#steve murphy mentioned

[elizaleclerc]

epiphany 📠 ⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

"just one single glimpse of relief / to make some sense of what you've seen"

summary: fem!reader and javier deal with the aftermath of a traumatic mission

song: epiphany by taylor swift

word count: 2.6k

author's note: first javi fic yippie. hella angst / nightmare trope / mentions of death / hurt/comfort / 18+ but no smut just fluff / established relationship / DEA agent reader / translated spanish

The car ride back to your apartment was suffocatingly quiet, the weight of grief hanging heavily in the air. The familiar streets flew by as Javier drove, but you couldn't focus on anything other than the images burned into your mind. As a DEA agent for over a year, you had seen your fair share of horrors, but never before had you witnessed something so gruesome right in front of you. It was easier to read about these things in paperwork, detached and removed from the reality of it all. But now, the memory of it all was haunting and raw, replaying in vivid detail with every passing second.

Your head felt numb, as if a thick fog had settled over your thoughts. Your whole body felt heavy and weighed down, as if invisible chains were holding you back. The sensation in your stomach was nauseating, like being on a rollercoaster that never seemed to end. Even though you wanted to vomit, you knew it would be futile - your body was too weak to even try. Even Javier, known for his stoic demeanor and ability to handle tough missions, was uncharacteristically quiet. The only sound filling the car was the low muttering of the engine. Not even the radio provided any source of distraction or comfort in this tense moment.

Javier expertly parked the car in the driveway of your shared apartment, the smooth engine purring to a stop. The dim yellow glow of the streetlights illuminated his face as he turned to you, concern etched into his features. But you didn't move to get out of the car, your gaze fixed on something far off and unreachable. Javier's gentle touch on your hand jolted you back to reality. "Hey," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, "let's get inside where it's warm." His words were like a lifeline, pulling you out of the depths of your thoughts. He understood the weight that was pressing down on you - he was carrying it too.

You nodded, and languidly pushed the car door open and scooted out of the passenger seat. Your legs felt like noodles, weak and wobbly from the energy you exerted on today’s mission. Javier put his arm around you, his thumb delicately circling the top of your shoulder.

Javier's keys jingled in the lock as he turned the handle of the front door, and the familiar scent of the apartment enveloped you like a warm embrace. After hours of feeling disoriented and disconnected since returning from the mission, this was the first sense of comfort that washed over you. The office had been a blur, with memories of sitting at your desk attempting to file paperwork but unable to even type on the typewriter. But now, as you lazily walked into the apartment, everything slowly started to feel real again. Javier set his keys down on the sleek kitchen island, and you followed him aimlessly, your mind finally starting to settle from its chaotic state.

“I’m gonna assume you aren’t hungry?” He asked, his voice still soft. You shook your head no. He nodded, “What do you need?”

As you lifted your gaze to meet his, you couldn't help but notice the deep brown pools of concern gazing back at you. But beneath that concern, you could see a deeper turmoil brewing - the weight of today's mission and countless others weighing heavily on his shoulders. "I don't know," you croaked, your voice hoarse from screaming and covered in dust. You weren't even sure if Javier could hear you over the ringing in your ears. Tears welled up in your eyes as flashes of today's horrors replayed in your mind like a never-ending nightmare.

“Listen, you have to talk about what happened today,” he said urgently. In his experience, keeping everything bottled up inside only made things worse. He leaned across the counter, his elbows propping him up as he reached out to hold your hand in his. His touch was warm and comforting. “Tell me, cariño, what's going through your mind right now?” His dark eyes searched yours with concern and empathy as he waited for you to open up to him.

More images flashed through your head. Your throat burned trying to hold back more tears. “I should’ve done more to save them…”

He sighed, “Mi amor, you can’t think that way. You and I both know we did our very best today. The ‘what ifs’ will only haunt you if you let them.” Javier’s voice was persistent yet comforting. This wasn’t his first rodeo, so you knew he was probably telling the truth.

“How do we go to work tomorrow like nothing happened?” Your voice cracked out, and Javier squeezed your hands.

“Everyone in that office apart from the damn secretaries have experienced days like this. They know what we’re going through. We take as much time as we need to get back into the swing of things, and we persist. That’s all we can do, querida.”

You stood in silence, the words caught in your throat as Javier moved around the spacious apartment. The soft glow of golden lights flickered against the dark walls, casting shadows across his face. He poured two glasses of whiskey from a crystal decanter, the sound of clinking ice cubes filling the room. He slid one glass towards you and you reached out to take it, feeling the coolness of the glass against your fingertips. You brought it to your lips and took a slow sip, letting the warm liquid spread through your body and soothe your racing thoughts. In the background, Javier shuffled around the living room before the smooth melody of an oldies music vinyl began to fill the air.

As you made your way into the room, the smell of Javier's cologne mixed with the remnants of cigarette smoke enveloped your senses. You could feel his warmth radiating from the couch as he sat there, whiskey glass in hand, waiting for you. As you slouched down beside him, your body immediately relaxed, finding solace in his comforting presence and scent. The tension in your muscles began to melt away, and silent tears escaped your eyes once again. The weight of the day's events was finally settling in, and you were now more aware of your memories and surroundings than ever before. With each passing moment, you were forced to confront the aftermath of the mission and all that it entailed.

You sniffled as Javier scooted you closer to him. You laid your head down next to his chest and he caressed the side of your arm. “I know, I know.” He whispered as your tears wet his shirt underneath you.

He wasn’t just saying that to comfort you, he really did know. His own memories of tough missions flashed through his head. He remembered when he witnessed his first death on the job. He knew the feelings of regret and guilt that now lingered inside of you. He had gotten better at coping with the aftermath and trauma of missions, but that’s one thing that the DEA doesn’t teach you.

Once most of your tears had subsided, your mind was back to feeling blank. However, you recognized the song that was now playing from the record player. It was a soft oldies song that you and Javier once slow danced to. You thought it was cheesy at the time, but Javier convinced you to dance with him. He could persuade you to do just about anything.

Javier shifted and got up from the couch, your body sinking into the cushions slightly with his absence. You looked at him curiously as he held out his hand, “Dance with me, amor.”

You almost huffed out a laugh, but couldn’t muster up the energy. “Really, now?” He simply nodded in response. You sighed, and slowly got up from the couch.

You moved closer to him, relishing the warmth and strength of his embrace. His arms encircled your waist, pulling you in close as his fingers traced gentle patterns on your back. You closed your eyes, sinking into the feeling of being held by someone who loved you. In the background, the soft melodies of the song played, transporting you to a distant memory. It was the first time you had heard this song, dancing with Javier in this very apartment. The room was filled with cardboard boxes waiting to be unpacked, but Javier was too eager to set up his treasured record player. A fond smile graced your lips as you swayed together, lost in each other's presence.

“Te quiero mucho (I love you so much)” Javier muttered as he placed a kiss at the top of your head. His hands slowly moved up your arms, holding you tightly to him. It was as if he was so worried he could’ve lost you today that he didn’t want to ever let go of you.

“I love you too Javi,” You rested your head onto his chest. You were finally feeling a sense of peace, a sense that you could go on tomorrow and be almost okay.

“Cmon, let’s call it a night.” Javier sighed and you looked up at him and into his brown puppy eyes that held so much love for you. His lips placed a soft kiss onto yours. A kiss that wasn’t meant to lead to anything else. A kiss that stated he was here, just for you to love.

As the minutes ticked by, you both showered and changed into fresh, cozy clothes. Finally, you found yourselves snuggled up together in bed, with Javier's strong arms wrapped around you from behind. His soft lips pressed against your neck and shoulder, leaving a trail of gentle kisses that sent shivers down your spine. The soothing tempo of his breathing next to yours was like a lullaby, easing you into a peaceful slumber.

That was when the nightmare started. You were back inside the shabby house from earlier. Windows were broken and wooden boards were rotted. You couldn’t believe that anyone actually lived there. You held your gun down tightly by your thigh, just the way that Carillo had taught you. Javier was leading in front of you, and Steve was following behind you.

You heard a glass shatter from upstairs and immediately turned your head towards Javier and Steve, knowing looks shared between the three of you. Your mind seemed to fast forward this awful dream. There were three small children being held as hostages, and two men who the DEA had been trying to track down for months. You had your gun pointed at one of the men, Javier and Steve pointing theirs at the second man. Steve was trying to reason with them, but this was an impossible scenario. Your mind was racing but also laser focused. How could you get them to surrender to the DEA and also let the children go? From what you could tell these children were just pulled off the street, their innocent souls only being used as collateral for a scheming drug cartel.

Before you knew it, guns were firing and you lunged back behind a piece of furniture. You heard the voices of Steve and Javier yelling and trying to fight the men, but it was too late. You stood up and scanned the room, your eyes shifting from Javier to Steve, who were trying to catch their breath, then to the three small bodies lying on the ground.

Your own blood-curdling scream tore through the silence, jolting you awake. In an instant, Javier's strong arms enveloped your trembling body, soothing and comforting you in his warm embrace. Your chest heaved with ragged breaths and tears streamed down your cheeks as you struggled to regain control of your emotions. "Shh, it's okay, I'm here, you're safe," Javier murmured tenderly, gently stroking your hair and rubbing your back. Gradually, your breathing slowed and your heart rate returned to normal as the nightmare faded away. But the fear lingered, a palpable presence in the air. It took several minutes before you could calm yourself enough to speak.

You sat up and put your head in your hands. Javier rubbed your lower back as he sat up with you. “Do you want to talk about it?” He asked, and you thought for a moment.

With teary eyes you looked over at him. “They were just kids, Javi. They didn’t do anything wrong.” Your throat burned and more tears fell. Javier pulled you into him so that your head laid on his chest.

“I know. We are gonna do everything we can to get the bastards who took those kids from their families.” He massaged the side of your arm.

“Javi…” You whispered slowly and moved away to look him in the eyes. You grabbed his hand, running your fingers lightly across his knuckes. “You always talk about raising a family. I always loved imagining a bunch of little Javis running around,” a smile tugged at your lips but disappeared in an instant, “but after today…” Your voice trailed off but Javier was waiting for you to continue. His sad eyes were locked onto your face as you stared at his hands in yours. “I want a family, I really do. But I just think about those kids today. What if those were our kids. Kids who just wanted to play out on the street, and now…”

“Oh angel,” His voice was raspy and you looked up to see tears in his own eyes. “I love you so much, and I know your pain, because it’s mine too. Not a day goes by that I don’t worry about our future, about our family. When we get to that point, where we’re ready to settle down, I’ll take an office job. I won’t care what I’ll do at that point. We’ll move anywhere we want, as long as I have you, and any little ones we bring along.” He smiled lightly as his hand came to rest on your jaw. His words brought tears to your eyes. You didn’t realize how much Javier thought about the future between the two of you. He had a plan for every scenario; he would quit his job tomorrow if it meant having you by his side.

“I love you Javi,” You whispered and planted a small kiss to his cheek.

“Eres mi vida (You are my life), I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He moved his hand down to the back of your neck, pulling you in for a soft kiss. It was so gentle, like he knew how fragile you still felt. His lips felt like the softest silk and the warmest blanket. “Let’s get you back to sleep now.”

“I’m sorry- for waking you up,” You apologized as you laid back down on your pillow. Javier laid facing you, his arms shifting you closer.

“You didn’t wake me. I remember my first nightmare from a mission. I wanted to be awake to help you through yours.” He explained in a low, tired voice. He sacrificed his own sleep just so he could console you when yours was interrupted.

“Oh,” you muttered. You wrapped an arm around his torso. God, you thought, you would be totally lost without him.

You saw Javier smiling to himself, “You’re stronger than you think querida.”

You just shook your head, “I don’t know that I did to deserve you Javi…”

His hand lightly massaged the side of your hip, “You’ve got the purest heart of anyone I’ve ever met, cariño.” He kissed the top of your head, and before you knew it your eyelids felt heavy and you were pulled into sleep again.

Javier sighed to himself, “Dulces sueños mi amor. (Sweet dreams my love.)”

[amyispxnk]

Mi Niña Hermosa

Masterlist

Summary - Javier gets you pregnant, but then he gets scared, leaving you to raise your little girl all alone. One day, he sees you working at a brothel to try and make ends meet, and realises what he needs to do.

A/N: for this ask! i hope you like it pookie<3 also please excuse any bad spanish! i tried my best with it but it might not be 100% accurate.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Word count: 2k

Warnings: mentions of sex work and sex, violence, language, pregnancy/children, arguing, brief suicidal ideation, hurt+comfort, angst, men being men

DO NOT COPY THIS FIC IN ANY WAY PLS AND TY.

“Shh, shh, Carmen, mi amor. Está bien,” you plead with your baby daughter. She’s been up for the past hour because of yet another explosion a few blocks away. You think it was a car bomb this time, but does it really matter? All you know for sure is that Carmen is not going to let you sleep through the night because of it.

She’s almost 12 months old now, which means it's been almost 2 years since you last saw Javi. You hate yourself for it, but sometimes you look at your little girl and feel bitter. It’s not her fault, but she was the reason that Javi finally said goodbye to you.

You both knew it was a long time coming, but when you showed him a positive pregnancy test that night, you yelled at each other until your throats were raw and all your tears had been cried, before he slammed the door in your face and left you there. It was the final time you saw him.

Because of Carmen’s deadbeat father, you ended up in a brothel. It was one of the hardest decisions of your life, but you knew you had to do it for her.

“¡Muy bien chicas, salgan y ganen algo de dinero!” You want to jump out of this building, is your first thought. Crash all the way to the floor and forfeit this terrible life you’ve been ‘blessed with’. But you can’t. So you hold your head high, plaster on a smile, and walk out into the lobby of the brothel.

Your smile drops when you see him.

Of all the fucking brothels to go to, he chooses this one? The one you just so happened to start working at a week prior? That tenth-storey window looks even more tempting right now, especially when he locks eyes with you.

He’s with a man, blonde hair, blue eyes. You think that man’s name is Steve Murphy. Yes, you’ve seen them on the news. Who the fuck hasn’t? It just makes you even more frustrated. He left you and Carmen behind so that he could hunt down Pablo Escobar. He abandoned the two of you for fame.

Javi’s eyes dart back and forth between you and Steve, before he starts making his way towards you.

Hell to the fucking no. You turn on your heel and almost drag a man you noticed was ogling you for the past 5 minutes into one of the rooms, letting the curtains close behind you, separating you from Javi.

The time you share with that man is no different than any of the other men you’ve been with, all uncomfortable and gross for you, mind-blowingly good for him.

Sometimes you still think of Javi when you feel a man on top of you. He was the best you had, after all.

Outside, Javi curses loudly, drawing the eye of a few people and his partner.

“What the fuck was that, Javi? We’re here to question the girl, not chase after this random. Your dry spell that bad?” Steve laughs, clapping him on the back. Javi quickly shrugs him off, jaw clenched and gaze hollow.

“I know her.” He mutters. Yes, he knows you. He knows every part of you. Your smile, which he only saw on a rare occasion. Your eyes, which could always pierce him, see straight through his soul and see the worst parts of him. Your body, which you now sell because of him.

Steve is still yapping on about something or other whilst the storm inside of Javi swirls, growing and growing. You’re behind that curtain, selling your body. He knows why you’re doing it too, and it makes him feel even worse. He feels like he’s about to pass out as it all hits him at once.

What a piece of shit he’s been.

You don’t deserve this life. You deserve to be happy, supported and protected by someone, anyone who can help you. Not Javi though. He’s not fit to be a father. After what he’s seen, what he’s done, he could never care for something as precious as your baby.

But he knows what men are like. Knows that, somehow, he’s one of the better men in this country. It’s not a high bar to pass, this he knows too, but he figures that it must be why you have to work here to provide for yourself and his child. Fuck. He doesn’t even know the gender, the name. He wasn’t there for you at all, and he should have been.

It feels like there’s no going back though. How could he ever apologise enough or make it up to you? What he’s done is irreversible. Just from the way you reacted when you saw him now, it feels like it’ll be impossible to try to apologise to you.

He thinks of his father, his mother. How disappointed would they be? They probably already were, but with this? Abandoning a girl with a child he gave her?

They would surely disown him.

He feels like he’s been ungrateful too. After being raised by two loving and caring parents, how could he leave his own child without one? And with a life like this?

He runs a hand down his face, telling Steve to shut up. A loud shout from the man behind the curtain, surely finishing without giving you a moment of pleasure. He knows what you sound like when the sex is good. You barely made a peep in these past 5 minutes.

The man walks out, commenting on ‘how good that slut was’ as he walks past Javi and Steve, and it takes everything in him not to punch him square in the face there and then.

“I need to talk to her, Steve. 5 minutes.” Javi decides suddenly. He can’t let this go on.

“You better not be fucking on the job, Javi.”

He grunts in response, entering the room and letting the curtains slide closed behind him.

The entire world goes still, silent just for the two of you. Almost 2 years have gone by, and this is how you meet. The shame almost swallows him whole.

“I’m so sorry.” He says, before you can even register what’s happening, because he knows you’ll be ready to kick and scream to get him away from you when you do.

Unsurprisingly, your eyes well with tears, and your face twists into one of disgust.

“Why the fuck are you here.” You spit, holding your robe tighter around yourself.

“We were here for a job, and-”

“Do you think I actually care? You fucked off two years ago, I don’t want to see you back here now. Whatever it is you want, I don’t care.” You interrupt. Yes, this was going to be as difficult as he thought.

“Baby, please just-”

“Don’t fucking call me that! You don’t get to call me that!” You shout. He’s on borrowed time before somebody comes and escorts him out of here.

“Just listen to me, please. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He pleads, desperate for you to listen. He doesn’t know how to get his message across to you.

Your tears burst forth, fat droplets cascading down your skin as you turn away from him.

“Go away, Javier. I don’t want to see your face ever again. I see it in her everyday and it already haunts me enough.”

His baby is a girl.

“I’m here to talk about her. I… I want to help. I’m so sorry for leaving. I got scared. I thought- I wasn’t ready to take care of something as precious as a baby… I thought you would get hurt if it was discovered that a DEA agent like myself had a child.”

“Yeah. Agente de la DEA, Javier fucking Peña,” you scoff, “who abandoned his child in pursuit of fame. To catch a bad guy. Some fucking hero you think you are.”

He can’t get angry with you. He won’t. However wrong you are about what you just said. He won’t do it.

“I don’t want fame.” He grits out. How much of an asshole is he that you thought he would leave you for fame? “I’m trying to help this country. It was dangerous enough for me to see you regularly, you know this. If I was seen with a woman and a child, they wouldn’t waste a second trying to kill you both. I couldn’t let that happen to you. I care about you. Please understand, baby.” He begs you again, hand carefully reaching for your shoulder and turning you to face him. You’re still sniffling, silent tears falling down your cheeks as you refuse to meet his gaze.

“Mírame.” He whispers, cupping your jaw and tilting your head up so he can see your eyes.

“Please, I’m sorry.” He says. He’ll say it thousands, millions of times, it still won’t be enough, but he can see that you’re starting to understand.

“It’s been 2 years. I had to be pregnant and raise her all by myself. Not once did you check on me.”

“I was scared. I was being a coward, I know. I… I won’t be surprised if you tell me to leave again, but let me help pay for her. I don’t want you working here. It’s dangerous.” He murmurs, eyes shining with emotion as he looks into yours.

You shake your head, and he gets ready to argue about it, but you pull him closer, squeezing the air out of him and shaking with sobs again.

“I’ve needed you for so long. I- I don’t know how I managed this long. I need you, Javi.” You choke out, his heart shattering with every word until it’s laid out on the floor for you.

“I know. I’m sorry, baby, I’m so sorry.” He soothes, running his hand through your hair.

Over the next month, he helps you leave the brothel, gives you some money to get on your feet. You still live apart, despite his protests that you’d be safer living with him, you’re not ready yet.

Today you figure will be the decider of that. He’s going to meet Carmen.

You rub your eyes as the morning sun hits you, rousing you from your sleep. The clock reads 9:37. Just over 20 minutes until your daughter finally meets her father.

The 20 minutes are spent waking and feeding her, before a knock on the door stops you.

You exhale shakily and walk to the door, opening it slowly.

“Hola, Javi.” You say softly. He greets you, equally timid. You notice he’s holding a little teddy bear in his hands, almost making you laugh at how it looks being held by this big brooding man, but you just shake your head.

“Come and meet her.” You murmur, opening the door further so he can step inside.

There, messing around on your bed, is the most beautiful little girl he’s ever seen. He can definitely see his features on her face. The lips, the eyes. She got your nose, thankfully he thinks, and her hair is a unique blend of yours and Javi’s.

“She’s so beautiful.” He whispers, and you just nod, still unsure of your feelings for him right now.

“Carmen, baby, say hello.” You coo, picking her up and bringing her over to Javi. He’s quiet, scared, as always. But then she babbles at him, clapping her hands together and trying to reach for him. The teddy. He almost forgot about it.

“Hola pequeña, soy tu papá. ¿Quieres el peluche?” He says softly, waving it around a bit before handing it to her and letting her play. You and Javi talk for a bit while she sits on the bed, but then something happens. She gets tired, which is normal around 2pm, but instead of crawling to you, she goes to Javi. Carmen wraps her little fingers around one of his larger ones, curling up in his lap. The two of you still, and it shocks you to see tears appearing in his eyes as he strokes her hair, letting her sleep on him.

You decide to move in with him that night, realising that you don’t want him to be away from you and Carmen ever again.

TYSM for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! 💞

[devilmademewriteit]

Playing Dangerous

part 2 of Salvatore

pairing: javier peña x afab!fem!reader

summary: sure, the fact that he’d schemed up an entire, elaborate ruse to get between your legs was upsetting. more upsetting was the fact that he refused to fess up, insisting that you needed to be protected (or at the very least—cautious) because your life was in ‘grave danger.’ most upsetting, however? that would be the fact that through it all and above everything else, you still wanted him—badly.

warnings: rough sex/smut (fingering, fem penetration, oral [m receiving]) so 18+ only content; afab fem reader; mentions of reader having long hair; bratty!reader; brat-tamer!javi; alcohol consumption; smoking; pet names (baby, sweetheart, cariño, hermosa); some angst; dubcon (slight intoxication, power imbalance, age gap).

word count: 10.7k (sorry again)

no use of y/n in this fic

hello here is part twooooo! thank you for all the love on Salvatore I absolutely love all of you so much. you don't rly need to read p1 to enjoy this, just know that: reader is the ambassador's secretary and is an asshole, Javi is also an asshole, they fucked for the first time a few days ago b/c he took her home after someone seemed to be after her life.

don’t forget to join the taglist if you’re nasty; feedback, asks, comments, smoke signals and carrier pigeons always welcome. kisses. -em<3

—

read part 3, Dark Paradise, here.

—

Let’s get in the back of your cop car, officer! - Playing Dangerous

“I am not speaking to you.”

Murphy’s eyes come alive with exasperation, a striking shift from their usual half-asleep, perpetually vacant gawp. Not quite at the point of impatience yet, his voice is soft when he responds.

“Please.”

You lean back in your chair, crossing your arms. An impassive sneer makes its way onto your expression.

Not a fucking chance.

Not only were you not planning on ever doing Steve Murphy—and especially, his asshole partner—even the smallest of favours throughout your remaining time on this godforsaken planet, you’d come to the conclusion (quite recently, in fact) that you’d rather dance barefoot on broken glass than be in the same room as either member of the pair.

And it was a shame, really.

After that (now regrettable, once incredible) night at Peña’s place, everything had been fine.

More than fine. Not even awkward.

For a glorious moment, waking up next to him, ruined and sore and bruised and satisfied, sharing a morning coffee and then a ride to work—peace (and the planted seeds of something else, too) had finally settled across the worn-in battlegrounds between you, solid roots spreading with each passing second spent not bickering. For crying out loud, when he’d gotten called away to Bogotá that very same day, you’d put yourself to work keeping his place clean, going so far as to anticipate his return.

Everything had been fine.

Until, of course, you’d gotten the old Chevy serviced.

“Car’s running fine, señorita. Put that missing part back, s’good to go.”

“Missing part?”

“The spark plug—wasn’t in there when we looked.”

And the missing pieces fell into place.

How he’d waltzed into your car earlier on in the day, running his fingers along the hard, hot plastic of the dash—analyzing, observing, and finally commenting on your shitty engine. Then, he’d been conveniently there, waiting for you in the middle of the night, watching you wrestle your hood open in the parking lot after work. Hell, he took you to his place after he’d told you he'd seen a shady truck parked in front of yours… and you’d trusted him.

Without bothering to check for yourself, you’d trusted him.

You had to hand it to the man; it was a clever plan. Wear you down during the day only to corner you while alone, vulnerable, and at night, with no possible avenues for escape.

All to get inside your pants.

God.

Murphy huffs, bringing you back down to Earth. “Listen,” he rubs his temples, exhaustion weighing down the curves of shoulders, “We just want to make sure you’re safe. You don’t have to stay with him, either; Connie—”

“I don’t want to hear it,” you snap, narrowing your eyes in full view of his own. “I keep wondering, though... seeing as you're… thick as thieves, these days,” you lean forward over your desk, studying his swallow. “Was it you that shot off that gun? Or did he get someone else to participate in his little scheme?”

The agent tilts his head to the side, putting on the air of a wordless 'really, sweetheart?' before launching into a recitation of a sorely well-versed explanation.

But you cut him off, unforgiving in your suspicion. “Don’t bother, alright? Even if I did believe that, what, some 'cartel sicario'—” you emphasize the ridiculousness of the statement by tossing up a couple of well-timed air quotes “—was after me…?” and then you’re gesturing wildly to yourself, fingertips pointed straight to your heart. “I would rather die—really, seriously, die—than step foot into your home—or-or fucking Peña’s—Ever. Again.”

The mounting ire behind your breathless rambling finally wears him down; he surrenders his complexion to a look of genuine defeat. His arms drop to his sides, heavy and limp.

As you try to appear busy, fidgeting with the scattered papers and documents lying listlessly across your desk, Murphy turns on his heels, stooping toward the exit.

For a brief moment, he hesitates, coming to a slow halt halfway down his holy pilgrimage of freeing you from his fucking presence.

“Did you…” and he briefly trails off, anticipating your wrath with a wince. “Did you fill out that form?”

Irritation clouds your thoughts. Its manifestations in your body feel almost violent.

“What do you think, genius?”

You scare yourself with the aggression underpinning each and every word.

Inside the safety of your mind, your inner dialogue treats him even worse.

Go, motherfucker. Go, go, go, go, go or I’ll tear us both apart, I’ll explode, I’ll—

You hope that it’s Luck listening to your prayers (and not God), because as soon as your brain has time to register the nature of your wicked, near sacrilegious thoughts toward the man, Murphy’s yellow-dusted crown is drooping down in eventual resignation, leading the way as he trudges back to his corner.

A relief.

A short lived one.

Too short.

Because…

Well, because those fucking memories won’t stop replaying inside your mind, etched like crude Botticellis on the backs of your eyelids.

Overlaying the non-stop highlight reel of a vicious fight with Peña, just that morning—

“Well, I didn’t see a car. What I saw was you, whipping me over to your fuck-pad—and now? I see your whole... fucking masterplan to get me into bed.”

“You’re talking fuckin’ crazy. There’s no pussy in the world that’s worth pulling all that.”

—are flashes of his bare, glistening chest, an almost tangible haze of longing obscuring his eyes. You’d taken him in your mouth; you’d felt him all over: against you, with you, inside you.

And when you’re not seeing him, you’re forced to hear him, over and over and over again.

“You fuckin’ sing for me when you’re comin’ on my cock.”

So, you push certain memories away by calling on certain others, repeating every cruel word you’d ever exchanged with each other like a mantra, an affirmation.

They remind you of the man that Javier Peña truly was.

“You are the worst person I’ve ever had the shit-luck of meeting, Peña.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not too crazy about you, either. Got some serious growin’ up to do, sweetheart.”

A loud snap wrenches you back to your senses. You unfurl your fingers to reveal the broken remnants of a poor, innocent pencil you’d been white-knuckle-death-gripping.

What really had you ticking was that, after you’d hurled accusations and insults at him for the better part of an hour—totally monopolizing the space of the familiar, dusty old filing room—he’d had the nerve to continue on with his little act.

“You don’t have to stay with me—”

And his voice had been coated in poison, laced with the kind of fiery contempt that surely only a guilty man could achieve.

“—but do me a favour and just don’t be a fuckin’ idiot. It’s shit work, hiring new secretaries.”

He hadn’t waited around for an answer, leaving you alone with his final words and a mountain of your own unsaid ones.

So, you’d hissed a “fuck off” to the lingering ghost of his presence in the room, trying, in vain, to slow your shallow breaths.

You heave a sigh, forehead dropping to lay heavy against the desk.

If only you could take your brain out for the day. If only you could run it under cold water. Better yet, if only you could scrub it clean with bleach, put it in the dishwasher, run it with the damn laundry—anything to make it shiny and new and untainted.

Peña was lying.

He had to be lying.

What kind of shit sicario goes after secretaries who, beyond not knowing what they’re supposed to know about, don’t care enough to actually retain any of it?

Not a good sicario. Definitely not one who would still be alive in Medellìn, today.

It was all bullshit.

~

You weren’t the kind of person who attended work parties.

They always ran excruciatingly long. On top of that, you had to watch traumatized coworkers drink. A lot. Then, there was, of course, after-hours work-talk.

None of that had ever screamed 'best night ever!' to you.

Tonight, however, you hadn’t been given a choice: the ambassador had needed 'someone there, you know, just in case work stuff comes up’ which really meant that she was banking on you to give her a ride home at the end of the night.

Like that was happening. She hadn't been pleased when you'd made it clear to her that you were out of commission, off-the-clock, done-zo starting at fifteen to ten. You'd hoped that, at that point, she would've rescinded her original request. 

She hadn't. 

Still, Noonan had spent the week being remarkably kind to you—maybe her invitation was her (deeply misguided) way of trying to make up for the shit-storm she’d watched you face over past few days (whether she believed Peña’s dystopian, hitman fantasy was uncertain; either way, she’d witnessed your torment at his hands, and both realities seemed equally as emotionally taxing).

Despite all the hints you’d dropped about wanting the night off, she either hadn’t noticed, hadn’t cared, or thought you were just trying to be polite.

Come on.

She’d been your boss long enough to know there was no chance of you pussy-footing around out of politeness.

The event was meant to commemorate some big accomplishment—a narco sting gone right (or else, some big narco boss gone six-feet-under). The reason behind the festivities wasn’t of any importance to you—getting through the next few hours as quickly and as painlessly as possible took up all of the remaining (albeit limited) space in your head.

Because, afterwards? You were going out. 

A good friend’s bachelorette, a shit-ton of dark tequila, and the warm lips of a total stranger.

God, you needed that. Every intimate spot on your body was in desperate need of a cleanse. Your tongue, the soft skin between your thighs, the peach-fuzz on your cheeks…

They remembered him.

They made sure you couldn’t forget him.

About half-way through serving your sentence in regulatory purgatory, someone turns on the stereo. A Queen song—the one that everyone knows. You’re looking around, trying to locate the source of the sound.

It’s mostly administrative and political bodies crowding up the office's stuffy foyer. There’s an odd clink of glass meeting glass whenever someone new walks in, or else when a deal’s finally graduated beyond the negotiation stage.

It’s too highbrow, too boring and white-collar for restless DEA agents, you remind yourself.

Slowly, slowly the hours trickle by.

The music helps—every Diaz song has the minutes moving double-time.

And after what feels like centuries of excruciating small-talk, of brushing off endless, casual condescension, of staring at the clock hanging off the wall, finally, it’s time to go.

First, a last minute change (you’re not wearing a damn button-up to the bar—it’ll be a tight dress and cute shoes or absolutely nothing at all) and a quick refresher in the bathroom. Then, you’re trailing a bee-line towards the exit with 'home-free' on the tip of your tongue. 

Keep your head down. Nod. A chagrined smile to each pair of gawking eyes.

‘Cause soon? You’ll be dancing.

You’re straddling the office doors, left foot in, right foot out when an authoritative voice calls your name from behind.

Christ Almighty.

Turning slowly, you find yourself triangulated between Noonan and…

Fucking Steve Murphy.

That one looks apprehensive. The former?

A bit red in the face.

“Murphy, here,” the ambassador gestures sloppily towards the agent’s uneasy form, “Tells me he needs something. Papers, right? Think we can get that to him before you leave for your… little soirée—what do you say?”

She doesn’t catch it, but he does; your unbridled, aversive stare pierces him right between his eyes. Forcing it down (and oh, does it ever burn your throat) you etch a reluctant smile, nodding wordlessly to your boss.

God, if only money were an object. This damn job would be a short paragraph on your resume, a blip in your timeline on this Earth.

Noonan slaps Murphy on the back, harrumphing as though she’d just solved world hunger. Quickly, she finds someone new to accost (or be accosted by), swept into a different, equally-boring conversation before you can even begin to feel angry at her for putting you into such a… distasteful position.

And you whir on him.

Before the rush of accusations gets a chance to part from your lips, Murphy interrupts you, putting his hands up in mock surrender.

“I didn’t say a thing.” He sounds serious, sincere. “Swear. She came up to me and just… knew all about it.”

You narrow your eyes in suspicion. Nonetheless, your fingernails slowly retreat from their burrows in the skin of your palm.

It’s not because of his earnestness.

No.

It’s because only a serious maniac would flaunt their under-the-table bullshit so publicly, flying it right under the ambassador’s nose. Whatever those records were for (and whatever the reason why Peña and Murphy so badly needed them), it was becoming increasingly clear that they were not intended to land in either of their hands.

Murphy hadn’t been nervous because of you. He’d been nervous because of her. A little less drink, a bit more curiosity, and Noonan would've been privy to whatever it was that the pair was up to.

“Fine.”

He exhales, shoulders relaxing, dropping like stones with the release.

Without another word, you make your way down the hall, charging toward the alcove harboring your desk. Murphy trails behind, five feet back at all times like a recently-scolded school-child.

Good.

It takes a few, long minutes to get the job done.

He waits around anxiously, fiddling with your stationary (until you slap his hand away from your beloved pens and planners) and pacing around the room.

When it's done, you don’t read the form, you don’t investigate. The less you know, the better.

And frankly?

You couldn’t give less of a shit.

As the papers slide out of the printer, you warn him: “You’re gonna need a signature from their side, you know. I can only get you so far.”

He nods, taking the precious sheets in hand. “Think we got that side covered.” Then, he’s reading them over, checking to make sure everything's in order. You stand with your hand on your hip, waiting impatiently for his goddamn approval. After an eternity (really—by the end of it you’re genuinely wondering whether the man should get tested for dyslexia), Murphy hums in satisfaction, giving you an awkward, “Thanks, again.”

You scoff, crossing your arms over your half-exposed chest.

Didn’t even thank me a first time, asshole.

He spins around, aiming for the exit, when another body appears before him.

And the man stops Murphy in his tracks, deep-brown eyes trailing down to the packet of papers cradled between his partner's hands.

“Noonan came through, then.”

It’s all he says.

Your nostrils flare.

The skin on your face positively burns.

Of course it had been him. He was probably the entire reason behind the ambassador’s unusual tipsyness, too. Hell, he’d probably fed her Prosecco and half-compliments ‘til she’d been more than happy to do him a million favours.

Wasn’t that his M.O., anyways? ‘Get ‘em drunk and get my way?’

Three comfortable, familiar words find themselves sliding—easily—off your tongue.

“Fuck off, Peña.”

You surprise yourself with the cruelty of your tone, the biting emphasis of each word.

He settles his onyx eyes on you. They glaze over with hunger, with amusement, with danger.

Fuck.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, sweetheart—I will in a minute,” and he nods at his partner, effectively dismissing him.

Murphy hesitates, eyes jumping between the stand-off taking place before him. Likely, he was trying to decide which one of you was going to murder the other first.

Finally, with his beloved form tucked under his arm, Murphy heaves a sigh of resignation, and then he’s gone.

Leaving you alone with Peña.

The corners of his lips pull back into an arrogant smirk as his eyes rake over your body—done up, dressed down, and positively fuming in your little kitten heels.

“You look hot.”

It’s all he says.

Some girls would’ve killed to hear those words from him. You’d spent years watching their eyes trail his movements in the office, listening to their puling voices—'is Javi there?'—over the phone.

But it just makes you want to scream.

Fearing the actual possibility of that coming to fruition, you keep your mouth sealed shut. Tight.

Silence won’t do for Peña.

“What’d you tell me, once?” He muses softly, making his way towards your desk. “Somethin’ about this place not bein’ a… a what’d you call it? A brothel?”

Dog.

He yanks a retort from your lips as if he had full command over them. “I’m going out, asshole.”

His face twitches ever-so-slightly, just enough for you to catch the hint of emotion. Then, it’s gone.

“No, you’re not.”

Casual as ever, he does that thing: runs a finger from the corner of his bottom lip down the length of it, looks up at you through thick, dark eyebrows.

You bristle at the sheer, unwinding effect it has on you.

“Yes, I am.”

He raps his knuckles against the desk in irritation; nevertheless, his voice is soft, imploring as he persists. “C’mon, baby. I need you to listen to me, right now. It’s..." and he undresses you with a mere look, "It's not a good time for you to be goin’ to those kinds of places.”

Just like any other man.

Probably, Peña’s ego was so over-inflated that the mere thought of any of his conquests colluding with another man had him on the brink of spontaneous combustion.

Because God forbid you fuck anyone else.

God forbid you even think of touching anyone else.

And this strange, uncharacteristic possessiveness, this… need for control—it was wearing extremely thin.

The man had zero authority over you. He certainly didn’t get to preside over the choices you made during your free time.

“Don’t call me baby, Peña—I’m not your baby.” The snapped retort makes you sound so young, to the point where, for a moment,  you understand why the agent had called you a brat so many times that one, fateful night.

Still, you soldier on, focussed on freeing yourself from yet another one of the evening's grueling set-backs. “And I’m not gonna ‘listen to you’ just ‘cause you think you’ve got some sort of… machismo claim over me.”

A deft muscle in his jaw tenses. He rounds the desk, moving just a half-foot closer to you; that alone is enough to jump-start your heart, and you’re almost sure he can hear it, jack-hammering away inside your chest. You both know that being the first to step away signified weakness—concession—so you stay put (even when your legs yield to a slight wobble).

And he’s almost crooning. “You can spread those legs for half the country, for all I care, baby.” A condescending look, cast down at you over the bridge of his nose. “Not what this is about.”

Yeah, right.

“Please.” You roll your eyes. “Still working that angle?”

He takes a step forward. “Is it so crazy to think that I could just be tryna look out for you?” Meeting your gaze, he speaks earnestly—pleading through his irritation.

“I don’t need you to ‘look out for me’,” Your back grazes against the ambassador’s doors—you kick yourself internally for having subconsciously conceded to a back-step. “Especially not since the last time I thought that’s what this was?” your fingers gesture wildly between the (lack of) space separating your bodies, “You totally took advantage of me.”

A pause as the agent fluctuates from bafflement to genuine offense.

“Took adv—are you being serious?” he scoffs, shaking the coarse, dark hair on his crown. “I gave you, like, one drink.”

Victory courses through your veins at the sudden, intense flood of irritation marking his tone, the vein popping in his jaw. 

Anything to get to him, to make him tick, to scratch that itch. 

Dig. Dig. Dig.

A shrug. “Maybe you put something in it.”

His eyebrows jump up, eyes widening with the movement.

Just. So. Close.

“And… you know, I am a lot younger than you—”

“—okay, enough.”

Peña’s growled response has your voice fizzling out into nothingness. Closing what’s left of the distance between you, muscled form looming, he flattens you against the ambassador’s office doors. As one large hand slowly splays out next to your ear, the other comes up to grasp your chin. His fingers wrap around your jawbone, all the way from one ear to the other. 

You’re stuck, frozen under the weight of that dominant leer.

“Y’know,” he muses, deep and low, “It’s really fuckin’ obvious what all this is actually about, sweetheart.” Trapped in his glare, you watch his eyes grow dark, his gravelly voice falling into a register you’d never before heard it descend to. And he’s so, so close to you, close enough that you can smell him: that distinct, earthy scent of man that never failed to have your head spinning, your arms weak. “This… highschool bullshit you’ve been pullin’ since I got back… accusin’ me of all kinds of shit—"

You deny yourself the pleasure of looking at his lips when his words withdraw into an almost-whisper.

“Makes you feel real innocent, doesn’t it?

You don’t respond, concentrating on stifling the growing ache in your core, the thump-thump-thumps inside your rib cage, the lump forming in your throat.

A rarity, a miracle, Jesus turning water into wine: words fail you. 

“Know what I think, cariño?” His fingernails press into your cheeks, digging soft indents. Not to bruise—

To hold you steady.

To assure himself of his command over your full, devoted attention.

When he finally continues, his smoky breath raises the hairs along your exposed skin.

God, it must be, like, nine-hundred degrees in the room.

“I think”—and he’s toying with you, near-black eyes dancing with amusement—“You’re just embarrassed.”

Leaning in, his lips brush against the ridges of your ear, slow words washing over you in big, heavy waves. “‘Bout how easy it was for me to get between these legs.” Male, calloused fingers ghost over the skin of your thighs, creeping higher and higher up the length of your body.

“Remember how wet you got for me, cariño? Beggin’ me to fuck you so rough?”

And for a brief, suspended moment—

You do.

He leans back enough for you to watch his eyes harden, uttering an “I remember it all, baby,” as his thumb leaves your jaw to trace the highest point of your cheekbone.

And his tone turns to stone. 

“Especially when you’re acting like you need a fuckin’ reminder.”

Your cheeks grow red-hot. The ground feels unsteady under your feet—and the spell breaks.

Pig.

“You’re fucking vile, Peña,” you spit, wrenching his grip off your face. “And also, dead wrong.” Slamming into his shoulder, you aim to storm out.

He catches your arm, twisting you back around to face him. “If you go out tonight,” the man near-growls, lecturing down at you like a damn parent, “You’re putting your life and everyone else's on the line.”

You tear your wrist from his fingers, shrugging off his empty warning with a dramatic spin on your heels.

Strutting out, you leave him with a poison-coated, “Say ‘hi’ to the whores for me.”

And you’re gone.

~

It’s loud. Your feet are sore from dancing in your heels. A different, unfamiliar body is in reach in every possible direction from your own.

It’s perfect.

Five shots in and you still feel like you could take more, if only to forget the exhausting events of the day.

Less than 48 hours ago you’d been prepared—dear God, longing—to hand yourself over to a man you were now quite happy to never see again. With your hands wrapped around a stranger’s neck, you’re determined to cleanse yourself of his lingering traces.

He’s gazing down at you, male, hungry eyes gunning for the taking. Local, you guess, or at the very least South-American. After a daring look, you grab him by the collar, brushing your starved lips against his.

“Want to get out of here?”

The pronunciation isn’t great—but it does the trick. He nods enthusiastically, allowing you to take his hand in your own without hesitation. Too easy. The hard part is weaving through the agitated, bustling crowd with your nameless partner in tow.

It’s reckless. It’s stupid. But God, is it ever necessary.

Escaping your friends at the start of the night had been child’s play, and they could be counted on to be too fucked-up at this hour to notice your absence, anyway.

Good.

Your act of desperation would be remembered solely by its participants.

A gentle evening wind swirls around your tingling body, the day’s heat hanging thick in the air as you step onto the street, the syncopated thumps of Latin music fading unwillingly into the background.

Pivoting abruptly, you flatten yourself against the wall outside, pulling the stranger in close by the fabric of his blue button-up.

“Yours or mine?”

He smirks, gentle lines forming by his golden eyes. Internally, you commend yourself: the catch was quite pretty.

“Here is okay, I think.”

Then, his lips are on yours, parting you open in a sloppy, drunk kiss.

This could work.

His traveling hands already seem to be numbing some of the tension simmering under your skin.

This could work.

His rough kisses overwhelm your senses, slowly filling the hollow ache lodged at the heart of your core.

Please, God—let this work.

Just as a hand reaches up to cradle the back of your neck—

(let this work, let this work, let this work)—

Just as a pleased moan travels from your lungs into his own—

Tires screech against the pavement, slamming you back into your body, wrenching you straight into the dire moment. Tearing your lips from the stranger’s, you peer over his shoulder, eyes widening at the sight of a black Camino screaming to a stop right before you. Time stops; the windows are down, and what you know to be the barrel of a hand-gun pokes out from the backseat.

“Get down!”

Maybe it's in your head (after all, it would make sense for your psyche to summon his voice in a moment so violent); or maybe it's real. Either way, you listen to the command, hitting the ground without any reservations. And those stupid heels—you stumble, face-planting onto the pavement, scraping every exposed part of your body against hot, rough cement.

A cry of terror rips from your throat as the sound of bullets punctuates the warm, summer night—Jesus, it’s louder than anything you’d ever heard before. 

Somewhere along the chaos, the pretty stranger from the bar books it down the calle.

Everything happens so fast. A familiar Cherokee veers in the way, separating you from the attackers. The surrounding air becomes rife with lead, a terrified chorus of male and female voices joining the symphony, and you really can’t tell whether the pain in your chest is from the friction of your own harmonizing screams or if it’s bullets tearing through your body. From the ground, you watch your attackers’ vehicle take off down the street, haphazardly parting crowds of cowering civilians in its wake.

When it all stops, it doesn’t really stop.

Violence persists, ringing in your ears like a doomsday clock going off, an A-bomb alarm siren. The echoes are happy to prolong your torment.

The Jeep’s passenger door swings open. You scramble back, scampering down the pavement as adrenaline claims you in never-ending rushes.

“Get inside, now.”

You nearly sob with relief at the familiar voice. It hadn't all been in your head. Jumping up on unstable legs, you lunge into his car, jerking the door shut behind you.

Without sparing a moment, his white-knuckled hands yank the wheel to the side, veering onto a road just off the main strip.

Javier Peña’s never looked so stressed.

“You’re not gonna follow them?” It comes out as a cry, a desperate plea for retribution.

He doesn’t answer.

Which doesn’t stop you.

You want to see them punished for making you feel so helpless, and for the scrapes and bruises decorating your elbows, your knees, your palms.

“Javi,” a begging king of shout, “Why aren’t we following them?”

“‘Cause you’re in the fucking car!”

In the heat of the moment, the cutting edge of his harsh tone doesn’t bother you. If anything, it’s gentle compared to the violent sensations stewing within your body and mind.

“So?”

He takes a sharp right, slamming your side against the Jeep’s hard interior.

“Been in enough…” He grits his teeth, trying to keep his irritation in check, “Compromising situations tonight, alright? Now, just shut up ‘n let me drive.”

You pipe down, not awfully interested in getting yelled at again in your fragile state.

At first, it feels like the full-body trembles wracking your entire being won’t ever cease. And yet, by the grace of God, after a few minutes, the thundering behind your ribcage slowly subsides.

It helps that you’re still a little buzzed.

It especially helps when his driving slows and the streets begin to empty—when the shops and houses become more and more recognizable, when the night grows more and more tame.

You know where he’s headed. The safety of the intended destination has you relaxing, finally level enough to take deep breaths.

Eventually, he stops the car, cutting the engine in full view of his building's front door.

The rumbling stops, and suddenly, it's very quiet. Javier groans, leaning back against his seat, bringing a hand up to his temples. He doesn’t look at you, keeping his eyes closed behind the palm of his hand.

And oh.

He’s pissed.

“Go inside, lock the door, don’t open it for anyone.” His command, though dripping with ire, is underpinned with genuine concern. When you don’t respond, he finally shifts his gaze to meet yours, fixing you with an intimidating, severe kind of stare.

“Do you understand?”

At first, your impulse is to respond with a bitchy retort, to meet his intensity head-on with your own brand of unpleasantness. You stifle that reflex, taking stock of the situation at hand: Peña had just saved you from a flurry of bullets.

Peña… had just saved you…

And the realization hits you like a punch to the gut.

He’d been telling the truth.

Someone was really after you. Twice, now, they'd tried to take your life.

And, still? Your addled brain can’t seem to wrap itself around the idea of Peña’s innocence. Your bursting question takes you both by surprise.

“So, you didn’t take my spark plug?”

He stares at you, full mouth parted in genuine bewilderment. Then, he scoffs, breathing an exhausted exhalation. “No, I didn’t take your damn spark plug, sweetheart. That’s what I’ve been saying. If you’d bothered to actually fuckin’ listen for once in your life…” he shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation, “‘Could’ve avoided all… this.”

Shame tries its best to seep into your core. You resist it, scrambling for reasons to justify your actions to him.

To yourself.

You hated being wrong. That feeling had a tendency of overwhelming everything else—of overriding rationality, itself.

So, you turn to a classic defense, an ol' reliable: deflection. “After all the shit you’ve put me through over the years, can you blame me for not, just like, blindly trusting you?”

He scowls, angling his shoulders to square off with your own.

“Never asked for you to ‘blindly trust’ shit, though, did I?” He huffs, “Jesus.” 

You try not to wince as he continues on, as the truth of his words and the seriousness of his delivery render you mute. “You’re a secretary, sweetheart. This is my job—my life—okay? When I tell you to be careful, for the sake of your own damn good, you need to listen to me.”

There’s a long pause as his words tease out your final, entangled threads of resistance.

He was right. You’d been stupid in your denial, putting yourself and dozens of others in danger.

Putting Javi in danger.

It takes everything you have to fight the tears threatening to well along your lashes. But there's no sense in allowing yourself to mourn your mistakes—at least not at this very moment.

No, now was not the time to work through your shame.

Now was the time to seek forgiveness.

To make amends.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, trying to catch his downcast eyes. 

And it’s true.

Javi shakes his head, resisting your apology. He says nothing, and your heart aches for him.

Whatever this man was—he hadn’t deserved a fraction of the hell you’d given him.

The hell you’d given him because…

Because he’d gotten close. Too close. Close enough to soften you, to see you in a way that not one single person had the right to. He’d been a novelty: the first man you’d trusted enough to be capable of handling the full breadth of yourself. And when that had started to feel volatile—as though he’d gained too much of you?

Well, you’d needed a reason to push him away. To wrench yourself back from him.

Because you’d been embarrassed.

Knowing that he’d been right about that, too, makes you feel so small, so young, and deeply naive.

Immature.

You lean over, crooning at his turned profile.

“I mean it, Javi.” His name is your weapon—you will it to wear him down—a reminder of what it sounds like leaving your lips. “I’m sorry.”

Again, silence.

It’s fucking unbearable.

Placing an unsteady hand on his knee, you trail it up his thigh—slowly. His chest hitches with the force of a deep, sharp inhale and yet, he still refuses to meet your gaze.

But you catch his reflection in the glass: a slight twinge of the eyebrows, a delicate parting of the lips, and a hint of longing within those furious eyes.

Wiggle room.

“Could you ever forgive me?” You ask timidly, seductively, fingers creeping towards the crease of his trousers and that big silver buckle looming right above it.

Finally, he turns, his expression meeting yours with a hungry (albeit still deeply annoyed) look.

That wanting you’d learned to recognize…

It excites you.

And as you tug at his belt, releasing it with tantalizing slowness, you keep your steady gaze on his undecided one, uttering a pleading, “I can make it up to you, baby.”

Wordlessly, he watches your fingers move to the button of his pants, then to his fly, working with dedication, with delicate care.

There’s movement as you reach your fingers underneath the fabric. He grows hard for you, burgeoning out of the fabric in a matter of seconds.

It’s all the invitation you could’ve possibly hoped for.

His skin is hot against your knuckles as they slide down his lower abdomen. Grasping the base of his cock, you use two hands to spring him free.

God, he’s even bigger than how you’d remembered him—bigger than even your guiltiest fantasies.

Javi groans softly when you pull him, releases a hot, shallow breath when you stroke him, and a low, breathy “fuuuck” when you finally, finally take him in your mouth.

He tastes like the salt of the ocean. This close, you can smell men's cologne mingling with sweat.

It’s heaven.

And you just don’t want him to be angry anymore. It’s all you can think about—lips cradled adoringly around his cock, tongue running up and down the long length of him—as he throws his head back in pleasure.

He eventually relaxes, conceding to the ecstasy you persuade him with. Almost drinking the uncertainty—the resistance—right out of him.

“Christ,” he groans, tangling his fingers in your hair, forcing you to take in every last inch of him. “Wanted to shut you up like this all fuckin’ day.”

It becomes a challenge to breathe, but air simply isn’t a priority with a man like him at your fingertips, as your responsibility. This, he knows, his heavy hand determining the slow, careful pace, the impossible depth, and the angle of your unspoken apology.

Growing wet and lightheaded at the same time, you loose a moan against his velvety skin.

Javi laughs, darkly. “Always got somethin’ to say, huh? Even with a mouth full of cock.”

You smile around him—taunts are good. Better than silence, anyways. “Mhmm.”

The sounds of his laughter rumbles soft and low throughout his middle—so different, so sweet and innocent compared to the wet, filthy ones produced by your mouth’s ministrations.

You give him everything you have, ignoring the droplets forming in the corners of your eyes and lips, the dull burning inside your lungs. When the tip of his cock lodges at the back of your throat, you keep him there.

Whatever Javi gives you, you take.

Happily.

Every last drop would find its home inside you, traveling down the length of your tongue and into all of your warmest places.

It was the least you could do for him.

But he has other plans. His hand bunches up your hair, tightening into a fist to pull you off of him. His cock pops out from between your lips; you’re guided up to face him.

He looks stern.

Dangerous.

Out of breath, tears sliding down your cheeks, lips glistening with the slick of your own spit—you’re a welcome sight to any man of his kind.

“Say it.”

He makes use of his free hand, wiping the coarse pad of his thumb over your bottom lip, clearing the string of saliva collecting there.

It’s not rocket science, figuring out what it is that the man wants to hear.

“I’m sorry, Javi.”

Neither of you had ever known how much an apology could sound like a prayer.

“Yeah?” Despite the gentleness of his tone, his eyes darken with lust to the point that you feel genuinely nervous about his intentions. “What are you so sorry for, hermosa?”

Fuck, the pet-names... the way his voice changed when reverting to its native tongue—rolling with confidence. At such an awkward angle, you’re forced to grip onto his forearms to keep balance. They feel strong and unbending beneath your fingertips. 

Everything… everything about him draws you in.

He just makes you crazy.

Crazy enough to smile, to turn your profile to the side, laying a long, careful kiss to his palm. Crazy enough to answer his question in a needy, whiney whisper: “for being such a brat.”

He almost smiles, near-black eyes dancing with hunger, with approval, with a playful kind of ire.

Jerking his head to the right, he gestures to the backseat. “Wanna show me how sorry you are, cariño?”

You’re nodding before the question really even registers.

He releases his hold on you, deft fingers quickly untangling from your hair.

Victory. Victory. Victory.

Then, you’re stumbling out of the passenger side, opening the door to the backseat.

(You take a second to commend yourself for driving a man so wild, making him so impatient that he couldn’t be bothered to walk the ten feet required to fuck you inside his apartment. Or, maybe he just liked letting the neighbours watch.)

Before you can even step foot inside the car, you’re being hauled by your upper arms onto Javi’s lap. He manhandles you into his desired position, spreading your knees around his thighs until your dress is hitched up, only covering your ass half-way.

After snaking a hand between your bodies, the agent runs his thumb down the slick fabric of your underwear.

Already, you’re holding back a slew of pathetic whines.

“Next time you give me head”—God, the feeling of those fingers against your clit, the bliss of them pushing your panties to the side, assessing your readiness for him—“Wanna be able to see that pretty mouth while my dick’s inside it, sweetheart.”

His lust has him speaking a bit out of breath. It makes every crude, filthy word sound sweet, almost endearing to you.

Nodding in response, you work with him—lowering yourself onto his fingers as he pushes them between your folds.

“Jesus Christ,” he smiles, head falling back in appreciation, “You’re soaked.”

His fingers curl up, pressing to please in all the right places. Your answer arrives between gasps: “You tasted good.”

That pleases him.

“Yeah?” and he’s dragging his digits out of you, letting them trail through your folds and along your heavy, sore clit before leaving you wanting, leaving that needy cunt clenching around nothing. “I bet you taste even better.”

Then, his grip is on your jaw, pressing damp spots into your skin under his index, middle, and ring fingers. With the pad of his thumb pressed firmly to your bottom lip (and the row of teeth behind it), Javi eases your mouth open, wider and wider and wider for him.

“Show me—show me how good you taste.”

His index crawls onto your tongue. You close your lips around it, sucking him in until his fingernail scratches the back of your throat. He wants to be shown, so you show him: gazing intently into his eyes, you watch his brow furrow as he studies your every movement, as he drinks in your every moan.

“Fuckin' hell,” he groans, commending your efforts. “You’d do anything I asked right now, wouldn’t you, hermosa?”

Your bottom teeth graze the undersides of his index as you pull off—“yes, Javi.” Almost instinctively, you’re reaching your hand down, letting it coast down the hardness of his chest to rub circles around the slick tip of his cock, still peeking out from his open fly.

“Not yet,” he clicks his tongue, pushing his index, and this time, his middle and ring, too, back through the opening of your lips, “Need to clean yourself off every one of these fingers, first—thaaat’s right.” You listen, obediently sucking everything he gives you. He instructs and praises, “easy—easy, cariño, there it is,” as he watches you glide up and down him in slow, big pulls, all the way down to his knuckles.

It’s fucking filthy, and he loves it, unable to keep that arrogant smirk off of his face.

He’s practically in paradise, coming up with a mental list of creative ways to shut you up.

Still, Javi allows you to multitask: all the while, your fingers continue to explore the exposed parts of his cock. Only when he’s satisfied, when his length couldn’t possibly get any harder—only then does he free your mouth, letting his damp fingers trail down the side of your neck.

The feeling sends a shiver up your spine.

Without warning, he yanks down the straps of your dress and bra, pulling them all the way down until you’re postured on his lap, chest fully exposed; his abrupt movement has you loosing a stunned "Javi!" He runs his palms over the most sensitive peaks of your breasts, a hungry smile teasing the corners of his lips.

Then, he shrugs. “Told you last time I wanted to see them. Got the prettiest fuckin’ tits, hermosa.”

You don’t have time to roll your eyes, to laugh, or to really even register the vulgarity of his words, nor the taunting, degrading way they’re delivered to you. Javi’s already holding both you and himself up in one arm (and, oh, how you’d simply ached for the feel of his strength) pulling down the waistband of his pants. He maneuvers you into the proper position to receive him in, two pairs of downcast eyes watching his cock spring free, tip curving in, grazing against the fabric of his shirt.

He rushes, but it still feels torturously slow. You’re craving, needing, as he uses the dark head of his cock to ease your ruined underwear to the side, guiding himself towards your dripping opening.

This time, he’s far too impatient to make you beg for it.

Ecstasy forces your back into an arch as he pushes himself between your walls, as you feel him filling you up, up, and up—wordless mouth falling open, your heavy head collapses aaall the way back.

Immediately, a hand is at the back of your skull, forcing your gaze back downwards. “No, no, no, baby, you let me see—let me see you when you ride,” and his voice is a little strained, a little desire-stricken, a little bit softer as he settles his every last inch inside your cunt.

Your irises could be forest fires as you set your sights on his own, seeing nothing, absolutely nothing but Javier in that moment.

Moving your hips in tandem, you set your pace.

Mother Mary—it’s hard, so fucking hard to keep your legs steady when he stretches you open—wide fucking open—and as his head grazes that spongy spot inside.

He doesn’t help, either. In fact, while your hands dig anchors into his shoulders (sometimes his chest, his neck, his waist) just to keep yourself upright, his own are trailing up to the pocket of his shirt, pulling out a pack of smokes.

You mewl softly at the heat building inside your cunt, loosing an indignant whine as Javi neglects his responsibilities toward your climax.

“Gave me such a hard time today, baby,” he muses, placing a cigarette between his fingers and tossing the rest aside, “Wanna hear a fuckin’ ‘thank you Javi’ every time you come.”

His words dance around you like streetlights passing in the night, barely registering inside your disintegrating mind. How could they? With the feeling of his thighs grazing the undersides of your own, the buttons of his shirt nudging against your aching clit… how could anything else even exist?

All you can give him is an “Mhm.”

He pulls a lighter out, smirking. “‘Tough-talker ‘til this pussy’s all full, huh?”

“I-I’m sorry, baby, I’m s-sorry.”

And he laughs. “Don’t say it, cariño,” he takes your hand, placing the light inside your fist. “Fuckin’ show me.”

He rolls his hips. Your weight collapses against his chest.

“C’mon,” he coaxes, pushing you off, straightening you up before placing the cigarette between his lips, “Aaall you gotta do is light up the tip. You got it, sweetheart.”

His hands travel down to your ass, giving it a rough squeeze before his fingers splay out. He spreads you open over his thighs, watching the etchings of your lust corrupt your expression as he fucks himself—slow, deep, hard strokes—inside you.

“Fu—please, Javi—I can’t, s’too much, baby—please—”

A smile, full lips parting around the dart. “S’wrong, baby?” The words are low, breathy, teasing, contorting around the smoke in his mouth. “Can’t focus?”

God, just make him happy.

It’s the only thought you seem to be able to form. His request doesn’t seem to be up for debate, either.

So, summoning every last bit of control still lingering inside you, you bring a trembling hand up to the unlit end, a string of moans and ‘Javi’s rising from your throat.

And fuck, he’s beautiful, brimming with playful passion, orange filter hanging off those pretty pink lips.

Trying to still yourself, you flick the lighter on—the flame dances between you, illuminating the expansive darkness lurking inside his gaze. It takes everything, everything you have left to light it for him, to make that white tip glow red hot, to stay steady enough, to keep from burning him.

And also, to hold your pace. That grip of steel wrapped around your hip serves as a constant reminder—

Keep taking it.

In those final moments, he picks up his pace, of course. Your simmering blood bubbles to a boil, the flutters inside your cunt graduating into pulsing throbs.

As the flame finally takes, you feel every muscle inside your core tense—when Javi inhales his first drag, you straddle the precipice of your orgasm.

Your weight falls onto his shoulder. One of his arms reaches up to ash the cigarette; the other wraps tightly around you, bouncing you against him as exhales a cloud of smoke into your hair.

“Baby—Javi, I’m coming, I’m coming, I'm c—”

Heat builds between your thighs, and as that bundle of nerves grows heavy, pulsing with the rush of your orgasm, his thrusts only deepen.

He pulls you in close.

“I know, cariño,” Javi coos, condescending into the shell of your ear, basking in the feel of your cunt near-strangling him in adoration. “Can feel you, y’know? Got such a grateful lil' pussy,” he places a kiss to the side of your neck, groaning against the soft skin. “Always lets me know how much you love having my cock buried inside it.”

As he speaks, you try to catch your breath. To come down from your high.

It doesn’t work. Not while his hips continue to grind against yours, not while cradled between his arms like his holy beloved, and especially not with his tip still pressing against every available, wanting spot on your walls.

Javi takes another long drag from the dart. “What do you say when you come, baby?”

A big, laboured inhale, and the words come out in one, rushed exhalation. “Thank you, Javi.”

He responds with a downright cocky laugh. “You’re welcome, cariño. Good girl.”

The praise… it makes you melt.

Tangling his fingers in your hair, nails grazing the skin of your scalp, he pulls you off of his chest. Your heavy breaths mingle together in the stale heat of the Jeep Cherokee. 

You buck up, doing your best to keep pleasing him as he studies your devoted movements, as he leans back against the seat—groaning.

His hand—often glued to your rolling hip—provides you with only a mere hint of stability.

“That guy you were with,” he takes a drag from his cigarette, using his free hand to toy with one of your peaked nipples. “At the bar. You’d’ve done this for him?”

Your lips part, but no sound crosses the threshold of your lips. You’re dazed—still coming—and building to yet another peak. His unwillingness to move starts to ground you; the long length of every hard muscle beneath his arms, the round, bulging ridges of his shoulders… they become your salvation, places to lay your weight into. Riding him becomes second nature: you’re attuned to his rhythm and the desperate, commanding desires of your body.

Suddenly, you’re a part of him; when he exhales, the smoke creeps out of his lungs and into your own.

You burn right along with it.

He drops the still-smoking cigarette onto the seat next to your entangled bodies, bringing both his hands to rest against your dampened skin. One comes down hard, delivering a quick, harsh slap to your ass.

It would leave a mark.

“Tell me. Use that pretty mouth, hermosa. ‘Know you know how—used it—ran it all fuckin’ day.” Javi grunts, angling to bend over you, pushing into your guts as he wraps you in his arms, finally taking the burden of your weight off of your scraped up, wobbling knees. He continues on, “Tonight, too—been so easy, baby, lettin’ me put anything I want in there like a good lil' slut,” drinking in your cry of pleasure. He almost says it to himself, eyebrows furrowing as he reminisces, as your cunt begins to throb around his hardening cock once more. “You'd've done that for him, cariño?”

You swallow, trying to clear the stars dancing before your eyes, and that fuzzy sound of static. It muffles the symphony of Javi’s hoarse breaths, your own, helpless cries, and the filthy sound of skin colliding with—grinding against—skin.

He quickens, now, using you like a damn toy. Every rough thrust brings you closer to heaven; every ardent, breathtaking squeeze of his arms around your middle feels like angels sighing.

“No,” you breathe, closing your eyes. Your arms cling around his neck, fingers fanning through his thick hair—everything is him, him, him. He leans forward again, ducking down to kiss the hollow of your throat; you pull him in faithfully, moaning softly at the feel of his lips, his teeth under the valley under your jaw. “Only you.” It sounds like worship, sliding up an octave as that low ache worsens, as he compells a second climax out of your already-quivering body. “Only you, Javi.”

He growls, lips dragging up to your ear as the hairs of his mustache tease your cheekbone. “Prove it,” he breathes, deep thrusts growing even more erratic— needier, sloppier. You can barely hear him over your own noises, but he continues his gravelly coos inside your ear nonetheless. “Gimme another one, baby—wanna feel you comin' on my cock when I fill you up so fuckin' full, baby—show me that you’re mine—z’this pussy mine, hermosa?”

“Yesyesyes—oh God, y-yes—m’yours, Javi, y—”

Your legs seize as yet another release tears through your body. The skin of his neck anchors you in place, and you hang off of him like a rosary, digging your fingernails into the warmth of his flesh with every ounce of strength at your disposal.

He fucks you through your second climax, headed straight for his own.

“S-such a good girl, cariño—f-fuck—” Arms, wrapped around your waist, tighten enough to snap you in two as Javi crushes you against his chest, using the momentum of your entire, shaking body to finish himself off. He comes with a grunted “s-shit”—and you pay attention, wanting to commit the divine sound to memory. Swelling between your silken walls, Javi spills everything he could possibly give inside you.

A final, abrupt thrust, married with the non-stop, involuntary clench-and-release of your cunt works to cover every square inch of you with him.

When it’s over, the man refuses to let you part from him (not that you had any real desire to do so, anyway). A big, shaking hand keeps your head cradled in the firm crook of his neck, and he slowly, slowly  softens inside you. He basks in the final, weak flutters of your cunt as you lose yourself in the smell of his cologne.

His heart hammers in his chest. You can hear it with your ear pressed to his neck. Going limp, your damp forehead rolls onto the hard roundness of his shoulder.

That aching, sore opening soaks the skin of his thighs. You shiver softly, dripping onto the base of his shaft.

“Say it, cariño,” Javi murmurs, laying a rough kiss to your temple. He runs his hands up and down your bare spine, fingers dancing along your sticky skin.

You loose a breathy laugh against his golden skin. “Thank you, Javi.”

And you pull back just in time to catch his genuine smile.

It fucking melts you. Adoration, pride… spreading like tree-roots under rich, forest soil throughout your still-heaving chest.

He rubs the pads of his thumbs under your eyes, wiping clean some of the going-out makeup that had no-doubt become a total, leaking mess.

“‘Pretty when you’re nice, y'know,” he mutters, moving to cup your cheeks between his warm, hardened palms. And then he pauses, reconsidering his words. “But fuckin’ hot when you’re mean.”

A breathy giggle. “What can I say,” you whisper, trailing a few appreciative fingers up and down his forearms. “You bring out the very best in me, Peña.”

He scoffs, but smiles all the while.

Off in the distance, there’s music. Sounds of debauchery and excitement travel through the warm summer air, audible even through the closed windows. The night is alive for the rest of the city; somewhere far, far away, an engine growls, rubber tires squealing against the pull of hard pavement.

It takes him away.

Javi grasps your shoulders, pushing you up and back to effectively slide you off of his half-soft length. “I’ll wait for you to get inside,” he says, yanking his pants back up over his hips, tucking himself back into his briefs. “Make sure you lock the door, alright?”

Pause. 

What?

“You’re leaving?” You mirror him, hastily rearranging yourself—skinny straps find their way back above your shoulders, your short dress finds itself yanked down to its rightful place.

It’s awkward work, given the confines of the space.

The agent slips out from underneath you. He opens the door, rising from the backseat and straightening up with a groan. “Think I know where he was going,” he responds, mostly to himself. “I’m only, what…” a flip of his wrist as he checks the time, “Thiiiiiirty? Thirty-five minutes behind him?”

Before you know it, you’re bristling with irritation.

Again.

You throw your heels down on the street, unceremoniously shoving a cramping foot in each one. “Don’t be an idiot, Peña,” and you try your hand at standing, buckling slightly on a pair of Jell-o legs.

He comes around to your side, steadying you on your feet. Reflected in his deep-brown eyes is the same annoyance flashing across your own gaze. “D’you just expect me to be there, sweetheart? Z’that it? Every time your ass needs saving?”

Shame heats the soft skin of your cheeks. Your eyes trail down to the ground, volatile, incomprehensible emotions building with every passing second.

“It won’t happen again—I won’t-I won’t be so stupid, or-or—I won’t go out, anymore.”

He scoffs. “Yeah, well, that’s nice 'n all, but it’s sure as shit not gonna change anything.”

When you don’t respond, when you don’t look up, his edges soften. “They went to your house, sweetheart.” With his hands on your shoulders, he implores you to see sense. “It’s either we get them or they… get you.”

You exhale, hard. “You’re being dramatic.”

That does it for him.

After an exasperated shake of his head, he’s grabbing your hands in his own, placing a set of keys in the cradle of your palm.

His tone is low, demanding, unbending. “Lock the doors.”

Then, he’s turning to leave, walking to the front of the Cherokee.

Before rounding the corner, he turns his hardened profile to the side. The glare of the building’s lights dance on his tanned skin, turning the whole scene into a sort of lucid dream.

“Y’know, you’re really starting to piss me off with this whole… utopian fantasy you’re livin’ in.” He barely even addresses you, mumbling the rest of his sentiment mostly to himself. “I’m fuckin’ tired of being the only one looking out for you.”

Utopian fantasy?

You try to dismiss him—to call him ridiculous, to throw yourself into the familiar task of poking holes in his arguments—but… you can’t. Over and over, his words rush you in waves: “the only one looking out for you” “utopian fantasy” “the only one looking out for you” “utopian—”

Suddenly, you’re on a different street. In the same clothes, and in the same body, but somewhere far, far away, facing a different man. It’s somewhere very loud, where tires and knees come to a screeching stop against cement, where the downbeat of every Latin measure is punctuated by the sound of a bullet, inscribed with your initials, ripping through the static summer air.

Panic hits you like a bolt of lightning.

It doesn’t go away, either.

Not even once you’re back on Javi’s street, fossilized in amber, watching him move to the driver’s side of his Jeep.

All the fear you hadn’t allowed yourself to feel…

You’d forced him to shoulder it for you, instead.

But, inevitably, what goes around comes around. And he’s dropped your burden right back onto you with a few well-timed words.

Truth bares itself to you, settling heavy atop your bones like an ancient, primal wound. The result is a pair of unsteady legs, a perennial tremor in both, white-knuckled hands, and a crackling voice, resisting use.

“Javi…”

Only when you hear the sound of your own terror echoed back to you do you permit yourself to cry.

And there you stand. Disheveled, confused, broken—clothing misplaced, ruined, broken—

And you just don’t want him to leave.

Not now.

Not when you need him.

Not when you need someone.

Not when you think you’ve finally got it figured out, and especially not when you’re so damn close to speaking it into existence.

Realization. Acknowledgement. Expression.

It’s not a customary pattern, in your experience.

Javi stops in his tracks, stunned to a halt at the sheer emotion in your plea.

It stings when you clear your throat. “I just…” and you falter, strange, unfamiliar words sticking to your throat, sickly-sweet dried honey. Each vowel reverberates back to you, amplified by the acoustics of the empty street and their novelty.

Still, you’re not quite sure how he’s able to hear you, given that you can only bring yourself to speak a handful of decibels above a damn whisper.

“I’ve just never been important, Peña.”

You wipe a self-conscious hand across your face, clearing the sea-salt from below your downcast eyes.

Before you’re able to put a stop to it—it all comes rushing out. Averting his gaze, you ramble on in agitation.

“Not beyond being a-a pair of hands to make fucking photocopies—or as the butt of some sort of “prissy receptionist” joke or even just as some—as-as a kind of fucking challenge to men—men like you, Javier—because I… well, because I’m mean, and I-I guess it’s just fun for everyone to see how far they can take it before—before I…” You give your head a fervent shake, trying to reel yourself back in, trying to close off the monologue.

But the cracks had formed, and with nowhere to go, the mounting pressure of the seven seas washes away the rest of your weakened dam.

The agent can't even get a word in.

“Anyways, that’s-that's not the point. The point is that it just… it didn’t seem possible that anyone in this whole fucking country would even think twice about me—even if it was just to… to kill me…”

A lump forms, lodging behind your larynx.

You start to rush.

“So I really am sorry that I acted like such an asshole, but none of this makes a fucking lick of sense to me—I’m-I’m a secretary, for fuck’s sakes—I’m nothing, no one, I’m not—” and then you’re frantic—

The gunshots, the tires, the music, the spark plug, a Camino—

“Just please, don’t go, don’t—I-I know you’re mad, just—please, just don��t—”

It’s impossible to catch your breath. Every heaved sob racks your lungs, shaking you all the way down to your buckling knees.

You want to turn, to run and hide, to fling yourself into oncoming traffic—anything to end the interminable humiliation you couldn’t seem to keep from putting on display in front of Javier Peña.

And shit. No man could see a woman in the same way after this. No man would care for a woman like this, destroyed and pathetic and—

“Oh, cariño—”

And he’s there.

Those arms—so used to taking—they wrap you up, pulling you into the heat of his body, protecting you from the pointed echoes of laughter and song breezing through the night air. Those hands, the ones that bruised, slapped, grabbed—they hold—the right unburdens you of your oppressive weight, pressed flat against the small of your back. His left cradles the back of your head, laying your temple to the side of his throat.

“You’ve always been important to me, sweetheart.”

His soft murmurs tumble down your spine. That smoky breath envelops you; it reminds you of those blankets in the movies—the ones that the firemen hand out after the disaster’s over, the survivors rescued. In the denouement.

“S’okay, S’okay. I’m sorry, baby, alright? I’m not mad, cariño, it’s okay.”

Running his fingers through your hair, supporting your head like a delicate, sacred object, murmuring comforts against the softest parts of your neck—Javi goes on and on. Despite the frequent shifts between Spanish and English, you manage to catch the main gist of his crooning.

“I could never be mad at you, baby.”

“It’s okay.”

“I’m not mad, cariño.”

“And I’m sorry, baby.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not mad.”

“I’ll stay.”

“I’m sorry.”

After an eternity, you feel calm enough to pull away. You’re a wreck, gazing up at him with big, silver-lined eyes.

And it’s then that you see him.

That you really see him.

The concern, the anguish, the affection… You’d punished him for doing the very thing that you were incapable of doing.

Protecting you.

Caring for you.

As tears continue to leak from your eyes, you take note of his beauty. Not just of his looks, but also in the sheer power radiating from him, towering like a knight over you. In those capable, caring hands—hands that had torn others apart, that had put you back together—there was beauty in them, too.

You wipe your face dry.

And you soften your tone, aiming to lighten the mood. “Stop trying to get in my pants, Peña." A sniffle. "I don’t sleep with cops.”

He rolls his eyes, the ghosts of a smile tugging at his lips. “Y’know,” he cups your face, drying the final, lingering remnants of your melt-down off your cheeks, “I waited outside that fuckin’ bar for hours  tonight. Just in case.”

Oh.

God, you’d never even bothered to think about how he’d gotten to you so quickly.

Of course he’d been there.

That truth feels… warm.

He goes on. “Watched you… saw you with that guy.” He scoffs at himself, shaking his head. “Had to look away when you came outside. S’why it… took a minute. To get there.”

That has your gaze trailing off, eyes cast down in shame, studying the worn-in rubber on the Jeep’s tires.

It would have never worked, anyway. There wasn’t a man on Earth who could ween your mind off of this one.

With the pad of his thumb against your chin, he brings you back to him. Javi commands your full attention with the just the sincerity of his stare.

“Even when you want nothin’ to do with me... I’m there, alright? I’m here, baby.”

Those eyes… softened with affection, hardened with conviction. Javier always had a way of straddling both worlds at once.

He waits for your signal, your quick nod of acknowledgement.

Then, he’s kissing you—softly. Fingers curling around his forearms, you borrow his strength to keep yourself from swooning. He holds your face as tenderly as he caresses your lips, and with every synced inhalation, he speaks yet another unspoken word into existence.

After giving you enough to make you feel whole again, he pulls away.

With his great-big-palm to your cheek, he says everything you need to hear.

“Let’s go inside, sweetheart.”

—

part 3

—

TAGLIST: @millllenniawrites @pining-and-tired @inkedells @stardust-chords-enthusiast @mattmurdocksgirlfriend @bookofbee @liviloo12346 @anyas-stuff @readingsunshine97 @maudlinflowers @sullysflm @sexygaypalpatine @livyjh @s-unflowxr @lostsoldieronahill @chapterhappygirl @raeluvshammett @silkiers @jupitersmood @supernaturaldean67 @razrsharpwhiteteeth @peqchsoup @corrodedcherries @hawsx3 @monboudoir @theonewithacrush @pono-pura-vida @totallynotastanacc @dzaga890 @swedishscumfuck @killerrxger @niallsbunny @cilliansangel @snowyarcher @grnherbs @mswarriorbabe80 @tercabed @sweettea-and-honeybutter @julesonrecord @bbyanarchist @thisgirl-knm @pedrit0-pascalit0 @princessdjarin @isitselfishifwetalkaboutmeagain @pseudonymist @goldengrapejuice @soullumii @jazzerbelle14

—

Officer Officer Everybody knows that I'm a good girl, officer No, I wouldn't do a thing like that, that's for sure The house was already on fire, I swear I'm not a liar (Well) I'm a little shaken, but I'm fine, thanks for asking Tell me, do you always work alone so late? Gosh, I'm a little shy standing here in my night gown Do you really have to put those tight handcuffs on?

Looking at me, then suddenly

I'm in love, I'm in love Love in a hurricane I'm in love, I'm in love Love in a hurricane

I've been bad, I've been wrong Playing a dangerous game I'm in love, I'm in love Love in a hurricane, hurricane, hurricane

Let's get in the back of your cop car, officer You can ask me anything you want Anything, anything

Do you have a girl? I don't see a ring on your finger Well, that's interesting Have you ever thought of dating a singer?

The flames are getting higher So is my desire It's kind of exciting Don't you think?

Then suddenly he's uncuffing me

I'm in love, I'm in love Love in a hurricane I'm in love, I'm in love Love in a hurricane

I've been bad, I've been wrong Playing a dangerous game I'm in love, I'm in love Love in a hurricane, hurricane, hurricane

Love, I'm in love Love in a hurricane I'm in love, I'm in love Love in a hurricane I can be the bad girl I'm getting you so hot You can be the good guy Tell him please stop

Love, I'm in love Love in a hurricane

You can be the good guy (Officer) I'm in love Tell him please Stop (Officer) (Officer) You can be the good good (Officer) I'm in love Love in a hurricane

—

[joelscruff]

ummm hi this is so random i just needed to tell someone about this cause no one i know likes pedro

so i was watching s1 narcos and javi was wearing this fkn white half sleeved shirt and they knew what they were fucking doing and i’m dying he’s so fkn hot what do i do!!, if i was interning for him and he walked in the room wearing that oh my fkn god i would be dead sorry for this rant

soaked (javier peña x f!reader) 18+

so as usual what was meant to be a little drabble became a full-fledged fic. what is wrong with me????? this outfit is truly insane though and i couldn't stop thinking about it getting wet 👀 i hope you enjoy xo (and thank you anon for the inspo and for telling me what episode this lovely shirt was in!) summary: it's hard being an intern for a man who won't even look at you, but maybe there's something else to it that you don't see. rating: 18+ explicit warnings: smut, blowjobs, deepthroating, protected p in v sex, praise kink, dirty talk, size kink (javi has a big dick), biting, probably bad spanish (blame google) word count: 6k (this was supposed to be a drabble!!!!!!! wtf!!!!!!!!) ao3

You're pretty sure you're going to quit your job.

You've been an intern at the DEA for about a month now, in charge of extremely mundane things like pouring coffee and organizing paperwork. No one really talks to you other than Steve Murphy, one of the agents you're assigned to, and even then he's too busy to really give you much attention. It's lonely and boring, and part of you thinks you might have quit already, if it wasn't for...

"Morning, asshole," Javier Peña enters the office with long strides, tossing a stack of papers toward your (very tiny) desk. You can't help but stare at him, swallowing nervously as you assess the plain white shirt he's wearing, loosely tucked into his tight jeans and accentuating his strong, tan arms. How does he always look so good? His hair is messy, brown curls tangled and sticking up in places like he's just rolled out of bed, and he probably has. The faint scent of whisky that follows him tells you all you need to know about how he spent his evening.

You're worried for only half a second that he's talking to you, but you realize his gaze is directed toward Steve, who simply shrugs.

"You didn't have to come," he replies with a laugh, "You coulda said no."

"To your fucking wife? Please." Javier sits down in his chair with force, leaning back to immediately put his long legs up on his desk and reach for a cigarette from his pocket, "She was excited about it, you dick."

Steve just laughs again, turning back to his work, "You did the right thing, man. I don't know what else to say."

You wish you understood the story, knew what they were playfully ribbing each other about, but for the past month you've been on the outside of their relationship. Steve gives you reassuring smiles and some small talk every now and then but it's not enough to feel like you actually belong there, not to mention that Javier has only spoken to you once. Even now, as you rise from your chair to pour some fresh coffee into his mug, he doesn't even look at you.

"You owe me," he says to Steve, lighting up his cig, "Pendejo."

As you pour his coffee you can't help but notice the way the collar of his shirt rides low enough for you to see his collarbones, see the light dusting of hair smattered across his dark skin. There's a few droplets of sweat here and there, and you resist the urge to lean forward and press your tongue to each one.

"I'll have some more too, sweetheart," Steve says behind you, and your thoughts scatter as you pull back from Javier's mug to go re-fill Steve's. You're aware of the way Steve's eyes trail to your breasts, hidden only by a thin layer of blue fabric; it makes you self conscious and also a bit confused. Steve has never looked at you that way before, "That's a nice blouse," he says to you with a smile, eyes going back up to your face, "My wife has one similar to that."

"Thank you," you say quietly, finishing filling up his mug and wanting to go back over to your desk as soon as possible; you don't like the idea of a married man ogling you.

"Isn't this a nice blouse, Javi?" Steve continues, and you freeze.

What is Steve doing? Is he trying to get you insulted? You turn slightly to look at Javier, coffee pot trembling slightly in your hand when you see that he's got an irritated expression painting his face, mouth downturned in a stern frown.

"Thin ice, Steve," Javier replies and takes another drag from his cigarette, his eyes set firmly on Steve's face, not even bothering to even look at the blouse in question.

"What? It's nice," Steve seems to be feigning innocence, yet again another inside joke you're not apart of. Except this time it's at your expense and you're not sure how that makes you feel. Suddenly Steve reaches up and takes a ruffle of your blouse near your arm between his fingers, "Really soft, too."

"Steve," Javier repeats, eyes dark, "Thin. Ice."

You look from Javier to Steve and back to Javier, absolutely bewildered. It's like things are being said but you can't hear them, have no idea what kind of secret language they're speaking. You pull away from Steve a bit, feeling uncomfortable.

"I'm gonna go put this back," you say quietly, referring to the coffee pot.

"Of course, sweetheart, I won't keep you," Steve gives you a wink and you know something is off. From what you've gathered so far from your time here, Steve loves his wife, has a picture of her on his desk right in front of him that you always catch him looking at. You've only been here a month but you swear he's mentioned her every single day, if not to you then to Javier, if not to Javier then to another intern or agent. So why is he suddenly being flirtatious with you?

You leave the room and return the coffee pot, staring at the aged tiles on the wall in front of you and feeling a lump form in your throat. You really do hate it here, you don't know why you've stayed as long as you have.

Yes you do, you idiot.

--

It's raining outside by the time your work day ends and you feel yourself deflate as you walk out the front doors of the DEA; you'd been hoping for the hot weather to continue so you could go for a run and distract yourself from this weird and uncomfortable day, decide whether or not you're going to just quit already. It's like the heavy rainfall is mocking you.

You feel much too depressed to walk home so you go back inside the building and make your way back to the office to call a taxi. Steve passes you in the hallway and slows down, puts his hand up to stop you.

"Hey, I'm sorry for this morning," he says, eyes kind and gentle, "That was inappropriate, I shouldn't have touched your blouse."

You're not sure what to say, giving him a small shrug, "It's, uh, okay. I was just..." you shake your head, "Yeah, never mind, it's okay."

"You're wondering why I did it." he states, frowning, and you almost laugh at his immediate assessment of the situation; deflecting a DEA agent? Not the smartest idea.

"Well, yeah," you shrug, "It was kinda weird. You're usually, um... very respectful so-"

He winces, "I know, I'm sorry. It was just me trying to get on Peña's nerves," he shuffles awkwardly in front of you, shifting the weight from his left leg to his right and back again, "He'd kill me if he knew I was telling you this, but I owe him."

You look at him in total confusion, shaking your head, "I don't understand."

He chuckles, shaking his head, "I know, I'm just trying to figure out how to word it," he bites his lip and then seems to resign himself to something, "Javier... he likes you."

You stare.

"My wife and I, we kind of wrangled him into having dinner with us last night. They were talking, she was askin' him about women, if he'd been on any dates, typical questions," he laughs at the memory, "He said no and she asked if he had his eye on anyone. He said no again, but I know this guy like the back of my hand, I can read him like a book. I knew that second no was a goddamn lie."

Your heart is pounding in your chest but your thoughts are muddled, unable to draw a clear conclusion from what Steve is telling you. You continue to just stand there wordlessly, listening.

"A few drinks later - well, more than a few - I asked him who he had his eye on. You wouldn't believe how easy it was to get it out of him, he just smiled, took a drag of his cig..." Steve acts this out, bringing his cigarette-less fingers to his lips and pretending to take a puff, eyes heavy-lidded and bleary, "And said your name."

You can't believe what you're hearing, there's no way it's true, no way he's telling you about something that actually happened. Your heart continues to pound relentlessly, staring at Steve like he's speaking another language, a million wordless questions flying back and forth in your mind at top speed.

"She's the most beautiful creature I ever saw," he quotes, voice slurred and gravelly, "She's sunshine incarnate."

"But he doesn't even look at me!" you blurt out, eyes wide.

Steve drops his hand and laughs again, shaking his head, "Sweetheart, he looks at you all the time. You're just looking away when he does it."

This revelation hits you hard, makes your breath catch in your throat. Is this actually true? Or is this some sick inside joke they're playing to get you to finally put in your notice, one of their private little games that you're not a part of. On principle it's the most ridiculous thing you've ever heard; the man has spoken to you once, only once, and it was on your first day. He'd introduced himself, shook your hand, and that was that.

"What do you mean you're doing this because you owe him?" you ask, shaking the thoughts away, "Isn't this just humiliating him?"

Steve smiles again, slightly smug, "I see the way you look at him too, you know. I'm not blind," he looks at his watch then and makes a face, "Listen, I gotta go, but if you're heading back to the office, he's still there."

"But, Steve, I-"

"Trust me," he gives you one of his reassuring smiles, "He needs - scratch that - wants someone like you, someone... stable."

You don't think being on the verge of quitting a paid internship would be considered stable, but you understand what he means. You may have only been here a short time but Javier's reputation is widely known around the office, something you've found yourself sympathizing with instead of villainizing him like others do. You know his history with women is pretty bleak relationship wise.

Steve begins to walk away from you, leaving you standing there speechless, "You better hurry before he leaves," he calls. He picks up his pace but you're still able to hear him as he mutters, "and that's my good deed done," then saunters down the hall and disappears around the corner.

--

The office you share with Javier and Steve is the only one still lit on your floor, meaning everyone else has already gone home. You know that Javier likes to stay late sometimes, work on the case alone and look at things from different angles in solitude. You feel nervous as you approach the door, not wanting to bother him. But regardless of whether what Steve said is true, you still need to call a taxi.

You turn the knob and walk inside, trying to be as quiet and slow as possible. Your efforts are pointless though, as Javier looks up from his work and sees you immediately, his eyebrows going up in surprise.

"It's raining," you say softly, awkwardly, "I need to call a cab."

"Right," he nods to you and then returns to his work without an afterthought, writing something down on a piece of paper.

You stand there for a few moments just looking at him, watching his face, trying to find any indication of affection behind those focused eyes, his serious brow. He looks the same as always, lost in thought, scribbling away, handsome as he does it. The white shirt certainly isn't helping; he's unbuttoned it more now, his chest exposed and sunglasses hanging from a button near his pocket. He's so effortlessly gorgeous, it makes you ache.

He must sense you still standing there, not making any move to walk to your desk and pick up the phone. He looks up at you again, brow furrowed, "Do you need something?"

You shake your head quickly, cheeks burning, "N-no, sorry," you shuffle over to your desk and sit down in your chair, doing everything you can to avoid looking over at him again. You think about what Steve said, how Javier is always looking at you but only when you're not aware. You wonder if he's doing it right now.

You reach for the phone, unable to stop your hands from shaking slightly. You're almost sure you feel his gaze on you now, boring into you and watching every move you make, eyes deep and brown and calculating, always calculating. Assessing. What does he make of you? If what Steve said is true, what does he see when he looks at you?

Sunshine incarnate.

You can't help but smile at the words, dialing the number for the taxi slowly as your brain repeats them over and over. Had he really said that about you? And meant it? Your thoughts are so jumbled that you accidentally press the wrong button and have to start over, hanging up the phone quickly before picking it up again.

Just as you go to press the first number, a hand comes down and stops you, brushing against your fingers in a tender and gentle way. You freeze, staring at the hand, knowing it's his, knowing that if he wasn't looking at you before, he certainly is now.

"Why don't I just give you a ride, cariño?" he asks quietly, voice slightly rough around the edges, "I'm heading home now anyway."

You will yourself to look up, eyes capturing his immediately and getting lost in their depths, big and brown and soft and searching. Your lips part but no words come out. You force yourself to give him a nod, repressing the urge to jump up and kiss his mouth, envelop him, hold him close and look even deeper into those soulful eyes.

You stand shakily and walk to the door, feeling his eyes on your back as he follows behind you. The walk down to the main doors of the building is completely silent, save for the clicking of your heels against the linoleum and his heavy masculine breaths at your side. It's still raining once you get outside, and you can't help but make a face.

"Not a fan of the rain?" he asks you a bit loudly over the pelting of water against the concrete, a smile tugging at his lips.

"It's not my favorite," you admit, wincing, "Where are you parked?"

"You stay here where it's dry, I'll pull it up front."

You watch him dart out from under the eaves of the building, rain immediately soaking his white shirt without apology. You watch with wide eyes as his back becomes visible from the downpour, skin a pinkish brown beneath the suddenly translucent material. You catch sight of two dimples near his lower back before he disappears from eyesight.

You swallow, trying to pretend you don't feel yourself begin to throb within the confines of your underwear, a wetness pooling between your legs that has nothing to do with the rain.

Only a few moments later he's pulling up front, waving at you from behind the car window. You dash forward and feel the rain soak your hair, your skin, your blouse. There was nothing about rain in the forecast this morning so you hadn't thought to bring a jacket with you; you're now regretting that decision greatly.

The passenger side door is already unlocked and you slip inside gratefully, slamming it behind you and exhaling loudly. The rain continues to pelt the windows, the roof, a steady and repetitive sound as you look down at yourself to assess the damage. At least you chose a blue blouse and not a white one, although you can faintly see the shape of your nipples poking through the fabric. A bit self conscious, you cross your arms and huddle forward in the seat.

"Should heat up soon," Javier says beside you, quiet like he'd been in the office, "Seatbelt."

You glance over at him for only a second but regret it instantly, immediately noticing the way the rain has completely soaked his white shirt, exposing the taut and firm muscle beneath, his wide pecs, dark nipples, his flat stomach and belly button, the trail of hair that leads down to...

You grip the seatbelt in your hands and turn your attention to clicking it into place, feeling yourself throb even more. God, he's so fucking hot. You can't blame all the women he's slept with for wanting to get in his pants, he's a fucking Adonis. You take a few deep breaths as he pulls away from the building, focusing on the small bursts of heat that are beginning to radiate from the vents in front of you. You rub your hands together, momentarily forgetting that he could probably see your breasts through your blouse if he looked over.

But that's just it...you never know when he's looking at you. And part of you wonders what would be so bad about him seeing you like this.

You drive together in silence for a few moments, an undeniable tension building and building the longer you both sit there without speaking. Every so often you can't help but let your eyes trail back over to his body, eyeing the way his wet shirt clings to his skin, beginning to slowly dry in small patches from the car heater. You can vaguely make out the shape of a scar on his abdomen and you find yourself wanting to reach out and trace your finger along the length of it, ask him how he got it, kiss it better.

"I feel you watching me, querida," he murmurs, eyes on the road.

Your eyes widen and you sit back in your seat stiffly, "S-sorry."

In your peripheral vision you see him smile, thumbing the steering wheel, "You're always watching me, aren't you?"

You don't know what to say, swallowing tightly around the lump you feel building in your throat. Is he about to call you out? Tell you to stop?

"That's okay, I'm always watching you too," he says it quietly like it's a secret, taking a heavy breath as he continues, "But you know that now, don't you? Steve's a little shit."

You can't help but laugh, which makes him grin wider. He looks over at you and you meet his gaze, feeling shy when his eyes drop to your chest and back up again.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of you," he murmurs, eyes back on the road, "I'll be real gentle, I promise."

You stare at him, slightly confused. It's only a moment later that it dawns on you: you never told him your address.

"Where are we going?" you ask quietly, voice shaking slightly in anticipation.

He gives you another side glance, smiling kindly at you, "I think you already know, cariño."

--

No more than twenty minutes later he has you laid out on his bed completely bare, his mouth pressed firmly against your wet core as you writhe and moan under his touch. His palms are pressed flush against your stomach, holding you to the mattress, never releasing you even when you start shaking uncontrollably from your orgasm. He just keeps going, sucking on your clit and fingering your throbbing hole, nose buried in the patch of hair on your mound.

"Javi, Javi, Javi," you repeat over and over again, thrashing in his sheets, fisting the duvet. He'd told you as soon as he had you in his bed that he didn't want you calling him Javier anymore, and you'd had absolutely no problem with amending your vocabulary.

He hums, giving your clit one last hard suck and making you almost scream with overstimulation, body heaving up off the mattress as he finally pulls away from your core and looks up at you with those big brown eyes.

"That's it, querida, feels so good, doesn't it?" he breathes, crawling back up and pressing kisses against your skin as you come down from the pleasure, heart pounding in your chest, "Your little pussy needed me so bad, didn't she?"

"Yes," you whimper, voice weak, unable to say anything else as he continues to kiss along your breasts, your neck, your cheeks. His mustache is soft and welcoming against your skin, tickling every inch of it in the best way possible as he worships you.

You can't believe you're even here, lying in his bed, lights dim as the rain continues to pelt the windows and drench the city while Javier drenches you. He's still wearing the white shirt, still damp and tucked into his jeans. You reach forward and pull at his belt, fingers trembling.

"Oh, cariño," he coos, kissing the corner of your mouth hungrily, "Want my cock now, do you? Thought that might have been too much for you."

You shake your head quickly, feeling tears sting in your eyes at the thought of him not giving you what you want, "Please," you whisper, voice breaking, "Please, Javi. I need it so bad."

"You do," he agrees, hands trailing upward to squeeze your breasts, thumbing your hard nipples, "You need to get fucked, knew it from the moment I met you. Knew it had to be me to do it."

"Why didn't you say anything?" you ask, voice breathless as he begins to undo his belt, "Why didn't you talk to me?"

"Because you're so pretty, hermosa, so pure," he tosses his belt to the ground and reaches for the hem of his shirt, yanking it over his head. Your eyes fall to his bare chest, his stomach, so much clearer now than they'd been through the wet fabric. He's absolutely perfect, and you feel yourself salivate as you reach up to palm the soft skin of his belly, feeling the hair under your fingertips, tracing the scar you'd seen earlier. He grabs your hand gently, squeezes it, "I knew if I talked to you, you'd end up right here. In my bed."

"And that would be a bad thing?" you whisper, eyes searching his, "This is bad?"

He shakes his head quickly, unbuttoning his jeans, "No, querida, this isn't bad. This is what you need, I know that now," he unzips himself and your jaw goes slack when you see that he isn't wearing any underwear, his cock completely bare and on display beneath the denim. He pulls himself out, showing you how long and thick he is, cut and curved, leaking from the tip. Some of it drips onto your tummy and you both watch it dribble down your skin, dipping into your belly button, "You need it," he whispers, "Knew it when you started looking at me like that."

"Like what?" you breathe, still staring at his large cock, wondering how it'll possibly fit inside you without splitting you in half.

"Like the way you're looking at my cock right now," he says softly, shuffling forward a bit on the bed, "Now, sit up, okay? Give it a kiss."

You don't need telling twice, scrambling amongst the sheets and crouching forward to envelop the head of his cock inside your mouth, warm and sticky on your tongue. You close your eyes, feeling them almost roll back in your head as you suck gently and swallow down his precome, tickling the back of your throat.

"Gonna see how much you can take, okay?" he says quietly above you, and you feel his hands in your hair, stroking your scalp reassuringly, "You can stop if it's too much."

You slowly move forward to take a few more inches, eyes still closed, only opening again when you feel his hands grip your hair tighter. You look up then, eyes lidded and heavy, and he's looking down at you like you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

"Such a pretty mouth," he murmurs, thumbing the base of your neck, "Just made to have my cock in there, huh?"

You nod slowly, breathing through your nose and pushing yourself further, wanting to take as much of him as you possibly can. You get about three quarters down and feel the tip prod the back of your throat. You still, inhaling deeply and feeling tears well in your eyes, silently begging yourself not to gag.

"Just a little more, querida," he whispers, stroking your hair, "You can do it, I know you can."

With his soothing encouragement you slowly take the rest of him, not stopping until your nose is buried in his pubic hair. You inhale again and your senses are overwhelmed by his masculine, sweaty, musky scent. It's heaven. You open your eyes and look up at him, tears welling over and spilling down your cheeks.

"Oh, baby," he says, biting back a moan, "That's so good, knew you could do it," he feels you trembling on his cock, throat closing around the head, and he carefully slides you off.

You start coughing immediately, drool running down your chin in long ropes. You'd feel embarrassed but he's smiling at you, leaning down to press kisses to your forehead.

"You did so good," he praises, wiping your chin with his thumb and kissing your lips tenderly, tasting himself on your tongue, "Took all of it so well, querida."

"I can do it again," you say quickly through another cough, voice rough, "Just gimme a second."

He smiles wider and shakes his head, "I know you can, but you don't need to, not tonight. Just wanted to see if you could take the whole thing in that pretty mouth," he thumbs your lips and you immediately capture it between them, sucking his thumb feverishly. He groans slightly, watching it disappear, "and now that I know you can... we need to see how well it fits inside that perfect little pussy, hm? Think it'll fit?"

You nod immediately, releasing his thumb with a pop, "I'll make it fit."

He groans again, getting off the bed and pulling his jeans down his legs, "That's what I like to hear, baby." He pulls open his bedside table and grabs a condom, tossing it over to you, "Now put that on my dick, cariño, gotta be safe."

You shuffle to the edge of the bed, ripping the condom open with your teeth and sliding it down his length. You feel his eyes on you now; you'd never been able to feel it before, had no idea he'd even been looking at you, and now it's like his gaze is burning your skin. You lean forward and press one more kiss to the head of his cock, smirking when it twitches.

"Come here, hermosa," he mutters, taking your hand and carefully pulling you off the bed. You both stand there naked in front of each other as he leans down to kiss you tenderly, hand trailing up to press flush against your back. He's so beyond everything you could have ever hoped for; you still can't believe this is actually happening, "Stay there for a second," he whispers.

You watch as he gets on the bed and sits at the top, back leaning against the headboard. His cock stands stiff and inviting beneath him as he splays his legs out and opens his arms.

"Sit on my cock, querida," he breathes, and without any hesitation you climb into his lap, legs shaking as you grip his shoulders and hover above him, "Nice and slow," he whispers, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips, "That's it."

The tip of his cock breaches your entrance and you keen at the sensation, still shaking slightly as you slowly ease yourself down on him. You're so wet, his length slipping inside easily at first, but once you get about halfway down your hips stutter and you whimper.

"You got it, baby," he breathes, thumbs splayed across your belly, "Not much more," he pushes inside a bit further and you cry out in ecstasy, burying your face in his shoulder. His hands move to your back, holding you tightly against him as he continues to fill you, not stopping until he bottoms out, "There," he murmurs, rubbing circles into the skin of your back, "That's all of it, cariño. Did so good, taking it so well for me."

You sit like that for a few moments, him whispering praises in your ear and rubbing your skin soothingly. He's so thick inside you, you've never felt so full. After a few more moments he carefully grips your hips and slowly begins to move you on his cock, up and down, watching your expression and reveling in the whines emitting from your throat.

"That's it," he says, brow furrowed as he keeps his eyes on your face, "That's what a real cock feels like, querida, and it's the only one you're gonna get from now on." Your face scrunches up in pleasure and you find yourself hiding in his shoulder again, wrapping your arms around him and starting to move your hips to match his pace.

"Javi," you whimper, feeling the head of his cock pushing against the deepest part of you every time you brace down, "So big inside me, Javi."

"I know, cariño," he murmurs, soothing you again with a gentle rub to your back, "Filling you up so good, huh?"

You hum and let yourself go, nose pressed into the dip of his collarbone as you still on his cock and let him go back to working you up and down, murmuring in your ear about how good you feel, what a perfect girl you are, how you'll never fuck anyone else but him for the rest of your life. And you want to believe it's true.

"Work won't be the same anymore," you say against his skin, voice muffled.

"Christ, baby, you're thinking about work?" he taps on your neck and you pull back to look at him, shivering as he continues to fuck you relentlessly as he speaks to you, "Don't think about work right now, querida, not when I've got my cock buried inside you."

"I want you to start fucking me at work," you say suddenly, brow furrowing in pleasure as he hits the deepest part of you again, "In secret, please."

He stills for a second, surprise appearing on his face before he smiles, starts fucking you again with even more fervor, grunting with very thrust.

"Of course I will, baby," he says, pressing his forehead against yours, gripping your hips tighter and fucking you fast and hard, so much so that you feel yourself writhe off the bed again, fingers clasping around nothing as you moan loudly, "I told you, ever since I met you I knew you needed this, needed my cock," he kisses you then, wet and hot, and you feel the tension in your belly start to build, "Gonna give it to you every chance I get from now on, I promise."

You whimper at his words, fucking yourself down on him as hard as you can and letting out cries of pure bliss as he begins to hit your favorite spot over and over, so impossibly deep inside you that you think maybe he will split you open. He rises off the bed with you a bit, holding you tight to him as he wildly bucks into you, bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

"Gonna come, hermosa," he whispers in your ear, breath hot and sticky against your skin, "Give me one more, get that pussy all wet for me," you let out an inhuman sound and feel yourself involuntarily bite into his shoulder, making him groan.

"I'm sorry," you moan, pulling back and seeing the crescent shaped mark in his flesh.

"For what?" he groans, and you feel his thumb start to prod your clit, rubbing it furiously, "Do it again, baby, mark me up, make me yours," you feel your orgasm overtake you at the words, fingernails digging into his back as you writhe and cry in his arms. Without hesitation you bite down on him again, not hard enough to break the skin but enough that there will most certainly be a mark there tomorrow.

He groans at the sensation, pulling you impossibly closer and stilling inside you as he pumps the condom full of his spend, twitching inside you at every pulse. He doesn't pull out right away, just lays still within you while you pant against his shoulder, eyeing the purple mark beginning to bloom on his skin.

"I bit you," you say, eyes wide.

He shifts slightly beneath you, cock still filling you up as he chuckles, "Yes, you did."

"I'm sor-"

He puts a hand up, shaking his head, "Don't apologize, cariño, I like it."

You nod slowly and carefully pull yourself off his cock, already missing the full sensation of having him deep inside you. You lay back on the bed beside him, eyes closed as he disposes of the condom and then settles himself tightly against your side, spooning you and pressing gentle kisses to the back of your neck.

"Did you mean what you said?" you ask quietly, eyes still closed as you feel yourself begin to drift off in his embrace, "Will you really fuck me at work?"

He laughs, gorgeous and perfect in your ear, "Yes, mi sol, I meant it."

--

Javi takes you home early the next morning so you can change your clothes, not wanting Steve to know about what happened last night, as much as it would probably tickle him to know he had a hand in it. He waits for you outside, listening to the radio in his car and squinting against the bright sun, fingers tapping against the base of the window absentmindedly. After a few moments you come back out, wearing a yellow blouse this time in honor of your new nickname. He smiles radiantly at you and you know you made a good choice.

You both manage to keep Steve completely in the dark for the first part of the day; Javi goes back to ignoring you the way he usually does, which you have to admit makes you feel a little bad. But it's all water under the bridge when he follows you to the women's bathroom around noon and locks you inside one of the stalls with him. A few seconds later his cock is hitting the back of your throat as he proves to you that he wasn't lying.

--

"What's that?" Steve says in the late afternoon, only about an hour until you can go home. You look up from your desk but he isn't talking to you, his gaze fixed on Javi.

"What?" Javi replies, brow furrowing as he looks down at himself, "Got a bug on me or something?"

"No, you have a bite mark on your shoulder," Steve says matter-of-factly, and you feel your cheeks go hot, eyes widening as you stare at Javier and watch him figure out what to say.

He just shrugs coolly, "Yeah, slept with this wild bonita last night, she wanted to mark me," he looks back down at his work, "Your wife ever do shit like that, Murphy?"

Steve sighs deeply, leaning back in his chair, "No, she doesn't."

"Thought so," Javi smirks, still not looking up from his paperwork, and you watch as Steve twists his mouth into a scowl, shaking his head.

A few seconds later Steve's looking over at you, giving you a small look of what you can only describe as sympathy, "Sorry," he mouths, shrugging dejectedly, "My bad."

You give him a smile in return, shaking your head, unable to help the rush you feel at not getting caught.

"It's okay," you mouth back, "I'll get over it."

You know Javi is watching you this time.

thank you so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed it and here's my kofi if you'd like to leave a tip (entirely optional of course but much appreciated).

[wannab-urs]

Title: Something Sweet

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: You’re new to the team in Colombia and all alone on your birthday. Your partner, Javier Peña, decides to do something sweet for you. 

Tags: Set vaguely during season 1 before Javi gets extra angsty, canon compliant-ish, reader feeling lonely, sassy!reader, flirty!javi, alcohol (wine), brief mention of a gun bc I feel like a DEA agent wouldn’t just answer the door all willy nilly, kissing, javi asking for consent, but y’all did share a bottle of wine, kissing, fingering f receiving, marking, unprotected PinV, cuddling. I always write angsty Javi, but this is FLUFF, so sorry if it’s OOC, I’m slightly out of my element here. 

WC: 2107

A/N: This fic is a birthday gift for @psychedelic-ink. Sil, you’re a wonderful friend and you do so much for the Pedro Pascal Fandom community on top of being an incredible writer. So, with some help from @pedrorascal with the beautiful gifs, I schemed up a little fic for you. I hope you love it! Happy Birthday and Happy Holidays AHHHH. 

Moving to a new country two weeks before your birthday, which also happens to be Christmas Eve, is not ideal. You moved to Colombia from Miami after a promotion, earning a spot on the elite team working to catch Pablo Escobar. 

The last two weeks have been a whirlwind, trying to catch up on all the facts of the case. You have to learn every sicario by sight and all of their names, aliases, and frequent hang outs. You have to learn about everything Escobar has done in Colombia, all the cartels and how they connect, it’s all extremely exhausting and time consuming. 

Which is why you have no friends yet, unless you count your new partners Javier Peña and Steve Murphy. Which you don’t. You barely know them, and from what you’ve seen so far, Peña is an asshole. Steve might be okay, but you just haven’t had time to get to know him yet. 

You take off your windbreaker and hang it on the back of your chair. It’s kind of ridiculous that you have to work on Christmas Eve, but there’s no rest for the wicked and therefore no rest for you either. You sit down and open the first file on your desk, immediately getting down to business without so much as a greeting for your partners. 

A couple hours into the work day, a shadow darkens your desk. “What do you want, Peña?” 

“God damn, hermosa. Touchy today? I brought you a coffee.” Peña sets the cup of lukewarm black slop on your desk and leans further into your space, peeking at the files you’re reading. 

“Yes, actually. Did you need something or did you just come over here to bother me?” 

“I just came over here to compliment your nails, actually,” he takes your hand in his, inspecting your nails, and then looks into your eyes. “I like the color. Suits you.” 

You feel heat rise to your cheeks. Peña is cute. Gorgeous, really, but you don’t make a habit of flirting with your coworkers. “Thanks… They were my birthday gift to myself.” You tug your hand away from him and place it in your lap. 

“It’s your birthday?” He asks, still leaning much too far into your personal space. You nod and look back down at the file. 

“I have to get back to work now,” you almost whisper to him, all your bitter snark from earlier replaced by a sense of melancholy. There’s not a soul in this entire country who knows it’s your birthday today. Aside from Javier, now, you guess. Javier lingers for another moment before pushing off your desk and leaving you to your work. 

You’re starting to pack up for the day when Peña comes up to your desk again, sitting on the corner. 

 “So what are your plans tonight?” he asks. 

“Huh?” You don’t have any plans. A phone call from your friend in Miami and a bottle of Chilean wine maybe. 

“Your plans? For your birthday?” 

“Oh. I don’t have any. Don’t really know anyone yet so…” you trail off. You feel kind of pathetic, even though you know it’s completely reasonable to not have a group of friends yet. 

“Me and Murphy could take you out?” 

“Oh um–”

“Actually, Jav,”  Steve calls out from his desk. “Me and Connie have plans tonight. Christmas Eve and all,” he gives you an apologetic look. 

“It’s fine really. I’m gonna have a nice relaxing night in. Thanks though.” You put on the best smile you can and head for the door. 

You hang up the phone after your short call with your friend. It’s expensive to call long distance, but she stayed on with you as long as she could. She told you all about her new boyfriend and that everyone had wished you a Happy Birthday and Happy Holidays. You’re grateful she didn’t ask about your job or your love life. 

As you pop the cork on a bottle of wine, there’s a knock on your door. You stare at the door questioningly, as if it will tell you who’s there. Who on earth could be knocking at your door at 8pm on Christmas Eve? 

You grab your gun and sneak over to the door, peeking through the peephole. Broad shoulders and a dark head of hair are all you can make out through the tiny lens. Javier? You set your gun on the side table and pull open the door. 

“Peña? What are you doing here?” 

He turns around and holds his hands out to you. “Brought you something.” He’s holding a birthday cake, clearly store bought, decorated with a generic “Feliz cumpleaños” scrawled on top. A bright smile lights up your face. 

“Oh Javi, you didn’t have to!” 

“I wanted to. You gonna invite me in for some cake?” He raises his eyebrows at you. 

“Oh! Yeah sure. Come in!” You step to the side to let him through and close and lock the door behind him. “Sorry about the mess. I’m not fully unpacked yet.” 

“I’ve been here for 7 years and I’m not fully unpacked. It’s fine.” Javi reassures you. He sets the cake down on your kitchen counter and starts rifling around for plates and silverware. 

“I can do that,” you try to move him out of the way, but he’s having none of it. 

“No, it’s your birthday. Let me. You pour yourself a glass of wine and go sit on the couch.” 

“Fine… thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.” 

You grab a couple glasses and the bottle of wine and carry it to the living room with you. You’re kind of shocked he’s here. He’s always flirty in the office, but he’s like that with everyone. He’s not what you’d call friendly otherwise. Maybe he just feels bad for you. 

Javier drops down onto the couch beside you holding two plates with hefty slices of chocolate cake. He hands you one of the plates and a fork. “Happy birthday. I’m not going to make you do the whole candle thing.”

“Thank you, Javier. This is really, really nice.” You feel like you might cry. It’s just cake, but you felt so alone, and it’s like he really saw you. He saw through whatever exterior shell you were wearing and decided to try to make your day better. 

“Just Javi is fine. And it’s not a big deal, really. You deserve something sweet on your birthday,” he says looking down at the cake in his hands.

“It is to me. A big deal, I mean,” you say softly before taking a bite of the cake. It’s nothing special, just a plain chocolate cake, but it means so much to you. 

You and Javier, Javi, chat about where you’re from and how you came to work for the DEA. You tell him about living in Miami, about the promotion that brought you here. You finish the bottle of wine and a couple more pieces of cake and the conversation doesn’t stop for a long time.

Late in the evening, you finish a story about your 6th birthday, one your aunt always told to the whole family every single year at your birthday dinner. He’s sitting close to you, his thigh pressed against yours despite there being plenty of room on the couch to sit without touching. It makes your heart flutter a little. 

You don’t know if it’s the wine or what, but the little crush you have on him is getting pretty hard to ignore. Javi smirks at you, reaches up, and brushes his thumb over the corner of your lip. 

“Got a little icing there, cariño,” he says, his voice lower and huskier than it has been all night. He brings the icing smeared thumb to his mouth and sucks it between his lips. Your eyes track the movement, pupils blowing wide. He really is pretty. 

You feel yourself lean in toward him, almost unconsciously chasing that thumb to his mouth. He brings his hand up to your cheek and searches your eyes for a moment. He must see what he was looking for because he pulls you closer and presses his lips to yours. 

His lips are soft, warm, gentle on yours. You grab his face in your hands, not wanting him to pull away yet. He slips his tongue along the seam of your lips and you part them, letting him in. You’re not sure who makes the move, but slowly, your back is lowered to the couch, Javi a comfortable weight on top of you. Your hands explore his broad shoulders, the muscles of his back, his trim waist, as he plunders your mouth with his tongue. 

“Can I touch you?” He rasps against your lips. 

“You already are,” you giggle. “Sorry. Yes, Javi.” 

He huffs a laugh into your mouth and slips a hand into your lounge pants, fingers finding your dripping seam. “Wet for me already, hermosa?” 

Your cheeks heat up in slight embarrassment, but you nod. You’re soaked just from kissing him. By the feel of him against your thigh, he’s not better off. He pushes two fingers inside you and presses his lips back to yours. You gasp into his mouth, hands fisting in the back of his shirt. 

His fingers immediately find the spongy spot deep in your core. He curls them, dragging the pads of his fingers along your g-spot with every pump of them inside you. You cling tightly to him, burying your face in his shoulder. 

“Come for me, baby.” 

Your body responds to his command instantly, the tension in your belly releasing into waves of pleasure. Your cunt flutters around his fingers and you whine into his neck as he works you through it. You collapse back onto the couch, and he wastes no time dragging your pants off you. 

You hear the clink of his belt opening, the sound of it hitting the floor. You sit up on your elbows to watch him as he strips off the rest of his clothes. You bite your lip, drinking in the sight of the gorgeous man before you. 

He takes your hands in his and pulls you to your feet before pulling your tank top off you. “Shit, hermosa,” he whispers almost reverently as he takes one of your tits in his large hand, rolling the nipple between two fingers. “Gorgeous.” 

 He kisses you again, wrapping his strong arms around your body and pushing his chest flush with yours. “Bedroom, cariño?” 

You walk him back to your room, barely separating your lips from his for the entire journey. You fall back on your bed and he follows, settling between your legs. His lips drag down your jaw line to your neck as he lines himself up with your entrance. Javi sucks a mark just below your collarbone as he slowly thrusts inside you. 

You wrap your legs around his hips and pull him deeper into you, whining at the stretch. “Fuck, Javi.” 

“Working on it, cariño,” he teases as he bottoms out inside you. He pushes himself up on his elbows and stares into your eyes as he pulls out and thrusts back in smoothly. Your mouth falls open, a little huff spilling out as he bottoms out again. He feels so fucking good inside you. 

Javi sets a steady pace, thrusting into you hard and slow, eyes never leaving yours. When your eyes flutter shut and your back starts to arch in pleasure, he slips his arm under your back, pulling your hips higher on his thighs. The new angle is everything. You gasp out a moan every time his cock punches deep inside you.

Javi is everything in this moment. Your world narrowed to the feeling of his cock pounding into you at that same maddeningly slow, hard rhythm. You feel yourself tightening around him, feel a coil winding in your belly tighter and tighter. 

Javi’s lips find yours again with a kiss that’s more a clash of teeth and tongues than anything as you come hard on his cock. Javi lets out a low groan into your mouth at the way you squeeze him. He thrusts into you a few more times, fucking you through your high, before he quickly pulls out and spills all over your belly. 

He rests his forehead on yours for a moment, catching his breath. He kisses you deeply one more time before falling to the bed beside you. Javi pulls you into his arms, not paying any mind to the mess he made on your stomach. He holds you close, kissing the top of your head. 

“Happy Birthday, cariño.”

[creedslove]

DESERVE IT - PART ONE

Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: you defend Javier after some other agent makes rude comments about his personal life, not allowing anyone to hurt him

Warnings: angst, fluff, mentions of past relationships, mentions of bad relationship, Javi being ashamed and embarrassed

A/N: Just a scenario I had with Javi before bed last night that stuck with me the whole day, so I had to do something about it. And no, no smut for Javi this time 😭

1.6k words

You and Javi were focused on the pictures you received from the informants, watching them closely and trying to draw any detail from them that could somehow help you guys get a clue on Pablo's whereabouts.

You weren't Javi's partner, but since Steve's wife left him, you decided to step in to help out Javi, as he was overloaded with work.

You two had grown closer in the past year, when you moved into the same apartment complex as the other agents did.

You weren't an agent, but you were in charge of supervising all the paperwork and sending it back to the American government.

Javi got closer to you just like he did with every woman: by throwing his charms on you. Which would've worked if you weren't still hurt because of your last bad breakup.

When Javi made a final attempt at seducing you, you were straight up honest with him. You wouldn't jump into his bed because you were still scarred from the last time you allowed someone in, but you assured him you admired him for being honest as well, not playing with anyone's feelings and getting straight to the point.

After that, Javi found a friend in you, and you found a friend in him.

He did everything he could to protect you and you did everything you could to make sure he was safe, you often checked on him, made him meals when you knew all he had was a pack of cigarettes and liquor.

And God, Javier was sweet. He still flirted with you, of course, and you flirted back, he knew you had no intentions of sleeping with him, but it was kind of your thing, he didn't save up any pet names for you. You were querida, cariño, princesa, cielo… you name it. You just felt so at ease with each other.

He was the kind of guy who would leave chocolate on your table or a small flower he found on the street, whatever he saw that reminded him of you. It didn't matter if it was something small, it just made your heart melt and feel welcome there.

You also were aware of Javi's sexual behavior, and not only you, everyone was and you were familiar with his reputation. You knew he slept around, had no strings and even paid for sex, but you never brought it up. Some people called him a manwhore, and though in practice he was one, it never affected how you saw him.

Javi also really appreciated how you never brought it up and on the rare occasions one of the guys from the office made a comment or a joke about his lady friends or his favorite brothel in your presence, you completely ignored it and began talking business instead.

You could tell Javi was trying his best to find something in those photos, but it seemed like a dead end task. So you turned to the pile of paperwork he still had ahead of him and sighed.

"I'll help you with that, Javi… you can take a bathroom break or go for a coffee if you want"

Javier felt his heart clench in his chest at your sweet offer. That wasn't your job, you had no obligation to do that, hell, not even he had the obligation of doing Steve's job but he had to just because he was a little pussy after his wife left him. Javi looked at you for a second, wondering why Steve couldn't be strong like you were. You'd had an awful breakup and though he didn't know the whole story, he knew you enough to assume you just picked up the pieces and started over again.

As if you read his mind, you smiled softly at him "I know you're pissed off at Murphy right now, this is definitely not the best time to have a man down in our team, but cut him some slack. He's going through a real hard time, and a broken heart can really take us down, I know it did when it happened to me, but he'll get over soon" you reminded Javier and placed your hand on his in a comforting way.

You both didn't notice one of the CIA agents approaching your table, and only realized your hands were still touching when the man let out a laugh.

"Y/N and Agent Peña? What is this, holding hands in the office now?" Carlos eyed the two of you up and down and shook his head.

"I can't believe this, Y/N… I expected more from you. You're the office's muñequita. All of us wanted a chance to get you and you go and choose Peña?!" He scoffed.

"You could do so much better than this manwhore, you do know he can't keep it in his pants and all the prostitutes in the country know his name, right?"

You stiffened in your chair and took a quick look at Javi, seeing he gripped the sides of the table to the point his knuckles turned white, he was tense and angry, and yet he didn't dare look up and face Carlos.

It took you a split second to realize Javi was ashamed.

You slammed your hands on the table and got up abruptly, dragging the attention of both men. You stood at full height, though the CIA agent was taller than you, you wouldn't let him intimidate you at all.

"When you say I could do much better do you mean yourself? Because that's hard to believe, Carlos. Not only are you painfully unattractive but extremely stupid and rude" you spat at him "you're married and you chase after women while your wife is waiting for you at home, so I'm guessing you're the real manwhore here. Javier is single and he can do whatever he wants, and trust me when I tell you he does it better than any other man and certainly better than you ever will. Never talk about him like that with your filthy mouth or I swear I'll knock on your door and tell your wife all about your little adventures" you groaned feeling your blood boiling at that whole situation.

It was extremely uncalled for. You didn't care if Javier had troubles with some other agents, he was your friend, he always protected you and took care of you when you needed and you would never admit someone treated him like that in front of you.

Carlos gulped and left without a word. You sat back down and looked at Javi, he finally looked at you in the eyes but remained silent.

"Y/N… I-" he started but you could tell he was still embarrassed about the whole situation so you shook your head.

"I'll finish these tasks at home, can you give me a ride?"

•••

The ride home was silent and you respected that. You weren't sure if Javi got angry with you or if he was just channeling his anger towards Carlos. Either way, you didn't want to bother him.

Javier was still a gentleman and carried the piles of work you both needed to work on. He placed them on your coffee table and sat on the couch, surprising you as you'd figured he'd be back to his apartment.

You got him a drink and one for yourself and you both began working on the paper. He was silent as his eyes scanned the papers even if his brain couldn't process what was written.

"You didn't have to defend me like that, Y/N"

He broke the silence and stared into your eyes.

"Yes I did, Javi. Because you would've done the same for me. Carlos is a pig and he walks around that fucking place as if he was still in high school bullying every one he meets" you told him "he had no right to talk about you like that, and he also doesn't have the right to treat me like that… even if we were fucking, it's none of his business and I don't think you are bad at all"

Javi licked his lips as he nodded.

"About what he said… about me being a manwhore… Do you agree?" He knew he was stepping into a cloudy area, at the same time he wanted to know your true opinion. He was also scared of hearing the truth.

You bit your lower lips and sustained his look for a while, thinking of how to answer his question.

"If you asked me about any other man, you know… my opinion on your…let's call it sexual behavior, I would agree… but I can't when it comes to you, Javi" you extended your hand and touched his arm "what I guess I'm trying to say is that you are different. I like you and I would never look at you differently because of it, I don't think it's a good lifestyle but I won't despise you for that" your hand went for his face, cupping his cheek gently as his sad brown eyes melted you on the inside and out.

"You really think that, hermosa?" You nodded

"I just don't understand why you do it… I mean, look at yourself Javier, you can make any girl weak at the knees, you can have any woman in a heartbeat… I think you deserve a relationship, a wife, kids…. The whole package, Javi. I don't know why you think you don't deserve to be happy, when in reality you are the one who deserves it most"

You leaned in and kissed his lips so softly, at the same time his hands clung to your hips.

Javi's heart was beating so fast at that moment. All of your words, your kiss, your touch and your lips, it all had a deep impact on him. He didn't know why someone like you could like someone like him, but he continued to kiss you, even if he didn't deserve it.

____

A/N: I love Javi, I hope you guys enjoyed it! ❤️

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Chapter 1- I D.A.R.E. You

Summary: After starting your new job as a 3rd grade teacher at Alma Pierce Elementary School, you meet a handsome Javier Peña who has been forced to come give a presentation to your grade. Although you've never met him, you're shocked to find out you may have more in common than you'd think.

Warnings: Mentions of Javi's past work for the DEA, mentions of death and grief, language, financial compensation if you were subjected to the D.A.R.E program as a child, Javi's family friends giving him sass

Word count: 6.2K

A/N: Post Season 3 Javi lives forever in my brain, as the first chapter of this story takes place in Laredo, May of 1997. This man deserves love, and boy is he going to get it.

Series Masterlist Next Chapter

“It’s your lucky day, Peña!” 

Javier glanced up from the pile of paperwork scattered across his desk to acknowledge the voice coming from the doorway to his office. 

“What do you want, Carter?” 

Javier's voice half grunted in response, his eyes shifting back down to the pile of papers on his desk. In his doorway stood his office mate, Detective Eric Carter. When Javier began his new position with the Laredo County Sheriff's Department 4 months ago, it took everything in him to keep from calling his new co-worker Steve. At a glance, he looked just like his old DEA partner. Tall, lanky, with a wiry head of blonde hair and bright blue eyes. 30 seconds into meeting Carter, it didn’t take long to realize looks were about the only thing he and Steve Murphy had in common. Eric Carter was a human ray of fucking sunshine, and his chipper demeanor was blinding Javier this early in the morning. 

“It’s your turn!” Carter replied in a sing-songy voice, slapping a red file folder onto Javier’s desk, covering the papers he had been sorting through. Javier picked up the folder and crinkled his brows in confusion. He turned the cover towards him, holding it just far enough away so that his squint trying to read its contents wasn’t too obvious. God, he just needed to give up and buy reading glasses already. 

As he got the folder just the right distance away from his face, he gave Carter a look that said absolutely fucking not. The folder read D.A.R.E school assembly lessons, with a picture of the Lion mascot giving a big thumbs up in his black D.A.R.E shirt. The office had recently been recruited by Laredo Public School District to start giving presentations to the Elementary schools, using the program aptly abbreviated for Drug Abuse Resistance Education. 

“Just take away the “R” and rearrange some letters and it spells DEA!” Carter laughed to himself. “It’s like it was made for you!” 

“No.” 

“Sorry Peña, you’re bottom of the totem pole this week. We’ve all done our time, and you’re the last one left in the office who has yet to go present. It’s not even that bad, you just basically go talk to these kids for an hour and tell them drugs are bad, don’t do them, yadda, yadda, yadda, you get the gist, and then it’s done. Piece of cake!” 

“I’m not fucking going.” Javier scoffed. “I have shit I have to get done.” Gesturing in annoyance to the piles of papers on his desk, now in disarray from the folder being thrown on his desk. 

“Not a choice, Mr. Peña.” 

A new voice passed by the doorway, and a much broader frame stood behind Carter’s. Chief Deputy Dean Morris, had joined the conversation, knowing that it wouldn’t end easily for Detective Carter if he kept harassing Javier about it. Morris was head of the department, and what he said, went. Coming from a background in the Air Force, Morris knew how “civilian” a position at a sheriff’s department must have felt for Javier after his time in the DEA. 5 years ago, it seemed fair to think that neither of them would have assumed paperwork, mundane training programs, and now, arguing over talking to 10 year olds about the dangers of doing drugs would have played any importance in their jobs. 

 “Right of passage. Ever since the school board dropped this on us last year, we’ve all done our time. Believe me, no one wants to do it, but like Carter said, today is your lucky day!” Morris’s voice oozed with sarcasm, knowing that Javier would absolutely hate every second of what he was about to have to do. 

“You lucked out on your day to go too, Peña. It looks like you get to go to the school with the hot teach-OW! Hey! What was that for?!” Morris had slapped Carter’s shoulder before he could get out the rest of his sentence. 

“Keep it in your pants, okay Carter?” 

Carter let out a huff of defeat. “I’m just saying, he could have gotten worse days to go…” 

“Just read from the notes, let the kids ask a couple of questions at the end and then you’re on your way. Easy peasy. When you get to the school office they’ll let you know where to go.” 

Javier opened his mouth to rebuttal, but before he could even get out a word, Morris held up his hand to stop him. 

“Not a choice. I’ll have Carter help you finish sorting paperwork, so don’t try to bullshit me and tell me that you have too much work to get done.” 

Javier let out a sigh of frustration that was a little louder than he intended it to be. His hands rested on his forehead as he rubbed the bridge of his nose before replying. 

“Fine. But this is one and done.” 

“Good man.” Morris reached over Javier’s desk and gave him a pat on the shoulder. He and Carter started to make their way out of Javier’s office when Morris turned his head over the back of his shoulder. 

“Carter’s right about the teacher, too. She’s a catch.” He winked and shut the door behind him. 

Javier gathered his things and made his way through the office, passing by Detective Carter’s desk. 

“Have funnnnnnn! Say ‘hi’ to the hot teacher for me!” Carter mocked, twinkling his fingers, waving at Javier. 

Without saying a word, Javier flipped him off, and kept walking. 

Settling into his truck, Javier set down his belongings in his passenger seat, and opened up the red file folder to see where his unexpected journey was taking him. 

This is fucking ridiculous He mouthed to himself as he cranked up the AC in the truck with one hand, and rummaged the other through the items on the seat. Reaching next to him, he grabbed and opened the folder, and grazed his index finger down the inside cover, where a schedule of schools, dates, and times were printed. At the bottom, he found 

5/27/97- Alma Pierce Elementary School, 12:00-12:30 pm, school cafeteria

 Javier’s heart sank to the bottom of his stomach. He read the line several times, re-checking the location and date to make sure what he read was true. 

Fuck. 

To any of his other co-workers who had been tasked with giving one of these D.A.R.E. presentations, the elementary school they were assigned to that day most likely held little to no significance. Of course, out of the 16 elementary schools in the Laredo Public School District, Javier was assigned to the one that held the most significance to him. 

The school that his mother taught at for her entire teaching career before she passed away. 

Since returning home from Colombia, Javier had been avoiding human contact like the plague. He had returned as somewhat of a “hometown hero” after his accomplishments with the DEA but couldn’t have felt further from it. He had become Laredo’s hottest topic. 

“What was it like to help catch Escobar?! The Cali Cartel?!” 

“We’re so proud of you, the DEA couldn’t have done it without you!”

“When are you going to come over and tell us all about Colombia? We want to know everything!” 

Each question, compliment and conversation about his time in South America was like a knife to his heart, slowly twisting with each word that came out of someone’s mouth. He could feel the guilt and burden of his time away growing heavier and heavier as he politely smiled through these conversations. 

But worse than the strangers who felt entitled to berate Javier about his time in Colombia, were his friends and family who he had been actively avoiding since returning home. Besides his father, Javier hadn’t seen anyone close to him since his mother’s funeral 8 years ago. It hurt Javier knowing that he had returned to Laredo a changed man, haunted by the things he had seen and done. His mother’s closest friends, those that she worked with at Alma Pierce Elementary School, had promised to fulfill Lucia Peña’s dying wish that they would look out for Javi and made sure that he came home okay. 

Well, Javier was home. He wasn’t quite sure how to break it to them that he wasn’t really okay. 

As he drove and parked in front of the school building, Javier’s heart began to beat heavier in his chest. His fingers drummed on the steering wheel as he started at the entrance to the school. He couldn’t decide if the feeling swirling around in his stomach was comfort or terror, knowing that Alma Pierce Elementary looked exactly the same as it did the last time he was here 9 years ago with his mother. 

He did know that part of that feeling definitely had to be terror, as he began to think about the fact he was about to be interrogated relentlessly by his late mother’s closest friends. Might as well sign these women up to work for the DEA- they were probably more terrifying than anyone Javier had encountered in his time working there. 

After a few more deep breaths, Javier gathered his things out of his truck and headed towards the main doors. Each footstep felt like he was walking through wet cement, questioning if it was too late to turn around.

Practically tip toeing in to the office, hoping to be as inconspicuous as possible, Javier let out a soft “Hi, I’m from the sheriff's department, I’m here for-“ 

Before he could even finish his sentence, the office secretary, a tiny and graying Señora Gutierez was thrusting her arms across the threshold of the office desk to wrap Javier in an impressively strong hug. 

“JAVIER PEÑA. I cannot believe it’s you! oh my sweet mijo, look at you! The older you get, the more like Chucho you look, dios mio! Why haven’t you stopped by?! We have all missed you so much, what have you been doing? It is so good to see you!” 

Here we go.

“Hola, Señora.” Javier half grunted from how tight he was being squeezed. “It’s nice to see you too.” 

“I have lots to ask but I know you need to go, or they will know that this old woman has been running her mouth, making you late.” Señora Gutiérrez began shooing her hand, as to send Javier on his way. 

Javier chuckled. He felt his body begin to ease slightly, letting the familiarity of friendly faces bring him a small sense of comfort. 

“I would hope after this VERY LONG time that you have not been to see your mamà’s dearest friends, you still remember where the cafeteria is?” She gave Javier a playful grin.

“Sí, Señora.” 

“Everyone will be so happy to see you, mi amor. Now go, or everyone will be after me for keeping you!” 

Grabbing his things, Javier made his way down the bustling hallway. Tiny faces stared up at his, as he shuffled his way towards the cafeteria doors. There, he was greeted by a sea of children chatting amongst themselves and 3 smiling faces, patiently waiting for his arrival. 

“JAVI!” 

Out of any of the faces he was bound to see today, these were the 3 he would recognize anywhere. The ladies who stood before him were the fellow 3rd grade teachers who had taught alongside his mother for almost 20 years. 

The ladies surrounded him in a bear hug, Javier quietly noting to himself that he had definitely reached his hug quota for the next several weeks. 

“It’s so good to see you, Javi.” The first of the 3 women spoke, her words sweet like honey. Linda Garcia was short and stout, her gray bangs brushing over the brim of her glasses as she looked up at Javier. Linda had always had a soft spot for Javi, and reminded him the most of his mother. 

“It’s good to see you t-“ 

“PENDEJO. WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?! WHY HAVE YOU NOT CALLED?! WE SWORE TO YOUR LATE MOTHER THAT WE WOULD TAKE CARE OF YOU, AND IF IT WASN’T FOR CHUCHO KEEPING US UPDATED TH-” 

“Maria, let the boy breathe, this is the first time you’re seeing him in years, and this is the route you’re going to take? Dios Mio.” 

Standing next to Linda were her 2 partners in crime, Maria Rogers and Estelle Lopez. 

If you didn’t know Maria Rogers, you would be shocked to see the ferocity that came out of such a tiny woman. Javier’s mother used to refer to her “el vòlcan”- a matching nickname for her fiery personality. 

Estelle, on the other hand, was one of the most soft spoken people that Javier had ever meant. If she had something to say, he knew it was time to listen. 

“Hi everyone, it’s really great to see all of you.” Javier meant it. As overwhelmed and flustered as he was, it brought him peace to know after the hell that these last 8 years had been, some things never change. 

“MRS. ROGERSSSSSSS. WHEN IS THIS GONNA START?! I’M HUNGRY AND I KNOW LUNCH IS AFTER THIS.” 

“BE QUIET, MICHAEL. YOU KNOW WE’RE STILL WAITING FOR ONE MORE CLASS. YOU’RE SO ANNOYING.” 

“AM NOT!” 

“AM TOO!” 

Chatter and fidgeting amongst the 3rd graders instantaneously increased, the crowd of children now growing restless. 

“Oi, these niños will be the death of me, thank goodness this school is almost done.” Maria mumbled under her breath, the other 2 teachers rolling their eyes and laughing in agreement. “We’re just waiting on one more class, but they should be here any minute.” 

Overhearing the conversations shouted across the cafeteria, Agent Carter’s voice wandered through Javier’s thoughts. 

“You get the school with the hot teacher!” 

Obviously, Carter was not referring to the 3 women who stood before him. Although he wasn’t one for crude office banter, Javier couldn’t help but wonder if Carter’s statement really held true. With a genuine curiosity and a slight smirk on his face, he leaned back, arms crossed and asked, “Yeah wait, there’s still four 3rd grade teachers right?” 

The women all shot him a look that took him aback, their eyes burning a hole though Javier. 

“Jesus, you men really have a one track mind don’t you. Yes, I’m sure all of your friends from the department have been more than happy to tell you about our new teacher who just joined us. She is a sweet girl, and I am sure she is sick of getting harassed by all of you.” 

“Maria, I was just asking a quest-“ 

“Javier Jesus Peña, I have known you since before you were born. Wipe that smug look off your face, I know exactly why you asked the question”. 

Yup, things haven’t changed a bit. 

Before he could retort, the cafeteria doors began to swing open, followed by a long line of children, and you. 

“1, 2, 3, eyes on me!” 

“1, 2, eyes on you! 

God, the amount of times you’d had to repeat that phrase as the end of the school year approached, you might as well have gotten it tattooed on your forehead. 

“Okay 3rd graders, we’re already 5 minutes late for our assembly, and I’m sure the other classes are not going to be happy that we’re holding them up, and probably making us late for lunch after” 

The chatter stopped. With only a few days left in the school year, you were running out of ammunition to keep your class’s attention. At least the threat of being late to unch would work for now. 

A little hand shot up from the middle of the line you were about to trail down the hallway, like a mother duck with her babies following in line. “What’s your question, Jaun?” 

“Do you know if it’s gonna be the same guy as last time? He was kind of scary.” Mumbles of agreement came from the voices surrounding him. The Laredo Sheriff's Department had sent in a slew of their employees each week for these presentations, and you had been convinced none of them had ever even attempted to talk to a child. Last week’s presenter, Martin, Michales, something like that, had spent the large time of his presentation talking about getting murdered by the Cartel, leading to tears from many of your students, and a prompt request to not have him back. 

“I don’t know sweetie, it seems like there’s someone new who comes every week, but I sure hope it’s not him.” The class let out a small giggle. These were the moments you loved about your job as a teacher, especially now that you had moved to an older grade where your kids finally picked up on your subtle jokes with them. 

You had been with your class since after Christmas break, filling in as a long term sub for a 3rd grade teacher on maternity leave. The job followed an impromptu move from Chicago to Texas after breaking off your relationship with your boyfriend (regrettably, almost fiancé)  of 3 years, who had been cheating on you behind your back for 2 of them. You felt like an idiot that you hadn’t seen it coming, but it still hit you like a ton of bricks. Paul had plenty of red flags, but your optimistic demeanor and the mounting peer pressure of watching your friends get married and start their own families made you feel trapped. It still stung to think you would have settled for a miserable life with Paul out of the fear you wouldn’t find anyone else. 

 Desperate to get as far away from Illinois as possible, you packed your bags and made the nearly 4 day drive down to Laredo, Texas. Laredo,  a strange choice to many, but made nothing but complete sense to you. Your best friend since the 2nd grade, Sarah Alverez, had moved to Laredo your Freshman year of high school, her father accepting an agricultural engineering position in ranching country. You spent every summer until college visiting her and her family, having nothing but the fondest of memories for a sleepy town outside of San Antonio. It was a stark chance from the hustle and bustle of Chicago suburbia where you had spent your childhood. Long, carefree summer days made you promise yourself that if you ever did leave Chicago, you’d find yourself here. Well, you had made good on your promise, but for reasons that still made your stomach churn in gut-wrenching knots. 

You and your class journeyed down the hallway to the cafeteria. Thank god it was a short trip, because you were far too tired to put up with the bickering and shenanigans the back of your line often seemed to plague you with. Just as you were entering through the cafeteria doors, you promptly turned around, your body facing the line as you walked backwards further into the cafeteria. “Isabella and Jorge, keep your hands to yourself! You two know you’re not supposed to be in line togeth-” Before you could finish your sentence, the back of your body collided with one behind you that you hadn’t seen since turning around to stop a near WWE smackdown in the hallway. You had bumped into kids more than once who weren’t paying attention to their surroundings, but it became very clear, very quickly, that the body you had backed yourself into was not a child’s. 

The body you had backed yourself into was much taller and broader than yours. Two large hands firmly, but gently grasped around the middle of your upper arms to catch you without stumbling backwards any further. An overwhelming scent of cedarwood and sage cologne filled your senses. This obviously was not one of your coworkers, either. 

“Oh my gosh, I am so sorr-“ you started to apologize as you came to face the body that had stopped you in your tracks. Your apology halted as you were met by incredibly broad shoulders covered by a navy blue suit jacket. As your gaze continued upwards, the shoulders were followed by a strong square jawline and plush lips, the upper covered with an impeccable mustache. Continuing up, you were met with the most beautiful, deep chocolate brown eyes, whose soft stare soon met yours. There was no denying that this man was devilishly handsome. Realizing that you had most definitely been starting too long, you restated your apology. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize you were behind me.” Your eyes shifted away from his and darted down to the floor. 

A small smirk formed on his face as he looked down at you. He didn’t realize it, but he couldn’t help it. You were wearing a yellow sun dress that hit just above your knees, covered by a light washed denim jacket. Your dress swayed beautifully as he watched you take your last few steps backwards, making him question himself if he let you run into him on purpose. You smelled like vanilla and something sweet that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Pink embarrassment flooded your cheeks as a soft smile on your face met his. He now too realized that he had been staring a little too long, and that he still had his grasp on your arms as you had turned around to look at him. 

“No it’s okay.” He let out a small laugh under his breath. “I just didn’t want you to go too much further and trip over anything else.” He gently let his hands leave her arms, and watched as she brushed a piece of hair out of her face and looked back up at him. 

“Should we go sit down now?!” A small voice shouted from your line, causing you to snap back to reality, realizing that you had a line of children still standing behind you. 

“Yes, sorry sweetie” you replied, brushing your dress down back into place. “You guys can go find a spot behind Mrs. Rogers’ class.” Your class passed by you, paying no mind to the interaction that just took place between you and the man you had just bumped into. 

As you watched your class pass by, you turned back around to find the man still staring at you, causing your heart to palpably beat in your chest. The same strong hands that had caught you were now extended in your direction, offering a handshake to introduce himself. “I’m Javier Peña, uh Javi, actually” as your hand met his, realizing how small they felt in his grip. “I’m from the Laredo Sheriff's department, I uh, I’m the one that’s supposed to be doing the whole presentation thing today.” Your hand stayed in his as you introduced yourself. God, his hands were something else.

His grip loosened as your co-workers began to move towards you. You began to realize how hot your face felt, knowing that you were flushed with embarrassment not only from almost falling into a crowd of 10 year olds, but from how awe struck you were by the man who had caught you.

The three women on your 3rd grade team had taken you in as one of their own when you started your job here. They had been more than happy to step in to help you with whatever you needed, including trying to set you up with every single man your age that they knew. With the exception of the parade of overly forward sheriff's department members who had been at your school every Wednesday. Those 3 had no problem telling those men to fuck right off and leave you alone (in the nicest way possible.) The ladies slowly crept closer towards you, sly grins stretched across their faces as they giggled like school girls. 

“OH, so it looks like you met our sweet Javier!” Linda said with over exaggerated enthusiasm. 

“Sweetie, you’re SO good with the technology around here, you know how us old ladies are. Maybe you could help him set up the video he needs for his presentation today?” You knew damn well these women knew how to press play on a VCR. You grimaced your face at Maria. While you couldn’t see your face, you were absolutely positive your expression was screaming “Oh my God, could you please make it any more obvious that this man is insanely attractive and you don’t need to add to the embarrassment after I already ran into him like an idiot?!” 

“Yeah, of course, I’d be more than happy to help!” You pointed towards the stage that sat in front of the cafeteria. “Just come this way and I’ll show you how to set it up.” 

Following behind you, Javier leaned his head down towards yours. “Must be the most complicated VCR set up I’ve seen in a while.” 

You let out a giggle. “Yeah, they're all very sweet, but not the most skilled with anything that has to do with technology. When our principal had mentioned the idea of us potentially getting a computer lab, they just about had a heart attack. Setting up the TV to play a video should be no problem.” You gestured towards the stage at the front of the cafeteria where the TV cart was kept for presentations. He followed behind you, keeping a respectful distance.  Not respectful enough to keep himself from staring at the curve of your ass in your dress as you walked up the stage stairs. 

“Do you have the tape you need to show?” Your words went in one ear and out the other. Carter and Morris weren’t kidding. He hated to admit that those idiots were right about anything, but God, you were beautiful. His gaze was locked on you as squatted down next to the VCR, ejecting its previous contents. It seemed in that moment that you very much both realized that when Javier stood in front of you, you eye level with his waist, staring up at him, dangerously close to his coc- 

“Uh, yeah, yeah sorry,” he shook his head slightly to snap himself out of the thought he was about to have. “Thanks.” he smiled sheepishly. 

“Well I’m no technology expert, but all you should have to do is press play wherever you need to, and you should be good to go! Let me just roll this cart out for you and we’re good for you whenever you’re ready!” You began pushing the cart out onto the stage, but before you could get anywhere, Javi had his hand over yours. 

“You don’t have to do that. I’m sure it’s probably heavy, I can push it.” He insisted. 

You raised your eyebrows and gave him a look that made him step away. 

“What, you think I can’t do it?” Defiantly, you pushed the cart out to the middle of the stage to prove a point, looking back at him and shrugging with an “I told you so” look on your face. Any other woman he had met would have thankfully given up the task, let alone offer to do it at all. At that moment, Javier Peña knew you were not just any other woman. And that- that terrified him in the best way possible.

 Just before you hopped off the edge of the stage to re-join your class, you looked up at him as he ran his fingers through his locks of thick, curly brown hair, trying to regain his composure. 

“Good luck up there, Mr. Peña.” 

Javier couldn’t even tell you what had happened in the 30 minutes that he was up on stage. There were many times throughout his career where he had stared out into a sea of blank faces as he gave a presentation about intel, informats, wire taps… but having the eyes of 80 9 and 10 year olds glued to his every word was an absolutely terrifying experience. Not because he was nervous about the judgment of a child who may or may not even be able to tie their shoes or wipe their nose, but because of what they may say about him to you. It took everything in his power not to stare at you the entire time he was up there, but every time he glanced in your direction, your face lit up with a reassuring smile. You had even given him a little thumbs up when he had successfully started the VCR, playing a clip of Daren the D.A.R.E Lion. 

As the presentation finished, the kids applauded and gave a unanimous “thank you!” prompted by the teachers. 

As your class gathered behind you to walk down to the cafeteria, Maria tapped your shoulder. 

“Take a picture, mija, it will last longer.” 

You were too busy staring at Javi to even notice that Maria was talking to you. Her words went in one ear and out the other. 

“Huh, what? Sorry, did you say something?” 

“I said, take a picture, it will last longer.” Maria laughed to herself. “I don’t think your eyes have left him once since you walked in here.” 

You hated to admit it, but it was true. You had known this man for less than an hour, and he already had butterflies dancing around in your stomach. God, what were you, 12?! Pull it together. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Maria.” Of course you did. If you were wearing pants, they would be up in flames. Liar, liar, pants on fire. 

“I’ll take your class to lunch today. I’ll be back to help stack all of the chairs in a few. I’m sure he could use some help cleaning up, and I’ve heard that VCR is really difficult to work.” Maria nudged you before she turned around to collect your class and parade them out of the gym. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” 

Trying to contain your excitement, you playfully rolled your eyes and shook your head. 

The other teachers and students left, leaving just you and Javi. He gathered his things that he had left on the stage and started to make his way back down the stairs. It took him a moment to realize you were standing at the edge of the steps, arms crossed over your chest, smiling up at him. 

“I’m sorry if the kids were rowdy. It’s been a zoo since there’s only a few days of school left.” You both let out a small chuckle. Now that you two were alone, you became very aware of how nervous you were.

“You did a really great job! Honestly, you’re the best person we’ve had since we’ve started doing these presentations. The guy we had last time, I can’t remember his name, something with an M?! Anyways, I don’t think he’s ever spoken to a child in his entire life, and there were definitely some tears.” 

Definitely Morris, Javi noted to himself. 

“Thanks, I uh- didn’t think I’d be so nervous to talk in front of a bunch of kids. I’m glad it wasn’t too bad. I should thank you for helping me with that video. Didn’t need to get my pride bruised in front of 10 year olds.  Also glad I didn’t make anyone cry.” 

You both let out small laughs, your cheeks revealing small smiles across your faces. While the silence between you grew, the distance between you began to shrink as you both subconsciously took a small step towards each other. 

He watched as a small wave of sadness flooded your expression. “Stinks that this is the last week of presentations before the school year ends. it would have been nice to have you back.” You looked at him with a half hopeful smile. You saw the same feeling reflected back in him as his brow scrunched and bottom lip entered a small pout. 

“Oh shit. Yeah, I uh, I guess I forgot it’s the end of the school year. That would make sense there wouldn’t be anymore presentations.” He rested one hand on his hip, as the other traveled through his thick, brown locks. You bit down on your bottom lip, stunned by his broadness and shoulders to waist ratio, which was made even more apparent as his fingers combed through his hair. His deep brown eyes met yours, melting you instantly.  “If I had known that you would have been here, I would have signed up to come a lot earlier.” 

Before you had a chance to recover yourself from the puddle you had just turned into, the cafeteria doors swung open once again. Maria was a woman on a mission. Her tiny, thin frame marched with purpose towards you both. 

“Oh good thing I caught you, amor! I was just thinking that I had something important to tell Javier before he left and I’m so glad you’re here to hear it too. Javi happens to be a dear familiar friend, and I was just telling him before the presentation how excited I am to see him and his father at my cookout this Saturday! I know you had mentioned you were thinking about going! You’ll be there, won’t you Javier? Aren't you so excited to come to the party this Saturday?”

Maria and Javier entered a silent stare down. Their expressions allowed them to have an entire conversation without speaking a word. 

There’s a party on Saturday? What are you talking about? What does this have to do with anything?

Dios Mio, Pendejo. Take the hint. I already invited her. She will be there on Saturday so you can see her again. Don’t mess this up. 

“Oh really?” You chimed in, perhaps a bit too over enthusiastic. “I wasn’t really going to know anyone besides the staff at school, so it would be nice to see another familiar face!” In all honesty, you were trying to find a way out of going before just now. Huge social gatherings of strangers weren’t really your thing, but if it meant it was a chance to see Javi again, you would brave it. 

“Oh yeah, the uh, the cookout! Yeah, uh, yeah, I’ll be there. It would be really nice to see you again, too.” Although Javier’s tone carried a tint of confusion, his smile was confirmed that his statement was genuine. 

“Bueno!” Maria clasped her hands together and shook her head in delight. “So you will BOTH be there on Saturday!” 

You could already feel your heart swelling at the prospect of seeing Javi again. 

“Oh and mija”, Maria turned towards you, your face lighting up, wondering if she had even more good news to deliver. “They need you in the office. Isabella and Jorge got into a wrestling match in the cafeteria and the secretaries needed to call their parents. Oi, these niños are like wild animals, summer cannot come fast enough!” 

“Of course they did. They might as well put WWE referee under our job description because it seems like that’s all I’m doing all day. It’s like herding feral cats.” you groaned. “Those two cannot be together next year…” 

Javi let out a snort. “Sorry”, he said, trying to contain his laughter. You joined in, realizing the ridiculousness of your statement. 

“Alright, well I guess that’s my cue to go. It was really nice to meet you, Javi. I’m really glad I get to see you again.” It took every ounce of strength in your body to move yourself out of the cafeteria doors. As you walked away, you turned once more to look back over your shoulder, to find that Javi’s eye’s hadn’t moved from your direction since you turned around. “See you on Saturday.” 

Even after you were out of sight, Javi still stood frozen, his eyes wide and jaw still half open. 

“Hola, earth to Javier, are you there?!” Maria interjected, waving her hand in front of Javi’s awe struck face. 

Snapping out of his trance, Javier began to speak, but was stopped before he could get out a single word. 

“Listen to me mijo. I want you to be happy. That was all Lucia asked for before she passed. So first and foremost, you are welcome.” Maria gestured, alluding to the fact that Javier owed her big time for what had just happened. “Secondly, she is a sweet girl. If you do anything to break her heart, so help me, I will come to the ranch and run you over with your father’s tractor. Understood?” 

“Understood.” Javier understood that this was not a threat, it was a promise. 

“Good. She’s a good one, Javier. She reminds me so much of your mother. Lucia would have loved her.” She reached up her hand to cup the side of Javi’s face, before bringing her other arm around him for a hug. 

Javier exhaled, trying his best to hold back the tears that were welling in his eyes. It was the first time since returning home that he felt a sense of relief and comfort fill his body. Maybe, he was more than the man he was returning home from Colombia. Maybe, the people who loved him before he left still loved him now, despite the person he’d become. Maybe, just maybe, someone else could love him for the new man he now hoped to become.  

[pasc4lfuzz]

me vuelves loco

pairing: javier peña x f!reader a/n: i've tried writing before, but every time i've tried and even posted, i've deleted it after less than a week because i didn't like what i'd written. I don't know if I'll regret this one-shot after a while and end up deleting it, but I hope you like it. ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE!!!! summary: During the DEA New Year's party in colombia javi can't take his eyes off you. rating: MATURE! MDNI warnings: flirting, heavy make out, alcohool, remembering sex (i think this would be the right term lol) word count: 3.5k dividers by @/saradika-graphics

December 31st and you and the DEA still haven't caught Pablo Escobar, and so goes another year of hard work, always getting close to the goal but never quite finishing. As always, on New Year's Eve, the DEA throws a party for its employees. Last year you didn't feel like going, you preferred to stay at home, you, a bottle of wine, a plate of pasta alfredo and the TV on. 

You were immersed in your own thoughts for a long time as you sipped your wine, reminiscing about everything you did last year, especially your mistakes, how many times you and your partners were close to catching the head of the cartel and something went wrong, taking you back to the beginning. But that didn't even come close to occupying your mind during the night, definitely not, in your head there was only Javier Peña, that man with the broad shoulders and slutty waist, the way his thight jeans hugged his legs and ass, the cheesy grin he did when he hears the sound of your heels through the office. But surely one of your biggest mistakes - or the one you try to convince yourself was a mistake - was having sex with Javier. You didn't want to be another notch on his belt, but (un)fortunately you ended up giving in, but how could you not? 

That night you were going over some files with Javi in his apartment, glasses of whiskey on the coffee table, some papers lying on the sofa and on the floor, Javis eyes every few minutes on you, admiring you, flirting with you until you couldn't stand it. Suddenly you remember Javier's lips where in yours kissing you hungrily, his tongue searching for yours while their hands stroked from your waist to your ass and their hands tugged at your hair. You remember everything down to the smallest detail, the way he kissed your whole body, the feeling of his tongue flicking your clit, he tasting your pussy like a starving man. The weight of his body on top of yours and how your inner walls hugged his cock in every thrust, his groans and whispers praising you were echoing in your mind, and you realize, you've got it bad for Javier Fucking Peña.

So this year you've decided to go to the party, maybe you'll meet someone important there, get more contacts to help with Escobar's case. Work, work, work, that's all there was to your life lately, stressing you to the limit many times, you saw things and situations you'd never forget, but in the end you told yourself the same thing, in the end I'll have helped a lot of people, and that's all you wanted. As well as thinking that going to the party will help you at work, a week earlier Connie Murphy was at your apartment, your partner Steve's wife met you by chance in the building that the DEA had made available to the agents when you were coming home from work with Steve and Javi, and since then you've become friends. 1 week ago, the night Connie came to your apartment to have dinner and talk, she mentioned the party and said she was going with Steve and asked you if you were going.

"I don't know Con, I was thinking of going but... it's not really my scene" You say sighing and throwing your head back on the sofa, wiping your hands across your face "Maybe there I'll be able to talk more to some people from the Embassy and-" You're interrupted by Connie waving her hands and starting to talk.

"No, no, no, that's enough work talk and work thinking" Connie puts her hand on his shoulder, making him look at her "You work too much, you put all your time and effort into the DEA, I understand that it's supposed to end all this madness once and for all, but I think it's best if you give it a rest, you know." 

Her gaze gradually calms you down, your shoulders relax and your posture is no longer rigid from all the stress you've been going through lately.

"Think of this party as an escape from your problems, there won't be any narcs there for you to worry about, and I'll be there too," Connie says winking in your direction, eliciting a huffy laugh that shakes your head.

"Yeah, I'll go, at least I don't have to drink my own wine" You shrug letting out a sly smile.

The atmosphere in the main hall where most people were meeting is buzzing with energy and excitement. The vast space is adorned with shimmering decorations, exuding a bit sense of luxury, besides this was a DEA party, some colombian politicians were there making presence. Soft, warm lights bathe the room in a flattering glow, casting a sophisticated aura over the gathering. Lively conversations fill the air, complemented by the soft tones of a electric guitar, bass and a woman singing beautifully playing in the background. You're wearing a pearly white satin dress that goes all the way down to your heels, your make-up is simple but your lips are a deep red.

You pass some of your coworkers doing a fast small talk in pursuit of your goal of getting to the bar counter. There are at least 3 people in charge of making the drinks and preparing the drinks that are ordered, you give a friendly smile to the man who approaches you on the other side of the counter asking if you would like anything. You quickly look at the drinks menu and order a Cosmopolitan. 

This isn't one of the best scenarios you could imagine yourself in, you barely enjoy going out for a happy hour after long hours at work, let alone a New Year's Eve party with almost everyone you've worked with. You blame Connie, who, by the way, you haven't seen until now, while your eyes slowly wander around the room watching the others chatting and smiling. One of your favorite pastimes is:

observing.

Many times have you found yourself late at night when you couldn't sleep at your window, feeling the soft caress of a refreshing breeze that carries a subtle hint of the surrounding nature. The gentle touch of the air eases the sticky, humid air that normally hangs heavily in the Colombian nights, providing a respite from the tropical heat that characterizes this part of the world. Colombia wasn't a city that never sleeps like New York or a night city like Los Angeles, but there was a bit of movement at night, and you love watching people pass by and guessing where they're going, who they're meeting or how their day went. And now it's no different.

You're immersed in your thoughts, your attention going from person to person analyzing their features and posture, some with fake smiles just to please the rest around them, others very excited about the turn of the year with a fresh start, and a good number of the people you work with exhausted, just wanting this drug war to end.

Your trance is interrupted when you hear a familiar voice in your ear.

You knew that voice very well.

A voice that sends your heart racing and your spine tingling with anticipation.

It's Javier, his voice velvety, sultry, and more than enough to send shivers down your spine, awakening a deep sense of longing that you find both thrilling.

“Hermosa, I didn't expect to see you here” 

You turn your head to the right and see Javier Penan, leaning slightly with his right arm on the counter, with that smirk in his face that drives you crazy- NO!

You hate it.

“Peña.” You give him a slight nod and pick up your Cosmopolitan, which should have been sitting there for at least two minutes while you paid attention to your surroundings. 

You feel Javier's gaze travel slowly from the top of your head to the tips of your toes, as if he were taking in every aspect of you. His eyes travel with an almost tangible intensity, like a physical caress on your features. You can practically feel the way his gaze follows the outline of your hair, pauses to appreciate the shape of your face and then moves down, lingering on the curves and lines of your body. The way he looks at you is almost hypnotic, as if he's trying to memorize every inch of you.

“You look stunning,” he says, and you feel your heart skip a beat as his eyes meet yours once again. Those warm, brown puppy dog eyes that you had thought could see right through your soul.

You feel exposed, laid bare under his gaze, like a book open for inspection. There's a spark of mischief in his eyes, as though he's enjoying the effect he's having on you, and he leans in a bit closer, a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

“You don't look so bad yourself,” I reply, quickly looking him up and down. The suit he's wearing hugs his body perfectly, emphasizing the broadness of his shoulders, and making it hard not to appreciate the way it shows off his physique. I can see the strength in his frame, the way his shoulders bunch up as he rolls them back, and the way the fabric stretches over the muscles of his arms. My eyes dart back up to his face, where his mouth curves into a small, wry smile, the look in his eyes almost smug.

“Like what you see?” Javier winks at you and you take a big sip of your drink, breaking eye contact.

“you wish” I roll my eyes placing the drink down ”have you seen Connie?”

“Hm yeah she’s actually with Steve talking with Noonan” He points to his partner and his wife talking with the ambassador.

“Excuse me Peña.” You say walking away from him, you can feel his eyes glued in your ass, watching the way your hips sway as you walk through the room.

As the night wore on,you were engaged in a conversation with Connie and started to question your decision to listen to her.

"Connie, I think I'm leaving now," you said, finishing the last sip of your drink as your eyes scanned the room.

She gasped, clearly not believing what you were saying. "No, no, no! We discussed this already. If you leave, you'll be all alone on New Year's," she exclaimed.

You nodded, replying, "That's exactly what I had planned, just like last year."

“No, come on stay for me, soon Steve is gonna start getting sleepy and i would get bored” Connie waits for your response.

You close your eyes taking a deep breath before answering a simple “Fine” and Connie smiles at you.

“I’ll get you another Cosmopolitan” Connie leaves towards the bar to get you the drink she promised.

As you patiently wait for your friend and your drink, you couldn't help but take another look around the room. This time, you noticed something you hadn't before - a nearly closed door. Intrigued, you couldn't resist exploring further, walking towards the door and gently pushing it open.

Behind the door, you found yourself in a cozy little library, filled with books and the faint scent of old paper. As you walked along the shelves, your eyes scanned over various titles until something caught your attention - your favorite book.

There it was, standing out among the others, and your heart skipped a beat out of excitement. You eagerly pulled it out from the shelf and held it in your hands, feeling a sense of comfort and nostalgia wash over you.

“That’s a good one.” A voice behind you echoes through your mind, of course it's Javier.

You turn around looking at him trying to hide your emotions from the guy that little by little was stealing your heart, and that scared you. You shouldn't feel that way about him, you know very well that Javier Peña doesn't do relationships.

“Didn’t know you read.” You say sarcastically putting the book back in its place.

“Oh please, I know I'm not the most intelligent man but sometimes I read.” He says while slowly walking towards you, it’s like your body is calling him.

"Anyways, it's a classic, of course it's good," you say with a hint of excitement. Without realizing it, you start to passionately ramble about the book, your words flowing effortlessly as you speak.

"I mean, just the way the author captures the essence of the characters' development throughout the story, the way the plot unfolds, the way the conflict is resolved - it's all so brilliantly done. And don't even get me started on the writing style!" As you finally finish your passionate ramble about the book, you suddenly notice Javier's gaze fixed on you, almost as if it was burning through your skin.

"Why did you stop?" he asked, taking a few steps closer, his eyes never leaving yours.

“I…” You can’t trust your own words at this point, afraid you’ll say something that will fell wrong.

A shiver ran down your spine as Javier spoke in a low, sultry tone, his words sending a warm sensation coursing through your body.

"I don't think you realize this," he continued, his voice dropping even lower, "but you literally become ten times sexier when you talk about books."

“Stop right there Peña” You put your index finger in his chest “I know where you tryna get from this, and im not ending up in your bed” 

“Hermosa” Your heart skipped a beat as Javier pulled you closer, your bodies now touching, his whiskey breath hot against your face. "Believe me," he murmured, his voice dropping to an even huskier tone, "I'm not just trying to get you in my bed. You might not believe this, but I really like you."

A wave of heat washed over you as you looked up into his eyes, wondering if there was more to  his words than just a line. And he was right, you didn’t believe him at all.

“Doesn’t seem like it” You murmur

Javier's gaze deepened as he looked into your eyes, his voice still carrying that sultry undertone. "I like the way you prefer tea over coffee," he began, the words coming out slowly and intentionally, "and how you always drink your jasmine tea in our office. The smell of it wafts through the room, constantly reminding me of you. And your laughter, it sounds like a 5-year-old's - innocent and carefree. But it brings a smile to my face every single time I hear it."

As you giggled and shyly looked away listening to him list the things he liked in you, Javier's smirk widened, his fingers gently catching your chin and turning your face back to him.

"Yes, that's the laugh," he repeated, a hint of amusement in his voice, "the one I was talking about. It's infectious, you know."

Your eyes get lost in his, it’s almost like you can see and learn everything about him just by looking at his brown chocolate eyes. Javier's lips left a trail of gentle pecks on your cheeks, while his words echoed in your ears, sending a surge of heat through your body.

"I like it when you let your hair down," he murmured, "but I also like it when you tie it. I like it when you speak in Spanish," another kiss on your other cheek, "and most of all, I love the way you talk about the things you love."

As his lips hovered millimeters away from yours, leaving you yearning for more, you couldn't resist any longer.

The moment your lips met, an explosion of sensation took over. It was a hungry and passionate kiss, filled with months of built up tension and desire. Your grip on Javier's neck tightened as you pulled him closer, your bodies pressing against each other. His hands found their way to your hips, holding you tight as the kiss deepened. Tongues danced in a greedy, desperate dance, exploring each other's mouths as if trying to devour one another.

It was like an explosion of feelings all together, you felt like your heart could jump out of your chest at any minute. 

Sure you’ve already shared a few kisses with him, but it was always with a second intention, just like that one night you never forget. But this is different, the kiss was slow and deliberate, every movement filled with emotion and desire. Your lips moved in tandem with each other, exploring every inch of the other's mouth. A soft moan escaped your lips as Javier's tongue traced along your lower lip, seeking entrance. You granted it willingly, allowing him to plunge deeper into the recesses of your mouth. The kiss was hungry, but it was also tender, a perfect blend of love and excitement.

You feel your back against one of the bookcases as Javier kisses you more and more. Your hands pull his hair and massage his broad shoulders.

As you pulled your head back, gasping for air, Javier instinctively tried to chase your lips, unwilling to break the connection. He opened his eyes and couldn't help but let out a low growl at the sight of you biting your bottom lip, your eyes still closed in the aftermath of the passionate kiss.

As you opened your eyes and caught sight of his smile, something in your heart flipped, and you knew you were in too deep. "I believe you," you whispered, holding his face gently in your hands, your thumbs gently caressing his jaw.

"But if you really want this," you continued, your voice firm yet tinged with a hint of vulnerability, "you have to try not to mess things up. I'm willing to give you a chance, but I need you to promise me you'll be careful with my heart."

Javier's smile widened even further as you spoke, his heart swelling with a mixture of relief and affection. He leaned into your touch, savoring the feel of your thumbs caressing his jaw, and he nodded in agreement.

"Don't worry, hermosa," he murmured, his voice softer and more genuine than you had ever heard it before. "I won't mess this up, I promise. I'm all in."

Without missing a beat, your lips crashed into each other once more, the passion and intensity of the moment taking over. The world around you faded away as you both become lost in the kiss, the hunger for each other growing stronger with each passing second.

As the kiss deepened, you found yourself pressed up against the shelf, Javier's body pinning you against it as his hands roamed over your body, touching every inch of exposed skin. His lips moved from your mouth to your neck, leaving a trail of hot, hungry kisses along the sensitive flesh. Your bodies instinctively moved closer, creating a delicious friction that sent waves of desire coursing through you. The kiss grew more intense, full of passion and need, as your hands became tangled in his hair, pulling him impossibly closer.

As your fingers tangled in his hair and he continued to kiss and bite at your neck, an unexpected moan escaped your lips. You tried to bite your lip to hold it back, but the sensation of his lips against your skin was too overwhelming to contain. This only fueled Javier's desire, and he let out a low growl in response, one hand on your hips and the other one on you inner thigh pulling your right leg up to his waist.

A shiver ran down your spine as Javier's breath tickled your ear, his hot whispered words sending a thrill of pleasure through your body. "I forgot one thing," he murmured, his teeth gently biting down on your sensitive earlobe. "I love when you moan for me."

His body was still pressed against you, pinning you to the wall, and you could feel the effect your moan had on him, the tension and desire in the air palpable.

Just as Javier's lips were about to descend onto yours once more, the sound of an unwelcome voice called your name, breaking the spell. You both froze as the door handle turned, the wood moving just a fraction before it swung open.

Connie stood in the doorway, her eyes widening in surprise as she took in the scene before her.

"What are you doing - oh my god," she gasped, quickly shutting the door again.

Javier takes a few steps back running his hand through his hair as you smoothed your dress. “Connie?” you ask behind the door and open it seeing her holding your drink. “I… I took a little longer to grab your drink and then i was gonna hand it to you but you weren’t there anymore so i looked for you and-” She spoke nervously trying to process the moment she had just seen. “Ok hm thanks for it by the way” you grab the drink from her hands taking a sip before looking quickly at Javier.

“It’s almost midnight by the way” Connie says leaving the library.

You felt a pair of warm, strong hands gently gripping your waist from behind. Javier's hot breath sent a shiver down your spine as he leaned in close, his lips ghosting over the sensitive flesh of your neck.

"Come on, I want another reason to kiss you," he murmured, his voice low and seductive.

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Self Control.

Javi keeps refusing himself what he wants. One night puts everything into perspective.

Pairing - Javier Peña x female reader

Age Rating - 18+

Warnings - Cursing, mentions of blood and death

Word Count - 3429

Author's Note - hello lovely people, hope you're all well. i've been a huge fan of pedro pascal since his narcos days, so all of this love for him happening currently is making me very happy. javier peña is perhaps my favourite tv character of all time, so i'm very excited to share this story with you. i'd always love to write more javi stuff, so if you ever have any thoughts, please send them my way. i'm happy to write for all pedro characters actually!! as always, much love x

Masterlist. Requests.

It wasn't supposed to go like this. 

It was supposed to be simple. A routine raid. Get the information and go. 

How did it all go so wrong? 

Gunshots. Blood. A sea of green uniforms scattering the ground. Escobar had somehow known about it. He was taking no prisoners. 

The Search Bloc had lost men. The Colombian Police had lost men. You were just praying that you hadn't. 

Javier Peña and Steve Murphy were still out there. You had no idea if they were okay. They could be shot, bleeding out. Kidnapped. Or worse. 

No. 

You're driving yourself insane thinking of all the possible worse case scenarios. Your mind can't help but go there. It's instinct. 

You're sat waiting. Hoping. Praying. You've made your home at Javi and Steve's desks - they're more central to the action than your own. You're watching the front doors, sat in Javi's chair. It smells like cigarette smoke, and musk, and him. You let the familiar scent envelope you, allowing it to bring you comfort. You breathe him in. He'll be here soon. You know he will.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Javier Peña was a complicated man. An enigma. He was tough, but gentle. Rugged, but tender. Commanding, but reserved. He was one big juxtaposition. Impossible to read. 

Or so he thought. 

You came along, and challenged every single one of his existing beliefs. You turned him soft - more understanding, more empathetic. He'll tell you he hates it. He lies. 

You weren't supposed to be here. Not really. You'd followed your brother, a DEA agent, all the way from Texas to Colombia. He'd told you he was being sent to South America to assist with the Pablo Escobar situation, and you'd packed your bags without a second thought. You had no one else. Wherever he goes, you go. Except one place. 

He'd died two months into the job. Shot dead by Escobar's men, in a situation that he shouldn't have even been in. And all of a sudden, you were alone. Alone in an unfamiliar place. Alone in the world. 

Javier made sure that wasn't true. He took you under his wing like an injured baby bird, slowly but surely nursing you back to health. He'd been there, when Carrillo had told you the fate of your brother. He'd caught you in his arms when your knees had given out, held you like he was scared you were going to shatter into a thousand pieces. He was holding you together. He has been, ever since. 

You were just a secretary. The odd one out. The only woman. Looked down on. People pitied you, really. You heard the things they said. Even if you didn't understand, you heard. You could take a guess. 

The world was a terrifying place for a woman. It was a terrifying place in general. But it seemed to be less scary knowing that Javier and Steve were at their desks just across the precinct every day. Your safety blankets. Your protectors. Which is exactly why the thought of losing either of them was currently ripping you apart from the inside out.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Your eyes shot up every time the door opened. Slowly but surely, members of the Search Bloc filtered in - many of them bloody, and injured, but alive. You weren't taking your eyes off the entrance to the precinct. Not for a second. Not when any minute, Peña and Murphy could walk in, and everything would be okay again. Any minute now, you reassure yourself. Any minute now. 

You hear steel toe boots on the linoleum floor, and your breath hitches… but it’s Colonel Carrillo. He spots you from across the room and strides over, ignoring any pleas for his attention from the Search Bloc guys. He envelopes you in a hug - professionalism be damned.

“Are you okay?”, you ask when he pulls back. “What happened? I’ve been going insane listening over the radio.”

“I’m okay, mi amor. We’re still trying to figure out what went wrong. He knew, someone had to have told him.”

You’re just about to ask him about Murphy and Peña when he says,

“We got separated in the chaos. I don’t know where they are, but I’m sure they’re fine. Try not to panic, okay?”

He’s looking at you carefully, and you’re nodding, but you know you aren’t going to take his advice. If anything, now you’re panicking more. Men are filtering through the door every minute, but none of them are the two you’re looking for. Anxiety creeps into your stomach, wraps its claws around your insides. You can’t shake it. You feel like you’re being swallowed by dread - it’s all too familiar. You know exactly what it’s like to have someone you love go into the field and not return.

Carrillo strokes your cheekbone with his thumb gently, and leaves to attend to his men. You sit back down in Javi’s chair, trying to burrow into his scent, the warmth of the leather. You can imagine his big strong arms wrapping themselves around you, the way he nuzzles his nose into the crown of your head when he hugs you, how he traces patterns on your back when he holds you when you’re particularly upset. 

You think about Steve, and the way he winks at you when you catch eye contact across the room, or how he throws an arm around your shoulders whenever he sidles over to your desk to bother you. He’s always stealing candy from your top drawer, and then acting innocent when you call him out on it. You feign annoyance, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. You know you’re lucky to have the two of them looking out for you. You know you’re lucky to have Carrillo on your side too - life would be undoubtedly more difficult without his protection. They make you feel less vulnerable, more equal. You no longer feel like a lamb at the slaughter every time you walk into work. 

Drops of water hit your lap, and you realize you’re crying. Warm, wet tears slide down your cheeks, taking streaks of your mascara with them. Your lipstick has smudged where you’ve been peeling at the skin of your lips, and your nail polish has been incessantly picked at for hours. You know you look just as much of a mess on the outside as you feel on the inside. You close your eyes, and take a deep breath. Calm down, you tell yourself. You’d know if something bad had happened to them. You’d feel it. 

It’s as if time has become molten - sticky, warm molasses. Minutes feel like hours. The world is moving in slow motion, and it’s making you dizzy. Your breath is coming in short, sharp pants, and the urge to curl up into a ball grows stronger by the second. If the boys don’t show up soon, you’re convinced you’re going to crumble into a thousand pieces. You feel like you’re shattering, splitting apart at the seams. Fear sits on your chest like an ugly, relentless creature, choking you with each passing minute. The world is getting colder, darker, and you’re defenseless.

And just like that, your sun appears. Battered, bruised, bloody, but alive. Standing in the doorway, panting and breathless, is Javier Peña. Before you can register what’s happening, you’re leaping out of his chair, and practically running to close the distance between you. You collide with the solid mass of a man, and he wraps his arms around you like it’s second nature. He smells like cigarettes and musk and gunpowder and the outdoors and smoke and home. Relief fills your body, and the weight of it almost knocks you off your feet. You settle further into his chest like you belong there, pressing your nose into him and inhaling. 

You pull away, and notice that his chest is damp. The tears from before are back with a vengeance, sprinting their way down your cheeks, forming puddles wherever they can reach. You’re not sure if you’re crying due to happiness, or fear, or relief - perhaps a mixture of all three. You’re both still panting, looking at each other in disbelief. You fist your hands into the front of his shirt, as if to ground yourself to him. Checking he’s real. In the flesh.

“Don’t cry, cariño. I’m here. I’m okay. We’re okay.” 

He’s murmuring quietly to you, as if you’re the only two people in the room. He reaches out, and gently uses his thumbs to swipe away the tears that are still escaping. Cradling your face in his big, calloused hands, he looks at you earnestly.

“I’ll always come back, bonita. You know I will. Just like I promised.”

He presses his forehead to yours, and for the first time in hours, you relax. You stay pressed together like that for what feels like an eternity, until you hear familiar footsteps approaching. 

You break away from Javier to get a good look at Steve. He too is battered and bruised - hair mussed, shirt torn, blood staining his jeans and his hands. But he’s alive. That’s all that matters.

“Murphy,” you breathe, before wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. You’d go out there and take down Escobar yourself if you could. If it meant you didn’t have to see your friends in pain anymore. This job is killing you all from the inside out, slowly but surely. You’re all shells of yourselves. You wonder how much longer you’re all going to be able to cope before you snap. You have a feeling that these two men in front of you are closer to their breaking points than you think. 

“God, I need to shower. I’ve never sweat this much in my life,” Steve remarks, and now that you’re looking at him, you can’t help but agree. You nod, smirk etched on your face, and the corners of his lips turn up. A slight smile from Steve. That’s a win.

A voice rumbles from behind you in response to Murphy’s statement. Jesus, Javi was closer to you than you thought.

“Yeah, me too. You go. I’ll drive her home.” He places a hand on the small of your back, and you can feel the warmth of him seeping through his palm.  He always runs so hot, you think to yourself. Your sun.

Murphy squeezes your arm and heads out the door, leaving you and Javier standing in the middle of the precinct. Everyone seems to be heading home, the room becoming increasingly quiet. You figure the two of you should follow suit. You gesture at Javi to give you a minute, and make your way over to the Colonel’s office, popping your head in the doorway. 

“You should go home, Carrillo,” you say softly. “You need to sleep just as much as the rest of us.”

He smiles at you tentatively, his face dampened with worry. You can see clear as day that he’s blaming himself for the events of the evening. You also know that there’s nothing you can say to make it better.

“I will, querida. I will.”

And with that, you grab your things from your desk, and make your way over to where Javi is waiting for you. He returns his hand to the small of your back, and guides you to his car.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Your hands are shaking when you try to unlock the front door to your apartment. You can’t quite get the key in the lock, and it’s becoming frustrating. Why are you acting like you were the one being shot at tonight? All you had to do was sit at your desk and wait. Get a grip, you tell yourself. You’ve had it the easiest.

Javi can see you’re struggling, so he reaches out and opens the door for you. You step inside, immediately kicking off your heels and throwing down your purse. You turn on the lamp in the corner of the living room, and draw the blinds. All the while, Javi stands in the doorway, watching you complete your nightly rituals. It’s disarming to see you like this, he thinks. So domestic. So at peace.

He clears his throat awkwardly, and places his hand on the doorknob.

“Let me leave you alone, cariño. You need to rest. The adrenaline of tonight is going to wear off any minute, and we’re all gonna crash.”

He takes a step, but you lunge forward in his direction to stop him.

“Wait! Wait. I - I don’t… I can’t - please.” You can’t find the right words. In fact, you’re not even sure what you’re asking for.

He steps back inside your apartment, and shuts the door behind him gently, making sure to lock the deadbolt. He’s never been a man to take stupid chances when it comes to your safety. When it comes to you.

“What is it, mi amor?”, he asks carefully. “What do you need?”

“You,” you answer without a second thought. “Please don’t leave. I don’t think I’ll sleep tonight if you leave.”

He looks at you for a moment - carefully surveying. He takes in your appearance, the pain in your eyes, the way you look so small and fearful standing in front of him. It’s not even a question.

He kicks off his boots, and takes his wallet and his cigarettes out from the back pocket of his jeans, placing them on the counter. Then, he strides over, across the room, and smothers you in a hug that he’s convinced he probably needs more than you. 

You stand like that, embraced in each other, for what feels like forever. Two people breathing each other in, trying to absorb the other person. If you could crawl into Javier’s chest, bury yourself into his ribcage, you would. No hug is ever close enough. Never enough. It’s never enough.

“I’ll stay,” he murmurs into your hair. “I’ll always stay.”

You pull back to gaze into those big brown eyes, warm and sweet like chocolate. He looks serene, peaceful, almost. You don’t get to see him like this very often.

“You should shower,” you tell him quietly. You’re worried that you’re going to spook one another, so you both keep the volume to a minimum. “I’ll make us some tea.”

He nods gently, and makes his way to your bathroom. Moments later, you hear the water running, so you begin to boil the kettle, reaching for two mugs from your cabinet.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You place a mug of tea on each nightstand either side of your bed, and slip out of your skirt and blouse. You opt for a tank top and shorts - the Colombian heat still unrelenting, even in the early hours of the morning. The sun will be up soon, you think. A new day.

Javi stands in the doorway of your bathroom with a towel slung low on his hips. Droplets of water are journeying down his chest, and your eyes follow, as if on instinct. He smirks when he catches you, watching your face heat up slightly.

“Cute bedsheets,” he remarks. “I like the love hearts.”

He’s still smirking, so you get up to smack him on the arm.

“Shut up, Javier,” you threaten, with no real malice. “Your tea is on the nightstand.”

You turn your back when he changes back into his black boxers, which only amuses him further. He can’t help but admire you from his place across the room. The way your hair blows slightly with the breeze from the opened window, the band of skin between where your tank top ends and your shorts begin, the sweat at the nape of your neck. He knows you’d taste like salt and sugar simultaneously. It takes everything in him not to run his tongue up your spine. You shiver from your spot on the edge of the bed, as if you can read his mind.

“I’m dressed, querida,” he almost whispers. You turn around, and shamelessly let your eyes rake over his golden skin, wishing so badly to reach out and touch him. He’s wearing significantly less clothes than you expected. Not that you’re complaining.

He lays down carefully on one side of your bed, stretching himself out on his back. You turn off the lamp on the nightstand, and lay down on the other side, careful to keep some distance between the two of you. You thought that having him here would relax you, but it seems to be doing the opposite. You feel like your nerve endings are on fire - the room is too warm, you can’t seem to get your lungs to fill with air, you’re hyper aware of every little movement in the room. You’re on edge.

Javi’s breathing is deep, calculated. He’s trying to keep calm. Everything in him is screaming to reach out and touch you, to throw an arm around your waist, to tangle his legs in between yours. He’s not sure he’s ever shown this level of self control.

“Javi,” you breathe. “Relax, please. I can feel how tense you are from here.”

He takes a deep breath before he answers you.

“Sorry, mi vida. I’m just - I’m… I’m trying.”

“Trying?”

“Trying to use every inch of restraint that I have.”

Your breath hitches, and he hears it, clear as day.

“What for?” you whisper.

“To resist the urge to touch you.”

You’re breathing quicker now, and so is he. The air in the room is thick with tension - it’s a miracle you’re both still conscious. 

“You’ve never really been one to deny yourself of the things you want, Javi," you whisper. "You’re not usually the patron saint of self control.” 

And with that, he snaps. He grabs your hips, and uses effortless strength to pull you so you’re straddling him, settled in his lap. He sits up to bring your faces level, and presses his forehead into yours, just like he did mere hours ago in the precinct. 

You know that tonight has changed everything for the two of you. You also know there’s no going back from this - you can’t uncross this line. The friendship that exists between you and Javi, a relationship that’s been so carefully built on trust and support and boundaries - permanently altered if you continue. You just can’t seem to find it in you to care. Not really. You want Javier Peña for all he is, all he has. Consequences be damned.

“I love you, cariño,” he breathes into your mouth. “Fuck, I love you.”

You’re convinced that any minute, you’re going to wake up from this beautiful dream. But for now, you make the most of it.

“I love you, Javier Peña. I love you so much it hurts.”

And with that, he’s kissing you. It’s desperate, and it’s needy, and it’s so full of love you’re worried that you’re going to pass out. His lips are on your lips, and he’s got one hand firmly at the nape of your neck, holding you in place. As if I’m going anywhere, you think. I’d happily stay here forever.

You’re so lost in each other that you don’t notice the sunrise. Dawn hits the window, casting an orange hue across the room. Javi looks like he’s glowing, the sunlight glinting off his hair. Golden boy.

He pulls off your shirt, and presses his chest to yours. He’s convinced you’re tethered to each other - he can feel the connection through your skin. It almost makes him want to cry, this feeling. It’s never felt like this before. It never will again. 

You wrap your arms around his neck, and your legs around his waist, ensuring that there isn’t a centimeter of space between you. You don’t know what today holds. You know it won’t be easy. But you’re comforted by the fact that you know Javi will be right there beside you. No matter what happens from this moment on, Javi is always going to be right there beside you.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” you breathe into his mouth.

“I love you, mi alma,” he breathes back. “Mi corazón, mi alma.”

My heart, my soul. It’s as if he took the words right out of your mouth. 

Mi corazón, mi alma.

My heart, my soul.

[jolalibrary]

iv. before the gold and glimmer

javier peña x f!reader | chapter four of late night texts

summary: It's the year 2000. Javi is minding his own business on the porch of his pop's ranch when a text from an unknown number vibrates his phone. The only problem is, no one knows he has a phone and no one has his number.

chapter warnings: fluff. flirting. continuous romcom vibes. an: i adore each of you who are coming along this weird and wonderful journey, we're getting closer, i promise. wordcount: 2.5k.

text key: bold is you/reader | italics is javi

I’ll be home in an hour.

I’ll be ready 

Are we going to do the crossword tonight or are you going to spend an hour flirting?

too early to comment

I’m bringing my A game. 

to flirt with me? baby you flatter me 

No. Crosswords, you fucking flirt.

hermosa did you just swear at me 

I did. Now I have to concentrate, stop distracting me. 

Javi is aware that his pop is thinking things. 

Has been since the phone conversations began. The ones initially having slotted in when the house was empty. Quiet. Just him and his thoughts banging around, occasionally punctured by him pressing the keys on his phone until the phone rang.

Now, the phone calls have bled out into quick chats on other nights (Javi’s hand over his mouth, trying to muffle a laugh). He’s caught sight of his pop’s smirk more than once.

He’s very aware that he hasn’t helped things by dropping your name into conversations.

Accidentally, at first.

Then just accepting his fate and embracing it. Talking about you as if you’re this fully fleshed thing in front of him—mentioning the news thing you’d heard, something funny you’d said. 

He even mentioned you to Murphy. Again, not on purpose. 

Steve was quick. Picking up on it immediately in their latest monthly catch-up where usually Javi listens to how amazing, disruptive and yet tiring kids are—how Miami would be good for him, and that Connie misses him. This time it segwayed suddenly into, and who might she be then, Jav? 

It had crossed his mind to play it down. To conceal you—because a part of him suspects he should hate all of it.

Before, he had always preferred secrecy. Kept the women he had been seeing behind lock and key. Partially due to the nature, the risk—now, though, he thinks he just doesn’t want to share. 

Doesn’t want to taint it. Selfishly wanting to keep you all to himself, his slice of happiness that no one can dull.

It also aids in holding himself back from falling over the cliff, tumbling into ruin because he let himself get ahead of himself. 

Feel too much, too quick, because Javi didn’t even know what you looked like. Hadn’t eyed you up across a bar, hadn’t spotted you in the aisle of the store.

You’d stumbled into his life.

No reason, no real cause or explanation, and now he’s not entirely sure as to why he feels the amount he does. That he cares, that he likes you. How that when he talks to you, he feels only happy, content and joy—like he could do and be anything.

You provide the key to the semblance of normalcy he’s been longing for. Liking what others would think is mundane, like about your day. Now he longs for it all face to face, where he can read your face instead of dissecting your voice. 

She’s just someone I’ve been talking to. Don’t—don’t even know her, really.  You knew all the others well before? Fuck off, Murphy.  Just sayin’, sometimes, shit just don’t make sense, Jav. 

Steve says it as though it answers all his problems. 

Like he thinks the words will make all the pieces click into place, suddenly cemented and real—all understood and no longer complex. 

But it’s all still very much messy—a tangling of feelings that ready exist and more which threaten to come.

In truth, he doesn’t mind the complications of it all. He just thinks it’s best to protest it a little. Pretend he hasn’t abandoned all logic just because someone made him smile and feel a little less broken.

Because he knew, just like those around him, that he was done for. 

It all perfectly evidenced by the fact he doesn’t mind when his pop begins giving him one of those smirks more often than not—the ones surrounded by wiry white hair, partnered with a knowing look on his face. The same conversation circling, the one that’s been going on for days now—

“When the two of you meeting?”  “I don’t know, pop.”  “You made plans to see her yet?” “No, pop.”  “You should go see her. You need a break.” “Pop.” 

At some stage, his pop stops beginning it—challenging him. Now he just signals the words with a look. One he assumes parents are given when their child enters the world—the one that is part knowing and part ‘you know you’re going to do what I’m saying, anyway’.

Javi hates that more than he hates the rest of the situation. 

Because his pop isn’t wrong. He wants to see you, watch your expressions instead of imagining them. 

Not just to see what you look like, but so that he can see how you react when he says certain things. Whether you scrunch your nose or your lips curl before you smile; whether you hide your face when he embarrasses you, or whether you fold your arms and pout. 

Each time the two of you text or call, he thinks it—wants to bring it up and ask.

A need in him growing, in the same way his feelings do. Multiplying, quivering in his bones when you laugh, and it travels straight to his heart—making it swell and bloom. Filling the expanse of his chest until he isn’t sure he can feel any more happiness. 

Picking up the phone on the first ring, he hears your usual chirpy hey, which he follows with his now usual: “Hey baby.” 

“¿Cómo estás, Javi?”

“Ay, you’ve been practising.” 

Hearing you laugh makes him smile. Unknots the stresses of the day from him as he pulls the chair over—sitting on it as his head rests against the wall. 

“I purchased a Spanish for kids book, so that’s my skill level.” 

Smirking, he rolls his lips. “You trying for me?” 

“Sí.”

Snorting, he rubs the bridge of his nose. “Eres tan linda, baby.” 

“I know the last word means darling.” 

“I said you are very cute.” 

You pause, a shuffling sound coming from your side of the phone before the softest of sighs. “You’re making me blush, again.” 

“You make it too easy.” 

“Stop,” you say, all fake warning and all likely accompanied by a cute smile, “How’s your day been—tell me you got a splinter in your ass?” 

Smirking, he slumps further into the chair, legs spread, spare hand resting on his thigh. “Starting to think you only talk to me for my body.”

The laugh you let out is closer to a howl, and his cheeks hurt from hearing it—his grin so large, it doesn’t fade for hours. 

apprehensive feeling, 5 

Come on, Javi. 

I think it may be angst 

If I were there I’d kiss your cheek. 

I know you mean that in a nice way but it feels demeaning 

Oh no I meant it as the latter. 

is that how we’re being

You tell me. 

paris divider, 5 

Seine. You ever been to Paris?

no have you 

Not yet. 

not yet? 

Well there’s always time. Heard it’s a romantic place to go.

maybe if you were nicer someone would take you 

You make a good point. 

things go ok this morning

Not like I wanted but not the worst. I can apply but they’re playing the experience card again. 

bullshit, you ok

I will be. Thank you for checking in on me. 

you can tell me if youre not yknow

I just need to destress is all. It’s like talking to a fucking wall sometimes.

fuck I love it when you swear 

Javi, stop. 

do you really want me to 

No. But you’re making my face burn. 

bet you look real pretty getting embarrassed 

I actually do not, so you should stop so you don’t inflict the face on others. 

I don’t believe you

Maybe one day you’ll see it for yourself so you can believe me 

wish one day was today 

Why would you destress me? 

baby I’d make sure you couldn’t even think the word stress never mind feel it 

You confident in that? 

youll have to find out

Something was different in the air the moment he woke up. 

Things went far easier than they normally would. No one tried to bowl him over during feeding. The fence he went to check on didn’t look all that bad—and there wasn’t even a queue when he visited the homeware store for pop. 

There also wasn’t a rain cloud in the sky.

And it put him on edge. 

His gut—the one he had relied on to take down the narcos—flared back to life. It could be a good day, a once-in-a-blue moon, a blessing in a sea of disguise. 

But rationality didn’t stop him from checking over his shoulder, do a final sweep of the land. 

It had been like that when he’d first gotten back. All on edge, finding it difficult to settle. He had smoked back then, worse than he had done when he’d been over in Colombia. It’s why he’d chosen to quit.

Now, he rotated the phone between his finger and thumb, feeling it vibrate against his palm, checking if it was you before he allows the smile—the one you pull from him by just texting him—blossom. 

So I have good news and I have bad news lead with the bad first I can’t call you on Thursday night

His heart drops, plummets. 

A part of him knew something bad was around the corner. Taking in your text, over and over. Checking he understood it as he climbed the stairs up the porch. 

Javi rolls his head on his neck, staring up—the flies around the porch light buzzing away as he tries to compose himself. 

Somehow always knowing that deep down, this day would come. His mind is too quick to act, abruptly busy with conjuring thoughts. That old analytical part of him whirs back to life as it tries to make heads or tails of the situation in front of him, as though it was a case.

Because he suspects that your good news is that you have a date—someone you’ve seen face to face and has swept you off your feet. A person who will take you away from him because he can’t offer you that.

Plus, you don’t even know him.

Not really. 

He’s just this person you text. 

This person he feels…

well fuck. The good news best be the best news ever I think it is. Don’t tease me Says you, baby.

Baby?

It takes him a second. 

The four letters blowing all the conjured theories well and truly out of the water. 

His eyes trace over the letters, even after he’s sent the reply. Javi’s heart suddenly in his throat, pulse in his ear—the blood banging around. 

Shut up. Anyway I can’t call you because I’ll be on an early flight in the morning to Houston. Work needs me to check out some odd sales. You’ll be in Texas? Yeah. So the good news is, if you meant what you said, we could meet in person.

He swallows, spine straightening—posture suddenly pristine, making the muscles in his back ache from the day as they flex and tighten under his shirt. 

You want to meet him. 

Or he thinks. 

Not wanting to read between the lines—needing the confirmation, to hear you say it. His shirt begins to cling to his back, hair falling over his forehead as sweat grows, strands of hair being grasped against his skin.

You want to meet me? Of course, I’m the one suggesting it. But if you don’t, that’s fine. I mean, I’ll begin judging how lonely you actually are if you don’t. But it’s fine.

His thumbs aren’t quick enough. 

Each text firing in—and he wishes, more than he usually does, that he could be there with you. Clutch your cheek, assure you, make you breathe—

baby breathe. I want to meet you, I do But? but nothing

Even if there is. 

There seems like there’s a but

Javi doesn’t mean to, but he laughs. 

Somehow, miles away—you can already read him. Know him. His thumb massaging his nose, wrist hiding his smile from the world. 

I’m nervous about the fact you could see me and never want to speak to me again You think I’m that shallow? No. It’s just you’ve been the best thing about my day in a long, long time, hermosa Call me. it’s late isn’t it Javi. 

He moves, the chair he had been on almost toppling over as he opens the storm door and then the next. Moving into the kitchen, not even needing to pull your number up. He knows it. 

It’s burned into him. 

The receiver meets his ear as you answer in record time as your voice greets his ears. Followed by a sigh when he greets you in a low-whisper.

“Javi, I feel the same.” 

He swallows. “Yeah?” 

Silence greets him before you do a soft laugh. That little one he’s begun noticing you do when you later tell him you’ve just nodded or shrugged—forgetting he can’t see down the phone. 

“I wanted you to call so you could hear it. That I want to meet you because I can’t stop thinking about you. And that might be insane, and odd. But… I like you. I feel things.” 

“I know,” he says, pressing his forehead against the wall—eyes closing, hand tightening around the phone. “I like you, too.” 

Javi hears it. The discernible way you relax. 

It comes across in the way you take a breath, in the way he suddenly feels his own shoulders slide from his ears. 

“But if it’s too soon, I can use some time off—“

“No, cariño. No. I… I want to. I’ll be there.” 

You swallow—loud in the silence. Almost clunky. “I’m scared too.” 

Opening his eyes, he stares at the peeling paint. Something running over him, from his head to his feet. It whispers to relax, to breathe—allowing him fully to do both. 

“You could… I don’t know, see me and find I don’t match the image of me you’ve created. Or, find me horribly boring. Or that I’m actually the strangest person. It’s scary. I’m scared too.” 

He nods, smiling to himself. “I’ll pick you up from the airport.”

“You don’t have to—“

“Baby.” It silences you, and the thought makes him smile. “I’ll pick you up from the airport, okay?”

It takes a beat. 

A full ten seconds. 

“We’re going to meet,” you say softly, almost wistfully. 

And it cracks then, a smile. A real one. His usual one. Turning on the spot, pressing his back against the wall, head meeting it as he lets the grin spread into his cheeks, almost to his eyes if his thumb and finger didn’t begin rubbing them. 

“We’re gonna meet,” he replies.

Opening his eyes, seeing the noticeable flicker of the television—its shimmering light flittering through the doorway, illuminating his pop, who is standing smiling at him. 

AN: remember, if you wish to see the deleted 18+ scene for the birthday bash, be sure to check back on 8th of July, otherwise see you next Tuesday 

next ->

[jennaispunk]

Just Another Saturday Night....

Note: Happy Valentine's Day Ali @pedgito. I'm your Space Sisters secret Valentine!!! I hope you enjoy it!

Summary: Javi invites himself to help you babysit for Steve and Connie on Valentine's Day. What happens between you is completely unexpected.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Warnings/Tags: fluff, sexual tension, kissing, touching, Valentine's Day, friends to lovers, language (Javi, who else?), brief smoking, brief alcohol consumption, mutual pining, no significant age gap, brief use of Spanish, Javi and reader work in the same building but aren't co-workers. Reader understands Spanish, Reader is shorter than Javi and has hair long enough to tuck behind her ear, no other physical description of reader is given. The photos in the moodboard are for aesthetic only.

Word Count: ~5.5k

Other notes: This is my first published fic so please be nice! I am beyond nervous about putting this out there.

Special Thanks to @sawymredfox for the amazing moodboard, @beefrobeefcal for your advice, and @fallingforthearch for beta reading and squealing about this with me.

Divider by @saradika-graphics

It seemed everyone in this damn building was talking about their plans for Valentines Day. Everyone except for you. Today was just a normal Thursday. You shook your head, trying to clear your mind as you made your way through the bustle of the DEA headquarters. There was no use in giving it any more thought. Love was overrated anyway, right? You dropped off some paperwork to the director’s secretary and headed back to your own desk in the Embassy. The clacking keys of typewriters and sharp ringing of telephones hummed around you as you crossed the room, and you narrowly avoided a collision with an agent with his head stuck in file.  The sound of your name being called across the bullpen made you stop in your tracks.

You scanned the room to see Steve Murphy, smiling at you from his office door. You smiled warmly in return and made your way over to him. Steve and his wife Connie had welcomed you with open arms when you first arrived in Colombia. They had taken you under their wing and the three of you had become close over the last 6 months, frequently sharing dinners at their apartment with their adopted daughter, Olivia, and occasionally Steve’s partner, Javier Peña.

Javi….he was always an enigma to you. He was handsome and a shameless flirt. He was quick with a line and a smile, and he used it to his advantage. There wasn’t a woman that worked in this building that hadn’t been subjected to his charms, and you were no exception. Of course, you had a thing for him. How could you not, with his aquiline nose and pouty lips that just begged to be kissed.  You’d spent enough time with him to know him pretty well, but he held you at arm’s length, never letting you get too close. He seemed content to keep it that way and you let him. It’s not like you actually had a chance with him anyway.

“Hey Steve, what’s up?” You studied him as he grinned at you in that goofy way he always did. That smile reminded you of your brother and it made you miss him. Maybe you should call him and check in.

“I need a huge favor.” he asked with a soft smile.

You groaned softly. You hoped Connie wasn’t trying to set you up on another blind date. The last one was an absolute disaster.

“I don’t like the sound of this.” Your eyes narrowed. “What did you do this time?”

He chuckled and crossed his arms across his chest. “I didn’t do anything. I need a babysitter on Saturday. I was able to score reservations at that new restaurant downtown for Valentine’s Day. Connie’s been dying to try it since they opened, and I thought that it would be a nice surprise for her.”

You chuckled softly. “And you thought that your little spinster friend would be free on the most romantic night of the year?”

“You just haven’t mentioned any one special lately, so I thought you’d be free.” He cocked his head. “Why are you calling yourself a spinster, anyway? You’re gorgeous.”

The familiar combination of cigarette smoke and aftershave hit your nostrils before you saw him, and your breath hitched. Steve’s eyes darted over your shoulder, and you followed his gaze. “Ain’t that right, Javi?” The turquoise button-down shirt and tight dark wash jeans accentuated his biceps and his cinched waist. Javi appraised you, arching his brow and quickly raking up and down your body. “Sure, you’re at least a 7, princess.” He teased in the way only he could, flashing you that grin that made your knees weak. Your hands curled into fists at your sides.

Princess. That word single handedly made your blood boil and your stomach flip at the same time.

“Thanks, Javi.” you shot back, rolling your eyes.  He moved closer to Steve’s office door, crowding you with his broad frame. “What are you two talking about anyway?”

“I’m trying to get our friend here to babysit for me and Connie on Saturday.” Steve grinned, his puppy dog eyes staring you down.

“I’ll babysit for you.” You said. “I’d love to spend some time with Olivia.”

Javi wasted no time and butted in. This was his chance to get you alone and he was going to take it.

Javi smiled, his eyes dancing. “Why don’t I join you? I don’t have any plans for V-day either. What’d ya say, princess? Want some company for babysitting duty?”

Your words failed you and you just looked at him, your eyes wide.  His chocolate chip eyes stared down at you, waiting for you to speak.

“Ummm….” You stammered, your nails digging into your palms. “Sure. Why not?”

He gave you a crooked grin and nothing else.

“What time do you need me?” Your head swiveled back to Steve.

“Six o’clock?”

“I’ll be there.” You flashed a quick smile and turned on your heels.

“See ya then, princess.” Javi shouted to your retreating form.

You knocked on the apartment door at 5:50 pm, tapping your foot rhythmically as you wait. Olivia’s laughter seeped through the door and the tension drained from your shoulders. Connie’s smiling face greeted you a moment later. “Thank you so much for watching Liv for us.”

“It’s no problem at all. You know I love spending time with her.” You smiled warmly at her and walked over to the couch, making yourself comfortable. “You look amazing, by the way. You’re going to have to let me borrow that dress sometime.”

Steve came around the corner bouncing Olivia in his arms while she laughed. The sight made your chest tighten. “Look who’s here, Liv.” The little girl gave you the biggest smile and you stood to take her from her father’s arms.

“We’re going to have a lot of fun tonight, huh?”

Olivia giggled and grabbed for your necklace.

You and Connie chatted idly, while Steve headed into the kitchen. A knock on the door interrupted the conversation.

“Hey, Javi!” Steve ushered him into the living room.

Javi’s eyes settled on you, his hands clenching into fists then relaxing. His chin jutted forward almost imperceptibly. Even in a simple T-shirt and jeans, you still managed to make him want you even though he knew he shouldn’t.

Why did he have to wear that plaid shirt? You thought to yourself as he sat down in the armchair adjacent to the couch. The red and white plaid shirt stretched across the broad expanse of his shoulders. Your heart began to beat a little bit faster, and you bit the inside of your cheek.

“Babe…. we’d better head out or we’re going to be late.” Connie stood and you watched as Steve helped Connie with her coat. He wrapped his arms around her from behind and nuzzled her neck. You sighed quietly and looked away.

“Have a great time.” You take Olivia’s hand to wave at her parents. “Bye Mommy and Daddy.”

Connie leaned down and kissed Olivia’s cheek. “Be good for your Auntie and Uncle.” She looked at you. “Call us if you need anything.”

“There’s beer in the fridge.” Steve said, his eyes darting between you and Javi. “You two behave yourselves. That’s a brand-new couch you’re sitting on.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

The click of the door latching echoed in your ears, making you painfully aware of the fact you and Javi were alone. The television droned in the background as the two of you looked at each other.

“I…” you both start. The sound of your combined nervous laughter made Olivia join in with her own forced laugh, breaking some of the awkward tension that had been building between you. Your eyes snap back to Javi as he clears his throat.

“You first.” His lips lift into a crooked grin.

“I was just going to say that I’m surprised that you were serious about babysitting with me tonight. I thought you’d have a hot date tonight.” He hadn’t mentioned that he had been seeing anyone lately, but maybe he was just keeping it quiet for now.

His throaty chuckle filled your ears. “Why would I want to shell out big bucks on Valentine’s Day when I get to have two pretty girls all to myself tonight?” He teased. His trademark smirk flashed across his face, but his eyes betrayed him with a softness that made the blood rush directly to your cheeks. His eyes flitted away from yours.

You opened your mouth to ask him what he was about to say but Olivia had other plans. She grabbed at your shirt and let out a whine. You realized she was probably hungry. Connie had told you she’d prepared Liv’s dinner and put it in the fridge. “You hungry, bug?” Her babbles confirmed your suspicions, and you sat her on the floor in front of her toys while you warmed up her dinner.

Although the night had started awkwardly, you and Javi settled into comfortable conversation. The pizza he’d ordered had just been delivered and you put Olivia in her highchair with her own dinner in front of her.

“The pizza here is good.” You told him as he took a bite of his slice, “but it’s got nothing on the pizza back home.”

His brow arched. “Oh yeah?”

You never talked about your home much. The subject never really came up in conversation between the two of you.

“Yeah.” You said with a smirk. “There’s this small pizza joint there…. It’s the best pizza in the world. I would fight anyone on that.”

The sound of his chuckle reverberated through your entire body and his eyes settled on you. “That’s pretty big talk, maybe I’ll have to try it sometime.” He finished his slice and wiped his hands on a napkin. “Anything else special about your hometown?”

You told him more about your hometown, and he told you about Laredo as you finished eating. Olivia, never one to sit still for long, voiced her impatience and you lifted her from her highchair.

“I’ll clean up.” he volunteered, causing you to raise your eyebrows.

“Don’t look so surprised.” he smirked.

You laughed and adjusted Olivia on your hip. “If you insist. Liv and I will be playing in the living room.”

You spread some toys out on the living room floor and sat Olivia down. You stretched out on the floor, stacking some blocks in a pyramid. Olivia babbled and knocked them down, causing you to laugh softly. The sound of his footsteps made you both look up at him. Olivia grabbed a block and held it out to him. “You want Uncle Javi to play? Say ‘Come play with me, Uncle Javi’” Your eyes drifted up to meet his, your eyes twinkling at the double meaning behind those words.

Javi’s hands immediately went to his hips, his left knee jutting out slightly. His eyes darkened as his tongue pressed against his cheek. His eyes darted to the floor then back at you. You smirked as he turned away, your confidence soaring at the fact that you’d managed to rattle him, even if it was only a little. “Maybe Uncle Javi needs a minute.”

Javi stood with his back to you, willing himself to calm down; He wasn’t a man to get flustered easily. The idea of playing with you made him hard. He thought about football…..the amount of paperwork on his desk….anything to stop thinking about you.

A few moments later, he spun back around with the cool, confident mask firmly back in place. He didn’t acknowledge what had just passed between you and you let it slide, not wanting to push your luck. He sat down on the floor with you and picked up a block, smiling at Olivia.

The three of you played on the floor, you and Javi taking turns with the blocks and watching Olivia squeal with delight as she knocked them down. You wondered if you would ever have this……the man and the baby. Maybe it wasn’t in the cards for you. Maybe you were always meant to be on the outside looking in.

Olivia’s yawn snapped you from your thoughts. You smiled as Olivia pouted and rubbed her eyes. “Looks like someone’s getting sleepy.” You sat up and gathered the little girl into your arms. “Let’s get you to bed, little one.” A warm feeling flowed through you as Olivia nestled her head into your shoulder. You cuddled her closer, relishing the feeling of someone needing you.

As you walked the hall to her room, she began to cry. Soft sobs filled your ears, and it broke your heart. “Hey, it’s okay babygirl.” You tried your best to soothe her as you bounced her lightly in your arms. Her sobs only grew louder as you paced her room, murmuring soft words into her ear. It seemed the more you tried, the louder she got. You tried everything you could think of, but nothing seemed to help. The sound of her cries made your stomach drop. You tried to think about what Connie would do if she were here as Olivia’s wails grew even louder. “I know I’m not your mama, but I’m trying kiddo.” Panic gripped you as you struggled to calm her. It shouldn’t be this hard to calm a crying baby, right? You couldn’t just let her continue to cry like this, you had to do something, but you were at a loss. Tears stung your eyes as you desperately racked your brain for the magical solution to your problem.

Javi silently watched you as struggled in vain to soothe Olivia. The nightlight in the corner cast a soft glow over you, highlighting your features in a way that made his breath catch in his throat. You looked beautiful holding a child in your arms, even if that child was currently wailing in your ear. It reminded him of a life he could have had if he had done things differently. A life that he still wanted but was afraid to reach for. He lived in a dangerous world, and he couldn’t ask someone, ask you, to sign up for that; but fuck if he didn’t want to.

“Do you think I could try?” Javi’s voice carried over the sound of Olivia’s cries. A wave of relief washed over you as you saw his unmistakeable frame leaning against the doorway.

“Please….” You said as you handed Olivia to him. “I’m out of ideas.”

“What seems to be the problem here, bebecita?” he cooed. “Did your auntie pinch you?” He chuckled softly at his own joke. Olivia wailed even louder, clearly not impressed by his attempt at humor.

You leaned against the wall as he paced the small room, bouncing the Olivia in his arms. He spoke to her softly, murmuring sweet words in Spanish. Olivia seemed to respond to him, her wails lessening in intensity. The tension you were holding in your shoulders began to slowly melt away and you closed your eyes.

“Duermete mi nino (sleep my child)…..duermete mi amor (sleep my love)…..” Javi crooned quietly.

Your eyes immediately snapped open. He was singing to her. Your chest tightened as the words of the lullaby floated to your ears. Holding a baby looks so good on him. The tenderness in his voice was unexpected and you ached to know that side of him. The image of Javi holding a child the two of you created danced in your head as he continued to sing slightly offkey. You tried to shake the image from your head, but it was no use, it was seared into your brain.

“Duermete pedazo de mi corazon (sleep little piece of my heart)….” Olivia was fast asleep on his shoulder by the time he finished the song. He gently laid her in her crib, covering her with a blanket. He looked to you, pressing a thick finger to his lips and motioned toward the door. The two of you quietly crept out of the room, closing the door behind you.

You couldn’t wipe the smile from your face as the two of you plopped down onto the couch.

“Why are you smiling like that?” He asked. His eyes held a look you’d never seen from him before.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, the heat rising to your cheeks. “What are you talking about?”

He smirked at you, making your face heat up even more. “You know exactly what I’m talking about, princess. What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

You looked away for just a moment before meeting his gaze again. “You were so good with her. Where did you learn to do that?” His smile made you want to lean in and kiss him, but you held back.

“I grew up in a large family, lots of cousins. There were always babies around.” His eyes fell to the floor. “My mom used to sing that song to me and my little sister when we were little.” The raucous melody of the cartoons you had on for Olivia cut sharply through the sudden shift in your conversation.

“It was a beautiful song.” You offer, not knowing exactly what to say. That was the most personal thing he’d ever shared with you. The silence lingered as you struggled to come up with the perfect thing to say to cut the tension in the room. “Even if it was offkey.”

His eyes jerked up to meet yours, his signature smirk plastered to his face. “You think you could do better?” he teased.  Laughter drowned out the din of the television. “Probably not.” You admitted.

You let go of a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Your heart raced a little bit faster at the realization of how close you came to confessing your feelings. Did you see something in his eyes before he looked away? You couldn’t be sure, and you certainly weren’t going to ask. You settled back into your seat on the couch and searched for the remote. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve had enough cartoons for a while.”

Javi’s large hand engulfed the remote as he held it up. “Found it.” You immediately reached for it, but he held it out of your grasp. “Finder’s keepers, princess.” he teased. “I’m choosing what we watch.”

Your bottom lip jutted out and you narrowed your eyes. For a split second, you contemplated trying to fight him for it, but your head won out in the end. Sinking back into the couch, you admitted defeat. “Fine” you pouted, “just don’t pick anything stupid, okay?”

He laughed, the sound filling your stomach with butterflies. The smirk plastered to his face as he started flipping channels.

“I’m grabbing a beer.” You stood from the couch, stretching your arms above your head. “You want one?”

You notice his eyes on you and quickly lowered your arms, suddenly aware that your shirt was riding up, giving him the perfect view of your stomach.

He noticed that you noticed, and he cleared his throat, dragging his eyes away from your body. “I’d love one, thanks.”

Javi let out a deep breath. He’d come so close to telling you how much he wanted you. He wanted to take you in his arms and show you just how deeply he felt for you. That was his plan when he showed up tonight, but now that he was so close to you; he was chickening out. He’d only hurt you in the end, he’d find a way to mess it up.

You returned with two cold beers, and you offer him a bottle. Your fingers brush against his, sending sparks through your body. Settling back into the couch, you tucked your legs under you and took a long drag from your bottle. The cool liquid slides down your throat easily as you try to focus your attention on the television. He finally settled on something and leaned back into the couch. His legs deliciously spread wide, dangerously close to yours despite the distance between you. The heat was radiating from his body, and you struggled to maintain your focus on the movie he chose.

The two of you watched in silence, drinking your beer. It’s comfortable in a strange way and you find yourself wanting more of this. Just being in each other’s presence, not needing words. You could almost imagine this being a normal evening at home, curled up next to him on the couch with your head on his shoulder.

His laugh snaps you from your thoughts. Your attention is drawn back to the movie and it’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever seen.

“You actually like this movie?” You grimace at the absurd scene on the screen.

“How can you not like this movie? It’s a goddamn classic!” He took a long drag from his beer and peered at you over the bottle.

Your brow furrowed. “That’s debatable, but whatever you say, Javi.”

“Just give it a chance, princess. It gets better, I promise.”

A playful scoff erupts from your lips. “It better or I’m never letting you pick the movie again.” The heat rises to your cheeks again. This isn’t a date and your eyes dart toward him to see his reaction. His eyes were focused on the screen, but his moustache twitched slightly. You bit your lip and prayed he wouldn’t say anything. He didn’t but you could’ve sworn he moved a little closer to you.

The credits had barely started to roll when you snatched the remote of his thigh. “My turn!” Your lips curve into a playful smirk as you point the remote at the television. He reached for the remote and you swat his hand away.

“Oh….so that’s how it’s going to be.” He smirked back at you.

You weren’t going to back down, even though you knew he could easily wrestle it away from you if he wanted. “Yep.” You responded; the cockiness dripped from the word.

His jaw twitched and his eyebrows raised. Without warning, he leaned forward and grabbed for the remote. You stopped him with a hand to his chest and tsked. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you to share?” she teased. His eyes narrowed as you laughed.

“You’re asking for it, princess…..I fight dirty.” A devilish smirk formed on his lips.

“Ooooh, I’m so scared.” You rolled your eyes knowing that the size difference between you meant you didn’t stand a chance but part of you wanted to see what he would do.

Without warning, he pounced. He reached out for the remote again and somehow you kept it just out of his reach. The sound of your laughter filled the room. His tongue darted out to wet his full lips and then he descended on you.

He grabbed you by the waist and tickled you. Your shriek pierced the silence, and you covered your mouth to keep from walking up Olivia. He was relentless as he leaned into you, pinning your back against the armrest, tickling you mercilessly. You pulled your hand away from your mouth, laughing and struggling to breathe.

“Javi, please….” you laugh as you squirmed in his grasp.

“Oh, now you want mercy?” he teased, tickling you even harder with a smirk on his face.

“Okay, okay. You win. I give up……I give up!” Your breath is ragged, and tears leak from your eyes from laughing so hard.

You suck in a deep breath as he finally stops tickling you, but he doesn’t move away. He had you caged in with his muscular arms.  He just stared at you, and you found it impossible to hold his intense gaze. You can feel the heat radiating from his body. His lips, so soft and full, were close enough to yours to feel his breath against your cheeks. His hand cupped your cheek and suddenly his lips were on yours. You froze, unable to process what was happening and he pulled back. His brow furrowed and his brown eyes searched your wide eyes.

“What are you doing?” You weakly croaked out.

Javi chuckled softly and smirked. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

Your face burns with heat. What an idiotic thing to say. Of course you know what he’s doing. What you want to know is why, but your pride keeps you from asking. You already knew the answer.

“Haven’t you noticed the way I flirt with you is different from the way I flirt with the other women at the office?” His voice is low and husky and for once he’s the one having a hard time keeping your gaze.

You shook your head slowly and your brows furrowed. Maybe you had noticed, but you thought it was because he could never possibly be interested in you romantically. You never let yourself entertain the thought of him wanting you in that way.

“It’s because you’re not like them, princess…. you’re different.” The corner of his mouth twitched into a crooked grin. He gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

You blinked rapidly, thinking that you’re imagining this. You’ve been wanting to hear these words for so long. Suddenly, it feels like all the air has been sucked out of the room and your lungs fight for oxygen.

“Javi….” He immediately cut you off with a finger to your lips.

His Adam’s apple bobbed, and he exhaled loudly through nose. He shouldn’t tell you this, but it’s too late. He’s already kissed you once and now he wants more; he’s too far gone.

“Just let me say this, please.” You watch his eyes close for a moment, then open again; His brown eyes intensely focused on you. “I have feelings for you, princess……. I want to give you everything.” His eyes narrow slightly. “Would you give me that chance?” His voice is pleading, bordering on desperate.

You nodded, too overwhelmed to speak. You had wanted this for so long and now it was finally happening. The slight hum from the baby monitor filled the room as you continued to stare at each other. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, his tongue darted out to wet his lips.

His thumb brushed your bottom lip as he looked into your eyes. Your skin tingled with the sensation, and you somehow resisted the urge to take the thick digit into your mouth and suck it. The rise and fall of your chest matched the pounding of your heart as he slowly leaned in and captured your lips with his.

His tongue touched your lips, and you parted them without a second thought, allowing him access to your mouth.  

This feels like heaven. You had dreamt about what it would feel like to kiss him and the reality is better than you could have ever imagined. His kiss was surprisingly gentle, his soft tongue probed your mouth with a quiet intensity that made you throb for more.

His large hand cupped the back of your head as he gently pushed you down into the couch. His breath was quick and heavy as he leaned into you. His nose pressed against you as he deepened the kiss, pushing you further underneath him.

The rest of the world was completely forgotten as you pulled him even closer to you, snaking your fingers into his dark hair. Your tongues danced to a perfect rhythm as you both lost yourself in desire.

His hand found the hem of your shirt and his fingers slowly crept under the fabric. A soft moan escaped you as he finally came into contact with your bare skin. His calloused fingers skated across the smooth skin of your stomach, brushing across your ribcage, moving higher at a painfully slow pace surely designed to drive you insane.

The taste of the cherries mixed with the bitterness of the beer on your lips made his head swim. The way you had parted your lips for his tongue......God, he wanted to devour you. He wanted to take you right here on this couch and claim you as his.

He settled into the cradle of your thighs, his growing bulge pressing firmly against your aching heat.  “Fuck, cariño.” The words left his lips in a breathy whisper, the want blanketing you like a thick fog blinding you to anything other than him. Your tongue licked into his mouth hungrily, almost desperately. His tongue pushed back against yours with equal force, letting you know  he was just as much into this as you were. The ornamental clock on the wall ticking to the pace of your breathing as you fell deeper under his spell.

Javi’s thick fingers traced the lace of your bra, the thin material leaving little between his hand and your skin. Your breath faltered as his thumb brushed across your nipple until it sharpened under his ministrations. He quietly moaned his approval into your mouth along with a more forceful thrust of his tongue. Your back arched, pushing your body into his hand…..the desire pooling at your core.

Neither one of you heard the click of the latch as the front door swung open.

“Oh, fuck!” Steve’s voice brought you both crashing back to reality.

Javi’s head snapped up, his eyes wide and mouth agape. You scrambled out from underneath him, tugging at your shirt in a desperate attempt to cover up.

Steve chuckled and shook his head. His eyes danced between the two of you and he smirked. “I knew you two fuckers wouldn’t be able to keep your hands off each other.” His keys clanked against the bowl, and he shot a glance at Connie trying to suppress her giggles. “There better not be any cum stains on my couch.”

Javi’s jaw twitched as he moved away from you but otherwise, he was the picture of calm, not a shred of embarrassment shown on his beautiful face. You, on the other hand, were a different story. Your face burned as your eyes bored holes into the floor. You couldn’t even bring yourself to look at Connie or Steve, even though the smile on your face could have lit up the darkest night. You were embarrassed about being caught but you didn’t regret a single moment of what happened between you and Javi on that couch. You swallowed your feelings of embarrassment and lifted your chin. You weren’t a teenager who’d just been caught making out with your boyfriend by your parents, you were an adult and you had nothing to be ashamed of.

“Did you enjoy the restaurant?” You asked Connie, changing the subject to calm your racing heart.

“Oh my god, it was amazing! The food was ridiculous. You would love it.” Her eyes darted to Javi and the subtle raise of her brow didn’t go unnoticed by you.

“I’m glad you had such a great time.” The two of you chatted briefly about how Olivia did throughout the night. Your eyes darted toward Javi and Steve, the two of them engrossed in their own conversation.

You grabbed your purse and called out to Steve, telling him you’d see him at work on Monday.

“Do I see double dates in our future?” Connie asked quietly as the two of you hugged.

You laughed softly. “Maybe?” Your eyes darted to Javi and the two of you locked eyes for a brief moment.

Your eyes drifted back to the couch. The heat of the moment you and Javi shared spreading through your body like smoldering embers. Your eyes fell on Javi one last time, his lips twitched into a crooked grin.

“I guess I should get out of here too.” Javi clapped Steve on the shoulder. “I’ll walk you out.”

He pecked Connie on the cheek and opened the door, allowing you to exit first. His hand rested gently at the small of your back as he guided you toward the stairs.

“You know, Valentine’s Day isn’t over yet Princess.” Javi whispered in your ear, his breath hot against your skin.

The warmth of his hand at your back made your skin tingle. “No, I guess it’s not.” Your lips twisted into a small smirk.

When you reached your car, he grabbed you by the waist spinning you around to face him, his eyes intense with desire. “I’m not ready to stop celebrating.”

Your breath hitched in your throat as he pressed his body against yours. “Me either.”  He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before pulling away just enough to look at you.

“My place.” His voice was rough with desire. It wasn’t a question; it was a statement.

You slowly nodded, not wanting to seem too eager. He brushed his lips against yours one last time before releasing you from his grip and walking toward his own car; pausing momentarily to tilt his head to light a cigarette.

Was this the start of something? You had no idea…..but you were damn sure going to find out.

[crowandmousewritingco]

It Began As a Joke

Paring: Javier Peña x gn!reader x Steve Murphy

Words: 1.4k

Rating: P (for porn)

Author: Mod Crow

Summary: It started as a joke, but it's not a joke anymore.

Warnings: Mentions of breeding, face fucking (There are others. 18+ MDNI)

It was originally just a thing between Steve and you. After Connie left to go back to Miami with their daughter, Steve fell into a dark place. The first time the two of you fucked it  was fueled by emotions and alcohol. The second time happened right before Connie had come back. That was also the first time you met Connie, and to say that the meeting went well would be a bold faced lie. You had been sitting on what used to be their couch, wearing one of his old college shirts wrapped in a blanket you had brought with you the last time you stayed at his place.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hearing the door knob jiggle, you assume it’s Steve finally back from the office and the store. Getting up off the couch, you wrap your blanket around your shoulders as you make your way to the door. You make quick work of the locks excited to see him again.  Pulling open the door, you smile.

“It took you lo-” With the door open, you lock eyes with the women before you. You had seen her in pictures that were sparse throughout the place. “Oh you must be Connie.” You chuckled nervously, you knew who she was, and you knew that Steve hadn’t talked to Connie since she left. 

“Who are you? And where’s my husband?” Connie looked past your shoulder, eyes scanning the living room. It was obvious that Steve never mentioned you. 

“Steve had something at the office to do, then he was running to the store. Would you…Would you like to come in?” You stepped aside, the blanket falling off your shoulder. Connie’s eyes looked from the living room behind you, to you, to the now exposed clothed shoulder.

“Are you inviting me into my own house?” If looks could kill, Connie’s glare would have made you drop dead in the doorway. Shoving her way past you, you watch as she examines the space as if she had never been there before. Pushing the door shut, you walked further into the living room. 

“I-I thought you weren’t coming back, neither did Steve or Peña. After you left, Steve spiraled into a dark place. You had just up and left and you left with his kid. I was there for him when you weren’t.” Pulling the blanket back up, you cover your shoulder once more. Looking at Connie, you harden your gaze, if she was going to give you an attitude then why not return it.

“I left with our kid. Steve was putting work above us and the baby, so of course I’d leave. I thought maybe it would make him realize that he needed to put more effort into us. Apparently all it made him do was go out and find a new hole to fuck.” As the last word slithers from her lips you could feel your blood come to a boil almost instantly.

“It wasn’t my fault your husband was a drunken mess. It wasn’t my fault that your husband was convinced he had lost his wife. I didn’t do that to him. You did Connie.” Taking a step towards her you stare at her with unwavering strength. 

Watching as Connie also takes steps toward you, you’re expecting her to argue her side, to fight back in some way, hell, you were even ready to hear her call you every name under the sun. That’s not what happens though. You hear the slap first, then the white hot stinging. In the midst of all the chaos, your brain didn’t have time to register the sound of the door opening behind Connie. Looking back to her, you raise your hand to your cheek. 

“What the fuck is going on?” Hearing Steve’s voice, your eyes snap to him. Watching him walk further into the room, you can see Connie’s expression soften before turning around to look at her husband.

“Steve, thank Christ you’re home. She was insulting me and calling me all these names. She wa-”

“They.” Steve’s eyes snapping to you before looking back at Connie. “It’s them and I’m not that stupid Connie.” Steve’s eyes find you slower this time. When they finally found you, you could see the frustration and anger melt from his eyes. “I heard the slap, I watched as they brought their hand to their face. The face you slapped.” 

“Wh-What? Stephen, what are you saying? You’re willing to throw away our marriage for this…” You look at Connie as she wildly gestures to you, “Thing?” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The things that happened after all of that was kind of a blur. You remember lunging at Connie, you remember managing to get a couple of hits in, mostly to her body, but the few hits that really mattered to you were the punches to her face. One of them blackened one of Connie’s eyes, the other making somewhere in her mouth bleed.

But that was then though. This is now, and right now, you were between Javier and Steve. Steve buried deep inside you, and Javier using your mouth just how he wanted. This whole thing had started out as a passing joke while out one night. You had expected them both to laugh along with you, but you were the only one laughing. You knew that the two of them were imagining the scenario. 

“Fuck baby,” Looking up through your lashes, you can see that Javier had dropped his head down, locking eyes with you, “I don’t think it’s fair you get to fuck them. Their pretty little eyes are practically begging for me to fuck that lovely hole of theirs.” You felt him reach down and tangle his fingers in your hair, holding your head still so that he could fuck your mouth. With every thrust his cock his the back of your throat causing you to gag every time.

“Too bad Peña, only I’m allowed to breed this pretty hole.” You felt Steve grip your hips tighter as a mumble string of curses fell from his parted lips. “A real shame you don’t get to feel how tight they squeeze when they gag.” You could hear the smirk in his voice and normally it would make you roll your eyes, but all you could do was gag and moan on Javier’s cock. With every thrust made you squeeze around Steve more and more as you felt the heat in your stomach climb. “If you keep that up baby, you’re gonna make me cum.” Taking that as a sign, Javier became rougher, only making you squeeze Steve tighter. 

Feeling Steve’s thrusts become erratic you knew he was close and based on the way Javier was now moving he was too. Without warning -even if you could have said anything- you slam yourself back on Steve as you cum. Javier finished not too long after, and Steve was the last one to cum. 

As both pulled out, you collapsed to the mattress below. Panting, you close your eyes and listen to the two of them walk around the bedroom. The first thing you feel is a cool wet cloth gently cleaning you up. The next thing you feel is the blanket being pulled over you. The last -and your personal favorite- thing you feel is the bed dip beside you. Rolling over to face the body, you open your eyes. Though it isn’t Steve you see, it’s Javier. Feeling the bed dip behind you. Looking over your shoulder you watch as Steve situations the pillow.

“S-Steve is Javier staying?” Your voice hoarse from Javier’s fucking. You watch as Steve nods before laying down beside you, wrapping an arm around your waist. Laying down beside Steve, you feel Javier do the same, his arm wrapping around your waist just above Steve’s arm. Closing your eyes you take a deep breath, Javier’s smoky scentmixing with Steve’s woodsy musk almost making your head reel.

“You should get to sleep. We have a long day tomorrow.” You could hear the smirk in Javier’s voice. 

“Shut up Peña, but he is right baby. We do have a pretty long day tomorrow.” You feel Steve press a gentle kiss to the back of your head. Humming out tiredly, you mumble a soft ‘good night’ to the two of them. You had no idea what tomorrow held for you, but that was a problem for you to deal with later.

Credit: @inklore

All Works Taglist:

@for-a-longlongtime @romanarose

Pedro Characters Taglist:

@littlemisspascal @burntheedges

@carusolikey @thebeldroramscal

@morallyinept @lady-bess

@pedrostories @rivnedell

@pascalsanctuary @readingiskeepingmegoing

@jessthebaker

[tightjeansjavi]

Tie Me Up Like I’m Surprised

Sex Escapades With Agent Peña

(Javi Peña x f!reader NSFW)

A/N: thank you to the lovely anon who sent in a request for Javi to tie you up with his tie. This one is for you, babe &lt;3

Summary: Your boyfriend Agent Peña invites you as his +1 to a cocktail party at the U.S Embassy in Colombia. You can’t get enough of the way your boyfriend looks in that tie.

~word count: 4.2k~

Warnings:established relationship, smut with no plot, semi public sex, office sex, Javi is the dom in this one, reader is 100% sub, consent consent consent, slight power dynamic (if you squint) teasing, edging, some degradation, nicknames, huge fucking praise kink, cream pie, cum eating, oral (male and female receiving), unprotected p in v, pussy play, cock warming, mentions of smoking and drinking. Once again, this is straight up filth/porn and is NSFW. Do not open this around your boss, or coworkers please. (+18) minors dni !

Songs used:

Tuyo by Rodrigo Amarante

needy by Ariana Grande

Dress by Taylor Swift

Pussy is God by King Princess

You never had said yes so fast in your entire life when your boyfriend Javi asked you to be his +1 at the U.S Embassy cocktail party. The only two people that knew that you and agent Peña were dating were Steve and Connie. They both did a pretty damn good job of keeping yours and Javi’s relationship on the down low. Excitement flooded through your system at the thought of attending this event with you around Javi’s arm. His arm candy. God, the other receptionists were going to be fuming. Almost every woman in the office had a crush on agent Peña. You had nothing to worry about of course. He was all yours, and vice versa.

You had just finished clipping your earrings in when Javi knocked on your apartment door. “It’s open Jav!”

He pushed the door open then when he got a first long look at you and his eyes nearly bugged out of his skull. “Are you ready cariño—holy shit.”

You were wearing a sinfully red cocktail dress. The length was work appropriate, but still flirty. The bodice was tight and hugged your curves beautifully. Just enough cleavage was peeking out for it to show your wild side while still appearing classy, professional. The hem of the dress fell at your mid knee and there was a small slit going up the side of the fabric. You paired the dress with nude, strappy heels that had just a touch of shimmer on the fabric.

“Eres tan hermosa. ¿Te has puesto esto para mí?” (you are so beautiful. Did you wear this for me?) Javi rasped as he strode into your apartment. He wasted no time to back you up into the nearest surface he could find, which happened to be your kitchen countertop. “You’re so fucking beautiful querida. You’re killing me in this fucking dress, baby.” He grasped onto your hips, burying his face between the sliver of skin visible between your breasts. He licked a sinful stripe with his tongue—

“Jav! Baby, we can’t! We’re gonna be late and you know how Murphy gets!” You threaded your fingers through the back of his hair with a giggle.

“Don’t care. He and Connie can wait five more minutes for us.” He drew his face from between your breasts and despite the fact that he knew you’d get upset at him for messing up your lipstick, he kissed you anyway.

“JAV!” You slapped his bicep playfully as you pushed him away.

“I’m sorry, cariño. You just look too damn kissable right now.” He chuckled and swiped his thumb over his lips, wiping off the residue of your lipstick from them.

“Yeah, and now your lips are cherry red Javi.” You shook your head with a grin as you placed your hand on his chest and pushed him away from you playfully.

“Just means I get to carry your kisses on me all fucking night querida.”

Just when you were about to respond to his vulgarity, Steve had honked the horn from where he was parked on the street below.

“C’mon agent Peña, I need a dirty martini stat if I’m going to make it through this event.”

“You and your dirty martinis.” He chuckled, bringing his hand to your lower back as he nudged you towards the front door of your apartment. The hot, humid Colombian air was already causing the fabric of your dress to stick to your skin and you wondered how your boyfriend wasn’t dying in the tailored suit he was wearing.

He held the door open of Murphy’s car for you, letting you climb in first. He may or may not have given you ass a little pinch before he climbed in after you, pulling the door shut.

“Took you both long enough.” Steve grumbled from the driver's seat. “Was about to leave your ass here, Peña.”

Javi was already reaching into his suit pocket, pulling out his cigarettes and lighter as he placed it between his lips. “Sorry, Murphy. Had to ogle at my lady real quick.” He rolled the window down, reaching over you to roll yours down as well before he lit the tip of the cigarette.

“Oh, I’m sure you did just that.”

Javi looked over at you as he took a long drag from the cigarette and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively in your direction as he brought his arm around the back of your seat, resting his fingertips along your exposed shoulder. “It’s not everyday I get to see her in a beautiful dress like this.” He shot you a wink.

At the event, in one of the U.S Embassy’s many large conference rooms, Javi was quick to head to the open bar for your dirty martini with extra Olives. He returned to your side and handed you the glass, his fingertips brushing yours as you watched him closely. The rim of the glass was perched against your lips as you took a sip. Christ, he looked so fucking good.

Much to your disappointment, your boyfriend was pulled away to engage in mindless office chatter. However, despite the distance between you, his eyes always found yours in the room.

You were specifically watching the way his hands would move to adjust his tie. The tendons in his hands would flex under contact as he placed his hand on his hip while his elbow rested alongside one of the high tables. You could tell by the expression on his face, that he was bored of the conversation he was un-actively participating in.

Your glass was nearly empty as you swirled the remaining contents around mindlessly. You caught his attention simply by pushing your hair over your shoulder, exposing your neck in the most casual fashion. Your legs crossed over one another, heels glistening in the lighting as your fingers delicately held the stem of the toothpick. You wrapped your lips around one of the olives on the toothpick and sucked it into your mouth.

You heard the scraping of Javi’s chair before you caught sight of him approaching you. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing cariño?” He hissed, leaning down over you as you gazed up at him innocently, lashes fluttering.

“Eating these olives and trying to get your attention. Think it worked?” Your lips curved up into a cherry red stained grin.

“Oh, it worked alright. C’mon.” He grasped your wrist in his warm palm, pulling you up from your seat. He didn’t care if anyone was watching the two of you at this point. He knew that people would gossip regardless.

“Jav what are you—”

“Shh. Just follow me. Don’t ask silly questions querida.” He tsked under his breath as he released his grip around your wrist and let his hand rest at your lower back.

Soon the two of you were outside the conference room. The echo of your heels clacking along the smooth tile could be heard, followed by Javi’s heavier footsteps behind you. After turning down a hallway, you knew exactly where he was taking you. Straight to his office.

He was quick to open the door and nudge you inside before he pulled it shut and locked it behind him. He reached under the back of his suit jacket, pulled out his gun and placed it along his desk with his badge next to it. “You couldn’t keep your eyes off me all night, cariño. I was looking for a perfectly good excuse to depart from the conversation I was having. You gave me just the excuse I needed.”

He had you backed into his desk with zero hesitation. “I couldn’t keep my eyes off you because you look so fucking good tonight Jav. Not sure why, but that tie is doing things to me.”

“My tie, sweet girl? What about it?” He was already effortlessly slipping off his suit jacket, tossing it down alongside where you sat upon the edge of his desk. When he moved his hands up to loosen the tie around his neck, you reached up to stop him.

“No no. Let me do it.” Your hands were around his, ceasing his movements as the fabric slipped between your fingers.

Javi was dipping his head down, nudging his nose against yours before he was closing the gap and capturing your lips between his. “What do you like so much about my tie, cariño? Don’t be shy.” He mumbled into your lips while his hand ghosted around the outside of your thigh as he hiked it up around his hip, causing your back to lay flat across his desk. You could hear papers and pens clinking to the ground from the movement but Javi didn’t seem to care.

“I just couldn’t stop thinking about all the ways you could tie me up with it.” You breathed out against his lips, tasting the warm whiskey on his tongue wrapped deliciously in faint cigarette smoke. You were quick to grasp the buttons of his shirt, popping them open so his glistening tan chest was exposed.

“Jesus fucking Christ. That’s what you have been thinking about? You’re so unbelievably filthy baby. So filthy for me.” He mumbled against your lips as he slipped his tongue into your mouth, letting out a deep exhale as he gripped onto your thigh tightly.

Your fingers skated across the exposed skin on his chest greedily as you kissed him deeper, your tongues actively exploring one another’s mouths. Your kisses with Javi were never short of filthy. You loved the way he completely took over your lips with his. “Yes, Jav. Please tie me up baby and have your way with me.” You scraped your nails down his chest, eliciting a groan from the cavern of his throat.

“You don’t have to ask me twice, cariño.” His lips detached from yours. They were smeared with your cherry red lipstick and swollen with your kisses. He didn’t waste another second before he slipped his tie from around his neck as he leaned down over you. “I could blindfold you. Or gag that pretty mouth of yours. Hmm..” he pondered while he stood between your legs. He couldn’t help but let his hand that was gripping the outside of your thigh, dip inwards before his thumb was brushing lightly across your clothed clit. He could feel the wetness pooling through the fabric as he let out a deep chuckle. “This turning you on already querida? Your pretty little pussy has soaked through your panties.” He hummed as he applied a bit of pressure to your covered clit.

Your body lurched forward from his touch alone as you took your lower lip between your teeth. Your thighs instinctively spread open for him as he cupped your aching cunt with his warm palm. “Fuck, Jav. Please. I can’t handle your teasing tonight.”

“No? Oh, my sweet girl. You want me that bad, huh? Oh my poor poor greedy little baby.” He stroked his thumb across your clit once more. “Be a doll and grab the box of smokes from my jacket cariño.” He rasped.

You nearly cursed under your breath from how fast you were reaching for his suit jacket and pulling the box of cigarettes and lighter from the internal pocket. You placed the cigarette between his lips, holding in your soft moans as he continued to play with your clit. Your fingers shakily lit the cigarette for him as he took a drag, blowing the smoke off to the side. “Arms behind your back sweetheart. Be a good girl while I play with your pussy, okay? Just want to hear those pretty little sounds from you cariño. Want to make sure that you’re nice and ready for my cock.”

You tossed the box of cigarettes and lighter down onto his suit jacket before bringing your arms behind your back as he requested. “I’m always ready for your cock Jav.”

“I know my sweet girl. You’re always so good for me.” He kept the cigarette pursed between his lips as he removed his thumb from your clit and reached around you. You felt the smooth fabric of his tie wrapping around your wrists as he tied them together in a bow. “Now, if only I had some proper rope to tie you up completely. I think this will do for now. How’s it feel? Not too tight?”

Your breath hitched in your throat when you tried to wiggle your wrists but they wouldn’t budge. “No, not too tight baby. Just enough that I can’t move them.” Your lips were held in a pout as you looked up at him.

“Perfect. I love seeing you like this cariño. Always looking so pretty for me.” He brushed his thumb across your lower lip, dragging it down slightly. “You want my cock now, pretty girl? Ask nicely.”

“Please, Javi. Can I please have your cock now?” You breathed out, feeling the ache between your thighs continue to pulse.

“Of course you can, baby. It’s all yours.”

With his cigarette still expertly pursed between his lips, he quickly undid the button of his dress pants and pulled the zipper down and freed his cock from the restraints. He loved the way that your eyes would widen slightly every time you saw his cock. It’s like you were amazed by the length and girth of him, no matter how many times you had seen it.

You watched the way it slapped up against his stomach, the ridged head was leaking with precum and you were nearly salivating at the sight. “Can I taste you, please Jav?”

“You want to suck my cock baby?”

“Please.”

Your lips were already parted open, eagerly waiting for him. He brushed his tip across your lipstick stained lips as your warm, inviting mouth wrapped around him. Your tongue swirled around the ridged head, tasting his salty precum. You watched with an innocent look, your mouth filled with his cock as Javi’s eyes rolled back into his skull.

“Fuck cariño. You’re going to fucking kill me with that pretty little mouth of yours.” The tip of the cigarette dipped down slightly between his lips as his hand found purchase on around your face. His thumb was gently stroking your cheekbone as you hollowed your cheeks out to take more of him in. “Oh fuck, you’re so beautiful, mouth full of my cock. You love this don’t you cariño? Look at you, filthy girl.” He hissed under his breath when the tip of his cock nudged the back of your throat.

You gagged around him, feeling tears prick the corner of your eyes as you looked up at him. Each time you bobbed your head, Javi could feel himself stretching out the soft, fleshy interior of your cheeks against his thumb.

More praises began to fall from his lips as you continued to suck him off greedily. Javi was in complete bliss, having you beneath him like this, mouth filled with his cock. He couldn’t wait to fill you to the fucking brim.

He reached down, tapping his cigarette out before he slipped out of your mouth with a ‘pop’ before you could speak, his lips were on yours kissing you deeply as he could taste himself on your tongue. “If you would have kept that up, I would have been cumming down that pretty little throat.” His hand was wrapped around your throat, tilting your head back slightly as he nipped at your lower lip. “Wrap your leg around my waist, cariño and prop your other foot up on my desk.”

He brought his other hand around your lower back, propping you up gently so you wouldn’t fall back. Your leg found purchase around his hip while you propped your heel clad foot against the side of his desk. His tip was firmly pressed against your clothed clit, eliciting a moan from both of you. He dropped his hand that was firmly grasped around your throat, to between your legs. His fingers pulled your thin panties to the side, exposing your pussy to him.

He dragged his tip across your slick folds, coating himself in your arousal before he slowly sunk himself inside of you. He loved the way your pussy immediately gripped around him. Your walls were wet, warm, and inviting and he could stay buried inside of you forever. He felt your heel digging into him from where it was wrapped around his waist. “So fucking tight cariño. Taking my cock so well. Fucking love the way your pretty little pussy grips around me.” He jutted his hips forward, knocking you into his desk as your lips parted open.

“Fuck me, Jav.”

“That’s the plan querida.” He chuckled as he rutted his hips into you again. At this angle, with your thighs spread wide, you could feel him everywhere inside of you. Your head fell back slightly as a moan slipped out as he fucked into you.

Javi’s hand was still firmly wrapped around your lower back, keeping you steady as his other hand gripped onto the edge of the desk for support. More things were being knocked over from how hard he was fucking you. He could see your tits bounce under the fabric of your dress with each heavy thrust.

He silenced your sweet moans with his lips where his teeth clashed against yours in a heated, desperate kiss. He drank in your sweet sounds, praising you against your swollen lips as you clenched and pulsed around his thick cock. “That’s it baby. So good for me. Always such a good girl. You wanna cum my sweet girl? Not until I say” he mumbled into your lips.

In one swift movement, he had slipped out of you and carefully flipped you over on his desk so you were bent over the side of it, your wrists bound behind your back with his tie. You were at his complete and utter mercy now.

Javi had given his cock a few quick tugs as he crouched down, and dragged his tongue across your soaked pussy a few times getting a proper taste. Your thighs quivered when you felt his tongue flatten against your clit. “Javi. Fuck. Please! D—don’t tease me you asshole.” You mewled.

“Shh. Don’t worry, my sweet girl. You’ll get my cock again in just a second.” He hummed against you, flicking his tongue a few times before he stood up. You felt his hands harshly yank your hips back against him. “You gotta learn some patience, cariño. Enjoy the moment.” His hand had harshly made contact with your left ass cheek. His open palm stung the soft skin as your body lurched forward. He leaned down over you, soothing the red skin with a kiss before he bit down causing you to let out a surprised yelp.

“Jav..” you warned.

“Be a good girl for me, cariño. Don’t make me tell you again.” His lips dragged from your ass up your spine and between your shoulder blades. His broad frame completely enveloped around you as he slowly slipped back inside of you. He was less gentle this time as he rammed into you, over and over again. The hem of your dress was bunched up over your hips as you cried out his name.

He let his hand dip under you, flattening across your stomach before dipping down between your legs where his fingers furiously began to rub at your already swollen clit. The building orgasm in the pit of your stomach had your ass arching into him, meeting his thrusts half way as you gyrated your hips back into him. “That’s it baby. Fuck yourself on my cock, just like that cariño. Look at you being a filthy little whore for me. Getting yourself off on my cock.” He flicked your clit faster, edging you to your crashing release.

“Javi—javi! Please, baby. Please let me cum!” You were nearly sobbing at this point as he continued to relentlessly pound into you.

His eyes were locked on where your bodies were connected. With each thrust of his hips, and glide of his cock, he could see you gripping him, coating his cock in your arousal. “You wanna cum, my sweet girl? C’mon cariño. I know you’re so fucking close baby. Cum around my cock. I want you to complete fucking coat me. You think you can do that for me baby?”

You replied with a strangle moan, mixed in with his name as you clenched around him.

“Ahh. That’s it. There she is, there’s my pretty fucking girl. That’s it baby. I got you.” He listened to your sweet sounds of ecstasy fill his office space and his greedy ears. His fingers continued to work your clit as you hit your orgasm with a deafening crescendo.

“Wh—where can I cum cariño? I don’t want to ruin this pretty dress of yours—”

“Inside of me Javi.”

“Are you—”

“Yes. Just fucking do it.” Your walls were still clenching around him. “I’m on the pill, and we’re both clean.”

As soon as he had your full consent to cum inside of you, nothing was stopping him as he grunted out your name. Sinking his nails into your hip as he spurted his hot ropes of cum into your pussy. You felt him coat your walls entirely as he collapsed against you, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he stayed buried deep inside of you. His cock twitched a few times before it softened but he didn’t have the strength to move yet. “Fuck Me.” He whispered against your hair, pressing a kiss against the side of your neck.

Yours and his cum was dripping out of your pussy and around his softened cock. You both were catching your breath as the post sex high set in. Javi slowly propped himself up on his elbows, looking down at where he was still buried deep inside your pussy before he gently untied your wrists. “How was that baby? You feeling good?” He softly spoke as he tossed his tie over his suit jacket.

“Absolutely turned my fucking brain to mush, Jav.” You looked over your shoulder at your proud grinning boyfriend. “If you’re gonna stay inside of me like this, mind grabbing me a smoke?”

“If you’re alright with it, and of course cariño.” He grabbed a cigarette from the open container on his desk and placed it between your pretty lips before he lit it for you.

“Mmm. Well, you’re in luck because I quite enjoy the way you fill me up baby.” You propped yourself up on your elbow as you wiggled your ass back against him, taking a long drag from the cigarette.

“This is why you’re absolutely going to murder me one of these days. Can’t just go and say that shit to a man baby. You know what it does to me? Not to mention, you look so fucking pretty, cigarette between those lips, my cock still buried inside of you after you’ve been properly fucked. God, you’re so beautiful.”

You let out a soft giggle as you took another drag before plucking the cigarette from your lips and reached back and placed it between his lips.

“Mmm. You should have brought your camera so you could have taken a picture of me like this. Oh well, next time.”

Javi took a long drag, keeping his eyes locked on yours as he slowly slipped out. He used a few tissues from the Kleenex box that was discarded on the floor to gently wipe between your thighs. He gently fixed your panties and pulled your dress back down over your thighs before he tucked himself back into his pants.

“We should probably make ourselves presentable before we head back out there. Hopefully no one has noticed our absence.” He swiped his thumb across your lower lip, leaning down as he gave you a quick peck.

You both quickly tidied up his desk, picking up the discarded papers from the floor and neatly stacking them once more. You both headed to the empty bathrooms, cleaning up your appearance as you did your best to wipe away the smeared lipstick residue from his face.

By this time, Steve and Connie 100% knew that you and Javi were up to no good as you finally made a reappearance. Your boyfriend’s hair was tousled, and his tie was crooked but at least his fly wasn’t down. Your lips were swollen and your dress was a bit crinkled at the bottom. If that wasn’t the dead giveaway, it must have also been the fact that you both had that post sex glow to your faces.

“Where the hell have you two been?” Steve had inquired.

“Wanted to show her something in my office.”

“Are you—did you guys really?”

“We sure did. Anyway, I’m parched. You want another dirty martini cariño?”

“Nah. I’ll take a whiskey on the rocks please.”

“That’s my girl.” He grinned, giving your waist a light squeeze before him and Steve went to go order another round of drinks.

“Did you guys do it in his office?” Connie asked.

“Is it that obvious?”

“It’s written all over your face babe.”

“We did, and it was just as hot as you’re thinking it is.”

“Damn, I’m gonna need to convince Steve to let me visit him after hours sometime.”

You and Connie giggled together as you glanced across the room at agent Peña. He shot you a flirty wink, causing Steve to roll his eyes in annoyance.

Damn you Javier Peña, damn you.

Taglist: @chaotic-mystery @loquaciousferret @peterhollandkait @userpedros @meveispunk @lovers-liability @atinylittlepain @777-wonders @novemberrain-writes @cutesyscreenname @korynnekorynne @bearsbeetsbeskar @beskarandblasters @yazsos @soaringcloud @soft-cryptids @pr0ximamidnight @last-girl @kirsteng42 @str84pedro @dinsdjrn @bonglorddaryl @mirasantidotes @dreamingofdaddydin

[freshlyrage]

Running Like Water

Chapter 32

pairing: Javier Peña x OFC (written as xReader)

fic warnings: NSFW Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI) language, strained family relationships, mentions of drug abuse, discussions of insecurities and body image issues, daddy and mommy issues

fic tags: Best friends younger sister, Life-long crush, Friends to lovers, Unrequited love, slow burn, Push and Pull, Small Town Dynamics, Secret Relationships, latina MC, Fluff and Angst, OFC!Jessica Alba face claim, sorry Lorraine I'm bringing you into this, Time jumps, 2 year age gap, pre-canon

word count: 6k

A/N: I fear its safe to say I don't do well with change. I moved back to school and couldn't find my groove. Who knew I just needed a little ovulation and commute to work time to bang this one out. Chapter 33 will be arriving shortly.

Well Javier was on the floor. Without a complaint. The two of you didn’t stay too long at the fair considering each ride had a wait time of forty five minutes. In the car you decided to keep your hotel but still be open to staying over, when it was appropriate.  So now you’re on his bed, back in one of his shirts. Surrounded by him. Criss crossed while he’s sat up on the floor. 

“You could come up here.” You offer, removing your rings and placing it on his nightstand. Already claiming his space as your own, too natural for you. The offer has him quirking a brow. It was a test, you know he shouldn’t. Shaking his head.

“I shouldn’t.” He settles into the mattress, pulling the blankets to his shoulders. “We could talk like this.” Grunting from adjusting his newly relaxed body. You move forward on your stomach so that he could see you. Resting your head on your arms. You smile feeling like two kids at a sleepover, whispering and peering over the bed to see if the other fell asleep yet.

“Good you passed that one. Let's continue shall we?” 

The game of 21 questions was more like two hundred questions and it continued all the way into the house. 

Did you date?

I thought you asked me not to tell you about all of that.

I said I don't want to hear about Camila or Daniela or whoever.

You remember their names?

Yes, I couldn’t sleep and thought about a Camila under you. He flexes his jaw at that. 

I went on two dates, which were set up by my partner Steve Murphy and his wife. They ended with goodbyes after dinner. Never spoke to them again.

I went on some dates too. 

I don’t want to hear about that. You pinch him on the elbow and he shrugs. We’re different about that stuff, I hate to hear it. You nod and get the urge to apologize but fight it. 

Now in bed he clears his throat, “Alright. Tell me what your apartment looks like?”

You smile, “It’s a steal for the area. I actually have a bedroom for the price of a studio. My rooms a bit more eclectic than my one here. My bedding is white but my room walls are a burgundy color. There’s no closet so I have a clothing rack. None of my living room furniture is new… it’s all second hand from stoop sales or whatever. My birds shit without batting an eye so I opted not to be dumb about that. What did yours look like?”

His eyes are closed for a moment like he’s trying to imagine it. “Hmmm.. it was dim in there, always. The kitchen and living room were open, a few steps to lead you to the living room. I had a leather couch and a desk. My television was pretty nice. Nothing was really– mine. I tried not to make it feel lived in because I didn’t want to get attached to that place–that world.” There’s a face that you’ve never really seen from him until you’ve been here. It’s one nearly blank but you know the way his face moves, there's a small crease in his brows and he clenches his jaw. Like talking about Colombia pained him and he has to conceal it. Almost like a child admitting to their faults after a spanking. Quiet, embarrassed, unsure, and on the verge of breakdown. “You would have hated it there.”

Probably. You just nod the best you can while laying down. Waiting for his question. 

“Um…” He closes one eye, like it’ll help him think. He opts to go silent for a moment like he conjured a question but was waging his options. 

Should I? Is this a line I shouldn’t cross? Is the wound still open? “Have you heard from your father?” 

You frown for a second. Off put and taken off guard. Remembering the day, remember the rolling grass, low hanging branches and the cold demeanor from the one person she needed warmth from. Hearing urgent and violent words like I love you. Promising to take care of you. 

“No. I never went back there. He never called me even though I’m sure my grandmother told him I moved to Louisiana. I stopped needing him after I got to know him.” You rarely thought of him, just the concept of being without a parent. Then you became an educator and realized that anyone you call family is your own. Your students taught you that, so did Javier years earlier but you suppose maybe you weren’t ready to accept it yet. 

Javier hums to himself, staring at the ceiling. Contemplating if he should really share the way he had felt. Afraid it would break some rule in this delicate game you’ve got going. Wondering if you’ll furrow your brow and turn you back to sleep or internalize what’s climbing up, up, up his throat. 

“If this is… against your rules you don’t have to say anything or we could move on…”

“Okay.”

Again he can’t look at you. How is it that you reduce him to a shy young boy? 

“There’s nothing more that I want in life than to be the father of your kids.” There he goes leaping over the bounds to which he’s left in, but he can’t help it. It’s all he thinks about, all he thought about three years ago and it plagued him every time you spoke of your own father. He doesn’t see you but he can feel your eyes closed, silent, internalizing it all. After all, you'd never turn your back on him. “No one will ever know you like me. Love you, sure, but not as much as me. You’re too easy to love. But I know that you could show me what a mother looks like and I could show you what a father looks like. Our kids will never be in pain the way we were. Sorry if this makes you uncomfortable or-or confused. It’s all I thought about when I was away. And I’m so sorry for ever making you think I didn’t want you in that way.” Because he should have known that it was a deep point of insecurity for you, a deep well created by your parents. Urge to be loved, to create something and love it in a much fiercer and kinder way than your parents did you. Lorraine being able to have all that you wanted came like slice to the stomach. 

Sniffling, you rub your face into the crook of your arm. Hiding from Javier. He looks this time and he doesn’t try to hold your hand like you’re itching for. 

“Thank you… I—.” You wipe your face. Not willing to open the can of worms this could conjure if you just told him straight up that you’d be willing to start now. Fuck the trial, fuck trying to learn each other again, let’s start a family. Be irrational but be happy. You decide to keep it together. You thank him and he knows it’s genuine, you see it in his eyes. He understands your reluctance. “I found that I don’t have the need for many people in my life-“

“I need you.” He says before you. Like he did when he said he loved you. Throat bobbing, he pulls his sheets over him. “I’ll wait for you, until you need me again.”

“Can never get enough of each other huh.” Chucho chuckles while washing his hands in the sink. Boots clean and squeaking against the floor. It was a part of his routine, cleaned his boots every night even if he worked the next morning. 

Last night you fell asleep with your face buried into the crook of your arm. Hand dangling off the mattress, grazing Javier’s neck. Need to touch, woke up with a sore arm. Bleary eyed you notice there’s no-body by the bed. Silent but the sound of running water. 

That’s how you found Chucho, ready for the day at 8 am. Embarrassingly you pad into the kitchen in Javier’s shirt and boxers. 

You shrug, he hands you a cup of coffee. Nodding a thank you, “We have established clear boundaries. We are just spending quality time. We have a lot to make up for.” You say it with a bit of a half awake half still dreaming slur that has Javier’s father beaming. 

“Well if that’s what you’re calling it nowadays, so be it. I won’t be back until four pm.” He places his cup down and starts walking away. Your jaw drops and you nearly run after him. But you know he’s fucking with you, his shoulders bounce. 

“It’s not like that!” You call and he waves a hand at you over his shoulder and steps straight out of his own home. Screen door slamming with a brisk breeze. 

You hear a sneeze, “What’s not like that?” Your head snaps and eyes lock with Javier’s. Freshly showered, hair so wet it droops on his forehead. He looks younger this way. Grey shirt loose with jeans to match. Socked feet, he looks like he doesn’t want you to go anywhere. At least seeing him like this makes you want to find a nest for yourself in his bed. You can’t help but smile at him. 

He’s skeptical of your cheery mood. Brows furrowing, nostrils flared but a hint of a smile. He’s cautious, like he knows you’re up to something. You aren’t, at all. You’re just giddy and it’s only been two days and you feel your boundaries loosening. Just wanting to find that place you yearn for. Just run to him now, kiss him, tell him to put a baby in you. Grab, pull, lick, love, whatever came with it. You decide to control yourself a bit. 

Your eyes drop to his hands, he’s holding three VHS tapes. Your brows furrow just the same, wondering what movie he wanted to see with you. It wasn’t a thing the two of you ever did. Your time spent was short and only for conversations and kisses. And pot, back before everything. You had to stop smoking after getting your teaching gig. 

You want to say something bratty like, assuming I’m staying for some home videos? But you can’t even do that, lord when did you become such a softie? “Big plans?” Is all you can manage to croak.

He shrugs, “Are you staying?” He says it without shame, you know it must take a lot for a man to nearly beg. You know he means please stay. 

You look at him once more and down at your boxer clad legs. Shrugging. “I suppose”

Eric Fredricks' family owned a Haitian restaurant off main street. It was a small take out spot that had been bustling with business since 1961. Eric was your classmate. A friend of everyone, known for his large digital camera he carried around school. The loud, goofy kid shoved his damn camera in everyone’s faces. Annoyed or not, he would always say, “When you fuckers are forty you’re really going to appreciate these recordings!” 

Well, each year he cut, edited and burned these tapes as his own NR rated yearbook videos. Selling them around school and you bought one each year. He was chill with the price for you just because you always perked up in front of his camera. Ready to gleam and answer whatever stupid questions he had like;

“Andrea, how does it feel to be the worst lacrosse player in Laredo history?”

“Or Andrea, what are your thoughts on today’s LHS Chilli special? “ 

You always answered with the same slapstick humor he had. You thought you lost these tapes years ago. Javier seemed to remind you that you left them at his house, might’ve been when Javier was in Houston.

 He was right, your mother’s VHS player stopped working in 1982. You remember popping these tapes in and watching them during your winter break from Miami. Chucho snoring on the lazy boy, saved him from watching the closest thing he had to a daughter do a keg stand with her skirt flipped up towards her chest. 

“I’ve never seen these.” Javier grunts when he straightens back up and walks to sit next to you on the brown couch. A couch with the tendency to swallow you whole. You remember Javier on his knees before you, pillow covering your spread legs while he unlaced your boots. 

“Well you left so…” You grab the control and snicker, pressing play.

“Hah. Hand me that.” he gestures to the pack of cigarettes on the side table. You shake your head no and settle into the seat. “Cmon.” 

“No. No smoking in the house.” You snap at the tv, “Watch.” 

It’s Eric’s face, he’s sitting in his bedroom. “Hello. I’m Eric Fredricks. I’m fifteen and my passion is digital media. The yearbook club is full of hacks and strokes, so I’m going to make my own. The date is September 21st 1979. Ok bye!” the film glitches and the camera makes its way down the hall. Faces of people who you haven’t seen in years. Hairstyles forgotten, thank god. Winks at the camera, sly comments from Eric behind it. He asks questions in his interview segment that would never make it to the school's video yearbook. 

“What does Eric do now?” Javier asks. It’s easy to forget that he missed so many crucial moments. He missed the infamous lunch box incident in 81', Laredos first soccer championship, the halloween rager that led to the assembly—all of that. You wonder if that’s normal, for the development of a person. To be plucked out of childhood and forced to be an adult while everyone else got to worry about if their drivers test aligned with their basketball practice schedule. Burdened with the responsibility of a person's livelihood is no place for a seventeen year old. 

You bring your knees to your chest, finding the most comfort when you're guided and held. “Last I heard he was doing media production for Saturday Night Live. Like in New York City.”

He feels it too, you see the way his brows quirk. How he almost frowns. “That’s crazy—how different things went for everyone else.” You knew at that moment that the tape would be mere background noise. 

“You— you know you made a name for yourself too.” 

Hm. 

You weren’t sure if that’s what you wished to say. He doesn’t get upset with you for it. He chooses to let it slide and for that you’re grateful because you hadn’t had a clue about what to say to him. 

“Yeah.” He chuckles but doesn’t seem to be that amused. He pinches the bridge of his nose, leaning his head against the back of the couch. There’s not much to be said anymore. Lorraine changed the fabric of his being, so did the DEA. And maybe you too. His hand splayed on his knee, knuckles red from repeated trauma to the area. You opted to abandon the topic in general. Seeing his stomach tighten up under the thin fabric of his t-shirt when the choice was your hand on his. Small, soft, against his. 

The two of you relish in the harmless intimacy, you give each other this. Tiny touches could be enough. 

The two of you watch the bootlegged documentary in mostly silence. Rotating who strokes the other with their thumbs. You think about turning your cheek, kissing him. Pressing close and making out for a bit. A casual make out, breathy and gripping. You decide against it. This would be so easy if it was anyone else but him. 

It’s not because you feel like you can’t control yourself—it’s not like a make out with Javier Peña would have your panties at your ankles. You could control yourself more than that. What it is—is that you’ll take advantage of those little liberties. Sneaking kisses at any time and when you go back home, you’ll be lost without it. 

Maybe you’re doomed anyway, because if this doesn’t work out you don't know what you’ll do knowing you can’t just hold his hand. 

Your brother comes out on halloween with a fang induced lisp drunkenly reciting the alphabet backwards at a party while Eric cackles behind the camera. It makes you laugh so hard you cry, missing being young. Missing your brother. 

Lorraine pops up. High ponytail with red cheeks from gym class. Hands on her hips, it’s wrong for such an evil person to be so beautiful. You look at Javier and there’s a frown on his face. 

He wonders why she was so bad to him, what he did to deserve to be plagued by her. He regrets knowing her, it’s hard for him to watch her smile. 

Then you show up and Javier’s eyebrows raise. “I remember that day.” He mutters. There you are, looking the same just with that baby fat at the apple of your cheeks. Your hair was the closest to its natural brown, your pants were severely high waisted and your shirt a lacy shawl like thing. You’re at a locker taping a flier about lacrosse tryouts when the camera rushes you.

“Andrea Diaz! How does it feel to be Laredos worst lacrosse player?” Javier snorts next to you, squeezing your hand. That’s what he would do, come up to you and ask the dumbest, rudest questions. There, a fifteen year old Andrea rolls her eyes and rolls her thumb to secure the tape. 

Crossing her arms, “I’ll answer your dumb questions if you’re nicer about it.” You cringe at the sound of your own voice, sounding awfully juvenile. Javier’s entire demeanor goes soft. All it took was the sound of you—back then, for him to forget the panic in his gut when watching Lorraine in her prime. 

“Alright sure-sure- Andrea Diaz how does it feel to be the sexiest girl in all of Laredo?” Eric had quite the country accent, it made every line delivered feel like that of a typecasted movie star. 

Quirking a brow, “I wouldn’t know. I could ask your mother.” 

“All right that’s enough! You’re impossible to please ,woman!” Eric yells from behind the camera and it fades in little blocks to you getting set up for a keg stand. 

You’re in a skirt and a flowing yellow top. Stumbling a bit, Daniel holds your shoulder to keep you upright. You try not to think too hard about the images you’ve left in people’s minds while you were drunk. Javier is getting more and more tense each passing moment. His hold on your hand becomes just a hold and no longer a soothing stroke. 

You’re cringing at yourself, flipping your hair and chanting that you could do it while Daniel holds your waist. Hands trailing over your stomach, you almost forget that before Javier you had your fair share of hookups, him your most consistent. 

The date on the corner March 1st 1980. 

Drunkenly you lean forward and another one of your peers holds your other leg while another shoves a tap in your mouth. The entire party off screen and on, start chanting your name with whoops. That’s when your skirt flips and exposes the plain blue panties. 

You cover your eyes. 

“I don’t like this.” Is all that Javier can say, on the screen no one covers you until a random classmate of yours, Jenna? Or was it Jessa? Runs to your aid and calls all the men pigs before holding your skirt in its place. You’re dropped down and again you stumble backward into the arms of your pseudo boyfriend. 

And then you yak all over the floor.

 “Jesus christ I forgot about that.” You rub your eyes afraid to look over at Javier. 

“Did—anything-“

“No. Well I think we went to someone’s room and made out. Then I walked home.” 

His head nearly falls off his shoulders. “He let you walk home like that?” Javi grits, letting go of your hand. 

You shrug, “Dunno, high school shit.” 

“Why didn’t you call me?” 

Your brows furrow, he’s being ridiculous but you know he can’t help it. He wanted—wants, nothing more than to take care of those he loves. You watch the video back, seeing your young eyes and wish to take care of her too. You can’t even imagine him. He only lets you know the surface level of his concern for you. You know it’s more than wishing you had called him. 

You had before, panicked and blushing using the party home phone. 

You decide calling him ridiculous would be in bad faith. You just lean your head on his shoulder. Moving your hand from his and holding his bicep instead. He looks at you out of the corner of his eye. Face softening along with his tense shoulders. “I don’t know. I was sixteen and stupid. And drunk.” Your cheek feels too good there. 

He’s studying you. You wished you could read him in these moments. When he’s so in his head, he’s taking you in completely. “Can you? Now I mean.”

Your lips quirk and the apples or your cheeks redden. Pulling your brows because sometimes he’s too sweet it gives you a toothache. “I live in New York, Javi.” 

“I know.” He’s close enough to kiss. “But I want you to call me anyway. If you ever feel unsafe or unsure—i know how twisted a human can be—i’ve seen-“

There it is. He’s cut off by a kiss on his shoulder.

 “I will.” It’s a featherlight whisper and he does that thing again. That look, this time with a bit of restraint. The two of you focus on the screen again.

Twenty minutes into the forty-six minute video the two of you revert back to telling stories about the students on the screen and laughing at how high school, your high school experience really was.

“This is great, hottest couple in the school right in front of me.” Eric laughs, camera pointed at the ground then quickly shot up. Blurring than focusing on Javier at his locker. He looked so young, red cap on his head with a Righteous Brothers t-shirt. The image of him as a seventeen year old in your head had been fading for a few years, but now you’re watching him living, breathing and moving as himself. Smiling once he sees Eric approaching him. 

“What the fuck was I wearing?”

You laugh, your cheek pressed to his shoulder. “Don’t know but I was obsessed with you anyway.”

He makes one of those grunts where you can’t tell if he’s annoyed with himself or with you. You nudge his shoulder with your chin. “What?”

“Makes me feel like such an asshole.”

All you could do was sigh. You know he’d give it all to do it over again. You look at Lorraine and there seems to be love there. It never fails to make your blood boil. You know that loving Javier can make you feel sick, crazy or desperate. But you suppose her love was selfish. For a while you felt like your own love was selfish, not caring for the consequences. But you suppose it was just a natural progression. Miles away from scheming to keep him forever, by ways of manipulation. The look in his eye isn’t the same since you left him. 

A young Javier takes Lorraine’s jaw in his hand and kisses her cheek. She rolls her eyes. “He’s obsessed with me.” She smiles and he mumbles a yeah. Your cheeks heat in a rage that’s so juvenile, you want to turn off the entire thing. Maybe this was a shitty idea. Watching your most insecure and turbulent years in front of you. You were obsessed with him, crying furious tears. Avoiding contact. While he was content with her. It’s a nerve that will always be left exposed. 

He clears his throat. 

“Were you?” You bite. Removing your head from his shoulder, he sinks at the loss. Leaning forward to get a full image of your face. His brows are pulled together in confusion until they soften when he notices this is nothing but you showing him you are still so into him. 

He bites back a smirk and you want to smack it off of his face. “Was I what, querida?”

You swear you will-

“Obsessed with her.” Firm, no room for it to sound like a desperate question. This definitely breaks one of your rules. But fuck it, he’s flawed and so are you, 

He shuts an eye and shakes his head no. “I liked her. She was pretty. She was my girlfriend…”

You frown, that title belonged to you. 

There he is, an inch away from your face with such intensity. “But I would fuck her, and picture you. I imagined that you’d blush the whole time and would pretend like you couldn’t handle me just so I can fuck you harder. Would have to bury my head where she couldn’t hear because I’d come and say your name.” Your cheeks turn cherry red, just how he likes. Cunt pulsing, it betrays you. You’re so flustered and angry with him you want to lean forward and bite him. He doesn’t waiver, he leans much closer. You shudder, feeling crowded by his body. He has the strength to do what he’d like with you, you’re sure you’d put on a fight until you’re unable to lie anymore. You had been soaked the whole damn time. “What? Have I broken your rules?” He whispers, nose nudging your own lightly. You can’t help it, your mouth parts searching for his—

But he backs away and laughs at you. He laughs! Shaking his head like you’re some bastard child. Leaning back cooley and pressing play again. Lorraine’s voice ringing through the speakers. 

Absolutely not. 

You sit in silence. Staring at him while he’s glued to the image of him and his ex girlfriend. Your chin quivers, and you clench around nothing.

“G-give me the remote.” You blurt. Chest falling, bubbling with anger. He doesn’t look at you but smirks. He ignores you. Eyes welling with tears. “Javi.”

More silence. More her. You reach for his hand and he doesn’t look at you. He isn’t looking at you… so you pounce. 

Jumping into his lap, clawing at him while he laughs and hurriedly finds different ways to keep you away from the remote. You’re seeping through your underwear and onto his boxers, your cunt rolling against his crotch unintentionally.

 Your brows screw—“Just—Javi please turn it off.” He chuckles again and he’s all of this without focusing on the pain you’re in. Emotionally, sexually, whatever. You reach around him lifting your hips to get ahold of the controller but you lose again. Bouncing on his lap a bit. He grunts.

“Javi— Please- I’m not kidding.” 

The tv shuts off with a wiring tone and his eyes finally land on your own. All the playfulness leaves when he realizes. And you feel like a heat sick kitten, rubbing on yourself this way. His brow raises, eyes falling to your tear stained cheek and down your grinding hips. You drop your face into his shoulder. At first he doesn’t touch you, he just watches you. Nose nudging your cheek. Wondering why after everything you’d give it up just to come quick like this. 

“Hey… hey.” He whispers at the shell of your ear. “Fuck—Andrea—“

You can only whimper into the crook of his neck. Taking your feel for the girl in those tapes, for the girl who dreamt of him while he did the same. It drove you crazy, it made you violent and horny. “Baby…” His big hands span from your shoulder blades down to  the small of your back and then splayed on your ass. Spreading you and rolling you harder. He grunts again. “Andrea… I can’t—we said we wouldn’t—I'm sorry for teasing you—cmon.” His hands move from your behind, come to your front, at your waist and lightly push  you away from him. 

He’s impossibly hard now, his tan cheeks have a bit more color now. He’s sweating. Feeling embarrassed, you freeze. Eyes dropped to his lap, cunt begging you to move again. You feel the length of him under you, mocking you. You shouldn’t. You know. You know he’s sorry for how rushed and stupid Christmas eve was. You’re still ticked off by it, but he’s doing so good for you. 

“I’m sorry… we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” Is all you can muster out. 

“You know I want to.” He rushes, leaning forward so he can hold your face, it just makes him shift against you again. Your brows furrow at the release. 

“Okay…” A drop of sweat builds at the nape of your neck, the both of you are so turned on you’ll fuck each other if you keep this up. “Can we…can I…” You swear if he brings up your rules again you’ll crawl in a hole and die of embarrassment. 

He juts his chin at you, egging you to complete your sentence. 

You think you’ll die before you say it. Your face brightens real red and you shimmy out of his hold. You crawl off his lap and mutter to yourself. “Sorry, it’s stupid. I should just go.” 

He catches your wrist and sits you back down next to him. “Tell me.”

“It’s stupid! And gross probably.”

“We aren’t children.” 

You’ve been so open sexually until now. You felt twenty two again, never having orgasmed with another person, afraid to tell him what you wanted. He gave you it all. 

“Can we— or can I touch myself?”

Javier’s eyes darken, “You want to touch yourself.” 

God it’s like he’s trying to humiliate you. 

“Yes.”

He clenches his jaw so tight. “Can I watch? Or do you want to go to my room alone?” 

Idiot. 

“Can we do it together? Now.” You can’t let the moment pass. 

Well, he can’t either. His nostrils flare and he places his hand on his belt. Unbuckling so fast you can’t help but watch. You watch him unbuckle and unzip while you shimmy out of his boxers. His eyes glued to your movements. You feel filthy exposing yourself like this. He lifts his hips and pulls his jeans down a bit, the heft of his cock making a print through his underwear. You remember leaning down and pressing your lips along his bulge once. You’d like to do it again. 

You circle your fingers along your clit over your panties. He palms himself. 

“Tell me what to do.” You whisper. 

“Oh.” He reaches into his boxers and pulls his length out. Your pussy clenches at the sight, a thatch of hair at the base and curved. You touched yourself to the thought of it. You pull your panties down and lift one leg up on the couch, spreading yourself open. “Give me your fingers.” 

You furrow your brow but remove them. Bringing your hand to him. His free hand grasps your wrists and he takes no time, he puts the same two fingers in his mouth. You gasp, while he sucks, stroking his dick at the same time. Your fingers are impossibly wet when he stops. Your wrist is still in his hold. “Don’t put any fingers in until I tell you. Just play with your clit for a little.” 

You nod, bringing your fingers back to it. Moving in tight circles. Javier’s fist is dry, working his way up and down his shaft— your lips gather with drool—you want to-

“Spit on it. If you want. Or I can.” He reads your mind. You take no time, moving to your knees, your knees knocked together giving you a tighter squeeze for your fingers. Feels even better. You lean into his lap, back arched like a kitten. 

Javier groans at the sight. You desperately want to put your mouth on him—my rules, my rules. Spit drips from your mouth and onto the red head of his pretty cock. His hand comes to the back of your head and you moan, wishing he’d push down and force himself into your mouth. But he just strokes the back of your head instead. You lean back into the arm of the couch, you’re no longer side by side. Your whole body is barred for him, you bring your free hand under your shirt. Grabbing your breast and rolling your fingers over your nipples. 

He uses your spit and moans audibly now. Grunting in his low baritone, you collect your slick and use it for slip. Your stomach tenses, “Put your finger in. Middle.” You nod and feel even more unsatisfied. “Fuck, I missed that pretty little face you make when something goes inside your cunt.”

“Javi…” You whine throwing your head back, fucking yourself with your small finger. 

“I know—fuck.” Pre-cum gathers all over the tips of his fingers. You’ll ask to lick his hand clean when you’re done. “I know your cunt wants my cock again—I’m sorry I can’t.”

“It’s not enough.” Your knees knock together in protest. 

“I know-I know. Add another baby. Ring.” You watch his stomach go taut so he slows down his strokes. Licking his lips at the sight of you adding another. “Mm. I miss you so much.” He shudders. 

“I’m right here.” 

“Please don’t leave me—fuck.” He whines, it’s so unlike him. You watch his tip surge through the tight hole he’s made for himself, he’s close but you’re closer. You can’t believe it’s him asking you this. “I want to follow your rules—show you I’m good—but please let me kiss you.” 

The ridges of your fingers aren’t enough, you use your other hand to circle your clit without permission. He’s so caught in his emotions that he doesn’t seem to care that you touched yourself without his command. 

He tells you what to do but truly he’s at your will. His eyes well with tears and his brows are pulled together. “Let me take care of you, I’ll do everything you say if you let me kiss you—“

“I can’t— I’m going to come!” Your back arches and it builds. You can’t see him now but you hear his pace, his fist slapping against his base. You writhe and shiver and it comes crashing down. You come hard, you mutter I’m sorry, over and over. And he groans at the sight, you can’t give him what he wants. 

You can try and give him something else. You catch your breath and open your eyes. Your own come dripping to the inside of your thighs. He watches in pain, “Baby—” You whisper, fuck that’s against the rules probably. He nods, submissive suddenly. “Come here, come on my cunt.” You want to be marked, he’s yours. 

“Andrea—“ still he’s fighting his need to follow your rules. 

You nod, “It’s okay, come here.” He lets his length go at once, it twitches at the sudden abandonment. You lean forward and grab his arms, and he finally climbs over you. Reluctant, “Please Javi. Let me have what I want.” Were you power tripping? Yeah. But it was always him in control. You open your legs and he clenches his jaw. “Do you want me to finish it?” 

He shakes his head no, you know he wants it. Still he tries to be good. You begin to touch yourself under him. He begins to jerk himself off inches away from your cunt. Your knuckles brush against each other and you're already climaxing again. He slaps faster, breathing heavily in the crook of your neck. 

“Fuck—move your hand.” You do and he’s coming all over you. It shoots and covers the new growth of hair, it's warm against the bare part of you. Dripping and he instinctively slides his twitching, softening cock between your folds. The two of you gasp when just the tip of his cock prods your hole. Gasping at the way you pulse for him for that one second like muscle memory. “Sorry.” He mumbles, taking a hold of his still twitching and leaking length. He panics and tucks himself back into his boxers before he relaxes himself on you. 

He’s catching his breath, you think he’s crying against your shoulder. 

“It’s okay.” 

You hold the back of his head, hoping to soothe him. 

He had done this for you countless times. You find no issue doing it for him.

[amhrosina]

Feelings are Fatal (Javier Peña x f!Reader)

MASTERLIST // JOIN MY TAGLIST

A/N: omg whatttttt amhrosina writing a fic about someone not in a marvel show/movie???? whatttt???? the people who know me in person (& one of my fav mutuals) knew this was coming. what can I say? it’s pedro fucking pascal and i've been in love with him since GOT lol enjoy this angst fest!  

request: rosi i noticed that you added pedro pascal to your writing list so im requesting a fic with javi comforting dea reader after a family member/friend dies. soft javi, maybe reader is drinking and theres an established but secret relationship. feel free not to write it if you dont like it but i saw your authors note about pedro and figured i would ask

Summary: Javi comforts reader after she gets terrible news and is forced to confront the depth of his feelings for her. Steve confronts Javi about his secret relationship.

(Warnings: angst, mentions of death, grief, minor injuries, alcohol, Javi is a grump but is a soft!boy w reader, cursing, lots of cigarettes lol, feelings are hard for javi)

The second you heard the receiver click on the other end of the line, the bulky phone slipped from your hand and tumbled to the floor. The booming crack of the plastic smacking the tile, followed by the trinkle of the pieces cascading across the floor, were the only sounds you could hear in the bullpen. You tried to find something to focus on, eyes glazing over as your heartbeat pounded in your ears. You scanned the area around you, skipping over Murphy’s concerned gaze and landing on Javi’s empty chair.  

Mierda. (Shit.) He was still chasing a lead in Cali, and he wasn’t supposed to be home until early tomorrow morning. It’s not like he would be able to do anything for you right now anyways, considering you were surrounded by people who would out your relationship in half a second if it meant their career might be boosted because of it, but his reassuring presence was something you sorely needed at the moment.  

Your chest tightened as you processed what your dad had just murmured through the phone. You had been sitting when you answered the phone, but at some point, you must’ve stood, because you were currently white knuckling the back of your chair.  

Murphy rolled his chair into your eyeline, waving his hands in the air. Everything around you sounded muffled, almost like you were under water, and you couldn’t focus on anything for longer than a few seconds. You ran through the tricks you knew off the top of your head to stave off a panic attack. You tried to take a deep breath, you counted the tiles on the floor, hell, you even tried to find five things you could see, but the rapidly rising pace of your heartbeat, and the shallow breaths you could barely manage told you your panic attack was in full swing already. 

A gentle presence on your wrist sent a shock through you so prevalent that you snapped to attention and the world suddenly got very loud. Murphy was standing in front of you with wide eyes, murmuring your name, while the lucky few agents that happened to be in the bullpen when your phone rang stood a few feet back, observing you with keen interest. You weren’t stupid enough to believe they cared about your wellbeing. Nosy fuckers.  

Your hands clenched into fists, shaking slightly. The indent of your nails pressing into your palm was a steady ache, one that you absolutely needed if you were going to walk out of the office without incident. And you knew that was where you needed to go. Away from here, away from the DEA’s bullshit bureaucracy, away from Pablo Escobar and his sicarios. You stumbled away from Murphy, turning on your heels when you reached the lip of the bottom stair. You would explain everything to everyone later, when you could think again. ‘If you still have a job later, pendeja (asshole/idiot),’ you thought miserably. 

You barely remember jumping into your front seat, nor starting the car, nor pulling out of the police headquarters lot. You had a vague awareness that you arrived home when you unlocked your front door, but you were stuck in autopilot, and couldn’t bear to think about why you were stuck in autopilot.  

You eyed the bottle of liquor Javi had left in your kitchen the last time he was here and sighed. Yes, you thought, that’s perfect. 

- 

Javi was driving like a maniac, and he didn’t give two shits about it. When Steve had called earlier, he hadn’t been able to give any details about their partner’s bizarre behavior, other than her hasty departure from DEA headquarters after a strange phone call. Steve was puzzled, but otherwise not too concerned about her. Javi, on the other hand, had carefully untangled himself from his business in Cali and hopped on the next available and inconspicuous flight home he could manage.  

He could feel in his gut that something was wrong, and he couldn’t leave his girl hanging, job or no job. He wasn’t any closer to capturing Escobar anyways and had already determined that his trip to Cali was a colossal waste of time and resources before Steve had called him.  

He’d been pulled away from DEA headquarters for long enough, and this was the perfect excuse for him to high tail it out of Cali and come home. He was tired, and he missed his conejita (bunny – term of endearment), and even though he’d never admit it, he missed Murphy’s early morning grumblings too.  

He peeled into the nearest parking spot he could find to the apartment building and hurdled himself out of the driver’s seat. When he entered the building, he eyed the door at the top of the stairs. Dark – either Murphy was still at the office, asleep, or sitting in his apartment in complete darkness. His apartment was also dark, but a soft glow emitted from under his conejita’s door, and he breathed a sigh of relief.  

He considered using the key she had given him for emergencies. Did this count as an emergency? He sure thought so, but he didn’t want to startle her, so he knocked on the door with anxious trepidation. He waited, straining to listen through the door for any sign of life inside the apartment. There was nothing, and then there was the loud crash of something glass hitting the floor, and Javi was through the door before she could let out a yelp.  

She was on her hands and knees, hunched on the floor by her couch. Broken glass was all over the floor around her, though Javi couldn’t tell what she’d broken. He was more concerned for her palms and kneecaps, all of which were being pushed into the broken glass shards with little resistance on her end. He rushed to her side, lifting her off of the glass and into his arms.  

“Javi?” She slurred, raising her chin in a defiant gesture.  

“Cariño (honey), what happened?” He noted the way she slurred her words and the fact that her cheeks were tinted pink. “Have you been drinking?”  

“Have you been drinking, Agent Grumpy?” She pouted, trying to mimic the way Javi’s lips would poke out when he was upset about something.  

Clearly, she’d been drinking, but Javi couldn’t figure out what might’ve spurred this behavior. Out of him, Murphy, and her, she was the most levelheaded of the trio, and the least likely to drown her sorrows in a bottle of liquor. Dread coiled in his gut. Something awful must’ve gone down while he was gone, and he couldn’t help but feel like the idiot that couldn’t keep up. 

“Baby,” he murmured, carefully navigating through the millions of tiny glass shards all over her living room floor, “¿Que paso (what happened)?”  

“I dropped the bottle.” She breathed, clutching onto his shirt with her bloody hands. He didn’t care. He’d use a hundred of his shirts to stop her bleeding. He carefully set her down in a kitchen chair, untangling his limbs from hers. She seemed more alert now, more awake than when he’d busted through the door moments before. The cuts on her hands and knees were probably to blame for that, but Javi couldn’t breathe a sigh of relief yet. First, he had to find a first aid kit.  

Every agent was trained in basic first aid, and if they felt like being kiss-asses, they could take classes to get certified in trauma response. Javi hadn’t felt like being a kiss-ass, but he knew he way around a first aid kit. As he poked around her kitchen and bathroom cabinets, he stuck his head in the hallway every few seconds, checking on her. She was waiting patiently at the kitchen table where he’d left her, but she’d adopted a look that could only be described as “far away”, and his concern was growing by the minute.  

Javi couldn’t figure it out. When they’d talked on the phone this morning, she was fine, chipper even. She was excited that he’d be home soon, and he had promised that he’d make up for the nights they’d lost while he was working in Cali. When her voice had dropped to a whisper, and she revealed that Murphy had just walked into the bullpen thirty minutes early, his breath had hitched in his throat as he almost let the words “I love you” slip from between his lips.  

Javi wasn’t inexperienced with women, but he was sure that she was the only woman in the world that could get him that tongue tied. When the receiver clicked, indicating that she'd hung up, Javi had spent entirely too long staring at the phone in his hands, listening to the dial tone drone on and on as he searched his brain for wherever the hell that had come from.  

But that couldn’t be what was bothering her. Steve had mentioned a phone call, but she’d hung up the phone with him before 8am, and she didn’t start acting weird until almost ten hours later. There had to be someone, something bothering her, and Javi’s chest ached with rage about it. The only person allowed to bother her was him, and he took that job very seriously. 

“Bebé (Baby),” he sighed, propping the medical kit open on the kitchen table, “Will you tell me what’s going on?” 

She swallowed thickly, sighing as he pulled up a chair in front of her. He gently lifted her hands to the light so he could see the cuts. They were shallow, but hands always bled a lot, so both of her palms were stained a deep crimson. She watched him as he began to remove pieces of glass from the cuts, and he waited patiently for her to explain herself. He’d wait for as long as she needed him to. 

- 

The stinging sensation hadn’t left your trembling hands, but you wanted to be tough in front of Javi, so you watched quietly as he wrapped your hands in thick gauze. He’d lit a cigarette two minutes ago, puffing smoke in the air at regular intervals as he worked. When he finally moved on to your knees, which had stopped bleeding ten minutes ago, you tried to figure out exactly what to say to him.  

It wasn’t every day that your significant other’s mom suddenly and inexplicably dies during an evening nap, leaving everyone, especially your significant other, baffled and choked by her loss. His mom had quietly passed away earlier the year before, and he was only gone for two days before returning to Colombia. He hadn’t broached the topic since then, and you weren’t as comfortable with him then as you were now. You could confidently say that you had no idea how this was going to go. 

You took a breath, and before you could talk yourself out of it, mumbled the same words your dad had spoken hours before, causing your world to crumble around you. 

“Mi mamá está muerta. (My mom is dead.)” 

Javi sucked in a breath, lifting his gaze towards yours with a pitiful expression. Tears welled in your eyes, and for the first time since you’d heard the horrible news, you allowed yourself to cry. Javi dropped the gauze on the table and wrapped his muscular arms around your neck, pulling you into his chest.  

“Oh, Cariño,” he cooed, kissing your hair as you sobbed into his shirt, “Lo siento, bebé. (I’m sorry, baby.)” 

His shirt was sure to be irreparably stained now that your blood and tears were soaked into it, but he didn’t seem to mind. He stroked your back, kissed your head, and held you close while you cried and cried into his chest. He’d never seen you so vulnerable before, and a rush of fear shot through you at the thought of him scaring away because of that, but every time you tried to push away from him, he’d tighten his hold on you and urge you to let it out. 

When you finally got a handle on your sobs, Javi pulled back, searching your expression for any further breakage. He’d weather it, this awful storm, for as long as you needed him to. You knew that, and even still, when he began to put the pieces of you back together again, your heart melted at the thought of him.  

Javier Peña was not the guy that women came crying to in the middle of the night. He was the guy you picked up for the one-night stand, the one you’d talk about for years afterwards, the one you’d think about as ‘the one that got away’ until you were too old to remember his name and where he came from. That was Javier Peña, and yet, he was in your kitchen, cleaning up your wounds, healing the part of you that was inexplicably broken. If only Murphy could see you guys now. 

“Cuando es el funeral? (When is the funeral?)” He asked, blotting at the scabs on your knees.  

“Next weekend.” You murmured, wincing as he taped gauze over a particularly deep cut. 

“When mi mamá died,” he started, and you stopped breathing, unwilling to be the one to fuck this conversation up before it even started, “I didn’t let myself mourn the way I should have. I tried to sweep it under the rug, ‘ya know?” 

You nodded, remembering the weeks after his return from Texas. He had thrown himself into his work, which made yours and Murphy’s lives a little easier for a while, though neither of you preferred it that way.  

“Let yourself mourn, Cariño. It’s my biggest regret.” 

“Okay.” You nodded, though you weren’t sure exactly what he meant by that. You spoke before you could stop yourself. “You can still mourn her. There’s not a time limit on grief.”  

It sort of felt like the air was sucked out of the room. You’d never said something so bold to Javi, especially not about his personal life. You were five seconds away from blaming your brashness on the alcohol you’d consumed, even though you’d sobered up fairly quickly once he’d arrived, when he nodded. 

“That’s true, Cariño.” 

You blinked. You must really look like shit if Javi wasn’t actively building walls around himself. Sure, he’d opened up a little throughout the relationship, but he was still working on being vulnerable with you, and he had a lot of work left to do. You knew he was plagued by nightmares – you were too, and who, working this job, wouldn’t be? – but he wouldn’t talk about them with anyone. Instead, he’d pull you closer, kiss you harder, and make you forget why he’d woken in the first place. It was a coping mechanism that both of you recognized as ‘not actually coping’ but neither of you had the resources or the energy to work through that trauma. At least, not yet. 

He lit another cigarette, and you watched him breathe in the smoke deeply. He lifted it toward you, and you eagerly parted your lips, taking a much needed drag. Before Colombia, before Javi, you hadn’t touched a cigarette in your life. After being assigned to team Murphy-Peña, you felt like you had a perpetual cloud of smoke hovering over you at all times.  

Javi brushed his hands together and threw the remaining unused gauze back in the first aid kit. He gently pulled you from your seat, and the slight movement sent a sting through your legs. You were already regretting the alcohol and your hangover hadn’t even started yet. 

“Let’s sleep at my place tonight, Cariño. We’ll clean this up tomorrow.” 

You nodded, teary eyed again. You didn’t want to think about tomorrow, or next week, or any time in the future that didn’t include your mom. If Javi noticed your tears, he didn’t say anything about them, and you were grateful for his wherewithal. He always knew exactly how to handle you, and that was part of the reason you’d fallen in love with him.  

Love. You blanched. Nope. Not thinking about that right now. 

You shrugged the thought away as Javi lifted you bridal style in his arms. Javier Peña didn’t fall in love, and you certainly weren’t going to be the woman to challenge that. 

- 

Bonus Scene: Steve confronting Javi about his secret relationship with you. 

“Are you fucking stupid? You’ve got to be, to pull this bullshit.” 

Javi watched Steve pace across his living room. Again. He’d been walking a hole in the rug for half an hour, and Javi wasn’t sure Steve would be stopping his rant anytime soon.  

Technically, Javi deserved this. Everything Steve was saying was true. He was jeopardizing not only his career, but hers too. The integrity of the investigation against Escobar would be questioned if word got out that two of the three agents assigned to his case were fucking each other. Not to mention how quickly procedure would be thrown out the window if either of them were in danger. There’s a reason why those rules existed. 

But like most things, it wasn’t that simple. Javi hadn’t been able to offer an excuse for when Steve caught him carrying her into his apartment, taped to high hell with gauze and tipsy as all get out. He’d simply shrugged, unlocked the door, and carried her through the frame without a second glance. 

Now, Steve wasn’t stupid, but he chalked up that incident to her being overwhelmed with grief. What friend wouldn’t offer their couch up to their drunk, mourning partner when she needed it? What he didn’t know was how often she slept at Javi’s already. She even had a toothbrush in his bathroom and a stack of books piled on one of the nightstands in his bedroom.  

Steve’s suspicions might’ve grown a little the weekend that she went home to Oceanside for her mother’s funeral. Weekends meant little to the DEA agents working Escobar’s case – every day was another day they could possibly learn information that may or may not give them someone who might know something about Escobar, or not – but Javi was especially fidgety the two days she was off on leave. 

Steve finally demanded to know what the hell was bothering Javi when he caught him staring at her empty seat for the third time in an hour. Javi brushed it off, claiming he hadn’t been sleeping well, but Steve wasn’t so easily persuaded to look the other way again.  

The final straw, the one that prompted the yelling and the insults and the pacing, made Javi’s relationship with her so obvious that there wasn’t a chance in hell he could talk his way out of it. Steve, being the hero best buddy that he was, had heard an alarming thump from Javi’s apartment, and taken it upon himself to investigate. What he hadn’t been expecting to find was his two partners, tangled in each other’s limbs, going at it on the kitchen counter like rabbits.  

Hence, the yelling. 

“I mean, seriously Javi? You could fuck any woman in the world, and you chose the one woman that’s off limits!” 

“Listen, man. I-” 

Javi tried again to interrupt Steve’s rant, to explain himself and what he felt for her. Steve was missing the bigger picture. Javi wasn’t just fucking her, he loved her. He couldn’t figure out if that would make Steve more or less angry about it. 

“You what, man? You what?!” Steve threw his hands in the air, beckoning an excuse that might help him understand why his partners would be such idiots. 

Javi struggled to translate his feelings into words. He hadn’t even told her yet exactly how he felt and saying it now felt weirdly similar to a trial run. He searched his head for the right words to describe what she was to him. 

“I’ve been sleeping.” Javi rested his hands on his hips and sighed, eyes flickering across the ceiling as he realized how incredibly stupid that sounded outside of his brain. “I know I love her, because I can sleep after I’ve talked to her.” 

Steve studied Javi, searching for any signs of deception. He narrowed his eyes when he couldn’t find any. 

“What do you mean you ‘love’ her?” 

“I mean, I fucking love her, man. I don’t know what you want me to say.” Javi was growing restless, tugging at the neckline of his button-down shirt. Conversations like these always made him antsy, and he could feel the temperature in his cheeks rising. 

“You.” Steve cocked a grin, “Javier Peña. In love? I’m not buying it man.” 

“Well, I’m not going to try and convince you.” It was Javi’s turn to throw his hands in the air in distress. He lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. 

“You actually care about her?” Steve’s expression morphed from disbelief to genuine shock. Javi wished he could take a picture to savor the moment. 

“Are you going to say anything to anyone?”  

Javi would normally never be so obvious about his fears, but he was thinking about her, back in her apartment, probably walking a hole into her rug as she waited for Steve and Javi to hash their shit out. The look on her face when Steve started yelling was enough to make Javi panic, and he was not above begging if it meant keeping her out of trouble. 

“Nah, man.” Steve shook his head, plopping down on Javi’s couch. Javi sagged with relief. “Just don’t make it so obvious. I was suspicious before I walked in on you two.” 

“Yeah, man.” Javi took another drag of his cigarette.  

“Have you told her?” 

“Told her what?” Javi couldn’t keep the bite from his tone. 

“That you love her.” 

Javi envied the ease that Steve managed when he talked about love. Before she’d been transferred to Colombia, Javi had never, in his life, been able to understand why anyone would choose to fall in love. He recognized the signs of it from the years of watching his parents interact, but he’d never experienced it before. When Steve talked about Connie, whether it was a complaint or not, there was always an underlying tone of love in his words. When she showed up, everything Javi had ever thought about love was scrambled, and it terrified him. 

“No.” He blew out a slow trail of smoke. 

Steve nodded slowly in understanding. If anyone in the world could comprehend Javi’s mindset right now, it was the guy he’d spent hours and hours with every day for years. 

“Maybe you should.” 

“Yeah, maybe I should.” 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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[itsharleystuff]

*ೃ༄ 𝘝𝘌𝘕𝘜𝘚

Gif not mine!

— 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Javier Peña x afab!fem reader.

— 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 13.4k I’m so sorry y’all

— 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Javier can’t figure out his feelings for you and is constantly troubled by them.

— 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬/𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: 18+ content (minors dni!), smoking, alcohol consumption, oral sex (f! and m! receiving), age gap (reader just graduated college, Javi is late thirties), inexperienced reader (not innocent, tho), jealousy (not too much), semi-public sex, fingering, pet names (cariño, corazón, hermosa, sweetheart), unprotected sex (don’t try at home), riding, cum eating, creampie. Some phrases in Spanish (no translations cause I’m lazy, sorry). Reader’s nationality isn’t specified, though she’s mentioned to have studied in the states. Javi is in love but won’t admit it, mostly written in his pov. No use of y/n.

— a/n: I don’t particularly like how this one turned out but I wrote it and got very carried away, so might as well just post it anyways.

𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐨 𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐪𝐮𝐞 𝐭𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐨

𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐨 𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐪𝐮𝐞 𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐬í

𝐬é 𝐪𝐮𝐞 𝐧𝐨 𝐞𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥, 𝐪𝐮𝐞 𝐧𝐨 𝐦𝐞

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐬, 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐨 𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐦í𝐚…

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The things Javier Peña liked the most weren't a secret to anyone. He enjoyed a good smoke, a strong liquor and the company of a nice lady. Especially those three at the same time. Sure, there were other things that could bring genuine joy into his life, but he was a simple man after all.

Or so you thought when you first met him.

It's been five months since you first came to Colombia. It wasn't a really an intricate matter; basically, the embassy needed a translator for the DEA and they decided that your freshly graduated self would perfectly cut the part. And well, you really needed the money at the time, so the fact that there was an ongoing drug war happening down there was not going to be an impediment. You knew what you were getting yourself into, but let's just say that you truly didn't have a choice.

That's exactly what you had told him the first night he invited you to hang out with him, Steve and Connie. Javier didn't need a translator, but god knew his partner did. And after a couple of hang-outs, it became a routine to spend some time out, specially since you all practically lived together.

"So, how many languages do you speak?" The woman asks. “Besides English and Spanish, that is."

You take a sip from your beer without looking at anyone in specific, "I'm fluent in five languages: French, Korean and Portuguese are the three others."

"Damn, so you're like... Super smart," Steve comments with a surprised expression.

"I wouldn't say that," you reply with a shy smile, "I'm simply dedicated."

Javier huffed a laugh, the cigarette smoke filtering through his nostrils. "Can't say you don't look like one of those girls that spent their whole days locked up in their college dorm and that would always get straight A's."

You narrowed your eyes when glancing over at the agent, scowling at him defiantly. "What's that supposed to mean?" He shrugs, shaking off the question. "Are you saying I am... Uptight?"

"Your words, not mine." He puts the cigarette out without even looking back at you.

"But you implied it." Connie taps your hand and gives his husband's partner a dirty look.

"Don't listen to Javi, sweetheart," she says softly. "He can be a complete asshole sometimes."

"And sometimes, mostly means all the time." Steve adds.

"How rude of you." Javi sits back and crosses both arms over his chest, falsely offended.

The blonde woman shakes her head with a small grin before quickly peeking at Murphy' as watch, her expression turning slightly annoyed.

"It's pretty late," she realizes, "and I have to go to the commune tomorrow."

"Right." Steve nods and takes his wallet out to pay for their stuff. "We should get going."

You motion a goodbye to them with a subtle head movement, "I'll stay here for a while," you say, raising your beer. "I'd like to finish my drink."

Javier cocks an eyebrow in your direction, "Yeah, I'm staying too. I'll take care of our girl."

His partner gives him a suspicious head tilt, almost like a small warning —men sign language that you weren't sure you understood entirely—, but Peña dismisses him with a hand gesture as you gulp down the alcohol.

"You know, our building is right across the street. And your apartment is quite literally next to mine." He calls the waitress, not even side eyeing you. "I don't need to be taken care of." Javier finally meets your gaze, feeling his chest swell and instantly regretting his actions at the sight of your confused, daring eyes. "Is anything bothering you? You've been acting strange lately."

There was, in fact, something bothering him.

You. Or more like, his feelings towards you.

At first it was nothing but a simple attraction, the kind that he'd get whenever he wanted to sleep with someone and that would go away once he did. The problem was that he couldn't do that with you. After all, he was nearly forty and you had just barely graduated college. He couldn't risk making you feel uncomfortable or pushing you away.

But shit got worse when he started growing closer to you.

It wasn't about attraction anymore. It was something else. Deeper, unknown... Bizarre. He wanted to be around you all the time, learn about you; your interests, opinions, what you liked or disliked. His heart thumped against his chest whenever you'd smile at him, or briefly touch his skin, laugh at his witticism.

He hated it.

He hated that feeling that crushed his lungs when he saw you doing all those things with other men.

Why couldn't that be him? What did they have that you could possibly find appealing?

He fucking hated it.

Javier tried ignoring you, fucking around with as many women as he could to try and get you out his mind.

Needless to say it was all useless. And that's why perhaps, he was acting strange.

"Javier, are you-" whatever you were going to say got cut off by the arrival of the waitress.

"¿Qué necesitas, corazón?" The woman asked, leaning towards your companion, giving him a better sight of her big, perky breasts while gazing down at him with doe eyes. And Peña, being the man he was, couldn't bat away from her. Which kind of bothered you, to be honest.

Why was he always looking at other women? Why were they special?

It made your stomach feel weird.

"Otra botella, cariño." His tone usually changed when talking to them, even his eyes seemed more joyful. You'd picked up on that.

"Enseguida, Javi. ¿Algo más para ti, nena?" Her eyes swiftly drift towards you, voice becoming softer all of the sudden. It irritated you, more so because of the condescending tone when addressing you. Nonetheless, you kept composure.

"Todo bien, gracias." The delivery came out slightly dry and bitchy, but not as bad as you thought. She doesn't seem to mind, or even note it as she winks at the man next to you before leaving. "Could you switch to a different table?" You spit out.

He grimaces, brows furrowing and lips sealed tight. "Why? I mean, I won't. But I'd like to know why you're asking."

"Not having to deal with flirty waitresses, for starters," you mutter, rolling your eyes and making him chuckle. "And I'm also trying to catch a fling, which will most certainly not work if you're around."

He looks back at you in confusion and displeasure, as if he had missed something. "You're trying to- What?" There's something in his voice similar to... Resentment.

"You know," he stares at you intently, a muscle feathering on his jaw, "I'm trying to leave this bar with company." You feel yourself get nervous under his wary gaze, like a fire burning through your skin.

"Yeah, and you will," he stated, his tone somewhat amused but vaguely strained. "My company should be more than enough."

You giggled, wondering if he was just messing with you or didn't actually think you'd be the type to hook up with strangers. Whichever it was, you only said it to get a reaction from him, not that you'd actually do it. At least not tonight.

It was stupid and you were aware of it. Having a crush on the Javier Peña was probably the dumbest thing you'd done ever since willingly coming to Medellin while the narcos were running around. But, let's be real, how could you not? He was a full-on womanizer, dashing and breathtaking. However, what seemed to make you want him more was the fact that he didn't appear interested in you for anything other than rattling your cages, always taking his flirting to a certain extent but never actually crossing any lines.

"Come on Javi, you know that's not what I mean." He took a deep breath and leaned back on his seat.

Of course he knew what you meant. But he'd rather believe it was something different, because the mere thought of you being with another man, allowing him to do all the things that he yearned to do to you, made him physically ill. His fingertips started fidgeting with anxiety, pushing him to take out the pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his jacket and lighting one up.

"I can't let you do that, sweetheart," he simply said.

"Huh?" You scowl, astonished with his response. "I don't recall asking for your permission."

"Don't you think it's a little dangerous to take random men back to your apartment?" He grumbles sharply, "I'm trying to look out for you, corazón."

His comment only manages to anger you, as if he believed that you'd simply ran off with whatever men offered to buy you a drink. "I'm fairly capable of taking care of myself, Peña." And before he can say anything, you add: "I'm tired of your patronizing treatment. I'm not a kid."

Javier's fingers nervously tap the wooden surface of the table, "I know that. Trust me, I know."

"Sure," you mumble in annoyance, watching him smoke stiffly. "Besides, you're the one that said I was uptight," you taunt. "Perhaps I just need a good fuck to blow off some steam."

You can clearly see every muscle on his body tense up, the cigarette dangling loosely on the corner of his mouth. He clears his throat and puts it out, crushing it in the ashtray on the middle of the table, not even half way through it.

"And you think any of these idiots will be able to give you that, preciosa?" He murmurs hastily, "A good fuck?"

You shrug your shoulders with a grin. "Can't be worse than sleeping around with college boys," you say, "those suckers never gave me a single orgasm in my life."

Javier felt cornered. Your words made his mind wander along places he'd strictly forbid himself to go to, blood rushing into all the wrong areas and pulse starting to rise. Maybe it was the few drinks you've both had, but he became bolder, unable to bite his tongue back and letting all his thoughts overrun him.

"Poor thing is looking to be fucked by a real man," he teases. "I wonder if you'll get what you want tonight."

"Oh, don't make fun of me, Peña," you complain, laying your chin on the palm of your hand. "I deserve this after three years of dating the same asshole that my parents liked."

"Jesus," he huffs, "three years and the kid never made you cum once?" You shake your head and he raises and eyebrow in disbelief. "Why did you even keep up with him anyways?"

"This might come as a surprise, but not everything in a relationship is about sex." He doesn't reply, persuading you with a smug look. You sigh heavily, avoiding his glance. "You're gonna think I'm childish."

"Try me."

You take your time to retort, still unsure. "It's stupid, I swear." But when your eyes bore into his, they appear reassuring and it makes you crumble immediately. "Fine," you give up, "have you ever been in love, Javi? And I don't mean like silly, head-over heels in love. I mean the kind of love that you feel throughout your whole body every time you see that one person. It feels safe, but exciting at the same time... Have you felt it?"

The smile on your lips and the way your face lit up when speaking sent a thrill of joy through his nerves, automatically making him smile back.

"See? You're laughing, I told you it was stupid." He shakes his head lightly, leaning towards you in interest.

"No," he says playfully, "I just think you're adorable." Before you can process his words, he talks again: "No, I don't think I've ever felt anything similar."

"Really?" you can't hide the surprise in your voice. "I thought you were going to get married before coming to Colombia."

"I was." He recalled. "But... I don't know. It was a long time ago." Thinking about his past wasn't Javier's favorite hobby, so he tried to smoothly change the subject back to you. "So, is that how you felt about the guy?"

"I thought so." You tug a strand of hair behind your ear apprehensively. "But at the end, he... Well, he convinced me that no one else was going to love me the way he did." You explain, watching as Javi's fists clenched under the table. "And I was too damn busy arranging my future and planning how to get the hell out of my hometown that I didn't have any time left to deal with him, so I just... Kept him around. Because it was familiar and I was scared to meet someone else from scratch."

He gives you a comprehensive nod. "That boy sounds like a complete dickhead."

"Totally. But that's behind me now. Currently I'm just looking for something new. No feelings, no strings attached, just fun."

The agent couldn't help but feel like someone was messing with his head.

That's practically every man's fantasy. At least Javier knows he's wanted that for a long time, being the prime reason why he usually fucked whores or preferred casual hook ups. And you liked him, at least physically. He was no idiot, he could tell when a woman was attracted to him. He liked you too. Hell, that was an understatement.

So why couldn't he bring himself to make the first move? What was stopping him?

"Aquí tienes, Javi." The waitress's voice brought him back to reality as she gave him his drink.

"Gracias, corazón." He didn't engage with her further, his attention focused on you. That bothered her but you can't tell if he noticed. "So what? Am I supposed to just watch as you get sweet-talked by one of them?"

"Basically," you respond, avoiding his glance.

"Like hell I will," his tone is sharp and determined, taking you out completely. "You're already tipsy and that'll only make it easier to take advantage of you."

"I swear I'm fine, Javi." The man shakes his head and takes a long sip from his beer.

"We're leaving. Now." At first you thought he was playing around, but his stoic expression told otherwise.

"What? No." He grits his teeth and takes his wallet out, leaving a couple bills on the table. "Seriously, Javier?"

"Yes. Now, get your pretty ass up unless you want me to throw you over my shoulder." You can't believe his actions, looking up at him dumbfounded.

"I'll scream," you threaten, half serious, half joking.

"I have a badge," he stands up, glancing down at you with his hands on his hips, patiently waiting for your next move. "Come on, hermosa. Don't make it difficult."

"I- Fine." Reluctantly, you do as told, taking your purse and denying him of eye contact. "You didn't even finish your drink and now you've spoiled my chances of having a pleasant night," you ramble while walking out of the place.

Javier's hand settles on your lower back when he helps you cross the street. Despite the growing irritation and confusion that his behavior was causing you, his touch managed to make you feel comfortable. That was his magic, when it came to him, skin to skin contact wasn't only soothing, but also enjoyable; as brief as it might be, it always succeeded in bringing a particular warmth to your whole body.

"I don't understand," you mutter, crossing the dark, silent halls of the building. "Why are you acting so strange?" You suddenly stop in front of your apartment door, turning to lock glances with him, who stood completely still. "I asked you earlier if there was something bothering you, and I didn't mean like... The usual work luggage, I mean... Me. Did I do something wrong?"

His eyes scan your face carefully, searching for any signs that he should back out, but finding none. Should he tell you? He's never been good with words and honestly, he doesn't even know what he's supposed to say. He can hardly figure out if what he felt was attraction, desire or... Something entirely different. And if he did say anything... What if that changed everything between you? Would you push him away?

Javier Peña was brave enough to take on every single sicario in Medellin all by himself, but he couldn't muster up the bravado he needed to tell the woman he liked about his feelings. Oh, the irony.

"No, sweetheart. You're perfect," he assures, anxiously running a hand through his hair. "I just have stuff to figure out and... My head is a such mess right now."

You nod and smile at him empathetically, a short silence falling upon you. After all, it was only fair that you gave him his space. The man had been through some pretty fucked up shit that most couldn't nearly begin to understand. He looked directly in the face of death every single time he decided to step out that door behind him; so no matter what was troubling him, the most you could do was simply be there if he needed you.

"Don't worry," you say, your hand shooting up to caress the side of his face in a sweet manner. His eyes briefly shut at the contact and a shiver runs down his spine. "I know it's not easy. But I'm sure it'll be fine. I just wanted you to know that... That you can talk to me." Your thumb gently sweeps over his cheekbone, adding to the emotion that your words reflected. "I'm your friend, right? You can trust me... Rely on me, if you need it."

Shit, thaaaat word.

It was heavy, determinant and so fucking hurtful.

Yeah, of course you were friends. And he hated it. Javier didn't want to be your friend. The way he thought about you was not how friends thought about each other. He wanted more... But how much more?

The only lightning in the hallway came from the warm, public streetlights outside, dimly spilling through the windows and creating shadows that highlighted your features perfectly. You couldn't comprehend why his eyes resembled a wounded puppy when you spoke, like you had just said something that conflicted him. His skin felt feverish there were you touched him, heart heavy in his chest. And you were so close to him that your perfume fogged his senses... All he could think about was the fact that he wanted his bedsheets to smell the same way.

All this tension, he wasn't sure if you felt it too, but it was absolutely crushing, suffocating him. He was going to die if he didn't do something. Anything.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart." You frown, confused by his unexpected apology.

"What for?" His hand wrapped around your wrist, swiftly guiding it to his chest, palm flat over his sternum.

He said nothing, nor did he show signs of wanting to. Actions speak louder than words, wasn't that right?

Hell, he was about to find out.

Tossing aside all his fears and doubts, he leaned in towards you, his own hand going to your waist and pulling you closer to him, both your bodies crashing delightfully against the other. It startled you, but not in alarm, though in surprise. Nonetheless, he didn't give you any time to process whatever the situation was.

He gently pressed his lips on tops of yours, just enough for you to push him away if you so desired. And in your mind, all that can be processed is: Javier Peña is kissing me.

It was so sudden that you had to grab his strong arm not to crumble under his embrace. Javier's lips are soft and new, yet somehow... Familiar. His mustache mildly tickles your skin, his cologne going straight to your head. Shit, the way he held you —like you were a fragile little thing— made your legs tremble immediately.

Was this even real? Are you daydreaming again?

No. The answer's no. He is kissing you, right outside your apartment. And of course, you don't hesitate to kiss him back.

He tastes of alcohol, cigarettes and mint.

Your lips moved slowly, letting him explore, feel the area around. All thoughts and questions vanished in thin air, whatever troubles he might've had disappearing when you seemed so responsive to him. You let your purse fall to the floor with a faint thud, your hand snaking to the back of his neck to deepen the kiss, standing on your tippy toes so you could reach his height. He grips your waist tighter, his tongue sliding across your bottom lip and raising goosebumps on your skin. Javier swirls your body to pin you against the wall, mouth over yours at all times.

Your whole world spins with frenzy, overcame by all the unfamiliar sensations that shook you entirely. You had never been kissed with such passion, with a hectic need that ran all the way to your feet. No one had ever made you felt this wanted before.

Javier was over the moon, part of him still incredulous of the fact that you were kissing him back. It didn't seem real, as if this was just another one of his wild fantasies replaying more and more vividly in his head. But it was real and even better than anything he could've pictured. It was consuming.

All the sleepless nights he had spent thinking about the many different ways he could make you his, the countless times he'd imagined himself showing you all the pleasure only he could provide.

But then again, you were so good and so sweet... All the things he could easily corrupt.

Why did he allow himself to feel like this?

You make a sound of protest when he parts from your lips, laying his forehead against yours and panting from the lack of oxygen. Your finger run through his hair while trying to settle down your breathing, a cheeky smile smooshed on your face.  His hold on you softens, one of his hands traveling to your temple, his fingertips mapping every single detail on your skin with smitten eyes. Breathing heavily, you lean in to kiss him again, your lips barely brushing against each other's as he pulled back.

"Javi," you whisper, your voice coming out almost as a plea, "what-"

"I'm sorry," He says again, sounding genuinely guilty. "I'm so sorry, corazón." You swallow hard, unable to understand what he meant. He seals a soft kiss to your forehead and you can't even begin to understand what just happened. "This was a mistake."

Your heart drops with that sentence and you're abruptly stripped away from the warmth of his body as he leaves your side. You want to cry at once, all from the pent-up frustration and sudden bafflement. 

"Javi, wait-" he's already opening the door to his place when you crouch to reach for your bag. "Please." In spite of your concerned calling, he doesn't seem to care, simply closing behind him.

You're left alone in the middle of a brooding, quiet hallway, staring blankly at his door. You want to beg him for an explanation, tear all the walls down and pull an answer out of him. But you know you can't.

Space. He just needs space to sort things out.

So, with your head and feelings all messed up, you go back to your apartment, mad and overall... Hurt.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Next morning, your alarm didn't go off.

Sure, throw more wood into the fire. Whatever.

You didn't sleep much, haunted by the ghost of Javier's lips on yours. Even now, in the solitude of your  bed, you trace the corners of your mouth trying to relive the memory. Yet, that emptiness in your chest didn't seem to fade away. No matter how hard you tried, his words wouldn't stop hammering your head.

This was a mistake.

He said that kissing you was a mistake.

Why? Because he was your co-worker? No. He'd shamelessly slept with many of his co-workers before. Maybe the reason was your friendly bond. Or, perhaps- could it be your age difference? Though Peña didn't come off as someone that would care about that.

For whatever reason, his actions made your blood boil. The more you thought about it —the way he handled things and how he treated you— the angrier you got.

So, naturally, you were late to the office. The last thing you wanted to do was draw his attention to you, but it was practically impossible given the circumstances. Still, you won't give him the satisfaction of seeing how affected you were by last night's incident.

Javier's eyes glued to yours the second you walked in the building, keeping your head held high and a polite smile as you greeted everyone and made your way to your desk. You were dazzling, even more than usual, and he wondered if it was just his mind playing games with him.

Your hands were full, carrying various documents that you held close to your chest; a light, white shirt with a couple buttons undone that bared your neck and collarbones, accentuating your breasts, grazing your figure. But what really got him on edge, was that obscenely tight pencil skirt you were wearing.

"Buenos días, Steve." You nod to the blonde agent.

"Good morning to you too," he said with a wink, watching as you went ahead to your own cubicle, which was right in front of theirs. "A bit late, aren't you?"

"I overslept," was the only explanation.

You didn't even acknowledge Javier's presence. No eye contact, no salute, nothing. He merely saw as you settled all documents down and sat behind your writing desk, paying no mind to him or anyone else as you started reading all the files and folders. Either consciously or not, you left the door to your place semi-open. Murphy followed his gaze, your actions towards his partner not going unnoticed by him. He snapped his fingers in front of the other man's face, bringing his attention back.

"What?"

"What do you mean 'what'?" Steve countered, signaling imaginary quotation marks with his fingers. "What's going on between you two?"

A muscle jumped on Javier's neck, his stare wandering off. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, come on man!" He snorts, maintaining a low tone. "Don't play dumb. I've seen the way you look at her."

Murphy sits on his colleague's desk, grabbing his own coffee mug and settling to look down at him, deeply invested in the topic.

"Seriously?" The brunette man rubs his temples, seeing how determined his friend was. "I just think she's- you know... Attractive."

"Bullshit. Dig deeper, Javs."

The agent sighs in frustration. "The fuck do you want me to tell you, then? You seem to know everything already."

"I'm just thinking what could possibly be the reason why you haven't asked her out yet." He meditates. "Because, honestly, it's only a matter of time before someone else does." Javier's brows knit together in thought. "Just the other day Connie told me she rejected two guys in one night."

"Did she say why?" Steve shakes his head.

"It's pretty obvious, if you ask me."

"How so?" He asks, to which Murphy rubs his eyes with his thumbs, slowly counting to ten in his head.

"You two are fucking blind." He hurls, exasperated. "You like her, she clearly likes you too. What's the damn problem?"

"We don't like each other. That's high school shit, Steve." The mentioned man raised both brows at his comment. "I mean... It's different."

"That doesn't answer my question."

Peña breathes in deeply before doing so. "I don't know. We're... Complete opposites. She couldn't possibly reciprocate. Not like I would like her to, anyway."

Steve's lips pursed in a crooked smile. "So you do like her, then."

"Shit, of course I do!" He hissed. "I think."

"You think?" The blonde takes a sip from his coffee, engaged with the conversation.

"Yeah. I mean-" Javier clears his throat. "It's beyond just physical. That's what's messing with me." He plays with his blue tie when speaking. "Esta mierda me está atormentando. I can't rest well, her scent is all over me the whole damn day. Her eyes, man. I'd be doing the stupidest shit only for her to look my way. She has a contagious laugh..." He recalls, "I don't know if you've noticed."

"Uh-."

"Also, she'd just randomly start spitting the weirdest facts about literally anything. It's scary how much she knows. And I enjoy listening to her." He chuckles at his memories. "I can't get tired, really. I'm never tired of her. Anyone else... I have a limit. Joder. I could listen to her talking for hours and I'd be the happiest man ever. But, whatever this is... It's overwhelming. Cause I can't act on it."

Steve frowns. He couldn't believe that his friend, who was one of the most dedicated, gritty DEA agents he knew, was unable to act on his feelings for a girl. "So, I ask again... What's the problem?"

Before Peña could reply, another woman called their names. It was one of the secretaries with whom he also had had an affair with. Not that it mattered, though.

"Hey, is our translator here already?" She asked with a kind smile, standing in front of them.

"Yeah, she just arrived." Javier responds, "Is there anything we can help you with?" He points the folder she was holding.

"Oh, no. This isn't about that." She giggles, dismissing the question. "But now that you mention it- I'm aware that she's somewhat close to you, so... Do you happen to know if she's seeing anyone at the moment?" Steve shots him a cautious look at her inquiry, but he says nothing, remaining still as a stone.

"No. Not that we know of."

Javier's face twists with a sneer, painfully conscious of what his partner was doing with his answers. But he couldn't quite focus on them anymore, his eyes diverting to your location in hopes to catch a glimpse of your face. You were laid back on your chair, a pair of reading glasses sat on the bridge of your nose while scanning some papers. However, his attention drifted back to their conversation when the woman started explaining the reason of her doubt.

"My cousin is coming for the weekend and he asked me to show him around. It's kind of a set up, really, since my boyfriend's coming too. And well, I've gone out with her a couple of times. She's really nice and friendly... I figured she might be interested."

"I'm sure she'll say yes," Steve replied with animosity, "Where exactly do you plan on going?"

"Ah, there's this place downtown. It's not exactly a club, but a place to dance. Salsa and those sort of things."

The flashing image of you in a short dress, all sweaty while dancing closely with someone else had him feeling unsettled in seconds. Hell no. Once again his train of thought got lost as the woman went into your office, shutting the door behind her and leaving him with an awful taste of bitterness on his tongue.

"Fuck," he mutters, searching for a pack of smokes.

"Clock's ticking, Javs."

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Time passes by quickly.

You come and go in between schedules, only staying in your office when you needed a break. Being Friday, most people had left already, but you still had a couple hours to fill in before going home. And since your work was pretty much done, you decide to sit back and relax, taking out a book from your purse. Although you don't get to read plenty before someone knocks on your door.

"Come in!" You shout in a calm tone, eyes still glued to the pages. Somehow, you knew exactly who it was even before he came in. "Agent Peña," you grit out, not bothering to glance in his direction, "how can I help you?"

He strode his way to the front of your desk, laying both palms down and leaning forwards. "I've been meaning to talk to you." He sounds grim, more serious than he's ever been with you before.

"I don't know if you can tell, but I'm a bit busy right now." Javier calls your name lowly, demanding your attention. Yet, you don't respond.

"Will you please look at me?" He barks in disheartenment. "Please."

You know deep down that if your eyes met his, all your barriers would crumble. But the man had a heavy presence, and it was one you couldn't quite ignore despite all your efforts. You put down the book, glaring up at him in defeat. And shit, you were right. The mere sight of him was all it took for your gaze to soften as he stood before you, his beige suit a bit wrinkled, hair slightly out of place and brown eyes round and big.

"What is it?" You huff, trying not to sound disturbed.

"I wanted to talk about yesterday. I-"

"What about yesterday?" He tilts his head to the side when you cut him off.

"Come on, cariño." Your heart skips a beat at the nickname. "Can we not do this?"

"I'm afraid I don't understand," you retort harshly, "Can we not do what? Act dumb? You are the one that said-"

"I know what I said." He states clearly, "I didn't mean it."

"Which part, exactly? The kiss? Or when you said that it was all a mistake?" Javier's hands rest on his hips as you carry on, "Look, I don't know what kind of treatment you receive from other women, but I'm not one of your pay girls, Peña."

His eyes narrow skeptically, "I'm aware."

You stand up from your seat, but don't approach him yet. "Right. Then why did you do it?" Your eyes pierce his soul with a certain spite. "Am I not good enough for you, Javier?"

He swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down his throat. "How can you say that?"

"That's how you made me feel," you remark.

For a lingering second, none of you say a thing; a tense silence floating between you as you shared an intense, absorbing stare. It was difficult to come up with a reply that wasn't an apology from his part, cause he was past asking for forgiveness over something he didn't regret. He was burdened with the words he said, but not the fact that he kissed you.

And you can't find it in yourself to step away when he moves closer to your body.

He was being unfair, you thought. Every little action he made added to his cruelty; how he'd reach his hands to cup your face, clearly aware of his power over you and the way his eyes were devotedly looking at yours... Why would he do this after the way he treated you yesterday?

What a mean, mean man.

"You have it all wrong, amor," he speaks softly. "I'm the one that's not good enough."

It is as though he just slapped you across the face. "Don't give me that crap," you sulk out, "if you're gonna reject me, better be honest about your reasons." His hands slowly loose their hold on you as he is taken aback with your response, angling his shoulders to square off with you. "Do you not want me? It's okay if I'm not your type, but-"

For a second time, the irrational part of Javier's brain takes over his body and lets it do the work.

He kisses you again, and as of now, he does it most ardently. Just as simple as that, the primal instinct inside you gives in to him. It was unimaginable to think of any other sort of outcome.

He's rough in comparison to the previous kiss you shared; all tongue and teeth, heated and reckless. His hands are never steady, going from your hips to your ass while the other one grips the nape of your neck. You weren't any less eager: fingers running through his hair and fisting his suit jacket. Javier says your name in between the kiss, desperate as he messily tosses aside all the documents on your desk to sit you on top, establishing between your legs.

"How dare you imply I don't want you?" his voice is raspy when he pulls back, cupping your face in his big hand, fingertips digging in your cheeks. His lips move to your ear; heavy, hot breathes hit your skin and ruffle your hair while sending shocks of arousal to your core. "When you've been the only thing I've desired for months. Months, sweetheart. You know the torture you've been putting me through when walking around in these outrageously tight skirts?" You gulp, feeling heat spread on your lower stomach. "Answer, corazón."

"No-" you merely whisper, "I didn't know you... Looked at me like that." He laughs dryly, lips pressed alongside your jaw. "I hoped you did, though."

"Ah, so you did wish to torture me." He pulls your hair to throw your head back and further expose the skin of your neck, ripping a whine from your mouth. "What a merciless woman you are, sweetheart."

You smile unconsciously as your thighs cage his hips. "Me? I'm the one that's had to bear with your constant flirting, watching as you seduced every single woman that you crossed paths with. Oh, and let's not forget all the gossip and rumors I heard about you in the office..."

You feel his smirk graze your skin when his wet kisses slide to your collarbones. "What do they say?"

"That you're..." it becomes hard to talk when your mind can't think straight, "Amazing." His hand sets on your lower back in order to bring your body closer to his. "And so big..."

He comes back to your lips and you welcome him with an open mouth. Javier grunts when you mildly scratch his scalp and the sound makes your legs shake. Your lips only separate when oxygen suddenly becomes a necessity, and the way he looks down at you —hungrily, eyes darkened with lust—, makes your insides burn. His hand takes your wrist and carefully slides it across his shoulder and above his abdomen, letting your palm rest over the front of his pants, allowing you to feel how hard he's gotten just from the make out.

"See for yourself," he grumbles hoarsely. With a vicious grin, you apply pressure to his bulge, relishing in the throaty groan he lets out. "Still think I don't want you?"

"M’not sure." In response, Javier hums in your ear. "I might need a little more convincing."

"Oh, you will have it, corazón," he coos. "Yesterday you said that no man has ever given you an orgasm. Is that right?"

"Yes."

"Can I change that?" The heat in your core expands to every cell in your body at the proposal.

"Please," something shifts in his gaze when you verbally express your desire for him. He is finally getting what he has longed for during all this time.

At this point, none you could care any less about the place. The building was nearly empty anyways. Only now, with his head buried between your breasts and fingers caressing the flesh of your thighs, do all the thoughts and fears in Javier's mind dissipate.

He's got you were he wanted you all along.

He unbuttons your blouse, but doesn't remove your bra, his hands too busy while pulling your skirt all the way up to your hips, exposing your plain black underwear. A cocky smile spreads across his face at the sight of how soaked you are already. You start panting, growing embarrassed when he lowers himself to his knees in front on you, avoiding all eye contact.

"What are you doing?" You blurt out, suddenly a bit shy.

"What?" He holds your knees to keep your legs apart, staring solely at your face. "Don't tell me that..." his expression becomes incredulous, "Three years and that boy never tasted this pussy?"

The heat on your face grows exponentially, "No one has."

"Shit, I'm one lucky bastard," he mumbles, mouth roaming your inner thighs. Javier senses how tense you are, probably feeling self-conscious. "Don't think too much about it, sweetheart. Just allow yourself to feel good, okay? I'll make sure to give you a good time."

"But-" air catches in your lungs when he nibbles the sensitive skin, "what about you?"

"Me?" He chuckles shortly, "Trust me, corazón. I do this mainly for myself."

You babble something that he doesn't quite hear, his fingers hooking on your panties to tug them down, dazed with excitement. He discards the clothing carelessly and throws your legs over his broad shoulders. The agent's eyes bore into yours, enjoying your flustered behavior as he calls your name soothingly.

"Look at me, hermosa," it sounds like an order, despite the soft tone. "Look at me."

You oblige, breath catching in your throat when he licks his lips and finally gets the view of your slick, exposed pussy. He dives in without wasting any time, flattening his tongue against your clit, circling a couple of times before easing a finger into you, moving it in and out at a steady pace.

"Fuck, Javi-" you cry, trying to muffle your moans in case anyone's around. And you practically feel him laugh at your vain attempts of keeping them on the low.

You briefly shut your eyes when he adds a second finger, curling them to hit all the right spots, making you throw your head back. You're positively dripping down your work desk, knuckles going white while holding it to keep yourself grounded.

"Come on, preciosa," his voice forces you to glance back at him, "told you to look." He takes his fingers out and you can't help but whine at the emptiness he left behind. "None of that, corazón." He reaches for your arm, taking your hand and placing it on his soft, fluffy hair. "Use me."

You can possibly cum just from that. The single image of him kneeled before you, head between your legs, eyes dark and greedy while asking to be used by you. It seemed like an image pulled from one of your darkest fantasies.

And fucking hell, did he look like one dark fantasy himself.

Your fingers run through his curls at the time as his mouth starts working you open, his tongue parting your folds and lapping up your slick avidly, tasting from every angle. The sudden action makes you squeal in surprise and pleasure, your legs tightening around his head instinctively. Consequently, he groans involuntarily and you mumble an apology, his hands coming to keep your thighs spread.

"Don't apologize," he says breathlessly, "that was fucking hot."

As he eats you out, his tongue finds the places that made your body shake and have your hips grinding against his face. He can't help but bask in the glorious view of you, all splayed out for him, the curve of your breasts as your chest rises and falls from the ragged breathing, cheeks flushed red and plump lips parted while looking down at him, eyes now hooded beneath heavy lids. He dreamt about this before. How you'd taste like, what you'd look like, the noises you'd make. Fuck, he saw this exact moment for weeks, playing in his sleep like a loop he couldn't escape from, waking up every morning with a hard on he could rarely get rid of with a simple cold shower.

This- shit, he's mesmerized.

His right hand coasts down to palm himself through his pants, just enough to relieve some of the ache he felt. He moans and the action sends vibrations throughout your body.

"Yes- keep going, please..." you feel so close now, your whole body trembling and abdomen tightening. "Javi, that's amazing."

You're euphoric, experiencing something unlike anything you've had before, aware of sensations you didn't know you could feel. His nose nudges your clit repeatedly and everything simply explodes. You pull his hair as a warning, eliciting a deep, guttural groan from him; but Javier simply grasps your thighs harder.

It takes seconds for you to reach your high, eyes teary and vision blurry from the shocking ecstasy that this new experience brought. He licks you clean before standing up slowly, softly stroking your exposed skin and aiming to grab a tissue from your desk, helping you rearrange your skirt and underwear.

"How was that?" he asks, wiping over his mustache while looking at you mischievously.

You can't think of any way to answer that could explain what you just felt; instead, you grab his tie and drag him towards you. He laughs gleefully when you search for his lips, covering half your face with his palm, gently brushing your cheekbone with his thumb before actually kissing you.

This time it's different. Deep, but not as hungry; simply affectionate. You can't breathe and it feels like you're floating. His eyes seem out of focus when your lips set apart and you can tell just how stupidly drunk he is. Drunk on you.

"Never thought I could feel... I wouldn't even know how to describe it," you mumble, tracing the lapels of his jacket.  "I didn't even think it was possible to be so... Wet, I guess."

He cackles. "Glad to know I'm doing my job right," you give him a half smile in return. "Though I still can't believe that somewhere in this world there's a son of a bitch who was lucky enough to have you by his side for years, and never even tried to give you head." You roll your eyes, slightly embarrassed. "Seriously. If I were your man, I'd be begging for you to give me a taste. A la mierda eso, I'll beg you now."

Despite the joking note, he kind of meant it. Now that he had taken a bite from the forbidden fruit, he needed the whole damn thing.

"Gracias, Javi." You peck his lips, mind still clouded from the post-orgasm bliss. "Can I return the favor?"

He blinks a couple of times, "I- you don't have to. I didn't do it because I was expecting you to-"

"I know, Javier," you reassure. "But trust me... I want to." 

One of these days you're going to give the poor man a heart-attack. Somehow, you always manage to say the things exactly how he wants to hear them and precisely how he never expects you to say them. 

"Está bien, corazón."

You press a hand to his chest and softly push him backwards, "Take a seat." He lifts an eyebrow in surprise, but still does as told, immersed in this new dynamic. 

He sits on your chair, legs spread just enough to give you room to settle. It's now your turn to be on your knees for him, every move you made being monitored by his keen eyes. Javier's heart is beating so fast it actually hurts. He feels as if this was his first time getting blown, like he doesn't even know what to do with himself despite his experienced record. You're fairly inexperienced in this area, but he gave you enough confidence and safety to ask. Your face rests on his inner thigh as you look up at him through your lashes.

"Tell me, Javi. How do you like it?" you ask, losing coyness and slowly unbuckling his belt without breaking eye contact. "Would you like me to gag on it?" His eyes widen at the question, "Do you prefer it if I lick or spit? Tell me how to please you, Javier."

He inhales sharply, "fucking hell", you smile at him when pulling down the zipper delicately, "I want you to stop talking or else I might just lose it."

"Oh," you palm him through his briefs, feeling his hard, hot cock throbbing under your touch, "so you like my voice?"

He tangles his fingers in your hair, "I like everything about you, if that's where we're going." Not a second after speaking, the phone on your desk started ringing and he shot you a cagey glance.

"Answer it," you tell him, pressing light kisses to his clothed crotch.

"¿Ahora?" Your eyes sparkle with a certain naughtiness that he didn't think you were capable of having.

"Sí, Javier. Pick up the phone." Cautious, he reaches for it and takes the call reluctantly.

"Peña," he sulks out as you swirl your tongue over the damp spot that had formed on his underwear. His eyes shut for a split second and his entire body shivers. "No está aquí. ¿Le paso algún mensaje?"

To be fair, you were there, probably just a little too tongue-tied to answer. There was no shame in admitting how much you were enjoying pulling him out and rejoicing yourself in every single contented sigh, jolt, or twitch he made when you started stroking him. Whomever was calling clearly had an important matter with you, since he wasn't hanging up and was struggling to keep up with the other side of the line, simply grumbling affirmations such as 'sí, entiendo, ajá'. And you were painfully teasing the man, as if he wasn't worked up enough.

"The rumors were true, I see..." you ramble and watch him smirk at your comment.

You give a firm squeeze to the base, pumping a few times before twisting at the head, already leaking all over himself. He can't look at you and he's set on that, one hand white-knuckling the edge of your desk as the other holds the phone, mouth agape. But it was unfair. You wanted his attention; all of it. Even if that meant getting caught.

So, in order to get it, you slowly lick the tip and gather the precum that oozed there on your tongue, growing rather fond of its salty flavor. He snarls, eyeing you in a grave manner. But for god's sake, the sole look on your face when taking his cock fully into your mouth could send him into oblivion.

"Yo se lo haré saber." Was the last thing Javier said before abruptly ending the call, immediately letting out the lewdest moan you've heard of him so far. And that alone is making you wet all over again. "You truly are something else," he rumbles between heavy, shallow breaths. "Putting on a little show like that- Fuck."

His hips jump upwards when you take him farther, his fingers running through your hair as he mumbles an apology. Your jaw goes slack once you start bobbing your head up and down his length, your throat and mouth feeling so full of him, lips cradled around his length as if it was your life purpose.

He was panting, groaning and calling your name repeatedly, murmuring praises that encouraged you to take him deeper. His thighs tremble every time you hollow your cheeks around him or run your tongue on the underside of his dick. Your hand goes to massage his balls and he throws his head back in sheer pleasure, cursing under his breath.

Never had you given such a messy blowjob before, drool dripping all over him and your free hand going to rub your clit over your panties, cunt aching for him once more. But he throughly enjoyed it like this. How you moaned around him, the way you lapped at his slit and sucked him earnestly. And it goes without saying how much you loved it too.

"Shit, that's it-" you know he's close when his words become incoherent, his breath disjointed and muscles tightened.

You pull back shortly, your hand still jerking him off, "I want to swallow it," you purr, his hand gripping the back of your neck.

"Yes, god- yes."

Despite the lightheaded feeling, you take him in your mouth again, going as far as you could. His eyes lock with yours and that's all it takes for his load to spill all over your tongue and down your throat, his orgasm hitting hard. You do as you said, not giving much thought to it and purely admiring how fine he looked in this precise moment, absolutely lost in his pleasure. Once he finally rode it out, you release him, gently kissing the tip. He sighs loudly, his soft whimpers barely audible as the aftershocks of his high strike his body.

You can't help but smile as you stand in your feet, knees surely bruised. He looks up at you, shaking his head and mirroring your expression before rearranging his pants and straightening his suit. It's like he was seeing you for the first time, now in a completely different light.

"Want a ride home?" your response was obvious.

Javier had completely forgotten the reason why he came to your office in the first place.

And the lack of information gave you the wrong idea of why he really came looking for you.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Saturdays were meant to be enjoyed. They were supposed to be rest days, used to spend time with friends or family, maybe go to a club or join someone for a roadtrip. They definitely weren't meant to be dull, and let them pass by with tons of shitty work.

Javier and Steve had been all day locked up in Murphy's apartment, going through some of the most recent information regarding the cartel. Connie was there too, not really participating but giving them moral support and, more importantly, beers. Peña constantly went in and out, going to his own apartment to gather some more papers, and even taking a second shower to clear his head. He was hugely stressed.

"I'm spent." He complained. "Nothing new is going to happen today, I'm dropping this for the night."

His friend nodded in agreement, suddenly distraught by his wife cursing out of nowhere. "Everything alright?"

"It's raining," she said, looking through the window. Javier wasn't paying that much attention until she mentioned your name. "She had a date tonight. I helped her pick up a dress and..."

His head turned at that, wincing. "A date?"

"Yeah, sort of. Mia invited her. You know, the secretary." Steve's eyes narrowed.

"You said you talked to her," he hushed. 

"I did..." Javier clears his throat, "I mean, no. Not exactly."

The blonde frowns, "so what happened, then?" his partner shrugs, a dim grin drawn on his lips. "Actually, I don't want to know."

"I dropped her off here," he explained, "after... Well, it doesn't matter. There just wasn't a particular talk about the subject."

Steve intends to say something, but the other man solely ignores him, gathering his stuff quickly in order to not dive in that distinct topic that could only spur him on in the wrong ways. And frankly, he didn't want to talk about it. All the choices he made were mistaken and it was entirely his own fault.

So what if you had a date? How did that concern him? The other night you were pretty clear about wanting to have something with 'no feelings, no strings attached, just fun'. He was merely helping you out, as a friend. Nothing else. Because, at the end of the day, he couldn't really be anything else besides that. And he wasn't able to figure out if he wanted anything more; much less deserve it.

Javier walked off to his apartment, mind wrapped around you.

The rain had gotten worse since he left, lightings striking across the sky and raindrops crashing violently against the closed windows. The weather did not seem to help dissipate his troubled thinking. He didn't even realize his feet had stopped moving right outside your door, nor when his hand knocked on it.

You were shocked to hear that you had visitors, and the feeling sank deeper when you saw him standing there with a stern face, arms crossed above his chest. He appeared to be upset, in a way you hadn't yet seen him. However, when his eyes roamed your body you were able to pick up on his tensing muscles.

"Am I walking in on something?" he questions lightheartedly.

You shake your head and farther open the door to invite him in. "I had plans today but we had to reschedule."

Javier decided to play dumb, "What sort of plans?" You dismissed the inquiry with a subtle hand gesture, locking behind him. "You look stunning, by the way."

It was nothing but true and it made it difficult for him to focus on whatever he came here to do. Your hair and makeup were done differently tonight and the red dress you were wearing wasn't exactly discrete, but neither revealing.

"Thanks. You yourself look very handsome too." He snorted sarcastically. "But I bet you already knew that."

In your eyes he always did look charming, but at the moment the vibe was outstanding. His hair was curlier than usual, —probably due to the humidity in the air— and he was wearing a black shirt with plenty of undone buttons that gave a nice view of his golden skin, paired with those pants that would just stick to him like a second skin. There was also that tension in his posture that gave a certain roughness to his exterior, in some way making him more alluring.

"So, what brings you here? As I said, I had plans but now that they're off the table..." He wasn't looking at you, playing around with his fingers, "Would you like to watch a movie? I still have the dvd we rented-"

"I need to talk to you." He blurted out, readjusting the watch on his wrist.

You blinked in confusion, "Sure, what is it?"

His mouth dried all of the sudden, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. "I- don't know how to say this..."

"Maybe sit back and- I'll pour you a drink." You don't wait around for his reply, walking straight to the kitchen. The place wasn't big, so everything was pretty much in the same space.

Javier sat down on the big, brown armchair, feeling the leather crack under his weight. Beside him there was a small reading table decorated with a vintage lamp and an ashtray that you had gotten specifically for whenever he came to visit, along with a pack of smokes. The lights in your apartment were warm and almost all of them were on due to the lack of light that the night and the rainclouds provided. But even now, the chill air from outside could somehow still be felt. Truth be told, it was actually quite cozy to you.

"It's about yesterday," you hear him say while poring some whiskey into two glasses. The mention of the subject makes your heart flutter.

Talk about deja vu.

"Yesterday?" Anxiety drifted your thoughts through the worst scenarios possible. "Oh, don't worry about it, Peña. You don't have to give me 'the talk'. We're still friends, alright? Nothing's changed."

You couldn't possibly tell how he physically flinched at your declaration, neither how much it stung. You cross the living room to sit on the couch across him, barely on the edge of it so your bare legs were still flushed to his knees. He takes the glass you offer, but instead of drinking, he sets it down on the table.

"So it meant nothing to you," the man asks in a low voice. "Right, cariño?"

Shit, of course it meant something. But you could not tell him. Not him.

Javier was the type of man that would sleep with you and then move on. He wasn't a jerk, but this heartless fame that he had didn't help. Telling him about your crush and how the events that went down yesterday simply encouraged it was like signing a death sentence to any bond that you two had at the time. And you sincerely didn't want to say goodbye to whatever it was that you both had built together.

"Yeah, we were just fooling around," you said, taking a sip from the alcohol before placing the glass next to his.

"Fooling around," he echoes your phrase, his mustache twitching prior to swallowing down the drink.

"Whoa- Is everything okay? I feel like you're keeping stuff to yourself." His behavior was starting to get you worried.

"I'm merely realizing how stupid I am." Javier's hand reaches for the pack of cigarettes and he sloppily takes one out.

"What do you mean?" You wonder, moving your feet nervously.

"It doesn't matter," he objects, a sardonic air in his voice and mannerisms. "You got a light?"

Puzzled, you take a lighter from your purse, glancing at him in bewilderment. "Did you want it to mean something?"

"Maybe," he shrugs, "I don't know."

The fag hangs loosely from his lips, but you don't hand him the flame just yet, your next movement catching him completely off-guard.

You stand to sit on his lap, forcing his focus on nothing else besides your presence, your body, on you. His chin tilts upwards, eyes fixed on your face with a perplexed spark.

"Talk to me, Javi," you plead softly, your left hand resting on his exposed chest as the other lights the end of the orange filter, the fire illuminating his dark, beautiful gaze. "For once, be honest me. O por lo menos sé honesto contigo mismo."

His heart pounds relentlessly and he's absolutely sure you can tell. Despite the cold ambience, his skin was burning hot under your touch, muscles finally starting to relax underneath you. Javier takes a long drag, his elbow propped up on the armrest as his other hand lays flat on your spine.

"You already know everything, corazón."

"I do not, Peña." You clutch his shirt in anger. "What's up with you? Ever since I came to Colombia you've been turning my life upside down. You never wanted me to go out with anyone, always using the same stupid excuses about it being 'too dangerous', as if I was just some silly kid that couldn't take care of herself." He feels your weight shift on top of him, and it's so distracting that he can barely keep up. "But you also didn't seem to want me. Every other single woman in this country was worthy of your time and recognition; everyone but me. I've been open with you, I've been vulnerable, and you... you just keep sending this mixed signals that are driving me insane! This push and pull game has to stop. What- What do you want from me?"

Screw it.

Screw all of it.

The nicotine in his system kicked in, your smell probably more intoxicating than the alcohol he just drank. Javier wanted answers, but he needed to be straightforward in order to get them.

"You, sweetheart. I want you."

A small frown forms on your face, "Me?" your voice comes out unsure, "Why me?"

His head jerks backwards, hitting the backrest of the seat, a cloud of smoke dancing in between you from the red, burning dart. "You're seriously asking me why I like you?"

"Clearly."

He laughs wryly. "Yo qué coño he de saber, hermosa. I genuinely don't know. 'Been trying to figure it out for a while now, but it's a dead end. You're naive and short tempered, but also sweet and smart. Too fucking much, I might say. Too smart to be seduced by me." You giggle and as he said before, it's contagious. "Which is why I never told you. I didn't want to... Lose you."

And then it clicks for you.

It wasn't that Javier didn't want to be with you. It was that he didn't want you to be part of his world. Yes, you are young and certainly unaware of many things. In contrast, he feels corrupted. He was part of a crude, violent world that would endanger your safety, sanity— your precious ignorance that kept your life so pure. He convinced himself you didn’t feel the same so he wouldn’t have to face the truth.

It must've been hard for him to admit, you know it. Cause it was for you as well.

"Javi, you know the first thing my coworkers told me when I started hanging out with you?" He smiles playfully and shakes his head briefly. "That they knew I was gullible and I shouldn't fall for your gentlemanly façade, cause I'd only end up with a broken heart." Javier stares back into your eyes fixedly, unfazed by your words. You wriggle on his lap, straddling him. "You wanna know the truth?"

"Enlighten me."

Your dress is hitched up, the naked skin of your legs taunts him, your knees spread around his thighs in a way that has his head spinning. You're electrifyingly close. And yet so far at the same time.

"I tried to listen. But failed miserably," you say lowly. "I- " the pads of his fingers rub soothing circles on your upper leg, "I kinda... Fell for you. Shit, I'd get so jealous when your 'informants' would ring the office's phone."

He smiles, full lips parting around the cigarette. "I fucking knew it." You snort, tracing his collarbones with your index. "Why didn't you do something?"

"I didn't want to be tossed aside," you admit in shame.

His eyebrows twinge slightly as he ashes the filter, "You really think that low of me?", he scoffs.

Up until now, you hadn't realize that those words could potentially hurt him. "No. But I was scared and had to look out for myself. After one disastrous long-term relationship, falling for someone as exciting and... outgoing, wasn't my most clever move."

His body goes limp below you, eyes meeting yours with a hint of yearning mixed with soreness. "I see. I'm an asshole that will break your heart. Anything else?"

Shit. Shit. Shit.

"Javi, that's not what I meant..." you cry, but his gaze is dark and stern, dangerous to a certain extent. It makes your stomach turn to think that you might've offended him. "You know I-"

Nothing else comes out, phrases getting stuck in your throat. His hands are no longer on you and the silence and impassivity he exudes are unbearable.

"Show me," he coaxes, and it takes you second to comprehend what he means, until he talks again. "Show me you're not scared anymore."

In other words, Javier wanted you to prove him how much you wanted him. He blows the smoke right in front of your face and other than finding it annoying, you think it's rather hot.

You duck down, both your hands on his shoulders as you shift your weight on top of him. He still doesn't move a a muscle, solely watching as your lips inch closer to his. When they barely brush against the other's, he vaguely turns his face away, doing this a couple of times as a way to provoke you.

"¿Acaso no quieres besarme?" you grumble.

"Al contrario, corazón." Peña admits, "Pero quiero que tú también lo desees. Quiero que tengas tantas ganas de besarme que no puedas contenerte. That way you'll understand what I've felt for the last five months."

So that was the catch. You give him a smug smile, snatching the cigarette from between his fingers and taking a drag under his piercing gaze, blindly putting it out before crashing your lips against his. Your hands hold his face, thumbs running along his jawline as he eagerly kisses you back. The agent groans when you exhale into his mouth, the smoke rolling off your tongue right into his own.

His hands coast up your thighs, slowly making their way to your ass beneath the fabric of your dress as you sigh against his lips when he firmly squeezes the flesh. The kiss is sloppy and abrasive, needy and sensual. He holds the back of your neck with one hand while his lips travel south, caressing and nipping your jaw and bare shoulders.

You grind your hips against his slowly, feeling the excitement between his legs and your own arousal growing. You watch as he delicately tugs down the straps of your dress, letting them fall loosely on your arms and deepening the low-cut on the front, your breasts spilling out.

"No bra? You really had everything sorted out, didn't you?" His voice is lust-strained, eyes gazing up before burying his face between your tits.

"Christ-"

Your nails dig on his shirt when you find a steady pace that creates just the right amount of friction between your clit and the hard bulge on his pants. All the while, Javier tweaks your nipple with his fingers, flicking his tongue over the other— thus, you become noisier.

"Don't worry, hermosa," he whispers, "I'll make sure to treat you how you deserve. So you won't think of running off with another man ever again."

You hum, ruffling his hair while he worked at your sensitive bud, groping your breast with a hand as the other guided the movements of your hips. You're wet in seconds, the smell of his soap making you all fuzzy, added to the constant stimulation he was providing.

"No, Javier." You huff, nuzzling your face on the crook of his neck, peppering kisses all over the exposed area.

Both his hands are now on your hips, barely holding as he lets you do as you please. The buttons of his shirt scrape your delicate nipples, increasing the ache on your cunt. He's panting, growing weak with the sound of your moans, the feeling of your lips on him, your tongue licking the hot skin, —strictly where his pulse could be felt— and Jesus- the way you moved had him throbbing painfully. You take a second to contemplate in gratification just how wild you could drive a man even without actually letting him fuck you. It made you realize exactly how much power you had over him.

"No? No, what?" He muses.

"I don't want any other man. You've ruined me for them." Wordlessly, he follows your motions as you sit back on his legs. His eyebrows jump up when he sees the mess you'd made on his pants, guessing your underwear must be drenched by now. Your fingers creep towards his belt, leisurely undoing it along with the fly. "I didn't want anyone else. And after what happened at my office... I was doomed."

The man exhales heavily, running a hand through your locks. His eyes gleam endearingly —such a rare sight on him—, something you're certain it's strictly for you.

"Kiss me again."

It doesn't sound like an order, but a plea.

And how could you say no to him?

When your lips crash together once more, it's like heaven on earth. Everything's blurry, even the storm outside disappeared. All that matters is this precise moment.

His fingers loom over your panties, gasping in your mouth at the dampness that welcomes him. He rubs his thumb over your clit, snatching a small whine from you as he impatiently pushes the fabric to the side. Instinctively, your hand slithers towards his lower abdomen, grasping the base of his already hard cock to pull it out and slowly coming to rub the wet tip. Gently, you bite his bottom lip before breaking apart from the kiss, making him groan in protest. His digits glide between your folds as he eases two fingers inside, making your knees feel weak around him.

"Fuck, Javi-" you grip his shoulder for support when he adds a third one, fascinated by how responsive your body was reacting. "Please..."

"Hm?" he kisses your temple lovingly, "What do you need, sweetheart?"

"You. Inside." How pathetic, you thought. Begging like this— well, it was certainly something a man like him would love. But you'd never experienced this sort of passion, where you desperately wanted to get dicked-down. Javier showed what it is to want, and to be wanted. "Please, I can't- wait any longer."

"Here?" a faint nod, "you want to take control?"

Timidly, you tug at his shirt and search for his eyes. "I've- I have never done this before... Been on top, I mean."

The agent snorts in disbelief. "Seriously? Can't fucking believe it." He still work at your core, ripping out silly whimpers from you. "No te preocupes por eso, corazón. I can guide you, if that's what you want."

"Yes." You reply almost immediately, "Of course, only if you'd like that too-" he takes his fingers out and guides them straight to his lips, licking them clean.

"I'll do anything you ask, hermosa. Just say the word."

For the love of god.

"You can do with me as you please, Javier." You utter, "I'm yours anyway."

His eyelashes bat twice, taking in your words. Then, his lips curl up in a smile and things happen very quick, in a way you can barely register what's going on. He holds you up with one arm, pulling his pants down just enough to give himself some mobility and manhandling you into a position were you could receive him with no trouble. This way, the head grazes your entrance and the sensation is already making your nerves buzz.

"Go on, sit on it."

You use the back of the seat for support and let the man guide you, feeling your back arch in ecstasy as you slowly adapt to his size. He stretches your walls deliciously, though it takes a lot of effort not to collapse on top of him.

"That's it, baby. You're doing so good,” Javier says, voice shaky between shallow breaths. "You look so pretty taking me like this."

"You're so big-" you manage to say, your hands digging into the leather material to keep yourself put together as you settle every last inch of him inside you. And indeed, he was fucking huge in comparison to anyone else you had before.

"Don't close your eyes," he tells you, "Look at me. Mírame a los ojos, preciosa." And so you do, his dark, ardent gaze is all you can see. "Look into my eyes when you ride."

He fills you up entirely and his words make your chest flutter, absolutely lost in everything he was giving you; his scent, his stare, his body. Simply him. Javier Peña.

You're determined to please him, to show that you can be everything he's ever wanted and more. In the midst of all, you lay a hand on his chest for stability as your hips roll to set a pace, struggling to maintain focus when his cock was hitting spots inside that continuously sent drops of liquid pleasure down your spine.

"That's my girl," he coos, pressing light-feathery kisses to your jaw. "My beautiful girl."

Oh, that was it.

His voice, filled with lust and admiration, makes your head spin and heart pound relentlessly. Even though you want to say something in return, you can't muster up the words, reckless cries being the only sound leaving your lips.

You have completely lost any sanity left in you, consumed by this new light of passion that he has managed to ignite. And Javier loves it. He loved that etching confidence in your eyes and the way your tits bounced in front of his face as you jumped up and down his cock, moaning his name. He's in fucking paradise.

His hands slither towards your ass, splaying his palms to hold you. He helps you out, thrusting his hips up deeply, harshly; filling every spot you were unable to. Your bodies move in synch, unconsciously attuned to recognize each other's desires. It amazes you just how much fulfillment you can receive from sex, when in the past it was nothing more but pain and nuisance, a simple duty to make a man happy. Now you see it: your pleasure was his pleasure too. It became crystal clear with each kiss, every touch or shared glance.

"Javi- I can't..." inevitably, you collapse on his shoulder, your legs growing weaker by the second.

You feel warm all over, the storm sounds mixed with the filthiness of his groans and sexual demeanors thickened the air. He embraces you with one arm around your waist and a hand on the back of your neck, keeping you still and taking over the situation. Your fingernails lightly scratch his scalp as he grinds his cock inside you, building an amazing heat between your thighs and making that bundle of nerves pulse each time it grazed the buttons of his shirt.

In the thick of the moment, you lick the delicate area in the underside of his ear, raising goosebumps on his skin and drawing a gruffly moan from his lips. He can tell how close you are, in fact, he can feel it; your pussy swallowing him whole and clenching tightly around his throbbing shaft, edging him further.

"I won't last," you warn, dragging your nails over his shoulders, under the shirt. "Javi, it's too much- I feel so..."

"Fuck- I know, corazón," he grumbles, his thrusts become rougher and it makes your head spin. "Say it again."

You know what he wants to hear, it's perfectly simple to figure out.

For heaven's sake, he looks divine. His lips slightly parted, head thrown back and a fire gleaming behind his brown orbs, focused merely on you. He grounds you with a grip of steel on your hip while your fingertips roam across his features, wanting to imprint this exact moment in your mind forever.

"I'm yours, Javi." It comes out as a devoted prayer as he leans forward to kiss the hollow of your throat, his teeth and mustache teasing your reddened skin.

"That's right," he grunts, the sound of his hoarse breaths and your dripping cunt suddenly being muffled by a whir in your ears and your vision going hazy. 

Javier takes great pride in your corrupted expression and the broken whines that escape your mouth when you finally reach your high. His pace quickens and he cradles you in his arms, your hands enveloping his neck as your whole body quivers from the intensity of your orgasm, still crashing into you. He can't hold back his own noises, chasing his release desperately while also fucking you through yours. This angle where his lower body is firmly pressed against your pelvis applies new pressure to your clit in a way that has you calling for god.

And the way you soak him down to his thighs, the way you squeeze around his length— has him coming with one last, deep thrust of his hips. He calls your name but you can barely hear it, too distracted by the warmth of his cum inside you.

Even after he's finished, Javier won't let go of you. Not that you want him to anyway.

He takes a second to revel in the moment, knowing he had been craving this ever since he laid eyes on you. You can feel his heart hammering under you, feel the way he —rather slowly— softens inside and both your bodies go limb.

And still, he refuses to part, swaying a palm across your bare back. You feel sore, sticky, but overall, serene. At peace. 

"Javi?" you say his name and it sounded perfectly poised despite your exhausted exterior.

"Mhm?" your hot breath hits his golden skin as you try to settle down your accelerated pulse and failing miserably at the sight of his adoring smile. "What is it, preciosa?"

"Would you stay the night?" He laughs breathlessly at your unsure tone.

"On one condition," he muses, picking your interest. "Promise you won't go out on that date."

"I don't know..." you play dumb, bucking up to get on your feet while struggling with your wobbly legs. "It's not exactly a date so, does it matter?"

You rearrange your dress and ruined underwear, settling on the couch beside him as he mirrors your action.

"Not really, no," he's very aware of your taunting and is willing to lead you on. "But you've made me greedy. Now I want you all to myself."

His words draw a smirk on your face. "Are you saying you'd be jealous?" The agent shrugs, aiming for another cigarette. "I won't go. Though, I ought to give Mia a good excuse for canceling our plans."

Javier smiles cockily, taking the unlit dart to his lips. "Just tell her you've already got a man waiting for you."