along to your next partner.” You languidly prop yourself up on his chest and he notes with pride that you look a little flushed. “But, seriously, I get it now.”

He huffs a laugh as he toys with the end of your hair, “I’m glad it lived up to the hype. Well, at least that part of it.”

You press your lips together like you’re deciding something, tracing idle shapes on his stomach, and he can’t decide if he thinks you’re doing it without realizing it or if you’re the one doing the teasing this time. Your eyes flick down to his visibly hard cock and he feels his face heat up, “Can I?”

“Do you want to?” Bradley wants this experience to be everything you need and want it to be, but something about the tables turning here and the idea of you being the one to touch him like that makes his heart pound.

“I want to make you feel good too,” you softly tell him, resting your chin on your shoulder. The tender way you’re looking at him makes his teeth ache.

“Ok, but only for a little bit,” he agrees. Bradley knows he’s walking a tightrope with this, he’s aching and more than ready to be touched, but he doesn’t want to come all over your hand.

He plants his feet into his mattress and lifts his hips enough to pull off his boxer briefs, sighing in relief as his cock bobs free.

“That can’t be average,” you mutter under your breath.

He doesn’t know if you meant to have said it out loud but he smirks all the same, “I’ve never been average a day in my life, kid, Grade A student here.”

A groan slips out of him as your tentative fingers grasp his cock. There’s a lack of finesse in the way you touch him, your hand isn’t nearly as well-practiced as his own. He wraps his hand over yours, guiding your strokes as he shows you just what he likes.

“You can grip it a little firmer,” he coaches. You nod studiously, like you’re going to be tested on it later. Together the two of you work him from root to tip.

Bradley had never given much thought to his size until now. He knew he was big, but seeing that your thumb couldn’t reach the tips of your fingers when your hand was curved around him was an ego boost he didn’t know he needed.

You get more confident with every glide up and down the length of him. Your tricky thumb sweeps over the tip, collecting what precum had gathered there, and it makes your hand slide easier over him. When he accidentally thrusts into your hand, you grin and there are those dimples again.

“Ok, ok,” he blows out a shaky breath, stilling your hand with his. “We gotta stop or I’m going to come. And I’m not about to be a one pump chump.”

“It sounded like you’re more of a ten pump chump, if I remember correctly,” you tease, looking all too pleased with yourself. “Don’t worry, Bradshaw, your street cred is safe with me.”

He shakes his head in amused disbelief, “You’re such a goddamn menace. I knew I shouldn’t have told you that part.” He surprises the both of you when he wraps an arm around you and rolls to pin you under him.

And it’s like all the air is sucked out of the room because your thighs are cradling his hips and his cock is resting heavy on your stomach.

Neither one of you dare to move. He’d give anything to know what you’re thinking right now, he feels out of his depth as he watches you watching him.

His tongue feels thick in his mouth, “Are you on-”

You nod before he even finishes the question.

“Do you have-”

He nods before you finish yours.

“What did you promise me?” he prompts, squeezing the dip of your waist.

You hold up your pinky to him, “I’ll tell you.” He wraps his own crooked one around yours and gives it a shake.

Bradley doesn’t know what comes over him, but he drops a kiss to your shoulder as he reaches over you into the drawer of his nightstand to fish out what he needs. He’s thankful when you don’t comment on it because he wouldn’t even know how to explain it.

He leans back on his knees and rolls the condom on with practiced ease, then flicks open the cap to the bottle of lube he’s also grabbed and drizzles it over his cock.

“Am I not…” you trail off. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard you sound this shy with him before.

“You’re plenty wet,” he assures you, pumping himself- once, twice- just enough to coat himself, “But this’ll be good too. I think you’ll like it.”

Bradley settles back over you, one arm braced by your head and the other on your hip, as your hands come up to rest lightly on either side of his ribcage. He rocks against you to demonstrate; the head of his cock nudges your clit with each silky pass. You exhale heavily at the sensation as he eases you into the motion of it, as he shows you what it’s like with another person.

You’re holding him close, and in just a moment the two of you will be the closest two people can be.

He makes only enough room to reach down between your bodies, only looks away from your face long enough to line himself up with you. There is such trust in your eyes as you gaze up at him, it’s not something Bradley takes for granted.

You nod, your fingers stroking his sides.

God, does he want this to be good for you.

He takes a breath.

And then he’s shifting forward and pressing in.

Bradley thrusts into you with all the careful gentleness you’d expect from him.

His thumb skimming along your forehead as he pushes in, in, in.

When he found that spot inside of you with his fingers, you thought you were going to fly away from the intensity of it, but then he’d pulled you into the safety of his arms and you felt like you could fall apart because he’d be keeping the pieces of you together.

He’s been so good to you. He is so good to you. He’s the best person you know.

The more of him he gives you, the less you feel like you can catch your breath.

You feel hot, hot all over. And much fuller than you’ve ever been.

Some sound must make its way out of you because Bradley offers you a low soothing noise before you feel his lightly chapped lips against your temple.

There’s something about this that reminds you of the time he tried to teach you how to skateboard. Always waited until you told him you were ready, until you found your balance. He’d held your hand as you cautiously rolled along the sidewalk, you were less worried about falling with him by your side. Only this time, his hand is on your waist and the only movements are his hips against yours as he rocks into you.

Little by little. Inch by inch.

You clutch at his biceps at the slight stinging sensation and you feel him hesitate.

“It’s just a lot,” you whisper. His fingers flex on your waist.

“You’re doing so good, just a bit more,” Bradley murmurs, encouragingly.

There’s pressure, there’s a give, and then there’s relief when his hips finally, finally meet yours.

“Shit,” he curses under his breath.

Your eyes had flickered shut somewhere along the way. You open them to see that Bradley’s face and chest are flushed pink, the muscle of his jaw flexing. The furrow between his eyebrows is so deep that you release your grip on him to smooth out the lines with an unsteady fingertip.

He reads the question in your eyes.

“You’re just really tight,” he grits out, voice strained.

You assumed that was a good thing, but he’s holding himself so tense above you that now you’re not sure. “Do I-,” you fumble over the words, “Does this feel good for you?”

He huffs an incredulous laugh, and brushes back some hair from off your face, “You feel really fucking good, sweet-”

Your whimper cuts him off when he pulls out a fraction and then pushes back in.

His brown eyes take you in as he does it again, more this time. Pulling out just a bit- just enough- and then filling you again. The discomfort fading more with each thrust as he guides his hips to yours until yours are tilting up to meet his seeking more.

It’s a conversation between your bodies, the give and the take of it all as Bradley introduces you to this new unspoken language. You feel yourself flutter around his cock, stretched wider than you’ve ever been.

You feel that heat spreading underneath your skin again as he surely and steadily pumps into you. It feels like your nerves are on fire. You didn’t expect to even come once and you’re well on your way to a third.

He reaches down and hooks your leg over his hip. His hand slides up along the outside of your thigh and under your ass, tilting your hips up towards his even more. He’s so much deeper like this. Your hands slide into his hair, tugging at his curls.

“Bradley, I-I think… I feel-”

 “You’re gonna come,” he rasps, nodding at you. Encouraging, coaxing.

He grinds his pelvis against your clit with every deliciously slow roll into you.

Your mouth drops open at the feel of it, it’s better than anything you’ve ever imagined. You don’t think your faces have ever been closer than they are now. Bradley is breathing your air, and you’re breathing his. Bradley’s pupils are blown wide, his heavy-lidded eyes are locked on yours. You didn’t know there could be so many shades of brown. His curls are a mess and it’s all because of you. He licks his lips and your breath catches in your throat when his eyes dart down to your parted mouth.

His next thrust into you hits that spot inside of you just so right that it has you gasping.

It’s so good, it’s too good, it’s overwhelming.

You wrap your arms around his neck clinging to him, your face buried against him. Bradley drops his head to your shoulder, you feel his lips brush against your clavicle. Your head moves away on instinct, making more room for him if he wants to do it again.

You get lost in the feeling of his cock hitting you in all the places you’ve heard about and read about, but have never felt for yourself until now. He’s still got your ass gripped in his hand, whereas your hands can’t stay in one spot. They’re tangled in his hair, running over his shoulders and down his abs, gliding over his back aided by the sheen of sweat he’s worked up.

You’re not trying to hold yourself back, but it feels like you’re standing on the tallest diving board at the pool, your toes curled around the edge, but still too nervous about the drop to jump.

“C’mon, kid. You’re right there,” he breathes hard, “I need you to come for me. Just one more.”

He gets his fingers back on your clit and it’s the end of you. Your back is arching so much you think you might snap. Your toes curl so tights they may never unfurl. The force your orgasm overtakes you, demanding everything you have up to offer and then some.

You hear Bradley’s moan as you pulse around his cock, trembling under him as the waves of pleasure wash over you. His hips stutter against yours, finally losing that steady rhythm he’d set, you pull him tighter to you and it’s not long until he comes too.

It’s all white noise. All you can feel is your heartbeat pounding, until little pieces of the world come back into focus.

The hum of the fan.

The beam of warm afternoon light through the blinds.

The smell of the now cold coffee on his nightstand.

In the after, you’re all too aware of every place your body is touching Bradley’s.

He’d somehow managed to roll on his back and had taken you with him. He was literally just inside of you, but yet it feels like your leg draped over his thigh is somehow more intimate. A prickly self-conscious feeling settles over you. Unsure of what the rules were for friends who just had sex, you attempt to peel yourself off of him, but the heavy arm over your waist keeps you in place.

“Come back here, kid,” Bradley mumbles, his eyes still closed, “I need to cuddle after I come, so I’m gonna need you to indulge me here for a moment.” He strokes a soothing hand down your back. And while he says it’s for him, you know he’s still trying to take care of you.

He hums when you lay back down. You set a hand on his chest. He reaches for it with his free one and threads your fingers together. It makes you melt further into him.

You feel a little different. But mostly, you feel like a weight you didn’t know you’d been carrying had been lifted off of you.

Your first time was everything you hoped it would be. You were safe and cared for, and you already knew, you’d never have any regrets about it. And it was all because of him.

“Thank you, Bradley,” you say, softly.

“Anything for you, kid.”

Your early morning catches up with you as you lay there, warm and secure. Your eyelids get heavier with each pass of Bradley’s hand along your spine. And you drift off to the sound of his heartbeat under your ear.

You’re still you. And Bradley is still Bradley.

It was just… something between friends.

A few hours later the two of you are still in his bed.

Only now you’re clothed and swapping the cartons of Chinese food that he’d ordered while you’d napped against his chest, and fighting over the fortune cookies watching some reruns of old sitcoms. You couldn’t hear their laugh tracks over your own.

The last couple of days you had at UVA fly by just as quickly.

You don’t know how, but the two of you managed to cross of all the things on his Spring Break To-Do List. And before you knew it you were back at the airport.

Bradley had insisted on walking you in, wanting to see you off.

Neither one of you has ever been good with goodbyes. So you don’t give him one, instead you reach for your bag and tell him, “Ok, see you in June.”

Bradley doesn’t let go, clearly confused, “What the hell are you talking about?”

You grin because it feels like a checkmate.

“You didn’t think you’d be getting that diploma all by yourself, did you?”

He looks thunderstruck.

You and your mom already had the plane tickets and hotel room booked. Your stepdad wouldn’t be able to come, but he was planning on sending your mom with one of the cakes from his family’s bakery. You’d been tasked with finding out what flavor, carrot cake or peanut butter- Bradley’s two favorites- but you could iron out the details with him later.

You’d had a busy week, plus it was more fun this way.

Bradley tugs you into his arms, yours wrap around him just as easily as they always have.

“June?” he asks into the crown of your head.

“June,” you promise.

And when he lets you go- for real this time- it’s with a smile that takes up his whole face.

He doesn’t say goodbye either, “Be good, kid. See you in June.”

𝐍𝐎𝐖

You avoid Rooster for the rest of the night.

And Jake too, for that matter. Bless Javy for finding ways to distract him because you could tell than man was chomping at the bit for more details. But you’d already given him more than enough.

You could have lied, you probably should have lied. It might have been easier than feeling like you’d hung up part of yourself on the drying line for everyone to see. But in that moment, the thought of lying and saying anyone else’s name other than Rooster’s had made your stomach turn.

Because it was the truth, he was your first, but he was also your best.

When you come out of the bathroom, there’s no missing Rooster. He’s leaning against the wall by the entrance. It takes him a moment to notice you since he looks lost in thought, but when he does you feel pinned to the wall by the intense look in his eyes.

He stands to his full height as you approach, you know he wants to talk about it.

You shake your head at him, “We don’t need to do this.”

“No, kid, we really do.” He takes you by the arm and leads you to a quieter spot away from everyone else.

“It was just a game,” you start before he can, “And now I know more about everyone’s sex life than I ever wanted to.” He crosses his arms over his chest at your attempt at deflection. “Look, I’m really sorry if that was something you wanted to keep a secret or just between us. I should have asked you first if that was ok to share.”

“I don’t care about that.” Rooster waves you off and takes a step closer to you, his eyes searching yours. “All this time and I’m the best you’ve ever had?”

“Are we really doing this? Here and now?”

You peer around him to look and see if anyone is watching the two of you, it feels like a showdown. But all the Daggers are occupied, probably on purpose. You’ve never seen Mickey with such a serious look of concentration on his face.

“Here and now,” he confirms.

You feel flustered, “Rooster, it’s been 12 years and we haven’t talked about it once-”

“Bradley,” he cuts you off. He takes another step towards you, so you’re toe to toe with him. “I’ve always been Bradley to you.”

The tension that had crept up in your shoulders releases a bit.

“Bradley,” you say, softly. “Listen, I’ve had a lot of good sex since then. Great sex even.” He presses his lips together and nods. “And with other men, if I felt like they weren’t putting in their best effort I’d kick them out because the bar was set very high early on.”

You see him fight back a smirk.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, with pride.

Your breath gets caught in your throat, you know he hears it because his eyes take on a richer shade of brown. You both feel the shift, tension churning between the two of you.

Taking a deep breath, you continue, “But I was telling the truth when I said you were my best. Probably because of the way you made sure I knew that you cared. I don’t know how to describe it. It was just different with you.”

You feel his finger graze the back of your hand.

The sounds of the Hard Deck fade into the background as you stare at each other. Entire conversations are being had as you look into his eyes and he looks into yours. Words and sentences spoken with glances.

Just friends don’t look at each other like this.

“It’s never been like this,” you whisper, “We’ve never been like this before.” You gesture at how close he is to you.

How he’s almost got you backed up against a wall.

How he’s looking at you like you’re his.

“I know.”

He says your name and your heart somersaults in your chest.

“I want to see your tattoo. I keep finding myself looking for it when we’re all at the beach. And then I get annoyed, knowing that people have seen it and I haven’t.”

“My tattoo? Bradley, what-”

“I want to see your tattoo,” he repeats like it’s a fact. “And I want to punch Seresin in his smug face every time he flirts with you.”

You roll your eyes, “Jake doesn’t flirt with me, not really. He just likes riling you up.”

“What if I said I wanted to try this as more than friends.” Bradley settles a large hand on your hip. “What if I said that since you’ve moved here I’ve had a hard time keeping my head on straight.”

“Bradley.” His name falls out of your mouth so easily now that it can.

“I want to take you home with me. I want to kiss you. I want to make you come. I need to know if you sound the same in my bed. And then I want to take you out for breakfast and buy whatever fancy coffee you want and as many pancakes as you can eat.”

You’ve been told that you wear your heart on your sleeve, but he has always worn his on his face. There’s no mistaking the open want on his face.

“Bradley, it’ll be different this time.” For so many reasons.

Because it’s not a favor being asked. It’s not some new experience being tried with the person you trust the most, with everything. You’d be on equal footing. It wouldn’t be a friend helping a friend, the two of you would be crossing that line between friends and more because you want each other in that way.

“I want it to be different, sweet girl,” he says, cupping your face in his familiar hand, “I’m ready for it to be different, if you are.”

He looks from your eyes down to your parted lips.

“We didn’t do that last time,” you whisper. Feeling brave, you reach out and run your fingers along the buttons of his shirt.

“No, we didn’t,” he agrees. His eyes are trained on his thumb as he skims it under your lip. “And that’s a damn shame.”

Bradley’s face is all you can see. Warm eyes, a still-straight nose, and a soft smile that is for you and you alone.

He dips down and your eyes flutter closed, your head tipping up on its own in anticipation.

His lips brush your cheek. It’s not enough.

You tug on his collar, but he chuckles and kisses your cheek again, lingering longer this time.

“I’m not kissing you for the first time around the corner from a bathroom,” he rasps.

You open your eyes and see the amusement in his. He always did like teasing you.

“Oh, where do you plan on doing it then?”

“Outside your front door, like a gentleman,” he says, like it’s obvious.

You can’t help but grin because Bradley Bradshaw can’t wait the extra 10 minutes it would take to drive to his place instead of yours. He wants that kiss just as badly as you do. You watch as a matching smile to yours blooms across his face.

It feels normal to slide your fingers between his much larger ones. It feels right as you lead the way out of the Hard Deck with him only a step behind you.

As it turns out, he only makes it as far as the Bronco before he’s spinning you back towards him and pressing you against it. His hands are on your hips and yours are wrapped around his neck as he kisses you for the very first time.

Bradley kisses you like a man who knows what he wants. And what he wants is you.

It’s not tentative in the way that first kisses usually are.

He kisses you like he knows you.

Because he does.

Later, when he closes the door to the Bronco for you, it feels like the end of one thing. But as he slips his fingers into yours when he backs out of the parking space it feels like the beginning of something new.

That night tangled in Bradley’s sheets- he’d kissed you at every light which made those extra 10 minutes it took to get to his home worth it- he makes your back arch and your toes curl as he makes you come with his fingers and mouth and tongue and cock. His lips dropping kiss after kiss on every part of you that he can reach. Because he can, because you want him and he wants you. 

The way he touches you tells you that he remembers it all.

He was you first, but what you wouldn’t learn until later, is that he would also be your last.

And he’d be the only man to ever have your entire heart.

Happy Birthday Jordan! An AU just for you! 💖 I adore you and I hope this year is the best one yet!

A big thank you to @callsignspark and @ofstoriesandstardust for their help and beta reading and their woogirling! I appreciate you two so much!

Author's Note: this was a "what-if" AU set in the 'Like I Can' universe! If you want to read about what really happens you can read it here!

You can read more of my stories here!

Taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken  @callsignspark @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @ofstoriesandstardust @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

[lincolndjarin]

Not So Secret Santa

javier peña x fem!reader

this is a part of the @pedrostories gift exchange!!

summary : you get the only person you didn't want for your offices secret santa.

warnings/tags : 18+ mdni, enemies/friends to lovers, canon divergence, steve is your boss/close friend, reader and javier have a complicated relationship, reader is insecure, brief mentions of alcohol, porn with plot, smut, light angst, javier and reader fight physically but it's very light with no actual injury, masturbation, semi-public sex, p in v, idk how to properly tag this but javi likes boobs in this so he touches boobs, unprotected sex (don't do this, wrap it this holiday season), use of a makeshift gag, rough yet very loving sex because it's christmas and christmas magic means i can write what i want.

tldr : you and javi have sex in his office and you put his tie in his mouth to shut him up.

word count : 4.4k

✦ : merry christmas @taro-666 !!! i'm your secret santa !!! i hope you're well this holiday season and i hope you enjoy this fic !! i haven't written much peña, despite how much i love him so i hope i did him justice and i hope you have a wonderful holiday <3 <3 (also sorry this is a little late (20 minuetes left before midnight so we're good). i was out with family all day and was only just now able to get to my laptop, i promise i didn't forget about you lmao)

no use of y/n, reader has hair and painted nails & javier sort of half picks her up at one point, nothing else is described besides clothing.

lovely dividers by @saradika-graphics

“Please, Steve, I’ll give you a week's pay.” You lean across his desk, genuine desperation in your voice after an hour of begging. 

“Not gonna happen.” He doesn’t even bother looking up from his computer.

“A month.” Your voice is starting to pitch up, something similar to anguish in your tone. Your offer finally gets a reaction out of him as his eyes widen, head tilting up.  

“Jesus, you can’t be serious.” He’s examining your expression, trying to determine the sincerity of your claim. 

“My entire Christmas bonus.” 

“Okay, stop.” He sighs, giving you a sympathetic look. “We’re not allowed to switch.”

“When did you become such a stickler for the rules?” You cross your arms in front of your chest. 

“It’s just a secret Santa. He’s our friend, whether you like it or not, you two are close and this shouldn’t be this big of a deal, now go, please, I need to finish up here so I can leave at a reasonable hour.” He loosens his tie as you sigh. 

“It’s not just a secret Santa, Steve. It’s an opportunity for him to tell me that I once again didn’t do something right. No matter what I get him, it isn’t going to be good enough.” Even as you’re saying it you can see that he isn’t going to change his mind about this. 

“He’s a dick to everybody. That’s inevitable, it just means he’s comfortable with you.” He’s already turning back to his work. 

“Please, Steve.” 

“No.”

You glare down at him, giving him your angriest look as his gaze tilts back up to meet yours. 

When it’s clear that he isn’t going to switch you turn and leave, slamming his office door in the process. 

“Don’t forget, I need you here early to help set up for the party!” His muffled voice seeps out into the hall as you walk away. 

Once you’re out in your car and far away from prying eyes you unfold the damned slip of paper you’d drawn earlier today. 

Javier P. 

Of course, you got stuck with fucking Peña, a nickname you’d given him a few months ago. He absolutely hates it but the entire time you’ve worked for the DEA he’s gone out of his way to bother you. Sure, he’s your “friend”, in a strange, complicated way. But he still drives you up the wall with his constant need to one up you and the way he’s constantly making passes at women around the office. 

And it’s not like you have any problems with him sleeping around, lord knows you’ve had a fair amount of one night stands, but he just has to hit on every woman you work with. 

Every single woman, except you. 

You’d never admit it of course but a part of you will always be self conscious about that fact. It doesn’t help that Javier absolutely adores bothering you at every possible moment. He loves nothing more than to pester, annoy, and mock you, spending nearly half his day leaning over your desk despite the million complaints you’ve sent Steve about his persistent partner. 

He’ll sit on your desk, doing an endless amount of things to cause you distress. Like crowding you with his cigarette smell and vanilla cologne as he tells you you’re filling papers wrong, or telling you what colors to paint your nails, or solving your cases before you can even get to them, or teasing you about your shitty car. Today he wouldn’t stop bothering you about your weekend plans like he doesn’t already know exactly where you’ll be. 

“Are you doing anything this weekend?” He’d asked with that devastating smirk and eyebrow raise combo. 

“I have to go buy my secret Santa gift, just like everyone else.” You’d turned away, avoiding eye contact as he scoffed. 

“What about Saturday?” He continued to pry, you wanted nothing more than to shove his perfect ass off your desk. 

“The Christmas party, Javi. Just like everyone else.” You had sighed, squeezing the bridge of your nose as Emilia had walked past your desk. Javier immediately forgot your entire conversation as he turned to her. 

“I love your nails.” He’d pushed his hair out of his face, holding his hand out to take hers, getting a closer look at the well manicured designs. 

You had tuned out after that. Not wanting to be involved in the exchange as you went back to typing. Acutely aware of your own nails. 

Red chipped paint. 

You couldn’t help but wonder what it must be like to be the object of his affection.

It wouldn’t matter if he did hit on you, you would probably reject him anyway. 

Probably. 

It doesn’t matter, it’s never gonna happen so why let it bother you? 

With a sigh you toss the paper into your cup holder, reaching to turn on the radio, maybe some Christmas music will make you feel better. Of course nothing happens as you turn up the volume knob but it makes you want to scream regardless. 

Stupid fucking Peña. 

Stupid broken radio, stupid shitty car. 

“Fuck.” You mumble under your breath as you shift into drive.

Before you know it you’re back in your car in the DEA office parking lot, this time a few things are different though. 

You’re dressed nicer, trading your slacks in for a skirt and your dress shirt for a sweater. And of course you now have a small wrapped box in your lap. 

Since you had yesterday off for the holiday you spent your Friday at the mall, searching for a gift for Javier. Eventually you had settled on three little things; Nicotine gum, mostly because you’ll get more work done if he isn’t constantly dragging you outside for his smoke breaks. He complains too much about going alone and it’s always been easier not to argue, now he can stay at your desk with his gum. Beard oil, the fancy stuff he always insists on using in his mustache. You’d bought him the wrong kind last year for his birthday and you still haven’t heard the end of it. And a lighter, you had to beg the shop owner to make an exception and do a same day engraving of his birthday. 

Jesus. 

You know way too much about him. 

You arrived two hours early as requested by Steve to help him set up. With the wrapped box tucked under your arm you anxiously tap the patterned wrapping paper with your freshly manicured nails. 

“You should paint your nails green, I love green.” He had said through a drag of his cigarette. 

Why did you let that idiot's opinions influence this decision? You feel foolish. The green chrome polish shimmering in the street lights in the parking lot as you step into the building. You had extra time while you were waiting for the engraving and you just couldn’t help yourself when the salon was just a few stores away. The image of Javier holding your hand and examining your painted nails while telling you how nice they looked was just too tempting. Maybe he’d even ask if you did it just for him, and you could drag him into a closet at the party, the exact situation you watched unfold last year. Except in that scenario you weren’t the lucky lady he’d run off with that night. 

There’s no time to be thinking like that.

You shake off whatever filth you were imagining as you look around the hectic mess of garland and glitter.

Steve is already stressing, setting up tables as you set your gift under the tree before getting to work. The office is already mostly decorated but with his new position as supervisor Steve is insistent that everything be perfect his first Christmas in charge. So you plate food, and you mix drinks exactly as he wants them, and you hold the ladder steady when he insists on putting more lights up. When you’ve got about a half an hour before guests start arriving you’re finishing up and last minute touches, the two of you crowded around a drink tower. 

The tension from your conversation yesterday seems to have fizzled out as you become engrossed in your work, when you’ve both finished he gives you an appreciative look.

“Thank you, seriously, it means a lot.” You help him adjust his tie as he straightens out his shirt. 

“Anytime, although I’m surprised you didn’t just ask Javier.” You pat his shoulder as you finish, brushing a stray blonde hair out of his eyes. 

He laughs, a nervous chuckle that makes you raise an eyebrow but when you open your mouth to comment on it he lets out a relieved sigh as the first of your coworkers arrive.

More people show up than you could have expected. 

You stay near Steve for most of the beginning until he gets dragged away by one of the higher ups who had made an appearance, leaving you alone to sip your drink against the back wall. You hum along to a Christmas song that plays loud enough to drown out any conversation you might eavesdrop on to entertain yourself in his absence, your eyes scan the crowds as you try to match up the people you work with with their spouses. 

You’re getting ready to find another group to talk to when you catch a glimpse of him standing against the opposite wall, talking to Bonnie, the woman who works in the cubicle next to yours. 

Fucking Peña. Dressed in a stupidly tight green dress shirt. 

You should leave them alone, especially if he’s trying to make a move on her. But you can’t help it as you make your way around the room towards them, a vague sense of jealousy settling in your stomach. 

String lights twinkle across the ceiling of the office, creating a warm ambience throughout the space, just as you’re about to tap him on the shoulder you overhear their conversation. 

“I had to beg Steve to switch with me, took an hour of convincing and a week's paycheck but it’ll be worth it to see the look on her face.” His back is to you as he leans in closer to Bonnie. 

He’s probably talking about one of the other women from the office. Steve probably had someone Javier was trying to impress and that’s why Steve didn’t want to trade with you, he had already promised his pick to Javier. 

Whatever, you can’t be too bothered about that. It does make you want to return to your spot on the other side of the room but you don’t get the chance to as the music is turned down rather suddenly.

One of the secretaries, Benjamin, stands on a chair, making an announcement that it’s time to do the secret Santa. You manage to twist through the crowds so Javier never sees you, finding his gift and bringing it to where he now stands, simultaneously keeping an eye out for your own gift.  

You hand him the box, watching the way his face lights up. 

“You picked me?” He grins as you nod, carefully peeling back the wrapping paper as you feel a tap on your shoulder. Benjamin waits behind you, leaning in to whisper while you watch Javier open his gift. 

“It was short notice so we didn’t have time to get you a back up gift but your secret Santa told us at the last minute that he forgot to get you something, he promised to bring in something after New Years, I’m so sorry.” You feel a little disappointed as he murmurs but it isn’t that big of a deal, it’s a busy time of year and people can forget things. 

“No worries, do you know who it was? I’d like to at least tell them it’s fine.” You turn away from Javier as he smiles at the nicotine gum, Benjamin's eyes flicker from your face to Javier’s before he gives you a sympathetic look, walking away. 

Javier traded for your name? 

As your head tilts to look at him now you can see the smirk he’s now sporting. 

“ …but it’ll be worth it to see the look on her face.”

Javier had made a conscious effort to get your name just so he could not get you something.

Huh.

That doesn’t feel great. The look he gets to see on your face is betrayal and then just sadness. You don’t really care what the reason for his decision is, you turn and walk away from him regardless. If he tries to say something to you it’s drowned out by the music that starts once again. 

Why are you so upset over some stupid joke? If it had been anyone else you wouldn’t have cared, you’d have brushed it off as a harmless accident but this wasn’t an accident. 

Maybe he didn’t really think of you as a friend. 

Maybe all of the teasing and one-upmanship really was from a place of animosity and you were just too blind and too infatuated to see it. You want to cry but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction so you sift through the bowl of keys, searching for the Star Wars keychain attached to your lanyard but you can’t find it. The combination of the blaring Christmas songs with the frustration you’re currently feeling only makes you more emotional.  

You don’t want to go to the bathrooms where you might run into someone and you can’t go to Steve’s office because he might be talking to his supervisor, so you go to the only place you know there won’t be people. 

Javier’s office. 

You walk as quickly as you can, slipping inside as you slam the door shut behind you, clicking the lock in place before turning around, resting against the door as you feel tears spilling from your eyes. It isn’t until he clears his throat that your head snaps up.

Today is just not your day.

Did he know you’d come here? How the hell did he beat you here? He’s fidgeting with the lighter you bought him, watching it light and go out as he sits with your keys in his other hand. 

Your face feels hot as you take in the sight of him. 

“Give me my keys.” You hold your hand out, wiping your eyes with the other as you wait. Of course he doesn’t hand them over, that would be too easy and today is insisting on being difficult. 

“I really liked your gift. Seriously, this is… outrageously thoughtful.” He murmurs, seemingly unaware of your mood until he takes a closer look at you, his expression shifting as he realizes your eyes are rimmed with red. “Why are you so upset? What happened?” He slides open a drawer, tossing your keys into his desk while you consider calling a cab. 

What a foolish question. 

How could he possibly not know?

“I want to leave, I’m sick of this party.” You turn to leave, maybe Steve can drive you home. 

“Come on, the parties barely started.” He’s on his feet, he doesn’t try to corner you, if anything he sets himself against the wall. 

“And I want to leave.” When you reach for the doorknob he grabs your wrist, holding it as he stares at you, a look of impatience crosses his face. 

“Don’t tell me you’re mad about the secret Santa.” His brows furrow. 

“This isn’t about a stupid secret Santa.”

“It sure seems like it is.” He’s still holding your wrist, why is he still holding your wrist?  

This isn’t about the secret Santa. It’s a lot more than that, and after ages of keeping your thoughts to yourself in front of him you just let it out. 

“This is about the fact that you don’t even care about me enough to make any sort of effort. I know you deliberately chose me, you specifically chose to do this to me and I don’t care that it’s just a stupid prank. It still- It’s still a shitty thing to do.” Your voice starts cracking half way through and you can feel your eyes welling up again but it doesn’t matter anymore, you were wrong, the two of you aren’t friends. 

“So this is about the secret Santa.” 

Of course he wouldn’t get it. 

“You’re an idiot.” You finally pull your wrist from him. 

You aren’t sure what else to do so you shove him, his back hitting the wall with a soft thud as you push past him to get to his desk, hoping to grab your keys but he catches your waist first. 

“Can you stop being so stubborn for five seconds and just let me explain myself?” You can tell his patience is wearing thin, his voice is strained as he pulls you back against him, caging you against his chest with his arms. 

“Fuck Javi- let me go-” You try to kick his knees but he anticipates it, shifting his legs to avoid you.

“Just wait- listen to me.” He swings you around a bit as he tries to still you, you can feel his breath hitching, the buttons of his shirt digging into your back. The two of you thrash around for another moment until you freeze, feeling something poking your hip. When he realizes why you stopped putting up a fight he lets you go in an instant. “Shit- I-I’m sorry.” He stammers as you turn around towards him, eyes wide. 

You never thought you’d see Javier Peña flustered yet here he is. When you take a step back his cheeks are burning red, his fingers twitch nervously at his side, and as much as you try to ignore it, his pants are tighter than usual. (And considering how tight they usually are this is quite a feat.) He won’t look you in the eye. 

“It- It’s fine, Javi.” You adjust the hem of your skirt, trying to fix your hair. You just can’t catch a break today. “It was an accident, there was a lot of- of friction and it happens. I think I should just go.” You stutter a bit trying to find the right words. This entire evening has been catastrophic, and you’re more than ready to call it a night. 

“It’s not an accident.” He mumbles, finally looking at you, not bothering with subtlety as he adjusts himself. “You should probably go.” 

If it’s not an accident you don’t want to go. 

You want to stay and keep making accidents, starting with rushing forward into him, taking his face in your hands and kissing him. Which is exactly what you do. At first he doesn’t react and you worry you read the situation wrong but when you pull away, just an inch, his hands envelop you. 

Hips, waist, back, shoulders, hair. He’s everywhere, all consuming as his teeth graze your lips, in an instant your backside hits his desk.

When he finally does remove his lips from yours his are slick and a tiny bit swollen, his pupils swallow his irises whole. 

“I loved your gift, I wasn’t joking, it’s perfect and the last thing I want is for you to think that I don’t care about you. Of course we’re friends, you-” As he rambles on you ball up the end of his tie, unceremoniously shoving it between his teeth. 

“Talk later, this now.” You grab the bottom of your sweater, pulling it up over your head, watching his jaw tense at the sight of your chest, his hands playing with the strap of your bra as you hop up onto his desk. Hiking your skirt up, he slots himself between your legs, your own fingers push your panties to the side as he reaches behind you, easily twisting the clasp of your bra to release it, tossing it to the side as his enormous palms engulf your breasts. 

You dip your fingers into the wetness between your legs, briefly taking a moment to wonder how you found yourself here. Just moments ago you were ready to leave and consider your friendship with Javier over, yet now you’re spread out on his desk, on display for him as you sink your fingers into your eager cunt. 

You don’t get to linger on the thought for long because he groans into the fabric of his tie and you’re pulled back into the moment. 

Jesus you’re soaked. 

You have no trouble pushing two slick digits into yourself. You can feel the outline of him against your thigh and you know that you need to warm yourself up to take him. He’s too engrossed in your tits to do it right now and you’ve waited too long for this, you don’t want to wait, you just want to have him. 

He’s tender at first, squeezing and softly tracing the outline of your areola until he seemingly can’t control himself any longer and he pinches, rolling your nipples between his thumb and pointer finger as your whine. Back arching of the oak of his desk as you curl your own fingers. Even through the tie his moans are still somehow louder than yours, you’re briefly worried about someone hearing as you let out a whimper while he tweaks your nipple but the music’s so loud at the party you can hear Mariah Carey from here. 

You don’t stop for a second, putting your focus on reaching the peak that you find yourself already getting startlingly close to. You can feel yourself pulsing as you pick up the pace, reveling in the way his eyes devour the very sight of you. You’re agonizingly close when he grabs your wrist, removing your fingers carefully as you try and resist, wanting to finish what you started, you’re about to whine when he begins unzipping his pants. You can feel your pussy clenching at the very sight of him, of course he isn’t wearing any underwear under his dress pants so the second his zipper is fully down his cock springs free.

Javier fucking Peña has a gorgeous cock. 

Standing stiff and proud without either one of you even having to touch it. Pretty and pink on the tip, already leaking down the shaft. And heavy, as he takes it in his hand, his other hand gripping your waist as lines himself at your entrance. He takes a moment, eyes scanning your face, silently asking for permission. 

You can’t nod fast enough but the second that you do he slides into you. 

You could never conjure up something this good in your fantasies. The way he fills you, stretching you open as he whimpers into the fabric of his tie, you like that he listened, that he kept it in his mouth this long. His strokes are needy and fast, like he’s been waiting for this for so long and now he can’t help but be ravenous. You were already painfully close before he filled you with his perfect cock, it takes only a few minutes for you to be right back there. His fingers dig into your waist so hard that you’re certain he’ll leave marks as he slams in and out of you, pulling out almost entirely with every thrust. 

You’re vaguely aware of the sound of his trinkets rolling off his desk and onto the floor. 

“Javi, Javi, Javi.” Between gasps you chant his name, the sound encouraging him as he pushes in deep, his pelvis grinding against your clit until you see stars. Your cunt clenching around him as your orgasm is ripped out of you. Messy and loud and blurry, he fucks you through it. You’re so blissed out you can barely focus on the persistent pounding into you until you manage to come back to your senses and his hands leave your waist, instead intertwining with your fingers as his hips twitch forward and you feel him hastily pull out of you.

He spits his tie out, opting to instead bite your shoulder as he comes, the groan that leaves his throat is obscene. Raspy and filthy as he collapses down on top of you, the two of you sweating and gasping amongst the paperwork and pens now scattered across his desk. 

Did that really just happen?

He manages to collect himself first, leaning back and tucking himself into his pants before quickly tending to you. He grabs a few tissues, wiping your stomach where the product of your activities lay, before redressing you, slipping the flats that had slipped off, back onto your feet, pulling your skirt back down to cover you as he slides your panties back into place, and retrieving your bra and sweater, lifting you into a sitting position as he redresses you, kissing your cheeks, nose, and forehead the entire time. 

“All good?” He whispers, gentler than you’ve ever heard him as you nod, grinning. 

“Good enough to make me forgive you for not getting me a present.” You reach into his drawer, grabbing your keys before sliding off of his desk. 

“Maybe this was your present.” He tilts his head, kissing you again, smiling all the while. 

“That was the perfect gift then.” Probably the best you’ve ever gotten.

“Are you gonna stay for the rest of the party?” He takes your hands in his, his thumbs absentmindedly rubbing circles into your skin. 

“I think I need to go to bed after that.” You laugh as you jingle your keys, turning towards the door as he catches your lips in another kiss. 

It makes your heart flutter. The continued affection makes you think this isn’t a one time thing. You want more. You want conversations about feelings, and to talk about what just happened, you want to feel him inside you again, and the look in his eyes tells you that you’re going to get all of that. But right now you’re tired, so the rest can wait. 

“Can I walk you to your car?” You nod as he murmurs.

He doesn’t let go of your hand, walking you out of the building towards your car, opening the door for you and giving you one last kiss with a promise that he’d call you tomorrow, before you watched him walk back into the building.

Your phone buzzes as you turn your key in the ignition, the sound of Wham! fills the car, Last Christmas playing softly. You take your phone out of your pocket, checking the text notification from Javier. 

[ i forgot to tell you how pretty your nails are. merry christmas hermosa ]

Your head turns up in surprise as you realize your radio is working. A new radio system is installed in the center of your dashboard, with a little green bow taped to the top, and a paper tag with Javi’s familiar messy handwriting. 

from : your secret fucking santa

a/n : happy holidays everyone!!

[roosterforme]

Aim for the Sky Part 14 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: The guys and Nat pull through with something big for your baby shower. Bradley can't get enough of your body, and then he gets the biggest surprise of all.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, oral sex, adult language, lactation kink, pregnancy topics

Length: 6000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

"I told you this would be a shitstorm," Bradley muttered quietly before taking a sip of his mimosa. Nat did her best to decorate the Hard Deck for the baby shower, and she even wore a dress for the occasion. But most of the attendees were the guys who decided to show up in essentially their gym clothes. In fact, the only one who looked halfway decent was Jake, probably because Cat told him what to wear.

"I don't mind this shitstorm," you told him, kissing his cheek as you picked up your orange juice. Jimmy was bartending since Penny was technically a shower guest, and he kept filling up your juice and making sure you were eating the snacks. Next time Bradley saw him on a regular night, he'd make sure to leave a big tip.

"What the hell?" Bradley groaned as Javy arrived and dropped another case of beer off on the gift table. "Even I know that pregnant women can't have alcohol. What in the actual hell is wrong with these people?"

You shot a glare in his direction before you stepped away to hug Javy. You had on another one of those bodycon dresses, and Bradley knew for a fact you weren't wearing any underwear. Not a single thread of it. Just that sexy, stretchy pink dress squeezing your curves like he wanted to be doing. Javy's hand slid a little low on your back for his liking, and he raised one unamused eyebrow before you stepped away.

God, he was so fucking cranky today. He still maintained that Valentine's Day was stupid, because he loved you every day, all the time. Last year he took you to that weird hotel with the hot sauce vending machine, which was fun, but he didn't need a special occasion to do anything. Having Rose's shower on the holiday should have given it more meaning, but he was irritable. 

He knew this day would come toward the end of your pregnancy, but last night, you fell asleep while he was going down on you. And this morning when you woke up, you didn't say a word about it. Like you'd completely forgotten. Then you put on that pink dress and made yourself look all cute for the baby shower, but he could tell you were tired. The exhaustion hit you like a ton of bricks after the trip to Mexico, just when Bradley became accustomed to having sex multiple times per day. Just when you were more glowing than ever.

"Bradshaw," Jake drawled, the sound alone grating on Bradley's nerves. "Did someone piss in your mimosa?"

The stupid smirk on his face made Bradley roll his eyes. "There are two dozen people here, and I'm your best option for someone to annoy?"

Jake laughed merrily in response. "Oh, Rooster. You're always going to be my top pick. Your reactions alone are priceless. Don't tell me you've got cold feet about the baby? You can't unfuck Angel. You know that, right?"

"Jesus, you're annoying," he muttered under his breath. "It has nothing to do with that." But he kind of wanted to pout. Or get a blowjob from you. That would probably make it better. "I'm excited for the baby. Obviously."

Jake shook his head. "Then may I suggest you put a smile on your face before you upset your wife? Let her have a good day. Also, she looks hot pregnant."

"Why are you even looking at her?" he mumbled before he walked over to you. It wasn't your fault that you were exhausted and achy with delectable tits. It wasn't your fault that you fell asleep last night, even though you could have definitely held on for five more minutes so he wasn't second guessing himself now. 

"Hey," he whispered, wrapping his arms around you from behind and letting his chin rest on your shoulder. "Having fun?" he asked as the final few guests arrived. Another case of beer and a bottle of champagne ended up with the rest of the gifts when Reuben walked in. "What is wrong with these men?"

Your laughter was light as you said, "I think it's kind of charming how clueless they are. I'm not sure why we even bothered to make a gift registry. Also, can you just tell me why you're pouting, Roo?"

He shrugged against your back as he ran his palm slowly up and down your belly, hoping to feel the Nugget kick. She seemed to be running out of room in there at this point, and the kicks were harder to feel. And maybe that was part of it, too. He was used to not only your horny ass on him 24/7, but he was used to his daughter greeting him when he talked to her.

"Does this have anything to do with me falling asleep while you were giving me head?"

Bradley's eyes went wide. "Sweetheart, do you really have to announce it to the whole place? If it wasn't any good, then it wasn't any good, but you know I'll try to make it up to you later."

"Stop it," you said with another laugh as you turned to face him. You were too beautiful. All he wanted to do was make you happy. "I've been trying to think of a way to make it up to you."

"I wasn't even sure you remembered falling asleep like that," he whispered.

You ran our hand down along his cheek as your belly bumped against his abs. "I'm sorry, Bradley. I couldn't stay awake for another second last night. Rose is requiring a lot more sleep now. I think we need to mess around earlier in the day. Oh! Maybe we can mess around in one of the Broncos this afternoon! You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"Yeah," he replied, unable to keep a smile from his lips. "I'd like that."

You kissed his lips softly and ran your thumb along his mustache, leaving him wanting more. "As soon as this shitshow is over, I'm all yours."

--------------------------

"Thanks," you told Reuben as you patted the case of beer he bought for you. "So thoughtful."

"Oh, there's a gift card taped on the side, too," he told you with a smile. And sure enough, when you turned it around to look, you found it. A gift card to the liquor mart in Coronado.

"Thank you so much," you told him with a smile as you tried to figure out why everyone brought so much alcohol. "Just out of curiosity, why do you think I need this much beer and fifty dollars worth of booze?"

The guys all burst out laughing. "Because you have to live with Rooster!" Javy shouted, earning a swift middle finger from your husband. Then you started laughing, and even Nat, who looked fed up with all of them, had to hide her smile.

"We were wondering when you were going to ask," Jake said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out another gift card. "This is from us. For real this time. Congratulations."

He placed it in your hand, and tears filled your vision. Javy, Mickey, Reuben and Jake had all scribbled their names on the paper envelope, and someone had written Bob's on there even though he was still deployed. "It's for Amazon, for a thousand dollars," you whispered, afraid you were going to start actively crying.

"We heard diapers are expensive," Reuben said as he shoved chips and spinach dip into his mouth.

"We heard babies are expensive," Javy added.

"Babies are definitely expensive," Cat called out from the other side of the bar.

Bradley wrapped his arm around your shoulders, and you buried your face in his chest as he said, "I'm not going to apologize for flipping you off, because I'm sure you deserved it for something, but thank you."

After a few deep breaths, inhaling the comforting scent of your husband, you looked up at everyone and said a very watery, "Thank you."

There was another card from Maria and Cam attached to a high chair, and Cat picked out a onesie that said Future Aviator. Maverick and Penny bought every bath accessory a baby could ever need, and then you were left with an enormous gift bag that Mickey was handing off with a bright smile on his face. 

"You got us something else?" you asked, bewildered since he already contributed to the hefty gift card. But when you looked inside, everything was blue. Blue bibs and outfits and crib sheets. Blue everything.

"We're having a girl," Bradley told him with a furrowed brow.

"What?" Mickey asked as he turned to look at Nat. "You said they were having a boy!"

She scoffed. "I never said that."

"You said the baby's name is Ambrose!"

Nat was rubbing her temples as she looked up at the ceiling. "I said the baby's name is Rose. It's a girl."

"Ohhhh. That's why we got Rooster a box of pink cigars," Mickey said, nodding as if that made sense as he handed you a gift receipt.

"You just ruined the last surprise," Javy complained, hitting Mickey on the back of the head with a cigar box before giving it to Bradley. "Save some of those for next time we go golfing."

You watched your husband hug everyone in turn as he held onto the cigars and the gift card. And you didn't even mind that you'd probably need to exchange most of the stuff Mickey picked out. Everything was actually pretty perfect. It was chaotic, for sure. The guys ate all of the elaborate hors d'oeuvres that Nat picked out like it was a bag of Doritos, and you started crying again when Cam and Maria kissed your cheeks at the same time. But nothing prepared you for what Natasha said when you and Bradley insisted on helping her clean up at the end.

"I didn't really get anything for Rose, because I don't know what she likes yet. But I wanted to make everything easier for you both, so expect a ton of diapers and wipes to be delivered to your house this week." She pulled two wrapped boxes out from behind the bar as she said, "And these are for you."

"Nat," Bradley said, trying to push the boxes away. "You weren't supposed to get us anything at all. You threw us a fucking baby shower! It's too much!"

You watched her press her lips together for a few seconds before she whispered, "You're my best friend, Soul Sister. I never imagined I would ever see you as happy as you are now. Just take the fucking gifts. They're personalized, so I can't return them."

Bradley gave your hip a little squeeze before handing you the boxes, and then he pulled Nat in for a hug which lasted all of three seconds before she shook her head. "God, you're the worst. Just open them," she muttered, trying to pretend like she wasn't crying.

Your emotions were all over the place. You were happy and excited and horny and everything all at once. And you loved Natasha, but you weren't expecting her to pick out something so simple yet so perfectly beautiful. You unwrapped your box while Bradley opened his, and then you were both holding up luxuriously fluffy white cotton robes. Across the back of yours was stitched Rose's Mom in beautiful rose colored thread, and there was a rose embroidered on the front in the same color. Bradley's was the same but larger with Rose's Dad on the back. You slipped it on over your pink dress and did a little spin.

"This is beautiful," you whispered while Bradley put his on as well.

When you hugged her, she said, "I don't want either of you looking frumpy while you're taking care of my goddaughter."

While you hadn't given extensive thought to the honorary titles, you knew she would fit the role perfectly. You smiled and nodded. "You're absolutely right."

--------------------------

"Nat would be disgusted," Bradley said with a smile as he led you out to your quiet driveway later in the afternoon. The sky was a little dark from the storm clouds moving in, but it was still light enough out that he knew he needed to be cautious. He opened the back door of the blue Bronco and helped you in, and he was careful to help you keep yourself covered as you climbed in wearing nothing but your new robe. He tightened the sash on his, holding the front closed with one hand, and he followed you in.

"Roo," you whispered with a giggle. "I can see your cock."

He closed the door behind him and let the robe fall completely open, and soon you were yanking the sash so you could see all of him. Of course he was already hard and bobbing in excitement. "I'm pretty sure she intended for these to be worn over pajamas or underwear or something."

You just shrugged and straddled his lap, and told him, "I like it this way." You kissed his cheek while he cock was nestled up against your pussy, and he groaned in pleasure. "I'm sorry I fell asleep last night. I've been thinking about this moment all day. Wanting to make it up to you."

He felt a little bad for being so frustrated earlier, and he intended to say so, but then you pulled at the sash of your own robe, and he was treated to the sight of your swollen tits. When you shifted on his lap, they swayed ever so slightly, and he made a feral sound before leaning in to taste them. "Jesus," he moaned as he ran his nose around your breast. "So fucking warm." 

He sucked gently on your nipple while you played with his hair, hoping that the neighbors couldn't see through the line of trees into the Bronco. You tasted as good as you smelled, and he was salivating just knowing your milk would be coming in soon. Soft whimpers escaped you as he nibbled gently before sucking on you again, and you wiggled your hips until his tip was inside you. He slid his hands along the sides of your belly, and you gave him a little clench.

"Just a few more weeks, Daddy," you whispered, taking him deeper as he ran his tongue all over your chest. "Oh, you're such a good Daddy."

"Fuck," he growled, easing you back along the seat and hovering above you. "I thought this was gonna be sweet," he muttered, pistoning his cock into you, making your tits bounce. "But you're too hot."

You were whining his name, hands scrambling around for something to hold on to as he fucked you. "You don't have to be sweet, Roo. I like it rough."

"I know you do," he grunted kissing along your neck and palming your breast as he let you have it a little harder. "You're everything."

Eventually, like clockwork, his steady movements and whispered sentiments had you close. He let his hand cup your clit, his thumb stroking softly as he fucked you with sharp, strong strokes, and his other hand settled on your neck. You came instantly, your back arching, belly rising up to bump him.

"Bradley!" you screamed, and he glanced up to see if anyone was nearby. 

"Shh, Sweetheart," he coaxed, sinking his cock into your spasming pussy over and over until he couldn't take another second. "Oh, God." He pushed himself deep and dipped his thumb between your lips to keep you quieter, and he came and came. His balls were tight as he filled you, letting your body suck everything out of him that he had to give until he was a little dizzy. "Holy hell."

Your lips and tongue worked at his thumb as you lay there beneath him placidly. He kissed your nose and the perfect curve of your cheek before sitting up with his cock still inside you. You looked beautiful with your dainty rooster tattoo and your hard nipples, and when he withdrew slowly, he ran his fingers along your most intimate parts, collecting his cum.

"I hope the robes are machine washable," you whispered as you sat up, letting his cum dribble onto the fabric as you licked at his messy fingers. 

You had his cum on your lips, and your gaze was glued to his as he whispered, "Happy Valentine's Day, Baby Girl."

----------------------------

Later that week, you were climbing into bed while Bradley was adding to the Nugget Notebook. He was reading softly out loud as he wrote, and you were trying to enjoy yourself, but you didn't feel great.

"Hey, Rosie," he muttered with a smile. "Mommy's belly is looking enormous these days, and that means you'll be here soon. I don't think I've ever been this excited before. Nine months is a long time to build up this anticipation, and I'm ready to meet you. Your nursery is finished. We even had your baby shower the other day. All we're missing now is our little girl."

"That's sweet," you whispered, trying to get your stomach ache under control, but a second later, you jumped out of bed and ran for the bathroom. "Oh no," you groaned before emptying the contents of your stomach into the toilet.

Bradley was pounding across the floor right behind you, and you felt his hands on your back as you threw up even more. "What's wrong?" he asked, rubbing small circles. "What do you need me to do?"

"I don't know," you wailed, wiping sweat from your brow. "I feel awful. It started a few hours ago."

"Shit," he muttered, helping you lay down on the cold, tile floor. "Why didn't you say anything before?" He got to his feet and immediately had the blood pressure cuff on you while you closed your eyes and tried to get your heart rate to calm down. "Your blood pressure is low," he whispered. "This is inconsistent. It's been on the higher side."

Your mind was swirling with information as you tried to sit up, but Bradley was already on his phone. "What are you doing?"

"Calling Dr. Morris. Just lay still, Sweetheart." He rolled a towel up and tucked it under your head while Rose squirmed.

You did as you were told, because you were suddenly so tired, you couldn't think. You started to doze on the floor as Bradley spoke with someone. You only had four more weeks to go, but you felt like this was the beginning of the end. You just wanted to get the rest of this pregnancy over with as soon as possible. As you pulled the towel over your eyes to block out the light, your head started pounding. And when Bradley checked your blood pressure a second time, you heard him sigh.

"It's a lot higher now," he told whomever was on the phone. "Yes... yes... no... okay." A few seconds later, he was laying down next to you with one strong arm wrapped around your body. He kissed your ear and whispered, "They said it could be normal for this late in your pregnancy. The last month can get rough again, but we'll keep an eye on everything. If you don't feel a little bit better by the morning, I'll take you to get checked out."

You swallowed hard. "But you're supposed to be teaching tomorrow. Remember?"

He wanted to try his hand at flight instruction. He'd been talking about it for months. There would be fewer deployments if he thought it was a good fit for him, and Maverick was giving him the opportunity fill in on occasion now for an opening in the future.

"I don't care about that," he replied easily. "Let me get you girls back in bed."

Eventually you fell asleep while he rubbed your back. You could make it a few more weeks. Probably.

You felt a tiny bit better as the days wore on, but you were exhausted and achy. Your feet started to get puffy and swollen, and you could barely make it through a day at work.

"Are you almost ready to come out?" you asked your own belly in early March. 

But Bradley shook his head and got down in his knees in the middle of cooking dinner. "Absolutely not," he whispered. "You stay in there as long as you can, Rosie." He looked up at you with wide, brown eyes. "We're all doing great. Preeclampsia is under control again. You look incredible. I'm holding down the fort. That Nugget needs to stay put."

"I'm so tired," you whined. "My mom keeps saying I need to rest now before she's born, but I can't. I can barely sleep, and I always feel like I'm on the verge of throwing up again. And I'm just so fucking tired, Bradley."

"I know," he whispered, letting his cheek rest on your enormous belly. You were handily the largest pregnant woman you'd ever seen in your life, and you swore you got bigger by the day. "I'm taking care of as much as I can so you don't have to."

You started crying. "I feel disgusting. Everything hurts. My tits feel like they're on fire. My back feels like that time I woke up hanging halfway off the bed when I was drunk after my bachelorette party. My face is broken out, and I'm hungry."

Bradley sent you to the table with a bowl of homemade soup and spent thirty minutes trying to coax you to start your maternity leave early. But what were you supposed to do with your time if you were at home? Worry about the baby? Eat until you gained another ten pounds? Get frustrated that you can't sleep?

"No," you said, shaking your head. "I like going to work. I want to go to work."

He ran his hand along his face and asked, "Are we still doing maternity pictures on Sunday?"

"Yeah," you whispered, annoyed that you had scheduled it so late in your pregnancy, but you wanted to have some photos taken while you were still pregnant for his birthday calendar. He told you ages ago that was something he'd enjoy, and at least your breasts looked pretty nice at the moment. "I need you to meet me at the beach after you're done playing golf."

"There's no way I'm going golfing, Sweetheart."

"You have to. You promised the guys you'd smoke those pink cigars with them. And you'll look adorable in the photos with your cheeks all flushed from your outing."

He rolled his eyes and grouched as he walked away. "We'll see," he mumbled. "We'll just see."

------------------------------

Bradley was sipping pink champagne from the bottle and smoking a cigar in the golf cart, and he had to admit you were right for making him come today. You were miserable now. Sometimes when he touched you, he saw you wince. The last time you and he had sex was in the backseat of the blue Bronco a month ago. He kept telling you it was okay, but you cornered him this morning when he was trying to shave around his mustache, and you gave him a blowjob.

He was still thinking about his cock sliding expertly along between your lips when Jake lit up a cigar next to him. "You're almost there old man. More responsibility than you've ever had before."

Bradley grunted in response. "I'm ready. Can't wait to meet her." He couldn't stop thinking about passing along his last name and his mom's name to a new generation. If he never met you, he was sure he'd never be at this point now, but you made everything so exciting for him. "My Nugget."

Jake smirked in response. "Feel free to call me crying a few weeks after she's born when you need a break."

"Okay. Like you're some sort of baby professional," he muttered before taking another sip of champagne. "You weren't around when Jeremiah was a newborn."

"Well, I'm around now," Jake replied with a hard edge to his voice. "And I intend to keep it that way. Been thinking about proposing."

Bradley looked him in the eye and asked, "You think she'll say yes?"

While he looked just as cocky as ever, there was something unsure in his eyes. "How could anyone say no?"

Bradley shrugged in response. "I could say no to you all day long."

"You're not a woman."

"My wife told you no as well."

Jake glared at him before laughing. "Aren't you supposed to be getting photos taken or something? We've got two more holes to finish up."

"Yeah," Bradley grunted in response, ready to get out of here and get back to you. "Javy! Let's go!"

Javy was practicing his swing while smoking his own pink cigar, and that fact that Reuben was filling in with his thirty-four handicap and chugging champagne made Bradley really miss Bob. They all wound along the pathway toward the seventeenth green. Bradley got par on both holes and handily beat the other three, and then he ended up getting changed in his Bronco to head to the beach.

He was supposed to meet you and the photographer who had made both of his dirty Baby Girl calendars at a very specific spot on a very specific beach up near Oceanside, and when he arrived, you were topless.

"Jesus," he moaned, watching you cover your tits with your hands as you spun to face him.

"You're early!" you complained as he glanced along the deserted stretch of sand.

"I don't see the issue," he told you, closing the distance until he could kiss you. His eyes drifted down to your chest as he asked, "What are you doing, Sweetheart? Dirty maternity pictures?"

The photographer snorted as you shook your head. "Don't worry about it, Roo. It's for a special project," you said, leaning up to kiss his cheek. He desperately wanted to grab at you, but the two of you weren't alone, and he didn't want to make you wince again.

"I love special projects," he whispered, a little concerned that he might get hard as you dropped your hands and took your top back from the photographer with a thank you.

Then he was subjected to two hours of photos. Two hours of being posed and prodded while sand blew in his face. Two hours of being told he was only allowed to touch you in a specific way.

"Wouldn't it be better to take photos after Rose is here?" he mused when he was finally allowed to just watch you pose alone with your hands on your belly.

"Oh, don't worry about that. We'll have another round of pictures with her, too," you informed him.

"Great."

It was one thing to enjoy pictures of you, but Bradley wasn't a very good photography subject. He got tired of smiling after about three minutes. Honestly, he'd probably smile a lot more with his tiny daughter in his arms at home instead of on the beach where the wind was kicking up.

"We're just about done," the photographer informed him, but he knew what he wanted.

"Can we get a few with the sun setting where we aren't posed at all?" he asked.

You were standing with the waves rolling up around your toes as you asked, "What did you have in mind?"

He reached for you and pulled you close, one big hand coming up to your cheek as he said, "Maybe something like this." Then he kissed you just like he always would, and his other hand found your belly. "I love you," he murmured, and you kissed him harder. Your arms were around his neck like it was your very first kiss, and he couldn't stop smiling. 

He honestly forgot there was anyone else there at all until she said, "These look perfect."

He was still smiling as his forehead came to rest against yours. "Of course they do. I'm with my girls."

----------------------------

As the month of March wore on and the days grew hotter again, you were getting more uncomfortable by the hour. Your due date was fast approaching, and you felt like you lived at Dr. Morris's office now. They were constantly taking urine samples and blood samples, and when they finally sent you home on March twentieth with a cotton ball and a bandaid on your arm, you pouted at Bradley as he drove.

"Can we stop and get some ice cream?" you asked. "I was really good during my appointment."

"You were so good, Baby Girl," he crooned playfully, giving your thigh a squeeze. "I'll get you some ice cream."

He stopped at the super secret little ice cream spot near base, and you sat on a bench together with double scoop cones. Bradley's tongue was a major distraction as he licked along his strawberry and raspberry scoops, and you had to try to keep up before your treat melted everywhere. 

When he kissed your cheek, his lips were cold as he said, "You're too slow," before stealing a huge lick from your scoops. "You're dripping onto your shirt."

"No, I'm not," you insisted. You hadn't felt anything dribble onto your outfit, but when you glanced down, there was a damp spot on your shirt. Your brow furrowed, wondering how that could be, and then you gasped. "Oh. Ohhh. Are my nipples leaking?" you asked softly, handing him your cone and trying to discreetly look down your shirt.

"Oh my god," he groaned loudly, ice creams forgotten as he tried to get a peek, too. "Please tell me the answer is yes."

You bit your lip as you pulled your tank top and snug sports bra away from your tender breasts, ready to moan from the pain and pleasurable sensations. "They are," you gasped. When you looked up into his brown eyes, there was ice cream dripping onto both of his hands, and his lips were parted in awe. "Do you want to go home?"

He grunted something unintelligible, and you watched him inhale the rest of his ice cream. The fact that he let you eat something so messy in his Bronco was almost unfathomable, but he buckled you in and sprinted around to the driver's side while you held your cone. His cheeks were bright red in the setting sunlight, and he drove a bit faster than he usually ever did, his knee bobbing in anticipation.

As you licked at your cone and rubbed a hand on your tender belly, you sweetly asked, "What exactly do you want to do when we get home, Roo?"

He glanced over at you several times, pupils blown wide, before he rasped, "I need to taste you."

"Bradley," you moaned, squeezing your thighs together as he pulled into the driveway. "Please. I want you to."

"Fuck," he grunted, shifting into park and running back around to get you. He tossed your cone over his shoulder onto the grass, and he didn't complain when you wrapped your sticky fingers around his neck. He hauled you inside and took a seat on the couch with his legs spread wide and his erection bobbing in his gym shorts. "Show me, please," he begged, and you started to strip off your shirt. When you peeled off your bra as well, his eyes went even wider, and he took you gently by the hips until you were straddling his waist. 

"Jesus Christ," he whispered, eyes darting from your face to your breasts as a small bead of your breast milk dripped from your nipple. His fingers flexed on your hips and he whimpered.

"Go ahead," you coaxed, running your fingers through his hair. You were completely mesmerized by how badly he wanted this, and when he ran his tongue along your nipple before sucking gently, you whined.

He released you with a pop as your aching belly rested against him, and the possessive look in his eyes left you breathless. You guided him closer again with your hand at the back of his head, and this time, he didn't stop. He sucked and laved, lapping up your milk and buried his face in your breasts. You were leaking from both sides now, and he didn't let a single drop go to waste. He ran his nose and his fingers through it, tasting you on his skin as well as your own.

"You're so fucking warm," he whispered reverently. "And sweet. Oh my god, Baby Girl. Oh my god." Then his flat tongue swiped out for another taste. You let him keep going, loving the feel of his mouth and mustache, almost soothing you. By the time you pulled his cock free from his shorts, his tip was bright and angry looking, and after two pumps in your hand, he came all over both of you. Your leggings and his clothing were covered, but he was still lapping at your nipples, cheeks rosy and pupils wide.

"Daddy," you whispered, pulling away as you started to feel a little overstimulated and dizzy. "That was so hot."

He sank back against the couch, looking around like he was surprised to find the mess he just made. "Oh. Fuck. I'm sorry," he whispered, chest rising and falling with each deep breath. "I'll clean you up."

But you were laughing softly. "You got so carried away."

"I know," he groaned. "Your magic tits are killing me."

You whimpered and let him help you stand, and then you took him with you to get a shower. He didn't lick them again, but his hands were right there and his eyes were hazy as he looked you up and down.

"You're obsessed. What are you going to do when I'm no longer pregnant?"

His eyes lit up. "Well, I'll be delighted. Both of my girls will be here. And it's not like I wasn't obsessed with you before you were pregnant."

"Hmm, I suppose you're right." But as you climbed into bed, completely exhausted, you smirked as Bradley wrote a few paragraphs in the Nugget Notebook. You were wearing nursing pads now, but you came up with a little plan for the following day.

---------------------------

Bradley left base a little late. He was honestly so thankful that Maverick was giving him an opportunity to help teach the newest batch of aviators to arrive at Top Gun, but it was a lot of extra work that he wasn't used to. He drove home with a folder of things he needed to take a look at, but all he could really think about was your tits. Big, round, warm, perfect.

He hadn't seen you all day, but he blushed every time he thought about how he blew his load everywhere last night. He was also a little afraid he might do it again if you let him loose on your lactating nipples. Jesus, how was he supposed to function now that he knew what you tasted like?

Anxiously, he ran his fingers through his hair. Okay, so he knew he needed it. If you were home already, he'd just ask you nicely if he could get in there before he cooked dinner. And to his delight, he saw your Bronco in the driveway when he drove down the street.

"Excellent," he muttered, trying to waddle up the walkway with a semi erect cock in his khakis. Ah, but you knew him so well. You knew he was going to be a mess all the time now. When he walked inside, you were standing there in the living room topless. He could barely see your lace panties for the size of your belly, but you were smiling as a droplet of your milk formed on your left nipple.

"Hi, Daddy," you greeted playfully, and he took two steps into the room before the look on your face changed from smiley to shocked. "Oh!" you gasped, looking down at your feet and taking a step backwards. "I think... oh my god. I think I just wet myself!"

Bradley's eyes went wide as he dropped everything he was holding. "Sweetheart. I think your water broke."

-----------------------------

She's coming!!! Rosie!! I'm so damn excited! Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 15

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[notjustjavierpena]

4.0

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Aaaand Operation 4.0 has started.

Summary: Your cycle-app tells you that your ovulation is peaking at three in the morning.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no y/n)

Tags: +18, domestic bliss, the Peñas are trying for a baby, implied miscarriage in the past, piv sex, clit stim, breeding kink, dirty talk, praise kink, creampie of course

Word count: 1.9k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53019580

4.0

Your phone lights up with a sharp blue light in the dark room. Along with the assault on your eyes, it brings along with it a pinging sound going off loud enough to wake you as if it were the noise of the baby monitor. You reach for the phone on the bedside table, unplugging the charger to check the notification in case it is anything important at this ungodly hour of the night. Besides you, Javier continues snoring without registering even the slightest disturbance. 

The screen lights up once more as you press it, making you squint with a huff as you read the text on your lock screen. You groan ever so slightly; it is your pregnancy app and it is telling you to try for a baby right now.

‘Feeling frisky? Your ovulation is peaking right now!’ it says, and behind the notification, you spot that it is 3:18 am. You suppose that some people are really that dedicated, and as you read the text once more, you wonder if you and your husband are those people. 

It is in the middle of January. You started trying for a baby around Christmas, and you immediately downloaded the app for an extra helping hand in keeping up with your cycle; it has not been the easiest to conceive in the past when you’ve intentionally meant to do it. Getting pregnant with Lucas was a process filled with tears, frustration, and anger whenever you took a pregnancy test and it only showed a single line. Inés was a different story altogether as it was also filled with grief from a horrifying night at the hospital and a shattering thought that there might have been four already at this point. 

Perhaps you should take your phone seriously. 

With a yawn, you put it down again and turn around to nudge Javier. He doesn’t wake up until you shake him gently, following it up by a loud whisper, “Javi.”

“Jesus Christ, what?” Javier groans, eyes not even open.

“It’s baby time,” you say with a tired voice.

“Now? Fuck, what time is it?” He turns onto his side to face you. 

“It’s twenty minutes past three,” you reply and reach down to slip out of your underwear. You fight the urge to fall asleep again, “Pants off, Peña. It’s now.”

“Ever the romantic…” He chuckles, eyes long slits from fighting to stay open. Yet he still manages to take a bit of control of the situation (if he hadn’t, you had probably offered to ride him), bending one of his legs to allow himself to come closer to you, “Turn away from me.”

You do as you are told, facing away from your husband and scooting back until your ass aligns with his crotch. You look over your shoulder in anticipation, desire slowly pooling in your belly despite the lack of spontaneity and adventure in somewhat planned sex. 

Javier sighs the same kind of sigh that he makes when you finally touch him but instead, it’s his own hand wrapping around his soft cock after pulling the waistband of his briefs to sit underneath his balls. 

You hear him stroke himself in the dark, letting out a breath when it starts working and he feels the first stirrings of pleasure. He is hard not long after, and you find yourself wet from hearing him fist his own cock for you. 

The blunt head presses against your cunt a moment later and makes you moan quietly at the intrusion. You rest one arm in front of you, bending your elbow to rest your hand under your cheek and grip the edge of the double bed with the other. 

Slowly, Javier enters you and moans behind you as well. He spoons you the same way as you sometimes sleep, and when he is deep enough inside of you so you are chest to chest, front of his thighs against the back of yours, he starts rolling his hips until you can’t help but make a noise.

The arm that he isn’t lying on slips around your waist and his hand splays over your loose t-shirt. He gropes you lazily, kneading one of your breasts as you slowly fuck in the darkness. Soon, you hear the squelch of your cunt mix with your deep breaths. 

“You like this, mi amor (my love)?” He makes a groggy attempt at dirty talking. 

“Mm-hm,” you whimper, mouth falling open in a silent groan when he hits something inside of you just right. Your eyes shut, a little line forming between your brows as he works his cock into you over and over whilst pinching and pulling at your nipple. 

When he does it again, you clench around him, and his breath hitches. He wants more of that, the hand on your chest sliding down over your waist to finally rest on the back of your thigh. He pushes gently and you take the hint to bend your top leg as far up towards your chest as it can go. Then he uses a little effort to dig between your thighs and rest his hand over where you are connected.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you nod repeatedly without him being able to see. The bliss on your face as he presses two fingers down on your clit can be heard in the sound you make. He thrusts a little harder, rubs your clit like he knows how much you love. Underneath you, the bed shakes. 

“My girl,” he says affectionately and you cry out for the first time because he sets off a string of flutters in your womb with his fingers on your pulsing clit. Is it possible that he fucks you better because he is so tired, mind going on autopilot and leading him back to his basic instincts? 

When you let out another cry, the hand that isn’t between your legs goes underneath your jaw and cheek until he can cover your mouth from behind. He successfully holds in your next very vocal approval of what he is doing. 

“You take my cock so well,” he says lazily, grinding harshly into you until you sob into his hand from how much your pussy throbs, “Good fucking girl.”

“More,” you beg desperately despite being muffled. Javier hears you though and knows what you want from having heard you babble into his hand so many times. It’s like knowing a secret language of yours. 

The springs in your mattress creak. Javier relents his continuous touch to your clit to settle his hand on the back of your knee. He lifts your leg and fucks roughly into you, balls slapping against you from behind. 

The new position makes him able to push against your g-spot, cockhead nudging at your front wall each time he pushes determinedly into you. With how horny you are due to the excitement of him getting you pregnant, you think you might just be able to come untouched. 

Still, he slides his hand down to wrap his fingers around your ankle, yanking until you lock your leg behind his thigh. It gives him the option of reaching down between your legs again, thumbing repeatedly at your clit until he starts getting you towards orgasm.

His lips connect with your shoulder, kissing your sweat-slicked skin as he rubs you off. You can do nothing but take it, overwhelmed by him filling you up again and again whilst making your cunt tighten around him as you get closer and closer. It is hard to determine where you end and he begins when you are together like this.

“God, you are going to come, aren’t you, baby?” He whispers with ragged breath, “Can feel this pussy trying to show me who is boss. God, she’s tightening real good around me.”

Briefly, you twist your neck so you can, somewhat, look back at him. He lifts his hand from your mouth to kiss you deeply, swallowing down your moans that are climbing in pitch. 

You feel like you might be steaming by now, your heartbeat nearly making you dizzy and your lower abdomen twitching. He has you so close, so fucking close that you want to cry and so close that—

Your whole lower body snaps like a pulled elastic band. You cannot continue kissing your husband, turning your head to look forward as you start crying out and shaking whilst your pussy comes so hard that you can hear wetness making Javier’s cock sound obscene inside of you.

He quickly clamps his hand down on your mouth again, letting you practically scream against it whilst your body won’t stop sending pleasure out from your twitching clit.

“Shh,” he shushes you with just a hint of teasing condescending tone as you try to come down from your intense high. However, with the way that he continues fucking you, it becomes hard not to make a sound like wounded animal into his palm, “Don’t cry, Momma. I’ll fuck my baby into you, I’ll give you a baby and you will never forget that I came inside your wet cunt, made you all sticky for me. Is that what my girl wants?”

You whine in approval of his plan, relishing in your oversensitive pussy squeezing around him as if to pull his come from him, and reaching with your outstretched arm to peel his hand from your mouth, “Yes, fuck— baby, please. Put a baby in me.”

With that, Javier retracts his arm underneath you to grab your lifted leg with both hands. He digs his fingertips into your plump flesh, using your thigh for leverage so he can move inside of you whilst simultaneously dragging you down on his cock repeatedly. He radiates heat and desperation, tired body having been possessed by newfound strength to meet his own destination, the whole purpose of this. 

His hips start to stutter as he comes, (hopefully) fucking a baby into you. There’s a sharp intake of breath and then warmth fills up your ripe cunt, his seed planting itself as deep inside of you as he can manage. He holds your thigh harshly, making you unable to move, and groans with each pulse of his dick inside of you. 

He stays like that until he starts to soften. You make a sound in unison when his length starts to slip out of you, and without saying a word, he helps you onto your back again so he can kiss you longingly. You cup his face and tell you how much you love him. 

“Pillow,” he reminds you when you need air fairly quickly after kissing him. You are exhausted. 

“Right,” you yawn and automatically lift your legs. Javier stuffs one of the decoration pillows underneath your knees, essentially making it as hard as possible for his come to leave you, “I think that was the one. It can’t not have been.”

“We’ll have to leave you like that to make sure,” he sounds exhausted too, “I’ll take the kids tomorrow.”

“Really?” You close your eyes.

“We could also drop all of them off at Pop’s,” he jokes, “And make babies until we aren’t in doubt about its success.”

You chuckle, “We’ll see.”

In the quiet dark, you hear him wipe himself down with wet wipes from his nightstand, hissing once from oversensitivity, and then not long after, you hear snoring again. 

Next month, you’ll take a pregnancy test and you’ll see two red lines.

.

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