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furious-rogue-stuff · 3 years ago

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Heat Chapter 25: Heightened

A super-sized chapter due to being quite plot-heavy, so definitely hoping it’s not pushing the envelope into chore-reading 😬

If you’d like to be added to the tag list, please let me know~!

Pairing: Javier Peña x OFC | Javi x Querida

Disclaimer: Written in 2nd person narrative, you can safely assume our heroine and love/lust interest is a Latina, written by a Latina. Here's my philosophy on my writing, for further context.

Rating: Mature/Explicit 🔞

Word Count: 23,000+

Summary: You both have so much to look forward to, so when challenges arise to derail Javi, you find yourself struggling to keep both of you afloat from going under. Will your unflinching love be enough to shelter each other from the impending tumult?

Warnings: The WONDERFUL Javier Peña, graphic depictions of oral (f receiving) and unprotected sex. Mentions of menstrual cycles, period sex, rough intercourse, dom/sub play, cum play, size kink, dirty talk, and praise kink. Some Dom!Javi, Wrathful!Javi, and Possessive!Javi. In the vein of Narcos being a bilingual show, and Javier Peña being fluent, I felt it was apropos to include Spanglish and Spanish throughout.

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Previous chapter - Chapter 24: Chemistry

Chapter 25: Heightened

You have to admit it. Coming into work from Javi's is so much better than having to slog a half hour from your side of town. Even with traffic, his place is ten minutes away from the embassy, which is wildly convenient on a day you risked being a few minutes late to your staff meeting. Thankfully, you make it up with enough time to deposit your purse and tote in your office and stroll down to the conference room without looking harried.

It would be a salacious lie for you to pretend you're not still alight and aflutter after your heart-to-heart with Javier earlier, though, so you do your best to mask your giddy joy from your savvy subordinates. Of course, Ellis eagle-eye-spies it in you regardless, and during your late morning meeting catch-up in your office, he tries peppering you with leading questions.

"—Fancy night out later?"

"Nope."

"Oh, quiet dinner at home?"

"…Perhaps."

"His place, or yours?"

"Ellis, quit it," you scoff and wave him out. When he pouts and gives you a doe-eyed beckon, you sigh. "I'll be more amenable to answering during lunch," is your relenting musing as you direct your attention to your laptop screen, typing away.

He actually fist-pumps in triumph before sobering with a grunt of, "Oh, by the way – Crosby's office asked for a meeting with you tomorrow. I had to move the conference call with the field offices to end of day."

"Huh, that should be fine," you remark, glancing up and asking, "Any mention as to what the meeting is about?"

"Zilch, but I heard there's a big inter-agency thing with CNP that is gonna be a prickly affair early tomorrow, so maybe it'll be to fill you in on that?" he theorizes, shrugging before looking at his watch. "Gotta run. Lunch in here later?"

"Sounds good," you chime and smile, watching him lope out before returning to your work.

Meanwhile, Javier's on cloud nine. His usually brooding and curt demeanor is stowed, making him easygoing and approachable today, which has the attentive members of his staff taking notice, especially Stoddard. Even when Javier accidentally pinches his fingertip in his desk filing cabinet drawer hard enough to bruise his nail, he only hissed a swear and sucked on his forefinger instinctually instead of react like a furious bull as he would've normally from the inconvenience. The younger man walks in with the latest in surveillance logs, and rather than the scowl he usually gets from the seasoned agent, he gets a friendly nod of acknowledgement as he places the files in his boss' hand. "The latest from the field offices, sir. Just need you to review and sign before I submit them," he recites before segueing to, "I spoke to Deputy Rose, and he mentioned having a progress session with the resource whose been managing the pilot program onboarding. I'll know if there's any continued resistance from our team later today."

"Great. Make sure you flag to him that any other issues should be communicated to you as soon as they happen," Javier instructs as he reaches for a cigarette, surrendering to the urge after not having one last night or eating breakfast earlier. It should curb his appetite until lunch, or so is his justification for lighting up. "Also," he remarks before exhaling the puff of smoke and sitting back in his desk chair. "Any developments on the wiretap?"

Shaking his head, Stoddard replies, "Nothing yet, boss. But based on the conversations, I doubt he's going to mention his location."

"Regardless, keep 'em your top priority. They're our only lead," Javi grumbles, eyeing the clearly hesitant man. "Any word from Feistl or Van Ness?"

"Just a check-in about trying to get a CNP chaperone to take them to some locations they wanted to vet. Feistl seemed testy," he tells Javi, and when he just deadpan stares at him, Stoddard clears his throat and states he'll stop back to collect the logs when he's through with them.

Once he's alone, Javi shakes his head and finishes his cigarette. He can sense that Stoddard's about to buckle, but he hopes he does it after they get Jurado's location. While he puts out the bud in the ashtray in order to dive into the logs before his next meeting, you're just getting out of your staff training a while later. Starved, you and Ellis heat up your lunches and sit in your office.

"So…I officially have a drawer and closet space at his place," you volunteer aloofly as you eat your stir-fry, smiling when Ellis whistles. "We'll probably alternate between both our apartments, though. But I have to admit, the 10-minute commute was fantastic."

"He'd mostly spend time at your pad, then?" Ellis asks before taking a bite of his sandwich. When you nod, he follows up with, "You know that's pretty legendary, right?"

"What is?" you chortle before sipping from your can of soda.

Leaning in conspiratorially, Ellis whispers, "You, domesticating the infamous Javier Peña – notorious ladies' man and reckless action hero—"

"You could've just said heroic, brooding man-slut," you jibe, earning a choked grunt of amusement from Ellis. "It's not like we're getting a place together. Just finally spending the night at his place for a few nights out of the week. Seeing how long it'll take until he gets sick of it," you joke, tone light and musing as you idly rub at your sore lower back, hiding your discomfort from your menstrual cramps easily.

Ellis squints at you. "Kid, c'mon. You don't honestly think he's liable to be a dick like that, right?" he inquires, tone becoming serious when you just blink bemusedly at him. "Seriously. If he ever makes you feel bad like that—"

"It's not like that, I promise," you chuckle meekly. "He's been nothing but amazing about it. Honestly…it kind of took me off guard," you confide, and whisper, "I'm just afraid of falling back into old habits."

Your friend and deputy frowns, setting his lunch aside to pull the chair closer to where you're perched daintily on the couch. "Does he know? About what happened with that gutless sonuvabitch?" he mutters, and when you nod and shy your gaze away, he reaches over to platonically squeeze your forearm. "Good, so he'll know just as well as you, that the past doesn't predicate your future. That was a bad situation that doesn't define you. Just like you're not letting his bad rep discourage your feelings for him, or wanting to be with him," Ellis assures, being the voice of reason you desperately needed.

"Thanks, Rose," you fondly muse and grin when he hums pleasantly. "By the way? He made me this last night," you chirp and hold up the container with the stir-fry.

"See? He's fucking smitten, girlie. Got him wrapped around your little finger," he chuckles good-naturedly and bounces his brows at you.

While you continue to banter light-heartedly in your office, Javier is exiting his latest meeting and dying to get through the rest of the logs so he can skip out early enough to beat you home so he can surprise you with dinner. Unfortunately, different commitments force him to end up having to spend the rest of his afternoon at his desk, poring over statements and logs, signing off on requisition forms – all the things he loathes about his job.

Once finished with all that, he deposits the signed stack of logs onto Stoddard's desk and inquires about the big meeting tomorrow. The younger man flicks his gaze towards Javier's office, indicating it'd be best to discuss the details in there, so they both go in and hash out what his deputy has gathered on the tenor of the meeting.

Still, Javi can hardly care. The damage was done, and he wasn't going to take it back or apologize for going after Cali, so he changed subjects to the session Stoddard was supposed to have with Ellis.

"Ah – yes. Deputy Rose confirmed the resources in question have fallen into line with the training. Everything should be copacetic for the status report with the director next week."

"Excellent. Let me know if anything else crops up with that," Javier responds and nods when Stoddard gestures he's going to hop to it with the logs on his desk.

When his end of day conference call goes later than he'd hoped, Javi spends most of the meeting thinking about you. It's unavoidable, after all. Especially when you'd told him some of the most consequential, poignant things. He replays your radiant expression as you'd declared how he was the love of your life and the best man you'd ever been with. The tender feeling his reminiscing stokes in his chest is so potent that he almost misses addressing the others on the call when it comes around to him.

While Javier is dying to wrap up the call, you're triumphant as you park in the garage and see you're the first to arrive, so you hustle up to the apartment and let yourself in with your key. It's still fairly early for the end of the day, so you decide to get out of your work clothes and put on the casual mauve t-shirt dress from the dresser drawer before going in search for a hamper to put your work outfit in. Said search becomes a scavenger hunt in the chilly air-conditioned abode, and after a few minutes of opening closets, cabinets, and looking in nooks, you balk at Javier having no freaking hamper. Befuddled, you wander out of the bedroom and spot the louvered doors adjacent to the kitchen.

Opening them, you are pleasantly surprised by the stackable washer-dryer unit, and finally find the hamper shoved into the corner next to folded up ironing board leaning against the machine. Grunting, you pull it out and end up noticing Javi stuffed laundry into the washer. Shaking your head sardonically, you go back to the bedroom, dump your clothes into the hamper you place in the corner by the closet doors, and go to the pile of laundry he shoved hastily in the corner, tucked out of sight by the dresser.

"Oh my god, this man," you snicker to yourself as you dig through the piles and separate items that can be washed from garments that require dry cleaning. Then, you make sure to check the bathroom and the bedroom closet for any possible laundry stragglers. "Huh, wonder if he has dirty clothes in you," sardonically, you absently muse out loud, as you take the duffle bag from the closet and go to empty its contents out on the bed. Sorting the items into your separated piles, you're humming to yourself as you rifle through the pockets. When you slip your hand into a hidden pouch in the interior of the bag and fish out your used pair of panties – the ones he'd pilfered from your apartment after your first night together, you balk in horror. "Eww!"

Tossing the offending undies into the hamper, you remember that Javier had another pair you'd given him in Medellín. Casting a glare around the room, you decide you must find them and wash them, regardless of how sulky he'll get. You look in every drawer, in the nightstands – even under the bed, and have no luck, so you sit on the soft surface and huff.

"If I was a filthy, naughty beyako, where would I hide my skanky jerkoff panties…" you mutter to yourself, pondering while grumpily stretching out on his side of the bed. Then, as you're lying on your back and staring up at the ceiling, you instinctively skim your hand down the edge and wedge your hand under the mattress. "Oh for the love of god," you cackle as you pull out the sought-after panties. "I can't fucking believe it," you impishly chuckle, sneering as you stand and deposit them into the hamper. "Blegh," is your acerbic grimace as you dust your hands off before moving on back to the original task at hand.

By the time you have the second load of laundry in the wash and the first in the dryer, you're in the kitchen, seasoning the chicken you plan to fry up for dinner. It's still early, almost an hour before the time Javi had said he'd be home by, so you'd started the rice and beans and now leave the seasoned chicken to marinate. You then busy yourself with padding around barefoot as you peruse his apartment.

You get to catalogue all the things you haven't noticed the few times you'd been over before. His walls are bare, and there aren't any tchotchkes – no family photos, or really anything that spoke of his life in any way. But then you spot a few books aligned on the bottom shelf of the entertainment system, so you go over and pluck a thick textbook out and fan through it. The criminology book is worn, and there are several folded pages and highlighted sections throughout it. Intrigued, you look at the other books in his collection.

There's a just as well read History of Colombia, a paperback of Cien Años de Soledad, and a copy of Open Veins of Latin America. Impressed, you return everything in it's previous alignment on the shelf before going to check on the stove. Glancing over at the credenza, you smile at the vase of now-wilted roses, and go over to tidy up – sweeping the spent rose petals that had fallen onto the top in one hand while you hum at the lack of any other plants in his abode. You're idly trying to remember if he had any potted plants at his old apartment while you're disposing of the flowers and washing out the vase. You leave the spherical vase to dry on the dishcloth while humming a jaunty tune as you decide to make yourself a drink.

Once the dryer dings, you take the piping clothes out and set up the ironing board to tend to items that require pressing. In not much time, you have all of Javier's dress shirts ironed and hung up in the closet while you steam the wrinkles out of his ties. You're ridiculously content as you busy yourself with the domestic tasks your boyfriend clearly hates doing for himself, and in no time, you're sorting the remaining load out of the dryer. Your now-salvaged undies are folded and neatly stored in the top drawer of the dresser while you iron, roll and fold the other garments to be stored in their proper place.

Stowing the iron and board away, you start organizing some of the sheets of paper strewn on the counter as you sip your drink. One of them lists the instructions from the in-building dry cleaning service downstairs. Humming, you see they're open for ten more minutes, so you hurry over to grab Javi's suits.

Sitting on the bed while you quickly check all the pockets of each blazer and pant, you fish out some receipts, a few coins, spent gum packets, and the occasional cigarette cellophane wrapper. You're digging into the left pocket of a muted-brown blazer when you pluck out a slightly crumpled note. Furrowing your brow, you notice the dark, bold penmanship and unfurl the paper.

A cold chill runs down your spine, breath stuttering while you stare at the note, rereading it over and over in a vacant attempt to try and make sense of it.

When Javier comes through the door a while later, he can't help call out in a cheesy croon, "Honey, I'm home," with a bright smile on his handsome features, demeanor carefree – until he sees you sitting on the couch.

The apartment is dimly lit. The kitchen light is on, but you've only switched on a lamp in the living room, seeming to favor sitting in the din with what looks to be a stiff drink resting on the coffee table. Tossing his keys onto the credenza and shirking the empty lunch container to the counter, Javi strides over to you. "Querida, what's wrong?" he asks as he nears, pausing when you hesitate and fiddle with something in your hands. He can smell the aroma of your delicious rice and beans, and he hears the air conditioning kick on, but everything seems odd when juxtaposed with your uneasy glance – with how you curl into the sofa cushions worriedly.

Taking a fortifying breath, you pat the empty spot next to you, beckoning him to sit. Once Javi plunks down and his stare only intensifies, you sigh and show him the paper in your hands. "I was sorting through the laundry to take down to the dry cleaners, when I found this," you say, watching intently for his reaction.

YOU BROKE IT, YOU BOUGHT IT. ASSHOLE!

His jaw sets, clenching tightly. "This? It's nothing," he tries to dismiss, tossing it down onto the coffee table as he pivots to nuzzle you and flippantly drawl, "That's what's got you all tense? You should see some of the memos I get—"

Shying away, you stand and pad barefoot across the apartment to grab your purse from the counter, digging through it judiciously before producing something and walking back to him. Holding his confused gaze with your dubious stare, you hand him the folded piece of paper. "This was left on my desk earlier in the week," you tell him evenly as he takes it and opens it.

CONGRATULATIONS ON THE FUNDING. LOOKING FORWARD TO WORKING TOGETHER SOON.

Javier sees red. You watch on, disarmed, as his hands curl into fists while his shoulders broaden and square up. He bows his head, tucking his chin down to hide the furious expression contorting his features as he grapples with his blinding rage.

"That pinche cabrón," Javi growls in a gravelly pitch, blood pressure shooting up and anger welling in his chest. "That bastard—" he snarls – warring with the dizzying wave of impotent anger zinging in his veins when he finally looks up at you and sees the bewildered trepidation in your face. He reins himself in and pulls you over to sit next to him. "Fuck, I'm sorry—"

"Stechner wrote that to you."

Javi tenses, and when you just insistently stare at him, he gruffly confirms, "Yes. He slipped it in my folder during the meeting with the Colombian officials at the National Palace, after we captured Gilberto Rodríguez…"

Absorbing that, your brows knit together in brooding thought. This was clearly an attempt by the CIA station chief to size you up in some way, and the fact he left that note after Javier had thwarted his plans could not be downplayed.

"I should've known," you muse out loud, adding thoughtfully, "I didn't think of him until I saw this note. But I should've suspected him sooner."

Javier's expression shutters in at how calm and clinical you're being about this. "That motherfucker has no cause to be hassling you, and I'm going to tell him so tomorrow—"

"You will do no such thing, Javier," you suddenly snap and glare seriously at him. "That's exactly what he wants you to do. Don't play into that prick's hands, please," is your resolute sneer, grabbing both notes and folding them together before marching to the counter and storing them in your purse.

That riles Javi, so he stands and emphatically rails, "I don't give a fuck! He can try pissing on my plans all he wants, but he's not going to retaliate against me by harassing you."

"He's not harassing me," you dismiss curtly and turn to stare impatiently at him. "This is his attempt at rattling my cage and seeing if I'll take the bait. I will not, so I expect you not to go más macho and confront him, which will only prove he can get to you by bugging me," is your sharp assessment as you stride back to him when you see him only wind up with frustrated anger. Caressing your hands up his chest to slip them under his blazer so you can knead his shoulders and intensely stare up into his smoldering glare, you murmur gently, "He's a supercilious, self-important, limp dildo, Javi."

That is such a ridiculous description of the smarmy bastard Bill Stechner that Javier scoffs cynically and snorts when you playfully grunt and shake him by the shoulders. "Yeah, well, I don't want that fucker bothering you," he grumbles gruffly and pulls you against him, nuzzling a kiss to your hairline.

You want to assure him that no such thing will occur without ending in a very well planned outcome that will backfire on the facetious man, but decide to muse light-heartedly instead, "He won't, mi amor. Let's forget about him so he doesn't spoil any more of our night, ok?"

Surly, he grunts, so you huff and start kissing him relentlessly until his scowl dissolves and that irreverent smirk quirks his pillowy lips. "I won't argue with that," he chuckles and squeezes your ass cheekily before stealing a flirty kiss from your lips.

Smiling, you backpedal impishly away towards the kitchen as you chime, "Good! Now go get comfy while I fry up the pollo."

He's about to snicker when he notices you've tidied up the counter and the louvered doors are open. Shit, did she…?

Loping into the bedroom while he shrugs his blazer off, Javi sees the hamper tucked by the closet and his empty duffle on the bed. The piles of clothes in the corner are gone. Then, it dawns on him, and he rushes to the duffle and digs into the hidden pocket.

You're merrily smirking to yourself as you tend to the chicken when you hear Javi complain gruffly, "Oh c'mon!" from the bedroom, hearing him fling the duffle to the floor before the protesting of the mattress as he lifts it to find the other hidden pair of panties gone. "Really?!" his exclaimed scoff has you giggling as you fry the drumsticks.

Javier's footfalls amble in from the bedroom a few minutes later. "Just got two more minutes of frying and then we can eat, babe," you innocently lilt as you keep your gloating features hidden.

"Who told you to clean, by the way?" he crisply grumbles, but you can hear the amusement in his baritone, poorly hidden away as he mutters, "You would have a fit if I went through your stuff—"

"Oh my god, you did though," you exclaim irreverently and whirl on him, quirking a derisive eyebrow at him while he rolls his eyes and his shirtsleeves up to his elbows. He's shoeless and tieless, shirt collar unbuttoned and belt removed from his slacks. "Remember?! You went snooping in my nightstand like, the next morning after our first time, malcriado. You're just mad I washed those disgustingly skanky panties—"

"They were not disgusting," he lamely counters and actually gives you a pouty glare as he puts his hands on his hips.

You wrinkle your nose derisively and drawl, "You know they were, so stop being a silly beyako and go set the table for me, please?"

The corner of his mouth twitches in a lewd smirk before he husks, "I'll just steal a pair when you're not looking," before loping into the kitchen to retrieve the napkins and cutlery. You turn back to the stove to hide your amused reaction, which gives Javier the opportunity to teasingly brush up against you, and add raunchily, "Maybe the ones you're wearing right now, even."

It's incomprehensible how wet he gets you just from telling you something so shameless. The ache in your lower back is replaced by the pulse of arousal that thrums between your thighs now, leaving you ridiculously turned on as you take the last pieces out of the frying pan and shut the stove off. He sees the apples of your cheeks flush, and he knows it isn't from the heat in the kitchen, so he smugly sets the table and smiles when you fan yourself and go to get a hair tie so you can fasten your locks up in a messy bun.

Dinner is wonderful – spent merrily eating and catching up about the day. When you notice the bruise on his finger, you tut and take his hand so you can affectionately kiss it. "Who'd you piss off to slam a drawer shut on your poor finger?" you lament, smiling when he scoffs and caresses your cheek.

"Just myself, with that goddamn filing cabinet drawer. Wasn't paying attention," Javi huffs dryly. He wants to add that it was partially your fault by distracting his thoughts – that he spent every spare moment replaying what you'd told him that morning. Instead, he steals a kiss from your lips as he gets up from the table and collects your dish, and true to his promise, when he finishes clearing the table and washes the dishes, he smugly declares, "We're having dessert in the bedroom, querida."

Snickering, you finish your drink and lean over the counter separating you from him to contrarily muse, "It'll have to be a one-sided dessert tonight, stud."

He shakes his head charismatically. "Nonsense," Javier croons and turns to face you while he dries his hands. "Not after I've been thinking about you all damn day – going without you and coffee—"

"You are such a dork," you giggle and toss your napkin at him, which he catches and deposits in the trash before sighing noisily and pursing his lips at you.

Javi starts unbuttoning his shirt open as he walks around the counter to get to you. "I've been called many things, but dork is a new one," he jokes as he tugs his shirt loose from his slacks and finishes unbuttoning it. Your coy smile becomes an alluring smirk when you grab both ends of his open dress shirt and guide him close.

His scent is even better now that your senses are heightened by your hormones – warm spice of his skin making your blood vessels expand in tantalized attraction, seeking out more. So, you press your nose to his chest and get lost in his musky, spiced and salty smell, on delay when his hands yank you up against him by the backs of your thighs so he can effortlessly carry you into the bedroom. You hum contentedly as you nuzzle his neck and kiss his pulse. Javier lays you on the bed and climbs over you, intending to stay on his propped hands and knees when you protest and pull him down on top of you to meet your hungry kiss.

You both languidly make out and enjoy the feel of each other – how warm his chest and back are when you wrap your arms around him and trail your touch under the shirt. Javier caresses a hand up the contour of your side to hike your soft dress up, but you thwart its assent and mewl into his mouth. "I can't tonight," you whisper against his lips when he sits up enough to stare intently with lusted eyes at you. "Let me just take care of you," is your breathy murmur as you slip your hand down his body to reach for his fly.

He gently redirects your hand up and kisses the inside of your wrist. "Don't be silly. I told you, it's nothing to be skittish about—"

"Pfft, I can't really stay in the mood if I'm bleeding all over the bed, Javier," you counter grumpily, plush lips pouting when he sits up and arches a sardonic brow at you. "It's not sexy, and daresay, it's actually really embarrassing—"

"But it's normal and nothing to be embarrassed about?" he contradicts and affectionately traces your jawline with his fingertips. "If you want to…we can. Don't go without because you think it'd bother me, is all I mean."

Sighing bashfully, you chew on the inside of your cheek. After all, this was a first for you both. Peculiarly enough, your relationship had been so on-and-off that you'd rarely had your time of the month while Javier was around. He'd either be coming back from Medellín right after your period or you'd spend a solid week together right before it. Stars aligning and full moons cresting in your favor, you suppose.

Now though, as you try avoiding being flustered, you stretch out under him before mustering the gumption to query, "You wouldn't be grossed out? For real?"

He reassuringly chuckles, "Christ, of course not, cariño. It's just sex, well, with maybe a towel over the bed, but really, it's no different than dealing with cum, if you think about it," Javier muses wryly, but when he sees you look a bit dubious, he sobers and assures, "But if it bothers you that much—"

"Once, when I was at a house party, I went up to a bedroom with a really cute guy my age, and in the middle of sex, I got my period," is your interjection, confiding in a self-deprecating stream of consciousness, "He saw the blood and freaked. I was so embarrassed. I wasn't supposed to get it for a few more days, and then there I was, bleeding over some Upper East Siders' expensive Egyptian cotton sheets with this jock acting like the elevator from The Shining opened up between my legs," you explain and cover your face self-consciously. "It was so mortifying!"

Rolling onto his back and tugging you along with him, Javier groans while consolingly pulling you into his arms to tut, "What a fucking idiot."

You laugh and shake your head. "That was the last time I hooked up with anyone I went to school with. Didn't save me from all the gossip and taunts, though," you sigh flatly and huff at yourself as you bury your face into his chest.

He's angry at hearing that, wishing he could retroactively take that pain from you and exact it on someone more deserving.

"So?! How are you so cool with the prospect of period sex, then?" you suddenly ask and sit up to squint adorably down at him when you think you're looking judiciously bossy.

He snorts and stretches out under you so he can fold his hands behind his head. "I grew up with lots of girl cousins. A few were older than me, and at family gatherings, I would hear some crazy girl shit," he tells you earnestly, and you crack an endeared smile. "My cousin Lucía once told the other girls that the best way to get rid of period cramps was to ride a guy and get fucked side saddle," Javier remarks without an ounce of shame while you dissolve into startled giggles.

"They'd talk about that around you?!" you ask, still laughing in shock as you absently tuck the rogue strands of hair that have escaped your bun behind your ears.

"I mean, I might've been eavesdropping around the corner of the barn, but yeah," he remarks aloofly and shrugs a shoulder.

"How old were you?!" you chortle, smile silly and intrigued.

"I don't know, maybe 11 or 12? I was the only boy for a while until my cousin Danny was born," Javier remarks warmly while you start giggling at the mental image of a little Javi hearing girl talk and gaping in round-eyed horror. "So? Let's shower, and if you're in the mood…" he suggests in a tentative, no-pressure drawl before cupping the small of your back and rubbing his fingers soothingly in massaging circles there.

Nodding, you acquiesce. Once you've taken your earrings off and shed your dress, you go to the bathroom while he strips out of his suit, and after you've removed your tampon and used the facilities, you hop in the shower and get joined by Javi a few minutes later. He's ridiculously tender and sweet with you – rubbing his hands down your body and kneading his thumbs gently into your achy lower back, kissing the shell of your ear while you rinse the soap off your skin. He's even behaving while you affectionately lather his chest up and wash him sensually. And the kisses he steals from your lips are soft, albeit tender with desire.

Once dry and back in the bedroom, you can't deny how enticed and worked up you are, cunt yearning to be split open on his thick cock, regardless of your previous insecurity. So, you lay the dark towel down on the bed and stretch out over it, completely nude and feeling tingly for him. Javier takes the unspoken assent and sheds his towel to admire you from the front of the bed. You're tempted to suggest he use a condom, but you don't have a chance when he ruggedly pulls you to the foot of the bed by the backs of your knees, and pushes them gently up and apart.

You inhale a charged breath and blush, keeping your hands down on the bed and staring demurely up at Javi. His hands glide down to caress your inner thighs, and you get lost in the tickling tingle his touch ripples through you while you gaze up at his golden skin and start to really yearn for him to be inside you. Javi's brown eyes capture your sultry gaze as he trails his touch through the soft curls of your mound before brushing his thumb over the hood of your clit while his other hand keeps one of your thighs butterflied open from you arching and mewling.

"If at any point you want me to stop, tell me," he murmurs to you and keeps his dark coffee gaze on yours.

You nod and bite your bottom lip, anticipating his hands to nudge your legs completely open so he can nestle between them and press into the cradle of your pelvis to rut his thick, engorged cock you're now staring at into you. Instead, Javi surprises you by bowing over your torso to kiss and suckle an incandescent path from your sensitive nipples – both of which he purses his mouth over to lave and tease the pebbled morsels – to the crest of your sex before his hands push your hips up so he could angle your pelvis up to his greedy worship.

The gasp you let out when he licks the seam of your pussy before suckling over the hood of your clit sounds pitchy and floored to your own ears, but you instinctively arch back and rock your hips up higher to him, seeking more. Your face burns with anxiety, but it's becoming muddled under your mounting arousal as Javi hums in desire at your reaction and sweeps his tongue through your folds.

"Ah, Ja-Javi," you mewl and start to tremble in anticipation of the worst. That he'll recoil from your ripened womanhood, or you'll gush into his mouth, but just as you start to get taut from the fretting, Javi groans and buries his tongue into you.

The feral delight that dings in Javier at the heady-yet-tender feel of your pussy engulfing his tongue makes him wild and eager for more, so he swipes the talented appendage around your fluttering slit and glances up at you to make sure he's not misreading your cues. You're quivering now, eyes glossed over with awed lust as you pant and gasp in nervous excitement. Smirking up at you, Javier uses the flat of his tongue to lave a long lick up your pussy before flicking it over your clit. You let out a startled moan and writhe, cheeks burning with your blush.

"Jesus, you taste so fucking good," he growls and plants a sloppy kiss to the inseam of your thigh. "Just wanna bury my face in your pussy, baby—"

"Ja-Javi, you can't," you giggle and press the back of your hand over your eyes, overwhelmed and bashful about it. He rumbles in protest, so you huff a flustered sound before looking at him and seeing he's genuinely into eating you out and savoring your heightened warmth, scent and taste. It makes your core melt down into cloying desire, enraptured by the hunger you see in his eyes as he toys his lips along your cunt. With a breathy sound, you beg, "Please, n-need you inside me."

Javier needs no other prompt. Effortlessly, he shifts you up further on the bed so he can plant his knees on the soft surface – strategically keeping you both placed over the towel you laid out – and hitches up between your thighs before skimming his throbbing, thick erection over your mound. The weight of his length against you has you groaning lustfully – the anticipation of having it buried inside your heated and syrupy sheath has your pussy weeping with excitement. He's trying to keep control of his own desire and not miss any sign of your unease or discomfort, so he gives you an intent and appraising once over while his hands soothingly rub the tops of your thighs.

He takes you in. Flushed cheeks, plush-panting lips, blown out pupils staring gorgeously up at him. Your skin is several degrees warmer than usual, running hot and feeling sinuous. Your usually taut tummy is supple and soft, and he finds himself skimming his fingertips over your womb, admiring how smooth and warm you are there as you wistfully relax and sigh. Javier thinks how beautiful you'd look with a round little belly and it takes his mind a second to register that and snap him back. Fuck me, where did that come from?!

You let out a soft giggle when his touch starts to tickle, so he leans down and plants a kiss on your sternum, between your breasts, before he purrs, "Mi hermosura, tan tierna y calientita."

The delight he sees crest your alluring eyes settles a warm ache in his chest. "Deja de tentarme, amado," you breathily whine and reach for his hand so you can trail his fingertips along your mouth before suckling the pad of his index and middle fingers. You watch his gaze get heavy with want, so you murmur, "Give it to me, Javi…please. I want it."

He groans and caresses your jawline as he guides his cock to part your folds and press into you. His thrust breaches you and feels amazing, punching pleasure so swiftly into your pussy that it blows apart the menstrual cramping and aches in your lower back. For Javi, it feels like your tight pussy is molten – clutching him lushly and rippling like velvet, wet heat around his cock. Planting his hands on either side of you, Javi snaps his hips into you and groans a husky sound as you grab his triceps and hike your pelvis up to encourage him to thrust deeper. So, with a feral growl and possessive nuzzle, Javi slams home and hits that devastating point inside you before he sets a toe-curling pace in his piston-like strokes into your melted silken vise.

You'd be utterly mortified by the messy and obscene sounds coming from him pumping his ramrod cock through your squelching pussy if him fucking you like this didn't feel so insanely good. The boisterous pleasure that sears up your body to fizzle delirious rapture into your throat has you dizzy, escaping you as a delectable moan Javi's never heard you make before, so he suckles a hungry kiss into your neck as he shoves his hand under you to tilt your lower back up on his next pounding series of thrusts.

Gasping incandescently and clinging to Javier now, you moan, "Oh fuck-oh my fucking god!" He can feel your cunt flood over and wring around his pulsing cock just as you toss your head back and sob, "Javi!" when you climax hard, so wrecked and overcome by the ecstasy of sensation in this fertile state your body is in that you hike your knees instinctively up to grapple with his sides and bury your face in his shoulder. Your fingers are clutching at his back as he groans and prolongs your bliss – slamming his cock over and over into you while ravished mewls fall from your gasping lips.

He keeps rocking into your luscious cunt as you tremble from the waves of pleasure crashing through your insides, so when you whimper overwhelmed little sounds, Javier soothes you with, "I got you, querida. Not going anywhere. J-Just let go and don't worry, mi tiernita. K-Keep you safe."

Your eyes well with tears and you surrender to the soul-shattering feeling of trusting someone so utterly and fiercely. He feels you relax, hears your satiated little sighs as he tries to regain his own breath from the staccato, shallow panting it's become. His cock is throbbing, but he's concentrating on you, making sure you're not anything but satisfied as he nuzzles your temple and caresses his hand along your side.

"Javi?" Your voice sounds soft and breathy, so he sits up on his propped hands on either side of you again to gaze down at you. He sees how smoldering your expression is, flushed and sultry with the promise of sinfulness. "Please, mi amor, fuck me again," is your smoky petition, hungry and shameless as you bat your lashes and caress an open-mouth kiss over his forearm.

Javi's cock throbs in response inside you, enthralled features becoming lustful as he smirks and nods. "As you wish, guapita," he grouses and leans down to kiss you.

The feeling of being railed by Javier is just short of heaven for you right now, any previous unease or embarrassment discarded for the exhilarating and heightened pleasure you're in. He flipped you from your back onto your knees before he speared back into your molten cunt from behind, hands on the small of your back and pressing you to bow into the bed to just let him dominate you like this. For his part, Javier is loving how wired and raw you are in your pleasure, savoring the luscious clutch of your pussy swallowing his cock greedily while you moan and give yourself over to him.

The sight of you coming and writhing under him with your ass up against him has his cock straining and swelling with an impending release, but it's your reaching a hand blindly behind yourself to grip his wrist while begging, "Fucking fill me with your cum, Javi, please, please please!" that sends him over the scintillating edge of a ferocious orgasm.

He shouts out and barrels mindlessly into your molten cunt over and over until his climax surges in thick bursts to saturate your already melted insides with his spend. Shivering, his thrusts stutter in rhythm as he groans charged, hoarse sounds of completion before he clumsily folds over you and gasps into the nape of your neck.

You're drunkenly smiling into the bed, elated and the most fulfilled you've ever felt in your life. You can feel the debauched mess seeping out of you, but you can't muster the shame or concern, so you lie under Javi until he comes to his senses and regains his awareness.

"Shit, baby, you ok?" he mumbles and shifts to roll you both onto your sides, staying nestled inside you and pressed up against you while he encircles your body and spoons you.

"Mmm…" you respond sensually and pull your knees up closer to your chest so you can feel like a curled up sated thing, warm and coiled against him. "I've never felt better," you sigh contentedly and interlace your fingers with the hand he has resting over your womb.

Javi grunts proudly and nuzzles you in the spot beneath your ear. "Want me to pull out?" is his mellow chuckle, and you shake your head, making a little sound to protest the suggestion. "Mmph, you're so warm. Feel so good," he mumbles on a wistful exhale and kisses the side of your neck.

Your mind is recovering from a flashflood of lust that numbed all your shame and inhibitions, and now that the flood has ebbed and left you dazed in its wake, you can't muster any fretting thoughts. Instead, some primal little spark in you hazes at the vacant musing that Javi could've easily gotten you pregnant after something that heady and primordial – pill or no pill. And the anxiety the thought coaxes free from the lust-logged recesses of your mind shakes you loose. However, the thought of such a happening doesn't well cold terror in you like it did the last time, but it gives you pause.

Squeezing his hand, you whisper, "I'm kind of scared to look."

He snorts and kisses the sloping juncture of your shoulder before he eases out of you and shifts. The aftermath of your lovemaking is a crimson-tinged mess that's pooling on the dark towel, but definitely nothing to make him reconsider having sex while you're on your period. Really, he looks forward to doing it again,since it feels that good for the both of you. Agilely, Javi gets off the bed and cleans off before tending to you and helping you wriggle up off the sullied towel. A quick shower later, and you both get ready for bed.

He can't hide the adoring smile quirking his lips while he watches you tug your stretched out tour shirt-turned-pajama nightgown down over your cotton-panty-clad derrière before you shake out your hair from the messy bun and finger comb it. Glancing over and catching his flirty glance, you playfully leer at him while he charmingly climbs in his nude glory under the covers and pats your side of the bed. Slinking onto the bed, you kiss his cheek and smile when he pulls the bedding back for you to slip under with him before he shuts the lamp on the nightstand off.

Once under the covers in the dark, you cuddle into his side and murmur, "You're the best cramp reliever of my life."

Javier laughs heartily at that before wrapping his arm around you and rumbling, "We gotta try that side saddle business next time."

Now your turn to chuckle, you kiss his cheek and settle comfortably against him. "Maybe tomorrow?" you suggest as you teasingly brush your fingertips from his forehead down the etched bridge of his nose before thrumming them playfully over his mustachioed lips.

He kisses your impish digits before drawling, "Fuck yeah, I need something good to look forward to."

You sober at that. Caressing his cheek, you let your eyes adjust to the penumbra of the room so you can trail your touch up to his forehead, where you brush his rogue wisps of hair back. "That meeting?" you ask gently.

He sighs. "I know it's not going to go well. Vargas is on the surrender, keep things status quo, side of the argument. I fucked all that up for him and the rest of the Cali cronies," Javier grumbles dryly. "I've never been good at dealing with the political sleight of hand shit."

Absorbing that as you continue to caress your touch along his handsome countenance, you inquire, "And Crosby isn't on your side?"

Javier huffs flippantly. "His concern is about destabilizing relations with the Colombian government. He's given me shit, but has backed me up in front of officials, when it's come to a head," he remarks and idly caresses his hand along the length of your side. "I can't help suspect he's just shepherding shit along and doesn't care for actually taking down the cartel," is his sulky musing. He's dying for a cigarette, but with you nestled against him? The last thing he wants to do is get up to smoke right now.

"Well…maybe that's the case," you retort thoughtfully and feel Javi grunt in displeasure. "Crosby is one of the most pragmatic people I've ever met. There are other agencies in the building other than DEA," you can't help razz, and when he turns his head to glower at you? Your eyes twinkle as you give him a lopsided smile. "I'm serious. Not all of them have the same goals. Most of the time, agencies have competing interests. His job is to make sure none of that jeopardizes the standing of the U.S. here, on top of not pissing off the locals," is your judicious remark before you kiss his cheek and jibe, "If you're thinking the only goal is pursuing something for the greater good, you're gonna ruffle a lot of feathers."

He grunts at that, unable to take umbrage. It's insightful and objective – which is what he desperately lacks in his current circumstance.

Sitting up to kiss his forehead, you drawl, "Go have your cigarette."

Javi scoffs and fists his fingers through his hair. "How the hell did you know?"

"I know you, chulito," you giggle and playfully flick your thumb over his nipple, laughing when he inhales a sharp sound and taps your ass in retaliation. "Plus, your fingers start to fidget when you're craving a smoke," is your sardonic lilt.

He sits up in bed and pouts, shaking his right hand out and huffing sarcastically. "You should've gone into law enforcement with how good you are at spotting tells," he quips in a purring bass. "I already know you're a crack shot—"

You snicker and adjust to affectionately lean into him. "Ah-hah, keep it up, burlón. If you and I were partners on the job, I'd show you up," is your sassy retort, to which he makes an, 'Oh yeah?' drawn out grunt, so you nudge him bossily out of bed. "You know I would. Murphy would have nothing on me, and bonus: I'd take you home after work and handcuff you to the bed," you brazenly chime and goose him.

The yelp Javier gasps out has you grinning. "Tan atrevida," he growls derisively and moseys over to the dresser to get a pair of pajama pants to put on. "…I might take you up on that," he drawls as he pulls the bottoms on and shoots you a saucy wink before loping out of the room, quickly returning with the pack and lighter. "Come to think of it, I wouldn't mind putting you in the cuffs instead," Javi quips as he pulls the curtain back from the windows so he can open the center pane before lighting up a cigarette and exhaling the smoke away into the night air.

Propping the pillows up behind yourself so you can lounge more comfortably and shoot him a playful look, you deadpan, "I'm sure."

Chuckling, he takes a long pull from the cigarette before exhaling. "Maybe this weekend?" he queries and bounces his brows at you.

You giggle and shake your head amusedly as you grab the ashtray from the nightstand and hold it out to him so he can flick the ash into it. He takes it from you and does so as you remark aloofly, "Only plans I have are to make that lasagna for Ellis. Perhaps I can pencil you in for some kinky fun at some point."

He hums intriguingly at that as he stubs his cigarette out and shuts the window. "How magnanimous of you," he remarks goadingly as he pulls the curtain back into place. "Shit, I still have to find something to wear to that fancy art thing Monday night," Javi blurts as he places the ashtray back on the nightstand and saunters to the bathroom to brush his teeth. "Unless you wanna sort through my closet and judge more of my clothes," is his cheeky callout to you before you hear water start to run from the faucet.

Amused, you take the chance to lotion up your elbows and knees while you hear him gargling. "You know what? I think I'll do that tomorrow. Sort through all your clothes and organize them by 'cute and can stay' to 'horrible and must burn' categories," you're remarking glibly loud enough for him to hear. His haughty scoff echoes down to you just as he dries his face before shutting the bathroom light. "Worst case scenario will be taking you to a tailor to get your measurements so I can get you a nice outfit—"

Javier dismissively huffs at that as he saunters back into the room and tosses himself down on the bed to frown in faux-outrage at you. "I know how to dress. I'm quite a snappy dresser, if I do say so myself," he grumbles ruggedly and playfully tugs you close by your hip. "Shit, I know for a fact you like how I dress—"

"I do, but everyone could use a bit of sprucing up," you tease and kiss the corner of his mouth when he twists his lips in a pouty grimace. "But button-up shirts and 'fuck me' jeans aren't appropriate for every outing—"

" 'Fuck me' jeans?!" he balks and stares comically at you. "Is that what you call 'em?"

"Oh my fucking god, Javi. Your jeans contour to you like they were sewn on! They barely leave anything to the imagination, so is it any wonder I'd call 'em your 'fuck me' jeans?" you cackle irreverently and squeal peels of laughter when he starts relentlessly tickling and kissing you.

"But you like them, right?" he growls while you giggle and squirm against him.

"I love them, Javi, now quit it – quit it!" you exclaim in between peels of laughter, so Javi loops his arms around you and hoists you to lie on top of him after he flings himself backwards into the pillows. Mirthful, you giggle, "You don't have to worry about me chucking any of 'em away, let's just put it that way."

"You better not, traviesa," he grunts bossily and squeezes you affectionately. "Now, quit keeping me up and go to sleep."

You scoff and wriggle to sit up and straddle his lap so you can playfully swat him lightly on his bare chest. "Mira quien habla," is your sassy huff before you daringly tousle his hair and nimbly scamper off of him to slide under the covers.

He chuckles and rolls to tug you against him so he can spoon you and suckle doting kisses into your neck. "Goodnight, bravita."

Turning to brush your lips in a silly peck next to his nose, you chime, "Buenas noches, chavón."

Settling down, you both easily doze off, lulled by well-achieved exhaustion and the tranquil comfort of being together – of feeling completely safe with each other. Any anxious feeling Javier had about his upcoming day had been quelled by you, making sleep come heavy and serene for him. So much so, that when he stirred awake a few minutes before the alarm clock was meant to go off, he was drowsy and lethargic as he rolled over to reach for you.

Finding your side of the bed empty, Javi dully wondered if he'd dreamed you, before his brain kicked on completely and he sat up in bed. Grunting, he scrubbed his hands over his face and let his senses sharpen. He finally picked up on the sound of shuffling around out in the main room, so with a labored grumble and stretch of his back, he kicked the covers off and got up.

Javier finds you cooking at the stove, wearing your fluffy cream robe and matching slippers, with your hair up in a bun as you intently tend to the sausage links you have in the pan before shuffling back to the bowl you're using to crack some eggs into and whisking them briskly, then seasoning them with salt and pepper. The domestic sight has that funny feeling of warmth wriggling in Javi's breastbone. When you go to turn to retrieve the container of butter from the counter, you freeze and innocently blink at him.

"Ugh, I didn't mean to wake you," is your pouty whisper. "Was gonna surprise you with breakfast in bed."

The beaming love he feels has him tangled up with what to say, so he just stands there and melts with charmed, albeit flustered awe. But then, you smile, endearing and sweet, and before Javier knows it, he has breezed over and wrapped his arms around you to capture your lips in a reverent kiss. You grunt in surprise and then giggle when he presses you up against the edge of the counter, which nudges his morning wood into you.

"Babe!" you chortle and fumble to nudge him back with how possessively affectionate he's being, so you pat his ass and nip impishly at his lower lip to get his attention. He jolts and leans back with those irrepressibly adorable brown puppy dog eyes. "You're gonna make me burn the sausages," you wryly admonish as you herd around him and expertly turn the links to the opposite side.

Before Javi could grumble a response, the alarm clock starts going off in the bedroom, so he begrudgingly goes to shut it off. By the time he comes back, you're already buttering the pan for the scrambled eggs. "You get the munchies when it's your time of the month?" he can't help quip when he hitches up behind you to nuzzle a kiss to the nape of your neck.

"Hah, sometimes, but this is for you, because I know you're going to neglect eating today," you muse sagely as you pour the eggs into the pan before turning your head to plant a kiss on his stubble-covered cheek. "I saw you have some Bustelo in the cupboard. Want me to brew a pot of coffee?" you ask as you fold the eggs before you start to fluff and scramble them.

"I'll take care of that," he retorts and caresses your robe-covered hip before going to do just that. "I never bother with it; brewing coffee here. Got me spoiled with Don Gilberto's stuff now," he warmly muses and glances at you, smirking when you shrug, as if to say, 'Well, naturally!'

Once the food is ready, you plate breakfast and sit at a stool at the counter next to each other to eat. Javi has such a healthy appetite when you cook for him, knowing his bad habit of not taking care of himself in keeping himself fed, which is why you push food on him like this. Watching him scarf breakfast down in a few minutes makes you feel less guilty about being so pushy, though.

Sipping from your mug, you sigh. "This is all right, but I just love how smooth and rich the other coffee is," you remark while he polishes off his plate and chugs down his orange juice. "Think you'll have a break to sneak down for a coffee date today?" is your flirty query as he dabs his mouth with a napkin.

"The meeting is first thing at CNP Headquarters, but I should be back in the office around lunchtime," he retorts smoothly and finishes his coffee before collecting all the dishes and taking them to the sink. "Got a lot of work today?"

"Yeah, just finalizing prep for the system that's coming in next week, and I have a meeting with Crosby later in the day," you remark and stand to cutely shuffle over to shut the sink off so you can bossily tug him to the bedroom. Javi grunts amusedly and follows, letting you shove him to sit on the bed so you can slink onto his lap and encircle your arms around his shoulders. Hugging him tight, you murmur, "You'll let me know how it goes?"

Exhaling, he nods and caresses your back. "I will, querida," he husks near your temple before nuzzling you.

Reluctantly, you both go through the morning chores of getting ready for work together. The quickie in the shower has you both smiling and bantering playfully about the raunchy fun to come over the weekend, which helps keep your collective worries at bay.

Once you're slipping on your chic heels, Javi's all dressed, albeit fiddling with his deep red tie with oblong blue circles outlined in gold dots. Smiling, you waltz over and adjust it for him, fixing the knot and straightening it to fall smoothly over his crisp white dress shirt. While you do so, Javi takes the opportunity to admire your emerald chiffon blouse and tailored pencil skirt with the back split that shows a sliver of your supple thighs when you walk.

Glancing up at him through your long, dark lashes, you smile and purr, "To your liking, mi patrón?"

"Fuck…you can't say sexy shit like that to me when we're about to walk out the door, guapita," he growls and fondles your ass while he dips down to brush an open-mouth kiss along your neck.

You shiver and playfully grip his waistband. "Then quit looking at me all hungrily like that," is your smoky sigh as you cup his cheek and guide him to meet your lips for a chaste, doting kiss.

"Hmph," he grunts dryly and taps your ass before letting you strut over to grab your black blazer and slip it on. "Want to go out for dinner tonight?" Javi asks as he grabs his watch from the dresser and fastens it on.

"Oh, it'll have to be after happy hour," you retort and brush your hair back over your shoulders once you've shrugged the jacket in place comfortably. "It should be done by 7:30pm. Meet here around then and go together?" you suggest as you strut to the main room to grab your purse and tote while Javi follows and pockets his wallet, keys, service weapon, and grabs his obnoxiously large satellite phone.

"Sounds like a plan, preciosa," he drawls in a velvety tone before stealing a kiss from your lips as you both get to the door.

You snicker at the gesture when you both know that if the elevator is empty, you're going to make out all the way down to the garage. After locking up and escorting you to the end of the hall, you end up doing just that – kissing the entire ride down until the doors slide open. You know Javier's trying to prolong leaving, because he walks you to your car and opens the door and leans down to kiss you wistfully. So, you grab the lapel of his suit jacket and hold him from stepping back from the open door.

With a gentle smile, you murmur, "I love you."

Soulful eyes crinkling warmly at the corners, Javi husks, "I love you too," before stealing one last kiss from your lips.

Parting ways, you both drive to the start of your hectic days, hoping for the best.

Of course, things aren't that simple.

Especially not for Javier. The moment he walked into the conference room and saw how jam-packed with people it was, the cold chill of anxiety trickled down his spine. Sitting across from Crosby and seeing the glacial stare fixed stoically on him while the meeting was opened up by some of Vargas' tenientes didn't help his wariness dissipate either. So, when the general at the head of the conference table went in on his supercilious recounting of events up to date, and made it appoint to emphasize the unilateral operation that did not have his blessing, Javier knew he was poised to get a verbal dagger thrown his way.

What Javier did not expect was to get directly called out.

"Well in that case, I will turn things over to the man who's responsible for this situation. Maybe he can walk us through his path to victory. So Agent Peña, what comes next?" When Javier looks over at the man, he gives him a thin smile before adding crisply, "The floor is yours."

He'd be lying if he said stark panic hadn't seized him at being put on the spot in such a flagrant manner. Javier's pulse jumped and anxiety wrung in his chest, so after self-consciously caressing his hand from his cheek to then press over his mouth, he quickly collected his thoughts in order not to end up the piñata of the meeting.

In a smooth musing tone, Javier answered, "I appreciate your candor, general. But I believe that the remaining capos will be liable to make more mistakes without the leadership of Gilberto Rodríguez. Their security apparatus might scale up, but that can't be achieved without bringing attention to their operation, which will no doubt create internal strife where the 'stabilizing influence' of Gilberto Rodríguez wouldn't have allowed for before."

"That is a very optimistic assessment," General Vargas flatly remarks and glances over at Crosby. "It does not take into account the 'volatility' of when that internal strife could spill out externally to the public."

"Our sources have assessed that had begun to happen before the raid, general," Crosby answers neutrally before glancing over at Javier. "The surrender plan was spearheaded by Gilberto, but there was some resistance from the other heads of the cartel."

"That, and now with his capture, will put pressure on them to regroup in a way they've not been willing to do prior, which will give us the advantage in our pursuit of the other capos," Javi remarks and gives Vargas a steely look. "One down, three to go. With your cooperation and the backing of the Minister of Defense, I believe we can successfully capture the others before any fallout can occur from the dismantling of Cali's operations."

Vargas looks annoyed, but gives them both another thin smile as he diplomatically drawls, "I would like to hear more about Minister Botero's thoughts on the matter. Perhaps once you've briefed him on your intentions?"

Goddammit. Javier knows he has to hustle his ass to do just that as soon as possible, for fear Vargas will start tainting things to his superiors who will then take it to Botero.

So, as soon as the meeting concludes, Javier huddles with Crosby in the corner of the hall, just outside the conference room, and tells him he's going straight to Botero's office. "Fine. I'll put in a call and ask that he take a meeting with you," the ambassador grouses as he starts dialing on his secure cell phone. "Just do me a favor and don't piss him off as bad as you did Vargas."

By the time Javi's marching across the sprawling plaza towards the regal building the minister's office resides, he can't help feel his day is about to go to shit, and then Feistl calls him. It's the last thing he needs to hear right now – about how Cali CNP got him and Van Ness on lockdown. How they won't let them off the base without an escort, but there conveniently was no manpower that could be spared to provide them said escort off base. Javi adds it to the list of shit he needs to manage now, and is seething by the time he climbs the steps and hustles into the building to meet with the new Minister of Defense.

Pleasantries aside, Javier senses the man is ambivalently on the level, but chooses to keep his cards close to the vest. He makes sure to keep his flippant sarcasm at a minimum as well, and manages to assure Botero that his only agenda is to take down the Cali cartel, and asks his help to lift the restrictions on Feistl and Van Ness. He doesn't expect the stoic man to suggest he find a witness who can testify against the cartel if he wants Gilberto Rodríguez to remain in jail. It feels like a warning more than a suggestion, so Javier rushes back to the embassy to just that.

You've just gotten back from a marathon of morning meetings when you walk into your office and sigh wearily as you sit in your desk chair, plopping your things on the desktop and checking your watch to see it's almost lunchtime when your cell phone rings. Reaching into your purse, you answer it.

"Hey," Javi's raspy baritone sounds tense, so your brows immediately furrow with worry. "Sorry for the short notice, but I can't do coffee today. I'm heading back to brainstorm over this Jurado thing with Stoddard."

"It's ok. How'd the meeting go?" you ask coolly and fiddle with a pen.

"It was a raking over the coals," he tells you acerbically, and you frown. "I went right after to meet with the new Minister of Defense. He basically told me Rodríguez could get out of prison if we don't find a witness against him and the cartel's operations," he sighs gruffly before muttering, "Need a break on Jurado's location."

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you get up to swiftly close your office door and sit on the couch to ask in a hushed tone, "Well, what about his wife?"

"…What about her?" he asks, perplexed.

"I mean, if you catch Jurado, you'll have to give him immunity and protection for his cooperation, right? Which naturally will extend to his wife, so, why not put pressure on her to tell you where he's at?" is your suggestion, and you hear Javi exhale a bemused sound along with what you imagine is cigarette smoke. "I know you'll play your hand that you're looking for him, but the longer you wait to get him, the bigger the chance he'll just go MIA – or the cartel will take him out," you remark, adding, "The wife is likely the only thing keeping him tethered here."

Javi can't help hum thoughtfully as he drives towards the avenue that leads to the embassy's main security gate. "See? You should've gone into law enforcement," he jibes wryly, smiling as he flicks his cigarette out of the window and chuckling when you snicker a silly sound. "I gotta go. I'll see you tonight."

"Good luck, agente," you purr in his ear, and heat flares down into his groin. "Bye."

He's in a better mood when he gets to his office ten minutes later and pauses at the sight of a to-go coffee cup waiting for him on his desk. Smirking, he picks it up and takes several sips as he unloads his bulky satellite phone to the desktop. Once he's chugged enough of the delicious brew, he places the cup down and makes a beeline to the makeshift audio room Stoddard's in currently listening to the latest of the wiretaps. Unfortunately, the man has no good news about Jurado's location, so Javi's stuck pondering a risky maneuver before deciding it's his best play, under the fucked circumstances. He doesn't even feel like a dick when Stoddard finally asks to talk about the legalities of the wiretaps and he flat out rhetorically tells his deputy to think about his career and whether having the conversation will help or hurt his chances of getting there.

Javier does feel like a dick when he rushes home to change out of his gray suit for a red wool blend button shirt and well-worn cool-toned brown velvet jacket, brown belt and blue jeans. Slipping on his favorite leather boots, he wonders if he should call you – let you know he's going to take your advice and approach Christina Jurado, but decides against it. He second-guesses himself once he's tailing her from her condo to an upscale high-rise bar in the city, though. After all, it's been a while since he's had to approach a target like this, and back when he did so, he'd been single and industrious. Flirting his way in was his specialty, but it'd mostly been with working girls – not a married gringa who didn't know her life was about to be upended.

Plus…he didn't really want to flirt her up, but under the hasty circumstances, he didn't have another idea in mind. Sitting at the end of the bar now, he watched her drink her martini, how she plucked the olives into her mouth from the wooden stirrer and seemed desperate for some kind of respite. She was an attractive woman, he couldn't deny that, but he struggled to find a decent enough throughway to hook her and get her talking. So, he told the bartender to send her a martini, courtesy of him.

Hell, he could be charming when he didn't want to be, so, he loped over and turned it on, going for charismatically dashing.

She was not buying it.

To his chagrin, Javi couldn't help be reminded of Lorraine. Of how she could shut him down with a tepid smile and a scathing squint of her blue eyes. Christina Jurado was clearly a loyal wife, and with his window of opportunity about to close with her strutting off, Javi relents and drops the act. She is none too please or willing to cooperate, dismissively storming off with a parting, 'Enjoy your drink, Elliot Ness,' shot that leaves him feeling like a righteous jackass.

"Fuck," he swears under his breath before turning to the bar and asking for the bill with an impatient tap on the bar top.

Regrouping, he goes to his car and calls Stoddard, ordering him to make sure to pull the wiretaps for all calls in the next few hours and have them ready for when he gets back to the office. Deciding a second run at Christina is necessary, Javier goes to the Jurados' luxury condo and has the front desk call up that an Elliot Ness is there to see her. Once up in the apartment, he sits down and gives her the hard sell. What seems to rattle her bitchy façade to flint away is the idea that no matter how things play out, there would be no future for her or Franklin if he didn't help the DEA out.

"I didn't plan on living like this. It…it was a mistake, not stopping it sooner. Have you ever done anything like that?" Christina rambles and asks.

"I have." His tone is sincere but no-nonsense.

He doesn't ask her for his location.

Fearing doing so would scare her off to calling and warning her husband, he decides it's best to bait the line and see if she and Franklin take it. After all, he'd rather get the jump on the guy than risk him getting cold feet – to him cutting and running. So, Javier leaves his card and tells her to think it over, but the look in his stern brown eyes tells her not to take too long.

While he hurries back to the embassy, you're going into your meeting with the ambassador. When he looks up from his desk as you walk in, he grins at the sight of two to-go coffee cups held in your hands.

"Bless you for having the foresight to know my ass is dragging today," he snickers as you hand him one of the cups before sitting across from him in front of his desk.

"It's been a hectic week for everyone, sir. I think coffee is the only thing keeping the place from folding down," you chuckle before taking a sip.

He hums over the rim of his cup after taking a long draw and placing his coffee aside with a raspy exhale and weary smile. "Well, I hate to make it any more hectic for you, darlin', but I wanted to give you a heads up that CIA is a little jealous of DEA getting to be part of the pilot before them. Bill Stechner's been impressed with your operation, and let me know he wants in on it," Crosby tells you in a put-on conversational tone.

You're internally bristling at the thought of that fucking asshole poking around, but you tactfully smile and retort, "I'd be happy to discuss it further with him, sir—"

"I'm going to speak plain now," Crosby cuts in and leans forward to confide, "Bill doesn't report to me. And while I don't report to the CIA, we both know they have a lot of pull down here. I know you dealt with resistance from the agency in the past, but he's got a different mind about things. I wouldn't be surprised if he expects your department to fall in line with his wishes, but I want you to know that is not coming from me. I will leave it to you to decide how much leeway you want to allow the station chief…but just know that he's a treacherous son of a bitch when he wants to be."

Not betraying a flicker of shock or worry, you nod curtly. "I appreciate the advice, ambassador. So, should I go up to the top floor and set up a meeting with him?"

"Nah, he doesn't actually spend much time up there. He has a tendency to show up out the blue, so don't be surprised if he just pops into your office at some point," Crosby answers mildly before picking up his coffee cup and reclining in his chair. "Anyway, in better news, the funding is being fast-tracked to the State Department next week, so let me know if there are any issues with the finance team."

"Will do, sir," you stand and offer him a kind smile as you muse, "Have a nice weekend, and give my regards to Mrs. Crosby."

By the time you're back in your office, you're simmering with anger. Stechner's play is still a mystery to you, but you know he's a bastard who uses people and has no qualms about tanking careers if it strikes his whim. You're distractedly ruminating over it as you sit at your desk and review some of the requisitions, trying to find anything that would've been an in for the station chief to poke around in, when Francesca pops her head into your office.

"Hey! Is it a good time to run something by you?" she asks, and you wave her in, so she closes the door and rushes over to take a seat across from you. "I have all the prep done for next week, and was wondering if you needed me to come in? Since it's a school break, I'll be free."

"Oh, that would be great! I can have you sit in on the system launch stuff too," you remark and smile at her. "What about Monday night? Got everything set?"

"Yeah, I got my questions prepped, and a disposable camera so I can snap photos to add to the report," she chimes affably and leans over your desktop to cheekily whisper, "And I even got a nice dress I'm kinda gonna borrow from my roommate without her permission, but she's going to be away, so no harm done!"

"Hah, I'm glad. Do you need a ride to the museum?" you ask as you nurse your coffee.

"Actually, my dorm is only a block away from MAMBO, so I'm all set," Francesca remarks and adjusts her glasses onto the bridge of her nose.

You're about to retort when a knock raps on your door before it's opened and Ellis pokes his head in now. "Hey, kids! Private meeting? Just wanted to check if we're still on for happy hour," he inquires.

"Yeah, I won't be there until late this time, though," you answer as you wave him in. "Francesca and I were chatting about next week."

As the three of you chat pleasantly, Javier is painstakingly reviewing the wiretaps with Stoddard, forcing him to rewind and fast-forward sections for him and adjust the audio quality when needed. He can hear the tense desperation in Christina's voice, and just hopes she doesn't completely fall apart and spook Franklin. But it's on the next playback that he hears the clue he needs, and with a surge of hope, he rushes out of the audio room to dig for the number of the language guy at SLS. Said guy informs him 'Danki masha danki' is Papiamento, so based on that, Javier searched Caribbean nations that would have a luxury resort with an island villa for rent.

Curaçao. It made so much sense, and he kicks himself for not having thought of it before. Once he's rushed out to Stoddard and given the man the instructions, Javier goes back to his office to call Crosby and give him the heads up.

While Javier starts working on a plan of action, you're trying to wrap up a few things in your office.

Wearing the eyeglasses you use when your eyes are straining from staring at the computer screen for too long, you're furiously typing away, entering your clearances to sign off on field offices' requisitions and running an assessment of their pilot program hours. Ellis and the rest of the staff had already headed out to the bar, and you'd assured him you'd be maybe fifteen minutes more when he'd loped out, so you're checking your watch and seeing you have a few more minutes to spare when a knock on your open door stirs you to glance up from your laptop.

"Bad time?"

You have to will your features into a stoic, placid regard upon seeing the CIA station chief taking up space at your doorway. "Not at all," you reply as you remove your glasses and shut your laptop before standing and gesturing to a chair while you ask, "Would you like to have a seat?"

"Ah, that won't be necessary," he casually waves off before loping into your office in a perusing pace, as if you're there for his amusement. "I take it you spoke to the ambassador?"

"Yes, and he informed me of your interest on having CIA on boarded to the pilot program," you retort and sit on the corner of your desk, which discourages him from loping any closer. "I know you rarely keep office hours, Agent Stechner—"

"Call me Bill," the smarmy man lilts and gives you a mild smile. "And I trust you to know the right resources that should be brought on to the pilot, but I have a list here," he remarks as he fishes out a folded piece of paper from his blue corduroy blazer's pocket and hands it to you. "These are my top guys – and gals – that I would like to have first shot at the program. If, they meet your requirements, of course," is his drawl as he flicks his deriding eyes from the paper to your gaze.

"Absolutely," you answer, deliberately avoiding addressing him at all by his title or first name. "Would you like me to set up a status report with your deputy?"

"I don't have one, but, like I said: I trust you," he muses glibly, slipping his hands in his dark slacks and shrugging his corduroy-clad shoulders before he turns and lopes to the door. "Oh, by the way," he says as he pauses at the threshold and turns to glance sidelong at you. "I hope you thanked Agent Peña for putting in a good word with the Senators. I doubt you would've gotten any of the funding you requested otherwise," he jabs as he toys his tongue along his bottom lip thoughtfully before adding, "Although, seeing as he spent his afternoon personally tracking a target and flirting her up at the bar, I guess you wouldn't have the opportunity to give him your thanks."

His steely blue eyes flicker over you, but instead of a haughty flare of temper, you serenely smile at him and remark, "Well, next time I see him, I'll be sure to thank him. He's been quite a busy man recently, after all."

The dig earns a quirk of his lips before he aloofly snickers, "You have a good night, director."

"You as well," you remark and stand to return back to your desk chair, making a point to dismissively open your laptop and go back to your work.

You can feel Stechner get a bit miffed that you don't track his exit, but when you distantly hear the chime of the arriving elevator out in the main hall, your poker face becomes a glower. Fucking asshole really has it in for Javi…I'm going to have to vet things quicker than planned…

As soon as Stoddard confirmed that Willemstad Police had a track on Franklin Jurado's location on the island, Javier instructed him to book a flight out for him ASAP, so once his deputy informed him the next departure was in a couple of hours, Javier told him to lock it in. He's rushing home a few minutes later, needing to pack his duffle with a few changes of clothes in anticipation of spending several days with the Cali moneyman once he's captured and processed in Miami. When he arrives in the garage and doesn't see your car, he frowns and hurries up to the apartment while he preemptively dials your cell phone number.

"Hello?" you answer, and he can hear a lot of ambient noise in the background.

"Hey, baby. Where are you?" Javi asks as he enters his apartment and turns on the lights before striding to his bedroom to grab his duffle.

"I'm at happy hour with my staff. Is something wrong?" you retort.

"Fuck…that's right. Sorry, I forgot," he grumbles while he starts packing clothes into the duffle. "Listen, something's come up, and I'm flying out to Curaçao, so I might be gone a few days—"

"You found him, then?" you ask, and he can't quite place your tone. "When is the flight?"

"It's in over an hour. I'm at my place packing and heading direct to the airport—"

"I'll leave now—" you begin to tell him.

"No, that's ok," he assures, although he would love to see you before he goes. "Don't come rushing over on my account. It'll only be a few days, and I'll call you when I can," Javier assures as he tosses his travel toiletry case into the duffle and zips it up. "I'm sorry about dinner."

You make an easy-going sound in response. "It's fine. Just promise me you'll let me know you've landed and are safe?" you petition, sounding like you've stepped outside to talk without the ruckus of the bar chatter and music. "And, promise you won't go cowboy down there?"

"…I can promise the former, but can't commit to the latter," he tells you honestly, and you huff into the phone. "Querida, I got my guys in Cali, so I'm going solo on this. I might need to do some cowboy shit," is his grouse as he shoulders his duffle and starts heading out.

"What happened to 'I'm not a field agent anymore? No more getting roped down into shit'?" you counter, which has Javi internally swearing while he locks up before stalking down to the elevator. But then, you let out a rescind hum. "Sigh…be careful, mi amor."

His frown becomes a rueful smile. "I will, cariño. I'll call you when I'm at the hotel. Ok?"

"You better," you growl at him, and that familiar flare of arousal coils in his apex at your bossy tone. "Have a safe flight, hermoso. I love you."

"Love you too, guapita. Talk soon," Javi purrs before ending the call and getting into the elevator.

Sighing worriedly, you lean against the banister of the bar's foyer, heartache already welling in your chest. You only stay half hour longer before making sure Ellis will settle the tab. "—And I'll come over to your place probably late afternoon with the lasagna," you're telling him as you shoulder your purse.

"Awesome! I'm salivating already," he quips and gives you a farewell hug before you pat Francesca on the shoulder and wave to the staff as you head out.

Javier's at the airport bar when Christina Jurado calls and assures that she can get Franklin to agree to cooperate – that she just needed more time. He's too tired to linger on the irony of the harried woman professing to something he knows is bullshit and was currently en route to rectify, but once his 2-hour flight to Willemstad lands, he snickers to himself. Even though he crashed and burned at the bar, approaching her had been a good play after all. The thought of telling you the story makes him wonder if you'll razz him, maybe even punish him for not quite following your suggestion. Fuck…she's got me whipped.

Any acerbic humor he nurses is snuffed the minute he steps off the plane and feels the Caribbean heat press into him.

By the time he's checked into his hotel room, Javier is hastily tearing his jacket off and stripping free of the rest of his clothes as he stalks to the small bathroom and gets the shower running. Even after the cold shower, he ends up standing in front of the air-conditioning unit's vents in his towel, baffled by how drastic the shift in climate could be. Deciding to stay parked in front of the blowing cold air for a bit, he grabs his satellite phone and dials your number.

You're just shuffling into his bedroom in your warm robe and slippers when your cell phone rings in the charger. Rushing to grab it, you answer in a playful chime, "How's that Caribbean night air treating you?"

"I'm sweating my balls off," Javi rasps laconically, and you giggle impishly as you sit on the bed. "Literally sitting in front of the air-conditioner's vent to try and not melt."

"Oof, that means tomorrow's likely to be humid," you tell him and idly kick your legs in a silly rhythm. He grunts peevishly, so you chuckle, "I thought you were made for heat, remember?"

"This is muggy hell, burlona," he drawls, but you can hear his smile. "Anyway…I'm sorry about today. But we finally heard Jurado say something that gave us a lead, and it was just fast and furious to align an operation and get here—"

"It's fine, Javi. I know how important it is. Just catch him and come back so we can do all the naughty things we talked about," you silkily murmur as you lie back on the bed to stare up at the ceiling.

His enticed groan has excitement fluttering in your core. "I will, preciosa. So…what're you wearing?" he purrs in that lower octave that has you shivering.

"Well, right now? My robe," you chirp simply as you sit up and add, "I haven't had a chance to lotion up, so nothing else underneath yet…"

"Fuck. You just had to put that mental image in my head, didn't you," he rumbles hotly, and you give him a silly hum in response, so he sighs, "All naked and smooth in your bed—"

"Oh, I'm actually in your bed," you remark offhandedly before hopping off to pace towards the closet as you muse, "It was closer, and I promised to peruse your wardrobe for you—"

As you're telling him and looking through his hung up clothes, Javi can't help but sit on his bed and smile at the idea that you went to his place – that you feel comfortable enough to stay there even when he's out of town. It makes him happy – lifts his spirits. Tossing his towel aside so he can settle more comfortably on the bed, he listens to you describe a particular dress shirt you're suggesting for him to wear.

"—Ah, I think it'll look nice with this dark charcoal suit," you're telling him as you hold out the black dress shirt and tuck it behind the lapel of the charcoal-colored suit jacket, admiring the contrast. "Hopefully you'll be back by then," you find yourself saying out loud as you keep pulling items to complete the ensemble together, cell phone propped strategically at your ear by your shoulder. The pleasant chatter is nice, and Javi's grunts sound relaxed and content.

You decided not to tell him about what Stechner had said. It didn't seem like something you should bring up with everything going on today, and you don't want to add any stress to Javier when he's got to keep his focus on catching Franklin Jurado. It also might have something to do with wanting him to mention the supposed flirt session with who you're guessing was Jurado's wife, and feeling it should be something he discloses—

"I'm confident we'll get him in custody tomorrow. The unknown is how long it'll take to process and finalize his cooperation agreement when we get to Miami," Javier is telling you, pulling you back from your absent styling. You're hanging the outfit you've picked out for him on the top of the closet door when he asks, "Oh, how did your meeting with Crosby go?"

"It was interesting," you find yourself remarking as you go now to the fridge and decide to snack on some of the fruit. You'd nibbled on appetizers at the bar, so you're not very hungry, and want the distraction of making yourself a treat as you continue, "He said the funding is being fast-tracked, so it'll be in next week." He hums, and you can tell he's getting sleepy, so you smile and purr, "You cooled down finally?"

"Mmhmm," he mumbles over the line. "Sorry, baby. Fucking exhausted…going to the police station first thing to coordinate things."

"It's fine, chulito," you say and smirk when he grunts at the nickname in half-asleep umbrage. "Good luck tomorrow, and…stay in touch, or else I'm going to punish you," is your alluring command.

Javi stirs and smiles broadly at the tone of your voice. "I'll call you tomorrow, querida. Promise…but I might be into getting punished anyway when I get back," he tells you in a husky purr and stretches out more comfortably before he murmurs, "I love you."

"Love you too, Javi. Goodnight."

He places his satellite phone to charge and then rolls over, lulled to sleep by the oscillating hum of the air-conditioning unit. While he's seguing into a deep slumber, you're chewing on the last piece of fruit and washing the dishes in the sink before shutting the lights out, shedding your robe to lotion your skin, and getting in pajamas before crawling into his bed, alone.

You can't help worry about Javi as you doze off to sleep, and even when you wake up, you lie in bed, cuddling his pillow to take in his scent as you fret over the possibilities that this will finally be the end of the cartel. What would happen once Jurado testifies? Would all the dominos fall in place? Is everything going to get better or worse for Javi?

Would you two finally be able to plan your life together beyond who's staying over at whose?

Annoyed with yourself, you get out of bed, make it, and start getting ready for your day. Once you're locking up the apartment and heading down to the parking garage to go to the market for some fresh ingredients before heading to your place to start the lasagna prep, Javi is checking in with Crosby.

He's just set out to trail Jurado once he'd coordinated a plan with the head of the Willemstad police, and while he's aggravated by the allowances he needs to make in not grabbing Jurado outside of a bank, he assures the ambassador that he doesn't anticipate any issues in capturing the man.

"Good, because I got everyone waiting in Miami on confirmation of the capture so they can start the proceedings. Keep me posted, Peña."

Javier ends the call and sits back in his seat in the car, watching the front of the bank they'd seen Franklin go into. He allows himself a cigarette, having skipped breakfast and feeling his gut start to roil from the anxiety. The two officers sitting up front are mumbling in Papiamento to each other, so he'd decidedly on the oust as he stares out the window behind his Aviator shades. It's hot as sin out, and even in his light cotton faded salmon-colored short-sleeved button up, Javier is sweating. He can't blame it completely on the heat, though.

When he spots Jurado walk out of the bank and waits for his chauffer to pull up, Javi taps at the back of the driver's headrest and tells him to follow him, but lag back so it isn't obvious. The man in the passenger's seat radios his commander and lets him know they're in pursuit. Tossing his cigarette out the window, Javier rolls it up as they start to tail the silver car towards the restaurant district of the city.

While he starts preparing for the possible confrontation, you're merrily popping the two lasagna trays into the oven. You're free now to catch up on chores, and once you've started on the laundry, you decide to call your grandmother and check in. She fills you in on all the latest, and starts in about needing you to take time off so you can help her shop and prep for your cousin's wedding as well as the actual event. You promise to carve out a few days so she and you can go shopping for the reception. Once she rushes off the phone, you snicker and continue with your to-do list.

Aside from being in decent spirits even though you're worried about Javi, you're relieved to be able to go tampon-free once you'd found you're no longer bleeding or even spotting. His dick really was the ultimate period reliever, you think crassly to yourself before chuckling as you water your plants before tidying up the kitchen.

You've just finished folding your laundry – dutifully setting Javi's shirts aside for ironing – when scratches at your balcony doors are followed by a yowl. "Hah, well then, come in, missy," you open one of the doors to the black cat who meows a bunch at you, as if recriminating you for not being around the last few days. You pet her before breaking out the tuna and plating it. The phone rings as you just placed her food and water down for her, so you hurry to answer the call.

"Well, don't you sound spry! I thought there'd be a chance you were still in bed, ketsele," Sasha's velvety drawl earns a snicker from you.

"The days of sleeping in until noon have long been over," you jibe. "You make it in ok? How do you like Colombia so far?"

"It's very nice. I was a bit jetlagged, so I haven't seen much, but I'll be at the museum today and tomorrow to supervise the installation. You're still able to come on Monday?" he asks, and for some reason, you can picture him pacing, and toying with his earlobe – all his nervous tells you'd catalogued after years of friendship. Maybe it's the musing tone in his voice?

"Yes! I'm so excited to see you and get a look at what's so top secret," you assure warmly. "It's still alright to bring all the people on my list?"

"Of course. They're already on the VIP list," there's a pause. "So, which one is your date?" he rasps, tone hitting a huskier note as be purrs, "I'm guessing it's the one with the gallant-sounding name. What was it? Javier Pena?"

"Peña," you correct, pursing your lips at his teasing grunt. Sitting on your couch and staring at the cat as she lounges like the Sphinx, you add, "And yes, he's my date. Although, he might not be able to make it—"

"Not so gallant then after all…" you hear him disparage under his breath.

"He's currently out of town, and might not be back in time, bub," you answer aloofly, which always gets Sasha's attention. "So? You going to give me a hint as to the theme of this collection?"

"Ah, I want to see your reaction, so no, you'll just have to be surprised, darling," he husks in a deep chuckle. "I have to run. The car is here. I can't wait to see you, krasivaya," Sasha purrs.

"Looking forward to it, velvel," you chime, and grin when Sasha scoffs haughtily at your nickname for him, reserved for times you truly want to bug him. You still remember the time you'd asked his sister, 'What's wolf in Yiddish?' only to turn around and purr into Sasha's ear while on the way to a night out clubbing, 'My blue-eyed velvel…'

"If your date is a no-show, I'm going to get you back for that, ketsele," he growls, and you just laugh irreverently, so he grouses, "I mean it!"

"Go to your car already!" you order playfully. "Goodbye."

He gives you one parting growl before hanging up, and you just chuckle to yourself as you go back to your chores.

As you're currently checking on the lasagnas in the oven, Javi is walking up to the restaurant he'd seen Jurado go into. The Willemstad police commander pulled up in his own patrol unit and joined him at the curb before silently communicating he'd go in first. They both strolled in, and the moment Javi loped towards the bar and then looked at the dining room to his right, he locked eyes with Franklin – and the bastard booked it.

Giving chase, he sprinted through the kitchen and out to the callejón at the back of the block. The fucker was an agile and fast runner, even in the blazer and dress shoes, making a quick sprint around the corner and up into a building with Javi and the other officers right on his heels. By the time Javi gets to the top of the stairs, he's worried Jurado gave them the slip, so he orders the officers to check the back while he dips into the next room. But his sixth sense has him rushing back and running to the balcony to spot Franklin exiting and rushing down the street.

"Fuck!" Javi snarls as he bounds over the balcony's railing and maneuvers his frame down enough before he lets go to drop hastily down to the sidewalk below before continuing his ambling sprint after the Cali moneyman. Even with the head start, he manages to gain on him once Franklin ditched his jacket and tried to mingle into the crowded, tourist-laden plaza. But Javi spots him when Franklin is spiraling in the middle of the crowded promenade when he sees the patrol units pull up and cut off his escape.

The look in the man's eyes tells Javi he's desperate, so he mutters, "Don't run," as he holds up his weapon, but when Jurado tries to scramble away, Javi shoots four warning shots in the air, which instantly has the man quaking in his leather dress shoes and stopping while the panicked onlookers disperse. Marching gruffly up to him, Javi, in a commanding, albeit winded tone declares he's being extradited for money laundering and racketeering as the officers detain Franklin and put the cuffs on him.

"My wife. You need to make sure—"

"She's in Bogotá. She'll meet us in Miami," Javier cuts in before gesturing to the officers to take him away.

While they put him in the back of a squad car, Javier's adrenaline finally comes down and he realizes he's sweating buckets, so he wipes at his brow and his upper lip as he dials the ambassador's office. He updates Crosby, who assures him everything is in the works and to let him know once Jurado's started talking so he can update the Department of Justice.

"Agent Peña. Good work."

The praise has Javi feeling raw and outside of his skin. He chalks it up to being fucking exhausted, out of shape, and sweating like a damn pig after the chase in the muggiest heat he's dealt with. It sticks with him once he's back in his hotel and splashing water on his face before wringing a damp towel and using it to wipe the sweat from the back of his neck, throat, and chest. Grabbing his duffle and checking out, he rushes out without taking the shower he desperately needs to instead hop into the patrol car that's escorting him to the airport so he can get en route to Miami with Franklin first thing.

While they're loading the man onto the private plane and chaining him to his seat, Javi sneaks off to the side to call you.

"Hey! Are you alright?" you ask, tone teeming with worry.

"Yes, everything's fine. I got him," Javier tells you, idly running his fingers through his hair. "I'm on my way to Miami. Hoping he starts talking as soon as he's processed, that way I can be on the first flight back with the intel."

He hears you sigh in relief. "I'm so glad. Call me and let me know once you're there?"

Looking back when the air marshal signals they're ready for him, he nods at him and starts loping over to the plane's steps. "I will," he says, pausing at the bottom step once the marshal has re-entered the plane in order to purr a covert, "I love you."

"I love you too. Now hurry up and get back," is your charming demand, and he can hear your sultry smile in it, which has his pulse skipping a beat.

So, as he climbs the steps, he laconically drawls, "Yes, boss lady," before saying goodbye.

Standing outside on Ellis and Anita's patio, you let out a cleansing breath and lean against the wrought-iron railing. You'd been in the middle of an animated conversation with your friends over lasagna when your phone rang in your purse and you'd practically sprinted for it and rushed outside for privacy.

When you come back in, Ellis eyes you intently, trying to read if you're upset before he asks, "Everything ok?"

"Yeah, it's all good. Sorry for rushing out like that," you meekly retort before sitting back at the table. "That was so rude of me—"

"Well, make it up to us by passing me more of the sauce?" Anita diverts your self-deprecation and smiles when you grin and hand her the bowl. "So, we were talking about the dress code Monday night?" she redirects back to the previous conversation.

"Ah, just a nice cocktail dress should suffice," you answer before the conversation veers into the plan for you all going together to the art show.

A few hours of good company later, and you and Ellis are sitting at the now-cleared table just chatting idly about the office while Anita made the mistake of going to sit on the couch after all that lasagna. Once she passed out, you both nursed your drinks and talked in hushed tones. He's discussing the latest he'd heard from Devon and Jackie when you remember the interaction with Bill Stechner the night before. Begrudgingly, you decide to fill him in. You don't tell him the contentious backstory between the CIA station chief and the DEA country attaché, but you do tell him how the smarmy man seems to have an axe to grind against Javier.

"I mean, Samson once mentioned something about him derailing things Mil Group had in the works. Shit, I think Benson once made a crack about Stechner being the one behind that story," he pauses and eyes you keenly. "The Miami Herald thing."

You nod, figuring it wouldn't hurt to divulge just a little more to Ellis. "The source? She'd been Javi's criminal informant, and while on the way to record her testimony against the Cali cartel, Stechner had his contact put her on a plane and ship her off to do that hit piece instead," you tell him, tone clinical while your gaze narrows in retroactive anger. "She flipped to be a CIA informant, and since they weren't supposed to be going after the Cali cartel, Stechner had Messina and Javi rotated out," is your elaboration as you swirl your drink idly and stare into the glass. "I'm sure he's going to use Javi as a scapegoat again to obfuscate the shit he's really doing. I just don't know what his play is towards our department."

"Well, I'll ask around. Vet the names he gave you," Ellis remarks and drains his glass of scotch. "Do you think he knows about you two?" he asks and watches you flick your gaze back up at him and ponder something silently.

"…He knows about us. So, he could potentially use that to interfere with us at the embassy," you admit before finishing your drink. "But, oddly, I don't get the feeling that he's going to expose us. I just can't figure out what his angle is towards me…"

"Maybe he just wants to fuck you," Ellis blurts derisively, and you comically grimace at the prospect. "I mean, I know plenty of guys at the embassy that would definitely be bummed at finding out you're with Peña," he can't help snort.

While Ellis keeps razzing you until you haughtily change the subject back to work, Javier is charged up with exhilaration as he briefs the Department of Justice lawyers who've met him at the processing checkpoint.

The flight to Miami had been a contentious one until Jurado had staked his terms: He won't say a word until he sees his wife. Once that's done, Javi will have his witness. So, once they'd landed and were deplaning, he's flippant with Christina. After all, she's calling, all frazzled, and running away from Stoddard and the security detail he'd had sent to her place rather than just fucking cooperating already. As they're taking Franklin and loading him into the back of an SUV, he tells her that he's been arrested. His patience with her has worn out, and he tells her this is it – to get to the embassy immediately and not talk to anyone.

Now, as he's walking the corridors and giving the interrogators the instructions of exactly what he needs them to get out of Jurado, he can't help feel a little guilty about how impatient he was with her. But the moment he turns the corner and sees into the interrogation room, those sentiments evaporate and are replaced by the cold anticipation of defeat that's welling in his gut.

Fucking lawyers, he can't help think before the smug bastard waltzes out of the room and tells him Franklin isn't cooperating. But what feels like the gut punch is the unscrupulous man telling him glibly that his wife 'met with Jurado's employers' and had a change of heart. Rocked, Javi frantically calls the embassy and finds out no one ever arrived under the name Christina Jurado, and when they patch him into Stoddard's line, his deputy gives him the real shitty news:

"—Found a vehicle with a dead female driver, and Christina Jurado's purse was in the front seat, boss. They must've been trailing her this whole time, and the minute Franklin's arrest hit the wires, they moved on her," Stoddard theorizes glumly.

Javier's never felt more demoralized in his life. Not even the switcheroo Stechner pulled on him with Judy Moncado had left him reeling as bad as he is now, standing on the tarmac while they prep the private jet for him back to Bogotá. Vacantly, he stares at his satellite phone before mechanically dialing the number.

You're humming a song to yourself as you iron a dress shirt while watching the variety show on the TV in your living room when your cell phone rings. Smiling, you set the iron down and rush to answer it. "¿Bueno, cómo le va, mi patrón?" you singsong silkily. When you don't hear his amused or enticed grunt in response, you sober and strain your hearing. It sounds like he's outside, but you can't make out where. "Javi?"

"…I'm flying back tonight."

Alarmed, you sit in the chair in front of the coffee table, feeling nervous about his emotionless tone. "What's wrong?" you ask, and when you can feel his tension even over the line thousands of miles away, you decide to press tentatively, "Tell me what happened, mi amor."

There's a foreboding pause that has you trembling with fear of the worst – heart racing and breath catching in your chest when you finally hear him exhale a lonesome sound.

"We fucked up. Jurado was going to cooperate only if we could get his wife out of Colombia and let him see her, but she got taken before my people could secure her," he tells you in a hollow drone, and you cover your mouth to stifle your gasp. "I'd fucking just spoken to her right when we landed! I told her to get to the fucking embassy, and in less than an hour, she got grabbed—"

You're absorbing everything, and the shock is quickly set aside by your tactical, clinical nature kicking in and immediately analyzing all the contingencies and worst-case scenarios. When you hear his tone getting that irascible edge, you cut in, "This isn't your fault, Javier."

"…I have to go."

The sadness that curls in your chest has your bottom lip trembling. "Ok…I love you—"

The dial tone interrupts you, and you listen to it for a beat too long, processing things before you end the call.

Javier's gone on autopilot. It's the only way his mind can stop him from succumbing to the blinding rage that's suffocating him. The wrath helps keep the self-loathing at bay. It also keeps him awake and numb as he sits on the plane – alone – and flies back into the clusterfuck that is his assignment. He helps himself to a double whiskey neat, and stares off into space while his fury roils him. He'd already told Crosby the shit news, and rather than chew his ass out, the man had just icily told him to get the fuck back and start dealing with the shitshow that'd erupted while he'd been babysitting Jurado all day.

It's after midnight by the time he lands, and the drive to his place is filled with the quiet rage of his thoughts. You fucked this up. Why didn't you put her into protective custody?! Have a fucking escort tailing her?! Snarling, he reaches for a cigarette, and by the time he gets to his apartment and parks in the garage, he's in full self-loathing mode. The bitter taste in his mouth only gets worse when he thinks about how badly this whole fuckup has set him back, and with the snarky update Crosby gave him about the assassination attempt in a crowded club during the height of the Feria de Cali, he feels boxed in by all the new obstacles he's now having to surmount.

Dejectedly exiting the car, he stubs the cigarette butt out with the tip of his boot before grabbing his duffle and walking to the elevator. He's making a mental list of all the things he'll need to deal with in the morning while he trudges down the hall towards his apartment door, feeling like shit when he realizes he'd been a callous asshole on the phone with you. Annoyed with himself further, he unlocks the door and enters his place.

He's bemused to find the living room dark, save for the ambient glow of the television sitting on. Adjusting his tired gaze, he realizes there's a form curled up on the couch. Shutting the door and quietly placing his duffle down by the credenza, he lopes closer, and once his eyes have adjusted to the lowlight, he makes you out.

You're asleep, curled up on your side under the throw blanket. Something fragile wriggles in his chest, making him feel afflicted and hopeful at the same time. Before he's able to confront the dueling feelings, he's gone to sit on the edge of the sofa so he can admire your sleeping features. Reaching his fingers to gently brush your hair from your face, Javi gets calmed by the serene softness of your countenance in this state.

Tucking the rogue strands behind your ear is what makes you stir. Groggily you unfurl under the throw and murmur, "Javi?"

"…I didn't expect you…to be here," his halting murmur stirs you fully awake, and you go to sit up. The throw slinks down from your shoulders and reveals you're wearing his favorite nighty – the one with the slit up the thigh. His eyes linger on the delicate fabric clinging to your breasts, which distracts him long enough for you to shift up and throw your arms around him.

Hugging him tight, you bury your face in his neck. "I'll always be here for you," is your murmur, and you feel Javi go slack, so you give him a fortifying squeeze. "You can't just hang up on me and not expect to find me waiting for you in the dark of your apartment," you quip.

Javi lets out an acerbic snort and encircles you, pulling you close. He nuzzles your soft hair and breathes in your enchanting scent. "I'm a fucking asshole," he tells you in a rumbled drone.

Frowning, you pull back and cup his face, staring deep into his loathsomely frowning, dark brown eyes. "You are not," is your counter, and he flicks his gaze away. "Mírame, Javier." When he slowly looks back into your fierce stare, you tell him, "I will not let you wallow in this."

"…You don't have to do anything—" he begins to dismiss as he nudges you back so he can stand.

Literally shoving him back down and straddling his lap to keep him pinned in place, you imperiously glare at him. "I'm not going to let you beat yourself up," you declare in an exacting tone, eyes boring into his with conviction until he surrenders. "You want to vent? Go ahead. But you're not going to swallow up your anger and turn it around on yourself."

Disarmed, he tosses his head back and wrings his hand over his features before pressing it into his eyes with exasperation as he collects his thoughts. You take the moment to catalogue how tense his muscles feel under your touch. His scent teems with briny, dried sweat, the remnants of his overworked deodorant and cologne, the clinging whiff of chain-smoked cigarettes, and the spice of whiskey on his breath.

"…Do you know how fucking maddening it is to get the guy – to have chased him like a fucking old dog running after the meat wagon – only to have a cartel-retained lawyer tell you before your own people that the bargaining chip you had got fucking snatched right out from under you?"

You calmly sit on his lap while he drops his hand moodily to the armrest and glares up at the ceiling.

"…Is that why you have such a ripe tufo on you?"

Javi barks out a laugh and looks at you. "I thought you liked how I smelled?" he drawls as he scratches at his sweat-permeated hair.

"I love how you smell, but right now, you stink," you chime and shrug innocently, trying to lighten the mood. "You chased that fucker in humid heat and stayed in these sweaty things all day?" is your faux-aghast lilt as you tug on his shirt and wrinkle your nose cutely at him.

Javier scowls. "Alright, I get the point," he grumbles and nudges you onto the couch so he can stand. "I had more important things to do than smell good for anyone today—" is his grouchy huff as he stalks over to snatch his duffle bag up and heads with it to the bathroom.

"Ok, so, let me amend something to you," you cut in and adjust to sit up on your knees on the couch so you can glare at his back. "You don't get to beat yourself up, or take your shitty mood out on me, Javier," is your sharp remark when he pauses in the hall.

Ashamed, he nods before rushing into the bathroom and shutting the door.

You frown, feeling that familiar ache in your heart. Your temper flared and got the best of you when you should've just understood how low he feels right now. Lying back down on the sofa, you listen to the hum of the shower running, and before long, you doze off for an unmeasured period of time, before you feel yourself being lifted up off the couch.

Javier carries you in his arms to his bed, still warm and dewy from the shower, so you cuddle into him and mumble, "Sorry…" He pauses at that just as he was going to set you down, so you stir fully awake and curl your arms around him. "I shouldn't have snapped at you—"

Shaking his head, he sets you down on the bed and starts trying to tuck you in. "You didn't," he huffs and goes to move away, but you grab his hand, so he gruffly exhales and sits at the side of the bed. You realize he's only in a towel that's wrapped snugly around his hips. You're still a little drowsy, so you're having a hard time deciphering his mood, but when he squeezes your hand, you sit up and lean into his back, rubbing your palm soothingly along the curve of his shoulder. "I…whenever I've dealt with something like this, I just…" he trails off, brooding thoughts weighing heavy on him. He doesn't have the gall to say that in his lowest moments, he'd drink himself into a stupor, or seek out the company of women he could fuck his anger away with. The shame is like an anchor tied around his neck, and he suddenly bows his head and vacantly rubs his hand over his moustache before blurting, "I just want to take this out of me."

You jolt at that and shift to wrap your arms around him from behind. "Take what out?" you query on a thin whisper.

Javi shakes his head in disgust with himself. "Just forget I said that…" he rasps and shies away from your embrace.

Wounded, you lean away and try not to let the knot forming in your throat break loose the tears you feel welling up there. "I—I'll give you your space then," you whisper and amble to the foot of the bed in order to retrieve some clothes from the drawer.

Your breath catches in your chest when his hand grabs your upper arm and pulls you around to face him before he tugs you close. "Goddammit, I don't—I don't want to be alone…I fucking just—I don't fucking trust myself," he growls in terse frustration, usually soulful eyes fraught with conflicting emotions. "I'm so fucking tired of being angry…"

That strikes such a chord in you that he's taken aback by the fire that flares in your smoldering gaze as you slink up against him and grip your hands at the back of his neck. "Then fucking do something about it, querido," you hiss and nudge your cheek into the side of his jaw in a primal sign of wanting to rile him. His breath hitches, and he stares ambivalently down at you, so you decide to give him another push.

You whip his towel off of his hips and suckle a hard kiss to the top of his left pectoral before murmuring haughtily, "Fuck me already, Javier."

The intensity you see ignite in his dark eyes sends a flutter into your womb, and before you can blink, Javier has whisked you up into his arms and tossed you onto the bed before pouncing down on you. Your gasp stutters when he smothers your mouth with his and kisses you like nothing in the world matters. His tongue sweeps into your mouth and claims you with ravenous hunger as his hands possessively clutch you to him – warm skin pressing down on you and the firm press of his cock grinding into your inner thigh.

No words pass between you as he suddenly snatches you up and hikes your nighty off in an impatient yank before he tugs you around to face the foot of the bed while he hitches up flush behind you and suckles wanton kisses into your neck and shoulder. You moan and arch back into him, feeling alight and tingling wildly with anticipation when he sweeps his fingers through your folds and feels how hot and wet you are, how your desire drips slickly over his digits while his thumb grinds against your clit.

"Ah!" you whimper and cling to his arms when he plunges two fingers into you and curves them while he nuzzles you dominantly before nipping at the delicate spot just under your ear. His cock is digging into the plump ridge of your ass while he continues to tease your clit, fill your cunt with his fingers, and suckle greedily down the length of your neck before he fondles his other hand from your waist to squeeze your tit and pluck at your studded nipple.

You gasp and squirm in delight, feeling overloaded by all the pleasurable sensations when he suddenly yanks his fingers out of your clenching cunt and sucks them into his mouth while he shoves you down onto your hands and knees before his hand grips your hip to pivot your pelvis up to align for the spear of his cock. The sound you let out when Javi thrusts into you to the hilt from behind is needy and alluring, which helps rein in his feral concentration.

The sight of you bowing into the bed with your lower back arched up – ass high and right, where he can see his cock getting swallowed by your tight pussy? That primal desperation rakes up in him, a lewd urge he's always tried to keep at bay when he's with you but now feels it overtaking him with a demanding fury.

You're not prepared when his hand latches to your shoulder and yanks you up from the bed while he ferociously tugs your hip back to slam you full-force onto his cock. Gasping, you instinctively reach a hand backwards to cling to the wrist of the hand gripping your hip and setting the pace of his now relentless pounding thrusts while the other grapples for balance on the bed. You whimper when his fingers knead into your hip – feeling like he's imprinting them to the sinew, so you toss your head back on a reedy mewl and catch your reflection in the mirror above his dresser.

You've never seen Javi look so wild. His shoulders are rolled back, chest puffed out – looking intensely broad, with every muscle bunched up as he unfocusedly stares into the back of your head while he grunts and growls with every pounding slam of his cock into you, lips curling back from the brutal force of him trying to take his pleasure by pounding his savage need in you.

The feral fervor etched into his features – that's ticking his jaw and making him bare his teeth after a particularly deep slam of his cock – has you blooming with something primordial and intense. He's never fucked you like this, never been so rough, and rather than scare you, it has you coiling up with a searing desire. So, you suddenly shift your knees for better purchase and rock your hips backwards to meet his next thrust, then the next, and the sounds you've been biting back? You let them out, no matter how heady and obscene they are echoing in the room over the squelching slap of skin-on-skin.

The blown-out, unfocused stare flits away from Javi's ferocious features and he gasps as you dig your fingertips into his wrist and watch him fuck you in the mirror. He follows your gaze and sees the lurid display of you both reveling ardently in each other for the first time, and the hoarse growl he lets out has you clenching and flooding with arousal until your thighs are damp with it.

It's all too much for him to not chase and plummet headfirst into, so he hammers his cock into you and clutches you protectively against him when you cry out, "Javi!" in a drawn out sob and climax all over his apex while he continues to pound your pussy until it clamps down on him. You're deliriously mewling and writhing, mind gone the minute his cock drove into you with such force you would swear he punched up into your womb. So you're unconsciously reacting to him hauling you up to be pressed against him while he groans a fierce sound just as his cock swells and he shouts out his orgasm. You moan at the sensation of Javier filling you with cum after such a fierce coupling, shivering as he prolongs the exhilarating sensations tumbling wildly inside you.

You cling to his hand when it grips your ribcage to pin you in place against him, and moan in satisfaction when the hand gripping your shoulder curls at the side of your head and laces its fingers into your tousled hair there to tilt your face up so he can press his face into you – to dominantly nuzzle your temple, cheekbone and jaw.

He shudders, hips stuttering the remnants of his powerful ecstasy as he exhales a panting grunt and buries his face into your neck while he holds you possessively. You're coming down from the prolonged bliss, sweating and throbbing and feeling the most alive you've ever been. So it's disarming when Javier seems to jolt against you and starts to reel away.

Now in his right frame of mind, Javier is prodded by the sense memory of the last time he'd done this – lost himself in pounding his fury away in the throes of rough sex until he was no longer anything but the angry thing he tried so hard to keep locked down deep in himself. It's like a scalding déjà vu, and he's retreating back from you as anxiety springs up in him. Fuck, no, fuck, what did I do?! Jesus Christ, I never wanted to do this with her—

You don't know why he's suddenly skittish, but you intuitively sense this is something loathsome and harsh he's become tangled up in, so you turn and grab his face. Hands firmly gripping and pinning him in place from shifting away, you're searching his startled expression. You're both panting, still recovering from the animalistic coupling, and even though you are literally a ravished mess, you look deep into Javi's dark brewed eyes and see something you don't expect.

"Don't run away," you whisper and press closer to him, and he shudders. His shoulders droop as the shaky exhale he lets out has his frame trembling with something he's trying to keep control of. "You don't have to hide anything from me," you murmur and pull him close, looping your arms around his shoulders and kissing his cheek while he silently wars with himself, so when you see him squeeze his eyes shut and huff tensely, you susurrate, "I love you, Javi. Please, don't push me away…just let me in."

Javier dissolves at that. Internally crumbles at the profoundly overwhelming tumult warring in him. Falling back to sit on the bed with his knees butterflying askew, he hunches protectively, completely ashamed as he buries his face in his hands and stutters a weary breath. You can't take seeing him like that, so you straddle his lap and wrap your arms around him, hugging him with all your might as you press your nose to his hair and kiss him. His hands move around to grip you desperately to him as he hides his face in your neck.

You hold him for a quiet beat, concentrating on listening to his breathing and feeling his muscles relax the longer you dotingly kiss his head and squeeze and rub his shoulders.

"You don't have to hide your anger from me," you find yourself murmuring softly. "It doesn't scare me. You don't scare me."

He shifts to rest his forehead to your cheek, but doesn't say anything, thoughts racing through the quicksand of his mind.

"And no – that wasn't scary or overwhelming or too rough," you tell him in a quipping tone, and he lets out his breath in a charged huff. "Talk to me, mi amor."

"…I-I never wanted to do that…only did that…" he's haltingly grasping for words, but is utterly ashamed – tongue-tied and wary of voicing the truth.

With a sigh, you turn to kiss his temple. "Only with women like that Gabby and Vanessa – with just working girls," you fill in for him, and when he stirs and leans back to stare in open, unguarded shock, you cup his cheek. "I told you what I would do when I would get so angry that I just couldn't handle ignoring it, right?"

Javier nods. "But that was different," he croaks.

"No, it wasn't," you reply and rest your forehead to his. "I'm not this fragile, delicate thing you can't be raw with. You can vent with me, Javi."

"Is that what we're going to call that?" he blurts before shying his brown puppy eyes away. "…Venting?"

"We can call it 'doing the caveman,' if you want," you jibe, and he actually lets out a startled laugh. "I mean, look at us. We clearly enjoyed it—"

"Jesus, querida," he snickers and covers his nervously beguiled face with his hand. "I was fucking cringing that I went too goddamn far—"

"Have I ever let you do something I didn't like?" you cut in and bossily pull his hand away so he can see your confident smile. "Or not told you when something did not feel good?" When his brows crinkle from him trying to think back, you roll your eyes and deadpan, "Remember 'mamita'? Or when you plowed your cock into me that one time on the kitchen island—"

"Fucking hell, yeah…I remember," he grumbles, a bit exasperated, so you growl and shake him by the shoulders until his sulky pout is replaced by a lopsided smirk. "So you're saying you liked it, and it wasn't just something you went along with for my sake?" he presses, that little furrow in between his brows getting deeper when he adds, "It didn't hurt…at all?"

He has to ask. After all, Gabby had remarked offhandedly once how she would probably have a hard time walking after one particularly rough session.

You kiss his lips and give him a sweet smile. "I mean, it was that exhilarating kind of thing where pain and pleasure are entwined together" you answer honestly and nudge him down to lie back on the rumpled pillows so you can lounge on top of him. "It felt great, babe," is your sultry purr as you caress his hair and smile at his enthralled stare. "I'm kinda annoyed you've been holding back on me, actually—"

"Fuck me," he scoffs sardonically and runs a hand down his face in flustered intrigue.

You giggle and kiss his chin when he dips his head back into the pillow. With a sobering sigh, you keep caressing his hair as you admit, "I would want to feel anything else but the anger. The way that worked the best and didn't involve getting sloshed, or doing really reckless adrenaline-junkie-kind-of-things was to get lost in the feeling of sex," you pause when he exhales worriedly and caresses you protectively. Smiling, you rest your head on his shoulder and continue, "Sometimes it'd be me using a guy…I think that's what happened with Luke – with most of the guys in my past…"

Javier is silent, but he hasn't stopped caressing you, and when you hesitate in continuing, he kisses your temple. "I ever made you that angry?"

"Yes," you admit. "I missed you so much…was so angry that I would never see you again. So I just…I just surrendered to getting lost in any other feeling, would ask him to be rough – to fuck me with abandon. But, he and I…I don't know. I didn't want anything but the distraction, so I don't know what would've happened had he not been reassigned," is your stream of conscious as you nose his neck. "I probably would've pushed him away…"

"Because he didn't really do it for you?" he can't help grumble as he runs a hand over your mussed hair.

"Because I really only wanted to be with you," you declare simply and nuzzle him under the hinge of his jaw.

Absorbing that, Javier can't help feel completely at ease now. He always felt alone and ashamed by his coping mechanisms, by how he went about shaking free from his loathsome fury. But right now, he doesn't feel alone anymore. It's also resonating deeply with him, hearing you confide to him these things you've never shared with anyone. It all has him bowled over. And, the fact that you have opened up so much to him in his lowest moment has anchored him, saved him from the tempest of his anger. So, he sits up and kisses you adoringly.

"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

The weighty murmur gives you pause and makes your heart swell. "Javi…" you hiccup, feeling overcome with emotion as he gazes deeply in your eyes and caresses the back of his knuckles along your cheek. No one has ever said that to you, and the reverent look in his eyes makes you feel filled with vast love. His expression softens as he leans down and kisses you with toe-curling passion. You cling lovingly to him as you both stretch out and cuddle into each other, before you snicker despite yourself. When he looks into your eyes with concern, you meekly mumble, "We're both so sticky."

He laughs, and with a wonderful grin, Javier sits up and literally picks you up to march gallantly to the bathroom. "Quick shower, and no funny business," he drawls, and you try not to melt.

Once you're both warm and dewy, thanks to Javi hastily drying the both of you, he picks you up and carries you to bed. Slipping under the covers with him never felt better, and before you know it, you're fast asleep in his arms. Nuzzling the top of your hair, Javi relishes your comforting smell, as he gets lost in thought about everything that's gone wrong. It's like his work is destined to always get derailed – to constantly be racing to a result before failure inevitably sets in.

Part of him still feels scared that the turmoil will impact things with you. That seeing any more of his dark, furious moments will alienate you from him. The heaviness in his chest when he worries about losing you only subsides when he recalls what you'd told him previously.

"You, Javier Felipe Peña, are the love of my life. I've never been happier, and more hopeful than I feel right now, being with you."

Consoled by the recall, he closes his eyes and dozes off to the hope that he'll be able to live up to making you happier and inspiring more hope to bloom inside you for the future.

Unfortunately, it won't be that simple.

________________

Read Chapter 26: Art

Spanish-English Glossary:

Beyako = Puerto Rican slang for horny/naughty guy; akin to "horn dog"

Querida = Affectionate term for a female, akin to expressing one's want and desire

Pinche cabrón = Fucking asshole

Más macho = More manly; akin to saying "the most manly man"

Mi amor = My love

Pollo = Chicken

Malcriada/malcriado = Brat/spoiled

Cariño = Darling/sweetheart

Mi hermosura, tan tierna y calientita = My beauty, so tender and warm

Deja de tentarme, amado = Stop tempting me, beloved

Mi tiernita = My tender little girl

Guapita = Sassy/foxy/daring/testy lady

Chulo/Chulito = Cute guy; little cutie

Burlón = Joker; teaser

Tan atrevida = So daring [woman]

Traviesa = Naughty/Mischievous girl

Mira quien habla = Look who's talking

Bravita= Tough girl; feisty girl

Buenas noches, chavón = Goodnight, pesterer

Mi patrón = My master/boss

Preciosa = Gorgeous; precious

Tenientes = Lieutenants

Agente = Agent

Gringa = American woman

Hermosa/hermoso = Beautiful (female); beautiful (male)

Burlona = Joker (female)

Callejón = Alleyway

¿Bueno, cómo le va, mi patrón = Well, how's it going, my master?

Mírame, Javier = Look at me, Javier

Tufo = Stink

Thanks for reading! Please consider leaving a comment and sharing your feedback. I would be eternally grateful.

#Heat - Narcos fanfic #Javier Peña #Javi Peña #Narcos #Narcos fan fiction #Javi x Querida #Javi Peña fan fiction #Javi Pena #Javier Pena #Javi Pena Narcos #Javi Pena fan fiction #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal characters #Javi Peña x Latina OFC

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thefreakydeaky · 4 years ago

Text

Call Out My name

Part Seven Title: Pretty

Characters: Negan, Reader, A stupid little prick named Rick Grimes, Garbage pail kid Daryl Dixon, Tanya and Frankie, Gregory, Mentions of Simon, Dwight,Sherri, Amber, Ezekiel, Maggie Rhee, Wives: Tanya and Frankie, and Lucille.

Summary: You belonged to him.Try as you might to pretend indifference, Negan’s very presence has awakened feelings in you that you believed had died with the old world.Is the ruthless King of the Sanctuary still human enough to fall in love?

Warnings: Language, Canon Typical Negan BS, Canon Typical Violence, A bit of gore, Angst.

Word Count: 3,557

“What did I miss?” Negan inquired as the door shut behind him.

"I dunno what you mean.” You struggled to remove your panties.

“Sin-since when do you get into cat fights?” His eyebrows raised as he watched you hop around clumsily. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Taking off my bra and panties.” You huffed pulling one arm into your dress to work open the clasps.

“Stop it.Here let me.”Negan shook his head in exasperation as he came to stand in front of you.

His long fingers gathered the soft material of your dress.He lifted it up over your head and slid it down your arm.

“Not that I’m complaining, but why are you gettin’ undressed?”

“I’m too hot for clothes.”

Negan grinned. “You sure are.”

“No.That’s not what I mean.Meant?Mean?”

“How much did you have to drink?” With one deft movement, he unclasped your bra.

He made it seem so easy.You pouted, glaring down at your exposed tummy pensively.

“I should be able to do that. I’m the one with boobs!” You complained.

Negan chuckled a smooth melodic sound.His warm hands slipped the bra straps off of your shoulders, freeing your arms, exposing your breasts.

“Panties too.” You reminded.

The hint of a smile played around his lips as he slipped the waistband of your slightly skewed underpants off of your hips.He knelt down.Something occurred to you as you watched him slide the thin fabric to your ankles.

“How come you’re home so early?”

“I’d rather not talk about it.” His index finger tapped the top of your foot. “Lift.”

You leaned forward to sturdy yourself, hanging onto his leather clad shoulder as you raised your foot.

Negan unhooked your underpants from around one ankle, guided your foot back to the floor, and repeated the process with your left foot.

“Are you trying to start a mutiny of the wives or did you get bored enough in there to start shit for no reason?”

Knowing eyes looked up at you.

“I didn’t start it! Sherri did!”

“Did she now?”

“She could start an argument in an empty house.”

“You act pretty high and mighty for someone who sucks the same cock we do.” Negan quoted watching for your reaction.

“Well she does! She was being a-a-a judgey mcjudgerson!”

“A what?”

“A jerk.” You amended.

“Sherri is always “a jerk”.What was different about today?”

You frowned. “The vodka?”

“No.” He replied standing slowly back up.

“...the me?” You mumbled guiltily.

Negan cupped his hand behind his ear gazing at you expectantly.

“Me, I was different, because I got mad.”

“Mhmm.”

“I was angry so I egged her on.”

“That’s not the Y/n I know.” He admonished, taking your chin in his hand.

He tilted your face up and looked you in the eye.

“She said somethin’ mean.”

His brow furrowed. “Mean?”

“We were playing Never have I ever...”

“Mhmm...”

“And Amber said ‘Never have I ever wanted to sleep with Simon.’ Obviously I took a shot.” You recognized the spark of jealousy in his eyes.

“It’s the way the game works!”You defended. “Then Sherri said “Simon?” And I was like 'What’re you surprised?' And she said 'Not even a little.'”

Negan took a deep angry breath.

You jumped back into your case to keep him from yelling at you.

“It was the way she said it.” You emphasized.”Like like I was dirty like I was below her.”

The corner of his lip pulled back in a near snarl.

You could already see how his needless anger would play out.

“And not just me.”You back tracked, “Tanya and Frankie too! I mean how can you blame me?Honestly, she freaking implied that we were sluts or whores or-or worse just cause we’re married to you.She forgets that we’re equals and talks down to us. What was I supposed to do, let her??No no no.”

Negan ran a hand through his hair.His anger had gone down from a boil to a simmer.He struggled to adjust.

“Ugh, I knew it!You’re stuck on the Simon part.You just don’t get it.”

“You were fightin’ over another man! How the hell do you think that makes me feel?”

“It wasn’t about Simon.I was giving you context so you would know how I went from putting up with her to wanting to kick her ass.” You explained, annoyed with his one track mind.

“What the fuck is so great about that scumbag anyway? What’s got y’all so obsessed?”

You sighed loudly.

“Nobody is obsessed! Amber was making fun, cause she thinks he’s ugly.”

“At least one of my wives is smart.”

You rankled at the bitterness in his voice.

“Well I can’t tell you why Tanya and Frankie wanted to sleep with Simon! I can only tell you why I did!”

“Why did you?” He wore a guarded expression.

You rolled your eyes.

“Mostly to piss you off. He’s got the whole second man in charge thing going for him and that works for some people, but for me, it was about how mad I was at you.”

Negan blinked, processing your words.

“You wanting to sleep with Simon was about Me?”

“That’s ... one hell of an over simplification, but yes. It was.You acted like a total dickwad from the second we met to the night I almost slept with him.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but you put your finger to his lips in a shushing gesture.

“Yes, me wanting to sleep with Simon was about you.Ninety-five percent of the time I was talking to him, I thought of you.”

“And the other five percent?”

“You gotta be kidding me! Is ninety-five not enough?”

“Why wasn’t it a hundred percent of the time?"

“I hadn’t had sex in years!”

“Hmm...”

You interrupted his thinking with a slow languid kiss. He kissed you back savoring your affection.

“I don’t like drama,Doll.I’ll forgive you this time.You girls got sauced after all, but don’t you go making trouble again.”

“What about Sherri?”

“Collateral damage.”

You exhaled sharply at the sympathy in his voice.

“Dwight needed to learn his place and the only way to do that without cracking open skulls was to threaten him with Lucille.”His thumb stroked over your jaw lightly.

“That doesn’t make a lick of sense.”

“Sherri offered herself up in exchange for his life.That just so happened to fit my agenda.So, ‘mean’ though she may be she was telling the truth.” Negan looked down and away for a minute.The deceptively charismatic smirk he wore like armor returned to its place.

“Not for nothin’ but not one of us became a wife because we were lookin’ to put our feet up, except for Frankie.” You pointed out.

“Amber went through some really bad shit.She feels indebted to you for saving her.Tanya’s mom was sick, in a lot of pain, and needed morphine.We both know how I ended up here-“

“Sherri doesn’t know that.” He interrupted.

“That’s my point, she shouldn’t talk about what she doesn’t know.Talk shit.Get hit.Just sayin’.”

“You are impossible...Why don’t you go on and get that gorgeous bottom of yours in the shower? It’ll help you cool down.” He suggested.

“Won’t you come with me? You tried, entwining your fingers with his.

He brought your hand to his lips and pressed a small regretful kiss to it.

Negan’s sigh was bone weary.

“I’d love to, Darlin’ ,but Daddy’s got work to do.” He waggled his eyebrows at you.

Your face heated at the memory of your sarcastic remark.

“It was a joke.” You groaned.

“Not to me. I think Daddy might be my favorite nick name yet.” He taunted, watching you saunter to the bathroom to start your shower.

You heard his easy laughter receding as he left you to your own devices.

Not far from The Sanctuary, a militia made up of rebel misfits made their final preparations to dethrone the self-professed king.

Once upon a pre-apocalypse time, Rick Grimes thought of himself as a simple man.There was right and there was wrong,very seldom was there anything in between.When there was, it simply meant the situation needed resolving. Once resolved it would fall into one of those two basic categories and all was well with his world again.

However, that was before the apocalypse. Before his family’s survival twisted his morality into something neither black nor white, but a stormy weather grey. The many traumatic situations, trials and tribulations he and his chosen family had faced, forced his grey morality to stain a little darker, but no crisis had pushed him so close to the edge as Negan. Abraham and Glenn, along with so many others had lost theirs lives to the violent sociopath and his merry band of murders.He’d sworn vengeance on their oppressor.Now that vengeance was finally coming to fruition.

“...Those people who use, take, and kill, to carve out the world and make it their’s and their’s alone, We end them...” His soulful blue eyes took a moment to gaze meaningfully into the face of each member of his ragtag army.

“There’s only one person that has to die tonight”His gruff voice assured them, “and I will kill him myself.”

He could see his words already taking affect, giving their anger the justification of righteousness and their thirst for savior blood conviction.Rick kept watching, patiently as Ezekiel roused them with brotherhood and as Maggie Rhee gave them hope.Unlike Negan, it gave him no pleasure to manipulate minds like this.The ends he reminded his conscience would justify the means.

For the greater good!

His inner voice declared.He accepted the words as gospel.

The caravan barreled through the fences taking the few saviors, who weren’t out checking the far perimeter, by surprise. Four shots were fired into the air breaking up an impromptu meeting Negan was having with Hilltop’s incompetent leader.He and his men strolled out onto the platform to gauge the situation.

“Well I’m sorry” Negan apologized insincerity in his voice. “I was in a meetin’’.”

Upon laying eyes on Gregory, Rick Grimes snorted.

“Sorry to interrupt.”

Negan’s sharp eyes roved over the caravan of misfit warriors, taking in the army, the battle ready vehicles, their many firearms. All of this would not have given him pause, except for one thing, the determination and fury on their faces.

“Now, I don’t see a reason why we should have us a shoot out,” He snarked, wondering anxiously if you were at the window of his bedroom right now.

Hoping you had heard the warning shots and taken cover, he resumed his performance.

“I have to look out for the safety of my people. I can’t let myself get wrapped up in playing cops and robbers just because you want to find out if my dick is really bigger than yours.” He paused like a comedian building suspense before a punchline, “It is.”

He smiled confidently. “We all know it.”

“This isn’t a game.” Rick Grimes intoned, his solemn countenance causing Simon to mutter an epithet under his breath. “This is a reckoning and your time has come.”

The shoot out that followed was a chaos of ricochetting bullets, screams of pain, and shouted orders. Minutes passed like seconds. Simon called out to Negan, they had reinforcements coming.

As it turned out, so did Rick Grimes.Of all the surprises Negan imagined the colonies to have under their sleeves, not being able to count on his silver tongue to buy time or get him out of such an impossible bitch of a situation wasn’t one, the colonies using the entirety of their separate communities, young and old, wasn’t one, and a heard of the dead filtering into his God damn Sanctuary sure as fuck wasn’t one.

Rick the Prick’s first spray of bullets missed Negan by a second.He dove out of the way and down a flight of stairs. When he reached the bottom he was a little worse for the wear, but his body was still in one piece.He was also resourceful enough to pick up the gun of a fallen Savior and stay out of the crosshairs for a bit.

His brain went into survival mode, pushing him to shoot back, pulling him back behind the dumpster before he could get himself shot. Negan’s gun ran out of bullets all too soon.

“Sonuvabitch!” He ground out, running to the nearest port in the shit storm, a rusty old trailer.

His heart beat so damn loud, he’d forgotten how terrifying a herd could be when you had nothing, but your will to live and your flight response to get you out of it.He heard glass breaking.

Y/n

His pulse jumped in his throat.Of all the days for you to drink you had to choose today.He couldn’t bear the thought of them getting to you.They could hate him all they all wanted, he’d done his share of fucked up shit. He deserved it. What he felt he didn’t deserve was for the consequences of his actions to effect you.

Another spine chilling thought circled in his brain.

“Everyone of you go to your rooms!!”

Had he doomed you all? Like he’d doomed her? A memory of bright blue eyes and a very expressive face loomed over him ominously.

Different time.Different situation.Different woman.He told himself pushing her memory away, down deep in the coffin shaped box where he kept his grief.

A newer memory arose unbidden, He took your hand in his, kissed it softly, and looked into your eyes.All trace of bravado and falsehood dissipated as he let you see him. The real Negan and the effect one night with you’d had on him.

"Can I trust you, Y/n?”

“Yes, you can.”You laced your fingers between his.

“How can I be sure you won’t think my love for you is a weakness?”He watched your face cautiously.

“You aren’t weak.Neither am I.We have both put survival above everything else.”

You were resourceful.You were unbelievably resilient. Negan resolved to trust you to keep yourself alive.At least until he could reach you.

The trailer door blew wide open.Negan fisted the black material attached to whatever dickhead had been dumb enough to enter his refuge and pulled the door shut. The wide doe eyes of Alexandria’s creepy bald clergyman found his face in the dark.

The firing of live ammunition sounded from somewhere below you. In nothing, but a bra and a fresh pair of panties you ran to the wall of windows.Simon and a few of the saviors had taken cover and were taking their best shots at hitting something other than the corrugated steel the invaders were using as shields.Your mind went into over drive.You couldn’t see Negan out there.No sign of his black leather clad back anywhere.At least you knew he was alive.He wasn’t lying on the ground or you’d surely have seen him. A borage of bullets hit some of the panes of glass below.You dove to the ground and began crawling behind the nearest piece of furniture you could.Unfortunately, the closest was a sofa.Cushions and plywood wouldn’t be enough to keep you safe.You lay as flat against the floor as you could as the gunfire reached your floor.The cacophony out there went from loud to ear splitting within seconds.

A sharp angry pain caused you to cry out, but you weren’t willing to risk getting shot again to check the wound.Soon afterwards the shooting died down.They’re running out of ammo, you thought.They must need to make every bullet count.Your heart felt so heavy.Please Lord keep him safe.You prayed.You knew he wasn’t perfect by any means nor was he innocent, but you loved him.You couldn’t fathom a world without him.A moment of quiet passed as you reflected on your husbands many sins.You found yourself struggling to maintain your composure.You wanted so badly to fall apart, but there wasn’t time for that.There was no doubt in your mind that he would eventually come for you, but you couldn’t stay here and wait.It wasn’t safe.

You got onto your hands and knees and clambered to the closet.You cursed Negan’s stupid wives club bullshit for robbing you of your jeans.You only owned two outfits.A black dress with spaghetti straps or a white grass stained sundress.You silently fumed as you pulled the dress on.You owned exactly one pair of shoes these days and they were a pair of black flats, not made for trekking through the forest. You decided to take a pair of socks and Negan’s red kerchief from his night stand.The long tube socks you used to stifle the bleeding of your wound.You tied the kerchief around your wrist. As you left your bedroom behind, you quickly began assessing the damage.You found the parlor doors were wide open. Sherri was long gone, but Tanya and Frankie seemed to be waiting around for...something.

“He isn’t coming.” The statement left your mouth reluctantly.

You knew deep inside that he would come back, eventually. However, seeing the girls fall apart spurred you to action. “We have to go.”

“We can’t leave! We won’t make it!” Tanya cried, her eyes frantic.

“We will! We can!” They looked unconvinced.

“I’ve led a group before.” You sighed exasperated with their dithering.

Frankie’s eyes darted from the room you had just left to the parlor doors.

They’ll probably drag us out of here if we stay.” She said slowly to Tanya, “and who knows what else they’ll do to us.” She swallowed nervously.

“She’s right.” You told Tanya.��We don’t know who or what we’re dealing with here and we shouldn’t stick around to find out.”

Tanya nodded slowly accepting the dire straits you were in.Trying to ignore the fear and anxiety she was radiating, you lead them to the doors.The empty hallway was not at all inviting, but you had no choice except to slip quietly into it.Frankie and Tanya followed.There was shouting and shooting in the distance.The further you walked the closer the noises sounded.You peaked around the first corner.

An arrow whizzed toward you.You ducked back behind the wall, your breathing sharp and quick with shock.You stayed as still as possible, waiting for another arrow to come, but none did. Instead there were heavy angry footsteps.The face of a man appeared, haggard sweaty and holding a cross bow in front of him.Tanya and Frankie yelped holding each other tight.

“Weapons?” He demanded.

“W-we don’t have any.” Frankie stuttered.

“Bullshit!” He barked and demanded you put your hands up.

You complied, more for the good of the wives than for your own.Stout fingers and a large palm invasively explored any place you might be hiding a gun or knife.

“Get on the ground.”He commanded and moved on to check Frankie, then Tanya.

“Who are you?” He asked suspiciously.

“We’re...wives” Tanya sniffed between sobs.“Negan’s wives.”

He grunted more to himself than to you.Static crackled from the walkie on his belt.

“Darryl, You find anything?”

“I found the wives,”He sounded disappointed. “They’re unarmed."

“Go ahead and bring ‘em with you.”A deep voice intoned.

“Sure.”Darryl replied.

“Anyone else back there?” He nodded toward the direction you came from.

“No.” You stated evenly.

“Get up.” He grabbed onto Frankie’s arm and pushed her ahead of him.

“Ladies first.” He mocked, making you go back the way you came.

Daryl stopped at every room.Checked every space a person could possibly hide.When you got back to the parlor, he tore the place apart looking for any one hidden. He found no one. He checked the other rooms found them empty and called to someone on the walkie.

“All clear.” He informed him.

“Good.Meet us on the first floor.”

#negan x plus sized reader #jeffrey dean morgan x reader #negan #negan x reader #the walking dead #jeffrey dean morgan #plus sized reader

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