Playing Pretend
Pairing: Wrecker x Twi'Lek fem!Reader
Words: 16,373
Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! fake married, (not) unrequited feelings, Wrecker yearning x1000, some negative self talk, big "get your hands off my wife!" energy, some minor jealousy, smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, dirty talk, praise kink, size kink obviously, light dom!Reader
Summary: The mission is simple: infiltrate a lavish party, plant a bug, and get out. The only problem: Wrecker has to pretend to be married to you, and he's not so sure he can hide how much he likes it.
A/N: Happy Wrecker Wednesday! This is definitely the most self-indulgent thing I've ever written, down to the nonhuman reader bc I'm getting a little bored with humans. With this, we've officially reached the end of the fics I wrote before creating this account, and we're going out with a bang (literally).
Previous Work | Next Work | Masterlist
This mission is going to be a disaster.
It's not that Wrecker doesn’t trust you, quite the opposite. You’re quiet, quick, and resourceful, and you’re one of the smartest people he’s ever met. You're built for infiltration, for gathering intel, and as far as the Batch is concerned, you have yet to fail a mission. So no, there’s no doubt in his mind you're the perfect spy.
It’s his own ability that gives him pause.
Hunter, Echo, hell, even Tech would’ve been a better pick for any sort of espionage mission over him. When Hunter informed them Wrecker was the one that was going with you, Wrecker laughed. A full belly laugh that brought tears to his eyes and left his face aching, because the very idea of him sneaking around, being stealthy, well, it was ridiculous.
It was so ridiculous he was sure Hunter had meant it as a joke, but when he saw the serious look on his face, the one that told him his brother meant business, Wrecker began to sweat. He hasn’t really stopped since.
Lying and pretending are two things he’s truly terrible at, coupled with the fact that he’ll be alone with you, playing pretend with you, and he‘s been on edge ever since.
It doesn't help that Cid insisted the only way you could get close to the target is by posing as a married couple. One that are newlyweds, at that.
Wrecker knows this is a job, just a job, but it's still you.
He's still going to be touching you, and not because you need him to, or you want him to, but because the job requires it. And the whole thing just has him feeling weird. He knows you can fake being a couple, but he's not sure if he can.
As much as Wrecker hates lying and pretending, he really doesn't hate you. If he's being honest, he probably likes you too much. So that's why, when Hunter told him about the mission, and then later asked if he was alright with the details, Wrecker had said yes.
The look Hunter gave him told him that he didn't quite believe him, and Wrecker wasn't even sure he believed himself. After all, it's no secret he doesn't have the greatest poker face. He doesn't like lying, especially to his brothers. But he also doesn't like disappointing them, or disappointing you, and he's willing to do just about anything to make sure you're safe.
The rest of the night before the mission was spent planning and strategizing, which meant he didn't see much of you. He wanted to check in and make sure you were feeling good about the plan, but he never got the chance.
Now, here he is, in a small, nondescript hotel room with you, the rest of the squad holed up in the Marauder and waiting on your signal. The room itself is nice, but small, and there's only one bed. He’d felt his nerves spike when he first saw it, but he forced himself to relax. If everything goes according to plan, you won't be sleeping in it.
There are other things he's more worried about, anyway. Like how he's going to pull this off, and how he's going to manage not to fuck up, and most importantly, how he's going to manage spending the entire mission trying not to get too wrapped up in you.
That last part is the hardest.
He's sitting on the bed, the holomap spread out on the small table beside it. Your target is a small-time gangster, and he’s having a party at his penthouse tonight, so it's the perfect opportunity to sneak in. All you have to do is go through the party, find the main office, plant a few bugs, and then get out.
Easy peasy.
At least, that's what Tech said.
Well, he said a lot more than that, but Wrecker had kind of zoned out around the time Tech started talking about security cameras and frequencies.
What he does know is the bugs need to be placed somewhere in the office, and the two of you will have to blend in and seem as natural as possible until you can make your way there. Easy for you, but Wrecker knows he'll stick out like a sore thumb, even if he isn't in his armor.
“You alright, big guy?”
Wrecker nearly jumps at the sound of your voice, heart in his throat as he feels your hand gently grab his arm. He tenses underneath your touch.
He can’t remember the last time you touched him, or even the last time the two of you were alone together. Probably because it hasn’t happened. He thinks he would remember if it had, because it feels electrifying. Your manicured hand, complete with a wedding ring, slides against the fabric of his suit. It takes everything in him not to shiver.
Then he turns to face you fully, and his eyes nearly fall out of his head.
No, he’s not alright.
You look absolutely stunning.
It's not like you don't look stunning every day, you do, and even when you're in armor, or covered in dirt and grime, Wrecker thinks you're beautiful. But this...this is something else. It's not fair.
You’ve shared a bit about Ryloth during your time together, and you’d mentioned that ever since you left the hot planet, you felt cold. He’s never seen you without a jacket except that one time you’d been shot in your shoulder, and even then, he was more focused on keeping pressure on the wound and getting you to safety than on what you were wearing.
But right now, he can't focus on anything else.
He, embarrassingly, tends to ogle whenever any inch of your vibrant skin is on display. He walked straight into a wall the time you stretched in front of him, and your shirt rode up to reveal a hint of the curve of your stomach. When he saw your legs in a dress at 79s, he shattered his glass. He couldn’t help it. That was one of the first times he realized he had a problem, but it certainly wasn't the last.
You're just...so much, all the time, and you don't even realize it. He's gotten better at being discrete, or at least, he's better at hiding his reactions.
But this is so, so much.
Made of some fancy shimmering black fabric, the top of the dress left nearly your entire chest exposed along with your arms. With two thin straps to hold it up, he doesn't know how it's staying in place, but he's sure if he looks hard enough, he'll find out.
A deep cut runs down the middle of the dress, starting right under your clavicle and ending in a point just below your stomach. It's long, coming all the way down to your feet and flaring out, and there are two slits up either side of the dress, exposing your thighs as you move.
There's no denying it, the dress is tight, and Wrecker is trying so hard not to look, honestly, but it's like his eyes are glued to your body.
You mentioned you would have a weapon on you just in case, but looking over you now — admiring the way the expensive fabric clung to every curve of you — he struggles to imagine where it could be.
He swallows. Hard.
The hand on his arm lets go to reach up and hold one of your lek, shifting it so both were draped over one shoulder. You’d gone all out with decorating them as well. Sparkling straps of black crisscrossed up to a velvet headpiece that takes the place of your usual bandana, all coming to a point high on your forehead, where a deep blue jewel sits at your crown. It shifts slightly with the raise of your eyebrows, and he realizes he's been staring, and he’s still not saying anything.
Wrecker forces out the first words on his mind.
“Wow! You look—wow..."
You give him a small smile, a hint of color darkening your cheeks, and his heart thuds in his chest. He wants to make you blush all the time.
He reaches out and grabs your hand, lifting it above your head with ease. Wrecker turns you into a spin, and he’s rewarded with your cute laugh and the sound of the dress swishing as you spin. And then he sees your back, entirely exposed all the way down to the dimples at the base of your spine, just above the curve of your ass.
Holy shit.
He has to look away, letting go of your hand to rub the back of his neck, feeling a little light-headed. This is already not going well.
“You clean up well yourself, handsome,” you say between a laugh, and he blushes more than he already is.
Wrecker doesn't consider himself all that good-looking, especially compared to his brothers, but you've told him once or twice he's not hard on the eyes. You've also told him he has a nice smile, which had him grinning like an idiot for a solid day. He's still smiling now, because hearing you call him handsome makes his heart pound in his chest.
Still, he's not used to all the compliments. It's a lot, especially when they come from you.
"Tech and Echo did the best they could, I guess," Wrecker shrugs. The motion stretches the threads of his dark suit, and he grimaces. It's itchy, and too tight, and he hates it. He doesn't get how people wear these things all the time. "Not really used to the fancy stuff."
You tilt your head, looking him over. He resists the urge to squirm.
“C’mere," you tell him, beckoning him with your hand.
Wrecker does as he's told, and your hands grab his tie. The feeling of you tugging him closer by the silk sends a rush of heat through his veins, and he can’t help but grin down at you as he watches you adjust it for him.
Your mouth is pursed, nose wrinkling slightly as you concentrate on getting it just right, even though you both know he'll likely mess it up in a matter of minutes anyway. You’re so cute, and you're so close, and it would be so easy for him to lean in and kiss you.
He's thought about it a lot, and he's almost done it once or twice, but then you'd pull back, or one of his brothers or Omega would come into the room, and the moment would be gone. It was probably for the best, considering he doesn't even know how you feel about him.
“Thanks," he mumbles.
You're still standing close, your chest practically touching his.
"Of course." The words are soft, and they leave him feeling hotter than ever.
He looks away from you, and catches sight of the two of you in the mirror. Wrecker has always been a bit of a sucker for a good romance, and this? This is right out of one of his favorite holovids. You're both dressed in the finest clothes, him in a suit, you in a gorgeous dress, and it's just the two of you against the world.
Except, this isn't real.
There isn't any grand romance, and the feelings that threaten to burst from his chest are his and his alone.
“You really do look beautiful," he says, his voice a little rough, but honest.
You meet his eyes in the mirror. He watches as the corner of your lips quirk up, and you look almost shy. It's adorable, and a little confusing, because usually, you're not so modest. He wonders what changed.
"I—thank you, Wrecker."
"And I'll keep sayin' it till you believe me," he adds, because it's true.
"Oh, I believe you," you laugh, and the sound warms him to the core.
"Yeah?"
You nod. "Yeah."
"Good. 'Cause you really do. You look—" Wrecker swallows, and then shakes his head. He's getting distracted, and it's not good, not when the two of you have a job to do.
"So do you."
You give his tie one last tug, and then take a step back. Your hands smooth down the front of your dress as you look down at your shoes. He can't tell, but he swears you look almost bashful. It's so unlike you that he wonders if you're actually okay.
"You sure you're good?" he asks, concerned.
You hum an affirmative, and then you mutter, “Just already looking forward to taking this off."
The words are mumbled, barely audible, and he doesn't think you intended for him to hear. Wrecker blinks, and his gaze travels down the length of your body, and his mouth goes dry. His mind can't help but wander. It would be so easy for him to reach out, hook his fingers in the thin straps holding your dress up, and just...
"Yeah, me too," Wrecker admits quietly, the words falling from his mouth without thought.
A second passes. Two.
Wrecker's brain catches up to his mouth. He sees the shift of your jaw and the bob of your throat, and he wishes the ground would swallow him up.
"Uh, yeah, I mean," Wrecker starts, trying to backtrack and failing, "because I hate this thing, and it's not very comfortable."
It's not the worst lie he's told, but it's pretty far up there. Still, the look of relief that crosses your face tells him you believe it. Your arms are crossed over your chest, holding yourself in a way that suggests you feel vulnerable, and the realization makes his gut twist.
Wrecker doesn't want to make you feel uncomfortable, and he feels terrible that he has. He didn't even realize that the dress, and the mission, could bother you. You always seemed so put together, and confident, and not bothered by much, that he just assumed you would be okay. But, you're not, and now he feels bad, and stupid.
"We don't have to do this," Wrecker offers, rubbing the back of his neck.
You shake your head, and he can see you forcing yourself to relax. "I can handle a few hours."
Wrecker isn't sure what to say. He knows you're capable, and he doesn't think you would offer if you didn't think you could do it, but the way you're standing makes him wonder.
"But you know if you don't wanna, that's fine too," he adds, because it is.
Hunter would probably give him an earful later, but you were the priority, and Wrecker would deal with whatever punishment was necessary to make sure you were safe and comfortable. He doubted Hunter would be mad, anyway. They're family, and family looked out for each other, and you were part of the team, too.
You look at him, and then down at the floor, and then back up at him.
"It's fine."
Wrecker bites his tongue, but only barely.
You're not fine, and he can tell, and it doesn't take a genius to figure out why. There's a reason you've always been the one chosen for missions like this, even back when you were still an intelligence officer and he was barely more than a shiny. It's not just because of your training and experience, but also because of the way you look.
The thought makes him angry. It isn't right, and he hates that you've been forced into this position. Until tonight, he'd held out some misguided hope that you wouldn't ever have to be put in a situation like this again.
He knows you can handle a lot more than most, but you shouldn't have to.
"Really, Wrecker, I'm fine," you say again, and it's only then that he realizes he's been staring at you.
"Are you sure? ‘Cause if—"
You step forward, putting a hand on his chest and looking up at him. His eyes catch on the shine of your lips, and the warmth of your hand against his chest makes his heart race.
"If you keep asking me, I'm gonna start to think you don't want to be my husband," you tease.
"I'd love to be your husband," Wrecker replies without missing a beat, and he means it.
The words are true, even if the context isn't. It's the closest thing he'll get to a wedding with you, and that thought makes him want to scream. Instead, he settles on smiling, even as his heart races and his palms sweat.
"I'm sorry, I just don't wanna make you feel—"
"I'm kidding, ma sareen," you say, shaking your head, "I know. But really, it's okay."
He gives a slow nod, not sure how to respond. You've called him that before, and while he doesn't speak Ryl, he does know it's a term of endearment. One that he's overhead Suu say to Cut a few times, and one that you've used with him, and only him.
Every time, it makes him smile. But it's one thing for you to say it casually, and another entirely to say it in front of strangers, pretending to be married to him. He doesn't know why the thought makes his heart pound in his chest, or his ears grow warm.
"And hey, at least I have someone who can protect me, right?"
He grins proudly, and nods. That, he can do.
"You got that right."
"Then what's there to worry about?" you ask, a smile on your face.
That I might embarrass you, is what Wrecker wants to say, but doesn't. Instead, he follows you towards the door. You pause just before stepping through, looking up at him expectantly. He doesn't quite understand until you reach out and hold your hand palm up.
"Well?"
"What?"
"Give me your hand, Wrecker," you laugh.
"Oh, right," Wrecker stutters, slipping his hand into yours.
His hands are rough and calloused from years of fighting, but your hand is soft and gentle, and he tries his best not to squeeze too hard. You lead him out of the room and to the lift. You lean against him, your head resting on his shoulder, and his breath catches in his throat.
"Relax, big guy, you've got this," you whisper, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.
Wrecker hopes you're right.
He's not sure how long the two of you have been here. An hour? Maybe two?
Whatever it is, it's long enough that his face hurts from fake smiling. His shoulders are tense, and he keeps a steady hand on your lower back, not willing to let go.
As soon as the two of you had walked through the door, the guards had taken your weapons, and it had been the first time Wrecker had felt truly unsettled since leaving the ship. Not only was he unarmed, but now, you were as well, and he was responsible for keeping you safe. They'd even taken the knife you'd tucked into the holster on your thigh.
They'd also frisked you, and while it wasn't the first time, or even the first time for him, it was the first time he'd seen it done like that. The guard had run his hands up the inside of your thigh, his thumb dangerously close to places he never should've been touching, and Wrecker had seen red.
The man was lucky all Wrecker did was grab his wrist and pull it away, his grip tight enough to bruise. The guard had stumbled, his face red as he tried and failed to apologize. It didn't matter to him. The bastard wouldn't be able to use that hand for a while, and Wrecker hadn't felt bad at all.
After, he'd wrapped his arm around your waist and held you close. He knows he probably shouldn't have, but he needed the reminder that you were safe. He could pretend it was just for show, but really, it was to comfort himself.
It doesn't help that every eye in the room has been on the two of you since you arrived, and while the stares are likely directed at you, Wrecker still doesn't like it. It makes his blood boil, and his skin crawl, and all he wants to do is get out of here. He hates how uncomfortable and vulnerable it makes him feel, and the fact that it's affecting him at all is embarrassing.
You seem to be doing just fine, chatting with various people, laughing and smiling and, unfortunately, flirting.
Not with him, no. With all the men and women around you.
It's the nature of the job, he knows that, but it still sucks.
You're doing your best to blend in, and it's working. He just tries his best to keep up with you. He doesn't trust any of these people, not even for a second, and the tension in his shoulders doesn't ease, no matter how hard he tries.
This is the first time he's been in a party like this, and he doesn't think he likes it.
When Tech had said the target was having a party, he'd expected loud music, maybe some dancing. What he got was an old-fashioned cocktail party, the type he's only ever seen in holovids, and the kind where the rich and powerful mingle and talk about politics and money.
It's boring, and the people are rude, and the lights of the chandelier make his eye twitch. But worst of all, no one can take their eyes off you, and he can't blame them. Even after the initial shock of seeing you dressed like that has passed, his eyes can't help but trail down the length of your body. And while you're definitely the most beautiful person in the room, he thinks there's a part of him that doesn't want anyone else to see you.
At least there's good food. And drink. And while he would never dare touch you without permission, it's nice to know he can do so now.
So he's taken every opportunity to do just that, to let everyone around know that you're his. He's kept his hand on the small of your back, the curve of your hip, the bend of your waist, and he's made sure to be close to you at all times. You don't seem to mind, which is the best part, and it makes his chest swell with pride.
Your arm is tucked around his, your fingers laced with his own, and he loves the way you lean into him, like you need him, like he's a safe place for you. He doesn't know if you do, but it doesn't stop him from wishing.
Wrecker looks at the ring on his finger. It's a simple gold band, nothing fancy, and it reminds him that this isn't real. It's just for the job, and he has to keep reminding himself of that. Because if he doesn't, it'll be easy for him to lose sight of that. And if he loses sight, he might do something stupid, like kiss you, and he's not sure if he'd be able to stop.
"So, where did you two meet?"
Wrecker tears his gaze away from you and to the Twi'lek across from him, her blue lekku adorned with jewels. He has no idea who she is, but the two of you are getting along so well he doesn't want to interrupt. You're the only Twi'leks in the room, and he thinks that might be the only reason the two of you are talking at all.
"Oh, it's a little embarrassing, actually," you answer, a shy smile on your face.
You squeeze his hand and glance up at him, and his stomach flutters.
"Not really," he mumbles, cheeks warm.
"You don't think so, but I might," you giggle, and Wrecker can't help the way his mouth quirks up in a smile. He wants to kiss your forehead, or your cheek, or your lips, but he doesn't.
The Twi'lek woman laughs and sips her drink, leaning in close to listen.
"C'mon, tell me, I'm dying to know."
Wrecker's not sure what story you've told everyone else, so he's not sure if this is part of it, but the way you look up at him makes his heart skip a beat. You squeeze his hand again, and he wonders if it's supposed to be a sign. It's a little distracting.
"Well, um, we met when he saved my life."
Wrecker nearly chokes on his drink.
The Twi'lek raises a brow, glancing between the two of you. "Really?"
"Mhm."
"That's not embarrassing."
"Yes, it is. Because he saved my life, and instead of being grateful, I called him an idiot," you tell her, a blush rising to your cheeks.
It's the truth. When you were still an officer, your unit was under fire. You'd been separated from your squad, pinned down, and Wrecker had found you. He'd pulled you from your hiding spot and out of the way, and the two of you had barely escaped unscathed. But the first words you'd said to him were, 'You idiot, you almost shot me.'
In his defense, he was a little distracted at the time.
"What did you say to that?"
Wrecker shrugs, taking a sip of his drink. "Not much."
You look up at him, your eyes shining. "I mean, he did save my life, so I apologized, obviously."
"Obviously," the woman nods.
"And, um, well," you stumble, and Wrecker wonders what's making you so nervous. It's not like you to be caught off guard, but you seem almost embarrassed. "He's the kindest man I've ever met, and I was immediately charmed by him."
Wrecker can't hide the surprise that crosses his face, but he does his best.
"It was hard not to fall for him," you admit, a softness in your voice that wasn't there before, "and, well, here we are."
Your gaze meets his, and the tenderness in your eyes takes his breath away.
"So romantic," the woman sighs, and you nod in agreement.
"Yeah, it's...it's somethin'," Wrecker says quietly, his chest tight.
He doesn't think anyone's ever talked about him like that, let alone in front of a bunch of strangers.
You lean into him, a soft smile on your face. Wrecker's hand slides from your waist to rest on the small of your back, and his eyes linger on the curve of your lip, the slight shimmer on your cheek. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and your eyes drop down to watch the motion, and his heart thuds against his ribcage.
He can't help but wonder if maybe there's some truth to what you're saying. It's not like you've been lying the entire time, and Wrecker isn't naïve. He knows this is all part of the act, but the way you're looking at him makes him feel like you might mean it.
Wrecker can't help the way his mind wanders, or the way his stomach flutters when your lips brush his ear as you whisper, "You alright, darling?"
His breath hitches in his throat, and it's hard not to shudder as you trail a finger up his arm.
"Yeah, m'fine," he manages, the words shaky.
Your lips brush the shell of his ear, and he has to fight the urge to groan.
"We've got company," you whisper.
Wrecker tenses, scanning the room. It takes a moment for him to realize you mean the target. He's making his way through the crowd, and it's only a matter of moments before he's approaching.
"Mr. and Mrs. Kasta," he greets, an air of confidence in his voice, "welcome."
Wrecker nods at him, keeping his mouth shut. He doesn't trust himself not to say something stupid. He's already fucked up a few times tonight, and he doesn't want to embarrass himself. Besides, you're already taking the lead, smiling brightly at the man.
"Thank you for having us, Mr. Dralig," you tell him, giving a slight bow.
"Please, call me Bohme," he insists, returning the gesture. "Always a pleasure to meet such an esteemed couple as yourselves. You look ravishing, Mrs. Kasta."
You blush, and Wrecker fights the urge to roll his eyes. You are the most stunning woman in the room, and he can't imagine how this asshole could think otherwise, but the compliment still makes him bristle. He can't understand why you don't seem more annoyed.
"Well, thank you," you say, a hint of laughter in your voice.
"I do hope you're enjoying yourselves," Bohme continues, "the food, the music, the view."
The man's eyes linger on you for a moment too long, and Wrecker doesn't have to be a genius to figure out what he means.
"Oh, yes, very much so," you reply easily, ignoring the implication, "thank you."
Bohme nods, and then turns his attention to Wrecker, giving him a quick once-over. Wrecker tenses. The man is short and thin, his features pinched and pale, but his eyes are sharp, and his mouth is curved up in a smile that's almost predatory.
"I must say, I was a little surprised when I learned the Kastas would be joining us tonight. I was told they were unable to make it."
Wrecker narrows his eyes, watching the man carefully.
"Yes, well, our schedules opened up, and my husband was able to move some things around. It's rare we get a night off, so I jumped at the chance," you tell him, reaching out to grab Wrecker's arm and squeeze it.
He's glad you're playing the part so well. It's definitely not something he's capable of, and he can't help but feel a little useless. But he can at least make sure you're not alone, and that this guy keeps his hands off you.
"Well, I'm glad you could make it."
"We're glad we could too. The party's been wonderful."
"Glad to hear it."
Wrecker shifts slightly, feeling the weight of the man's gaze. There's something unsettling about him, and Wrecker's never been able to hide his disdain for the people they're forced to work for. But Bohme's the mark, and so he tries his best not to stare, but he's never been good at playing nice.
"If I'm being honest, I thought the rumors were exaggerated."
Wrecker frowns, and you look a little surprised.
"Oh?"
"I see the scars aren't," Bohme adds, gesturing to Wrecker's face.
Wrecker doesn't reply, only glares. The scars have never bothered him, not really. Sure, sometimes people stare, or ask him about them, and sometimes that's more than a little awkward. But he doesn't hate them. He mostly just forgets they're there until he gets one of the phantom pains, or someone points them out.
This man, though, he's staring, and not with curiosity, but with judgement, and it makes Wrecker’s skin crawl. He clenches his jaw, looking for the words to tell him off that won’t make the entire operation fail, but thankfully, you're quicker than him.
"No, but I quite like them," you say, reaching up and brushing a hand over his scarred cheek.
Wrecker swallows, his head tilting down to meet your gaze. Your touch is gentle, your thumb brushing under his eye, and he watches as your eyes shift from cold fury to something warmer, kinder.
"They remind me of just how brave and selfless my husband is," you tell him, the words soft, almost as if they're just for him.
Wrecker blinks, his lips parting. He wants to respond, but his throat is dry, and he's not sure what he would say even if he could.
"And I would be lost without him," you add, your fingers sliding across his jaw.
He knows this isn't real, that it's just for show, and he's just a means to an end, but he can't help the way his heart races in his chest. Because the way you're looking at him isn't fake, and neither are your words. He doesn't know how he's so sure, but he is.
He can't find his voice, and he doesn't trust himself to speak, so instead, he takes your hand and presses his lips to the inside of your wrist. You gasp, and your mouth parts, and he's so focused on the warmth of your skin and the way you blush that he barely registers the sound of Bohme's laughter.
"Oh, to be young and in love."
Wrecker doesn't pay attention to the rest of the conversation. He doesn't care. All he can focus on is you. The way you look up at him, and the softness in your eyes. The way you're pressed against him, and the way his arm is wrapped around you, and the way it feels like you belong there.
You've always felt right in his arms, like you fit perfectly, and every time you touch him, he wonders if it's the last. That's how it is now. Like it could end at any moment. So, he's memorizing everything, every detail, the feel of your skin, the sound of your voice, the scent of your perfume.
Because when this is all over, he'll never be close to you like this again, and he'll never forget it.
"Ma sareen."
He snaps out of his trance at the sound of your voice. "Hmm?"
"Could you be a dear and get me a drink?"
"Sure thing, sweetheart."
Wrecker leans in, pressing his lips to your temple, and he relishes the way your cheeks turn red and the sound of your breath hitching in your throat. He doesn't know what he's doing. All he knows is that it's worth it to see the look on your face, and the way Bohme looks like he's swallowed a lemon.
He gives your waist a gentle squeeze and turns, making his way through the crowd to the bar. It's the furthest place from the door, and the longest walk of his life, because his head is swimming, and his heart is pounding, and it’s giving him too much time to think.
And when he does, all he can think about is you. He's not blind. He can see the way you've been looking at him tonight, and the way you're touching him. It's driving him crazy, and the more time he spends here with you, the harder it is to convince himself that you don't feel the same.
Maybe you do feel the same, and he's just been missing the signs, too afraid to see them. Maybe he should do something about it.
The thought is scary. What if he does, and he's wrong?
But then he remembers the way your fingers slid across his cheek, the way you leaned into his side, and the way you blush whenever he calls you sweetheart. It's enough to give him hope.
"What can I get for you?" the bartender asks.
Wrecker blinks, glancing down at him. He'd forgotten why he was here, and his cheeks warm as he fumbles for an answer. Champagne seems like the right call for you. You'd both had a few glasses earlier, and it was fine, but he needed something much stronger if he was going to have a chance at getting through the rest of the night.
"Whiskey, neat.”
He doesn't pay attention as the bartender pours his drink. He turns around toward where couples are dancing, scanning the room for you. When he finally finds you, his stomach twists, and he has to force himself to breathe.
Bohme has his hands on your hips, and your hand is on his chest, and the way his head dips toward yours sends a flash of anger through him. The two of you are dancing, swaying back and forth, and while Wrecker knows it's a mission, and that you're just playing a part, it still makes his stomach churn.
Because even from here, he can see the look in the man's eyes, and it's not one of someone who's just playing a part.
"Is that all?" the bartender asks.
"What—no, no. Give me another," Wrecker mutters, grabbing the first glass and downing it in a single gulp.
It burns his throat, but it's the distraction he needs, because the two of you are getting closer. He's not sure if Bohme is going in for a kiss, but he knows he's not going to be able to watch it happen.
The second glass goes down just as quickly, and Wrecker winces, slamming the glass back on the bar and turning around. He doesn't know what's come over him. He's not a jealous person. Never has been, not even a little. He's been on plenty of missions with you, and seen you get close with other men, and while he didn't like it, he's never felt this.
Wrecker pushes past the dancing couples and walks toward the two of you. As soon as Bohme's hand slides lower on your back, Wrecker knows it's too much. You've gone along with the plan, but Wrecker's not going to stand here and watch you be taken advantage of, not by him, or anyone.
He storms up to the two of you, ignoring the startled looks on your faces and those around you. Before he can even think about what he's doing, Wrecker wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you close. His hand settles on your lower back, your skin warm and soft against his palm.
"Can I cut in?" he growls, his voice low and gruff.
"Uh—"
"I was talking to my wife," Wrecker snaps, his eyes narrowed.
The man's face pales, and his mouth drops open. He glances down at you, and then back up at Wrecker, and then steps back, holding his hands up in surrender.
You press your hand to his chest, and the motion is so familiar and comforting that his shoulders relax. He looks down at you, and his breath catches in his throat. There's a hint of a smile on your face, and you look happy, and his stomach flutters.
"Of course, darling," you murmur, your fingers curling into his shirt, "we were just having a nice chat, weren't we, Bohme?"
Wrecker glares at the man.
"Yeah, sure, we were," the man replies, taking a step back.
Wrecker knows he should leave it alone, and let you take care of it, but the whiskey has loosened his tongue, and the man's wandering hands have left him feeling more than a little possessive.
"Don't get any ideas, pal. She's married," Wrecker tells him, his voice a deep growl.
He's being harsh, but he doesn't care. You've had to deal with this asshole enough for one night, and Wrecker's tired of watching him touch you, and talk to you, and look at you.
"Of course, I would never," Bohme says, shaking his head.
Wrecker's not convinced, but he's not going to start a fight over it. As much as he'd like to knock the guy's teeth in, he doesn't. For your sake. And for the mission's, though he's caring less and less about that as the night goes on.
"You alright, sweetheart?" Wrecker asks, his tone gentler, more concerned, as he leads you away.
"I'm fine, darling," you answer, giving his arm a squeeze.
He's not sure if he's imagining it, but he swears you sound a little breathy. Wrecker's not surprised. If his heart is racing from the adrenaline of pulling you away from Bohme, then yours probably is, too.
"Sorry I forgot your drink," he mutters as he picks up his pace, "that guy just rubs me the wrong way."
"It's okay," you say, looking up at him with a small smile. As the two of you get further and further away, you add, "I was kind of hoping you would."
He stops walking, his brow furrowing. "What?"
"Nothing, ma sareen."
"Wait, were you—" Wrecker glances over his shoulder, and the realization hits him. You'd known the whole time, and were counting on him to notice, and he had. He's not sure if he should be mad, or embarrassed, or something else entirely. "Oh."
You tilt your head, looking up at him with an amused expression. "Yeah, oh."
"That's why you wanted a drink, wasn't it?"
You bite your lip, a blush rising to your cheeks. "Well, I was thirsty."
"I—"
"I knew you wouldn't leave me alone with him."
"I wouldn't," he says, shaking his head, "not in a million years."
You look down, and his grip on you tightens. He doesn't mean to, but he's still shaken up, and your nearness is a comfort, even if it shouldn't be.
You lean into him, and he takes a step forward, pulling you close. His other hand comes up, his fingers brushing your cheek, and his eyes drop to your lips. He doesn't mean to touch you like this, but now that he has, he doesn't want to stop.
"I know," you say softly, your breath warm against his palm.
"Good," he murmurs.
Your hand slips down his chest, and Wrecker shudders. You're standing so close, and your face is only inches from his, and your eyes are shining. The words leave him before he stop them, his voice a low rumble.
"And I don't want anyone else touching you, either.”
The sound that leaves your mouth sends a rush of heat through his veins, and he has to fight the urge to kiss you.
"Good," you whisper, the word nearly lost to the music.
"Really?"
You nod, looking up at him through your lashes, and his heart skips a beat. "Mhm."
Wrecker lets out a shaky breath, his hand sliding down to cup your cheek. His lips are only inches from yours, and he's not sure if it's the alcohol or the dress, but he feels bold. Too bold.
"Then, is it okay if I—"
You press a finger to his lips, silencing him.
"Yes," you tell him, leaning closer, "but not here."
Wrecker freezes. Did he hear that right? Or is he imagining things?
"Why not?"
"Because," you start slowly, pressing a kiss to his cheek, "if you kiss me, I'm not going to want you to stop. And we're in the middle of a party, and the mission's not over."
Wrecker doesn't even realize his mouth has fallen open until you reach up and close it for him. Your touch is gentle, and his cheeks are warm, and the softness in your eyes makes him melt.
Your hand drags down to adjust his lapel before you slip something into his pocket.
"Got his keycard," you whisper, patting his chest.
Wrecker doesn't care. You could've told him you'd stolen the man's starship, and it still wouldn't have mattered. Not with the way you're looking at him.
"You're really somethin', y'know that?" he asks, and if he sounds a little breathless, he doesn't care about that either.
"So are you, ma sareen," you answer, smiling softly, "so are you."
"Almost done," you say, your voice soft, but urgent.
Wrecker is leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest, his gaze locked on you. He's careful not to touch anything in Bohme's office as you make your way around. His eyes are on the sway of your hips, and the soft curves of your body, and it's all he can do not to reach out and pull you against him.
You'd managed to slip away, and while Wrecker is a little disappointed the two of you had to leave, he knows the sooner you're finished, the sooner you can be alone.
"Anythin' you need help with, sweetheart?"
"No," you answer, "I got it."
You're bent over, looking for something, and the view gives him a perfect view of the curve of your ass. It's a bit distracting, and his mind is wandering. He's thinking about how nice it would be to hold you in his arms, and kiss you, and the things he would like to do if he had the opportunity.
The list is getting longer by the minute.
"Just need a few more seconds."
"I'm not in a rush," he answers with a shrug. His eyes are locked on your ass, and the way it moves as you work. You'd asked him to keep watch, and that's what he's doing, just keeping watch.
"Yes, you are," you say, a teasing lilt in your voice.
"Maybe," he admits, not bothering to deny it.
He doesn't care if it's a little pathetic, or desperate. He doesn't want to hide his feelings anymore. Not from you, and not from himself. He wants you to know, and to understand.
You glance over your shoulder, your eyes meeting his. You're wearing a smile that makes his stomach flutter.
"What are you thinking about?" you ask, a sultry note to your voice that makes his head spin. You walk over to the lamp on the wall and unscrew the glass. One of the bugs Tech had given you slips into the empty socket before you replace the bulb.
Wrecker blinks, his mind foggy.
"You."
You look surprised, and for a moment, he wonders if he's gone too far. But then, you smile, and he knows he's made the right choice. "Yeah? What about me?"
"Just how lucky I am," he tells you, the words sincere.
"Lucky?" you ask, raising a brow.
"Mhm."
You shake your head, letting out a soft laugh. "I think I'm the lucky one."
"I dunno. Pretty sure I'm the one who gets to take you home," Wrecker points out, a grin on his face.
Your eyes widen, and your lips part, and for a moment, you just stare at him, stunned. You let out a shaky breath, your face falling, and it's then that Wrecker realizes his mistake. You’re worth more to him than a quick roll in the sheets, and while he wants you, and the thought of it makes him hot and bothered, he's not interested in a one-night stand.
"I, uh, I didn't mean it like that," he stutters, his cheeks growing warm. “I—“
"Don't worry, darling, I know what you meant," you say, a hint of disappointment in your voice.
"It's not like—"
"We should go, Wrecker. The others are waiting."
"Right," Wrecker says quietly.
He doesn't like the tension in your shoulders, or the way you won't look at him. He's not sure what to say to fix this. All he knows is that the moment is over, and his heart is pounding.
When the two of you step out of the office, the door slides shut behind you, and he grabs your wrist. You don't stop, and you don't turn around. But you don't pull away, either.
"Hey, c'mon, just wait a sec, please."
You stop, letting out a quiet sigh. "It's okay, Wrecker, you don't have to—"
"But I want to."
You look up at him, your jaw set, and there's something in your eyes that tells him you don't believe him. It breaks his heart a little. Because it's true. He's been wanting you for a long time, and even if you don't feel the same, he's not going to let you leave without knowing it.
Wrecker takes a step toward you, and another, and another, until he's pressed against you. He lets go of your wrist, and his hand settles on your waist.
"Wrecker, what are you doing?"
"Trying not to be an idiot."
"You're not an—"
"Yeah, I am," he interrupts, a soft smile on his face. "I'm not good with words, and I don't always know the right thing to say. But I'm gonna try."
"Wrecker," you whisper, your eyes wide, "you don't have to."
"But I want to. I wanna tell you the truth."
"The truth?"
He nods.
"And what's that?"
"That I think you're the most beautiful person I've ever met," he tells you, his voice soft. "I think you're the bravest, and the kindest, and the smartest. I think you're the best, and I wish I was half the person you are."
"Wrecker, you're—"
He squeezes your waist gently. "Not done yet."
You smile up at him, a fondness in your eyes that makes his heart race, and you nod.
"And I know I don't deserve you, and I know you're probably just being nice, and that maybe, I'm reading into this too much, but I don't think so."
You look like you want to interrupt him again, but you don't. He's grateful.
"I think there's something here. Between us,” he says. “And I've never been good at keeping my feelings to myself. I think about you all the time, and I can't help it.”
"Wrecker, are you saying what I think you're saying?"
"I dunno.” He shrugs. “Maybe. Probably."
You shake your head, laughing. "Wrecker, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you're trying to tell me you have feelings for me."
"Well, that's because I do."
"What?" you ask, sounding almost as surprised as he felt earlier.
"Have feelings for you. I have a lot of 'em," he tells you, a smile on his face. It feels good to finally admit it. "I've had them for a while."
"How long?"
"Pretty much since I met you."
"Really?"
He nods. "Really."
"That's...a long time," you murmur.
"Mhm. So, that's the truth," Wrecker says. "And if you don't feel the same, or if I'm wrong, or if I'm misreading things, then just tell me, and I'll never bring it up again."
"I don't think I could," you answer, "not now, after all that."
"So, then, maybe—"
"Wrecker," you whisper, his tie and pulling him closer. Your lips brush his, and he has to fight the urge to groan. "I have a lot of feelings, too. I just didn't know you did."
"Yeah?" he asks, his voice hoarse.
"Yeah," you breathe, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.
He doesn't bother fighting the groan this time. He can't. Not when you're this close. Not when he can feel your breath against his skin. Not when your lips are ghosting over his, and the scent of your perfume is filling his nose, and the warmth of your body is pressed against him.
"Then, does this mean—"
"You can kiss me," you murmur.
Wrecker doesn't hesitate.
His mouth crashes against yours, his hands slipping down to your hips and pulling you against him. You let out a whimper, and it's all he can do not to moan.
He doesn't want to push too far, or scare you away, so he holds back. He kisses you with restraint, with tenderness, with love. Your lips are soft, and pliant, and your fingers tighten in his shirt as he deepens the kiss. It's even better than he imagined, and he's spent hours imagining it.
He doesn't care that anyone could see you. He doesn't care about the mission, or the bugs, or the fact that the others are waiting for you. He only cares about you, and the way you feel in his arms.
"Wrecker," you mumble, breaking the kiss.
"Hm?"
"We should go," you remind him, your voice soft.
"Right," he says, "just one more."
"One more," you agree.
Your lips are on his again, and it's just as good as the first time. Wrecker doesn't want to stop, and he doesn't, not until his comm buzzes, and his brother's voice rings out in his ear.
"Wrecker, status report. We need an update."
Wrecker groans, pulling away from you. "Tech, not a good time."
"Now is precisely the time," his brother replies, sounding exasperated. "What is the status of the mission?"
Wrecker glances at you, and you look back up at him with a soft smile on your swollen lips. You reach up, cupping his cheek, and the feeling is so comforting and sweet that his chest aches.
"It's good," Wrecker answers, smiling. "The mission is going really good."
"Good?" he hears Hunter repeat. He's not sure if it's confusion or disbelief in his voice. Maybe a little bit of both.
"Great," he corrects, leaning down to kiss you again. "Really, really great."
"Oh," Tech mutters, and Wrecker can hear the gears turning in his head. "I…did not expect that."
Wrecker smiles down at you. "Yeah, well, neither did I."
“I see.” There's a pause, and the sound of shuffling, some muffled voices, and then Tech adds, "In that case, we will let you get back to your, ah, mission."
"Thanks, Tech."
"Mhm," his brother hums, sounding a little awkward. "You’re welcome. We'll see you both when you return.”
The comm clicks off, and Wrecker sighs. "Guess we should get back to the ship."
"Yeah, we probably should," you agree, though neither of you move. "Or..."
He perks up. "Or?"
"Or, we could go back to the hotel," you suggest, a playful note in your voice. "We did pay for the night, after all. It would be a shame to waste it."
"A real shame," he nods, his voice grave.
"Besides," you add, your hand sliding down his chest, "we could use the extra time to...discuss the details of the mission. Make sure we're on the same page, and everything."
Wrecker bites back a moan. The feeling of your hand on his chest, and the sound of your voice, and the suggestion in your words, and the glint in your eyes. It's enough to make his knees weak.
"What do you think, ma sareen?"
"I think," he murmurs, kissing your neck, "that's the best idea I've ever heard."
The two of you barely make it through the door.
As soon as it slides shut behind you, Wrecker’s lips are on yours. His hands haven’t left your hips since you entered the elevator. He guides you backwards, his hands roaming across your back and sides. His teeth scrape against your bottom lip, and the sound you make sends a rush of heat straight to his cock.
Your back hits the wall next to the door, and Wrecker lifts you up, wedging a thigh between your legs. The dress is riding up, and his hand slips under it, and he's never been more grateful for Tech's insistence on getting a hotel room.
His tongue slides across the roof of your mouth, and he swallows the gasp that leaves your lips. Your nails dig into his shoulders, and you roll your hips, grinding against his thigh. The sound that leaves his mouth is embarrassingly needy as his hand moves higher, squeezing the soft flesh. Your knife has been safely returned to its holster, and his fingers run along the strap.
He wants to take his time with you, to make sure you know how he feels, but he can't stop touching you. You’re so soft, and he's been wanting to do this for so long, and the dress makes it so easy to find new places to explore.
"Wrecker," you whimper, arching against him.
He nips at your neck, and the soft whine that escapes your throat makes his knees weak. His hand squeezes the back of your leg, and his mouth travels lower, his teeth dragging across your collarbone.
"You look so fuckin' good in this," he tells you, his lips brushing the swell of your breasts. "Drivin' me crazy."
"Yeah?" you ask, reaching up to loosen his tie.
"Yeah," he grunts. He leans down, pressing his mouth to the tops of your breasts. You make a soft noise, and he smiles, his hand slipping up your thigh and pushing the hem of the dress higher. "Been thinkin' about taking it off all night.”
"Well, why don't you, then?"
Wrecker pulls away, and you look up at him, your eyes half-lidded and dark. Your cheeks are flushed, and your chest is rising and falling, and you look so fucking gorgeous, he can't stand it.
He doesn't respond. His lips find yours again, and he pushes your skirt up higher, his hands bunching the smooth fabric. He tries his best to be gentle, but it's hard. The thought of ripping the dress from your body, tearing it off and tossing it to the side is appealing, but he won't. It's not his to ruin, and he doesn't want to make you mad.
"This okay?" he asks, breaking the kiss.
"Yeah," you answer, nodding. Your hands join his, and together you pull the dress over your head, and toss it aside.
He nearly drops you.
He doesn't, but it's a close thing.
"You—oh, fuck," he groans, his head falling to the crook of your neck, "you weren't wearin' anythin' underneath?"
You let out a breathless laugh, and the feeling of it makes his head spin.
"Surprised?"
"Uh, yeah."
He's not sure what to say, or what to do.
The only thing he can think about is the way your bare pussy is pressed against his thigh. Your nails drag across his scalp, and he shudders. He’s pretty sure his brain is short-circuiting, because all he can do is stare at you.
Your makeup is messy, your headpiece a little crooked, and your chest is rising and falling in short, shallow breaths, and you're looking up at him with a smirk that makes him want to drop to his knees and worship you.
"What's wrong?" you ask, tilting his chin up. "You can't talk now?"
Wrecker grunts. You're teasing him, and he can't even pretend he doesn't like it. He likes it too much.
"You're not playin' fair," he complains, his voice gruff.
"No?"
"Nope."
"Well, neither are you," you say, rolling your hips. The motion drags your pussy across his thigh, and the dampness on his skin has him groaning. You lean forward, your mouth next to his ear. "So, what are you gonna do about it?"
He growls, and you gasp as his hands slide down, grabbing your ass. He hoists you up, putting your chest level with his face.
"Gonna show you," he rasps, "just how much you drive me crazy."
He's never seen anything hotter than the way you're looking at him right now, and he's not sure he ever will. He doesn’t want to close his eyes, doesn’t want to blink, but he can’t help it when his tongue darts out and his lips close around one of your nipples.
The soft sound that escapes your mouth makes his cock throb, and he presses your back against the wall, holding you up with ease with one hand as the other comes up to fondle your other breast. His tongue is hot and insistent against your skin, and your breath catches in your throat when he drags his teeth across the sensitive flesh.
"Fuck," you hiss, arching into him.
"Told ya you look good," he mumbles. He nips at the swell of your breast, and a moan escapes your lips. "Good enough to eat."
"Yeah?"
"Mhm," he hums. "Can I?"
"Please."
You let out a squeak as he hikes you up further, his lips ghosting over your ribs, and then your sternum, and then the soft swell of your stomach. Your thighs are draped over his shoulders, and his hands are on the backs of your legs, holding them up and apart, and the sight of you above him is almost too much.
"You smell so fuckin' good," he growls, burying his face between your thighs.
You're already wet, and his nose bumps against your clit as he presses his mouth to your pussy. You're so warm, and soft, and when his tongue slides against you, you moan, the sound desperate and needy.
"Shit, Wrecker," you gasp, your hands coming down to grab his head.
"Just relax," he tells you, his tone a little patronizing. "I gotcha, sweetheart."
He dives in, his mouth eager and unrelenting. He licks and sucks and nips at the sensitive skin, and when his tongue pushes inside, you arch your back, rolling your hips. Your thighs squeeze around his head, and the noises that are leaving your lips are sending sparks down his spine.
He does it again, and again, and again, trying to coax more of those sounds from your mouth. He wants to see what he can get you to do, wants to know what makes you cry out, and moan, and scream.
You're trembling above him, and your pussy is so wet, he can feel it running down his chin.
"Oh, fuck," you curse, and he can't help but grin.
Your hips buck against his face, and he grabs your ass, squeezing the soft flesh. His fingers sink into the plush skin, and he spreads you apart, his tongue circling your clit. You shudder, and your thighs tighten around his head. He can tell you're getting close, and he can't wait to feel you fall apart, to see your face twist in pleasure, and hear his name on your lips.
He's never been good at this. He's always felt a little out of his depth, a little awkward, a little clumsy. But he's learning. He's watching your reactions, listening to the sounds you make, feeling the way your body responds. And he's paying attention, because he wants to be the only person who can make you feel like this.
He knows it's possessive. He knows it's a lot, especially since the two of you haven't talked about what this means. But he doesn't care. Not right now. He just wants you, and he's willing to do whatever it takes to make sure that's what happens.
You're writhing above him, and he can feel the muscles in your thighs tensing as his lips close around your clit. He makes sure he's got a good grip on you with one hand before sliding the other in between your thighs, and he pushes one finger inside you, and then another.
"Wrecker!"
He's pretty sure that's the hottest thing he's ever heard.
He doubles his efforts, his fingers pushing deeper and deeper. He's not even sure if he's hitting the right spot, but from the way you're writhing, and moaning, and cursing, it seems like he's doing something right. Your walls are squeezing his fingers, and he curls them, trying to find the spot that will make you scream.
You do.
Your whole body tenses, your thighs clamping hard around his head, and you throw your head back, crying out. He watches in awe, his eyes wide, and his mouth slack as you come apart above him. He can feel it, can feel your walls tightening, and the rush of heat as you climax, and he can’t resist the urge to press a kiss to the soft, swollen flesh.
"Wrecker," you choke out, your voice cracking, and he knows he's never going to get enough of this.
He keeps his fingers buried inside of you as he pulls away from the wall. You cling to him, and he carries you over to the bed, lowering you onto the mattress. His fingers slip out of you, and he watches in fascination as you clench around nothing, your body still trembling.
"Fuck," he groans, dropping to his knees and burying his head between your legs again.
You let out a noise of surprise, and his hands push your thighs open, keeping them spread wide.
"You did so good, sweetheart," he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your swollen lips. He licks you clean, his tongue swiping through your folds. You squirm, and his grip on you tightens. "Gonna make you come again."
"Oh," you whimper, letting out a shaky breath.
"Just breathe, cyar'ika," he tells you, his lips trailing up your inner thigh. He can't get enough of the taste of you, or the way your body is reacting. You're still shaking, and the knowledge that it's because of him is making him delirious. He's pretty sure this is the best night of his life.
"I'm gonna make you feel good," he says, his voice soft and low. "I promise."
"You always make me feel good, Wrecker," you whisper.
"Yeah?"
"Mhm," you hum, nodding. "Always."
Wrecker grins and leans back, shoving his suit jacket off his shoulders. He's not sure where you want him, or how far you want to take things, but he's happy to follow your lead. He’s happy to do this all night, every night, for the rest of his life, if you asked.
He unbuttons the cuffs of his shirt and rolls up the sleeves, his eyes never leaving you. You're looking up at him, your cheeks flushed, your chest rising and falling. He can't believe he gets to see you like this, so vulnerable and trusting.
"What is it?" you ask with a tilt of your head. The motion moves your lekku, and Wrecker's gaze follows. He's fascinated by the way they shift, and sway, and twitch. He wonders what they feel like, if you’ll let him touch them, if they're as sensitive as he's heard.
"Nothin'," he answers, shrugging.
"Liar."
"No, really," he says. Then, a grin spreads across his face, and he can't help himself, "I just like lookin' at ya."
"Yeah?"
"Mhm."
"What about me do you like looking at, ma sareen?"
"Everything," he tells you, and the sincerity in his voice seems to catch you off guard. "Everythin' about you. You're gorgeous, and I'm lucky as hell."
"Wrecker, you're not just saying that, are you?"
"Never," he promises, "not when it comes to you."
You bite your lip, and the way your teeth sink into the plump flesh sends a rush of heat through him.
"You're too good to me," you mumble, a fondness in your eyes that makes his heart swell.
"Could never be too good to you," he replies quickly, shaking his head. He pushes his sleeves up to his elbows and leans back down, kissing the curve of your stomach.
"Wrecker," you sigh, your hands settling on his shoulders, "you're such a gentleman."
"A gentleman?" He laughs, his forehead resting against your hip.
"Mhm," you hum.
He glances up at you, his brows raised. "Sweetheart, I've had my face between your legs for the past fifteen minutes, and you're tellin' me I'm a gentleman?"
"Maybe I like a man who knows how to treat me," you suggest.
"Yeah?"
"Mhm."
Wrecker chuckles, and then he kisses the top of your mound, and then the crease of your thigh, and then your knee. You make a soft noise, and his eyes flick back to your face.
"So, do you still want me to keep treatin' you?" he asks, and if the words come out a little nervous, he can't help it.
"Of course," you say, a hint of surprise in your voice, as if you can't believe he would think otherwise. You smile sweetly, and the weight in his chest lifts. "I want everything with you, Wrecker. Always."
"Good," he sighs, the tension leaving his body. "Because I want everythin', too."
Your head falls back against the pillows, your hands slipping from his shoulders to his head. You pull him closer, and he's more than happy to follow your lead.
"Then, come on, darling," you murmur, lifting your hips and spreading your legs wider, "give me everything."
Wrecker swallows thickly.
"Yes, ma'am."
His mouth is on you again, and you don't hesitate to let him know how good he's doing. You're not shy, and you're not quiet, and you're not afraid to take what you want.
And, gods, does Wrecker like that.
He's still a little in awe, a little dumbstruck by the fact that this is happening, and that it's not just some fantasy he's making up in his head. This is real, and you're here, and you're enjoying yourself, and the sound of your voice, the way you move, the softness of your body is so fucking overwhelming, it's making him delirious.
He wants to do this every night, for the rest of his life.
Your scent fills his nose, and your taste coats his tongue, and the slick, wet noises his mouth makes as he eats you out are driving him crazy. You're shaking beneath him, and your legs are draped over his shoulders, and your nails are scraping against his scalp. Your heels dig into his back, and his hands move down, holding you steady. He's not stopping until you tell him to, and from the way you're moaning, he doesn't think that's going to be anytime soon.
"You're so fucking hot," he groans, his teeth scraping against your folds. "Gonna make you come again. Gonna get you nice and ready for me."
You whimper, and he knows he's made the right choice.
"Sound good?" he asks, voice muffled by your cunt.
"Mhm," you nod.
"Yeah?"
"Yes," you moan, "yes, please, please, I want you to fuck me."
"Oh, I'm gonna," he growls, his lips brushing against your clit, "but first, I'm gonna make you scream."
He's not sure where he found the confidence, but he doesn't care. He doesn't even notice. He's too busy trying to get you to come for him again. He's licking, and sucking, and kissing, and nibbling, and it's only when you're begging him to fuck you that he finally pulls away for air.
"Not yet," he says, pressing a kiss to the crease of your thigh.
"Please," you whimper, "please, Wrecker, I need it. Need you."
He chuckles, his stubble scratching against the inside of your thigh. "I know, sweetheart, I know. Not yet, though. Just a little more."
He slips two fingers inside you, curling them, and your whole body jolts.
"Wrecker, please, I'm so fucking wet, just—"
"I know," he grins, pumping his fingers in and out of you. Your pussy is soaked, and the sound of him fingering you is obscene. It makes him want to shove his cock into you, to feel how tight and warm you are. "Gettin' you nice and wet for me."
"Don't—don't tease me," you huff, and Wrecker laughs, kissing your clit.
"I'm not," he insists. "Just tryin' to make sure you're ready."
"Ready?"
"Mhm." He pushes his fingers deeper, and he can feel the way your walls are already fluttering, the way your muscles are twitching. You're close, and he can't wait to see what you look like when you fall apart. "Wanna make sure you can take me."
"I can," you assure him, "please, I can."
"I'm gonna make you come again," he says, his voice soft. "And then, when you're all nice and relaxed, and you're beggin' for my cock, that's when I'm gonna fuck you."
"I'm begging now," you whine.
"I know, baby," he murmurs, his tongue pressing flat against your clit. "Be patient. It'll be worth it, I promise."
"Okay," you say, and the sound comes out strangled, like it's hard for you to talk. The way your voice breaks, and your chest rises and falls has him grinning, and he leans down again, his mouth eager and insistent.
"Fuck," you gasp, "oh, fuck, Wrecker, I'm—I'm gonna—"
"Go ahead," he encourages, his voice husky, "lemme see.”
Your head falls back, your whole body trembling as you come for the second time that night. It's even more beautiful than the first, and the way you pull his fingers deeper has him moaning against you. He doesn't stop until you're pushing him away, and even then, he doesn't go far.
Wrecker pulls back, slowly, his eyes on yours. You're breathing heavily, and your cheeks are flushed. Somewhere along the way the headpiece you were wearing had come loose, and it's resting on the pillow next to you. Your eyes are hooded, a dazed look on your face, and you look absolutely gorgeous.
"That was so fucking hot," he tells you, leaning down to press a kiss to your inner thigh.
"Wrecker, that was..." you trail off, letting out a quiet sigh. "I've never come twice that fast before."
"Really?"
You shake your head, laughing breathlessly. "Nope."
"So, I guess I did a good job?"
"Good?" you repeat, looking almost offended. "Darling, it was incredible."
He grins wide and presses a kiss to your stomach. You cup his cheek, and your thumb brushes his lip. It's damp with your arousal, and the realization sends a wave of heat through him.
"I'm just glad I made you feel good," he says.
"Trust me, you did," you assure him, and the earnestness in your voice has his cheeks flushing.
"Glad to hear it," he murmurs. He nips at the underside of your breast, and you whimper.
"Wrecker," you mumble.
"Mhm?"
"Come here."
"Why?"
"Because," you answer, sitting up and grabbing his tie, "I want to kiss you."
He lets out a laugh. "Is that all?"
"No," you say, and the honesty in your tone makes him shiver. You tug on the tie, pulling him towards you until your lips meet in a messy kiss. He's careful not to put his weight on you, keeping most of it on his forearms as he presses closer. Your tongue is hot and insistent against his, and when your teeth scrape his bottom lip, a groan escapes his throat.
"Please," you mumble against his lips. "Please, Wrecker, fuck me."
“Was hoping you’d say that,” he grunts, a smirk on his face.
He kisses you again, and it's rough and needy and a little clumsy. Your hands are roaming across his back, and when they tug on his shirt, he reaches around, pulling the hem out of his pants and working the buttons open.
He doesn't have the patience to undo them all, so he tears the shirt and tie off and tosses them aside. He breathes a sigh of relief at finally being free from the restrictive fabric, only to suck in a sharp breath as your nails scrape his sides. The sensation sends a shiver through him, and he buries his head in the crook of your neck, panting.
You don't let up, your hands exploring the planes and divots of his bare chest. His skin is on fire, and his muscles are flexing beneath your touch. Your mouth finds his neck as your fingers move to undo his belt, and his whole body jolts.
You hum, pleased, and Wrecker knows he's in trouble.
Your teeth sink into his shoulder, and your tongue swipes over the marks, and when you press a kiss to his pulse point, he has to remind himself not to get carried away. He's not even inside you yet, and he's already on the verge of losing control.
"Wrecker, I'm tired of waiting," you whine, your hand sliding under his pants and squeezing his ass. "I need you."
"Shit," he curses, his cock twitching in his boxers. "I need you, too."
"Then, what are you waiting for?"
"Nothin'," he says, sitting up. "Absolutely nothin'."
He gets to his feet, pulling off his shoes and socks faster than he's ever undressed in his life. He shoves his pants and boxers down, and his cock springs free. You let out a quiet noise, and he feels a surge of pride as your eyes move down his body, and widen.
"Oh, Wrecker," you breathe, and the awe in your voice is so fucking satisfying. "You're..."
"Yeah?"
"It's so big," you murmur.
He feels the tips of his ears burn. He knows he's big. He's bigger than most, and he's always been worried about scaring people off.
"Do you think you can handle it?"
"Yeah," you say quickly, nodding.
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah, I'm sure."
He's not convinced. "It's okay if you can't, y'know."
"I know, Wrecker," you answer, sounding amused. "I can handle it."
"I just don't want to hurt you."
"I know. And it's sweet. But if you don't come here and fuck me right now, I'm going to go crazy."
"Well, we can't have that," he mutters, a smile playing on his lips.
He climbs back onto the bed, and you move to meet him halfway, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as you kneel together. Your chest presses against his, and you're so warm and soft, and he feels like he's going to melt.
He kisses the tip of your lek, and you let out a squeak, and the sound is so cute, he has to kiss the other one, too. He wants to kiss every part of you, and he plans to, someday. Right now, though, he's got something more important to take care of.
His mouth finds yours, and he cups the back of your neck, holding you still. You're pressed together, skin to skin, and he can feel the heat radiating from your body. Your hands are moving over his shoulders, down his chest, across his stomach, and when your fingers wrap around his cock, his hips buck.
"Fuck," he groans.
You give him a slow, languid stroke, and his eyes nearly roll back.
"You're beautiful," you whisper, your hand moving up and down, spreading precum along his length. You press a kiss to his shoulder, and then his collarbone, and his jaw, and his chin, and his mouth.
"I—ah," he grunts, his forehead falling to rest on yours, "You're kiddin', right?"
"Why would I be kidding?"
"You've got a lot more goin' for ya than me," he replies, his cheeks flushing. "A hell of a lot more."
"Nonsense," you say, shaking your head. Your grip tightens, and his breath catches in his throat. "You're the most beautiful man I've ever seen, and the things I want to do to you are..."
"Are what?"
"I'd rather show you," you admit, and there's something in your voice that makes his heart skip a beat.
"Well, go ahead, then," he encourages, giving you a toothy grin. "Show me."
Wrecker lets out a surprised yelp when you grab his shoulders and push him back, his back hitting the mattress. He laughs, and then you're on top of him, and his laughter dies, his breath coming out in short, shallow gasps.
You're straddling his waist, and the sight of your naked body above him is the most incredible thing he's ever seen. His hands move on their own, running across your thighs, your hips, and your ribs.
"This is a good look for you," you say, smirking.
"Oh, yeah?"
"Mhm."
You lean down and kiss him, and he can't help the way his hands wander, one moving up to squeeze your ass, and the other finding your breast. He can't get enough of you, and he doesn't know if he ever will. He squeezes, and rolls, and fondles, and when his thumb brushes your nipple, you break the kiss with a soft moan. You pull away, and he chases after you, his lips pressing against yours.
"Wrecker, stop," you giggle, swatting his hand away.
"I can't help it," he tells you, leaning up and pressing a kiss to your neck. "You're too kriffin' sexy."
"I need you inside me," you say, pushing his shoulders back. "And I'm not going to be able to get there if you keep distracting me."
"Alright," he sighs, falling back against the mattress. "Go ahead, I'll be patient."
"Good boy."
His eyes go wide, and his cock throbs at the words. He knows he likes being praised, and he's not ashamed to admit that, but the way it makes him react is almost embarrassing.
"Oh," you grin, and the mischief in your eyes has his heart racing. "You like that?"
"Yeah," he nods, his cheeks flushing.
"What else do you like?" you ask, leaning forward and grinding against him.
He swallows thickly. "Um."
"Wrecker," you say softly, and his eyes dart up to yours.
"I—" he stammers, his gaze flicking back down to your cunt. "I, uh—you know, I've never really had anyone ask me that before."
"Well, consider this the first time," you tell him, leaning down and pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Tell me."
"Uh."
"Come on," you urge, kissing the other side, "tell me what you like."
"I like makin' you feel good," he blurts out. "I like it rough, I like bein' told what to do. I like knowin' I'm doin' a good job. And I like you, so—so just...tell me how you feel, or somethin', and I'll be happy."
"I can work with that."
You sit up, and the motion brings your pussy closer to his cock. He watches with wide eyes as you raise yourself up and guide his cock between your folds, the tip brushing against your entrance. His hips twitch, and his hands come up to grip your waist, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles into your skin.
"Kriff, you're gorgeous," he breathes, his eyes on the place where his cock is just barely penetrating you. "You're amazing."
"So are you," you reply.
He's not sure he agrees, but he doesn't have time to argue, because you're sinking down onto him, and his brain stops working.
You let out a quiet sigh, and Wrecker tries his best to keep his composure, but the wet, hot, tightness is too much. His hands tighten, his fingers digging into your sides before he realizes what he's doing. He relaxes his grip, his palms sliding across your skin, his eyes still on where your bodies are joined.
"Shit, sweetheart, I'm sorry, I just—"
"Don't apologize," you interrupt, your hips shifting, and his cock pushes a little deeper.
"I can't help it," he huffs, "I don't wanna hurt you."
"You're not hurting me," you promise, one hand settling on his chest. The other takes his hand, and you lift it up to your mouth, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. "I'll tell you if you are, alright? So, don't worry. Just relax."
"Okay," he nods, taking a deep breath. "I can do that."
"Good boy," you praise, and Wrecker feels a wave of heat crash through him.
Your hips shift, and you sink down another inch. He lets out a shaky breath, his fingers curling into a fist. Your mouth is hot and insistent against his knuckles, your tongue swiping over the sensitive skin. You kiss his fingertips, and then his palm, and then the back of his hand. You nip at the fleshy part beneath his thumb, and he hisses, the sensation sending sparks up his arm.
"Fuck," he groans, and his hips buck, and his cock slides a little further inside.
"You're so big," you murmur, your hand sliding up his arm and over his chest. Your nails scrape his skin, and he trembles. "So fucking big, Wrecker."
"Yeah?"
You nod, your mouth open, and your cheeks flushed. Your eyes are a little glassy, and your breathing is shallow, and he can't believe how lucky he is to be here, with you, in this moment.
"I'm gonna—gonna make you feel good," he promises, and you laugh, your walls fluttering around him.
"Oh, darling," you sigh, lifting your hips and sinking back down, taking him a little deeper, "you already are."
His eyes squeeze shut, and his grip on you tightens. He tries to remember to breathe, and not to buck his hips, and not to pull you down and bury himself to the hilt. You're still kissing his hand, and the softness of your lips has him melting, his shoulders falling back against the bed.
"Look at me, ma sareen," you murmur.
Wrecker does.
The sight that greets him nearly sends him over the edge. You're hovering above him, his cock buried inside you, your lekku dangling in the space between your bodies. The lights in the room are dim, but the glow is bright enough to highlight the curve of your breasts, the swell of your hips, and the way your skin seems to shimmer.
You're breathtaking.
"You're amazin'," he says again, because he doesn't have anything better to say.
"You're so sweet," you chuckle, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his forehead. "I love that about you."
"Yeah?"
"Yes."
You kiss him again, and his mouth opens under yours. He groans when you bite his bottom lip, his hands moving to your hips, guiding your movements. You roll your hips, and his cock slips out of you, before sliding back in. You do it again, and again, and again, until the tip of his cock nudges against the end of your channel.
"Oh, shit," you gasp, sitting up, and bracing your hands against his stomach. "Oh, gods, Wrecker, you're—you're so fucking deep."
"Does it feel good?"
"So fucking good," you whimper.
He sits up and wraps his arms around you, holding you close. He can feel the tips of your lekku resting on his chest, and they're even softer than he imagined. He presses a kiss to the base of one, and then the other, and then he's kissing your neck, his stubble scratching against your skin.
"Ah," you sigh, your hips rocking. "Wrecker, fuck, it feels so good."
"Yeah?"
"Mhm."
"Good," he growls, and then he grabs your ass and pulls you down onto his cock.
You let out a surprised cry, and then you're moving faster, grinding down on his length. He thrusts up, his hips meeting yours. Your hands are everywhere, roaming across his back, his shoulders, and his chest. You're not shy about it, and you don't hold back. You squeeze, and stroke, and touch every part of him, and it's making him dizzy.
"Fuck, you feel so good," you moan, and Wrecker grunts, his teeth scraping the base of your lekku. "So fucking good, Wrecker."
"Yeah?"
"Mhm," you hum, and then you're pulling away, and his chest aches at the loss. You push him back against the pillows, and he stares up at you, his lips parted as you ride him, bouncing up and down. Your hands are planted on his chest, and your nails are digging into his skin.
He watches in awe as you take him, his cock disappearing between your legs. No one's ever taken him like this, no one's ever been able to handle him the way you are. You're not afraid, and you're not shy, and you're not afraid to get what you want.
"You're kriffin' perfect," he says, and then he's reaching for you, his hands cupping your face.
Wrecker kisses you, and the sound that leaves your throat is so needy, and desperate, that he can't help but thrust up into you, harder and faster. His tongue slides into your mouth, and you suck on it, drawing a groan from his chest. He's trying to hold on, to last as long as he can, but it's not easy. Not when you're riding him like this, and making him feel like this.
You pull away with a gasp and bury your face in his neck, and the warmth of your breath makes him shiver. He can't see your face, but he can feel the way you're shaking, can hear the quiet noises you're making.
"You like that?" he asks, his voice rough.
"So much," you whine.
"Gonna come for me?"
"Yes, please, yes," you whimper.
"Gonna scream for me?"
"Oh, Wrecker," you moan, your teeth sinking into his shoulder, and the pain goes straight to his cock. "Wrecker, you're making me—I'm so close, please, harder."
He doesn't hesitate to follow your orders.
He lifts his legs, spreading them wider, and you slide a little further down his length. His hips snap up, and your whole body jolts. The first slap of skin against skin has him groaning, and the second has him cursing, and by the time his balls are slapping against your ass, you're begging him not to stop.
He's not sure he could, even if he wanted to. He thrusts again, and again, his pace building. Your cunt is dripping, the wetness seeping from your entrance, and the lewd squelching sound fills the room.
His hand cups the back of your head, holding you close. You nuzzle against his shoulder, your lips pressed to his collarbone, and the sensation is so fucking intimate, so sweet, he's not sure how much longer he's going to be able to hold out.
"Sweetheart," he grunts, and he doesn't have the words to continue, doesn't know how to tell you he's going to come, doesn't want this to end.
"You're so good," you whisper, and he can feel his balls tightening, "so fucking good, Wrecker."
"Can I—I'm gonna come," he warns.
"Oh, fuck, me, too."
"Where—where do you want me?"
"Inside," you whine, and Wrecker has to grit his teeth to keep from coming on the spot. "Wrecker, inside, please, fill me up, I want it, want you."
"Shit," he groans, "fuck, fuck, sweetheart, you're—oh, shit, I'm—"
Your body goes stiff, your walls fluttering around his cock, and his mouth falls open. He's not prepared for the feeling of your pussy gripping his length, or the sound of your breathy moans. He's not prepared for the way your thighs tremble, or the way your back arches, or the way his name spills from your lips.
He's not prepared for the orgasm that crashes over him, the heat and the pleasure that rushes through his veins, and the way his whole body shudders as he comes inside you.
He can't remember the last time he came this hard, the last time he lost control like this. The feeling of your cunt around him is too much, and his head falls back, his eyes squeezing shut. The only thing that keeps him tethered to reality is the sound of your voice in his ear, a string of words in a language he doesn’t understand falling from your lips.
Wrecker holds you, his arms wrapping around you, and his hips buck, his cock twitching. He can't get enough, can't stop coming, can't stop fucking up into you. Your moans are soft, and gentle, and it's not until his own climax has subsided that he realizes you’re slumped against him, your breathing heavy, your face pressed to his neck.
"Shit, sorry, cyar'ika," he mutters as he realizes his grip has tightened. He moves to pull his hands away, but you reach out, taking his wrists and placing his hands back on your waist.
"No," you whimper, "please."
"Sweetheart, I'm hurtin' you."
"Just a little longer," you tell him, leaning down and pressing a kiss to the base of his throat.
He's not sure why, but the request brings tears to his eyes. You want him. You want him to hold you, and touch you, and the realization makes his heart swell.
"Alright," he agrees, and you sigh and nestle closer.
He lays there, his softening cock still buried inside you, his arms around you, and his fingers find their way to your lekku. He strokes them gently, and you shiver, your body trembling.
"Is this okay?" he asks.
"Yes," you answer, your voice barely above a whisper. "It feels nice."
"Good," he says, smiling. "I like touchin' you."
"I can tell," you laugh and press a kiss to his chest.
He continues, his fingertips tracing a path down the side of one, and then the other. He doesn't know how much time passes. He's lost in the feeling of you, in the warmth of your body, in the softness of your skin. He doesn't even realize his eyes are closed until he hears you laughing.
"What?" Wrecker asks, opening his eyes and looking down at you.
"Are you asleep?"
"No," he answers, shaking his head, though the blush on his face gives him away. "I was just restin' my eyes."
"You sure?" you ask, and there's a teasing tone in your voice.
"I'm sure," he says, and then you're pulling away. His arms drop, and his cock slips out of your cunt, and his mouth falls open. Your combined release is leaking out of you, dripping down his cock and onto his stomach.
"Wow," he breathes.
"Is it a bad 'wow' or a good 'wow'?" you ask, your teeth sinking into your lower lip.
"The good kind," he answers, his eyes roaming over your body before returning to your face. His brows furrow. "Can I kiss you?"
"Wrecker, you don't have to ask," you tell him.
"Well, um," he starts, his cheeks turning pink. "It's just, I'm not really good at this part."
"What part?"
"The after part," he tells you. "I mean, it's always been, you know, in the dark, or quick, and I don't know how you feel about kissing and cuddlin' after, and I just...I dunno, I just like you, and I want to do it right."
"Oh, Wrecker," you laugh, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "I like kissing and cuddling."
"You do?"
"I do," you nod, a smile on your face. "There's nothing more I'd rather do than kiss you, and cuddle with you, and hold you, and fall asleep with you. That is, if you'll have me."
"Oh.” He blinks. "Yeah, um, I'd like that a lot."
"Then, by all means, darling," you tell him, "kiss me."
"Yeah?"
"Mhm," you nod, grinning. "Please."
Wrecker leans forward, his hand cupping your cheek, and he presses his lips to yours. He licks into your mouth, his tongue sliding against yours, and the soft moan that leaves your lips makes his heart soar.
"You're incredible," he breathes, and the smile on your face is the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.
"You are too," you murmur, pressing a kiss to his jaw. "I hope that was everything you were hoping for."
"It was even better," he says, his hand moving down and resting on your hip. "Can we do it again?"
"Right now?" you ask, and he can't help but laugh.
"I was thinkin' tomorrow, maybe," he tells you, his thumb stroking your skin. "I'm gonna be honest, sweetheart, I don't think I'm gonna be able to go again for a while."
"Me either," you reply, laughing.
"But," he starts, his grip on your waist tightening, "when I am, you want to?”
"Of course," you tell him, leaning in and pressing a kiss to his neck. "I have some other ideas I'd like to run by you, if you're interested."
"I'm very interested." He grins. "Lets get cleaned up, and then you can tell me all about ‘em.”
"Mm," you whine, burying your face in the crook of his neck. “But I don’t want to move.”
“Not a problem,” he replies, and before you can say anything, he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you against him. You squeal, your legs wrapping around his waist, and he slides off the bed, holding you against him.
"Wrecker, put me down," you giggle.
"You're the one who didn't want to move," he reminds you.
"Put me down," you say, but your voice is full of laughter, and you’re smiling.
"No," he teases, shaking his head.
"Wrecker," you sigh, rolling your eyes.
"Sweetheart," he replies, mimicking your tone. “I’m a gentleman, remember? And a gentleman always carries his girl to the shower."
"In that case," you murmur, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face against his throat, "thank you, sir."
He walks toward the refresher, his arm wrapped tightly around your waist, and his chest is bursting with pride. You're smiling, and laughing, and holding onto him, and it feels like a dream.
Wrecker sits you on the edge of the counter, and you wince, a soft hiss leaving your lips.
"You okay?"
"Just a little sore," you admit.
"Shit," he curses. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"
"No, no," you shake your head, your hand finding his wrist and squeezing. "It's a good sore, I promise. You were wonderful."
"Oh, yeah?"
"Mhm," you nod, biting your lip. "Best I've ever had."
He laughs. "That can't be true."
"Well, it is," you tell him, and he can see the sincerity in your eyes. "I mean, I've never felt anything like it."
He smiles, leaning down and pressing his forehead against yours. You reach up, your fingertips brushing against his cheek, and he turns, kissing the palm of your hand.
"You're not just sayin' that, are ya?" he asks.
"Why would I?"
"I dunno," he admits.
"Wrecker," you sigh, your thumb brushing across his lower lip, "it's been a long time since I've felt anything for anyone. The truth is, I've had a crush on you for months. You're sweet, and kind, and funny, and the things you did tonight...the way you made me feel, the way you treated me...I've never felt so safe. Or special.”
"It was nothin'," he says, his cheeks flushing.
"It wasn't nothing," you insist, and he knows the look in your eyes means you're not going to let it go. "You made me feel beautiful, and wanted, and cared for, and I'll never be able to thank you enough for that. And it's going to take a lot more than a rough fuck to get rid of me."
"Yeah?" he breathes.
"Yes," you say, pressing a kiss to his chin.
"Okay," he nods. "So, we're gonna try this, huh?"
"Do you want to?"
"Are you kidding me? Of course I do," he laughs, his hands coming to rest on your thighs. "I just didn't want to push."
"Well, consider this your official invitation," you tell him, your hands sliding down and squeezing his biceps. "I'm all yours."
"All mine, huh?"
"Yep."
"Good," he nods, and then he's scooping you back up and carrying you toward the shower. "Because I'm all yours, too."
"Even better," you laugh, and the sound is like music to his ears.
Wrecker kisses you again, his hands gripping your thighs, and your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer. You smile against his lips, and he can't help the grin that spreads across his face. He's not sure how this happened. He's not sure why you picked him. But he doesn't care.
All he cares about is the feeling of your lips against his, and the sound of your laughter filling the room. All he cares about is the taste of your mouth, and the warmth of your skin, and the way his chest swells every time you look at him.
He doesn't know where this is going, or how far it will go, but he knows one thing.
He wants it. All of it. With you.
Translation: ma sareen = Ryl for "my sweet"
Taglist: @baddest-batchers @covert1ntrovert @stellarbit @bruh-myguy-what @qvnthesia
@spicy-clones @kindalonleystars @cw80831 @totallyunidentified @heidnspeak
@lovelytech9902 @frozenreptile @chocolatewastelandtriumph @etod @puppetscenario
@umekohiganbana @resistantecho @dindjarins1ut @tech-aficionado @aynavaano
@burningnerdchild @ihatesaaand @lolwey @hobbititties @mere-bear
@thegreatpipster @lordofthenerds97 @tentakelspektakel @notslaybabes @mali-777
@schrodingersraven @megmegalodondon @dangraccoon @dreamie411 @sukithebean
@bimboshaggy @anything-forourmoony @9902sgirl @jedi-dreea @salaminus
269 notes
·
View notes
Chapter 18: Hole in None
Summary: During your bridal shower, Steve takes Javi golfing. When they return, the way Javi is acting has you questioning everything you knew about your relationship.
Word Count: 12.1K (getting back to my roots of a short chapter LMAO)
Warnings: SMUT(18+) unprotected p in v sex (wrap it up irl pls), oral (f receiving), creampie, praise kink, breeding kink (if you squint?), makeup sex and getting caught (The Murphy's will never catch a break) ANGST (I'm so sorry!!), Hurt/comfort, Javi being super insecure, you being confused as hell, Steve being an absolute idiot
A/N: HELLO. IT'S ME! I DO EXSIST! I am genuinely SO sorry that this chapter has taken a million years to happen. December has been so busy and I have had no time to write, so I really, really appreciate all of your patience 🥺 This is a lil different than any other chapter we've had so far in the NTL universe, it's a lil angsty-er than normal but ya girl only believes in happy endings so don't fret!!! Also poorly beta'd bc I have the stomach flu and I am 100% there are mistakes in this chapter that I'm sure I missed 🫠
Series Masterlist Next Chapter Previous Chapter
“Do I really have to do this? This thing hasn’t even started yet and I’m already exhausted.”
“Yes, Hermosa, I do think that most people do expect the bride to be at her own bridal shower.” Javi laughed, staring into the bathroom mirror as he ran his hands through the dark curls of his hair, fixing them into place as you stood next to him, finishing the rest of your longer than usual makeup routine to prepare for being the center of attention against your will for the next several hours.
It wasn’t that you weren’t grateful that your co-workers wanted to throw you a bridal shower before your wedding, now only a few weeks away- the sentiment of the whole thing was incredibly thoughtful. Your 3rd grade teammates had even found a way to get in touch with your family to make sure that your mom, aunts and cousins felt included in the event, too. You should have been thrilled about the fact that the people who loved you most in the world were coming together to celebrate your upcoming wedding and quite literally showering you with gifts, but if there was one thing you hated more than anything else, it was the social exhaustion that came from having a party planned for no one but you.
You had really tried to convince Maria, Estelle, Linda, and now, your mom that you didn’t need a bridal shower- your wedding was going to be small, and since you had already been living on your own, there weren’t a lot of things you needed as you started married life together. Unfortunately, neither of those arguments were going to stop those ladies from going all out for you, leaving you feeling like your bridal shower was turning out to be even bigger than your actual wedding.
“Don’t you think I could just get a cardboard cutout of myself and use that instead? All these ladies love to talk so much that I don’t think they would even know the difference.” You sighed, giving yourself a once over in the mirror before putting away the rest of your makeup as Javi snuck behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, planting a soft kiss into your shoulder as he pressed his chest against your back.
“I have a feeling that someone would notice.” Javi chuckled, a soft grin spreading across his face as your eyes met in the mirror, his smile and sweet eyes enough to calm your nerves for at least a moment. “I would definitely notice.”
“Well that’s easy for you to say, you don’t even have to be there.” You huffed, letting a little pout fall from your lips as Javi playfully shook you in his grasp, trying your best not to smile as you tried to keep up your unenthused facade. “It’s not too late to trade. You can go to the bridal shower and I can go golfing with you and Steve.”
Even though Javi had insisted he was more than happy to stay at the shower with you, Maria had insisted that Javi find another way to spend his time so the spotlight of the day could be on you, and not him being distractingly handsome to everyone else there. Lucky for Javi, that meant extra time to spend with Steve while Connie was at your shower- not so lucky for you that Maria had banished your future husband from attending an event for your own wedding.
“I honestly may have to take you up on that. Steve must have needed an ego boost when I let him pick what he wanted to do while you and Connie were at the shower because he knows I can’t golf for shit.” Javi’s overdramatic sigh and roll of his eyes was enough to make you break into a little giggle, turning your head enough to press a quick kiss onto his cheek before reaching your hand under his chin, giving his jaw a little jiggle. “It’ll go by fast, Osita, I promise. And then, when we get home,” he paused, pressing another kiss into your shoulder and up towards your neck, digging his fingers a little tighter into your sides as he rasped into your ear, “I’ll take as much time as you want to destress you.”
“As much time as I want? Bold of you to assume that the dog is gonna give us that long.” You snickered as a happy Bear trotted into your bathroom right on cue, his tail loudly thumping against the bathroom cabinets from his happy wags as he wedged himself between you and Javi.
The newest furry member of your household had been a well loved addition, but if there was one thing Bear had no concept of, it was privacy. Your dog had become a constant shadow to you and Javi anywhere and everywhere in your house, including your in your bedroom, even when you were, well, not sleeping. It hadn’t helped that Javi had already formed such a soft spot for Bear, and had let him on your bed from the moment he stepped foot into the apartment, and now, your dog and his clingy personality had become a new obstacle to try and navigate in your sex life.
“Someone needs to tell his dad that he’ll survive if he gets left out of the bedroom for a half hour, huh? That he’s adorable, but that he can be a little cockblock, can’t he?” Squatting down next to Bear, you wrapped your hands around his face, scratching behind his ears as you mockingly serenaded him, raising an eyebrow at Javi.
“He just sounds so sad when he whines and he’s trapped outside the door.” Javi grumbled, kneeling down to join you, patting Bear’s stomach, now much thicker and fuller than it was a few weeks ago after you had first brought him home, skinny and neglected from his lack of care from his previous owners.
“You say trapped like we're kicking him out to the streets when we close the door on him. He’s adorable and sweet, but he’s a dog, Jav, he’ll be okay.” You smirked, playfully scolding Javi as you peppered Bear’s head with kisses, making his tail thump even harder as it wagged back and forth. “Tell your dad you’ll be just fine, won’t you?”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah…” Javi groaned, knowing damn well you were right, even though he couldn’t bring himself to admit he had become an absolute softie for your new dog. “Alright, Hermosa, we gotta get you to this shower before Maria yells at me for making you late.” Pushing his hands against his knees, Javi let out a little grunt as he pushed himself back up to stand, checking the time on the silver watch wrapped around his wrist.
“Wow, so eager to get rid of me, you must really be excited to go get your ass kicked in golf.” You teased, now following suit and straightening out your dress as you stood, throwing your arms around Javi’s neck, pressing up on your tiptoes to plant a little kiss on his lips. “Sure you don’t want me to golf for you?”
“I’m sure, you dork.”
After Javi had insisted on giving Bear more than his fair share of treats before the two of you left for the day, you were on the road to Maria’s, Javi insisting that he drop you off, instead of letting you take the treacherous 2 minute drive by yourself. As you drove down Maria’s street, you couldn’t help but smile at the memory of walking up to her house for an end of the school year party almost exactly a year ago. A party that had ultimately turned a handsome stranger from the Laredo Sheriff's department into your future husband, now sitting in the driver’s seat on the way to your bridal shower. You couldn’t help but laugh to yourself at the irony, leaning your head over onto Javi’s broad shoulder as you pulled up to Maria’s house.
“What’s up, Osita?” Javi asked, a twinge of confusion in his voice at the content and calm of your demeanor as the two of you arrived at the event that you had been seemingly dreading for days.
“I just- It was probably a year ago to the day the last time that we were at Maria’s house. Crazy to think that a year later we’re getting married and here for my bridal shower. I don’t know, a year ago I never would have thought I would have met someone I love so much, let alone be getting married, building a house, owning a dog, I- I’m just really happy that the department made you come to do that stupid presentation. You’ve made this year the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I love you, Jav.”
A tender silence hung in the air as Javi leaned over the center console, gently bringing his palm to cup the side of your face, his thumb tracing circles along your cheek, letting his sweet brown eyes lock with yours as a soft smile spread across his face. “I love you too, Osita.” His words barely left his mouth above a whisper, bringing his lips to yours. The two of you could have stayed like this forever, lost in the moment of your love for each other, but unfortunately, the world had other plans.
“JAVIER. DIOS MIO. CAN YOU KEEP YOUR HANDS OFF OF HER FOR 3 SECONDS?” Maria shouted, banging at the driver’s side window, the aggressive thumps of her hand against the glass making the two of you practically jump out of your skin.
“Jesus Fucking Christ….” Javi whispered, clutching his hand over his chest, trying to steady his heart rate back to normal, the two of you looking at each other in pure terror.
“If you’re going to drop her off and make a scene in my driveway, the least you can do is help an old woman out before you leave, Javier!” Maria demanded, still rapping her knuckles against the glass, the two of you trying to keep from dying of embarrassment as you exited out of the car.
“Sorry Maria…” The two of you grimaced, still trying to avoid direct eye contact with her before she decided to scold you more.
“Chucho is right, you two are no worse than a pair of teenagers. Come on, we only have an hour before everyone arrives and I need you and that wildly blonde haired boy to help me move chairs.” Shaking her head in disappointment, Maria was already halfway up the driveway and into the house as you and Javi trailed behind her, glancing at each other in confusion as to who she was referring to, until you noticed the Murphy’s car parked on the side of the street, realizing that Steve and Connie must have beaten you there.
Before you even had a chance to make it a foot into the house, you were greeted by an overbearing swarm of people rushing to say hello and give you a hug, already feeling overwhelmed 30 seconds into the start of your shower, and these were all people you knew. Your mom was the first to make her way through the crowd, squeezing you in a death grip hug, even though you had just seen her last night after picking her up from the airport and dropping her off at her hotel.
“Oh my god, I can’t believe the day is almost here! My baby girl is finally getting married! Ugh, you look beautiful sweetheart!” Your mom beamed, planting a chaste kiss on your cheek before making her way over to Javi, squeezing him just as hard. “C’mere, don’t think that you get to escape hugs from me too, Javi.” Javi looked over at you, trying his best not to laugh at everyone’s dramatics, knowing how stressed you already were, and that no one’s overly excited attitude was doing you any favors.
“Ouch on the finally there, Mom. What do you need help with?” You asked, noticing that your mom had been holding on to Javi for a touch longer than what was probably appropriate while everyone else continued to hustle and bustle around Maria’s house.
“Does he always smell that good? God, I wished your father smelled like that, the man smells like a sweaty sock. Javi, what kind of cologne do you-”
“Mom! Jesus Christ.” You interjected, burying your hands in your face.
“Sorry, sorry! Honey, you don’t need to help with anything, it’s your shower!” Your mom swatted her hand at you, shaking her head in disbelief that you would ask to help, even though she knew better than anyone it was not in your nature to sit back on the sidelines and let other people do the work for you.
“Why don’t you come help me set up decorations?” A soft voice replied behind you, making you whip your head around as their hand rested on your shoulder.
“Connie!” You grinned, throwing her arms around her, relieved to find someone who wasn’t going to drive you absolutely crazy for the next hour of party prep. “It’s so good to see you, thank you so much for coming!”
“Hey, Sweetheart!” a lower voice grunted from behind a stack of folding chairs making its way to the backyard.
“Wow, Maria put you to work too, Steve? Yikes, she’s running a tight ship around here.” You and Connie snickered as Steve set down his stack of chairs, revealing his already sweaty and frustrated face, considering Maria had probably made him carry 6 trips worth of seats up and down the stairs since he and Connie had arrived.
“You’re tellin’ me. Hey, make yourself useful and pick up some of these chairs, lazy ass. Sooner we get this set up, the sooner I kick your butt at golf.” Steve smirked, gesturing over at Javi, still standing in the doorway with his hands on his hips.
“In that case, I’m taking one chair at a time.” Javi sighed, pressing a quick kiss to your temple in stride towards Steve, giving him a swift hug and a pat on the back before being interrupted by a shrill and demanding voice.
“JAVIER. I HEARD THAT. IF I DON’T SEE YOU WITH A STACK OF CHAIRS IN YOUR HANDS THE NEXT TIME YOU’RE OUTSIDE, IT’D BETTER BE BECAUSE YOU ARE DEAD.” Maria shouted from across the house, making everyone’s faces freeze in fear.
“You heard the woman. Chop, chop, Peña.” Steve chuckled to himself before passing off half of the chairs over to Javi, and walking towards the back of the house as Javi picked up his share, begrudgingly trailing behind Steve.
“Alright, we should probably get to work on decorations before Maria finds us standing around for too long. I know you’re the bride, but I have a feeling that holds very little value to her until everything is set up.” Connie shrugged, nodding towards the backyard where the shower was being held.
“You’re definitely right, and I would prefer to live through my bridal shower in order to make it to my actual wedding.”
With all of the helping hands around the house, and Maria’s commanding dictatorship over shower setup, all of you had finished with time to spare, leaving your mom and co-workers to happily chat and gossip amongst themselves as you and Connie found your way to say goodbye to Steve and Javi, one of whom was looking much more excited about departing for golf than the other.
“Have fun, ladies. Any last words for your future husband before I absolutely obliterate him on the golf course?” Steve snickered, giving Javi a soft punch on the shoulder.
“Shut the fuck up, Murph.” Javi groaned, rolling his eyes as he braced himself for the next 3 hours of harassment from his former partner.
“Don’t be too hard on him, okay Steve? He gets grumpy when he loses, so just a reasonable amount of ass whooping, nothing too drastic.” You teased, now playfully punching on the other side of his arm, you, Steve, and Connie laughing to yourselves at Javi’s fed up frown.
��Says the one who literally pouted for hours after insisting we play "Sorry" and then she lost.” Javi smugly murmured, raising an eyebrow at you, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Well someone wasn’t very sorry about it, were they… You know what, Steve? I changed my mind, go ahead and kick his ass for me.” A mischievous grin grew across your face, bursting out into giggles as Javi flung his arms around you, giving you a squeeze and shaking you in his grasp.
“Pendejo. Alright, you need anything else before I go get my ass kicked, Hermosa?” Javi asked, pressing a kiss into your hair. You were about to speak, but stopped yourself for a moment, looking Javi up and down, admiring how handsome he looked in the khakis and navy blue polo he had picked out this morning. You’d been so worried and worked up about the day that you hadn’t really had a chance to get a good look at him until now, and God, part of you wished you hadn’t taken the time to really take it all in as he stood next to you. You knew there was nothing you could really do about it now, but that wasn’t about to stop you from at least getting a little taste.
“Uh yeah, I uh- actually um, I uh, I scraped my finger earlier on one of the banners I was setting up and I think I got a papercut. I forgot to ask Maria about it earlier, but um, can you show me where the bandaids are upstairs again?” You tried your best to sound as casual as possible, but Javi knew just as well as you that there was no way in hell that you actually needed a bandaid. His brow scrunched in a slight confusion, head cocked to the side as if to say “I think I know where this is going and I’m not really sure it’s going to work” before giving you a little shrug, gesturing up towards the bathroom at the top of the stairwell, trying to keep his smug grin hidden between his lips.
“Yeah, I uh- here, let me show you where they are and I can get you one before we go.” Before Steve or Connie could even muster a word in protest, Javi was already dragging you halfway up the stairs, barely letting you make it to the top of the stairway before closing the bathroom door behind you.
“Band Aid, really? That was the best you could come up with?” Javi laughed under his breath, letting his hands roam down your sides and under the hem of your dress as his fingers dug into the meat of your ass, the heat of his breath tickling your skin where his lips met your neck, gently sucking at your pulse point, making a tiny moan escape from your mouth.
“I needed to come up with something to get you alone for long enough to give you a proper goodbye before you left.”
“And a Band Aid was the way to do that?”
“Oh shut up.” You giggled, draping your arms over Javi’s neck, letting your hands roam through the curls at the nape of his neck before pulling him in tighter to let his lips crash into yours with an electric intensity, his fingertips gripping deeper into your flesh.
“I don’t think-” Javi muttered between kisses, “I don’t think a bandaid is gonna buy us enough time to do anything, Hermosa.”
“I know. I just needed this. Just needed to kiss your stupidly handsome face. I needed something before you left me to fend for myself. Plus,” you paused, pulling back to see the lovestruck grin spread between Javi’s cheeks, “only fair that I get a chance to recreate our first kiss.” You snickered, gesturing to the interior of Maria’s bathroom, where you had found yourself with Javi almost a year ago to the day, your lips meeting for the first time as you sat on the ledge of the sink after Javi had came to your aid when a shattered beer bottle had landed in your leg.
“Fuck, I forgot our first kiss was in Maria’s bathroom. Real fucking smooth of me, huh?” Javi grumbled, rolling his eyes at his past self for letting your first kiss be in the bathroom of his Mom’s best friend’s house.
“Smooth enough for me to wanna marry you, so I guess it all worked out okay, didn’t it?” You teased, planting one last kiss on his lips before shooting him a wink and slipping out the bathroom, your face warm and tingly from the rush of excitement tucked away with Javi in your impromptu makeout session. Javi ran his hand over his face, taking a moment to try and compose himself, shaking his head to himself in shock and delight at how he found himself falling more and more in love with you every day.
“Okay, uh- sorry, sorry about that. Just didn’t wanna have to bother Maria for anything.” You sighed, darting your eyes away from Steve and Connie, their arms crossed against their chest with almost comically smug smirks on their faces as they watched you shuffle back down the stairs, Javi reluctantly trailing behind you.
“Yeah? How’d that bandaid work out for ya?” Steve smiled with a shit eating grin, nodding to your hands, neither of them with a bandaid anywhere in sight. You let out a gulp, trying to quickly tuck your hands behind your back, your cheeks flushing pink with embarrassment. “Goddamn, you two gonna make it 3 hours without touching each other, or am I gonna have to bring him back here after hole 4 for a mid-round makeout?”
“Jesus Christ, Murph, really?.” Javi grumbled, rolling his eyes. “Bye, love you. Have fun and I’ll see you soon.” Leaned over, snaking his arm around your waist to plant one last kiss in your hair.
“Not soon enough, apparently…”
“Murphy…”
“Stop makin’ out and I’ll stop givin’ you shit.”
“Touche…” You muttered under your breath, just loud enough to make the 4 of you burst into laughter, easing the uncomfortable tension that you had brought upon yourself from your antics. “Love you too, have fun getting your ass kicked.”
“Yes, yes, out, out, out! It’s only 10 minutes until guests arrive and your truck is taking up all the room in the driveway! Out!” Stampeding into the living room, Maria waved her hands at the boys, quite literally shooing them out of the house after overhearing your goodbyes. Giving a quick wave to Javi as Maria kicked him and Steve to the curb, you caught Javi’s head whipping around for one last glance at you before you left, giving you a once over with his eyes and a soft smile on his face as the front door shut behind him.
Truth be told, your shower ended up being way less painful than you expected it would be. In all honesty, it was actually somewhat enjoyable. The fact that your mom, co-workers, and Connie had put into helping everyone come together to celebrate you filled your heart with so much more joy than you could have predicted- your friends and family had bought you and Javi so many more gifts than you knew what to do with, had so many kind things to say about the two of you, and Connie had even gone out of her way to make sure that there were fun games planned for everyone to keep the need for constant socialization at bay. It really had ended up being a fun afternoon, even if it meant having to answer the same questions about your wedding, house and honeymoon plans more times than you could count.
Javi, on the other hand, could not have been having a worse time on the golf course, getting his ass thoroughly handed to him by Steve hole after hole, wondering to himself how anyone could bring themself to genuinely enjoy the torture that had been the past two and a half hours of hacking his club into chunks of grass and loosing his golf balls in the brush. The only consoling factor was that Javi was grateful to spend time with Steve, even if it meant being berated by endless questions from him on top of his painful performance while he played.
“You feelin’ ready for the big day?” Steve grunted, after smacking his driver against his ball from the tee box, Javi relieved that the pair were finally on the 9th and final hole.
“Yeah, I mean- Oh fuck me-” Javi grumbled, hitting his club and watching his ball fly into a patch of trees, the opposite direction of where he was trying to aim for, “I still can’t believe I’m getting married.”
“You and me both, Jav. I never thought I’d live to see the fuckin’ day, that’s for damn sure. Javier Peña, a married man.” Steve chuckled, slipping his club into his golf bag as Javi followed behind, grabbing what must have been the 57th golf ball from his bag this round.
“Shut the fuck up, Murph.” Javi chuckled, shaking his head at his friends’ jab, the two of them hopping into the golf cart together to try and scavenge for Javi’s long lost ball.
“I’m just given’ you shit, Jav. I’m fuckin’ happy for you man. Really happy. She’s a great girl. Best thing that’s ever happened to your sorry ass, I’ll tell you that much. Guess you don’t have to worry about really followin’ through this time?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re actually gonna get married this time? You’re not leavin’ her at the altar like Lorraine, huh?” As Steve laughed to himself, Javi could practically feel his stomach drop, his heart beginning to race as a wave of terrible guilt and panic washed over him at his friend’s ironic question.
To his own shock and surprise, Javi hadn’t thought about his last lack of a wedding once since the two of you had gotten engaged. He had been so head over heels excited to spend the rest of his life with you, that the failures of his past engagement had been tucked far away in the back of his mind. But then again, no one had been so gracious as to bring up the knife to the chest that was leaving Lorraine at the altar, and no one had been so gracious as to bring it up in classic Steve Murphy fashion.
Javi could audibly hear himself gulp, his heartbeat pounding so loud he could hear it ringing in his ears as the terrible reality of the past he had so glady forgotten about met him in a head on collision, instantly re-opening all of the cuts and wounds he had finally managed to sew together.
The last time he almost got married, Javier Peña had astronomically fucked up the lives of every last person who cared about him, leaving nothing but chaos and heartbreak in his wake.
Rationally, Javi could tell himself that his upcoming wedding was the polar opposite of everything that was once planned between him and Lorraine. Javi couldn’t have cared less about Lorraine. From the moment he had wearily accepted his fate, he had dreaded every moment of his future from that point on. But you were not Lorraine.
Javi loved you.
Javi cared about you.
Javi wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of his life with you and give you everything in the world you could possibly want.
But, one mention of that 8 letter name had Javi’s brain flooding with every single doubt, regret, and painful memory of his past that he had fought so hard to forget. It had his mind reeling with every uncomfortable feeling of remembering the man he had been before you had come into his life and changed him for the better. He knew he was a better man. A stronger man. A man who was worthy of the love and compassion you had shown him from the moment you two had met.
Or was he?
“Earth to Javi? Hello? Anyone home?” Waving his hand in front of Javi’s face, Steve stared at Javi in confusion as to why it seemed like his friend had suddenly become lost in his own world as they pulled up to the patch of trees where his ball had most likely landed.
“Uh yeah, uh- what, sorry, um, what did you say?” Javi asked, visibly trying to shake the thoughts from his head, painfully scrunching his face and running his hand through his hair before looking back over at Steve.
“I asked if you were gonna go get the ball or if you just wanted to add to your +200 score and drop one here instead. Hey, you okay, man?” Steve questioned, pausing for a moment before asking the later half of his statement, seeing the color flushed from Javi’s face.
“Uh, yeah- Yeah, sorry, I just, I’m good. I’ll um, I’ll just drop a ball.” Javi muttered half to himself as he stepped out of the cart, barely paying attention enough to even remember what in the world he was even looking for in his golf bag.
If Javi wasn’t already thankful to be on the last hole before Steve’s comment, he sure as hell was now, mindlessly whacking his golf club with no regard as to how his ball made it to the green. Any thoughts about golf, let alone any previous attempts to even try to play well had now flown out the window, creeping thoughts of self doubt and resentment crawling through Javi’s mind. The rest of the round and the entire car ride back to Maria’s were spent in an internal battle ranging in Javi’s brain, the fight between the man he used to be and the man he’d thought he’d become rearing its ugly head with a painful intensity that absolutely felt like it was consuming him whole.
Steve, who was just as oblivious to his friend’s distraught state as he was to the idiocracy of his sarcastic question, had chalked Javi’s quiet and somber mood up to being an overly sore loser after getting mercilessly crushed at golf. Little did he know that his one silly comment had sent Javi spiraling down a trail of crushing self-doubt.
As the pair pulled into the driveway and made their way to the backyard where a few straggling party goers still lingered, trying to monopolize their time with you to get the details of your upcoming plans for the future. Being the attentive and patient person that you were, you were trying your hardest to seem enthused and engaged with in the conversation with who you thought was Javi’s Aunt’s Cousin (at this point, you had been introduced to so many new people, you were questioning your own name), but it wasn’t long before your future husband’s big, broad body entering the backyard had you more than distracted, your face instantly lighting up at the sight of him. Peeking over his Aunt’s cousin (or cousin’s aunt, you weren’t really sure) shoulder, you bit down on your lip to try and contain your excitement, letting a little wave shake from your hand in his direction.
Javi wished that your sweet smile and beautiful self were enough to snap him out of his funk, to see how you beamed in excitement just at the sight of him and shot him that lovestruck look he’d never get sick of- but for some twisted reason, it only made him feel worse.
You were everything- kind, smart, funny, the most breathtaking woman he’d ever seen. But what was he? Tired? Broken? A shitty guy who had done even shitter things, who had left nothing but destruction in his path for years and years, with no regard for who it hurt, or even worse, left for dead? How was he supposed to give you everything you deserved when he sure as fuck didn’t deserve you?
Before you had even said a word to him, you could already sense something was off about Javi’s demeanor that was due to more than just losing to Steve in golf. Even from across the backyard, his forced smile and tired brown eyes had a worried pit swirling in the bottom of your stomach, politely excusing yourself from your conversation to make your way over to Javi.
“Hi! You guys have fun at golf? Steve didn’t kick your ass too bad?” You grinned, wrapping your arms around Javi’s waist, pressing up on your toes to plant a kiss on his lips, his mouth barely ghosting over yours in return.
“Yeah, it was um- yeah, it was fine.” Javi nodded, trying to make a smile appear between his pursed lips. “How was the shower? You uh, you ready for Steve and I to start putting things in the truck to bring over to the new house?”
You immediately frowned in response, cocking your head in confusion at him. “Yeah, it was great, but hey, are- are you okay? You seem really off, like more than just Steve kicking your ass at golf off. Did something happen?”
“No, I’m- yeah, I’m good, Hermosa.” Javi’s eyes darted towards the ground, trying his best to stifle his sigh before another fake smile spread across his face, his response making you even more concerned than you were before, seeing he was clearly lying to you. As much as you wanted to problem solve right then and there to figure out what had Javi so distressed, the calls of one of the last groups of party goers wanting to say their goodbyes rang across the backyard, you flashing them a quick smile and a wave to signal you’d be over in a second. Before you could try and get anything else out of Javi, he had already backed himself away from your hands still tangled around his waist, nodding towards the group of women who were not so patiently waiting for you. “Go say goodbye, I’ll start loading stuff up.”
“Um, I- uh, yeah, o-okay. Thanks.” You murmured, half to yourself, as Javi had already begun to walk away to find Steve to help him start carrying things out to the car, leaving you more anxious and confused with every passing second.
With goodbyes finished, and decor and party setup cleaned up just as fast as Maria had demanded it to be put up, you and Javi made your way to your now packed car, followed by Connie and Steve, who had asked to see the progress on your new house while they were in town. You figured you’d kill two birds with one stone, inviting them over and having them help to unload gifts in the same trip, but now, given the strangely somber mood that Javi couldn’t seem to shake, you really wished it was just the two of you so you could figure out what the hell was going on.
You and Javi piled into his truck, Steve and Connie hopping into theirs and following you down Maria’s street towards your new house. A stark silence filled the car, praying to yourself that maybe Javi just wanted to be alone before he said anything about his current state, but 5 minutes down the road without a single word falling from his lips, you had a devastating feeling that wasn’t going to be the case.
Your leg bounced against the seat, fingers nervously drumming in your lap, letting out a quiet sigh to yourself before looking over at Javi and mustering up the courage to try and interrogate.
“Sooooo, golf was fun? I love ya, but I think it’s probably safe to assume Steve won?” You quietly snickered, trying your best to stay nonchalant.
“Yeah, it was good, Steve won, but that’s no surprise because I suck at golf.” Javi mumbled to himself, barely glancing your direction from behind the yellow tinted aviators perched on the bridge of his nose. Normally, if either of you had something that self-deprecating to say, it was at least followed by some sort of a joke or laugh, but his comment ended with nothing but a stoic silence as his hands gripped tighter around the steering wheel.
“Hey, babe, it’s okay, you don’t ever golf, so it’s hard to expect yourself to be good at something you rarely ever do.” You reached over to grab his arm to reassure him, that unsettling and anxious pit beginning to grow in your stomach again with the way Javi was acting. All he could muster was a half hearted huff in response, signaling to you that whatever was happening was much bigger than a poor game of golf.
“Javi… Baby, what’s going on? Did something happen with Steve?”
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s clearly not nothing, Jav. Did I do something wrong?”
“No, I told you, it’s fine.”
“Javi, it obviously isn’t fine if this is the way you’re acting about it. Why won’t you talk to me about it? I just wanna-”
“I told you, it’s fine, okay!? Jesus, I don’t need you to solve all my problems.”
Oh.
You and Javi had been in arguments before, hell, you’d been in fights before, but never once in the time that you’d known him, had Javi snapped at you like this. You could practically feel yourself recoiling in your seat from the harsh tone of his voice, fighting back the tears that had instantly begun welling in your eyes. You could feel your heart in your throat, choking down a heavy gulp as your lip quivered to try and keep from crying.
What had gone so wrong that Javi was acting like this?
You wish you had it in you to dig it out of him, but as you pulled up the driveway of your new home, Steve and Connie right behind you, ready for a tour, the best you could muster was a quiet, “O-okay.” As soon as the car was in park, Javi was unbuckling his seatbelt and slamming the door behind him, leaving you behind in the car, trying everything in your power to not become a startled, sobbing mess.
Wiping away the wetness pooling behind your eyelids, you swiped the back of your hand against your cheeks, taking a few deep breaths before following behind, mustering up as much courage as you could to keep your cool for however long Steve and Connie were planning to stick around before heading back to San Antonio.
You had hoped that Steve and Connie hadn't picked up on the palpable tension brewing between you and Javi, trying your best to put on a brave face as you paraded the Murphy’s through your nearly completed house. To be quite honest, you couldn’t have recalled anything that had happened in the time that they were there, your mind racing in torment as you watched Javi brood around your new home, barely saying a word to you, let alone make any eye contact, or look in your general direction.
As the four of you made your way upstairs, your attention was finally caught by the low lull of Steve’s laughter as he situated himself between you and Javi, grabbing you both by the shoulders and shaking you in his grasp.
“Well I’ll be damned. Y’all got enough rooms up here to house half a baseball team! You want that many kids driving ya nuts, huh?” Steve chuckled, making his way down the hallway, peeking into the empty bedrooms of your 2nd story.
“Steve!” Connie scolded, slapping the back of her hand against Steve’s stomach for his comment.
“What?! I’m just sayin’! I thought y’all would want like, 2, but there’s enough room for way more than that. I mean, I guess you two are fuckin’ goin’ at it like rabbits all the time, so I can’t really be shocked.”
“Steven Edward Murphy! Jesus Christ!” Connie snapped, shooting Steve a dangerous glare, aggressively raising an eyebrow at her husband as she gestured towards you and Javi.
“No, it’s okay, we don’t know for sure how many we want, but we figured if we had the space we’d add the rooms and even if they’re not bedrooms, they’ll still get used.” You had it in you enough to force a half smile across your face, flashing it at Steve and Connie before looking over at Javi.
While you hadn’t expected much of a response from him given the current situation, what you weren’t expecting was the panic stricken look painting Javi from head to toe.
If you weren’t already worried out of your mind about what the fuck was going on with Javi, you sure as fuck were now.
“Uh, I um- yeah.”
Those were the only words Javi was able to choke out through the audible thumps pounding in his chest as his face went ghost white, eyes peeled to the ground.
“See, Steve? You’re making them uncomfortable! You have absolutely no filter, I swear! I’m so sorry, you guys!” Connie frantically apologized, giving Steve another hardy slap in the stomach, making him wince.
“I’m just jokin’, Jesus Christ, sorry!” Steve grumbled, holding up his hands in defense from his wife’s accusation, sheepishly looking over at you and Javi with a little shrug.
“No, it’s uh- no, it’s fine, don’t worry about it.” You had given up on trying to be convincing at this point, your voice quietly shaking as you stared at Javi, now looking like a terrified, ragged shell of himself.
What the fuck was going on? Did Javi want to wait to have kids? Did he not want to have that many? Was he having second thoughts about kids all together? Fuck, was he having second thoughts about getting married? He’s literally never acted like this before. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
You were sure at this point, you probably looked just as much of a mess as Javi did, letting your thoughts race wildly throughout your brain, the silence now lingering between the four of you now seemed to feel deafening, Connie beginning to pick up on the uneasiness festering between you and Javi and knowing she had enough common sense for her and Steve to pick up her cue to see herself out.
“Well, still, I’m sorry. We should probably get going anyways, we told the sitter we’d be back around 6 so we should probably hit the road. Thank you so much for the tour! The shower was beautiful and I’m so glad I could be there for it. We’ll see you guys for the big day soon! Just let me know if you need any help with wedding stuff between now and then okay?”
“Uh yeah, yeah of course. Thanks for all your help, Con. I’ll um- I’ll let you know if we need anything.” You stammered as Connie pulled you in for a hug goodbye, followed quickly by Steve, who planted a few pats on your back mid hug.
“Bye sweetheart, thanks for letting me steal this asshole for golf today. See y’all when you’re gettin’ ready to get hitched! Adios, loser.” Steve chuckled as he pulled away from your hug to tug Javi into another, giving him an even harder pat on the back before letting Connie say her goodbyes as well.
“Do you want me to walk you guys down to your-”
“Nah, we’ll find our way out, no worries. Bye lovebirds, see ya soon.” Steve grinned, giving the both of you one last wave farewell before disappearing down the stairs, their hushed bickers about Steve’s unnecessary comments quietly trailing behind them. Before you could even get a word out to Javi now that the two of you were alone, he was already halfway down the stairs behind the Murphy’s, not even bothering to look back at you as he mumbled under his breath.
“I’m gonna get the gifts out of the car and go sit outside.”
“Jav, wait, I-”
You could feel the lump beginning to swell in your throat, your bottom lip trembling with tears welling in your eyes as you watched Javi storm down the stairs without even so much as an attempt to care about what you had to say, leaving you with nothing but yourself and 5 empty bedrooms that now had you questioning everything you thought you knew about your future with Javi. You felt your body begin to collapse like a sad pile of jello as you melted into a sobbing puddle on the floor, bringing your knees to your chest as you cried into the flowy fabric of your dress, leaving wet stains behind from your tears. Your breaths were rapid and shaky with each muffled sob, trying to rationally grasp on to something, anything, as to why Javi was acting this way. But the more the gears frantically turned in your brain, the more irrational and terrifying your thoughts became.
This all happened so fucking fast. It’s only been a year since I’ve known him. Is he realizing it’s too much? Am I too much? This was all too fucking good to be true, wasn’t it, you fucking idiot.
Taking a few more minutes to collect yourself enough to at least stop full on sobbing, you wiped your wet cheeks with the back of your palm, inhaling a trembling deep breath as you mustered up every ounce of courage you could find to face whatever fate was waiting for you downstairs with Javi.
Each step down the stairs felt heavier than the last, leaving your fingers anxiously drumming against your legs as you saw Javi’s broad body hunched over the side of the unfinished back patio, staring out to the tall grass of your backyard swaying in the warm summer breeze. If it were any other time, you would have rushed up behind him, wrapping your body around his back and attacking him with kisses until the two of you were wound up in a fit of laughter and giggles, happily tangled in each other's bodies.
Right now, you were terrified to even step too close to him.
Carefully and quietly sliding open the glass door to the porch, you prayed with every bone in your body you weren’t going to do anything that set Javi off enough to even let you attempt to have a conversation with him about what was going on. The new wood softly creaked under your shoes, making Javi turn his head just enough to acknowledge your presence as you wearily approached him. Taking one more deep breath, you opened your mouth to speak, but with your jaw hanging open, Javi’s words filled the stark silence before yours could.
“I don’t know if we should get married.”
Fuck.
You could practically feel your heart sink to the bottom of your stomach, like the weight of 1,000 bricks had been dropped on your body all at once, hearing that come out of his mouth. You could have mentally tried to brace yourself for a lot of things, but hearing Javi tell you he didn't want to get married anymore sure as hell wasn't one of them.
“Javi, I- baby, what- I don’t- I don’t-”
“Why the fuck do you even wanna marry me?”
Your brows scrunched in pain and confusion at the sharp tone of his words, desperate to try and understand what point he was trying to prove in this gut wrenching game he seemed to be playing.
“Because I- Javi, I- Javi I love you, that’s why.” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper as you sat down next to him on the edge of the porch, leaning over enough to see the tears glistening down his cheeks, his eyes red and puffy as he tried to stifle the sobs rumbling in his chest. He shook his head back and forth before his gaze fell into his lap.
“You shouldn’t love me.”
“Javi… what the fuck are you talking about?” you plead, feeling the pain and hurt creeping through your body as you watched the tears he was so desperately trying to fight. With a scornful scoff, Javi shook his head, pressing against his knees to stand, taking a few paces around the porch, burying his hands in his face, his words muffled and muted by his palms covering his mouth.
“What the fuck am I- I’m not- I’m not what you deserve. I don’t understand how you don’t fucking see that.”
You followed suit, bringing yourself to stand with your arms crossed tightly across your chest, staring at Javi in bewilderment, biting down on your tongue so hard to keep from bursting into tears you thought you were going to make it bleed. You could feel the storm of pain, anger and confusion brewing deep in the pit of your stomach, your body numb and mind blank.
“Javier. What the fuck is going on? I don’t understand why-”
“Because last time I was gonna get married I fucked up everything. For everyone. I hurt everyone I cared about. I went half way around the world and I spent a decade fucking things up even more. How do you know I’m not gonna fuck everything up again? I love you too much to let it happen to you. The thought of ever hurting you even half as I much as I’ve hurt anyone else because of my choices fucking kills me. I can’t do it. I can’t hurt you like I’ve hurt everyone else. I’d never fucking forgive myself. I love you more than anything, Osita. I love you more than anything in the world. You deserve someone who isn’t going to hurt you. Someone who will do right by you, by your family, your future children, I just- fuck- I don’t think that person can be me.”
A deafening silence hung in the air as you stared blankly at Javi, tears streaming from his tormented brown eyes, his body trembling with devastation and regret. You had no doubt your body mirrored his as the guilt and heartbreak flooded you from head to toe, wondering how in the world you had ever let the man you loved and cared about more than anything feel like he wasn’t enough for you.
You wished you could speak- to find the words to tell him that he was your everything, the glue that had put you back together when you were convinced there was nothing else that could mend the broken mess that you had become. You wished you could express to him that there was no one on the face of this earth that you would rather spend the rest of your life with than him- that there was no one else you wanted by your side through every moment of your life, the good, the bad and the ugly, more than him. You wished there was a way to tell him that you loved him more than anything, but in that moment, all you could do was grab him and wrap your arms around his waist, squeezing him as tightly as your body would let you, letting your wet face rest against the familiar warmth of his chest as you whispered into the soft fabric of his shirt.
“Javier Peña, you’re the only person it could be.”
You could feel his chest begin to rumble with heavy sobs as his arms draped around you, pulling you against his body so closely, it was like his life depended on it, like he couldn’t bear the thought of ever letting you go again. One arm stayed wrapped around your back as the other slid up the back of your neck, his broad palm cradling your head in his grasp, his fingers practically digging into your skin to keep you close as the two of you let yourselves do nothing but hold each other in your teary silence.
You let one of your hands reach up towards Javi’s face, cupping his jaw and forcing his gaze back on to you, as your thumb traced back and forth along his cheek, wiping away the wetness that had been welling in his eyes.
“I need you to listen to me, okay?” You asked, waiting until you felt Javi’s head gently nod up and down in understanding in your palm before you continued, “The man you were before doesn’t scare me. If it did, I would have been gone a long time ago. The man you were before has turned you into the man that you’ve become. The man that I want to spend everyday with for the rest of my life. Every good day, every bad day, every painful, hard and shitty day, and every day in between. And I promise that I will spend every last one of those days until the day I die trying my best to convince you that you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And if I die trying, then so be it. I love you, Javi. Don’t you ever think for a second that there is anyone out there that I want to spend the rest of my life with more than you, and I won’t ever let you forget it.”
It was only moments before both of Javi’s hands were cradling your face, gently trembling as they cupped your soft, wet skin as you locked eyes with his, watching his face shift from terrified to bewildered, thinking he must have misheard what you had just said to him.
“Osita, I-”
“Promise me.”
“Promise you what?”
“Promise me that you believe me. Promise me that you know I love you more than anything.”
There was a part of Javi’s brain that wished he could find something to prove that he couldn’t. To prove he wasn’t worthy of keeping the promise you had made to him. To convince himself that he had no reason to believe he was worthy of the love you had given him.
But the truth was, for the first time that he could remember, as he looked down at you, the woman who had taken his life and forever changed it for the better, who had helped to heal him in ways he didn’t know he needed, who had cared for him in ways he never thought he deserved, and who had stood by him even as you learned about the ugliest parts of him he never thought he’d forgive himself for, Javier Peña finally realized he had learned what it was like to be worthy of love.
You had made him realize he was worthy of being loved.
A small gulp slid down his throat between his shaky breaths, taking a moment to soak in everything about you, before letting his lips ghost across yours as a quiet whisper left his mouth.
“I promise.”
And just like that, his lips crashed into yours with a ferocious and tender passion, soaking in every ounce of the sweet flavor of you, a taste he knew he would never tire of, one that he craved like nothing else.
“I love you, Osita. Fuck, I love you so much.” Javi moaned between your kisses, praying with every bone in his body you knew how much he meant it.
“I love you too, Javi.” The hot breath of your words danced across his lips before they were crashing together once again, his tongue swiping between your parted mouths as he ran his hand down your back and around your waist, pulling you so close you were convinced your bodies were going to melt into one as you pressed against his broad chest, now needily grasping at fist fulls of his shirt.
In that moment, it was like the two of you could feel something in the air change. The tension lifting, the frustrated fog fading, the both of you desperately needing the other to know how much you loved them. The Javi you knew and loved had come back, returning home to you. All of the fear and sadness was replaced by a rampant desperation to know how much you needed him, almost as much as he needed to show you how hopelessly he craved you, too.
With your bodies still tangled together, your kisses became messier and sloppier as you backed your way towards the door that lead inside, stumbling and trampling over each other’s feet without any regard for where you were headed until you felt your back bump against the kitchen island, the rounded edges of the countertop stopping you in your tracks as Javi caged you between his broad figure and the island.
Both of your hands were now feverishly roaming across each other’s bodies before Javi had run his hands down your thighs, hoisting you up to sit on the countertop, planting hot, wet kisses across your neck and collarbone while his fingers crept under the hem of your dress, his palms sliding up and down your legs, digging his fingers into your flesh.
“Javi…” You whimpered, letting your eyes close and head fall back as he sucked at your pulse point, leaving you with one hand bracing yourself against the edge of the counter and the other with your fingers wrapped around the navy fabric of Javi’s shirt, clinging on for dear life.
You eyes opened, and gaze shifted downwards as you felt Javi pull away from your grasp, watching him drop to his knees, slotting himself between your parted legs and kissing the inside of your thighs while his hands tugged at the waistband of your already soaked underwear, hastily shuffling them to fall down your legs and pool at your ankles. His needy kisses up your thighs crept closer and closer to your core as your legs draped over his shoulders, kneeling before you like you were the altar of everything he worshiped as his deep brown eyes looked up at yours, like he was begging for forgiveness for his sins.
“I’m so sorry, Osita. I’m so sorry for what I said. I didn’t mean it. Fuck, I love you so much. Let me show me how much I love you. Please, baby. Please let me show you how much I need to be yours.”
Your response was nothing but a ragged moan as you felt his hot breath hovering over your cunt before letting long, flat licks of his tongue drag through your folds, each swipe pressing firmer than the last, lapping up the arousal dripping from your entrance like a sweet nectar. With one hand still white knuckling the edge of the countertop, the other shot down to bury itself in the dark curls of Javi’s thick locks, tugging at ends to find some place to ease your tension as he began to flick and swirl his tongue relentlessly against your clit, lapping you up like a man starved.
“Oh fuck Javi- fuck- you feel so good, baby.” You moaned, raking your fingers along Javi’s scalp as you watched his head bob nestled between your legs, feeling the low hum of satisfaction thrumming in his throat as he began to suck your sensitive bundle of nerves, latching his lips around your clit as his mouth worked feverishly against your cunt. You could already feel the tingle beginning to grow at the base of your spine and spread to your legs as Javi found every sweet spot that he knew made you lose all control, desperate to make you feel how much he needed your love and forgiveness.
“That’s it, sweet girl. Let go for me baby, I’ve got you.” Javi hummed before diving back between your legs, tightening his grip around your thighs as his tongue danced around your clit relentlessly. It wasn’t long before you could feel your orgasm begin to flood your body, pleasure crashing through you as you cried out his name, a death grip clutching around the counter and Javi’s dark locks. Javi worked you through your high, drinking up the juices of your slick as you came, feeling your legs tremble as they stayed slung over his broad shoulders, not stopping until your body was shaking and your whimpers and moans had become so wrecked, he had no choice but to stop to relish in the blissed out, dripping mess he had made you. He would have loved to stay like this forever, watching you become more and more wrecked beneath his tongue, the want, no, need, to be buried inside your heat, getting lost in your wetness and warmth, savoring in the way no one else would ever be able to have you like he did, to know that you were his.
Javi worked in a determined silence, rusting with his belt buckle until the metal clangs of it opening had his pants and boxers in a puddle around his ankles, splaying kisses across your neck as he slid you towards the edge of the counter, his fingers digging into your hips with a bruising intensity. He stroked himself a few times as he lined his cock up with your entrance, guiding his tip through the glistening arousal covering your folds, leaving his dick shiny with your slick as you whimpered into his skin.
“Javi… Please, baby. I need you.” You whimpered, instinctively bucking your hips towards him, desperately craving him to ease the achy emptiness between your legs.
Resting his forehead against yours, the dark, damp curls of his hair brushed your skin, the hot and heavy heat of each of your shaky breaths melting into one another’s as your lips ghosted his, only fully meeting yours to catch the moan that had escaped your mouth as he pushed himself into your heat, letting himself bottom out, his tip brushing against your cervix. You couldn’t help but wrap your legs around the small of his back and drape your arms over his shoulders, desperate to have your bodies needily tangled and intertwined together as you savored in the sweet sting and stretch of his fullness.
He began to rock his hips, letting his cock drag in and out of your cunt, taking his time with each stroke, the movement making you dig your fingernails into the fabric of his shirt stretched over his muscular back, in turn, making the grip he had around your waist even tighter, his fingers buried in the soft flesh of your stomach where his hands had crept under your dress.
The way he punched up into you, perfectly pounding against your g-spot with each thrust, combined with the way the hairs at his base rubbed along your clit, already had the inevitable coil beginning to tighten in your belly. You dug your nails deeper into Javi’s skin, grasping for the damp curls at the nape of his neck, your whimpers growing louder and more desperate with each stroke as you could feel yourself beginning to crumble beneath him.
Each stroke seemed to become deeper and fuller than the last, Javi’s pace now climbing in speed and intensity as he felt your cunt clench tighter and tighter around his cock, knowing that familiar feeling meant you were coming closer to your end. You could barely muster anything but a whimper, your soft pleads and begs going straight to his dick as he slid and out of your wet heat.
“Fuck baby, don’t stop- ahhhh- please don’t stop, I’m so close.”
The lewd sounds of skin hitting skin and low, ragged moans echoed against the bare walls of your unfinished kitchen as Javi fucked deeper and deeper into you, singing sweet, soft praises against your skin between locking your lips with yours.
“Fuck- Dámelo, Hermosa (Give it to me, beautiful). Need to feel you soak my cock before I fuck you full of me. It’s okay mi amor- mierda- té tengo. (my love- shit- I’ve got you.) I’ve always got you. Forever.”
You could feel your legs lock even tighter around Javi’s waist as heat began to bloom in your belly, only needing a few more thrusts as you rolled your hips against his before your mind went blank and vision went white, your orgasm crashing through your body and flooding every inch of you with pleasure so intense, you could feel yourself going limp in his grasp.
“Fuck, Javi, fuck, fuck, fuck, oh my god-ahhhhhhhh-” You whimpered as Javi fucked you through your high, now desperate to chase his own as his thrusts became rushed and sloppy, pounding into you as your walls gripped around his cock like a vice. Your warmth and wetness consumed him, only needing a few more pumps before he could feel himself following suit, hissing through gritted teeth as incoherent babbles spilled from his lips.
“There it is, baby. Fuck- fuck, you’re so fucking perfect. I love you so much, Osita. Con todo mi corazón. (With my whole heart). Oh fuck- I’m yours forever. Oh shit, I’m gonna cum to, oh fuckkkkkk.”
With one last thrust, Javi finished buried deep inside you, hot ropes of his cum coating your walls as a slick mixture of spend leaked down your thighs, leaving him panting while he slumped into your shoulder, his chest heaving with labored breaths, trying to compose himself. Bracing himself with one palm flat against the counter next to your hip, his other hand reached up to your face, brushing away a piece of stray hair back into place before gently cupping your cheek as he spoke.
“Osita, baby, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I love you so much. I didn’t mean what I said earlier, I just- fuck- I’ve never been so sure of anything, but when we were at golf today, Steve brought up Lorraine, and I- I just was so scared I was gonna fuck everything up again, and I-”
“Oh God, he brought up Lorraine?! Jesus. I knew it. I knew this was Steve’s fucking fault.” You sighed, quietly laughing to yourself as you shook your head.
“Wait, how did you-”
“Because it just seemed so strange that you were acting like this all of a sudden. You got back from golfing with him and it was like you were a different person. I mean, I’m not gonna lie, I was freaked out and panicking wondering what happened because you’ve never acted like that before. That, and because I love Steve, but he’s an idiot.” The two of you were both now laughing, Javi rubbing his hand over his face before rolling his eyes, wondering to himself how he had really let his friend’s stupid comment get the best of him.
“I’m so sorry, Osita. I should have just ignored it, I just hadn’t thought about it in so long and I was so terrified to mess everything up again. It would kill me to hurt you like that.” His thumb circled around your cheek as he tilted your gaze to meet his, sincerity and remorse swirling in the dark pools of his chocolate brown eyes.
“Javi, listen, if this is moving too fast, or it’s too much for you, I want you to be able to tell me, I understand if-” Before you could finish your sentence, Javi’s lips were planted tenderly against yours, pulling away from your mouth with a goofy grin and satisfied sigh.
“I promise you, I’ve never wanted anything more. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you. I can’t wait to marry you,” he leaned in, pressing a quick kiss on your cheek, “I can’t wait to live in our new house with you,” he grinned, planting another ticklish kiss on your neck, “I can’t wait until we can finally start filling up these empty rooms with little baby Peñas” Javi chuckled, now peppering kisses all over your body, making you erupt in a fit of laughter and giggles, squirming and flailing in his grasp, playfully swatting at him. “I can’t wait to spend every day for the rest of my life with the most beautiful, amazing woman I’ve ever met.” He smirked, tilting his head to let your mouths meet again, this kiss filled with a tender passion and intensity unmatched by his previous playful ones.
It was the kind of kiss that said all of the things that words couldn’t. The kind of kiss that had butterflies fluttering in your stomach like the first kiss you had shared in Maria’s bathroom almost a year ago. The kind of kiss that made you fall even deeper in love with him, even when you thought you couldn’t.
It was also the kind of kiss where everything else in the world seemed to melt away and make time stand still, a kiss that you could have stayed lost in forever… unless a certain someone hadn’t forgotten his wallet at your house and needed to come back and get it.
You were so oblivious to anything else happening around you, that neither you or Javi had heard your front door open, followed by the rushed, impatient footsteps of Steve and Connie, arguing about where Steve could have left his wallet, and how on earth he could have left without realizing it was missing from its usual home in his back pocket.
“Seriously, Steve, I can’t believe we’re gonna waste a whole hour having to turn around and come back here because you couldn’t remember your wallet!”
“Con, I told you, it’s right on the counter, I know where it is, lemme just go grab it really quick and then we ca- Oh Jesus fucking Christ!” Steve shouted, walking into the kitchen to see you and Javi making out on your island, your dress pushed up well past your legs, and Javi’s bare ass on display from his pants still pooling around his ankles.
“Ahhhhh!” You and Javi shrieked, practically jumping out of your skin to see Steve’s tall and lanky frame frozen in your kitchen, now scrambling to try and fix your clothes and hair to try and save yourselves at least some dignity.
“What the hell are you two doin’?!” Steve grimaced, trying not to cackle to himself as Connie rushed up behind him to see what was happening, only to very quickly cover her eyes and turn away from you and Javi.
“Us?! What the hell are you doing here? Jesus, you ever heard of fucking knocking, Murph?!” Javi groaned, shuffling his pants back up and fixing his hair before helping you off the counter, trying your best to hide your beet red, embarrassed face.
“I forgot my wallet! Forgive me for thinkin��� you two would keep your hands off each other for long enough to let me come pick it up in peace.” Steve frowned, raising up his hands in defense.
“I’m sorry! I told him to call you to let you know he was coming to pick it up, but he seemed to think it wasn’t a big deal.” Connie scolded, giving Steve a forceful nudge of her elbow before finally turning back around to face you and Javi, knowing you were at least halfway decent. “God, I love you, but you are an idiot.”
“You can say that again…” You snickered under your breath, just loud enough to make Javi and Connie join in your laughter, leaving Steve with his arms crossed over his chest, rolling his eyes in annoyance.
“Hey, listen. Call me what you want, but I don’t think you’ll be callin’ me an idiot when you need me to come babysit your 47 kids so the two of you can get some…” He paused gesturing to you and Javi’s disheveled state, “... time to yourselves. Like I said earlier, y’all gotta lot of rooms to fill, and I don’t think you’re gonna have any problem doin’ it.”
And for as much as you wanted to give Steve the ten pounds of shit he deserved, as you looked up at Javi standing next to you, you couldn’t really even bring yourself to be mad. Because in the end, the only thing that mattered was him- the man you were going to spend the rest of your life with. The one who was your future, the one who stood with you through every twist and turn, the one who was your home. What started as a day that had you questioning everything had turned into one that had never made you feel more assured. You knew that Javier Peña loved you more than life itself, and you knew that you were so lucky to spend the rest of your life getting to prove to him over and over that you loved him just as much.
Taglist:
@cool-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @messinadress @milly-louise @jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled @pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog @hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr
418 notes
·
View notes