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drabbles-mc · 1 year ago

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Not Yours Anymore

Steve Murphy x OC Mari Fernandez

For Day 24 of @narcosfandomdiscord's July Smut Challenge: exes having sex

Warnings: 18+, language, smut, hair pulling, alcohol, light angst, Steve being a lil bastard man

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: the way i craft up a new OC and immediately fall in love with her. trust that i WILL be looking for excuses to write more of her in the future sksksk

Narcos Taglist: @garbinge @sizzlingcloudmentality @panagiasikelia @616wilsons @hauntedforsst @mirabee @buckybarneshairpullingkink @boomclapxox @nessamc @supersanelyromantic @padbrookcottage @mysun-n-stars @raincoffeeandfandoms @justreblogginfics @ashlingnarcos @proceduralpassion @artemiseamoon @hausofmamadas @narcolini @cositapreciosa (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

There was a moment when Maristela thought that she was hearing things. It’d been so long since she’d gotten a good night’s sleep that she thought she might’ve finally lost it. She tossed and turned, her thick dark curls spreading across the pillow and getting dangerously close to getting in her mouth as she did so. She tried to force herself to just go back to sleep, enjoy what precious little bit of rest she was getting, when she realized that the knocking sound wasn’t stopping. Someone was actually at her door.

She didn’t have to check the time to know that it was too late for visitors. Grabbing her gun off her bedside table, she fumbled her way out of bed and made her way to the other end of her apartment. She was shaking her head the entire way, partly to wake herself up, partly because she was already annoyed with whoever it was, whatever the situation was about to be.

Standing up onto her tip-toes, she glanced through the peephole. When she saw who was on the other side, she sucked in a slow, deep breath. She was reaching for the deadbolt when the knocking picked up again. She almost turned around and left him stranded there off the principle of it.

There was one more forceful knock before she heard him speak up from the other side. “C’mon, Mari.”

Rolling her eyes, she pulled the door open. Steve froze up, fist raised and ready to start knocking again. Her eyes flicked from his hand to his face. “You wake up Señora Sanchez down the hall with that shit, I won’t stop her from beating you with her newspaper.”

Steve meant to have something witty to say in response to that. He was usually better at that, the bitterness that they tried to pass off as the same rough sarcasm everyone used with each other throughout the base. But after everything that had happened that day, and then to show up and see her standing in front of him the way she was, all of his thoughts came to a screeching halt.

Her hair was messy, frizzy from sleep. He knew that she’d been tossing and turning based off that alone. Despite the remnants of eyeliner that were smudged beneath her eyes, darkening her already dark circles, she looked more alert than he’d felt before she opened the door. He saw the way she clutched her gun tightly in her hand. Her finger wasn’t on the trigger, but it wasn’t far from it either.

He could’ve handled all of those details with some semblance of grace. Or at least, whatever he had that was as close to grace as he could get. But then he saw her standing there in one of his old t-shirts. One that had rips along the seam of the collar, one that he was fairly certain she’d told him to throw out on more than one occasion. And yet she clearly hadn’t gotten rid of it either.

When he had stood there staring at her long enough without saying anything, she prompted him. “What, Murphy?”

He snapped out of it at the sound of her voice, more specifically at the sound of her calling him by his last name as she stood there in his fucking clothes. “I don’t think you get to call me that when you’re still wearing my shit,” he said, gesturing to the shirt she was wearing.

Looking down at herself, she scoffed. “You left it behind—not your shit anymore.” She paused, again waiting for an answer, an explanation, that didn’t come. “So? Did you actually finally come to get your t-shirts back or…?”

He sighed, shaking his head. “Can I just,” he looked up and down the hallway, like he was starting to worry that your neighbor might come out of her apartment with a rolled up newspaper in her hand, “can I come in?”

She thought on it for a beat longer than she should have before finally stepping back, opening the door a little wider for him to step through. As he stepped past her, Mari could catch the scent of liquor, of cigarette smoke. One of those things was a constant with him, and one of them wasn’t. She put the locks back in place on the door, buying herself an extra couple of seconds, also giving him the same in case he suddenly felt like spitting out the reason he had shown up at her door in the middle of the night.

When she turned back around to face him again, the expression on his face had shifted. He still looked tired, still a little over it. But the edge in his features softened just slightly. Taking the few steps from the door to the center of her living room where Steve was standing, Mari raked her hand back through the mess of hair on top of her head. Steve couldn’t help but to notice the way the hem of his shirt crept slightly higher up her thighs as she did so. He also was too aware to miss the fact that it didn’t seem like she was wearing any shorts underneath it.

“Murphy,” she repeated, “what’s going on? Why…” she trailed off for a moment before deciding that the question didn’t need to be built out anymore. “Why?”

He shut his eyes for a moment, trying to fight the urge to snap back at her. An argument was so inviting. It was easy, and they were good at it. But he didn’t need a fight. “Please, Mari,” each word felt like a herculean effort as he tried to keep his tone in check, “can we drop the agent-officer bullshit for a minute? Please?”

That was the most she could ever remember hearing him say the word please. Stepping away, she went to the kitchen and grabbed a glass for each of them. The clatter of her gun against the counter felt deafening with how silent her apartment was.

“What happened?” she asked as she poured whiskey into both of them, a little more in hers than his.

He shook his head. “I feel like I’m losing my fuckin’ mind.”

She shrugged as she put the bottle away. “You probably are.”

“What the fu—”

“I’m sorry, did you come to your ex’s apartment in the middle of the night looking to be coddled?” she asked, the question as sarcastic as it was genuine. She had no idea what the fuck Steve would want from her at this point. He certainly hadn’t seemed like he wanted anything from her when he left her a few months before, throwing all her things that were at his apartment into a box and dropping it off like a care package.

“I don’t,” he shook his head as he walked into the kitchen, taking one of the glasses she’d poured for himself, “I don’t know. Who else was I gonna go to?”

“You and Peña in a spat or something?”

“He wouldn’t get it,” he mumbled out before taking a sip of the drink in his hand.

Mari shook her head. “I don’t think you get it.” She saw the incredulous look on his face and shrugged before downing more of her drink than she probably should have at once. “What? I still don’t know why you came banging on my door tonight.” She swirled the liquor around in the glass. “What do you want from me, Steve?”

His eyes dropped to the glass in his hand. “I don’t know.”

“Not to be a dick,” she took another sip of her drink, “but you remember that you left me, right? If you wanted middle of the night chats, maybe you shouldn’t have dumped me.”

The lack of fault in her statements stung, but still Steve said, “You still let me in.”

“Want me to kick you out?” she countered without hesitation.

“Mari—”

“Quit,” she waved him off with her hand that wasn’t holding her glass, “fuckin’ saying my name like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you give a shit about me still. Like you’re not just here because you didn’t wanna be alone and you’ve got nowhere else to go.”

“Where do you go when you feel like that?”

The question he asked was not the question he meant. What he meant was who do you go to when you feel like that, but she didn’t correct him. “Nowhere,” she replied honestly. “I buckle the fuck down and get through it. Because the last time I tried going to someone,” she motioned back and forth between them, “we ended up here.”

“Want me to go?”

She let out a deep sigh. “So I can feel extra shitty when you leave and go get in a fight with some guy at a bar somewhere? End up in jail, or the hospital?” She shook her head. “No. You can sleep on the couch.”

The lift in his eyebrows said that he wanted to make a comment about the couch, but he was smart enough to, just this once, keep his commentary to himself. “Thanks.”

“Yea.” She finished off her drink, grabbing her gun before going to leave the kitchen. “Wait here. You can borrow one of my shirts.”

“Your—”

“You left them!” she called back.

Steve had no better judgment left at that point, so he found himself following Mari back towards her room. He assumed that she could hear him behind her, but she didn’t say anything. He lingered in the doorway for a moment as she crossed the threshold. It looked pretty much the same as the last time he’d been there. He watched her as she crossed the room to her dresser. She crouched down, pulling open one of the bottom drawers where, he assumed, she kept whatever shirts he’d left behind.

His brain couldn’t take the time to process the weight of that when he saw the way his shirt rode up, revealing the black fabric and lace that made up her panties. He sucked in a quick breath, the sound much more obvious than he had bargained for. He knew that Maristela heard it, because she was shaking her head as she balled up one of his shirts in her hand and stood back up. She nudged the drawer shut with her foot before turning around.

Steve was completely inside her room now. He was looking around, as though that would make it seem like he hadn’t just been staring at her. She tossed the shirt to him. “Couch is out in the living room, in case you forgot.”

He chuckled, catching what she’d just thrown. “Right.”

She collapsed the distance between the two of them. Looking up at him, she said, “Goodnight, Murphy.”

Dropping his head back, Steve stared up at the ceiling for a moment before letting his eyes close. “Can you not, with that?”

“What?”

Tilting his head back down, he looked at her. He leaned in, towering over her. “You know what.”

“If you wanted to stay on a first-name basis, maybe you shouldn’t have—”

He cut her off by pressing his lips against hers. He felt the way that she didn’t give in for a moment, the hesitation lasting just long enough to make him think that he was about to be on the receiving end of a palm to the face. He wouldn’t really be able to blame her for it. His body tensed up in return as he braced for it, but instead her palm landed against his chest as she finally let herself give into him.

Steve let the shirt she’d just handed him drop to the floor as he brought both his hands to her sides. They lingered for a moment before sliding down over her hips. He pushed the fabric of the t-shirt up, bunching it until the pads of his fingers were grazing across skin instead of cotton. His fingers splayed across her back, sliding down until they were slipping just beneath the waistband of her underwear.

She broke their kiss as he maneuvered her back towards her bed. “You’re still sleeping on the couch,” she said, her breath warm against his skin.

He kissed her again, rough and brief, teeth tugging at her bottom lip just slightly as he pulled away. “No one’s sleeping yet.”

Steve picked her up, all but tossing her onto the mattress. He peeled his shirt off over his head, tossing it aside before undoing his belt and pushing his jeans to the floor. He was down to just his boxers as he climbed up onto the bed, positioning himself over her, slotting one leg between hers. He kissed her, hand creeping up to cup the side of her face for a brief moment before his fingers wound their way back into her hair. He gripped onto her and pulled, earning a moan from her as her eyes shut, her body moving with the force he was giving. She arched her back, her core grinding against his thigh that was between her legs.

He only let go over her so that he could pull her underwear down her legs. Once they were low enough Mari kicked them off the rest of the way. Her legs were trembling with anticipation as his hand snaked up the inside of her thigh.

“Oh my god,” Steve’s words came out somewhere between a whisper and a moan as he trailed his fingers between her legs, feeling how wet she already was.

Mari tried not to think too much about the sound of Steve’s voice in that moment, tried not to let it sink its claws into her the way that it used to. Instead she gripped onto the waistband of his boxers and started to push them down. A distraction but also something that got them closer to the end goal.

Steve was quick to help her kicking out of his boxers and tossing them off the bed. He pulled her legs so that they were wrapped around his waist. His hand came back to the side of her face. He was about to pull her lips to his, thrust into her and lose himself, but she planted her palm flat against his chest. Her arm was stiff, keeping the barrier between them.

Confusion crossed Steve’s face. “What—”

She answered with her actions instead of her words. Shifting her hips and pushing against his chest, she easily maneuvered the two of them so that their positions were reversed. Steve was flat on his back beneath her, Mari left straddling his waist. He looked up at her, eyes a little wider than they had been. The smirk that was curling the edge of his mouth made Mari’s thoughts get fuzzy for a moment before she remembered the reality of it all.

His hands found purchase on her waist, gripping tight as he lined her up with him. Her palms were flat against his chest, fingertips setting into him just slightly as her eyes raked down his entire body until they reached the point where they were about to be connected. She felt the delicious dig of his grip as he pulled her, thrusting into her.

She would’ve hated how easily they found their rhythm again if it didn’t feel so good. Steve’s hands ran up her back, her fingers curling over the curves of his shoulders as her hips rolled against his. She could feel the tension in Steve’s muscles, the way he was fighting to have any semblance of self-control. His eyes roamed over her body and face. For as much as he was losing himself in the feel of her, all the sensations he thought he’d never get to experience again, he couldn’t help but to soak up the look of her too. The way her jaw was a little lax, the way her hair was starting to fall in front of her shoulders. Maybe he didn’t have the right to be looking at her like that anymore, but then again he didn’t have a right to be doing most of what he’d done already so he might as well go for broke.

Mari moved her hands from his shoulders. Steve watched as she brought them to the bottom hem of the shirt she was wearing. She was about to take it off, easily slip it off over her head and toss it aside with everything else. Before she could, Steve reached out and stopped her, grabbing tightly onto her wrists. She stilled as she looked down at him, traces of confusion lingering in her features along with everything else.

His voice came out low, raspy as he said, “Leave it on.”

She hated that he said it like that. Hated even more that it sent a jolt right to her core to hear it. She listened, though, relinquishing the fabric from her grip. She shook her head at Steve, leaning down to bring her lips to his in a kiss. Right before she did, she muttered out a quiet, “Motherfucker,” before locking her lips onto his.

Once she leaned down to kiss him, Steve wrapped his arms around her. He kept her close, feeling her hips move against his as her tongue slid along the inside of his bottom lip. In that moment the mess of everything was blotted out. It was just her pressed against him, all of the complications of it gone for the time being. Life outside the four walls of her bedroom didn’t exist and they were both better for it.

He could feel that she was getting close, the whines she let out, the intensity of her movements. Steve gripped onto her hair again, pulling her head back just enough so that he could get access to her neck, sinking his teeth into the sensitive skin there. He felt the way Mari’s nails dug into him in retaliation, but it only served to help pull him over the edge with her. His other hand glued itself to her hip as he came, pinning her as tightly to him as he could manage as he spilled into her.

She was breathless as she let herself collapse against him. All the tension in her muscles was gone. Her head dropped, forehead pressing against Steve’s shoulder close to where her nails had dug before. Both his hands drifted to her back, wandering over the fabric of the shirt she still had on.

After a few minutes of quiet between them, they each caught their breath. Mari carefully separated herself from Steve, flopping onto the mattress beside him. She was staring up at the ceiling and she could feel him looking over at her.

“You still have to sleep on the couch,” she said, draping her arm across her forehead.

He chuckled. “You sure?”

“Positive.” Her eyes shut, heart still racing faster than it should’ve been in her chest.

“Fine. Gonna keep the shirt you gave me, though.”

She shook her head as she watched him slip back into his boxers and grab the shirt from the floor. She huffed out a quiet laugh as he made his way back towards the door. “Night, Steve.”

He was glad she couldn’t see the small shift in his expression as he registered the words. “Night, Mari.”

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