#(not until after you take santiago at LEAST) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

darlingdekarios · 10 months

Text

bending to the honeysuckles.

rating: explicit. 18+ only. length: 17,216 content: William "Ironhead" Miller x f!reader, reader has a prior drug addiction, drug addiction recovery, drug rehab, mentions of past abuse in a relationship, pining, fluff, Will is a simp, smut [oral, unprotected p in v]

while you insist you don't want a relationship, Will Miller falls for you like it's his destiny to do so. he's willing to meet you where you are while he waits for you to let him love you.

Life had been hell for Frankie Morales since he’d returned from Colombia. While he was able to keep decent control of himself for the first couple of weeks, the things he’d done caught up to him – they always did. He’d retreated into himself, away from his friends and into the confines of his house, numbing his feelings with whatever he could. At first, it was several beers every day, and when that wasn’t enough it was liquor. When the liquor wasn’t enough, he’d remembered what could truly help him – cocaine – and it had all just sort of spiraled from there.

Three months after his return home Frankie staggered into his birthday dinner with dilated pupils, a running nose and an air of confidence only to be met with an intervention from Pope, Benny, and Ironhead. The reminder of how pathetically few people cared about him stung initially, but he quickly remembered he deserved even less than that. He found himself in a rehabilitation program then, spending the next 90-days of his life with far-too-nice people trying to help him get his shit together.

As he expected, Santiago had taken up residence in his spare bedroom in Frankie’s absence, deciding to stick around in the states to ensure his best friend actually recovered this time, found a career for himself, and didn’t lose his house. He’d started attending a group session for recovering cocaine addicts the same week, and that was where he’d met you.

You were at least a decade younger, quiet until you were directly spoken to, and sarcastic and quick when it was your turn to talk. The message deciphered from your introduction of yourself was that you had just moved to take over your grandfather’s company, you were coming up on six years of sobriety, and you did not like to be around people. His second meeting, a week later and your six months of sobriety, you’d approached him at the end of the meeting to propose being his sponsor.

The two of you had been friends since. Wednesday nights you met for dinner before you made your way to group together, and Sunday nights you had a quick phone call to check-in with one another. As much as it helped Frankie to have someone outside of the Delta Force to understand his situation – that he trusted to understand him – it helped you just the same. You had moved to the area a month ago and finding people tolerable was difficult. He quickly became your closest friend, and he was more than happy to introduce you to the other people in his life.

When Will had first suggested coming along to group with Frankie to offer some support, it was a surprise when the older man agreed and mentioned you immediately, almost proud to have someone to introduce to the man he looked up to so much. You’d agreed it was fine to skip dinner that week so Frankie could come along with Will, almost relieved for the extra time alone between work and group. It gave you a chance to shower and change into something a little better than your pink work overalls, ready to meet the first additional person in Frankie’s life.

Frankie walked in much later than he normally would, and while you would normally jokingly call to him from across the room for cutting it close, you lost whatever wit you’d planned on using when your eyes landed on the gorgeous blonde following behind your friend. When Frankie spotted you he raised a hand to wave, which you returned feebly, eyes a little too focused on the newcomer.

“We’re cutting it close, I know,” Frankie breathed when he approached you, your senses suddenly returning and forcing you to your feet in politeness. “This is Will. Will, this is my friend I’ve been telling you about.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you were late for your own birth, Frankie,” you greeted him with a quick hug, fixing your eyes on Will with a smile as you mentally swooned under the gaze of his blue eyes. “Nice to meet you, Will.”

William Miller did not get distracted.

When he had a responsibility – a job to complete – Will was laser-focused, in-control, and driven. Whether he was in an active combat zone or giving a speech to a group of veterans trying to rejoin society, he was always able to stay on the task at hand until he’d completed it – until he’d excelled at it. Tonight, his task was to support his friend, his brother, Frankie – and tonight was the first time in months he felt he’d truly failed at his task.

He couldn’t pull his attention away from you for the next two hours. No matter who was talking, even Frankie, Will found his eyes glancing to you, eager to see your reactions and expressions and your body language. On one particularly long-winded monologue from a woman about how she had just tried cocaine for fun, and it ended up ruining her marriage (she cheated on her husband, that’s what really ruined the marriage), you rolled your eyes in Will’s direction while mouthing:

“Are you having fun yet?” Will nearly laughed at the question but opted to respond with a much more situationally appropriate light smile and subtle thumbs up. Your eyes flashed with mischief as you mouthed again. “Liar.”

He couldn’t get you out of his head after that meeting and found himself asking Frankie if he could go with him again the next week, and again, and soon enough he was a regular supporter of the meeting, showing up early to set up snacks and coffee and keeping track of the sign-in sheet. Each time he found himself falling more and more into whatever trap you’d seemingly laid out just for him, and even though he really didn’t get the chance to talk with you much, his interest was sparked enough to want to get to know you more. It was after the fourth meeting he’d joined that he lingered in the parking lot with you even after Frankie had left.

That was the night he’d begun to understand the depth of his fascination with you. Sitting in his trunk bed drinking bottles of water Will permanently kept in his backseat he marveled in you as you opened up to him and showed him who you were…at least as much as you were willing to share. As much as he hung on your every word, you did the same for him, unable to look away from his face as he spoke and enamored by the things he told you about himself.

“I like hanging out in parking lots with you, Will Miller,” you’d complimented, eyes sparkling under the full moon’s light. “You’re good company.”

“Yeah, we should do it again sometime,” came his reply before he could stop it. Reaching to scratch the back of his neck, he opted to continue – there was no going back now. “Maybe the parking lot of a restaurant…after dinner?”

You felt your cheeks burn immediately and, even more embarrassing, the smile that spread across your face like the sun breaking through clouds on a stormy day. All too soon, though, the clouds returned, the melancholy filling your voice. “I’d love to say yes but I…can’t. I’m not looking for anything serious right now with…well, everything. And I don’t want to give you the wrong idea.”

While it wasn’t the reason you’d given, on your drive home you had to think about the fact that Will Miller deserved far more than a recovering addict who was just figuring out how to really take care of herself. If you had only seen his thoughts on his own drive, about how long he’d wait until you were ready, you may have turned around and given into him.

Things settled a bit over the coming weeks. You offered Frankie a job helping you out with jarring the honey and making local deliveries for you, which he’d been happy to accept in the meantime until he could get his license back. It was nice to have him around – he was often the one to remind you to take a moment to hydrate, but he never bothered you while you worked. He even took it upon himself to make some minor repairs to your barn in some of his spare time. Another month had passed faster than you could believe, the time filled with settling into your business and spending time with Frankie and his best friend, Santiago.

Frankie had offered many times – at least once per week – for you to join them for drinks, or dinner, or at the beach. You’d refused every offer, unwilling to face Will again for fear of your wavering resolve. But this week, a Friday, it was different when Frankie asked you to join them before he headed out in the morning to spend his day making deliveries. The loneliness was finally catching up to you, and you figured some time out with other people would serve you well. Plus, despite the bickering you and Santi often found yourselves in, you knew Frankie surrounded himself with good people, and you could trust spending time with them. You agreed to let him pick you up at 7:30, and he agreed with a nod and a smile. Even if you had a miserable time, at least going would ensure Frankie’s happiness for the night.

By the time Frankie’s shitty truck had pulled into the driveway of the old farmhouse you now found yourself living in, you were moments away from sending a text that said you’d changed your mind, the nerves of your horrible day making you dread an unfamiliar place. As you pulled a jacket on and locked the door behind you a sigh released from your lips before you began to make your way to him. While you were finalizing your mental argument about whether it was too late to cancel you saw Frankie’s face peering out of the driver’s side window, an earnest smile on his lips. He was unrelentingly kind and made the decision you faced easy – there was no way you could cancel on Frankie Morales and sleep at night.

“Hiya, Crankie,” you greeted as you climbed into the front seat, rolling the window down before you’d buckled yourself in. Your use of the nickname you’d bestowed upon Frankie made the man shake his head, a quiet laugh sounding as he began the drive.

“Hi, abejita,” came his usual reply, glancing out of the corner of his eye to take in more of your expression. You’d obviously tried to get in the mood to go out, but the tired expression was one Frankie recognized – you probably just wanted to be alone tonight, and yet you were still seated next to him. “Didn’t sleep well last night?”

Of course he knew – he always did. The two of you had spent the last few months bonding over a similar addiction background, and it was nice to have someone that truly understood you. There were no niceties with you and Frankie, and it was the reason the two of you had become such close friends.

“Oh, you know me, Francisco…’I’ll sleep when I’m dead,’ yada yada yad,” you turned your head toward him, offering a falsely reassuring smile. “What’s your excuse? I swear there’s at least five more greys in your hair.”

“I only counted three this morning,” he matched your taunting, chuckling softly at your joking.

“Yeah, well, I’ve told you that you need glasses, and this just proves my point,” you joked, rolling your head back the other way to rest it on the cool glass of the window. “I probably shouldn’t even let you drive me around…talk about self-destructive behaviors.”

He laughed again and the comfortable silence set in, the rest of the drive to he and his friends’ chosen bar passing with light conversation about your days, and both of you agreeing to keep one another to the one drink maximum you’d set. Frankie thanked you for deciding to come with him, and it was a sincere show of appreciation – having someone unbiased and understanding of his situation there to support his recovery was important. And, truthfully – he was helping yours just as much.

Plus, there was the promise of seeing Will again. While it was annoying, it was also impossible to admit that the mere thought of seeing his pale blue eyes again in the flesh caused your stomach to fill with butterflies. It was ridiculous – you’d meant what you said when he’d asked you out a month ago, you didn’t want to pursue anyone or be pursued right now. That didn’t stop you from thinking about his sparkling blue eyes, or the lines of his smile, or how he’d looked at you like you were the only thing he wanted to look at. You wanted to see him, and could only hope, maybe cruelly, that he wanted to see you as well.

“What are you over there thinking about, abejita?” Frankie pulled you back to reality with a quiet voice as you pulled into the bar parking lot, glancing over at you briefly. “You didn’t complain about my driving at all.”

You smiled and shook your head, unwilling to admit to Frankie you’d been thinking about one of his best friends – one of his brothers. The question of whether Will had told them about asking you out flashed through your mind, and fortunately Frankie shifting his truck into park gave you a feasible reason to not answer his questioning. “Let’s go do this. And remember, if someone offers you cocaine in the bathroom…just say no.”

Frankie laughed in bewilderment nearly the entire way into the bar, a bright smile still spread across his face when the two of you made your way through the door. The sounds of Metallica from the jukebox confirmed Santiago was there before your eyes even landed on the mess of grey and black atop his head, drifting over to the golden locks of Benny Miller with his girlfriend sat beside him. As you walked toward their table you released a sigh of relief, though at the same time your stomach knotted in disappointment – no Will.

After your hellos and introduction to Benny’s girlfriend, Frankie excused himself to grab both of you a soda from the bar to start with – it was refreshing to see that this group didn’t even bat an eye at the two of you not ordering alcohol, and you had to mentally commend Frankie for his taste in company. Leaning on the counter height table with an elbow you met Santiago’s lingering gaze.

“You better not be standing to do what I think you’re going to do,” he warned, his words met with a mischievous smile from you. His arms crossed over his chest, eyes narrowing at your body language.

“Oh, I’m definitely standing to do what you think I’m going to do,” you taunted, sticking out your leg slightly to block him into the booth. “And you are just going to have to deal with it, Santiago.”

His hand twitched toward the glass of dark liquid in front of him, taking a sip as his eyes stayed on yours. You offered another smile, lazily drumming your fingernails on the table beneath you. Benny’s voice interrupted the stare down, both of you turning to look at him. “I’m sorry, what is happening here?”

“I refuse to subject the people of this bar to Santiago’s Greatest Hits playlist all night. I’m picking the next song,” you replied, offering another smile to the man you were blocking in the booth. Benny was the first laugh you heard, but from behind you another laugh rumbled – and Frankie still hadn’t returned from the bar.

“Nice to see someone keeping Pope in his place,” the older Miller brother commented from behind you, immediately sending a chill up your spine and a rush of heat to your cheeks. Forgetting to leave your leg planted you turned to greet him with a smile, eyes brighter than they should be for someone who’d turned him down a month earlier. He didn’t care to hide the smile he offered you back. “Sorry I’m late. Got a little hung up at work, hope I didn’t miss anything.”

Your willingness to spar faltered, and all you could manage under his gaze was a nod, your bottom lip pulling between your teeth. He turned to greet Benny, who had stood, with a hug before saying a quick hello to Danielle and offering her a gentle hug. Even Santiago got a quick version of a hug. You tried to ignore the jealousy that twisted your stomach.

“You were just about to miss the musical showdown of the century,” Benny remarked, planting himself back into the booth with an arm around Dani’s shoulders. “Someone is finally standing up to Santiago’s musical monopoly.”

“Just because you people don’t know how to appreciate the American classics,” Santiago began, ready to fling himself into a grandiose monologue before Benny beat you to the punch, entering an argument with the older man about the definition of “classics”. You took that as your sign to exit to the juke box, unnoticed by Santi, but not unnoticed altogether – William had followed closely behind you.

“Are you my escort for the evening, Mr. Miller?” you questioned, attempting a playful tone to cover the nerves you felt around him. “I don’t think I’d get lost on the way to show up Santiago. There’s too much at stake.”

Another laugh rumbled in his chest – it was nice to make someone laugh as much as you made him. “The buttons on that old thing stick sometimes, and I wanna make sure you can use it.”

You couldn’t help but smile a little slowing down your steps to join at his side and glancing up at him as you walked. He had to mentally remind himself not to wrap an arm around you, no matter how badly he wanted to. “You know, helping me figure out the machine makes you an accomplice. I wonder how Santiago will feel about your mutiny.”

“Probably about the same way he feels about most things.”

“Forlorn and personally affronted?”

He laughed again in response, siding up to the juke box with you. He allowed you a moment to get your bearings on the machine, and though you likely quickly realized his white lie about the buttons sticking, you didn’t call him on it. “I was happy when Fish said you were coming out,” he admitted, leaning on the machine on his side next to you. When you broke concentration to meet his gaze briefly, he had to remind himself to breathe.

“I almost cancelled. Had a bad day at work and didn’t want to look miserable and stupid,” you replied with a shrug, returning your focus to the juke box and flipping through albums. What Will wanted to do was sit down somewhere quiet with you and talk to you about your day, to listen to whatever complaints you wanted to hurl to a listening ear – but it wasn’t the time or place. He lowered his voice as Santiago’s previous choice finished up.

“Miserable may be one of the last words I’d use to describe how you look,” he drawled, removing his appreciative glance from you to focus on what album you’d sought out. He felt you glance upward at him and could swear he heard the quick catch of your breath.

“You’re very distracting,” you joked, eager to break this tension. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth slightly in an attempt to stifle the smile that was threatening to break under his attention, but it was to no avail – your burning cheeks gave away the fluttering in your stomach enough. “It’s impossible to put Santiago to shame when I can’t focus on this very important song decision.”

He hummed in understanding, nodding his head as he fixed his eyes on you again. Gazing up into the blue pools that waited expectantly you were met with a slightly raised eyebrow. It was infuriating how he managed to look effortlessly flawless. “Should I go back to the table and leave you to it, then?”

“No,” came an embarrassingly immediate reply. “No, just…shut up. Stand there and…keep…looking like a fucking magazine cover, but shut up.”

Will smiled first, a rumbling laughter sounding in his chest. It was impossible not to smile at the laugh you’d pulled from him, eyes taking in the lines of his smile at the corners of his mouth and own eyes. You felt the pull at your heart and had to swallow down the feelings building in your chest, forcing yourself to look back at the juke box – though the smile he’d earned lingered as well. He wanted to reach out to touch you in the short summer dress you’d worn, to hold you closer to him with a hand on your hip – but it wasn’t his place to do so.

Once you’d queued up your song choice you made your way back to the table with Will, glad to see Frankie had returned with a lemonade for you. When you slid into the booth you were delighted to have Will slide up next to you, the warmth continuing to pool from him. As he moved in a little closer, perhaps, than he needed to your song choice began to play over the speakers.

“No way she’s embarrassing you with Donovan right now, Pope!” Benny called, his laughter loud over the music. You smiled a victorious smile across the table at him, eyes bright now that you had confirmation at least one other person at the table agreed with you.

“She thought really hard about her decision,” Will added, taking a drink of the bottled beer sat in front of him. You nudged him with your elbow lightly adding in a playful eye roll.

“I took my duty serious,” you explained before turning your attention back to Benny. “At least someone in this group has good taste. Sometimes Frankie’s music is shit, too.”

“Hey now,” the named man intervened, offering a raspy laugh at your call-out.

“You could try to tell me I’m wrong, but you haven’t reached six months of sobriety yet and your opinions are, understandably, questionable,” you joked, giving him a playful nudge to communicate you were joking if it wasn’t clear.

“So, you have Frankie working down at the…is it called a bee farm?” Benny questioned, pulling Dani in closer to plant a kiss to the top of her head. In the far end of the booth Santiago rolled his eyes, scoffing out a laugh as Frankie nodded.

“Yeah, I took over the business…about five months ago now. It was my grandfather’s, and he passed away,” you explained, taking a drink of your lemonade and wishing you’d had Frankie get you something stronger to get you through the questioning. “I was looking to move, anyway so it…kind of worked out, though I’m not sure my grandpa would appreciate that phrasing.”

Will loved how easy it was for you to find your place in the group.

“Where’d you move from?” Dani questioned, sipping on her hard seltzer to savor it. “I don’t hear an accent, really.”

“Middle of nowhere Montana,” you answered, anticipating the next question. Might as well answer it before someone asked. “I’d been in a relationship but…well, it wasn’t a good one. I left him earlier this year and ended up in a rehab program for cocaine addiction. When I got out…I had a couple of months in sanctioned housing, but I needed a change of scenery. It wasn’t long after that the family lawyer called to say the farm and business were passed to me in the will.”

Will caught the way you chose your words carefully as you spoke about your relationship, noticing how your voice had a slight shake to them. The possibilities of your cryptic words tore into him, festering in quiet anger as he ran through what that could mean. It was possible you’d simply been incompatible, perhaps fighting frequently. It was possible he’d broken your heart by being unfaithful. Or, and Will seriously hoped this wasn’t the case, it was possible your ex had been abusive toward you. The thought made him dig his fingers into the table’s edge.

As he allowed the thoughts to consume him for longer than he’d intended the conversation carried on, Benny beginning to understand why his friends had spent the last few weeks talking up this woman. His thoughts were broken by Santiago slapping his fist to the table quickly.

“Let’s play a round of darts. Winner picks the next five songs. Loser deals with it,” he offered, reaching upward to run his fingers through his hair. With a shrug you finished your lemonade, offering a mischievous smile once again.

“Let me drag up a chair for you to sit in while we play so your knees don’t give out with all that standing, peepaw,” you joked, pulling a round of laughter from everyone at the table except for Santiago, of course, and none louder than Will. The latter took his cue to stand and let you make your way across the bar with Santiago, bickering back and forth as you went. His gaze lingered far too long to go unnoticed.

“I know our mom taught us that it’s rude to stare, Will,” Benny chimed in first, throwing back the remainder of the whiskey in his glass. Will returned his attention to the men and woman still at the table, reaching to scratch the back of his head as he searched for an answer.

“Just trying to hear her give Santiago a piece of her mind,” he attempted a cover, reaching again for his beer and swallowing a large drink. He immediately felt the familiar twist of guilt knot his stomach for his white lie.

“Bullshit,” came Frankie’s retort, a scoffed laugh pulled from his chest. Admirably, only a water sat in front of him still. Benny nodded his head in agreement, and even Danielle raised her eyebrow at the blonde man’s lie.

“You’re into her,” Benny concluded, setting his empty glass on the table. There was no point in trying to cover himself, and even if there was…it wasn’t in his nature to lie to his family.

“I’ve been into her since I met her,” Will conceded, directing another longing gaze in your direction. You stood with your arms crossed, the smirk on your lips evident even from the side as you watched Santiago struggle to take the perfect aim – his eyes weren’t what they used to be. He saw your mouth move and the glare Pope shot your way, and he wished he could hear what you’d chosen to taunt him with. “I asked her to dinner. A month ago,” he began, taking another drink. “Said she’d love to say yes, but turned me down anyway. Said she didn’t want anything serious right now.”

The genuine disappointment in his eyes had Frankie and Benny sharing a look – it had been a long time since Will Miller had acted so bent out of shape over a woman.

“It’s a recovery thing,” Frankie offered some comfort, reaching to pat his back carefully. “She’s afraid if she doesn’t get far enough and the two of you don’t make it, the disappointment will make her relapse. At least…that’s what I’d think.”

“You should have seen her face when she realized you were behind her,” Benny added. “That’s not a woman who wants to turn you down.”

“I’m going to wait for her until she’s ready,” Will sighed, pulling his eyes away from you to look at his brother. “I don’t care if that sounds stupid, or desperate. I’m gonna wait.”

On the other side of the bar, you’d tied with Santiago and split the next five song choices – two from you, one decided together, and two from him. While he made his individual choices after you, you made your way to the bar to order yourself another lemonade to take back to the table. It was while you stood there waiting that a man decided to bother you, standing far too close and making incredibly lewd offers that no one wanted to hear from a stranger.

“Why don’t you come on back to my table with me and my friends? We’ll show ya a nice time, darlin’,” he drawled, moving closer to run a hand down your arm. “Pretty thing like you needs something stronger than a lemonade, and a strong man to show you a good time.”

“Thanks, but no thanks,” you replied, taking a step back which he chased with a step forward.

“’fraid I don’t take no for an answer, little lady,” he retorted, reaching to grab your arm and pull you closer to him. “You won’t regret it when I have you in my bed later, I can promise you that.”

A large, flattened hand on the back of the man’s neck cut his sentence off before more vulgarities could come through his lips. From behind the man, William Miller kept his icy gaze on your face, searching for any sign of true distress. When he saw the slight quiver to your lip his grasp on the man noticeably tightened, fingers digging into the sides of his neck.

“Let go of her arm,” he ordered, his tone free of any room for argument. It was a tone you’d not heard yet from him, and one you felt bad for anyone that was on the receiving end. The man’s sweaty hand released your arm, the red mark from his tight hold prompting Will’s jaw to tick briefly, a deep breath releasing from flared nostrils. “I should kick your ass for that, but that would ruin our night. Instead, I’m going to give you the opportunity to apologize.”

His eyes were burning into yours, yet he still didn’t miss the man’s attempt to turn and land a punch on his jaw. Catching the incoming fist with his free hand he pushed the man’s head downward, forcing it to the bar top as he twisted his arm behind him. Shifting his intense eyes to look at the back of the man’s head he shook his head, taking hold of the man’s hair to twist his face to look at you. If he was angry before, he was irate now – but he was controlling himself for your benefit. The man’s nose was unbroken but bleeding, and he spit blood onto the bar as he began to beg. “Look, man, we were just having fun…just let me go and she’s all yours.”

“It doesn’t look like she was having fun,” Will corrected, his grasp unfaltering. “I’ll give you one more chance to apologize to her.”

“I’m…I’m sorry, okay? I’ll leave, just let me go, man,” the man begged, breathing shaky and anxious as he feared the wrath of the man behind him. Will used his remaining grasp to lift the man straight upward again, pushing him toward the door with disdain.

“You should walk off this mood you’ve got yourself in,” Will began, moving to stand closer to you but keeping his eyes on the staggering man now. As the man made his way toward the door, Will left him with another parting threat. “If I see you back in this bar it won’t be good for you.”

Subconsciously William slipped an arm around your waist, turning you to face him as his other hand reached to lift your arm gently. The handprint around your wrist was now bruising lightly – barely there – but it was too visible for Will. His eyebrows pulled together in frustration, trying to steady his breathing and heart rate so he could ask you if you were okay. You beat him to the punch.

“Shhh,” you soothed, removing your arm from his hold and placing your hand on his bicep gently. Your eyes met his again, releasing a shaky breath once you realized how close he held you to him. Chests pressed firmly together you could feel the rapid beat to his heart and his fight for a normal breath – he needed to calm down, and Will being calm was far more important to you than a bruise. It’s not like this was the first one in your life. “I’m okay, Will. I’ve had worse from bumping into the coffee table, it’s alright. Breathe with me.”

Storms darkened his eyes, his hands grasping at your sides now as his chest gave a solid heave. Brushing your thumb against his arm you reached your other hand to rest against his cheek. You pulled him backward with you toward the quiet hallway by the bathrooms, offering a gentle smile once you were alone. Drawing in a deep breath as your eyes remained locked on his you gave his arm a light squeeze, encouraging him to pay attention to you – only you, not on following the guy outside and knocking his teeth out.

He could follow orders, though – that was something that no situation could turn off in him – and he soon began to mirror your deep breaths, hands still clutching you to him. By the time he’d released his fifth deep breath his mind was less clouded with anger, but that didn’t mean it was clear. If anything, it was even more clouded, but now it was clouded with you. You’d never been this close to him. He’d never felt the way his fingers could dig delicately into your skin. He’d never felt your chest pressed to his.

He’d never been only inches away from claiming your lips with his – and that’s exactly what he did as the adrenaline rushed through him. Grasping your hips tighter he anchored you against him, his lips soft and rough as you stood frozen, a quiet gasp slipping through your lips in shock. The quiet sound brought Will back to his senses, immediately pulling away from the kiss with a shock-laced look of horror on his face.

“I’m…so sorry,” he began, though he still hadn’t released his hold on your hips, his eyes transfixed on yours. The concern behind his eyes was unmistakable – he was terrified of how badly he’d just messed things up with you – and yet that didn’t stop his cheeks from darkening slightly, or his tongue from running over his bottom lip briefly for another desperate taste of you. “I shouldn’t have – mmph.”

Your hungry lips cut off his words quickly as you grasped at his bicep, the hand you held against his cheek sliding to the back of his head to hold him closer. He returned your kiss like it was something he’d been waiting to do for years, his hands sliding to rest on your lower back and pull you into him completely. A pleasant sigh slipped through your lips as he ran his tongue across the seam, granting him access to explore your mouth. When he’d kissed you breathless, he withdrew from your lips, his own curving into a smile as he bumped his nose against yours lightly. Leaning his forehead to rest against yours he took in a deep breath, savoring the moment he'd fantasized over for weeks.

“I still don’t want anything serious,” you whispered, eyebrows pulling together in frustration at so many things, none of which were Will’s fault, all of which fell on you and your past. ‘Live in the moment!’ a voice screamed in the back of your head, begging you to see that the man in front of you was a direct pathway to happiness. You’d silenced that optimistic part of you long ago. “I’m sorry I just…don’t. I can’t.”

“Sh,” he cooed, sliding one of his hands to rest on the top of your back to hold you closer. He bumped his nose against yours again lightly, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth before looking deep into your eyes. “I know. I don’t care.”

Your teeth bit into your bottom lip lightly, a sign you were nervous and uncertain. “It’s not fair to you.”

“I don’t care.”

“I can’t even promise…what this would look like, Will.”

He shushed you again, shaking his head before he rested his forehead against yours again. “I will take whatever you want to give me for as many days as you want to give it.”

He’d followed through on his word throughout the weeks that followed, thankful that he had turned out to be a very patient man. Even with the generally negative outlook on life you maintained, always finding a fault in every situation – you couldn’t find one with Will. Yes, it was adorable that he’d show up at the farm during lunch to see you, wanting nothing more than to simply see you in “work mode” and to kiss you as he ran a thumb across your cheek to wipe the dirt away.

Frankie didn’t mind at all that you’d started up this…whatever it was with Will. He enjoyed the fact that both of you were happy, and he wouldn’t complain about the lunches Will dropped off when he visited. Frankie wasn’t the only one in the group to know about the time you spent with Will, of course – Will didn’t believe in keeping secrets between the four of them.

You’d joined them for nights out a couple of times since but remained purely friendly with Will while in the view of others. The car rides home were when he would kiss you breathless in your driveway, holding you close, greedy for every moment you offered him. Things had never escalated past heavy kissing and touching, and that was comfortable – you still felt you could quit him any time you needed to, and it was safer that way.

It was Frankie that had asked you to take a Saturday off with him to spend time with them at the beach before the weather started cooling off a bit for the winter. You weren’t really one for the beach, not having lived anywhere near the ocean or going into the ocean much for most of your life, but Frankie’s pleading brown eyes won you over. It would be cruel to leave Dani alone with the men, anyway. When you’d walked onto the beach with Frankie that Saturday afternoon, Will thought his heart was going to burst from his chest. You and Frankie had elected to keep your presence a surprise, which worked in your favor as he smiled the brightest smile he’d offered you yet as you made your way over to their umbrellas, chairs and towels.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming,” he greeted, unable to help himself from hugging you. His voice was teasing as he continued. “You know I don’t like secrets.”

“Oh, well I’m full of ‘em,” you smiled, wrapping your arms around him and tilting your head to look into his face. “Like…I actually assassinated JFK, and I helped fake the moon landing. I admit it. All me.”

He smiled at your joke and allowed a soft laugh to leave his chest, shaking his head slightly as he released you before the hug lingered too long for your comfort. “I wish I’d known you were coming; I could’ve grabbed some lemonade for you. I’ve got water in the cooler, though, and I’ve always got a pack of those cashews that you like in in my truck.”

You nudged his arm lightly with your shoulder, cheeks turning red under his thoughtfulness and sweet intentions with you. Before you could thank him, Benny had joined up with you, picking you up in a crushing hug as Danielle said hello from behind. Will had never really envied his brother until he got to witness your effortless acceptance of him, and the way Benny could hug you however he wanted.

“Benny, Jesus, you’re going to crack one of my ribs, you behemoth,” you laughed, gasping for air through his hug as you attempted to wiggle free. Benny placed you gently back on the ground and offered a wide grin, immediately draping his shoulder back around Dani who rested her head on him gently. “Hope you guys don’t mind Frankie bringing me along. I couldn’t leave Dani alone around all you men all day.”

“And that is so appreciated,” the named woman replied, here signature sincere smile on her face. “I am going to work on catching up with Benny’s annoying natural tanning abilities, if you want to sit with me. You don’t seem much of a ‘get in the ocean’ kinda gal.”

You did sit on the beach for most of the day with the woman, getting to know one another more deeply, your conversations free of the hindrance of men being present as the group of four gallivanted about the shore and in the waves. Every so often, Benny would yell a quick “hi, baby!” from the water, causing Dani to smile, roll her eyes and wave, a small laugh falling from her lips. It was well past 4 p.m. and the seventh time he’d done it when she gave a different reply.

“He’s an idiot!” she yelled back, her voice full of laughter and love for the man she’d spent just less than a year with now. She quieted her voice back before she added to you. “I knew that when I agreed to date him, though. I can’t complain.”

“You’re perfect for one another,” you asserted, watching as Benny smiled and blew her a kiss before returning to the group. Your eyes wandered, briefly, only to confirm Will had stopped in his tracks to gaze at you, too. Danielle wasn’t the only one with attention focused on her today. Several times now Will had reminded you – gently but firmly – to reapply sunscreen and drink water. As the men set to work on building a fire, he had called to you again to remind you about the water, pulling a quiet giggle from Danielle.

“That’s five times for that one, then,” she counted aloud, watching as you grabbed the water from beside you to take a large drink. “Benny and I aren’t the only ones perfect for one another. That man loves you, you know.”

You felt the heat in your cheeks and knew they must be several shades darker. You finished the bottle of water and released a deep breath before you chose your words, not wanting to be taken off-guard and say something stupid. “He doesn’t…love me. We just…we get along well.”

“He loves you, and no amount of self-deprecating denial from you is going to change that,” she remarked, taking another drink of one of several hard seltzers she’d had that day. You knew those things barely contained alcohol, but you also had to wonder if it was contributing to her willingness to be so open. “You should let him.”

“I should let him what?” you questioned, feeling the answer in your stomach before she spoke it.

“Love you. You should let him love you,” she replied, rolling her eyes with a soft laugh. “He seems pretty good at it.”

As you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth you turned your face away from her, noticing that the other half of this conversation’s topic had found his way back into the water alone. Finally cracking under the pressure you felt to be alone with him for even a minute you decided the ocean couldn’t be that bad, really, and made your way to the chilling water. You really didn’t want to find your way into the ocean, but if it meant time with Will, so be it.

You’d almost made your way to him when something touched your leg, sending you into an immediate panic as you made your way to him, essentially launching yourself into his arms as you screamed his name. William immediately cradled you against him, smiling down at you with an all-too amused smile.

“I’ve got you; I’ve got you,” he cooed, raising a thumbs up to the shore so no one worried after your scream before he brought that arm to hold you as well. “What’s the matter?”

“Something touched my foot,” you whined, unused to being in the ocean like this. The chuckle that rumbled through him shook his chest, his reminders to reapply sunscreen not influencing him – he’d gotten some color on his cheeks and nose. Even in your distraught state, it was impossible to not recognize how handsome he was.

“Well, there are fish in the ocean, honeybee,” he drawled, his voice full of amusement. His nickname for you caused your stomach to flip in the most annoying way, and you felt yourself curl into him more despite yourself. “What do you want me to do, hmm? How can I fix it?”

“I want to get out. Carry me out,” you stated, clinging to him. Whether it was him holding you that felt so good or genuine fear keeping you to him, he really couldn’t say. He nodded, but instead of going toward the shore he moved away from it, swimming out with you further. “William! I said OUT!”

“I thought you said you wanted me to take you further out!” he replied, his tone too full of amusement. You moved to wrap your legs around his waist instead, narrowing your eyes at him and setting your face to be serious, eyebrows furrowed. He wanted to lean in to kiss the lines. “Hey, hey, hey…” he cooed, turning his back to the shore and leaning his forehead against yours with a light smile. You could see the light freckles on his cheeks that the sun had brought out throughout the day, his eyes light in the fading sunlight as he gazed longingly at you. No one had ever talked to you as soft as he did. “’m not gonna let anything happen to you. You don’t need to worry about a thing as long as I am right here with you.”

His lips pressed to yours in a gentle, reassuring kiss briefly before he returned to simply leaning his head against yours. You lightly bumped your nose against his, resting your hands on his chest gently. It was impossible not to believe him. “Still not nice, William Miller.”

“I know, I just wanted you alone for a minute,” he conceded, angling his head to press a kiss to the corner of your lips. You couldn’t help but smile under his affections, maintaining that hard exterior proving difficult as his kisses chipped away at it. “I’m sorry, honey. Let me make it up to you?”

You tilted your head and raised an eyebrow in curiosity, slipping one of your hands to his bicep. “How do you plan on doing that? I was pretty distraught.”

“Let me take you home,” he offered, his eyes so sincere it hurt. He pressed a gentle kiss to your lips before he continued further. When you didn’t give him a response, he continued. “I have feelings for you.”

“Well…stop it,” slipped from your lips before you could stop it, your cheeks immediately burning at your own callousness. It was second nature to push people away now…especially Will, who was getting closer than anyone was allowed right now. Instead of being hurt, Will could only smile at your attempt.

“Yeah?” he questioned, pressing a gentle, lingering kiss to your lips. His words came between kisses as he spoke. “You want me to stop?”

As the kisses grew deeper and you felt the warmth of arousal spreading through your body you had to shake your head, knowing he’d recognize the longing in your eyes and call your bluff if you insisted. He smiled as his hands slipped down from your sides to grasp your ass under the water, pressing you into him firmly as you shook your head and released a defeated sigh.

“You can take me to your house,” you conceded, running your fingers through his hair as you looked at him through your lashes, devouring him with an unashamedly lascivious look. His eyes lit up even further, finally listening and carrying you closer to the shore so both of you could leave the ocean and get to his truck as soon as possible. As you wrapped yourself in a towel and gathered the items you’d brought with you in a bag you ignored her quiet giggles, unwilling to even consider the conversation Will was having with the men behind you. You supposed you owed Frankie a conversation as well on Monday. Dani called to you to have fun as you walked to Will’s truck.

When he had you secured in his truck, he leaned to press a kiss against your lips as he buckled you in. He was a safe driver and had incredible reflexes, you reminded yourself of this frequently as he drove back with one hand rested on your thigh, kneading his fingers into the soft flesh occasionally. He pulled into his driveway sooner than he should have – he’d never speed with you in the car again – and immediately had you cradled in his arms again as he carried you into his house.

When he began to make his way up the stairs he finally spoke, trying to cover the happiness in his voice with seriousness. “You’re sure this is what you want?” You responded by reaching your head to plant kisses on his shoulder, trailing them to his neck as best you could as you nodded. As he opened his bedroom door, he gazed down at you finally, not taking another step forward just yet. “Have to hear you say it.”

“Yes, Will,” you confirmed, and those two words melted his resolve. He placed you on his bed carefully before he crawled between your legs, keeping one hand on your hip and cupping your cheek in his hand as he kissed you deeply. You returned his kiss immediately, just as desperate for him as he was for you at this point. His fingers began to work at the ties of your bottoms as he traced the seam of your mouth with his tongue, groaning appreciatively as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. When he was satisfied with the taste he’d received he released your lips, trailing his kisses to your jaw and neck as he removed the bottoms.

His kisses trailed lower on your neck, Will fighting the urge to suck purple marks into your skin in such an obvious place. Your hands ran up his back to the back of his neck and head, holding him closer as he trailed his kisses to your chest just as he’d worked that tie free as well, removing the fabric from your body and leaving you finally bare for him. He leaned back to run his eyes down you appreciatively, one of his thumbs rubbing gently over one of your nipples slowly.

“You look so fucking pretty in my bed,” he complimented before leaning forward again, claiming one of your nipples in his mouth with a flick of his tongue. He happily familiarized himself with each of your breasts, earning the most beautiful moans that had ever graced his ears from you as your hips pressed up into his in desperation for friction. When your hot core was met with his obvious erection in his swim trunks you moaned in unison, Will pressing his waist into you further. He released your nipple from his mouth to trail his kisses downward again as he whispered. “Bet you’re gonna taste fucking delicious mixed with salt water…”

His hand that had been holding your hip moved to spread your legs as his lips reached your hip, smiling against the skin before kissing it gently. Experimentally he spread your already soaking folds with a swipe of his fingers, groaning appreciatively as you gasped. “Will…”

“All this for me, baby?” he cooed, lowering his head to swirl his tongue around your clit before sucking the sensitive bundle of nerves lightly. “You always get this wet for me? Is this pretty pussy this wet every time I kiss you?”

You whined your confirmation as he ran his tongue through your folds, an appreciative groan rumbling in his chest as he finally tasted you. His name fell from your lips again and he nodded in encouragement before setting in on his first task of the night, devouring every inch that your hot core had to offer him. For as many times as you’d imagined Will’s head between your thighs, nothing compared to the way he tended to every inch of you, groans and grunts vibrating through his mouth as he fucked his tongue into your velvet entrance.

He had your legs shaking on either side of his head in no time, his lips curving into a smile as he connected his thumb with your clit, continuing to swirl his tongue inside of you as best he could. When your breathing became erratic and your hands reached to grasp his hair, he knew he had you on the edge, nodding in affirmation when you warned him you were going to come. When euphoria rocked through you with a loud moan your hips arched off the bed, giving him a much better angle to appreciate the nectar he’d earned.

The ceiling above you turned to a white light as pleasure rushed through you, your moan turning to a scream when he didn’t relent at your entrance or clit, continuing to stimulate you through your orgasm. By the time he’d crawled his way back up your body and removed his trunks you had come down somewhat, only enough to be somewhat aware as he rubbed the head of his cock through your folds with a low groan.

“I can get a condom…” he offered, whatever his full sentence was intended to be cut off as you pressed a lazy, half-aware kiss to his lips as you shook your head, quiet please leaving your lips. Briefly arguing with the responsibility of the decision he was about to make. When you quietly begged him to fuck you again all reason escaped his mind, lining his already throbbing cock at your entrance before thrusting in carefully. Your wet heat welcomed him in like you were meant to do so, the heat of your velvet channel caressing him inch by inch until he was buried in you. He groaned low in appreciation as he pressed his lips to yours in a loving kiss, stilling his movements to give you both a moment to savor the feeling of him filling you. “Better than I could have fucking imagined…”

One of his hands slid carefully up your body to rest on your cheek, pulling you closer as gently as he could to claim your lips in a kiss as he withdrew from you almost completely before thrusting back in, grunting as your walls fluttered around him. As your lips and tongues entered a dance they had done so many times now your bodies came together fully for the first, his cock massaging your walls with each of his well-purposed thrusts. You wrapped your legs around his waist to draw him in closer, holding him against you as close as his thrusts would allow you. He pulled away from the kiss to bump his nose against yours gently before running it along your cheek affectionately, placing a kiss just below his ear when he’d reached the sensitive spot.

“Like you were made for me,” he whispered in your ear, his thrusts increasing in pace as he neared his finish much sooner than he wanted to. He reached to grasp one of your legs, sliding it so your ankle hooked over his shoulder so he could angle into you deeper. The new depths he reached pulled you closer to the edge, his thumb connecting with your clit again, causing your walls to flutter around him.

“I’m on the pill,” you offered, feeling a second orgasm approaching you as he rubbed steady circles around your clit and the velvet head of his cock brushed against the coveted spot inside of you, sensing the end approached for him as well as his thrusts became more erratic and desperate. Your quiet suggestion pulled a groan from his chest, his head turning to claim your lips again in a messy kiss.

“You want me to fill you up, princess? That what you’re asking me for?” he questioned between deep thrusts accompanied by deep breaths, his hand sliding from your cheek to your neck as he pressed soft kisses to your lips. “You tell me that’s what you want and I’ll give it to you. I’ll give you anything you ask for.”

You could only bring yourself to nod as you kissed him deeply, your own orgasm rushing through you as you moaned against his lips. Feeling your walls tighten around him he couldn’t hold his own release back, spilling his seed into you with a groan as he pulled away from your kiss to lean his forehead against yours. He could have told you that he was falling in love with you right then.

As you both came down from shared euphoria he rolled to his side next to you, wrapping his arms around his waist as he went to hold you against him gently. You listened to your instincts by tucking your face into his neck, breathing in deeply to steady your breaths as Will pressed gentle kisses to the top of your head and whispered quiet praises and thank yous to you. One of your legs slid up between his to cuddle closer, your arms wrapping around his middle as your eyes slid closed.

You probably could’ve fallen asleep right then, if his words hadn’t woken you from your peaceful lull. “I’ve got extra clothes and…we can shower before you change if you want.”

The sweet suggestion snapped you back to reality, and you forced yourself to let him know you'd have to go home now. In all honesty, it was the last thing that you wanted to do, but you were unwilling to relent just yet on your insistence to not pursue something serious. Will, of course, didn't want to tell you no because he wanted you to feel comfortable with him - he wanted you to know that he would listen to you, and support whatever you felt was best for yourself. That included you leaving him for the night, even when he wanted you more than he had any night before.

Not hearing anything about accepting a ride home from him, insistent on being independent for the night, you sent Frankie a text to grab you on his way back from the beach if he hadn't made it home already. 15 minutes later Frankie was in Will's driveway, a sympathetic look on his face as he waved to the younger man through the windshield as you climbed into the truck.

Will watched silently as the truck backed out of the driveway and you disappeared down the street, mentally vowing to himself that he would willingly spend as long as you needed waiting.

When November’s curtain call came and the evening chill of December rolled in, you’d found your match with William Miller, who was acting by his promise and providing you with consistency, with reverent tenderness. No matter what distance you tried to maintain from him he was just as unrelenting, finding ways through your obstacles day after day. He never pushed, never overstepped, but he was always there, ever willing to cherish you in entirety whenever given the chance. Lately those opportunities had grown, proliferating into prolonged post-coital kisses and embraces that could hardly be passed off as anything less than adoration any longer.

Falling wasn’t enough to describe the feeling – falling was too subtle. A plummeting nosedive, a cascade…an avalanche, a crashing meteor – so consuming it swallowed you until all that was left was Will, his affections blanketing you with unwavering warmth.

“Honeybee!” Will called as he entered through the front door, the sound of him removing his boots and setting them by the door causing you to smile as you crushed candy canes in the kitchen. All your meetings had been reserved for his home but today you’d offered to host him and his friends at your farmhouse for dinner – Christmas Eve dinner.

“In here, Will,” you replied from your place at the counter, taking a deep breath as you started sprinkling the candy canes atop the cupcakes you made for dessert. An immediate advantage to having Will in your home was the sound of the creaking floor beneath his large frame – even without shoes – meant you could hear him coming behind you. “Don’t mess me up, Will. This is serious business.”

A laugh rumbled through him as he delicately wrapped his arms around your waist anyway, resting his chin on your shoulder for a moment before turning inward, burrowing his face in your neck with a deep breath. He pressed a gentle kiss behind your ear, assessed your response, and then repeated the motion when he realized you remained focused on your task, smiling into your skin lightly. When you finished you slid the cupcake stand back further on the counter for safety before turning in his arms, a playful smile lighting your features. It was only now Will noticed what remained of a candy cane in your mouth, his mind spinning already at the thought of what your lips must taste like now.

“Did I mess you up?” he questioned, leaning forward to press his lips to your forehead with a quiet hum of appreciation as your arms found their way around his neck, not before your hands slid over his chest. He opted to forego the ugly sweater party – you knew that was coming – but he did at least wear a red sweater, the color bringing out the coolness of his eyes. Even in the winter he was managing to keep up plenty of color, but not enough to hide the redness to his cheeks as you held his gaze.

Sometimes he couldn’t decide if it was better you could hold his eye contact now or not – he still hadn’t grown used to feeling somewhat embarrassed just under a woman’s gaze. The way you removed the candy from your mouth with a pop and placed it in the trash behind you certainly didn’t help.

“Nearly, but I’ll let it slide seeing as it’s Christmas and all,” your fingers found their way into his hair, pulling him closer so you could press your lips to his in a gentle kiss. One thing he would never grow accustomed to was the clench in his heart whenever you initiated affection – some of his favorite kisses sparked by you.

“Christmas Eve, honeybee,” he replied when you released him, pressing a kiss to his cheek as best you could from standing on your toes. He tightened his hold on your waist to hold you against him tighter, relishing in your attention and uncaring about the inevitable mess that would transfer from your apron to him.

“Mm, you look handsome in this little red number, Will,” you teased, bringing more color to his cheeks. It was too easy for you now – you loved it.

“I wore it just for you,” he drawled, seeking out another taste of peppermint on your lips with a gentle kiss. The fact that you knew that was true only made your chest swell more.

“Well, you’ll have to wear something else for me, too, since technically…you are out of dress code,” you remarked, eyebrow raised slightly in a manner he knew to be playful. Whatever you had in store he would play along with, as long as it meant this mood you were in would continue, particularly with how the two of you had left things last time – an argument that had been eating at both of you for days.

"You’ll have to make a decision sooner or later,” he’d stated as he leaned against his truck in the parking lot after one of Benny’s fights, trying to appear much cooler on the outside than he was on the inside where frustration bubbled under his skin. He’d slipped – called you his girlfriend, and it had been too much of a reality check for you to handle. Despite his harshness he reached a hand toward you, beckoning you closer – you did not follow. A wild animal backed into a corner – hissing and feral and scared. So many questions remained in his mind about why it was so hard for you to accept love, but he’d never push for those answers. You’d give them freely in your own time. The topic at hand remained to be that Will had spent weeks earning your affection, and while he was patient, it had been worn somewhat thin. “We don’t spend the night together…months now and I’ve never woken up next to you,” he continued, eyebrows pulling together as he crossed his arms again. “And if that’s not frustrating enough, I can’t even slip and call you my girlfriend – to my brother – without you getting upset. I’m doing everything I can here, I just need you to give a little back. Anything.” Your lip had quivered, tears pricking at your eyes. Will hated to see you that way, hated to have caused it – it would gnaw at him in the days that followed, as would all the words that followed, so unimportant now. As much as the argument shredded his heart day after day the same was true for you – perhaps if he knew how guilty you felt because you were still resisting what was right in front of you, he could have gone easier on you.

Even now the guilt festered.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, unwilling to spark any sort of disagreement today. You reached behind you to the counter to grab a Santa hat before lifting it onto his head, smiling a sweet smile before flattening his hands against your lower back to pull you closer. He offered you a smile in return, withholding any fussing about the hat as his eyes met yours again. One of his hands left its position to lift to your cheek, callused fingers lightly dusting across your cheekbones. “I’m sorry about Friday night, honey. I shouldn’t be pushing you like that…I knew what I asked for when I asked for it.”

It was in your nature to lean your head toward his hand, your eyes drifting shut briefly to enjoy the moment. You only met his gaze again when you’d chosen your response, words leaving your lips quiet and sincere. “I’m the one who should be sorry, Will,” you sighed, leaning forward to lay your head on his chest, calmed by the familiar rhythm of his heart. “I do need to make a decision, you were right.”

“Yeah, but I…lost my temper. I raised my voice,” he rested his hand that had been on your cheek on the back of your head, stroking your hair and internally smiling at the streaks of flour leftover from your day in the kitchen. “I should never do that to you, there’s no excuse.”

“Apology accepted,” you whispered, burying your face into his chest to inhale the smell of him – saltwater and oak, subtle and resolute. He leaned to press a kiss to the top of your head, holding you for a moment before the day needed to continue. “Can you help me get the star on the tree and put presents underneath while I set the table? Dinner should be done by the time everyone else shows.”

He nodded, pressing a final kiss to your forehead before releasing you so you could get back to work. “You know at least one of ‘em will be late.”

“I included an extra twenty minutes on the cooking time to accommodate,” you quipped back cheerfully, removing your apron and hanging it on its rightful hook, giving the kitchen one final look over to ensure nothing was forgotten before setting off into the living room, remarking how Will needed to hurry because you had everything planned to the minute.

He’d never been more certain he loved you.

“Why’d you get a tree you couldn’t reach the top of, shortcake?”

You turned to throw him a look, cheeks burning with heat despite the amused smile that broke out across your face. He returned it with one of his own, straightening the Santa hat on his head before walking over to where you stood by the tree. He adored the mood you were in today, and wondered briefly if you were this way every Christmas. Your playful tone had returned. “Size does matter with some things, love. No one wants a wants a tiny tree with no needles.”

It wasn’t the first time that nickname had slipped, yet his chest still tightened. He wrapped his arms around you again, unable to resist pressing a kiss to your forehead as he pulled you in close before lifting you up so you could situate the star atop the tree. Satisfied with the state of the living room you tasked Will with starting the fireplace, putting music on via the record player in the living room, and lighting some candles while you finished cooking.

It was easy being domestic with you.

Everyone’s arrivals staggered from there forward. Benny arrived next, early and eager to spend time with his brother, with an arm slung around Dani, smiling and remarking how fantastic your house was before giving himself a tour. By the way his eyes kept raking over her you could only assume they found a hallway to defile. Dani joined you soon after with a smile and offered to help in the kitchen, which you accepted with some relief.

As Will and Ben broke into a bottle of bourbon and eggnog (Benny had threatened not to come if there was no eggnog available), Santiago showed up – surprisingly not in an ugly sweater after weeks of talking trash about how his was going to put yours to shame. You opted not to even bring it up given the expression on his face – today was clearly not the day to pick at Pope – and instead greeted him with a sweet smile instead. Frankie was last – really to no one’s surprise – and everyone had found a seat at the table as you loaded it up with food.

Santiago had jokingly requested an entire turkey – the largest one you could find – perhaps as a challenge, and you’d agreed to make it without second thought. Frankie was simple and asked for macaroni and cheese, Benny sheepishly requested sweet potatoes and dinner rolls, while Dani was sensible and requested “any kind of vegetable.” Will had shown his sweet tooth by requesting something sweet for dinner, hence the cupcakes you’d finished earlier.

“This looks incredible,” Benny complimented, pulling his eyes away from the food in front of him to look toward where you sat at the head of the table. Frankie and Dani both voiced quick words of agreement while Santi nodded, checking his phone quickly. “You have to give a toast.”

“Oh, no,” you laughed, waving your hand dismissively as you shook your head. Your face burned so badly you felt like all your head had become was a flaming ball. “No one wants to hear me do a toast, seriously. Dig in before it gets cold.”

Ben crossed his arms and Frankie’s face set into concrete resolution. It was the younger Miller who spoke, tone unwavering and serious. You weren’t entirely sure you’d heard him be so serious before…even before his fights. “We’re not eating until a toast is given.”

“Will can give a toast,” slipped from your mouth, nervousness causing the words to spill freely – maybe a little too freely. With a nervous laugh you continued. “He’s basically the man of the house.”

Will’s eyes noticeably widened up at you to your right, his mouth falling open slightly in surprise as his cheeks mirrored the fire in your own. Ben’s head snapped toward Will, giving a light smirk as his brother stood, never pulling his eyes from your face as he lifted his glass from the table.

The toast he gave was short, and yet he still struggled to make it through its entirety. Several times he cleared his throat, feeling the tingle in his tear ducts that threatened to pour with each passing moment, each beat of his heart causing a tightness in his chest.

“And…” he began the final sentence, releasing a shaking breath as he looked around the table. His eyes settled back to you like it was the most natural place in the world for them to be. You reached out to where one of his hands grasped the edge of the table, sliding your hand atop his and giving a gentle squeeze. The simple act spurred him through the rest of his speech. “And here’s to hopefully many more Christmases with all of us together.”

Dinner went smoothly from there, the table’s mood lighthearted and happy as everyone ate, light conversations being passed around – which included stories from both Will and Ben about their Christmases growing up and the trouble they used to get themselves into. Once the table was clear the group relocated into the living room to sit around the tree to complete the Secret Santa gift exchange you’d all planned.

Santi gave Frankie the gift he’d gotten him first – a new fishing pole, a hat (it was the same one he’d always worn, just a new version – you had to wonder how many times he’d been gifted the exact hat), and a pack of new socks. Frankie was enthralled by each of them, saying they’d have to plan a trip soon. As a result Frankie went next, handing Danielle her gift in a bag (he’d tried to wrap it, truly…he gave up when half the roll had been used). Danielle’s face lit up at the various candles and candy inside the bag and waved the spa trip for two pass in your direction with a smile.

Dani gifted Santi with tickets to a concert he’d been complaining for weeks he didn’t secure tickets to, which brought his trademark soft smile to his face as he thanked her profusely. Not before multiple comments were made about how the group hoped there was seating in the venue, so he didn’t have to stand on his shitty knees the entire time, you announced you’d go next since Santi had already handed out his gift. Passing a sizeable box to Ben with a wink and a smile you leaned back against the fireplace, watching as the younger Miller tore into it with excitement.

“You did not get me an original Nintendo 64,” he exclaimed, eyes wide as he pulled the old console out of the box. As Will watched on his chest tightened as you smiled at Ben, the word family seeming to repeat itself in his mind.

“You’ve been complaining about how the new model isn’t the same,” you explained with a shrug, taking a drink of the cider you held in your hand. “I can’t wait to kick your ass in Mario Party.”

“Next weekend, you’re on. Hope you’re not a sore loser,” he smirked, digging through the games that littered the bottom of the box as well. Wrapped up in admiring his gift he almost forgot to pass the envelope he was holding to his own brother with a playful smile. Will laughed – your heart swelled – and as he opened the envelope, he shot his brother a smile. “I know we usually say no gift cards…but you’re impossible to buy for. Figured you could use it on dinner or…somethin’.”

The brothers shared another knowing look and smile before Will reached out to pat his back, mentally noting to give him a proper hug when they weren’t sitting later. Which left Will to give the gift he’d purchased for the only person that remained without…you.

He moved closer to you on the couch, draping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you in close as he slipped his phone from his pocket, glancing down at you first to offer you a smile. “So, you’ve been saying that you miss the snow…”

As his sentence trailed, he turned his phone screen so you could see it, the sight of a small, warm-looking cabin surrounded by snow and pine trees filling your eyes. You turned your head to look up at him, eyebrows furrowed in slight confusion and questioning as your mouth opened briefly. Will beat you to talking.

“Now, obviously…I didn’t buy it, but I did rent it for a weekend…next month when there still should be plenty of snow,” he offered, crystalline eyes transfixed on yours as he spoke. “I thought we could take a nice trip…together, especially since that weekend will be your anniversary of going to rehab. It’s big enough for people to join –“

“Not a single one of us wants to be in that cabin with you two that weekend,” Santiago interrupted, quickly dismissing the thought with a shake of his head.

“…no offense, of course.” Frankie chimed in, elbowing his best friend.

“Oh, full offense intended,” Ben joined in, his words chased by a laugh. “You two in a cold ass log cabin somewhere in the fuckin’ Rockies? Count all of us out.”

Your cheeks burned at their teasing and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to look away from Will, your bottom lip pulling between your teeth briefly as you grasped his hand gently. There were a lot of words that ran through your mind in appreciation – three not-so-little ones squeaking quietly in the back of your mind. You tried to silence them – something you had to do often now. It was getting more and more difficult to do.

Everyone else was ignored, even their taunting. As was so often the case, it was only you and Will.

“Thank you,” you whispered quietly, melting at the gentle curve of his lips. Without thinking you leaned upward to kiss him once quickly and gently, a small action that quickly silenced the group. They knew it happened, but seeing it was far different than hearing about it.

It was thanks enough for Will.

Now the gifts had all been received you excused yourself to gather plates and cupcakes from the kitchen. Once everyone had plates with multiple cupcakes each, it was time to watch a movie – the choice of which was yours.

The movie you chose really didn’t matter – your focus was almost entirely on Will. Taking the loveseat close to the fire, Will had his arms wrapped around you tightly seemingly from the moment you’d sat down, pulling you back against his strong chest to support you while he balanced a plate of cupcakes on his knee. He left no room for you to protest such an obvious display of affection, keeping one arm slung around your shoulder and seemingly pulling you closer and closer by the second.

After everyone had eaten their cupcakes and really settled in, you had to wonder if the other men and woman in the room minded the state you found yourself in with Will. His arm remained around your shoulders, your hand reaching up to lace your fingers with his…which allowed you the ability to press kisses to his fingers with ease. Several times Will turned your head, to press a gentle kiss to your lips, your nose, your forehead…smiling earnestly each time and pulling at your heart.

Halfway through the movie Will leaned to whisper in your ear, his breath hot against the shell. The mint lingering on his to his breath and huskiness in his voice send a chill up your spine – you knew he felt it when a quiet chuckle rumbled through his chest. “Let’s split the other cupcake on the plate.”

You turned your head to flash him an amused look, raising an eyebrow. “That’ll be your third one.”

“We’re splitting it,” he defended with a shrug of his shoulders, his other hand reaching for the aforementioned plate on the table beside the couch. “It doesn’t count.”

“Mm,” you smiled, taking the cupcake to unwrap it before taking a slow bite. When you offered it to him his eyes flashed with a look entirely indecent for company, his voice lower as he held your gaze. A subtle shake to his head confirmed what your mind had already begun to infer. “Gimme a bite.”

You fed him a bite slowly, eyes locked with his as you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth slightly, watching his pink tongue dart out to run along his bottom lip to collect the peppermint icing there. He offered another smile with an appreciative hum

“Would you two get a room?” Benny questioned over the movie, shooting his older brother a playful look. He wasn’t serious, he truly didn’t mind seeing his older brother finally loosen up a bit and be happy – but that didn’t mean he couldn’t give him hell. It was, after all, the responsibility of being a younger sibling.

“They’re all my rooms, Benjamin,” you taunted, shooting the man a bright smile that Will took the moment to cherish. Taking another bite of the cupcake with a smirk on his lips he opted to settle back in then, wrapping his arms around you and resting his chin on the top of your head.

The two of you remained that way for the rest of the movie, his arms clutching you against his chest and rubbing gentle circles on your stomach occasionally. There was nothing stopping him from pressing kisses to the top of your head, either – which he considered fair, given that you were irresistible this close to him.

Santiago cleared out first in a haste, jaw clenching through his goodbyes which he seemed less-than-focused on as he checked his phone’s screen several more times. It was then that you offered a room to anyone who wanted to stay, which was quickly shot down by both Ben and Frankie who shared a knowing look.

“We do not want to be in this house when your…canoodling escalates,” Ben asserted, glancing between his older brother and you, who were now standing a few steps further from Will in an attempt to be less obvious. It was far too late for that.

With a hug and kiss on the cheek from Frankie and a promise to call you tomorrow, Dani gave you a gentle hug which was quickly contrasted by a crushing hug from Ben, who then only had to hug his brother goodbye before the two of you were alone. Will immediately wrapped his arms around you when the front door was shut, pulling you into his chest while releasing a deep breath.

He loved his brothers – but solitude with you was bliss.

“Let’s go clean up that kitchen,” he began, pausing his sentence mid-way through to press a kiss to your forehead. “Get it over with so we don’t have to worry about it, darlin’.”

You’d do almost anything he asked so long as he asked in that molasses thick tone.

You pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, teasing him by pulling away slowly with a light smile on your face before you removed yourself from his arms, making your way to the kitchen with him following. When you began to run the sink to fill it you glanced to watch him lean against the counter to wait, his arms crossed like he was trying to control himself. Following his gaze your eyes landed on the cupcakes that remained (you’d made extra knowing he would be this way), and a smile passed over your features.

“I see you eyeballing those cupcakes, Mister Miller,” you teased, smiling further when he turned to you with red cheeks and a bashful gaze. You leaned across the counter to grab one, taking a slow bite as your eyes stayed on his. He wasn’t quite sure the cupcake was so important anymore. “C’mere and share this one with me before we do the dishes.”

He was good at following orders.

He didn’t need to tell you to feed him bites this time, you gladly taking up the task with adoration pooling in your eyes as you fed him almost the entire cupcake. He offered you a gentle smile as you reached upward to remove icing from the corner of his lips, popping the digit into your mouth with an appreciative hum before handing him the kitchen towel.

“I’ll clean, you dry.”

The rhythm the two of you entered was the same as every other way the two of you seemed to effortlessly fit together these days. Will could reach cabinets you couldn’t which made the task go much faster, and while he found himself quietly humming seasonal songs you soaked in the relaxation the sound brought.

“Today was good, yeah?” Will questioned from beside you, drying off another dish before placing it in its rightful place in the cabinet. “I think that’s the best Christmas this group has managed in years.”

“Benny said he’s going to pay me to make him those cupcakes every week. That Miller sweet tooth is something fierce,” you joked, rinsing out another glass. His cheeks reddened at your teasing. “Did you talk to Santiago? Something was up with him, he looked at his phone at least twenty times an hour, and he was bragging for weeks that his ugly sweater would put me to shame and then he just…didn’t wear one.”

“Mm,” he mused, taking another glass from you to dry it. “Pope is doing a poor job at keeping a secret he thinks he’s doing a great job at. He’s on edge.”

“Doesn’t he know better than to try to keep secrets from you?” you questioned, handing the last dish and turning to fix your attention on him as he dried it. At some point, damn him, he’d rolled the sleeves of his sweater up, and he looked so natural in your home it was starting to make you feel sentimental. Whole. “But today was great. We did a good job.”

“We, like I had hardly anything to do with it,” he hummed, smiling lightly as he put the dish away before leaning on the counter with his hip to face you. “It was practically all you. But…I’ve been telling you we make a good team.”

He reached out his hand gently toward you, pulling you closer to him to press a kiss to your forehead, not expecting a response. Wrapping your arms around his waist you stepped in as close as you could, resting your head on his chest and closing your eyes. He held onto you tightly, shifting to lean his back against the counter to hold you closer. Flashes of the day spent together ran through both of your minds –you’d sat in his lap on the couch in front of everyone – because the living room didn’t have enough seats (lie) – but the feeding him bites of your cupcake was entirely optional.

Will loved you. It was a fact that was growing harder and harder to ignore by the day, the ache in his chest growing every time he heard your name or saw your face. He didn’t want to say his next words, but he had grown so used to them – so used to this routine now that he accepted when they needed to be said.

“It’s getting late. I should probably head out, before the idiots get out on the road.”

It was a long pause, putting William on edge for a moment as he waited for your words. Even hesitation like this wasn’t normal for you. Your voice was soft, slightly wavering as you tilted your head back to look up at him.

“I don’t remember asking you to leave.”

Will paused, brief confusion flashing on his face before he smiled lightly, clearing his throat as he gave a slight nod. He was truly doing his best not to look overjoyed, though that’s exactly what he felt. “Are you asking me to stay, honeybee?”

“I thought it’d be a good Christmas present.”

“Maybe the best one I’ve ever gotten,” he smiled, leaning closer to brush his lips over yours again. His hands slid lower, pulling you closer to press a kiss to your lips gently. You couldn’t help but smile into the kiss, at his desperation to be close to you now that the two of you were alone, and his poor attempt at hiding how happy he was. His hands slipping lower still he ran his fingers over your thighs, eyes searching your face for a response. You were getting far too good at the poker face you’d developed against him.

“Are you trying to take me up to bed this quickly, Ironhead?” you cooed, looking up at him with a hooded gaze through your lashes. You hoped your face remained straight despite the burn that surged toward your core – feeling a bit proud of yourself again as you noticed him swallow hard. “You’ll miss out on the matching pajamas I picked up for us…”

“I’ve waited all day,” he pointed out, dragging one of his hands upward to push your skirt up, trailing kisses down your neck and chest. You grasped the edge of the counter to steady yourself, his eyes glancing up into yours again as he began to sink to his knees, using one of his hands to lift your leg over his shoulder. “I’m still starving.”

An embarrassingly wanton moan fell from your lips, one of your hands reaching to slide your fingers through his hair as his hand slid up your thigh to push your underwear to the side. “Is this what you thought about all day, Will?”

“You know it is. That little stunt you pulled earlier wasn’t very nice,” he drawled, eyes hungrily running over your already soaked cunt. “Look how wet you are for me, honeybee. You’ve been thinking about me today too, haven’t you? You sweet thing.”

You whimpered as he ran his fingers through your folds, his lips curving upward into a light smile as he taunted you slightly – waiting for you to answer. “Thought about me all day and now you can’t stop talking.”

He chuckled as he leaned forward, running his flattened tongue through your folds with a low groan as you rocked your core against his face, his nose bumping your clit and causing you to moan. He set in on his task then, satiating the hunger he still felt by licking and sucking and kissing every inch of your sex he could, relishing in your fingers tangling into his hair as you threw your head back with a moan. “God, this is a Christmas present…” The muffled laugh he released vibrated through you, the sensation causing you to buck your core into his face with a gasp as you pulled his hair slightly. “Fuck, William, you’re so fucking…so good at that.”

He removed his mouth from fucking his tongue into your entrance to smile up at you crookedly, his lips and facial hair glistening with your arousal. Slipping a finger into your tight channel he turned his head to press a gentle kiss to your inner thigh. “Love when you tell me how good I make you feel.”

He began to thrust his finger into you as he connected his mouth with your clit, giving the sensitive nub a flick with his tongue before sucking it gently. You whined his name quietly, keeping a hold on his hair as you moved your aching core against his face and hand, already desperate for more. He groaned against your skin with a particularly slow swipe of his tongue, adding a second finger to begin to stretch you.

The tips of his fingers massaged against your walls perfectly each time he pushed them back into you, particularly against the perfectly blinding spot behind your clit. You cried out, hands grasping his hair to steady yourself as you rutted against his mouth desperately. His tongue circled around your clit again, one hand slipping behind you to cup your ass and hold you against him closer, his blue eyes still burning up at you.

“Fuck, Will, I…” you began, words trailing off with an uptick in pitch as your thigh began to shake behind his head. Ensuring he tightened his hold on you he nodded, flicking his tongue against your clit with more fervor. Not long after you moaned his name again loudly, your eyes rolling back as heat rushed through you.

He removed his fingers but continued to lap at your folds, groaning appreciatively at the taste of your release coating his tongue. When he’d drank enough of you down he began to kiss up your body again, holding you close by the hips with one hand and undoing his belt and pants with the other as his lips connected with yours again. You tasted yourself on his tongue and – damn it – all of the cupcakes he’d eaten that lingered as well. After pushing his pants and briefs to the floor and kicking them aside.

Before he could lift you to the counter you broke the kiss, trailing your kisses down his neck before sucking a light mark above his collarbone with a smile. His chest rumbled with a groan, his hands slipping to your lower back to hold you closer. Your hands moved to hold his shoulders, applying pressure to encourage him to swap positions with you, smiling as you looked up at him through heavy lashes.

“Where you goin’, honeybee?” he asked, voice heavy as he reached his hands toward you again. Widening your smile you reached to wrap your fingers around his hardened length, eyes flashing with adoration when his hips jolted forward to meet your touch, a low groan sounding in his chest again. As you continued to rub along his length you sank to your knees, not breaking eye contact as you ran your tongue along the slit of his velvet head to taste the precum leaking from him already. His hands immediately grasped behind your head, fingers lacing into your hair. “Fuck.”

You removed your hand, running your nails down his thigh lightly as your tongue traced the thick vein on his cock, a light smile tugging at your lips when he moaned out another profanity. You continued to lick up and down his length and suck only on the head briefly, enjoying the frustrated huff to his breath that grew as you teased him slightly.

His usual sense of self control was obliterated by his need to feel the warmth of your mouth around his length. Before you could pull your lips free of him again he grasped your hair tighter, holding you in place as he slipped more of his length into your mouth. “Do you like teasing me, sweet thing?” You moaned in affirmation around his length, managing to run your tongue around as much of his length as you could manage. He pushed more of his length into your mouth, head falling back briefly before he corrected himself, eyes meeting yours again. “This is what you want? For me to fuck your mouth?”

You moaned again and he took his command, thrusting his length into your mouth greedily and with almost embarrassing speed. He seldom got to enjoy the feeling of your mouth around his length as he’d always opt to bury himself in your tight cunt before he got the chance, but on these occasions when you insisted – when you wanted him to bruise your throat – he was never one to resist. When his velvet head hit the back of your throat and you gagged slightly he huffed out a deep, sustained groan as his cheeks flushed, one of his hands moving from your hair to cup your cheek and stroke it gently.

It only encouraged you further.

You reached your own hand to cup his balls, fondling them gently as he began to thrust repeatedly into your mouth – gentle as he could manage in his clouded mind. “Fuck, baby…” he began, hitting the back of your throat again and holding your hair slightly tighter to keep you in place for a moment. “God, you’re doing so good. You look so pretty. Going to make you feel so fucking good soon.”

You moaned around his length which spurred him to brush your cheek again before he returned to fucking your mouth, some part of his brain keening at the sight of you drooling around his length. He may have been a clean freak, but there were some messy sights when it came to you that he loved.

He continued to praise you while he enjoyed your mouth, lasting for several more thrusts before he removed his cock from your mouth, gently tugging you upward to your feet again. “Let me fuck you right here. I can’t wait for the bedroom.”

There was something so intrinsically commanding – and sexy – about his tone that had you scrambling to allow him to lift you onto the counter, removing your skirt and underwear and tossing them to the pile with his pants as you went. “You’re fucking me in every room in this house, William Miller. This is just the start.”

He used his hand gently to raise one of your legs and hook it over his shoulder, his other hand fisting his cock to smear your remaining spit around his length as he groaned at your words. Leaning forward he lined his cock up with your tight entrance, releasing his length to grab the hand towel on the counter beside you, holding the fabric behind your head gently as he pressed a kiss to your lips gently.

“Don’t want you hitting your head,” he explained before beginning to push his throbbing cock into your velvet walls, groaning deeply as he leaned his forehead against yours with his eyes screwed shut in concentration. You leaned your head back, grateful for the cushion of the towel and his hand rather than the cabinet as you gasped, keening at the feeling of his cock splitting you open again.

When he’d bottomed out in you he stilled for a moment, kissing you again deeply and hungrily as he enjoyed the feeling of being fully wrapped up in you again. When he released you from the kiss he lowered his head to burrow into your neck, breathing in the smell of you deeply as he began to thrust into you carefully, perfectly. Even with you on a counter he knew the perfect angles to enter you, each thrust knocking the head of his cock against either the spongey spot that made you moan or your cervix, which always made you cry out his name.

It was impossible for him to say which he preferred.

After thrusting slowly and carefully for a while, enjoying the steady beat of your heart against his chest and your pulse beneath his lips. He raised his head to kiss you again, picking up the pace as his tongue danced across your bottom lip again, a deep groan sounding in his chest when your walls fluttered around him. He was unwilling to release you from the kiss fully so he muttered against your lips – how beautiful you were, how good you felt, how wonderful you sounded moaning for him, how fucking perfect you were…

He was burrowing into your mind and heart now. You were letting him.

You intentionally clenched your walls around him slightly, wrapping your other leg around his waist to force him deeper into you, pulling what was practically a growl from his chest. His hand on your hip grasped tighter as he gave several deep, pointed, slow thrusts, his forehead falling to lean against yours as he released a shaky breath.

“Wanna fill you up again,” he breathed out desperately, fingertips digging into you roughly as his pace became sloppy. “Can’t stop thinking about seeing my cum leak out of your pretty pussy.”

“Will, fuck…” you moaned again, hands grasping his shoulders to help ground yourself somewhat, feeling the building pressure again and knowing euphoria approached. His hand left your hip to slide lower, his thumb rubbing quick circles around your sensitive bundle of nerves to coax you over the edge.

“You like that? You like hearing me talk about filling you up, my love?”

“Yes, Will, fuck, f-f-fu-fucking love it,” you moaned out, your eager-to-please tone scratching an itch in his brain and causing his pace to increase – he now pounded into you relentlessly, knowing full well you wouldn’t walk well tomorrow. He’d be here to care for you anyway.

“I know ya do,” he groaned, nipping at your bottom lip lightly. “Means you’re mine.

”You could only nod up at him as your lips stayed open, eyelids heavy. He managed a light smile at the sight, losing himself in the fantasy of filling you so often that one day it would really take and that the two of you would fill this big farmhouse with a family – one day, he thought. For now, he could at least enjoy claiming your womb in practice.

Your orgasm washed over you quickly and powerfully, walls tightening down around his cock causing him to stay buried to the hilt as you cried out his name loudly, eyes rolling back. He ground his waist against you best he could with your tight, hot walls spasming around him until his own release came, ropes of his hot seed spilling into you. He kissed you throughout your orgasms, pulling you in closer to his chest to have you as flush against him as possible.

He continued to kiss you repeatedly, gently, reverently, worshipful as both of you came down from your shared high.

“You still want me to stay?” he questioned quietly against your lips when both of you seemed to have your breath returned to normal. You offered a gentle smile, pressing a kiss against his bottom lip – it was lazy, tired. Some of his favorite kisses from you were such – when you had no energy left and you still tried to give it to him.

“Only if you carry me to bed, soldier.”

He smiled – one of his pure and genuine smiles – as he scooped you up into his arms bridal style, holding you closer to his chest as he nodded. Flipping the lights off, Will began to exit the kitchen to make his way to share your bed for the first time, before a final thought ran through his mind. For a moment he questioned if he should voice the thoughts – but he knew you wouldn’t judge him.

“…You want me to grab more of those cupcakes before we go up?”

masterlist.

#william ironhead miller #william miller x reader #will miller x reader #william miller smut #will ironhead miller #triple frontier #triple frontier smut #charlie hunnam

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moralesispunk · 11 months

Text

Old House

Frankie Morales x F! Reader

Summary: You and Frankie are staying in his childhood room

Warnings: 18+, penetrative and unprotected sex, playful/ giggly sex, established relationship (marriage with a child)

Word Count: 2k

It’s an odd feeling, as an adult, to be standing in your childhood bedroom. A room that had once felt so big and had contained every last thing you owned but now feels far too small to have ever fit the life that swirls inside of you.

You have been in Frankie’s childhood bedroom a handful of times before, hours spent hiding away from family gatherings while you quietly looked through the shelves and drawers as Frankie lay back on the bed and watched you with an amused smile on his face.

The room remains mostly the same every year you are here, sometimes with added boxes of decorations that haven’t been put up to the loft yet or packages that need to be returned. The only major change, one that makes you smile even as you think about it now, is the bare white back of the door.

That first visit home, when his sister was throwing her daughter’s first birthday party in the back garden, Frankie took you up to his room. He held your hand on the way up the stairs, standing back when he opened the door and letting you in first before he closed it over to reveal a very large poster of a very half-naked lady that had you lying on the carpet and screech-laughing as Frankie - red faced and hiding under his hat - pulled it from the door and threw it towards the basket in the corner. He pulled you up from the carpet, tickling your neck with his patchy beard and mumbling a half-hearted “shut up” as you wiped your tears into the shoulder of his shirt.

“I haven’t lived in this room since I was seventeen,” he muttered defensively and you wiped at your eyes.

“At least you have the real thing to look at now,” you said quietly, pressing yourself up against him.

He smiled, some of the embarrassment leaving but his cheeks still flushed pink.

“Oh, and you’re so much better,” he had mumbled against your lips.

On one wall there are shelves with model planes, a few with broken wings from when he had let his younger sisters play with them before realising they were much too delicate for the hands of toddlers.

There are drawers filled with old school books he had never thrown out, the plans of going to study engineering swapped out for the army. You had asked him, on your second visit up here, if he should take some home for the night classes he was applying for in the run up to his retirement and he shook his head with a wry grin, telling you that they were “just a little” out of date.

There are trophies for swimming and football, school yearbooks and half-filled notebooks. Photos of a young and bare-faced Frankie with Santiago and the Millers and other friends he lost contact with years before you came into his life. There are report cards and concert tickets all mixed up in one drawer.

The bed rests against the one blue wall - a light blue, not unintentionally - you think - like the sky - and it’s almost comical to think that it had once belonged to Frankie.

He lies on it now, ready for bed and resting against the headboard as he watches you walk around the room barefoot and wearing one of his t-shirts that brushes your thighs, and his toes are already nearly at the edge.

Usually when you are up here, it’s still the middle of the day. The garden would be filled with family and there would be muffled conversations and music coming through a slightly cracked open window, the curtains still wide and letting in the sun. It feels more intimate now, in the dead of night with a silent house.

Until six months ago, you had lived an hour drive away. One of you would drive whenever there was a dinner or party at the house, much preferring to find your way into your own bed at the end of the day, but now you were a six hour flight away.

After his mission that had gone south, two weeks that almost broke apart your family and led to days of shouting and nights of silence, you and Frankie sat down - cried out and exhausted - and you knew that something had to give.

Frankie lived in fear of running into his ex-colleagues on the street and suddenly Thursday night drinks with the guys felt more like an obligation than something that left him feeling good. You walked around your house and thought about the two weeks that had you tearing your hair out and waiting by the phone. Then, amongst all the hardship was an email into Frankie’s inbox - a job offer, entry level and using his recently acquired engineering degree but interested in all of his experience, for an aerospace engineering firm.

“In Alaska,” he said, and you both smiled.

It’s only been six months in your new fixer-upper house and Frankie’s job is only a half-an-hour drive from your small town. You work three days to match with Sofia’s nursery days and spend two having one on one days with your daughter before a weekend filled with the three of you. It’s only been six months, and yet everything is starting to feel normal again.

Frankie’s head tilts as he watches you wander around his room now, taking only short breaks to glance down at the monitor on the bedside table.

“Bet you never thought you’d be using a baby-monitor in this room,” you say and Frankie laughs.

“Think my Ma spent her Sundays praying I wouldn’t.”

You spin on your heels, turning to look along the shelf with the photographs.

“Did you have your first kiss up here?” You ask, lifting a photo frame of Frankie and a group of people. You’ve looked at the photo half a dozen times before, Frankie’s chin resting on your shoulder and pointing everyone out. An ex-girlfriend here and an ex-boyfriend there, answering your raised eyebrows with “not at the same time, obviously,” and nipping your hip playfully.

Your thumb strokes across his face, a smile hidden beneath the bill of his hat like he often does now, and you see him shake his head out of the corner of your eye.

“Behind the gym hall after a school dance,” he replies and you snort.

“A cliche.”

“Did you lose your-“ you place the photo back down on the shelf and turn to look at him, wiggling your eyebrows until he grins widely, “-you know, up here?”

He rolls his eyes with a smile and shakes his head. “The back of my old truck.”

“Classic country boy,” you tut with a shake of your head and it’s his turn to laugh now.

Your fingers drag along the shelves, toes curling into the soft carpet and eyes wandering over every little trinket teenage Frankie had collected that glints in the moonlight.

“Come here,” Frankie’s quiet voice drags your attention back to him, his features soft and relaxed with a barely there smile as he holds his hand out towards you.

In a few short steps your thighs are brushing against the side of the mattress, your soft palm sliding against his rough one as he tangles your fingers together and pulls you onto his lap. He lifts your now linked hands to kiss the back of your hand, his other resting on your hip as you settle yourself.

“Are you sure your back will be okay with both of us squeezed in here tonight?” You ask.

The bed is barely a double, big enough for both of you if you’re pressed together all night.

“I’m sure,” Frankie replies quietly and you brush back some of the hair that has fallen across his forehead.

For a while, the only sounds are from the house settling - the creaking stairs and doors that sink to their frame - and your steady breathing as you drag your fingers through his hair all the while he draws deep lines with his palms from your hip to your ribs and back again. You’re not sure how long you spend like this, at some point your head falling to his shoulder and his lips brushing kisses against your forehead.

Slowly, he starts to move his lips across your cheek, towards your jaw and down your neck. Slowly, you start to rock your hips down against his in return.

“Frankie,” you whisper and he nods, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you tight against him.

“Hold on, baby.” It’s a little awkward, there’s some laughter and jumbled limbs as he moves you both until your back is against the mattress and he hovers over you. “There.” He looks down at you, kissing you with the smiles still on both your mouths until he begins to trail them down your neck, pulling your t-shirt down lower and licking along your collarbone before lifting your shirt up and kissing along your stomach.

At some point your underwear is pulled down your legs, your t-shirt thrown on the floor along with his own and his boxers. He’s slowly rocking into you, the bed creaking quietly and your mouths swallowing each other’s groans.

With his hand gripping your thigh, your nails drag down his back and Frankie’s hips slam into yours in return, bitten back groans turning to giggles when your head slams against the headboard.

“Ow.”

“Are you okay?” Frankie asks, pulling back with his brows furrowing down at you and reaching up to rub the top of your head.

“The saying “I want fucked so hard I forget my name” doesn't mean concussion, you know that right?”

Frankie’s body shakes with silent laughter, his weight falling to his elbows and his breath warming your neck.

“News to me,” he mutters around a laugh, before lifting his head and pressing his lips to your forehead. “Better?”

You hum, wrapping your legs higher on his waist and pulling him down against you again.

He starts moving once more, your back arching up against him with your chest pressed against his and his hands sliding between your sweat-slick bodies. In an attempt to muffle your moan you lift your head from the pillow and press your lips to his shoulder, teeth nipping at his skin, and then he thrusts down hard and-

Your head hits the headboard. Again.

“Jesus, Frankie, fuck me,” you mutter and he barks a laugh, dropping his head back to the crook of your neck to muffle the rest of his laughter.

“Already am,” he replies and you swat at his arm.

It’s slow and clumsy, you’re both still smiling and on the edge of laughter when he tips you over the edge and your moans are quiet and light, his body carefully collapsing against yours with his head coming to rest on your chest.

You stay like that, his lips dragging back and forth across your chest and your hands brushing through his hair, until he sits up and pulls you with him.

“I take for granted that I can practically roll from our bed to the bathroom,” you say, reaching for your make-shift pyjamas thrown across the floor, and Frankie swats your ass playfully.

After tip-toeing across the hall and back, you slip into bed in front of Frankie, his chest now bare with his t-shirt left on the floor, the whole front of his body is pressed to your back. He reaches over you and turns the monitor so you both can see Sofia on the screen, sleeping much like her dad does when he has the room to do so - an arm thrown above her head and the other resting on her little chest over her sleeping bag. You say as much and feel Frankie’s smile pressed against your neck, his hand sneaking beneath your t-shirt to rest on your stomach.

“Am I the first person you’ve had in this bed?” You ask and you hear his hair swish against the pillow as he nods. “Your mum would be so proud, waiting until after marriage.”

“You know how the rhyme goes. First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes a baby in a golden carriage. Oh, and then you can share a bed.”

You laugh quietly, pulling Frankie’s arm tighter around you as you nestle back into him.

“I think teenage me would never believe how lucky I get,” he says, squeezing you once.

“I think teenage me would think the same,” you reply.

________________

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#Frankie morales #Frankie morales x female reader #Frankie morales x reader #Frankie morales x y/n #Frankie morales x you #Frankie morales x f!reader

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pimosworld · 2 months

Text

Unrequited

Pairing-Santiago Garcia x f!reader x Frankie Morales

Series Summary-Francisco was always afraid of settling down. He left Santiago to pick up the pieces after Colombia and now someone else is taking his place. Now he must cope with repairing the past without disrupting his future.

CW-18+,MDNI,Angst, Fluff, hurt/comfort, Frankie has a lot of apologies to hand out, lots of food references, fun game of poker and a revelation, more apologies and a proposition.

WC-5.9k

A/N- Happy Frankie Friday, our boy is still going through it a bit but that’s to be expected when you ghost your friends for three years. At least he has Benny for some comedic relief.

[Series Masterlist][Main Masterlist]

Not beta read

Chapter II Pining

verb

gerund or present participle: pining

suffer a mental and physical decline, especially because of a broken heart.

You stretch your sore muscles as best you can with the human weight that is Santiago pressed against you, his arm holding you close even in sleep. You knew he was getting better and that he was starting to get over it but Frankie’s sudden appearance is causing a relapse in his behavior.

The mornings you got out of bed before him or took too long to tell him you were running late from work would be met with his frantic state of mind. Always afraid of being abandoned again, left without a word or goodbye. You assured him as much as you could that you would never do something like that. Months of convincing him to go to counseling was met with short words and utterings of I don’t have a problem. It wasn’t until he’d awoken to you crying and scared one night that he was yelling in his sleep that you were going to leave him that he finally caved and went.

Therapy helped tremendously but you can’t blame him after the harsh words that were spoken last night that he thinks you couldn’t hear. Venomous words spoken between ex lovers, hurt people hurt people.

So you lay here a little longer, waiting for him to stir awake so he doesn’t think you left him. You rub your legs together easing the sore ache from the previous night, trying to ignore your full bladder.

You can feel his lips on the back of your neck, slowly making their way down leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“Good morning baby, how’d you sleep?” He doesn’t answer with words, just hums as he grinds his hips into you. Avoiding the question that you already know the answer to. His hand slides over your stomach, dipping lower before you gently grab his wrist pulling it to your lips as you turn to face him. “As much as I would love to do that again, I really need to pee.”

“Why didn’t you get up?” His sleepy voice cracks a little as he dips his head to kiss your neck. Your nails scratch at his scalp as you card through his salt and pepper curls. You tug on them eliciting a groan from him as he meets your eyes. You trace your thumb along the stubble of his jaw, memorizing every line and scar that you may have missed the last time you looked at him. He’s so distractingly handsome that you almost forgot he asked you a question. One that he already knows the answer to.

“I wanted to wait until you were awake.” You give him a wary smile almost ashamed to admit it, not wanting him to feel bad.

His face drops and he wraps his arms around you, rolling you on top of him until you’re almost falling out of the bed, forced to plant your feet on the cold hardwood floor. He whistles low as you pad to the bathroom, trying not to feel flustered knowing he’s checking you out. It doesn’t matter how long it’s been, he always makes you feel giddy.

When you exit the bathroom he’s propped up on one elbow holding the blanket up so you can join him in the warm confines of your bed. He shudders as your cold hands roam up his toned chest and wrap around his neck.

“You can’t be getting a uti because you’re afraid to wake me up cariño.” He half mumbles into your hair.

You sigh deeply. “I know…I just didn’t want you to wake up and not find me there.”

He kisses your forehead lingering briefly before speaking. “I know you’re worried about me with Frankie being here but I promise I’m okay.” He even thinks he sounds unsure of himself as he says it.

“I know you’re not okay and that’s fine, you just have to remember you’re not doing this alone.”

You’re an enigma, he thinks. How you manage to find the good in all situations. You’re the glass half full to his half empty. He was surviving before he met you and that was fine but he can’t go back to just surviving now that he knows what it’s like to be thriving.

“What did I do to deserve you?” He slides his hands up your back massaging and kneading the stress out of you.

“Mmmm…you’ve had your fair share of things you did to deserve being taken care of.” His stomach grumbles and you both chuckle. “Speaking of that…do you want me to make breakfast?”

“If I ever say no to your food I want you to shoot me.”

****

Frankie didn’t want to get out of bed, the exhaustion had fully settled in and he quickly realized how long it’s been since he actually rested. Constantly trying to stay busy to keep from actually feeling something. The conversation with Santiago had gone in the complete opposite direction he had hoped but he only had himself to blame. He didn’t expect to just waltz back into his life like nothing had happened but you being here was an unexpected surprise and most certainly changed his approach.

He’d never slept in the guest room so it went unnoticed at how beautiful the morning sun looked peaking through the curtains. The orange Santiago had insisted on painting one accent wall compliments it perfectly. It wasn’t until they bought this house that Frankie realized how much Santi cared about interior design. He wanted to tease him about it but opted not to when he saw how relaxed he was deciding on paint colors and furniture.

It’s an odd feeling washing over him as the smell of butter and cinnamon infiltrates his senses. It’s been too long since he’s awoken to the smell of anything other than stale cigarettes and last night's leftovers. He’s kicking the blankets off before he can register and rummaging through his bag for a pair of sweats. He can hear some soft singing coming from the kitchen as he makes his way down the hall. The smell is getting stronger as his stomach rumbles and Santiago comes into view, leaning back in the chair at the kitchen island as he not so subtly watches you retrieve the mystery item from the oven.

The man was always a perv when it came to checking him out and it seems nothing has changed. He can’t really blame him as he takes in your appearance. Another one of Santiago’s shirts adorning your frame and some of the shortest shorts he’s ever seen just barely covering your ass.

“Nice of you to join us.” Santi’s arms are crossed with a slight smirk at catching Frankie ogling you.

“Morning Francisco!” You’re beaming as you wipe your hands on a spare towel and begin to plate what he now sees to be biscuits. “I hope you’re hungry, I made cheddar honey biscuits, bacon and I’m about to start the eggs.” As if you couldn’t get any more perfect.

Santi gestures to the seat next to him and Frankie pulls out the chair, starting to feel a little less like a guest in his own home.

“How do you take your eggs?”

“Over medium” “Over medium”

If the tandem answer bothers you, you don’t show it as you expertly crack an egg into a bowl on the side of the stove and one into the pan. Santi adjusts next to him, seemingly a little flustered attempting to ignore his slip up.

“You don’t have to make-“

“Don’t be a martyr over eggs.” Santi cuts him off before he can finish and you turn, giving him a stern look before whisking the mixture in the bowl.

“At least he doesn’t eat them scrambled like a child.” You mutter under your breath and Frankie tries to hide his smile behind his hands as Santi flips him off.

“I heard that chiquita.” He teases and you shrug as you plate up the rest of Frankie’s food. Retrieving the bacon from the warm oven and setting two hefty biscuits next to it.

Frankie stares at the plate, much like he did last night and he doesn’t even know where to begin. That’s a lie actually, he knows as he dives into the biscuit without another word. The buttery flaky crust with a hint of something sweet hits his senses and he can’t help the moan that escapes him.

He can see your shoulders moving as you laugh and he doesn’t even care with how good this is. Your food is a religious experience that only a chosen few should get to enjoy. As he glances over at Santi eating in silence a tinge of jealousy sparks in him that he gets to indulge in this all the time. You,this food,this life. For now Frankie has to live with the choices he made.

“Don’t be shy Frankie there’s plenty more.” You politely cover your mouth while you eat your breakfast and somehow finish cleaning the mess in a matter of minutes.

Frankie leans back in his chair rubbing his belly unashamed. Santi glances over noticing the way he looks so content and a slight gleam in his eye. “So does this guy do anything around here?”

Santi stands from his chair gathering both of their plates. “I provide other services.” He kisses you on the cheek as you playfully swat at him. “I also wash the dishes.”

“You own a dishwasher.”

“Frankie I don’t make the rules, I just do what the lady asks.” Of course Santiago doesn’t notice that this is the first time he’s used his name, not his government name or his call sign or the dreaded name he gets when people are mad at him but his chosen name. Frankie watches you both as you exchange subtle glances, some unspoken language between the two of you that he used to understand but it’s been too long.

Without words Santi is grabbing things from the fridge and setting them out on the counter for you as you retrieve some bowls from the cabinet. You’re filling a large pot with water as Santi returns to his seat at the island having fulfilled his duties of making piles of unfinished ingredients on the table.

“How much time do I have?”

“We don’t have to be at Wills until one so don’t rush cariño.” Santi says as Frankie gives him a quizzical look. “Barbecue…you’re going.”

Frankie tries to school the expression on his face into a neutral one as his stomach drops. He knew he needed to talk to all of them eventually, but he didn’t anticipate it being his second day back. He knows he can’t avoid the conversation forever and the sooner he rips the band aid the better. There’s too much weighing on his shoulders that he needs to get off so they can all live better lives. At least Frankie hopes after he talks to them that they are appreciative and see all he’s done to get back in their good graces.

“If I don’t make this pasta salad Benny will kill me.” He realizes after a moment that you’re speaking to him and he can’t wipe this dumb look off his face.

“Well if it’s anything like I’ve had already I can see why he’s obsessed.” You smile up at him as you chop some bell peppers with perfect precision. He’s not sure how you’ve not cut yourself as he looks from your eyes to the cutting board, but it’s almost reminiscent of how he feels when he’s flying; effortless.

Frankie finally breaks your gaze as you turn around to pour the pasta in the boiling water. Santi’s eyes bore into him as he leans back in his chair with his arms crossed. Santiago was never good at subtlety, especially when it came to his outward appearance. If he had to title this one it would read if you keep flirting with her I’ll smother you with a pillow.

****

The three of you are in Santi’s Jeep on the way to Will's house. You insisted after going back and forth with Frankie to the point of awkwardness that he sit in front. You hilariously and completely ended the argument when you sat in the back and shrugged your shoulders knowing Santi would riot if he was made out to be some chauffeur with you both in the back.

The car smells divine…you managed to make two types of salad, some cupcakes and those cookies he can’t stop thinking about. Frankie’s recently caught wondering how Santi is still in such good shape with the way you cook. He watches the way his muscles strain against the black tee shirt as he shifts gears. The way his jeans fit his thighs just right as he-

“Something on your mind Fish?” He’s been caught this time and it certainly won’t be the last time.

Frankie’s eyes meet yours in the rearview mirror. “Nothing…Just wondering how you still have a waistline when you live with Julia Child.”

You laugh and bite down on your lip to stop it from bubbling over in full blown hysterics. Frankie looks away but you don’t miss the way he smiles as his tongue pokes out from between his teeth.

Frankie stares out the window, something blooming in his stomach at the way he made you laugh again. It’s infectious and at this point he doesn’t even care…he knows full well that if he looks to his left he’ll see the second chapter of Santi’s death glare titled keep it up and I’ll crash this car.

****

It’s not a far drive to Will's house, but there was no way they were walking in the Florida heat with all this food in tow. Frankie swallows hard as Santi makes the last turn down their street. He has seen this house many times, it still sits beautifully at the end of the block nestled among two live oak trees in the front yard. The most unique house on the block and the largest backyard. He helped Benny and Will look for it so they could all be close to each other. The plan fell into place just before they left for Colombia. They closed on the house one month before leaving and for that Frankie is relieved to see all was not lost in that jungle.

He rubs his clammy hands along his jeans as Santi parks the car in the long driveway. He waits for a moment as you both exit the car to gather the supplies. He wants to get in the driver's seat and head home or maybe just get out and walk straight to the airport. Anything to avoid the possible rejection he faces when he walks into Wills backyard to see his best friends brothers again.

The passenger side door is opened for him and you’re standing there expectantly with your hand out. “He said you might need some help.”

It feels childish and yet he needs it all the same as he takes your hand in his and steps out of the Jeep. It’s so small in his as you lace your fingers and pull him to the front door instead of the side gate to spare him a brief moment to gather his thoughts. He lets you lead as he tries not to step on your feet that need a few more strides than him as you approach the large wooden door.

The house is pristine and cozy on the inside as you enter. Santiago’s in the open concept kitchen putting away all the goods you made as Frankie looks around for anyone else. You squeeze his hand once before letting go to join him in the kitchen.

“Ben already took the pasta salad so that’s as good as gone.” Santiago says as he cracks open a beer and hands it to Frankie. Anything to take the edge off.

“I’m gonna go find Emma babe.” You kiss Santi on the cheek as you exit the kitchen leaving the two men alone.

Frankie’s eyes go wide as you shriek from the patio and Santi laughs. “Put me down Ben!”

Bennys voice is carried away with the sound of the music over the outside speakers. “Not a chance sweetheart.”

Santi nods to Frankie as he takes a huge swig of his beer. “Let’s head outside before she kills him.”

****

“Nice to finally meet you Frankie.” Will’s wife Emma is just as he pictured. Tall brunette with perfect hair and an even more perfect smile. She’s been kind enough to show him around the house and the yard as a means of distraction from the not so warm welcome he got from Will.

“It’s nice to meet you too.” He sounds like a kid that just got scolded for stealing as he removes his hat and scrubs his fingers through his hair. Emma’s showing him the room Benny is in. He spent what little money he had to open his own gym so they’re graciously letting him stay to save some money. Frankie feels particularly guilty about that right now but soon that will change.

“The office will hopefully be a nursery soon.” She turns to him offering a genuine smile. “Then we’ll have a live-in babysitter.”

“I’m hoping you don’t mean Benny.” Frankie chides as she throws her head back and laughs.

“He’s not all that bad and he could do with some practice.” Emma motions with her hands as she finishes the tour and Frankie feels like he’s having some sort of out of body experience. Walking through the home that he helped pick out so that Will could start a family. Everyone was doing exactly what they set out to do and Frankie was just…idling.

“Frankie?” She’s staring at him now, nearly eye to eye with him as she places her hand gently on his elbow so as not to startle him. He supposed she’s used to dealing with spooked vets by now. It’s almost like approaching a caged animal. “He’ll come around…I know he loves you, he just needs some time.”

Frankie’s too embarrassed to ask if she means Santi or Will so he just nods and says ‘thank you’.

****

Frankie’s on his second helping of pasta salad as he sits at a table with the guys and some of Benny's friends from the gym listening to Santi drone on about his security consulting business. Of course Santiago found a way to travel around telling other people how to do their job.

Frankie looks up from his plate to see Will staring daggers at him. He’s a coward to look away but he’s not ready to face that scrutiny. It’s not much better as his line of vision drifts to you and Emma laying out by the pool talking and laughing. The sun is beating down on his neck as a bead of sweat trickles down his spine. You roll to your front on the lounger and untie the strings of your top. The white bikini already left little to the imagination and now he can just barely see the soft curve of your breast as you adjust to get comfortable.

“They’re perfect aren’t they. ” Frankie nearly jumps out of his skin at the sound of Ben’s voice in his ear.

“What?!”

“Emma and Will…I saw her giving you a tour earlier.” Ben winks at him as he steals a bite from Frankie’s plate. Frankie starts to speak but Ben cuts him off and leans in closer. “I know everyone has already given you enough shit so I’m not going to. I just hope you’re here to stay.”

“I am.” Frankie says it a little louder than he intended and he can feel Will and Santi’s eyes on him. The mindless chatter amongst the table has continued but the four of them are waiting on a limb as Frankie realizes this is the first time he’s actually said it. “I’m making plans to stay.”

Santi raises his eyebrows in surprise as Will finally speaks. “You gonna find a flying gig?”

Frankie doesn’t really need to work but he supposes he’ll go crazy if he doesn’t find something to occupy his mind. “I don’t know yet but I’ve got some money saved until I figure it out.” He takes a sip of his beer to disguise the little white lie.

Ben slaps him on the back and he splutters his beer. “You can come help me at the gym.” Ben’s shadow boxing him as he tries to clear his throat. “Let’s see if this old man can still spar with the great Benjamin Miller.” His friends at the table roll their eyes along with the rest at his large ego.

Frankie points the butt of his empty bottle at the younger man. “Ben, I can still kick your ass.”

“Is that so?”

Frankie nods slowly.

“I don’t think he can climb a flight of fucking stairs.” Will's voice cuts in and the table goes silent. There’s a slight smirk on his face as Benny erupts in laughter next to him. Santi drops his head to the table as the rest of the men join in and for a fleeting moment it all feels like it used to.

****

The parties died down a bit and it’s just the guys left while you and Emma say your goodbyes. The boys are staying for poker and that will give Frankie the perfect opportunity to talk to them. He’s not sure how much longer he could hold it in.

“Are you sure you’ll be fine walking home?” You approach Santi and the guys around the kitchen island.

“They’ll both survive.” Will answers for him as he finishes the dishes in the sink.

“Cariño please don’t wait up for me this time.” Santi says through gritted teeth as he pulls you into a hug, kissing you on the cheek. Ben steps up behind him making mock kissing gestures and Will grabs him by the collar dragging him off to the garage.

Frankie awkwardly starts to walk away and leave you two alone when you call out to him.

“Francisco Morales…make sure he doesn’t gamble all his money away.” It’s said in jest as you gather your things to leave.

“I’ll do my best, hermosa but I make no promises.”

Frankie’s sure you don’t notice the slip up as you wave them goodbye and exit the front door. Heat creeps up his neck and he doesn’t even want to look Santi in the eyes.

“Hermosa hmmm?” Santi nods his head toward the garage door and steps beside him. “I see you still get flustered when beautiful people use your full name.”

Frankie follows closely behind as he breathes out through his nose.

This was going to be a very long night.

****

They’ve got him all wrong.

What started out as a fun game of poker quickly became a tense game of figuring out what Frankie’s play was. They’ve wrongly mistaken his nervous face for a poker face and everyone keeps folding.

Just spit it out

Frankie’s sitting here in Will's converted three car garage. Half of it was a shop to work on his motorcycle and whatever project his mind needed to keep him occupied. The other half is almost an exact replica of their favorite bar, all the way down to the teak wood flooring and an old school saloon type dresser with a roll top bar in front. He’s been trying to admire all the work he’s put in. The pool table and matching poker table just add to the charm.

You’re stalling

“Fish, what’s your move?” Santiago’s voice is dripping with annoyance as Will stares down his cards like they’re going to change suits right in front of him.

He stares down at his hand and the pile of chips in front of him. He actually has a good hand this time, three of a kind and pocket aces.

It’s not about the money

“All in.” He pushes his chips in the middle while Santi and Will quickly follow suit. Benny scoffs from behind the bar as he pours himself another beer having lost all his chips ages ago.

“You losers are gonna fall for it again?”

“Who are you calling a loser?” Will chides the younger man as Santi laughs behind his cards.

“I can read this pendejo like a book…he doesn’t have shit.” Santi says the last part playfully but the first part used to ring true.

Frankie lays down his cards and Will curses under his breath and throws his face down. Bennys laughing to himself over in the corner but Santiago’s grin is deepening by the second. It takes more muscles to frown, which is why he thinks Santi has such strong features. When he smiles though…it almost knocks him off his feet.

A trickle of sweat runs down Frankie’s back as Will raises an eyebrow at Santi. He leans back in his chair crossing his arms. “Let’s see ‘em Pope.”

Money,Money,Money

Ten,Jack,Queen,King,Ace. Each flick of his wrist and the sound of the cards on the table as Santiago draws out his torture echo in the room. He leans in dramatically, dragging all the chips to sit in front of him. The sound of Benny whooping behind him and Will’s slow clap is drowned out by the ringing in his ears as he stares at the Royal Flush in the suit of hearts. Okay karma,you made your point.

“I went back for the money.”

He knew there was no right way to drop this kind of bomb on them. Judging by the silence in the room, perhaps there was a wrong way.

It’s so quiet you can hear the rustling of the chips settled in front of Santi falling by the wayside.

Will locks eyes with Frankie as he leans back in his chair. The weight of what he just said hits him like a ton of bricks.

“So we’re rich.” Ben’s voice cuts through the silence as he pours himself another drink.

“Ben, are you kidding me!” Will goes to stand as Santi lays a gentle hand on him urging him backwards.

As crass as it may sound coming out of the younger man’s mouth he couldn’t hide from it anymore. “Ya Ben, we’re rich.”

“Why?” Santi sounds calmer than he would’ve imagined after being silent for so long. He expected a fight from him, yelling and cursing. Frankie’s brain is doing somersaults trying to keep up with his emotions. Did he want Santi to yell? To tell him he was wrong for putting his life in danger.

Maybe there’s some weird fucked of part of Frankie that wants to be treated like a martyr so he can justify all the shit he’s put them through these last few years. Or maybe it’s just hard for him to realize that Santi was capable of changing for the right person.

“I did it for you…for us.” Frankie corrects although he’s not sure why. He could be nothing but honest in front of the men he risked his life for.

Santi huffs a laugh as he shifts in his seat to look at Frankie. He picks up a stray chip rolling it on top of his fingers, some nervous tick he picked up during their army days. “You sure you didn’t do it for you.” There he is.

“What the fucks that suppposed to mean.” Frankie bites out ready for a fight. The fight he’s wanted since he landed here, back home.

“You’re gonna tell me that you didn’t go on some suicide mission without telling us…” He takes a moment to calm his breathing and lower his voice. “You did this so you could come back with something. To show us that you didn’t just leave everything for no reason. That you didn’t walk away from the best thing in your life because you got scared.” He tosses the chip and it lands in front of Frankie as Ben whistles low under his breath.

Santiago always had a way with words. He could rally the team when they were feeling down or nervous about a mission. He could convince higher ups to do things for him and make it seem like it was their idea to begin with. He could charm the pants off anyone he laid his sights to for one night or wax poetic to the love of his life.

He could also make his words cut like a knife. Those same words could make any bullet Frankie’s ever taken feel like a bee sting in comparison. If Frankie wanted him to see that he’s changed he was going to half to meet him more than half way. He’s wounded and hurt, absolutely incapable of seeing anything besides what he’s been through the last three years.

“You’re right.” Foreign words leave his lips not often spoken to the man with the ego the size of Texas. Frankie scrubs his jaw, kneading his fingers in that spot of patchy beard. “You’re right Santiago, I didn’t want to come back empty handed with nothing to show for myself. I felt like a failure after Colombia.”

“We all did.” Will cuts in as he slaps his hand down on the table. Loose chips falling to the floor.

Frankie lets out a long sigh. “I know man…I don’t mean.” Frankie underestimated how much damage he had done. Not just to Santi but to everyone. “I’m sorry. This was the only way I knew how to apologize, even if it comes off wrong I don’t regret one second of it. We all deserve this money and you know that.” He points at Will before continuing. “You can be mad at me all you want, I'm not running this time. I’m gonna stay and fix this even if it takes me the rest of my life.”

Santi stands abruptly, saluting Ben and squeezing Will's shoulder as he exits the garage.

Will slides the small notepad for scratch paper towards him, scribbling down some numbers. He clicks the pen and tosses the notepad to Frankie as he stands from the poker table. “I suppose this is my fault.”

Frankie tilts his head in question.

“I gave those coordinates to Pope.” He clicks his tongue as he rests his hands on the table next to him, eyes drawing up in mischief. “But he told me he lost them.”

Frankie stares down at a long list of numbers. “What’s this?”

“My banking info.” Will looks at him then a little more tired behind the eyes than he’s ever seen. “I love you Fish, he loves you too.” Will slaps him on the back and exits the garage leaving Frankie with the younger Miller.

Frankie doesn’t turn around but he can picture Ben behind him. “Goodnight Ben, my favorite and only brother in the world. I love you soooo much.” He’s definitely miming with his hands. “Goodnight Will, even though you’re a pain in my ass I wouldn’t know what to do without you.”

Frankie laughs a little bit. It's short lived as a cold piece of ice hits the back of his neck running down his shirt right into the open crack of his jeans.

“What the fuck Ben!” Frankie turns in his seat to see him crunching on some ice. He narrowly misses another piece thrown at his head.

“I want my money by tomorrow.” He does his worst impression of a mobster as he leaves Frankie alone in the garage.

****

Santi sits on the curb in front of Will’s house as he hangs his head in his hands. Thankfully for him it’s a decently cool night compared to the awful humidity he’s usually subjected too. He often wonders why they all settled here instead of somewhere off the grid. It’s comforting in a sense, it feels like home.

It’s tearing him up inside holding onto all this anger for Frankie when he really just wants to tell him he loves him. He thought he would feel better after getting it all out, finally laying down his cards so to speak. It brewed somewhere underneath for all those years and as cathartic as it was to say it out loud it didn’t change what happened.

Now he’s left seemingly with everything he could possibly want and he feels numb.

Santi hears the front door close softly behind him as Frankie makes his way down the path. He doesn’t want to argue anymore, he just wants to let this all go and finally live a peaceful life with enough money to make sure he’ll never have to sweat again.

“I don’t want to fight with you anymore.” He looks up to Frankie holding out his hand to help him off the curb. “Please forgive me.” His soft brown eyes look down at him. The ones he could never resist even if he tried.

He accepts his hand as he hoists him off the ground dusting off his jeans. “I forgave you a long time ago Fish.I had to for my own sanctity.”

If it’s a misstep he doesn’t correct himself. Sanity or sanctity aside, he knows hating someone for that long will eat you alive. “I would not be capable of loving her the way that I do, if I had not forgiven you.”

“Do you still love me?” Frankie asks, as selfish as it may be. Not entirely sure of what answer he’s expecting.

He’s backlit by the street lamps creating a soft halo around his brown and graying curls. Santiago has pictured them doing this walk so many times in his dreams. Moving here to start a life with him, walking home after a long day of hanging out with their brothers to head home and curl up in the soft sheets of the master bedroom.

“I never stopped loving you.” Frankie takes his hand then and he doesn’t pull away. “I never could even if I tried.”

Santi’s trying not to get choked up as he stares at their hands. Frankie grips his chin tilting it up towards him but he abruptly pulls away.

“I thought you said-“

“I know what I said. I love you.” He gestures between them. “But this…can’t happen without her.”

Frankie’s nostrils flare as he gives him an aporetic look.

“Don’t give me that shit Frankie, I see the way you look at her.”

“Looking isn’t illegal.” His possessiveness over someone that doesn’t belong to him comes out harsher than he intended.

“No you’re right it’s not, but you can’t have your cake and eat it too.” Santi spits back at him as he glances over at the house that’s no longer Will’s. “Let’s keep moving.”

Santi gets two steps ahead before Frankie yanks his arm back bringing him face to face. Daring him to call his bluff.

“Isn’t that what you’re telling me…that I can have my cake and eat it too.” His body’s pressed against his, they’re so close he can breathe his air as he practically spits fire.

“Yes Francisco, that’s what I’m telling you.” He gently prys Frankie’s hand from his arm putting some space between them. “But I’m not doing it behind her back.”

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melodygatesauthor · 1 year

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Worth the Risk - Part 1: The Dishwasher

bfd!Santiago "Pope" Garcia X f!Reader

Series Masterlist - AO3 LINK

Summary

You're visiting your home town on college break and you are staying overnight at your best friend's house. You never realized how attractive her dad was until that night. You wonder if he feels the same.

Tags/Warnings

NSFW, forbidden relationship, reader is in her 20s, best friend's dad!Santi, Santiago is a dirty man y'all, not much else to say, smut, depraved, corruption kink

Word Count: 3.7k

Also, this tied in with a request from @romanarose <3 thank you bb for requesting!

“It’s been so long.” You said, wrapping your arms around your friend tightly.

You took in her smell, so happy to see her again after so much time had gone by. It had only been a few months, but it felt like years sometimes.

“I know!” She yelled in your ear before pulling back to look you up and down. “How have you been?”

You sighed, “I’ve been pretty good, wanted to make sure I came to see you for the night before going back to school.”

“I’m sorry about Cody.” She gave you a sympathetic look.

“It’s fine I-” you started, but then you caught her father out of the corner of your eye.

“Hey…!” Mr. Garcia said, coming up behind Maria with a smile

“Hey Mr. Garcia.” You said, wrapping your arms around him.

“How long is it going to take for you to start calling me Santi? Or at least Santiago?” He smirked. “You make me feel old.”

“You are old, dad.” Maria said, chuckling. “Come on, let’s go to my room.” Your friend grabbed your hand and tugged you along.

Goodness you’ve grown, Santi thought, watching you run off with Maria. Over the last couple years, since you’d started going to college, your schedule didn’t line up with the times Maria had been at his house, and he hadn’t seen you in a long time. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

Maria’s room hadn’t changed since you last saw it. It was still pink and bubbly, matching her personality perfectly. You always thought she had the coolest window, fit with a reading nook and big sheer curtains. You sat down on her bed, dropped your duffle bag on the floor, and she went to her desk, opening her laptop. She put on some pop music in the background and then turned to you.

“So, spill it, what happened with Cody?” She asked, giving you a devilish smirk. “Tell me all the dirty details. I wanna know how you fucked him over.”

You rolled your eyes. “I already told you over the phone. He cheated on me.” You sighed, “can we please just not do this right now? I…I don’t really wanna talk about him. He’s a loser.”

“With his ex? What’s her name?” You watched her open a browser and get onto her social media account.

“I really don’t want to do this Maria, can we just forget about it? Please?” You begged.

She looked at you, her eyes said she was ignoring your request to stop and wanted you to tell her anyway, but eventually she gave up, closing the browser.

“You’re so boring. Fine.” She groaned. “So other than that, what have you been up to?”

You told her everything you’d done over the last few months. You talked about your parents, any cute professors you had, and new friends you’d met. The conversation moved on to her talking about a new guy she met at her school. She’d stayed more local than you had, but you were only a few hours away. She then told you about how she was madly in love with him before she got on talking about how annoying her father could be.

“You know how he is. When the guy came over for dinner the other night dad got all, you’d better take good care of her.” She scoffed. “He’s such an old man.”

“He just worries about you.” You reminded her. “And he’s not that old. My dad is old.” You chuckled. “Your dad is like forty.”

“Yeah.” She said looking at you incredulously, “old.”

“Girls! Come on down, it’s time for dinner!” He called up.

You followed Maria down the stairs and to the kitchen. Santi always made the best meals when you would come over during your high school days, and now was no different. You sat down to his right and thanked him for dinner, a soft smirk spread across his lips. You took a sip of your water.

Santiago tried to keep his eyes on your face, but your tank top left little to the imagination. Weren’t you too young to be dressing like that? No, of course not, you were an adult now. His throat bobbed when he gulped, blinking and trying to peel his gaze away from the beautiful way your breasts pushed together. Were you even wearing a bra? Did he forget to turn the heat up?

“Dad?”

You saw Santi visibly jump when he looked over at Maria. Had he been staring at you? You didn’t realize until you looked up and thought you’d seen his eyes on you. Heat rose to your cheeks.

“Yeah baby?” He asked, raising his eyebrows toward Maria.

“Can you pass the butter?” He sucked in a deep breath, “yeah, here you go.” He handed it to her. “So…” he said your name, “Maria tells me that you’re going through a breakup?” He raised his dark brows when he looked at you.

“Um…” You felt awkward talking about it in front of him. You didn’t know why she always had to make your business everyone’s business. “Yeah. I’d rather not talk about it though.”

“Those boys your age are the worst. Trust me.” He bit into his food, and you did the same.

You smirked, “yeah, I think the next guy I date should be someone older. I’m sick of boys.”

Santi almost choked on his food, having to remind himself to chew before he swallowed his piece of steak whole. He passed a glance at you, your eyes met. You could see what was happening. It had never occurred to you, having an interest in your best friend’s dad, but he was very handsome. You licked your lips before breaking eye contact and looking back down at your plate.

Maria took the conversation away, going on about her new business class, which she hadn’t had a chance to tell you about earlier. Neither you or Santiago were listening. You were thinking about this weird feeling you had. You’d never thought about him like that before, but now you were remembering all the times you’d seen him at the pool, or coming out of the shower with nothing but a towel around his waist.

Mr. Garcia…

At some point during the meal, you looked over and noticed Santi looking at you, and you quickly looked away, not sure what he was looking at you for. There was no way that he felt the same, right? This was just a silly crush forming, nothing serious. This was one of those things that young adults did right? It was just foolish.

You gulped down some more water, trying to clear your thoughts, but then clumsily dropped it on the table, and the water trailed off into Santi’s lap.

“Shit.” You muttered, grabbing your napkin and quickly rushing over.

You had been so worried about the fact that you spilled the liquid on him, that you didn’t think about how inappropriate it probably was to be patting your friend’s dad’s thigh. Santi was in shock, sitting there immobile at your quick hands patting over his lap in repetition. His thoughts were dirty, filthy even. You were so sweet, not realizing the effect you had on him at that moment.

All at once you felt the heat rise to your cheeks and you dropped the towel in his lap.

“I’m-uh-I’m really sorry.” You stepped back, finally realizing the awkwardness you’d caused.

“No it’s…” He caught your gaze with an intense stare. “It’s fine.” His eyes lingered on yours for a second too long before he looked back down at his lap. “I’m gonna go change.” He dropped the towel on the table.

“Mr. Gar-I mean, Santi, I’m really-”

“It’s fine, it’s just water. Maria, clean up please.” He stood up and rushed away quickly.

He ran to his room and slammed the door behind him, pressing his back to the wall. His breathing was staggered and heavy. He locked the door and unbuttoned his wet pants. When you’d spilled the water and then rushed over, pressing your hands and towel to his thigh, you’d brushed up along his cock. He always thought you were a pretty girl, but he also always stopped it at that. Any further thought would have been downright inappropriate.

He couldn’t help himself now though. He pulled down his boxer-briefs and jeans and stepped out of them. His cock was aching, standing erect, already leaking from the head. His hand fisted around it. You’d hardly touched him, but then again, it had been so long since he’d felt anyone’s grip besides his own. He spit into his hand, lubricating his palm so it would glide over the length of his member. For a second he thought about you, and how much he’d love to feel you-

“Fuck.” He said to himself alone.

He removed his hand from himself, and stood there for a while letting his cock soften. He couldn’t go on thinking like that. He couldn’t possibly imagine himself jerking to completion at the thought of his daughter’s best friend. Yes, you were an adult, but you were so much younger than him, it wasn’t right. He couldn’t bear what his daughter would think\ if she found out. She would hate him. Not to mention, a girl like you, who looked the way you did, probably wouldn’t even be interested in someone like him, nevermind the fact that he was your friend’s dad.

“I’m gonna go check on him.” Maria said to you when Santi had been gone for quite some time. “Do you mind putting the dishes in the dishwasher? You can come up to my room when you’re done.”

“Yeah sure.” You said, starting to clear the table.

He was changed and in the hall by the time Maria came up. He asked where you were, and she told him you were loading the dishwasher. All too eagerly, he trekked down the stairs and headed for the kitchen. He was prepared to tell you that you didn’t have to finish and you could go right up to hang out with Maria, but when he saw you, or rather, your prominent rear, he couldn’t speak.

You were bent down, the bottoms of your cheeks were peeking out through the hem of your shorts. He ran a hand over his mouth while he stared shamelessly at you. The work he’d done to focus his cock into softening was all for nothing now. You were really testing his self control.

When you spun around, you saw Santi standing there. He jumped nearly five feet when you saw him, and you did the same. You grabbed the kitchen counter and breathed heavily.

“Jesus, Santi, I didn’t see you there.” You chuckled nervously. “You scared the shit out of me.”

He chuckled too, “likewise. You don’t have to do that, the dishes, I can finish up. Maria always finds a way to get out of doing the shit I ask her to.”

“Oh, it’s not a problem.” You said turning back around, slowly bending over and then standing to lift the dishwasher door closed. You were playing with fire. “Just tell me what button to-”

You felt his chest nearly touching you. He was close enough that the fabric of his shirt could be felt on the back of your bare arms. He reached over from behind you and pushed the buttons on the dishwasher to start it. You turned around, Santi was standing close to you. Your heart was thumping in your ears, deafening you.

Santiago looked down at your perfect chest, tits perky, nipples nearly grazing his shirt. You leaned in, he started leaning too. His fingers brushed over your cheek and he reached his hand behind the back of your head.

You heard your name called over the top of the stairs, “...are you coming?”

Santiago let out a sigh of defeat, and so did you. He dropped his arm to his side.

“I-I’d better go.” You breathed heavily, staring up at Santi’s eyes for a second before skirting around him and heading to the stairs.

What the fuck are you doing Santi? He asked himself.

Just ten minutes ago he had given himself a pep-talk about letting those thoughts go. When he saw your delicious ass on display when he came down those stairs though, he’d lost all semblance of reason. This wasn’t like him, but…you were looking at him like that, you were bending over like that.

Your brain was a mess while Maria rambled to you. You thought you were out of your mind when you scrambled to clean the water off of Santi’s lap at dinner and he looked into your eyes. You’d thought for sure that you made up the connection he had with you, but now you were certain. He was into you. There was no other reason for him to have been staring at you like that right? If he had just come down the stairs, he wouldn’t have jumped when you turned around, he’d been looking at you. Further, he had no reason to come up behind you like that to start the dishwasher, chest brushing against your spine. He’d leaned in, almost kissing you, right?

There was only one real way to confirm. It was eleven on the dot, and Maria was snoring to your left. You silently got out of her bed and left the room. You couldn’t be so bold as to go knocking on his bedroom door, you had to be more careful than that. Your throat felt a little dry, so you thought about getting a glass of water.

You couldn’t believe you were actually doing this in the hopes that Santiago Garcia, your best friend’s dad, would come down there and fuck you senseless. Surely you were mistaken. The more you thought about it, the more foolish it started to sound. That is, until you had a half full glass of water and a daring hand snaking around your hip.

He’d heard you sneak from Maria’s bedroom, and hoped that by making his move you wouldn’t scream or push him away. It was possible that you were into it, that you were just as desperate as he was. If that were the case, it wouldn’t be hard to just keep this little thing a secret, if that’s what he had to do to have you, even if only for one night.

“Having a hard time sleeping?” He asked, lips against your neck.

You gulped, letting out a short breath. “Y-yes.” You said softly.

His cock was pressing against your rear in a gentle churning motion, just enough to feel some friction. You didn’t move, you didn’t dare. Part of you was still trying to comprehend that this was real, and that your friend’s dad really wanted you. When you thought about him, his eyes, his lips, he was so good looking, you realized that you really did want him. That’s why you went down there in the first place, right? You put the glass down on the counter and gripped the granite surface for support.

“You can push me away. I know this is wrong.” He whispered.

“Mr. Garcia…” You said breathlessly.

All the times he told you to call him Santi, he had done it for Maria’s sake. He always loved hearing you call him Mr. Garcia. Maybe it was some weird kink in his head, but it made his cock pulsate with a fierce need whenever you said it.

His hand, large against your abdomen, trekked down into your shorts, you were soaked. He circled over your clitoris. You’d never been with someone his age, but you’d heard that older men knew what they were doing. His left hand reached up and cupped your breast.

“Did you forget your bra sweetheart?” He continued his circling motion around your sensitive bundle of nerves.

“N-no, I…oh…I didn’t wear one on purpose.” You said in a playful tone.

He snickered, “of course you didn’t, such a tease.”

He rutted his hips against you. There was still part of him telling him how wrong this was, but it felt so good he couldn’t stop himself. His middle finger slipped into the folds of your cunt, immediately drowning in the juices that had been leaking there since putting the dishes away. The way he kissed your neck, and the way his finger worked into you made you wish you’d slept with more men his age.

“You really know what you’re doing…” You said in between your needy panting.

“Yes, hermosa, I’ll take care of you.”

You threw your head back against his shoulder and gripped the edge of the counter so hard your knuckles ached. His lips latched on to your throat, sucking the skin there tenderly. You felt another one of his thick fingers slip into your hole, pumping in and out of you. You were trying to keep yourself from making too much noise, but it felt too good.

“Sh, you want us to get caught?” He said through clenched teeth.

“No Mr. Garcia.” You managed to choke out.

“Then you’d better learn to keep that pretty little mouth quiet cariño.”

He was fingering you fast now, so fast that you were struggling to hold on to the countertop anymore and so you let go, allowing his strong arms to keep you in place. You felt full, but not full enough. You wanted more. You needed more.

“I want you to fuck me Mr. Garcia, please.” You begged. “Fuck me.”

Though he was thoroughly enjoying fingering you, he was glad you said something, because he was seconds from losing it in his sweats, and he would rather lose himself in your sweet cunt. He turned you around to the island counter and bent you over the granite. You quickly pulled your shorts down around your thighs, and you felt his thick cock as he wasted no time readying it at your hole.

“Are you sure about this sweetheart?” He asked, holding the head there at your entrance.

“Yes, please, I need it.” You said desperately.

“It might hurt a little, just say something if it does, ok?” He pressed a hand over your back and then pushed himself through until his hips were flush against your rear.

You reached and grabbed the other side of the island counter for stability.

“That’s a good girl, just hold on tight like that.” He brought both of his hands down to land a bruising grip on your hips.

“S-Santi.” You moaned, “You’re so big, holy-”

It wasn’t painful, and it felt good to have him gliding over your walls. He looked down, reveling in the way your hole split over his cock. He grunted, thrusting into you, his skin slapped against your rear. Nothing had ever felt like you did, so warm, so tight, it didn’t even matter to him that you were his kid’s friend anymore. He just wanted to hear you screaming his name until you could hardly breathe.

“Fuck, cariño, you have such a nice little pussy. So wet and ready for me. Have you been thinking about me all night?” He said in a whisper between his deep moans.

“Y-yes.” You admitted. “I wanted to feel your cock Mr. Garcia.”

“Of course you did sweetheart.” His thrusts were getting faster. “Is that why you bent over doing those dishes like that? Huh? Were you hoping your best friend’s dad would come down the stairs and catch you shaking your ass like a little tease?”

“Fuck, yes.” You felt your core heating as your climax closed in.

“You’re such a naughty little girl, gonna fill you with my cum sweetheart.” His thrusting became jagged and stuttering, and his breathing turned into hushed grunts as he started to shoot his hot ropes into you.

“Yes…” You said, feeling your own orgasm peak.

You gushed over him, cunt squeezing the life from his hard length. It was hard to keep quiet, despite knowing you should. Maria was right upstairs and as long as she was still sleeping, she wouldn’t have heard your whimpering cries while your pussy contracted over her dad’s thick cock. She wouldn’t have heard your cracked voice say his name like a prayer while your knuckles strained over the countertop.

He stepped back, letting his cock and cum spill out of you. You heard some shuffling and then felt him using a towel to clean your cunt and your thighs.

“Squeeze it out for me sweetheart.” He demanded.

You did, feeling gobs of hot white ejaculate falling out into the paper towel Santi held between your thighs. Your legs were still shaking while you held on to the granite tightly. You couldn’t believe you had actually done that with him. It’s not like you hadn’t had the opportunity to do it many times during visits before, this time was different though, this time he had been so bold and desperate. He was irresistible.

“There’s a good girl.” He said as he finished cleaning you up.

You pulled your shorts up and turned to him. His face was flush with color, curls disheveled. He placed a soft kiss on your lips. His eyes looked at you with a near drunken hooded gaze. You wished that you could be held now, even for a few moments before having to leave, but you knew your time together was over, for now.

“Run to bed now.” He said.

When you turned, you were met with a quick smack on your rear before you bounded over the stairs to join your friend in her bed once again. You could only hope, with breath-stilling anticipation, that you would get to spend more time with him again some day.

Part 2

Triple Frontier Masterlist

bfd!Santi Masterlist

AO3 LINK:

TAGLIST (please let me know if you would like to be added or removed): @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction, @my-secret-shame, @thatmomwitchfriend, @alexxavicry, @welcometostayingawake, @jake-g-lockley, @campingwiththecharmings, @steven-grants-world, @lia275, @minigirl87, @ahookedheroespureheart, @in-between-the-cafes

#triple frontier #santiago garcia #santiago pope garcia #triple frontier fanfiction #santiago garcia x reader #santi x reader #santiago #garcia #santiago garcia x you #santi garcia x reader #santi garcia x you #santiago garcia smut #santi garcia smut #bfd!santiago garcia

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starstruckunknown-princess · 1 month

Text

Yarrow - Santiago "Pope" Garcia x Reader

Yarrow (Achillea) - Meaning: Cure for a broken heart, healing

Summary: After a humiliating trip and fall when you find your boyfriend cheating, you call Santi for a ride home.

Pairing: Santiago "Pope" Garcia x Reader

Word Count: 1205

Warnings: Mentions of infidelity, language, reader has a broken wrist in a cast but is otherwise not described, bit of a clueless/hopelessly in love situation, snuggling

Day 8! My word count is creeping up and up the last few days...not sure what that's about. I'm also sick and really tired so forgive any errors.

In Bloom Masterlist

Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are appreciated! <3

“So…you gonna tell me what happened?” Santi asked, pulling the car out of the ER parking lot after picking you up. It was late, and raining, and you’d been there for hours so you were beyond ready to get home. At least the pain in your arm was dulled by the meds.

Your head rested heavily against the window of his pickup. The painkillers were making your eyelids droop, and the situation was embarrassing enough without reliving it. However, you figured you owed Santiago an explanation since he schlepped all the way to the hospital at this hour to give you a ride because the stupid doctor wouldn’t let you drive home all doped up.

“I caught Alex cheating on me. Tripped down the stairs while I was running out. Caught myself on my wrist.” You said, giving him a noncommittal wave with your cast-covered forearm. “I shrieked so loud that they both ran out to help me. Then, turns out the chick he was banging is a nurse and said I should get checked out for a concussion too. She drove me.”

“Ouch,” Santi replied. Whether to the actual injuries or to the fact that you had screamed so shrilly as you fell that Alex and his booty call had run half-naked out of his apartment to check on you.

“She’s actually nice,” you admitted, keeping your eyes focused on the passing scenery. “Pretty, too. No wonder he was fucking her on the side.”

Santi’s warm hand landed on your denim-clad knee, “Hey, don’t do that. Any guy who would cheat on you is a fucking idiot who doesn’t know what he has.”

Your head lolled on your neck as you turned your attention to your friend. While he was stopped at the light, his dark eyes staring at you betrayed his sincerity. You weren’t sure if it was the meds or how tired you were or what, but you stared right back, taking in how handsome he looked in the light of the street lamps. All dark eyes and heavy brow, the firm line of his plush lips, the stubble along his sharp jaw.

“Thank you,” you whispered into the space between you. “For coming to get me.”

“Anytime, you know that. I’m sorry this happened to you, querida. You deserve someone so much better than that jackass,” he said as the light turned green and he pulled into the intersection.

You shifted in your seat, “He didn’t seem like a jackass until tonight.”

Santi was quiet for a moment, then said, “I could tell. When we met him last month, we all figured out he was a jackass.”

You snapped your head towards him so quickly your vision went fuzzy for a split second, “Then why didn’t you say anything?”

Santi shrugged, “Will said it was a bad idea for your guy friends to get involved.”

“Well next time you think someone I’m dating is a jackass, get involved.” Your tone was flat as you rested your head against the window again, relishing the cool glass against your skin. Letting your eyes drift closed, you listened to the soft click-click-click of the windshield wipers and the rain pattering the truck. You couldn’t summon the energy to be angry at Santi and the guys for not warning you about Alex right now, exhaustion dragging you down, down towards sleep.

From the driver’s seat, Santi could feel how tired you were and figured it would be better to let you drift off. He could see the bruising on your arms from your fall and looked at the neon pink cast encasing your left forearm, unable to stop his jaw from clenching and his fingers from flexing on the steering wheel.

That night he and the guys had met Alex he’d wanted to pull you aside and tell you, but Will intercepted him before he got the chance. Ever the perceptive one, Will had caught on to Santi’s growing feelings for you and gave him an ultimatum — if he did approach you tonight, he needed to tell you about his feelings or let you be happy with this guy. And you had looked happy, Alex was attentive enough, and seemed to like you back.

But now you were half-asleep against his passenger door, injured and in pain after finding that asshole cheating on you.

Who in their right mind would cheat on you? Wonderful, funny, intelligent, beautiful, generous you. Santi had half a mind to confront your ex, pummel him into the ground, and dump him off in the Everglades naked and disoriented. Instead, he turned down your quiet street and pulled into your driveway, putting his truck in park and turning off the engine — none of which woke you so he put a hand on your shoulder.

“Hey,” he said, “Querida, we’re home.”

You awoke to Santi’s face near to yours. The truck was parked in your driveway, rain lightly pelting the window.

“Right, thanks again Santi,” you said through a yawn, reaching to open the door but Santi stopped you.

“Let me make it up to you?” Santi asked, dark eyes full of hope as he looked at you.

You shook your head lightly, confused and still sleepy, “What do you mean?”

“For not telling you Alex was an ass,” he explained, brushing some of your hair away from your face which made your heart stutter. “Let me take care of you. Please?”

Your breath caught in your throat at his proximity — when had he moved? Or had you moved toward him? Either way, you both leaned over the center console and were getting closer by the second. All you could do was nod.

You didn’t miss the smile that broke on Santi’s face as he closed the distance between your mouths, his lips pressing against yours in a gentle but firm kiss. Sparks exploded behind your eyelids, but before you could deepen the kiss Santi pulled back. You chased his lips but his steady hands on your shoulders held you back.

“As much as I want to continue, you’re about to fall asleep sitting up. We should get you into bed.” He stroked your cheek with a featherlight touch, making you shiver. As awake as his kiss made you feel, you knew he was right.

He exited the truck and rounded the front to open your door, helping you down and guiding you into the house with gentle touches to your lower back, arms, shoulders. When you got to your bedroom he helped you change into pajamas, his gaze and touches (unfortunately) remaining respectful.

He pulled your covers back and held your hand while you slipped down into them, making sure you were settled before asking if you needed any more meds or water.

“No, I’m fine for now. C’mere,” you said, lids falling closed once more. You heard his light chuckle and he rounded the bed, the rustle of his t-shirt coming off and the clink of his belt as he shucked off his pants preceded the other side of your bed dipping under his weight. He took the Big Spoon position and your last thought before falling asleep was how easy, how natural, how right his arms felt around you.

#writing challenge #fanfiction #triple frontier fic #santi garcia x reader #santi garcia x you #santiago pope garcia x reader #santiago pope garcia x you #santiago garcia x you #santiago garcia x reader #in bloom #fluff #hurt/comfort

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dameronscopilot · 1 year

Text

illicit affair

Dad’s Best Friend!Santiago “Pope” Garcia x f!reader

Summary: Following your intimate encounter with your dad’s best friend, Santiago, during your family’s Thanksgiving gathering, the two of you pick back up where you left off when you visit home again for Christmas—though your covert rendezvous doesn’t quite go as planned.

Word Count: 3.3k

Rating: 18+ EXPLICIT

Content: NSFW, smut, minimal plot mainly filth, DBF!Santiago, implied age gap (reader is of age), masturbation, fingering, oral sex (f and m receiving), anal fingering, rimming, reference to anal sex, creampie, squirting, cum eating, spit kink, praise kink, choking kink, rough sex, dirty talk

A/N: This is a sequel to cut the brakes. If you want context on "what happened at Thanksgiving," read that first! This and all of my other spirals over DBF!Santi are forever dedicated to my beloved @welcometostayingawake.

While you’d anticipated sneaking away to see Santiago during your trip home to spend the holidays with your family…this turn of events certainly wasn’t in your itinerary.

Initially, after the clamor of festivities at your dad’s house on Christmas, you’d had every intention of feigning plans with hometown friends for the days that followed—plans that would actually find you nestled up at Santi’s house, during which time he’d hopefully make good on all of the wanton promises he’d made over the phone following your Thanksgiving adventures. Your vibrator was nearly on its last leg after vigorous daily use at this point, the silicone finding a familiar home lodged deep inside of your wet cunt every evening as your phone screen lit up with videos of Santiago fisting his thick cock.

Santi had found a reasonable excuse to politely decline your dad’s invite to Christmas dinner, if only because he could in no way promise that he’d be able to resist fucking you right there in your childhood bedroom while your family unknowingly mingled in the living room. The mere thought sent excitement racing down your spine, but you knew you had to play it safe if you wanted this to continue. He was your dad’s best goddamn friend, after all. God forbid your grandmother accidentally mistake your room for the bathroom and find the man balls deep inside of you.

So yeah, you’d save your long-awaited fuck fest for the privacy of Santiago’s house. Where you could scream as loudly as you wanted to whilst he pounded you into the mattress.

…at least that’s what you thought.

Until your dad invited you along for a Boxing Day visit to Santiago’s, in lieu of his absence from the prior evening’s celebrations. A visit which unfortunately coincided with a snowy morning that rapidly evolved into an outright blizzard by the afternoon, the hazardous road conditions therefore preventing you from leaving.

Snowed in with your father and Santiago?

What could possibly go wrong?

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You ran a hand over the sleek black comforter neatly tucked across Santiago’s large mattress, your mind spinning at the thought that you were about to sleep in his bed for the very first time with your father in the room just across the hall. And Santi wasn’t even there with you.

When it became clear that you wouldn’t be getting out the door anytime soon due the amount of snow that continued to accumulate in the streets with not a single plow in sight, Santiago had offered up his bedroom and his guest room to the two of you. Your father was quick to say he’d take the couch, but Santi insisted otherwise. And when he proceeded to head upstairs to clear out the abundant clutter in the spare bedroom, which he rarely used, your dad casually waved him off as he told him not to bother. He, personally, didn’t mind the mess, and you could just take Santi’s bedroom to make things easier. You hadn’t dared even steal a glance over in his direction when your father said that, face burning with the downright irony of the situation at hand.

Sighing, you allowed yourself to collapse onto the bed, burying your face in the pillows and inhaling the warm scent of Santiago’s cologne. You rolled onto your side, your body pressing into the edges of a hard lump nestled beneath the covers. Curious, you pulled the blanket down, fingers closing around a rectangular box tied shut with a large, pink bow. You tugged at the silky material and opened the lid to find a lacy lingerie set with an index card placed on top of it.

Merry Christmas, cariño.

Breath hitching in your throat, you brushed your fingers over the material, a thrill running down your spine. Of fucking course he would do this.

A few moments later, your clothes were left discarded on the floor as you slipped on Santiago’s gift, turning sideways to admire the way the lingerie looked on your body. Glancing back over at the soft, rumpled sheets on the bed, an idea occurred to you, prompting you to climb back onto the mattress.

Santiago may not have the opportunity to fuck you in this bed tonight, but you’d certainly be getting off one way or another. You ran a hand down your throat and over your breasts, teasing at your peaked nipples, which were nearly on full display through the sheer bra. Sliding your fingers inside of the material, you arched your back into your own touch, imagining that the sting of pleasure that pinching your nipples elicited was from Santiago’s teeth as he latched his mouth onto your tits.

Your thighs fell open as you trailed your hand along your stomach, fingers flirting with the waistband of the panties that just barely covered your mound and your ass. But before allowing yourself unfettered access to your aching cunt, you reached toward the nightstand for your phone, opening up the camera.

You snapped several photos, including a shot of your breasts while you sucked on your fingers, your ass on full display with nothing but a thin strap of material running between your cheeks, and the sticky arousal that had already leaked through your panties, coating the inside of your thighs. Santiago had received plenty of suggestive photos of you recently, but the chance to shamelessly tease him while you were sprawled out across his mattress, knowing he couldn’t come upstairs and fuck you, was something you couldn’t pass up.

Swiping over to the video feature, you propped the phone up on a pillow for a full-frontal view of your leaking cunt as you hooked a finger in the fabric, pulling the panties aside and inserting your middle finger into your fluttering hole. You moaned as you realized just how wet you were already, the digit sliding through your tight walls with no resistance, and you quickly slid another finger in.

Downstairs, Santi shifted from where he was sprawled out on the couch, lifting up his phone and squinting in the darkness of the living room to glance at the bright screen. His mouth went dry as he swiped a finger to reveal the gallery of images you’d sent to him, showing off that you’d indeed found the gift he’d stashed under the covers for you.

He scrolled through the pictures, cock stiffening heavily in his sweatpants at the way the lingerie left little to the imagination, showing off the dips and curves of your nearly naked body. Groaning, his hand found its way into his boxers when he opened the video of you finger fucking yourself, and he gripped his shaft tightly at the slick, squelching noises that accompanied your needy moans.

“Santi”

At the sound of you whimpering his name, he dropped the phone face down in his lap, biting down hard on his knuckles as he fisted his length, jerking his hips upward, mind wandering with the temptation of climbing the stairs two at a time and stuffing his cock inside of you without preamble.

He’d spent far too many nights jerking off to nothing but your text messages in the time since he’d seen you last—he’d even gone so far as to excuse himself from the table when he made the mistake of opening a particularly filthy photo of a dildo stuffed into your ass while he was out for lunch with your father last week, rushing to the bathroom to sloppily fuck his fist (while also sending you a photo of the way he’d accidentally splattered his cum all over the stall afterward).

Santi was nearing the point of desperation now—he needed to feel the way your tight cunt choked down his fat cock as he slid inside of you. He needed to hear your broken sobs in his ear as he kept fucking you through your first orgasm and right into the next without stopping. He needed see the cock drunk expression on your face as he pumped you full of cum over and over.

He was halfway through entertaining of the thought of how quickly he’d be able to escape the wrath of your father's fists if were to walk into the bedroom to find Santi fucking his daughter when he froze upon hearing a creaking sound up on the stairs. Hastily pulling his hand out of his pants, he sat up, only to be greeted by the side of you slinking your way across the room and over to the couch.

“Is that my shirt?”

You offered him a wry grin, doing a twirl for effect, the unbuttoned dress shirt fanning out to reveal the lingerie set you wore beneath.

“Jesus Christ, baby,” he muttered, running a hand over his face, cock throbbing in his boxers. “Come here.”

He beckoned you toward him, and you swiftly climbed into his lap, immediately pressing down against the erection straining at the front of his pants. He slipped his hands inside of the shirt you’d pilfered from his closet, running them up your sides before scooping your breasts into his palms. You arched into his touch, rocking your hips against him.

Leaning in, he ran his teeth over the shell of your ear, nipping at your earlobe. “Did you touch yourself in my bed?”

His breath was hot as it ghosted along the side of your neck, and you shivered as you admitted, “I...may have made a bit of a mess."

Santi snaked a hand between your bodies, cupping your mound to feel the wet, sticky remains of your orgasm. He pushed your panties aside just enough to dip a finger into your sensitive entrance, scooping up a glob of cum and licking it off.

“Good girl,” he murmured, cupping the side of your face and leaning in to kiss you.

Your chest heaved as his lips finally slotted against yours, quickly engulfing your mouth as he loosely wrapped a hand around your throat.

Breaking the kiss momentarily, you asked, “Should we go upstairs?”

Santi chuckled against your lips, brushing a thumb along your bottom lip. “No, because I think you want me to fuck you right here on this couch. That’s why you came down here, isn’t it?”

Heat flared in your gut as his gaze burned into yours, knowing all too well that after your risky romp in your dad’s backyard, part of you wanted to chase that thrill again. And you knew that if you told him that’s what you wanted, he’d do it.

So you nodded.

He reached up, sliding the shirt off of your shoulders and letting it fall to the ground as he leaned in, mouthing the space between your breasts.

“Get up, and bend yourself over the arm of the couch.”

His tone brokered no room for argument, so you clambered out of his lap, padding across the carpet and grabbing a throw pillow before folding your body over the side of the couch.

But before he could get up to follow, you reached out and placed a hand on his wrist from where he was still seated. “Wait.”

You let your hand trail over his thighs, pressing the heel of your palm into his erection, and he quickly understood what exactly you were getting at. Santi shifted so that he was kneeling on the cushion in front of you, and he tugged his t-shirt up and out of the way as you pulled down his sweatpants and boxers, mouth watering at the sight of his thick cock as it sprang free. He sucked in a breath as you darted out your tongue to lap up the precum dribbling down the tip.

Santi’s hand came to rest at the back of your head as your lips parted around his cock, slowly taking him into the wet heat of your mouth. You swirled your tongue around his length, swallowing him as deeply as you could and glancing up at him to make eye contact as you reached out to play with his balls.

Santi groaned, fingertips pressing into your scalp. “Can’t believe you can take my whole cock in that pretty little mouth. If I didn’t want your pussy so bad right now, I’d fuck your throat till you were choking on my cum.”

Clenching your thighs together as a fresh wave of arousal trickled through your body, you continued to bob on his shaft, saliva running down your chin as your lips engulfed him. After a few moments, Santi pulled himself out of your mouth before you drove him over the edge, sliding off of the couch and coming to stand behind you.

He began to firmly massage the globes of your ass with both hands before pulling aside the material of the thong nestled between your cheeks and spreading them wide. You dug your fingers into the couch cushion below you at the sound of Santiago spitting, letting out a huff of air as the glob landed right on your exposed tight ring of muscle.

“I was out to eat with your dad when you sent me that photo of you fucking yourself in the ass with a dildo, sweetheart,” he casually stated as he ran a finger over your puckered rim.

“I know,” you gasped out.

He tutted. “Maybe I should take you to the same restaurant this week. I’ll show you the bathroom stall where I had to go jerk off, and I'll stuff my dick in your tight little hole right there. You can spend the rest of lunch feeling my cum dripping out of your ass.”

You whimpered as he slowly began to press his finger past the rim. “Please.”

“I’ll fuck your needy cunt in my truck after, too. And then you can go back to your dad’s house and act like both of your fucked out holes aren’t full of his best friend’s cum,” he gritted out, voice wavering slightly as he slipped his entire finger into your ass.

Despite his initial reservations about your arrangement, Santiago had clearly reached the point of no return, prepared to embrace just how fucked up this entire situation was.

A sound of surprise left you at the feeling of him reaching down with his other hand to run his fingers through your folds before thrusting two of them into your entrance. You tugged the throw blanket down from where it was laying on the back of the couch, biting down hard on the edge of the material as Santi squeezed another digit into your ass, fingering both of your wet holes with fervor.

“You like having both of your holes filled, don’t you?” he questioned, voice rough.

“Feels so fucking good, Santi,” you nearly sobbed.

He worked a third finger into your cunt and your ass, and it took all of your willpower not to shout.

“Come for me again before I fuck you, cariño.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. As he crooked a finger tightly inside of your pussy, the steady thrum of pleasure coiling deep in your gut unfurled rapidly, the ache between your thighs blooming white-hot as your climax gushed out of you—literally.

“Oh fuck,” Santi moaned appreciatively as clear liquid squirted out of your cunt, dripping down his arm.

Cock throbbing painfully with need at the sight, he hastily tugged you back onto the couch, placing you so that you were kneeling on the cushions and facing the back of it. He unclasped your bra, greedily palming at your naked breasts before reaching down and tearing your panties in two.

“I liked those!” you protested, whispering loudly.

He leaned in, biting the side of your neck. “I’ll buy you more, if you’re good.”

You wiggled your ass against his cock, feeling it brush against your cheeks. “I’ll be whatever you want me to be.”

Santi smirked, gently grabbing your chin and turning your head to the side to face him while wrapping his other hand around your neck. “That’s my girl. Now open for me.”

Clearly, your late night pleas via text message for Santi to “make you his little slut and spit in your mouth” weren’t forgotten, because the moment you parted your lips for him, he tightened his grip around your throat as he spat a glob of saliva into the back of your throat.

After you swallowed, he brought his lips to meet yours, kissing you hard as he reached down to line his cock up with your dripping entrance. You let your thighs spread further apart as he began to sink into your cunt, both of you groaning softly in unison at the feeling of him bottoming out inside of your slick walls.

He slowly pulled out of you, taking his time to let you adjust to his girth, but he paused as you pleaded, “Be rough with me, Santi.”

Running a thumb along the curve of your jaw, he warned, “You have to be quiet though.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure out a way to shut me up,” you retorted, roughly pushing back against him and rapidly sheathing his length in the warmth of your cunt once more.

He hummed thoughtfully, trailing two fingers along your cheek before swiping them across your lips. You darted your tongue out, licking the digits before taking them into your mouth.

“That’s it,” he crooned, pushing his fingers further in, urging you to suck on them as he began to increase the pace of his thrusts, hips snapping against your own.

A wave of heat spread under your skin as you desperately sucked on Santiago’s fingers, saliva running down your chin while he pounded into you, massaging your inner walls with his thick shaft at a brutal pace. Your nerves were on fire, and it was all you could do to keep from moaning as he jackhammered into you, the couch groaning in protest with each vigorous thrust.

He reached down with his free hand, and you gagged on the fingers lodged in your mouth as he slid two fingers back into your ass while he continued to roughly fuck you against the cushions. At that, you began to lose your composure, legs trembling and tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you tried not to cry out. Feeling the telltale tightening of your muscles, Santi took his fingers back from where your lips were wrapped around them, instead clapping his hand firmly over your mouth to muffle the wail of pleasure bubbling up in your throat as your orgasm punched through you.

Hips stuttering, Santi plunged into you several more times before his own climax overtook him, and he left his pulsing cock stuffed inside of you, filling you to the brim with every last drop of cum that your cunt greedily milked from his shaft.

Once he was spent, he wrapped his arms around you, pressing a kiss to your shoulder blade as you both tried to catch your breath. When you eventually attempted to move, he shook his head, holding you in place as he pulled away from you, and you could feel as his cum began to leak from your hole, dripping down your thighs. Confused, you glanced back, only to catch a glimpse of the wink he tossed your way before leaning in, lapping broad strokes through your sensitive folds. You shivered at the overstimulation, the feeling of his tongue probing your entrance both too much and not enough all at once.

Santi froze as a creaking sound echoed from the hallway upstairs, and he cursed, quickly climbing up onto the couch and pulling you down, trapping you between his body and the cushions as he covered you both with a blanket. Your breath caught in your throat at the sound of your father descending the stairs, and you dared not breathe as Santi gripped your hips tightly while footsteps could be heard in the kitchen. Obscured by the darkness of the living room and the thick blanket you were burrowed beneath, you thought you’d probably be fine...as long as you didn’t move until your dad went back to bed.

—but Santiago clearly couldn’t resist a challenge.

He trailed a hand down your chest, cupping your mound, and you bit down on your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood in an attempt to hold back the whimper he almost drew out of you as he sunk two fingers back into your cunt.

“I want you to come for me one more time," he murmured.

—

Comments, reblogs, and/or asks are always appreciated!

» SANTIAGO GARCIA MASTERLIST » OSCAR ISAAC MASTERLIST

#santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia #santiago garcia smut #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #oscar isaac fanfiction #dbf!santiago #dee writes

694 notes · View notes

beezusvreeland · 3 months

Text

Santi's journal (Santiago "Pope" Garcia x Reader)

I was planning on publishing a fic about Santiago on Valentine's Day, but didn't have time to finish. Since I like what I wrote so far, I decided to share with all of you :)

summary: After the break up, Santiago is advised to write a journal to deal with his feelings, an exercise that brings back memories and, maybe, a new hope for your relationship.

ship: Santiago "Pope" Garcia x Reader

genre: Angst, possible second chance romance, Santi sometimes being sweet and, others, a bitch.

words: 1,7k

taglist (if you'd like to be added, just let me know in the comments): @wreckmyimage @steven-grants-world @lizispunkk @torntaltos @nervousmumbling @littleshadow17

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You’ll never read this. I’ll make sure of it. It boils my blood the fact that I can see the face you’d make, you would tell me writing in a journal is so unlike me. Of course you’re right, you’re always fucking right. I wouldn’t be doing this if Will hadn’t made me. He showed up at 7 fucking am at my mother’s house and you know she fucking loves him, a prince charming, if she has ever seen one. Fucking prick keeps smirking at me because I know he is far from it. After eating like a fucking king, he tossed me this goddamn notebook and a pen and said something how I should stop pouring my feelings on alcohol, hilarious since he was drinking as much as me last night, and find another way to express emotions or whatever. He is still here, watching me like a fucking hawk while I pretend I’m taking this shit seriously.

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Being back at my parents’ house is fun for like two days, after that it’s just depressing. I’m sleeping in my bed in my room and it just doesn’t feel like home anymore. If my conscience wasn’t guilty already, I would have broken the promise I made to Ironhead and driven my ass straight to the bar. I would keep getting a hangover, but at least I would sleep better.

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I was cleaning the car just now and found one of your earrings. That one that’s a small golden hoop, you wear it all the time. You’re probably looking for it, maybe I should give it to Frankie or Benny to return it to you. It’s funny, you always said that you felt sort of naked without earrings. It was one of these things you would repeat every once in a while, I’ve always liked that. Felt like a confirmation that even if you changed, you were still you.

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Things got complicated after we broke up. I wonder if you feel it too, our friends forming teams for each of us. I don’t like that. And I know you don’t either. I went to Fish’s to give him your earring, feeling safe ‘cause you know, it’s fucking Fish, mi hermano. But Sarah was home and was the one who opened the door. Let’s just say she’s very much on your team. She made sure I knew that with all the screaming in spanish and the dishes being thrown my way. I hid in my car until Frankie came home. Me, an army veteran. That’s how pathetic my life has been, princesa.

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Can’t sleep again. Think I got too used to having you by my side. Also, this bed is very small, I don’t know how I was able to sleep here. I think you would like to know that now I’m the one doing my own laundry and the cleaning. Ma made it clear that her casa no es un hotel. I heard her telling mis tias that the only baby she wants to take care of is a grandchild and that I ruined her chances of having one.

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Met a girl at the bar last night. We made small talk for a while, until she asked me if something was wrong because I kept looking at the door every time someone walked in. I told her I thought I saw a friend, but the truth is I realized that my body has an automatic response to the sound of the bar door opening. I turned every time hoping it would be you walking in, but it never was.

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I saw on the news that the old movie theater downton is going to be demolished and turned into a parking garage. Not gonna lie, it made me so fucking sad to think about it and to wonder how you might react to this news. We were always there when we were kids. It was where we talked for the first time. You think it was at school, but it wasn’t. All I wanted was an electric guitar just like James Hetfield’s and my parents said absolutely fucking not when I asked them for it, so I started working there on weekends. Sundays were always boring, only a handful of people showed up in the mornings and time just wouldn’t go by.

And then one day you showed up at the concession stand, hair down in one of those headbands you loved so much, I wasn’t prepared, thought I was going to have a heart attack at the age of 16. You recognized me from homeroom, knew my name and all. I was such a fucking simp, always trying to sit next to you. I thought you would never even look in my direction and then you were there at the theater, trying to make some small talk while I got you popcorn. I spent the rest of the day over the moon that we had talked and terrified I had blown it by being so nervous and barely saying anything to you. In homeroom on monday, you turned to me with a shy smile and said hi. That’s all it took. You had me…and still do.

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The nightmares are back. You know, the ones with the sounds of shots being fired, all the blood and the bodies. I’m terrified that one day I’ll start recognizing them. Of one of them becoming you. I almost called your number, dialed it and everything. Then I remembered that, according to you, the only acceptable excuses for waking you up in the middle of the night were if the house was on fire or if someone was dying. And I just didn’t want to give you yet another reason to be mad at me.

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I’m pissed off right now. Frankie had the audacity of taking me out of town to help him pick up some table Sarah bought online and next thing I know, he starts to reprimand me for what happened. Some bullshit about not giving up on what I loved, especially not you.

No matter how much we argued, he still missed my point. You were the one that had doubts. The one that didn’t want to commit. You said you wanted to, so why won’t you?

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I went back to the bar today. Fuck, I really needed a drink after that disaster with Frankie and the arguments with my mother, who won’t shut up about Miss Celia next door becoming a grandmother to twins and how she is thinking of giving her some of my baby clothes. Ma wanted them to go to her grandchildren, our children. We can’t have a conversation that doesn’t involve this topic. I just can’t do anything right.

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It’s not just the clothes she keeps, you know. Ma also has several scrapbooks with moments I didn’t even remember. There was one just for prom, with pictures at my house, in front of the limo, others where I look very sweaty and probably stoned. I spent years going back to that memory. It’s one of my biggest regrets, not taking you to prom. I put myself in a situation I didn’t know how to get out of.

The night we kissed for the first time, in my car parked in front of the movie theater, blew my mind. Before that, I thought you’d never date me, so I started dating other girls. I had hooked up with Paloma Gomez a few times when she let me know we would go to the prom together. I said yes. I was such a shit little idiot, fuelled by hormones and teenage angst. I hadn’t learned yet that having sex with someone doesn’t mean you are in love with them, how meaningless it could be. It didn’t matter how much I tried, no amount of it could ever compare to talking to you on the phone late at night, trading secrets and whispers about everything and nothing.

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Got a consulting job at a firm. It’s freelance for now, but you know, it gives me something to do and a reason to leave the house every day. The people at the office are fine, there aren’t that many demands at this time of the year and one of the ladies from the other floor brings a cake every friday. This week’s was lemon flavored with a cream filling I know you would love.

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Benny convinced me to try out the gym he is working at and it wasn’t bad. I thought he worked at the counter or something, but he is a personal trainer. A good one, if you ask me — don’t fucking tell him.

Ben made me lift some weights and run for a bit. Tried talking to him about the fight, I actually meant to ask how you have been, but once again the words escaped me and our conversation took a turn to who’s right and who’s wrong. He said if I wanted you back, I should understand what went wrong to make it right. It was weird, not gonna lie, all the riddles and shit. For a moment there, I felt like I was the kid and he was the adult for once.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

A few days after we kissed, you showed up at the theater again, remember? You seemed nervous for once, holding a dark green box that you put on the counter. You were even wearing a dress I hadn’t seen before, the one that made you look like Wednesday Addams. It seemed you even had a bit of makeup on.

You broke the awkwardness between us asking me to open the box. Inside there were five cupcakes with inscriptions on them: P R O M ? When I looked back at you, you had your hands behind your back and were shifting your weight, a smile on your face. Telling you that I already had a date and confirming I was dating that girl was one of the hardest things I ever had to do in life — and I’ve hidden in a cave full of corpses before, you know it.

I became desperate, tried telling you it wasn’t serious, that maybe I could cancel with her to go with you. And you said that would be cruel to both of you, then left.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

author's note: I have and idea for a part two. Let me know if you're interested? And if you like what you read, please reblog and leave a comment, it means the world to us writers to be able to interact with our readers.

masterlist

#santiago pope garcia #santiago pope garcia x reader #santiago garcia x reader #santiago x reader #triple frontier fic #bee writes

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romanarose · 10 months

Text

Gross Reality

Santiago Garcia x fem!reader

Join my tag list!

Triple Frontier Masterlist

800 Words

Summary: You are on your period and feel disgusting, Santi isn't phased.

Content Warnings: BODILY FLUIDS, all the bodily fluids. This fic is just me being self-indulgent because I'm feeling disgusting on my period today. Breif reference to butt stuff bc it's me. But mostly, if bodily fluids like puke and shit gross you out, keep going but I know this is the reality for many people who get periods.

A/N: In my head, this takes place in a lil universe of several of my Santi fics, including the one I did with Dolli, Honest Mistake, and but more importantly another Santi period fic I referenced in this fic, Santi With a Reader on Her Period.

****************

Santi Claus: Hey babe, you wanna come over today? The new Spider-verse movie is on Disney plus, we can refuel your fanfiction inspiration 👀or inspiration 👀 for other things 👀

Benny’s Hot Friend: Can’t, busy sitting on the toilet.

Santi realized, again, he needed to change his girlfriends name from what he had drunkenly put it in as months ago at Will’s engagement party.

Santi Claus: … just sitting there?

Benny’s hot friend: No, dumbass

Santi Claus: Did you get distracted watching tik tok for an hour again?

Benny’s Hot friend: NO! Im on my period and it’s day two and everything is fucking awful and I wanna die and I think I’m going to on this toilet

Santi Claus: Cramps?

Benny’s Hot Friend: Shitting, Santi. Shitting. I’ve bled through my tampons after 30 minuets and i'm sick of it and I keep needing to shit and it’s disgusting and I’m disgusting and I’m just free bleeding over the toilet and shitting when need because I can’t trust my farts ARE YOU HAPPY

Santa Claus is typing

Santi Claus is typing

Santi was very carefully plotting his next words.

Santi Claus: Amor, have you eaten today?

Benny’s Hot Friend: NO I HAVEN'T EATEN TODAY SANTI IF YOU MUST ASK AND I HAVEN'T HAD ANY CAFFEINE EVERYTHING IS TERRIBLE.

When he didn’t respond, you assumed he’d gotten sick of your shit. It wasn’t that long ago that you happen woken up on top of him with a surprise early period, bleeding all over your new boyfriend who you hadn’t even farted around, and now, although you were more secure, you still worried you’d come across as gross and bitchy and he was over it. Your periods were horrible, the first 2-3 days at least. Dejected, you clean yourself up but only to go get more pain medicine and plot yourself back down on the toilet.

Another round of cramps came and pretty soon you could add tears and puke to the list of fluids exiting you, ready to just get into the bathtub and cry when you felt your hair being held back and you look to your side to see Santi, eyes concerned and worried, but not disturbed.

“Do you need a hospital, mi vida?”

You shake your head. “No, tummy just hurts.”

Not deterred, Santi holds your hair and rubs your stomach as you empty into the trashcan until the pain subsided enough to try taking a pill again. Dutifully, Santi cleaned up the trash can and your face before guiding you up rinse your mouth out with mouth wash, all while muttering oft praises and encouragement. ‘There we go, let it out’ ‘Do you feel better? Bien.’ ‘Doing good, just spit it out now’

“Santi, I’m sorry, this is so gross-”

“Oh hush. This is far from the worst I’ve seen.”

“Saw worse in the military?”

“No- well, yeah, but I was thinking about the time Benny called me after getting food poisoning from Taco Bell and I had to play big brother while Will was out of town.”

“Yeah” You pant, stomach hurting. “I’ve had to deal with him sick too. He’s a bigfucking baby. Now can you please get out, I need to shit.”

Santi scoffed at that. “You think I don’t shit? I shit all day, three times before lunch-”

“Yeah, you should get that checked out”

“-I’m not phased. I’ve had my finger in your ass, I can handle what comes out of it.”

Finally, you giggle, smiling at him as he sat at the tub edge. “Okay, your funeral.” You bent over in pain again, wondering what the fuck you did to deserve this nonsesnese every month and what you did to deserve to deserve such a loving boyfriend. You wanted to marry this pain in your ass, marry him so hard. He talks to you while you take care of business whipping your face when you get the cold sweats

“Santi, I love you but you’ve gotta get outta here while I clean up.”

He chuckles, but concedes. “Okay, I brought over chinese food-”

“Oh FUCK YEAH”

“-and coffee”

“FFFFFUUUCCKKK YEEEAAHHH”

“I’ll get it ready in the kitchen when you’re done”

He does as promised and you begin to clean up when you get a ding on your phone. You didn’t realize it was Santi’s until it was too late, and you saw it. No, he wasn’t cheating. No, he wasn’t talking shit. It was the last text you sent him and you saw what your name was on the screen.

Benny’s Hot Friend.

“Santiago Garcia!” You stand in the kitchen with his phone, fully dressed but your hair clinging to your face from sweat. “Wanna explain my contact name?”

He looks confused, then his eyes widen and he stops plating your food. Muneca, listen, I can explain-”

“BENNY’S HOT FRIEND?!” But you were smiling.

He starts to back away, hands raised in defense. “I said you were hot!”

“Did you forget my name that night?”

“Honey, I had like 8 beers and I’m a short king! I was drunk!”

Playfully, you run at Santi, threatening to bleed on him again.

***************

Anyway, shout out to my Peeps in the whorefully yours discord! we all go there and complain about our periods bc they suck. Mine arent THAT bad, I mostly had the shits and the excessive bleeding and I do just sit on the toilet sometimes but I know other people who throw up from the pain.

Your pain is real, and you deserve someone to take care of you

@fandxmslxt69 @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @whatthefishh @k-ra @eyelessfaces @ivystoryweaver @steven-grants-world @campingwiththecharmings @ahookedheroespureheart @littlenosoul

#santiago garcia #santiago pope garcia #santiagogarcia reader #x reader #santiago garcia reader #fem!reader #santiago garcia fem reader #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier reader #sick fic #sic fic

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gosmigenergy · 7 months

Text

KINKTOBER 2023 / Day Twenty Eight

( Will ‘Ironhead’ Miller x F!Reader )

CUCKOLDING / APHRODISIACS / TEMPERATURE PLAY

Summary: Will suggests you both try a tasty aphrodisiac, things are guaranteed to get messy.

Day Twenty Eight of @absurdthirst's Kinktober

Rating: Mature 18+

Warnings: Language, a lot of food talk, food play, licking, biting, teasing, brief oral - female receiving, dry humping, no use of Y/N

Word Count: 2k

“So, what have you got planned for tonight?”

“Who says I’ve planned anything?”

Your eyes narrowed, Will doesn’t plan specifically for that night but usually, he has something up his sleeve. He rests his elbows on the countertop, matching your stance to wind you up a little. You cock your head to the side and bat your eyelids.

“How can I deny that look?” He chuckles, “I thought we’d try some natural aphrodisiacs, could get messy though.”

Your stomach does a somersault.

“It’s not the powder is it?”

That night with Frankie and Santiago was enough to put you off the stuff even if it was all good fun. You felt the after effects for days.

“I couldn’t possibly do that to you, sweetheart. My suggestion is a lot more tasty.”

The corner of your lips curl as he steps away from the breakfast bar and heads to the fridge. Opening the door, you hear the crumpling of a plastic container before other food stuff was placed on top.

When he turns round, you know exactly what he’s thinking. He puts the pallet of strawberries and dark chocolate on the counter in front of you.

“Do you know how to melt chocolate without burning it?”

“I looked it up online,” he shrugs, “but I did get squirt chocolate just in case.”

Oh yes, things were going to get messy.

You offer to help him melt the chocolate, the instructions he found were intended for a microwave but you saw it best to use the stovetop. It’s easier to burn in the microwave, at least this way you can keep an eye on it.

He dumped a huge bag of chocolate chips into a pyrex bowl and placed it on top of a pan of boiling water. He gently folded it, his large hand wrapped around a spoon, until it became a smooth, glossy liquid.

“Ok, grab the strawberries,” he said.

You’d washed them and presented them in a bowl to make them seem romantic and followed him to the bedroom.

“I don’t think that blanket will survive chocolate,” your brows knot.

“It’ll be fine, Bunny.”

He’d happily buy a new one anyway, to match his sheets better. He spreads it out so it covers the bed and rests the hot bowl, taking the tea towel back to the kitchen. You switch on the lamps and put the strawberries down.

When he comes into the room, he switches off the main light.

“Better take those clothes off,” he smiles knowingly.

“Even the underwear?”

“Even the underwear.”

Naked, the pair of you climb onto the bed. He stretches onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow and you sit on your legs near him. The bowls were balanced precariously in the middle. Your eyes explore how the light hits his body, light shadows casting under his abdominals leading towards the v shape forming between his hips, his flaccid cock.

“You’re already distracted.”

Your attention comes back to his face, his expression soft.

The temperature in your cheeks rises.

“Do you want any of these delicious looking strawberries or—“

“No, I do,” your mouth was watering but not from the fruit.

He always thought it was cute when you got flustered, the embarrassment spreading to your flushed chest.

Taking the biggest strawberry, he dipped it in the chocolate and twisted to stop it from dripping. He brought it to your lips and you opened your mouth before sinking your teeth into the juicy fruit. The sweetness of the chocolate took away the sharpness, blending it into a satisfying taste. It took over your tastebuds and you hummed as you swallowed.

“Thought you’d like it,” he said, dipping it again, bringing it back to your mouth for you to finish.

“I better not be eating all of these myself.”

“I’ll have a couple.”

You return the favour except Will has the capability to eliminate the strawberry in one bite.

“It’s no fun if you do that,” you sigh.

“I much prefer watching your mouth around it.”

You fumble and drop an entire berry in the mixture, “I’m not scooping that out.”

The two of you continue until he refuses and feeds you a few more. His once smooth motions become sloppy, purposefully smothering the berry in chocolate and smearing it over your lips.

“Only one more,” you say, gesturing a hand, “I’ve already had too much.”

He nods, dipping the last strawberry, submerging it so it’s fully covered. Bringing it to your lips, he pulls it away and you pout, your attempt to chase it failing.

“Here.”

He holds his hand steady and when you’re millimetres away, he draws it along your cheek.

“Will!”

The strawberry is shoved into your mouth before you have the chance to argue. You talk as you chew.

“You did that on purpose.”

“Maybe I did.”

He waits for you to finish before stretching, his face coming to yours. His tongue licks the chocolate from your cheek then he kisses your lips. You blink when he moves away from you, your lips parted in surprise.

He dips two fingers into the bowl, “It would be a shame to waste all this chocolate.”

You open your mouth to him as he slips in the fingers, wrapping your lips around the thick digits. Your tongue rolls and twists as you suckle softly, making sure you take all the sweet coating. His fingers pop from your mouth.

“You trust me?”

You smile coyly, “Of course.”

Straightening up, he reaches for his bedside table and opens a draw. He pulls out a silky ribbon, wide enough to cover your eyes and shuffles behind you to tie it on. It wraps around your head three times, your fingers hovering incase it needs to be held in place yet it doesn’t. You feel the knot tighten, bunching up your hair as he double binds it.

“Can you see anything?”

You shake your head, all that was in your vision was the colour pink.

“Promise.”

You nod as he takes your hand and kisses your palm. He moves in front of you, fingertips skimming your legs and stomach before he speaks again.

“Lay back.”

You lean, hands planted on the mattress as you unfurl your legs from beneath you. Carefully, you rest your upper body to the bed and spread yourself out, toes accidentally poking him as you did so. You breath deeply, trying to focus on the bed, on him.

“I’m ready,” you call out.

He coats his two fingers and thumb before spreading the chocolate over your lips with his thumb, you happily accept it. Once you’ve licked most of it off, he draws down your neck, feeling your vein pump underneath the skin. He stops as he reaches your collar bone, leaning back to admire his work. Licking his lips, he settles his hands either side of your head, dropping his face gradually.

His hot breath dances across your neck and your breath stutters.

He presses his tongue flat and licks over your collarbone, lapping up the sweetness all the way up to your jaw. You moan, tipping your head so he could get underneath. He kisses your jawline before lifting himself up again, arm lengthening to grab the edge of the pyrex bowl.

Mixing the liquid with the spoon, he gathers as much as he can.

He lifts his legs, placing them on the outside of yours and look down on your relaxed frame. He tips the spoon above you, studying as the chocolate begins to fall on your skin.

The initial droplet makes you flinch.

Shaking the piece of cutlery, he decorates your body in line of chocolate from your chest to your belly button. He admits it goes everywhere, some of it spraying on his thighs, others blobbing on your mound, along your bikini line.

Once he’s done with that, he discards the spoon and scoop with his fingers. He smears some around the curve of your breasts and over your nipples, a couple of brushes on your thighs. You feel two fingers cover your lips in chocolate and hear the slurp as he cleans his own fingers. He doesn’t tell you this but you assume you’re not allowed to lick it yourself.

He starts at the bottom.

His hands come down to your legs as he draws up with his nose. He flattens his tongue as he runs up your thigh, feeling you shiver, your breath hitching. When he reaches the crease between your hip and leg, he nips with his teeth before quickly soothing with his tongue. Then he repeats the action on the other side.

He notched the tip of his nose against your clit as he licked your folds. You shiver, your arousal pooling on his tongue and you feel him smile as your legs close around his frame.

As he pulls back, you wriggle your hips, desperate to get him back.

“Please, just a little more.”

He shakes his head, tutting before moving onto the droplets either side of the long strip. You moan as you welcome his lips back to your body, even if it’s not at your wet pussy. He swiftly took away the chocolate with the point of his tongue, grazing softly with teeth.

You couldn’t stop thinking about what your view would look like if you weren’t blindfolded. The flecks of platinum blonde in his crown, the muscles working on his broad shoulders as he brings himself close, arms holding him steady. And as he continues to lick and bite, your every honeyed noise would make his cock twitch and grow.

Your belly was getting warm.

Once you’re clean around the edges, he goes to your stomach, laying his tongue flat above your belly button. He drags it up bit by bit, not rushing, savouring the taste as you arch your back for him to take. Flicking his tongue up at your chest, he goes back to the bottom to start over, making sure he gets as much off as he can.

Next, he moves onto your breast, tucking under the curve to get the chocolate there before focusing on the nipples. Using the tip of the tongue, he circles the edge, nudging the mini metal balls that make your nipples go puffy. He takes one in his mouth and sucks gently, hearing the sigh escape from your lips as your head tips backwards.

He nips you just for good measure, your one hand running through his hair, tugging lightly.

Moving to the other, he does the same thing but when he bares his teeth, he nibbles before biting harder.

“Fuck,” you hiss, pulling his hair to match his strength.

He soothes with his tongue and mouth, popping your nipple from his mouth. Removing your hand from his head, he lay it down to the mattress as he straightened up to admire the view.

Your chest was beginning to rise and fall more frequently, skin shiny from his saliva and the corner of his lips curl when he notices the chocolate still on your lips. He expected you to lick it off ages ago, that sweet tooth of yours making it hard to resist, he was impressed.

Taking your ankles, he hooks them over his waist before returning to you, pushing his crotch into your mound. His cock is heavy, hot as he ruts into your folds, his length brushing on your sensitive bundle of nerves. You whine, ankles locking to bring him closer, seeking the friction to satisfy for building desire.

He returned his hands either side of you, stopping his hips as he hovered his face in front of yours. He can hear how shaky your breath is, see your throat bob as you swallow in anticipation, his breath dancing over your cheeks.

Sinking down, he slotted his lips to yours, the chocolate smearing over your cupid’s bow and catching in his whiskers. Your tongues both fight for dominance, licking the sweet treat from each other’s faces. His tongue forced it’s way into your mouth. He starting to roll his hips and caught your thick groan.

As he began to pull back, he sunk his teeth into your bottom lip, sucking hard for that last sugary hit.

Your lips were prickling.

He moved away from you when you chased his lips, hips halted and you heard him chuckle wickedly as he crept further away.

You scream through gritted teeth, throwing your head back as your fingernails buried into the covers.

“Will, please, just fuck me already.”

Will laughed, chocolates and strawberries really were aphrodisiacs.

#kinktober 2023 #triple frontier #triple frontier x reader #will ironhead miller #will miller #will miller x reader #will miller x you #kinktober

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cheesybadgers · 4 months

Text

Narcos Fic: Old Habits Die Hard (Chap. 21)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 22, Chapter 23, Chapter 24

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Pairing: Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo

Words: 7,356

Summary: After arriving in Manizales, Horacio introduces Javier to his family, leading to a long overdue heart-to-heart and a drinking game with a twist.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Discussions of coming out, grief, parental loss, canon-typical violence, allusions to period-typical prejudices, drinking game, smoking, swearing.

Notes: Firstly, I will soften the blow of leaving it so long since my last update with the news that chapter 22 will be posted within the next week or so! I decided to split it in half to give more space to the conversations between the characters. So, hopefully that will make up for my elongated silence lol.

Secondly, I finished drafting the rest of the fic at the end of last year 👀 So, I just need to complete editing on chapter 23 and the epilogue. Then, and I can't believe I'm actually saying this, it will be time to leave these two messy idiots to it.

I think it will take me some time to get my head around it coming to an end, not least of all because it's been almost 3 years since I started working on this behemoth. And I can't believe how much has happened/changed since then, yet my love for this ship and this story has stayed strong and close to my heart. So, a bit of a premature thank you to anyone who has supported it at any point since March 2021, it's been quite the emotional rollercoaster ❤️ As always, I love hearing from my readers, so feel free to drop me a comment/message!

I’ve also added to my OHDH trivia post to cover this chapter if anyone is interested.

Chapter 21: For Old Times' Sake

A haze of mist hung low on the horizon, clinging to the rolling waves of verdant peaks that bled seamlessly together with worn asphalt until it was impossible to tell where the sky began and the earth ended.

Luckily, the tyres of the hire car were built for rougher terrain, and it wasn’t the first time Horacio had driven this route. Admittedly, it would have been easier to fly. But this had the added benefit of giving Javier a taste of undiscovered territory.

If truth be told, it gifted them more time to mentally prepare for what was getting closer with every hour that passed, each stop off to admire the view and refresh a stubborn way to prolong the status quo.

Progress had been slow for the last hour as the congested traffic crawled along the sharp angles of the road with its treacherous drops only a few inches away. They had come to a standstill behind a bus that allowed passengers off to take photos, and with little room to manoeuvre around the vehicle, a trail of cars had no choice but to wait.

Javier lounged back in the passenger seat, one foot resting on the opposite knee, his elbow leaning on the door, and the window half open.

He watched Horacio’s hands on the steering wheel alternate between clenching and tapping, a particular kind of rigidity returning to his jaw for the first time in months – if not years.

Javier made an executive decision by reaching into the glove box. He pulled out an emergency pack of cigarettes and a lighter they had stashed away before setting off from Medellín.

He lifted one out of the pack and sparked up. “So, did you say it’s a farm we’re heading to?” There was no point asking the obvious, so distraction it was.

“A coffee farm on the outskirts of the city, yeah. It belongs to Fabián’s family. He and his brother, Santiago, do the bulk of the work now their father’s winding down.”

“Sounds nice. And kinda familiar.”

Horacio’s eyes finally left the windshield and met Javier’s with a shadow of a smile. “Yeah, it does. A lot hillier than Texas, though.”

“Well, that wouldn’t be hard.” Javier held out his smoke across the car, their first one that wasn’t post-coital in a long time. But needs must.

Horacio apparently agreed as he accepted it with a huff of resignation. “Fine, one for the road.”

“I think it’s allowed on roads like this one.”

“I did warn you.”

“Hey, no, I like it. Keeps you on your toes.”

“It reminds me of when Papá drove us to visit Tia Salomé and Tio Jairo in Bogotá. He and Mamá let us have sweets for the long journey but warned us the Mareco would take them away if we didn’t behave.”

“The Mareco?”

“La Leyenda del Mareco. It was a story we were told as kids. The Mareco’s a red devil that looks like a lizard on two legs. He steals children’s candy and conjures up a whirlwind to blow them away if they don’t obey their parents.”

Javier nodded in recognition as Horacio passed their cigarette back. “La Llorona was the story used to scare me and my cousins.”

“Oh yeah, we got that one as well.”

“I gotta say, the Mareco explains a lot.”

“About what?”

“About how you developed a problem with authority.”

“What’s your excuse then?”

“What can I say? I was led astray.”

It was a blatant lie, but Javier didn’t care when it caused laughter lines to materialise in the corner of Horacio’s eyes.

“We both know you were drawn to it as much as you resented it.”

“Only where you were concerned. Anyway, you were just as bad even though you'd never admit it.”

“Maybe you were my exception too.”

A moment of silence fell as memory after memory collided, snapshots of how the push and pull between them had evolved with their relationship.

"Listen, I was thinking,” Javier started before taking a drag, “would it make things easier if you wore this? Just while we’re here, I mean.”

Horacio’s gaze drifted to Javier’s exposed skin, the taillights of the car in front catching on the crucifix at his chest. “No,” he said matter-of-factly. “It’s yours now.”

By the time their cigarette was finished, the traffic edged forward, and the road ahead and Javier’s hand on Horacio’s leg soon replaced conversation.

------------------------------------------------------

Two and a half hours and several bursts of heavy rain later, the muddied hire car pulled up by a complex of buildings nestled amongst a sea of lush green and vibrant flowers. The buildings sat atop steep slopes of vegetation that led to the coffee plantations below, the foggy skyline above etched with rugged ridges and the ominous outline of Nevado del Ruiz in the distance.

Any sounds from life on a working coffee farm were drowned out by birdsong and their feet crunching beneath them as Horacio and Javier walked up the gravel path towards the main finca. It was typical in its style with a rustic tiled roof, whitewashed bricks and wooden pillars around its perimeter painted in the same shade of terracotta red as the doors and window frames. At the back of the property was a large garden with a patio area, pool and a spectacular view for miles on a clear day.

As they lugged their suitcases onto the porch, Alejandra waited to greet them at the front door. Her dark hair was styled in a bob with waves bordering on curls, the kind Javier imagined Horacio could grow if he wasn’t so insistent on keeping his hair short. At least since leaving the CNP, he had been less strict about cutting it.

The family resemblance between the two siblings was evident in their facial features, particularly in the shape of their noses, charcoal eyes and Cupid’s bows. But Alejandra was a few inches shorter, and her frame was slimmer on account of not carrying the same muscle as Horacio.

“The wanderer finally returns,” Alejandra announced as she pulled Horacio in for a long hug, neither of them keen to be the first to let go. “At least you remembered how to use the phone before turning up on my doorstep.”

“Of course. It's good to see you. But I am sorry I left it so long. There’s, erm…a lot to catch up on.”

“I’ll say.” She peered curiously behind Horacio. “But first, let me say hello to this handsome new face.”

She all but pushed Horacio to one side, forgoing any formal introductions he might have had planned. All Horacio could do was stand and watch two parts of his life converge that, for a long time, he believed would never – and could never – meet.

Javier had hung back by several feet, his hands self-consciously stuffed into the pockets of his jeans as he kept his eyes on the ground until he was spoken to.

“Hi there, I’m Alejandra. You must be Javier?”

“Oh, er, yeah, hi.” For reasons unbeknownst to Javier, he raised his hand in a stiff wave rather than the relaxed handshake he had planned and felt the heat instantly rise in his cheeks. “Pleasure to finally meet you. Beautiful place you’ve got up here.”

“Likewise. And thanks.” Much to Javier's relief, she took the lead and held out a hand for him to shake with a reassuring smile. “Although you’ve got Fabián to thank for that. He’s down there giving a tour to one of our new buyers.” Alejandra turned back to face Horacio. “Mamá’s shopping for school supplies and tonight’s dessert with Juan José, Sofía and Mateo. Ana María’s out with friends. But they should all be back in the next few hours.”

Horacio nodded but remained taciturn, keeping to himself his strong suspicions that Alejandra had made sure she was the only one to greet them upon arrival.

“Come on, you can show Javier around whilst I make us something to eat and drink.”

------------------------------------------------------

It had been a long time since Horacio’s last visit, but he could just about remember the layout of the place. He took Javier through the downstairs rooms, moving from the hall to the living areas and then the kitchen, which appeared tidier now than in his dreams.

The décor was all tiled or wooden floors and earthy tones, contrasting against large airy windows that made the landscape outside seem like a part of the finca. Evidence of three generations and two cats was scattered everywhere in the form of toys, games, videos, tapes, books, various coffee products and photographs from over the years. In one corner stood a home altar containing a large crucifix, prayer cards, rosary beads, candles, and a statue of Virgen de Chiquinquirá. In the opposite corner was a shelf full of old vinyl with Lucho Bermúdez taking pride of place, naturally.

Upstairs housed six bedrooms and three bathrooms, on account of the brood of four children, three adults and a spare room. The spare room was their last stop, where they dumped their luggage, sharing an amused glance at the double bed with a smaller fold-out one laid out in the corner with a pile of fresh sheets.

“As your guest, I take it I get the bigger one?” Javier asked with a spark of mischief in his eye.

“Well, technically, I’m also a guest here. And I did do all the driving.”

“Maybe I’ll, er, flip you for it later.”

Horacio merely raised a brow at the suggestion in Javier’s tone before they headed back downstairs.

They sat under cover of the terrace in the wildly growing garden, just in case the rain returned, which was always a distinct possibility in Manizales. An impressive platter of fruits was laid out on the table alongside freshly made coffee.

“So, how was the wedding?” Alejandra asked as she poured from a pot into three cups, the dark, rich aroma diffusing into the same crisp air the beans were grown and harvested.

Horacio accepted a cup with a thanks and passed the other to Javier. “It was nice. Good to see everyone again.”

“How’s Trujillo doing? It’s been strange seeing his face all over the news.”

Rather than his, Horacio thought with a strange lurch to the gut he wasn’t expecting. “He’s doing well; he’s a Major now. He deserves some happiness after everything.”

“He’s not the only one.”

Alejandra gave Horacio a pointed look, one he wasn’t ready to entirely meet, so he reached for a slice of guayaba instead.

“And Javier...I take it this is your first visit to Manizales?” she continued, offering him the fruit tray.

“Thanks. And yeah, it is. Never got the time to explore much beyond Bogotá and Medellín.” That wasn't exactly true, but Javier didn’t think talk of Cartagena or Tolú would be welcome right now.

“Well, I hope it won’t be your last.”

Horacio could feel another look directed his way but pretended not to notice it and sipped on his coffee.

Once they had eaten their weight in fruit, Alejandra had some business calls to make, leaving Javier and Horacio to unpack and freshen up before reconvening to make a start on dinner.

Of course, it had to be sudado de pollo. Horacio and Alejandra worked as a team, issuing sporadic instructions to Javier when necessary. But he was happy listening to them catch up and reminisce.

“That smells amazing already,” Javier said as he finely chopped onions across a wooden board, gesturing to the dishful of chicken thighs that Alejandra had just finished marinating.

“Mamá’s secret blend,” she replied as she set the dish aside to move on to dicing several tomatoes.

“Oh yeah? What would I have to do to get the recipe for that?” Javier reflexively caught Horacio’s eye across the kitchen.

“If we told you, we’d have to kill you.” Horacio shot Javier a warning look that indicated he was only half joking before focusing intently on cutting up a large batch of yuca and potatoes.

“Yeah, not even Fabián knows.”

“Papá never knew either. But he was happy for us or Mamá to make it for him.”

“My Mamá was the same with her Abuela’s morisqueta. Although, not long before she passed, she left me and my Pops the recipe.”

Alejandra paused her knife to look up at Javier, the surprise on her face soon transforming into recognition and sympathy. “I bet it’s delicious. You should make it for us some time.”

Now it was Horacio’s turn to stop, his eyes travelling from Alejandra to Javier and back again as the implication of his sister’s words hung as heavy in the kitchen as the aromatic spices of her marinade.

------------------------------------------------------

Once the chicken and vegetables were all prepped and placed in a pot on the stove, the front door opened and closed, a loud chatter of voices soon filling the hallway.

Before Javier knew what was happening, he was being introduced to the children, shaking hands with Fabián, then kissing Elena’s cheek.

“Welcome, Javier. It’s good to put a face to a name at last,” Elena said, thoroughly taking in his appearance, apparently satisfied with what she saw.

At last. Javier wasn’t sure whether those words put him at ease or made him more nervous, but he managed to push such thoughts behind a smile. “Nice to meet you, and likewise.”

Javier had briefly seen pictures of Horacio’s family in the past. But he, too, spent time studying Elena now that he was close enough to smell the floral notes of her perfume. Neat oval glasses and a mix of dark and light grey hair cut short and choppy framed her sharp features, the shape of her nose and Cupid’s Bow matching those of her children.

“No thanks to this one here, mind you.” Despite her chastisement, Elena embraced her son tightly, reluctant to let go. “I think he’s been hiding from us.”

“You know it wasn’t like that, Mamá.” Although, over his Mamá’s head, Horacio gave Javier a sheepish look that said otherwise. “It is good to see you. And I’m sorry I left it so long.”

Upon greeting his nieces and nephews, Horacio was struck by how much they had all grown up since his last visit. Ana María was the spitting image of her mother. Juan José was several inches taller than Horacio and resembled his father more than ever. And Mateo and Sofía had presumably become resentful of all the matching outfits in their younger years of being twins, going out of their way to dress as differently from each other as possible. Once they had said their obligatory hellos, they scattered around the house and no doubt wouldn’t re-appear until dinner was ready.

Right on cue, when Alejandra brought out steaming and brimming plates full of sudado de pollo, everyone rapidly took their places around the table.

Silence fell as they tucked in, the warmth and comfort of childhood cocooning Horacio from what he knew was inevitable. A welcomed interruption from his thoughts came with a soft brush against his leg, his instincts telling him it was one of the cats issuing their own greeting. But he should have known better.

As they ate and endured the usual family small talk, Javier's foot became Horacio's anchor, subtle and soothing rubs against his ankle unseen under the table. Steady, grounding, home.

------------------------------------------------------

Horacio carried the last few empty plates to the kitchen, where piles of dishes were already stacked high. He had left Javier with Juan José and Mateo, who were showing off the latest video games they had got for Christmas – and were comfortably beating Javier at them, too.

“I’ll wash; you dry. For old times’ sake,” Alejandra said without looking up from the sink where she was filling the basin with water and suds.

“Okay. On the condition we both tidy everything away afterwards.”

“Deal. You’ll just put it in the wrong place unsupervised anyway.”

Horacio swatted the tea towel he’d picked up in her direction, only for her to retaliate by flicking bubbles in his hair.

“We did okay with dinner, didn’t we? I haven’t made that in a long time,” Horacio said.

“You had a good teacher.”

“So did you.”

“Oh, I know. I think that’s why Papá always loved it. We were all in there somewhere.”

“Like our Christmas tamales.”

“Oh, yeah, he couldn’t get enough of those. Remember we always had to make an extra batch for him to take to work?”

“He said they were to share with his unit, but I’m not sure many made it that far.”

Now they were laughing as they worked in tandem, Alejandra changing the water as Horacio cleared the draining board, ready for the next load.

“Did you ever feel like you let him down?” Horacio asked after a long silence, both siblings seemingly waiting for the other to fill it.

“Of course. You know Papá didn’t approve of Fabián at first, right?”

“What?”

“You must’ve heard the arguments?”

“To be fair, there were plenty of arguments between you and Papá.”

“Yeah, and they were mostly about me daring to marry someone other than a cop.”

“That’s what it was about?”

“Mostly. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Fabián; I just think he had suitors picked out for me. People he knew he could trust.”

“But they got along in the end, didn’t they?”

“Once Papá had got over himself, yeah.” Alejandra let out a nostalgic laugh, which Horacio quickly joined in with. “He could be tough when he wanted to be, but…he meant well,” she settled on. “Once he saw how happy I was and how Fabián had taken after his father with the farm, he came around. It was never personal with Papá. It’s just the way he was.”

“So, you don’t think he’d be disappointed in me…” Horacio paused to swallow, his throat drier than a Texan summer. “For quitting?” he got out eventually.

Alejandra gave Horacio a look he’d seen countless times over the years. One only a big sister could give her little brother when she had to feign ignorance of something she had already discovered for herself. The perks of being the eldest.

“How did you know?”

“Horacio, are you really asking that of someone who has been surrounded by cops all her life?”

Horacio rolled his eyes but let Alejandra have that one unchallenged.

“I thought you might have been discharged on medical grounds, to be honest. I hoped you’d seen sense. Or maybe met someone.”

“I wasn’t discharged, but I negotiated a payout after my injury.”

Alejandra released a self-satisfied hum, a whisp of a smile threatening to break free from the corners of her mouth. “Two out of three’s not bad, I suppose.”

Horacio gulped hard enough for Alejandra to hear; he had no doubt about that. But no words followed, not even when he caught her eye.

“You love him, don’t you?” It wasn’t an accusation or an interrogation. In fact, it was barely even a question.

“Yes.” It caught Horacio off guard how fast he answered. How direct and concise he’d been.

“And he loves you.” There was no pretence of a question mark now, but rather a clarification of a well-established fact. A rite of passage both parties needed to hear.

“He does.”

“Enough to walk away from it all, too.”

Horacio nodded, scared the lump in his throat would give way to something else as his glassy gaze met Alejandra’s.

“His father – Chucho – owns a ranch in Laredo, Texas. That’s where I went after…” he trailed off, not wishing to dwell on the finer details of the ambush. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you. I hated lying after everything we’ve been through. But I figured the less you and Mamá knew, the safer it was.”

“I had a feeling you’d left Colombia. But Texas?” Alejandra blew out a low whistle. “That’s the part we’ll need to prepare Mamá for.”

“They’re Mexican-American. And the ranch is right on the border by the river.”

“I’d lead with that part if I were you. Not sure you can avoid a lecture about fraternising with Spanish colonisers, though. Twice.”

“I got that the first time I moved over there. But she went quiet when I reminded her Madrid was good enough for Simón Bolívar.”

Alejandra’s shoulders shook in unison with Horacio’s until a comfortable silence fell between them.

“So, you were there a whole year?”

“Just over. I couldn’t do much to help for the first few months – whilst this healed.” Horacio flexed his right arm to prove to Alejandra that everything was back in working order. “But it was good to have a routine eventually.”

“Wait a minute…you worked on the ranch?”

“No need to sound so surprised when you live here. I was actually pretty good at it. And I liked it.” Although Horacio understood and returned his sister’s bemusement because even he had shocked himself.

“No, I’m not. It’s just…oh, Horacio...” Alejandra broke off to bring her hand to his cheek, her brow creased, but her eyes caught between being on the brink of a smile and tears. “Look at you.”

Horacio made a show of wiping away the suds from his cheekbone, hoping he wouldn’t still have an audience afterwards. But no such luck. “It’s not what I expected to happen – any of it. But it just....felt right. I know that probably doesn’t make sense.”

“Actually, it makes perfect sense.”

“Does it?”

“Well, for starters, I can see the appeal. Obviously. Can’t blame you for going for a younger man, either. And taller.”

Horacio rolled his eyes and hoped his face didn’t look as hot as it felt. “Not by that much. On either count.”

“Hey, no judgment from me. But seriously, of course, it makes sense. I know we all used to joke about you being married to your job, but…after Juliana, I did wonder if there was more to it than that.”

“I think burying myself in work killed two birds with one stone.”

“It was killing you.”

“I know.”

“And Papá would have told you the same.”

A hollow laugh escaped Horacio’s throat, Martínez’s words from the wedding still ringing intrusively in his ears. “I’d have been kicked out of the force. He’d have made sure of that. And I wouldn’t have blamed him.”

“Right, because you were the first officer on Colombian soil to commit violence or be used as a political weapon.”

“He was against it, Alejandra. La Violencia was enough for anyone to see in a lifetime.”

But that was just another in a long line of civil wars. Even if his father's life hadn’t been cut short, he would have seen yet another bloody outbreak in which the state did more to perpetuate the death toll than bring peace to the country. And Horacio had plenty of blood on his hands. At least his Papá was spared witnessing that.

“And you don’t think he was ever put in a compromising position back then? You don’t think La Violencia was why he didn’t want the same for you? You won’t remember much, and Mamá and Papá never spoke about it around us, but I got pretty good at listening through doors.”

“He never did talk about it. Even when I was older.”

Not that he really needed to, Horacio conceded. Even though they were kept relatively safe and away from the violence in Medellín compared to other regions of Antioquia – particularly the rural parts – he had heard enough over the years to fill in the blanks.

He remembered his Mamá’s stories of helping the displaced, those who sought refuge in the city. Thousands who had been forced to flee the violence and start over again, often in makeshift housing on the outskirts, the irony never lost on Horacio that one of those neighbourhoods became Comuna 13. But for all his Mamá’s tales and the work she continued to do until she left for Manizales, his Papá never spoke about those years.

“He was protecting you. Like Mamá was with us after he died. Sometimes silence is easier.”

“I know. I get it. Before he died, the cocaine trade hadn’t got going in Colombia yet. It was mostly marijuana. But with FARC around and the gringos spreading their anti-communist propaganda, he knew it was a question of when, not if, another war was coming. I think he hoped things would be different this time.”

“You did what you had to do, Horacio. Just like he did. Just like every generation of our family did to survive. What’s done is done.”

“I’m not sure you’d say that if you knew everything.”

“You think I never heard any of the rumours out here? Or picked up a newspaper once in a while?”

“You never said anything.”

Alejandra shot Horacio a cutting glare, the kind he was an expert at delivering, but only a select few could get away with throwing back at him. “I knew you wouldn’t talk about it even if I asked.”

Horacio scoffed. Touché. “Not all of it was true.”

It was Alejandra’s turn to laugh. “Well, I kinda figured you weren’t dead after you called.”

“I don’t just mean the ambush.”

“I know,” she said briskly.

But Horacio couldn’t ignore the relief in her body language. Even though he understood it, a wave of shame hit him for even planting a seed of doubt in her – his older sister, the mother of his nieces and nephews – mind in the first place.

“But that’s all in the past now,” he concluded, shutting down his own train of destructive thought. “And you’re right; Papá’s not here. But Javier is.”

“So your future’s in Laredo, then.”

“Are you mad?”

“Am I mad that my little brother is finally getting his shit together and is head over heels in love? Oh, yeah, I’m livid.”

An inferno had spread across Horacio’s cheeks, and he struggled to think of a response. But luckily for him, Alejandra wasn’t done yet.

“It’s…safe, though, right? For you both to live together?”

“As safe as anywhere else. Every country has its problems. I’m sure there’ll always be people with something to say. But we’ve been careful.”

“Just promise me you’ll keep being careful.”

“We will, I promise.”

“I can’t guarantee I’ll convince Mamá to visit in the summer, though.”

“That’s fair. But you do think she’ll want to visit?”

“She might be strong, but we know what she lost – what we all lost. So, if there’s a chance for you to share your life with someone as she did with Papá, to be safe – to be happy after everything – yeah, I think she'll want to visit.”

“Do you think Papá would if he could?” Horacio knew it was a loaded grenade of a question and unfair to ask. But he couldn’t help himself.

Alejandra hesitated, seemingly aware she was between a rock and a hard place. “Maybe in his old age. Or if he knew Javier saved your life.”

“How did –?”

She expelled a comedically dramatic sigh. “Keep up, manito. When you called, you told me the DEA came after you that night. I don’t need to hold a badge to guess who that was.”

Horacio was banged to rights once more as he tried to recall the exact information he had relayed to Alejandra in the hours after the ambush; evidently, it was more than he thought.

“He – and his partner, Steve – went against orders and got suspended for helping me and my men.”

“So, they took a leaf out of your book then?”

“Something like that.”

Before Horacio could overthink it, he took a deep breath and told Alejandra everything. From the blackmail to his and Javier’s resignations to their year in Madrid, it all came tumbling out whilst she kept washing and he kept drying. Just like old times. Just like their Papá was in the next room along with their Mamá. And in so many ways, he always would be, not as a ghost of their past, but forever a part of their present and future.

------------------------------------------------------

Arriving during the week had its advantages, as it wasn’t necessary for Horacio to make excuses to get an early night. Work and school beckoned in the morning for most of the household, so the evening had ended in a low-key fashion.

That was more than fine by Horacio after a long drive and an overdue heart-to-heart. He lay on his side, his back nestled into Javier’s chest in the centre of the spare room’s double bed. They made up the fold-out bed for pretences, but it was purely extra space to store their luggage.

A bedside lamp and hints of moonlight peaking around the edges of the curtains cast the room in soft shadows, the low murmur of a telenovela in one of the nearby bedrooms the only sound to be heard at this hour.

“How old were you there?” Javier asked, his voice muffled against Horacio’s shoulder where he’d temporarily paused his trail of kisses after picking out one of several framed photos on the wall.

“The one from Alejandra’s wedding? I’d have been 24.”

“Cute curls.” Javier’s nose nuzzled against the back of Horacio’s head, which was sadly lacking the same unruliness as in the photo.

“Fuck you.”

Javier sniggered. “Hey, I was being serious! They suit you. Plus…more to grab hold of.” He slid a hand into Horacio’s hair as his mouth resumed its work along bare skin.

Horacio’s back arched with a sigh as he leaned into Javier’s touch. “You know we can’t get carried away. Not here.”

“I know.” Of course, Javier understood. It was one thing for him to have sneaked in and out of the guesthouse back in Laredo; it was quite another to be under the same roof as Horacio’s whole family. But that didn’t stop the almost petulant tone in Javier’s voice. He was still human, after all.

“I promise we’ll make up for it once we leave.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

Despite their flirtation, exhaustion was thick in their throats and pressed heavily on their limbs, pushing them closer towards sleep as the butterflies in their stomachs finally settled.

“The wedding wasn’t that long after Papá died. Alejandra asked me to give her away instead. At first, I didn’t think I deserved to take Papá’s place. But I think she needed me there with her, so, I said yes.”

“Of course you did, and I bet she never forgot that.”

“No, and I’ll never forget tonight."

------------------------------------------------------

It was still dark in the spare room when Javier stirred and untangled himself from Horacio as slowly as possible. He had woken up thirsty and threw on a precautionary pair of jeans before tiptoeing down the wooden staircase towards the kitchen.

The clock on the oven read 01:30am, so he wasn't expecting to find the spotlights above it switched on. He searched through the cupboards until he found a tumbler and filled it with water from the tap, taking large gulps until the glass was drained.

“So, you’re a night owl too, then?”

“Shit!” Javier hissed, spinning around with a sharp intake of breath, almost dropping the glass on the tiled floor.

“Sorry,” Alejandra whispered. “I was just reading before heading off to bed.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine. I just needed some water. Didn’t think anyone else would be up.” Javier was suddenly very aware of the fact he was standing half naked in the middle of the kitchen, Horacio’s necklace like a flashing beacon at his chest. “Obviously,” he added with an awkward huff, looking down at his state of semi-undress.

“Right,” Alejandra replied with a stifled laugh. “How about you avoid catching a chill whilst I find something a bit more…authentic than tap water?”

Once Javier came back downstairs with his chest now covered, Alejandra was sat at the kitchen table with two shot glasses and a bottle of aguardiente.

“Not sure my stomach can handle any more of that after the wedding.”

“Lightweight. And just think of it as an initiation.”

Javier sighed in defeat, accepting the challenge as he took a seat opposite Alejandra.

She unscrewed the bottle and tipped measures into each glass. “Wanna make this more interesting?”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Three shots, three questions each. But you can only ask a question after you’ve emptied your glass.”

Javier laughed for a second, unsure what he imagined Alejandra to be like, yet somehow, she surprised him anyway. “Okay. Already sounds better than every other icebreaker inflicted on me. Who goes first?”

“Guest’s choice.”

He stared down at his glass as though it was the barrel of a gun, remembering why he had eventually insisted whiskey was his and Horacio’s go-to drink. When he first arrived in Colombia, Horacio would offer him a shot, pouring liberally from the stash of aguardiente in his office drawer, and Javier accepted on multiple occasions. But it was over and done with like a spoonful of caustic medicine. At least whiskey could be drunk slower and delayed saying goodnight.

That wasn't the order of things now, though. So, Javier grabbed the bull by the horns and threw back his glass, wincing at the aniseed burn as it slid down his throat.

“New rule: you’ve got 30 seconds to come up with a question. Otherwise, you take another shot.”

“Alright, alright, I’m thinking.”

Alejandra’s gaze fell on the oven clock, ramping up the pressure. “10 seconds left…”

“Okay. I’ve got one. What was it like growing up with a younger brother?”

“Annoying, obviously. Especially after he got the highest grade in his English class. I don’t know where he picked them up, but he knew all the swear words. Of course. He drove me crazy testing them out.”

“He did that to my old partner, Steve – his Spanish isn’t great, and Horacio sure liked to remind him whenever he got the chance.”

“Sounds about right. No wonder he liked you – best of both worlds.”

“Maybe.” Javier knew what Alejandra meant, but it didn’t stop heat from spreading through his cheeks regardless.

“He was generally pretty quiet at school,” Alejandra continued, "but not afraid to take the lead…or break a few rules.”

“Again, I’m not surprised.”

“Nope.” They both laughed at that. “He always liked to be moving, though. Doing something with his hands. Or playing sports – he was a good runner. We used to race each other around Jardín Botánico, and he would always beat me. I think he already knew he was in training for the Academy. So, obviously, he was accepted. No doubt some thought he got a free pass, but he was determined to prove himself. Then he had to grow up.”

The joviality faded abruptly from Alejandra’s face, transforming into a wistful smile.

“We both did. But at least I’d had more time with Papá. Good job I did have those few years to myself ‘cos Horacio followed him around like a shadow. Until he couldn’t. Then he thought he had to be the man of the house. Even when there were two much more qualified women for the job.”

“He thought it was his duty."

“Yeah. He did.” There was something akin to awe in how Alejandra looked at Javier, as though she was simultaneously taken aback and impressed that someone summed up and understood her brother so accurately and succinctly.

“Isn’t it your turn, now?” Javier asked after a moment of silence.

Without further hesitation, Alejandra downed her shot. “Why Colombia?”

“Why not Colombia?” He tried a feeble laugh but knew that wouldn't cut it. “I studied Gabriel García Márquez in high school. Although, can’t say I really got him at the time. Took me another try when I was older.”

Now he thought about it, Javier wasn’t convinced he exactly got him the second time around either, considering García Márquez’s views on extradition aligned fiercely with Horacio’s. But that was the luxury of hindsight.

“By then, my Mamá had long since passed, my fiancée had just become my ex, and I had no fucking clue what I was doing with my life. Guess I needed to get lost in someone else’s problems for a while.”

“Tell me about it.” Alejandra held a book up in the air that had been abandoned on the table since Javier joined her.

“Smart move. My teacher loved telling us how García Márquez moved to Mexico and wrote One Hundred Years of Solitude over there. And with how things went down in Laredo, I could see the appeal of starting over in another country. Mexico was…too close to home. The drug war was getting out of hand. More and more agents were being transferred. And what’s the line?” Javier broke off, eyes cast towards the ceiling as he licked his lips in concentration. “‘We came’, they said, ‘because everyone is coming’.”

Alejandra let a pause of bewilderment pass between them as she studied Javier with intrigue. “You’re not at all like the other gringos he’s worked with in the past.”

“Did he bring any of them home to his family?”

“No. You’re the first. As I’m sure you're aware.”

“Maybe.”

“Drink up.”

Javier did as he was told, repressing a cough as the potent liquid worked its magic. “Why did you choose farm life over being a cop?”

Alejandra laughed a little too loudly, considering the time. “There are other career choices, you know.”

Javier gasped. “There are?”

“Hard to believe, isn’t it? But that’s not quite how it went for me. The farm came with Fabián. They’re sort of a package deal. I’m sure you can understand that.” She threw Javier a knowing smile. “But I ruled out being a cop years before I moved here or met Fabián. I knew from Papá that women in the force were few and far between back then. They’re still pretty scarce now. I wasn’t up for putting myself in the firing line being a General’s daughter. They never would have respected me or believed I got there on my own merit. I didn’t want to spend my life trying to gain anyone's approval.”

“Makes sense. It’s not easy in the force if you’re…different from the rest."

“Exactly. I’m not sure it’s what Papá even wanted for me anyway. Because he knew what it’d be like. Then there was Mamá with her social work. She was in her element. Always fighting someone’s corner, especially during the suffrage movement. I think I was the odd one out in the family, ‘cos everyone else seemed to have…a calling except for me. So, I studied, got a business degree, became a buyer for various companies and ended up in the coffee industry. And the rest is history.”

“Good for you. And I guess that explains Horacio’s, er, distaste for a badly made cup of coffee.”

“Yep. He’s got no excuse. And neither do you anymore.”

“I’ll bear that in mind. Your turn.” Javier took the bottle this time and filled Alejandra’s glass.

She downed it in one go. “¿Por qué no un llanero ahora que has descartado ser policía?” (Why not a llanero now you’ve ruled out being a police officer?)

“¿Por qué no un vaquero?” (Why not a vaquero?) Javier corrected with a glint in his eye that Alejandra returned with an eye roll. “Like you said…there are other jobs. That one was just never for me. I need more variety day-to-day. Like I’m making a bigger difference somehow. But preferably without the pretty fucking significant risk of death or blackmail.”

“A fair demand.”

“Right? It’s not like I’m asking for a raise.”

“When I moved here, I didn’t know where life was taking me, especially when the kids came along. I couldn’t keep my old job because of all the travelling…and being a mother was the priority until they started school. It took me a while to find my place on the buying and selling side of the business. So, all I’m saying is, things might get clearer once you’re settled back in Laredo.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Javier raised his glass and nodded his thanks to Alejandra, touched by her unprompted advice.

His third and final question had arrived, and the pressure to make it a good one pressed uncomfortably on his increasingly fuzzy head. “If your father was here now, what would you say to him?”

For a brief second, Javier feared he had overstepped some forbidden and invisible line and been overfamiliar with someone he only really knew by proxy at this stage.

But whilst Alejandra’s smile was permanently stained with traces of grief, warmth flickered then grew in her charcoal eyes. “I’d tell him we’re fine. That we miss him and wish he’d come back for good but that he needn’t worry. Because even though Mamá didn’t always get things right, she steered us through it as best she could. And we didn’t turn our backs on the world. That we found love in the dark.”

Alejandra sniffed and wiped the back of her hand across her nose. “Sorry. I think it’s the alcohol.”

“No, don’t be sorry.” Javier paused to clear his throat, blinking his vision back into focus. “It was beautifully said.” His hand reached for hers across the table, hoping again that he hadn’t gone too far.

But she let his hand rest there until she shook her head like a wet dog and poured her final shot. “Same question to you about your mother, obviously,” she said before downing the aguardiente in one.

Javier scoffed. “Well, I guess I deserved that.” He took his time, collecting his thoughts as though he was preparing an important speech. As though he’d been trying to find the right words for most of his life – and how rarely he’d succeeded.

“I’d tell her I miss her morisqueta. I’d tell her Pops visits her every week. But then I think she already knows that. Same way I think she made sure he never re-married.”

Javier couldn’t help but laugh, seeing with perfect clarity where his own loyal streak came from when his Pops was still as devoted to Mariana as the day they married. Siempre tuyo was no exaggeration.

“I’d make sure she knew he wasn’t alone, though. That he was known as Don Chucho to most in Laredo. That she’d be proud of him for growing the community she helped start. I’d brag about all the tamales we’ve made and quote her favourite poems. I’d introduce her to Horacio.”

He envisaged showing her Horacio’s poetry book, knowing that all it would take was for her to read Javier’s message in the opening pages to understand everything about who they were to each other. He’d even dreamed of it, waking with a ridiculous hope that she had somehow intercepted it.

“She sounds as incredible as your father. I hope one day I can thank him for taking my little brother under his wing when he needed it the most.”

“I’m sure that could be arranged.”

“I can’t – and don’t want to – imagine where he would have ended up without either of you, to be honest. He told me about the ambush…and everything else. And even though it doesn’t feel nearly enough, I just want to say...thank you.”

At first, Javier could only nod and swallow the lump bobbing at the base of his throat. “He did the same for me. It wasn’t easy walking away from my job, don’t get me wrong, but it was different for him. He felt like he’d betrayed Colombia and his Papá. Yet he did it anyway.”

“When it’s the right person, the sacrifices are worth it. And I can’t think of anyone more worthy of wearing that.” Alejandra’s sightline had fallen to Javier’s neck. His chest may have now been covered, but the silver chain still poked out from beneath the seam of his shirt.

She poured them a bonus shot each and raised her glass. “Welcome to the family.”

#Narcos fic #Narcos #Javier Peña #Horacio Carrillo #Carrillo #Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo #Pedro Pascal #Maurice Compte #Narcos fanfic #Narcos fanfiction #Narcos fan fic #My Fan Fic #My Narcos Fic

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crazyk-imagine · 9 months

Text

Gym Crush

Pairing: Benny Miller x Gym crush!reader

Characters: Benny Miller, William "Ironhead" Miller, Francisco "Catfish" "Frankie" Morales, Santiago "Pope" Garcia, Gym Crush!reader, Samantha (reader's friend)

Warnings: Fluff, cursing (briefly), gym, gym things, reader is a trainer and trains with her friend, I'm sad, I know gym things because of work, Benny is like horny but also not, Frankie is a tired old man, Santi a big flirty hoe, I feel like Will feels like he has no personality :(

Word Count: 1,959

A/N: Not gonna lie, while writing this... I had a thought. This is the first part of the non-official series/ universe for the TF boys called (in my mind) "Gym World"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The boys, Will, Santiago, and Frankie have always known when something’s up with the baby of the bunch. It’s hard not to.

It consumes him until he barely has anything left to offer. That’s why they knew this was something different.

Instead of running to the woman (he deems to be the woman of his dreams) he, instead, runs from her. Or, in better words, avoids her entirely.

Ever since they came home after their last mission, they’ve been living their lives the way they want to… or at least Frankie and Santiago are.

Will is slowly working a little more on himself, not wanting to scare off anyone else in his life like he did with his ex-fiancée.

And now, Benny’s life mainly consists of working out, preparing for his fights while working at his annoying side job as a convenient store clerk.

Today was no different for him, train and then go out for a celebratory drink.

Usually with the way he acts when he sees you, none of the guys want to come with him anymore and it makes sense since he’ll either stare while you work out and he thinks you don’t notice (you do) or glance in your direction and check to see if you’re getting closer, wanting to try and ask you out (never happens).

Will shakes his head, “you’re shameless.”

Benny hangs from the pull bar, smirking at his brother. “Better to be shameless.”

“Then?” Frankie chimes, finding himself intrigued.

“Nothing, just better to be shameless.”

"He's back." You move your headphones over your ear to hear your friend, Samantha better. "What'd you say?"

She purses her lips, "you know exactly what I said."

You smirk, "no I don't."

She groans and throws her head back. "Why are you like this?"

"Like what?"

"Next is the rower."

Your cheeky attitude quickly falls from your face.

Samantha points at your fallen expression and starts laughing.

Benny hides his humor when he sees you stomping over towards the rower.

You pout, strapping your feet in, “I hate this!”

She smirks, “I know! But we’re gonna do,” Samantha pauses, thinking about how bad she should torture you. “Three reps for five minutes with wall sits as your forty second break.”

Your eyes widen at her words. “No.” You shake your head, “nuh uh. No way.” You start to remove the straps.

“I have four back-to-back clients in an hour, and I need to be able to crawl and not walk.”

He drops down from the bar, wiping himself dry with the towel he keeps nearby (curtesy of Will).

Frankie nods to the older Miller, “you go get him, I’ll deal with Benny.”

Will sighs and runs after Santiago who’s trying to flirt with some of the other girls around. They’re not going for it, and he doesn’t want to have to talk to another security guard because his friends an idiot.

The younger Miller takes a step forward only to be stopped. “Ben, your fights in three hours we need to go.”

“I-” he sighs, glancing back at you. “Yeah, alright. Let’s go.”

The next couple of days are quiet and you don't see much of “your” mystery guy, it makes you a little sad to be honest.

And then, there he is, as if he was reading your mind, he shows up with the other guys he’s almost always with.

"Guess who's back to cure you of your depression?"

You roll your eyes and shake your head, shoving Samantha away from you. “Stop it.”

She chuckles as you head out of the employee office, grabbing your phone on the way out. “I’m going to work out while I wait for my next client to arrive.”

She nods before heading out.

‘Maybe today’s the day.’ You can feel his eyes on you. You continue to think about what to do while stretching. You catch his gaze in the mirror and a decision’s been made.

Santiago smacks Frankie’s shoulder when he sees you coming closer. “What?”

The latter turns, “oh shit.”

“What’s going on with you two?” Will asks, glancing between the two of them, waiting for an answer.

Santiago points to the space in front of Benny.

He doesn’t see you there at first, focusing on finishing his last set before getting off the machine he was using. “Oh shi-”

You chuckle, crossing your arms. “Hey, there.”

“Hey.”

“I noticed you’ve been staring at me for a bit. You got something you want to say?”

If he were a cartoon, his eyes would be as wide as his head followed by a nosebleed. “It’s- it’s not like that.”

“Then what’s it like?” You cross your arms. “I’m thinking you’re planning something hinky and quite frankly it worries me-”

His eyes widen even more. “No, no. I mean- I just- I didn’t mean to…” He pauses when he sees the way you try to hide your laughter. “Oh, you’re messing with me. Awesome.”

“Sorry, it was just too easy not to. But seriously, about the staring. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, sorry. I- you’re really,” he gulps, “good.”

You raise a brow.

“I’m just saying, I don’t normally see people pushing themselves as hard as you do… or when your friend does.”

You chuckle, “that’s true. But it’s not really anything worth admiring, it’s your average trainer workout”

“Well, I can tell you that you do a damn good job. I’m impressed.”

“Well, consider me flattered. A handsome guy like yourself, commenting on my workouts, kind of makes a girl want to ask said guy for his number and make him her workout partner.”

He glances behind him before pointing at himself, earning a nod from you. “You’re serious?”

“I don’t joke about these kinds of things,” you pull yourself up on the pullup bar, something you’ve noticed he goes on more than anything here. “Which is something you’ll learn about, the more we talk.”

He’s never pulled his phone out of his pocket faster than he did right now. “You want to hand me your phone?”

“You’re gonna do this one handed?”

“No, I just wanted to try and impress you.” You jump down and smile at him.

He is more than willing to offer his phone to you. “I sent a text to my phone so now you have my number.”

“Great.”

“If I don’t hear from you before nine tonight, I can’t promise I’ll be as speedy with my responses.”

“So, I should text you now?” He jokes.

You shrug, “whatever you think is the smartest decision.”

The dopey smile on his face never leaves even after Santiago starts teasing him again. “Wow, I never thought you’d ever talk to her and look at you, you didn’t burst into a puddle of desperation.”

“Can I hit him?”

“No,” Will shakes his head, “you can’t, Ben. You know that.”

“She’s coming back.”

“What?” He whips around and almost bumps into you. “Hey, you’re back.”

“I am. I’m impatient and I want to go out with you.”

He owlishly blinks, trying to get his brain to move faster so he can understand. “Really?”

“Yeah. My friend would say I’m acting desperate and insane for asking the weird guy with a staring problem out.”

He scratches the back of his head, “you guys caught that, huh?”

You pinch your fingers together. “Little bit.”

“And you still want to go out with me?”

“Don’t read too much into it. Text me when you’re done here and when you’re free later.”

You turn around and walk away, leaving the Miller, Santiago, and Frankie speechless.

“I never thought I’d say this this,” Santiago pats the younger Miller’s shoulder. “Can you teach me how you- show me your ways, wise one.”

Benny shrugs him off, pushing him away from him. “Shut up.”

“Guess we’re done here?”

Frankie glances at Will. “What makes you say that?”

“He’s going home to shower and then call her so he can finally go out with her.”

Santiago shrugs, “I mean, I guess.”

��He’s right. If you two aren’t done, you’re on your own.” Benny throws his bag over his shoulder. “Come on, Will.”

You hit the call button, “Sammy!”

“What?”

“I did it.”

“I know you did; I was there.”

“I don’t know what outfit to pick you bitch.”

“How do you even know he’s going to call? Stupid question, I know. Moving on. Do you want to look slutty or a little conservative?”

“What makes me look better? Slutty or not slutty?”

“Where’s he taking you?”

“I don’t know.”

“How am I supposed to help you pick an outfit when you don’t even know where you’re going. I’m hanging up.”

“Wait- no.” You groan and are about to toss your phone down onto your bed when you get a text from Benny.

Hot Gym Guy

‘Wear something comfortable I don’t know if I already told you where I plan on taking you it's not gonna be some anything too crazy’ 4:36pm Sent Read

You smile holding your phone just a little closer to you.

Eye Candy

‘It’s like you knew what I was thinking’ 4:38pm Sent Read

‘Makes sense seeing as you’ve been watching me over the last few months every time you were in the gym’ 4:38pm Sent Read

He chuckles hoping this is going to be a good start to the date. He’s happy he kicked Santiago and Frankie out of the house now and thankfully Will had other plans.

Now he's debating calling you to invite you over or take you out to a restaurant followed by you coming over, not for anything that would be normal for his past self (as the other guys would say).

Hot Gym Guy

‘Would you rather do something fun and casual at my place or something new and different at a restaurant?’ 4:41pm Sent Read

You don’t think he has an ulterior motive because you know that he’s being genuine and asking you so you’re not uncomfortable.

Eye Candy

‘Are you a good cook because if not I think should go to a restaurant’ 4:43pm Sent Read

‘Not to offend you, I’d like to not have food poisoning tonight’ 4:44pm Sent Read

‘We should*’ 4:45pm Sent Read

Hot Gym Guy

‘I could whip up something decent and if it’s not up to your standards then we can either go out to a restaurant or have something delivered’ 4:46pm Sent Read

‘It’s up to you.’ 4:46pm Sent Read

You shake your head, even though Sammy really thought that he was creepy; turns out he’s really the sweetest guy you've ever talked to.

Eye Candy

‘Send me your address and I’ll tell you in person’ 4:51pm Sent Read

You knock on the door and wait.

The door opens less than a minute later. “Hey.”

You smile. “Hey.”

“Have you,” he clears his throat. “Have you made a decision?”

“I hope you're as good a cook as you are handsome.”

“Oh, baby. You have no idea.”

And let’s just say the next time you guys went to the gym (together, of course) everyone you knew was thanking all the gods that you two finally got together, until they realized that your guy's fawning was going to be ten million times worse because you’re together.

"Another day of him staring at her," Frankie comments, watching you two.

"How long are we going to see this?" Will asks, working on his bicep curls.

“I don't want to see him drool again; I'm going over towards the smoothie bar." Santiago walks away.

“I don’t know but I think we need to go back and grab Santi before he does something stupid,” the ex-pilot tells the older Miller.

“For fucks sake,” Will grumbles, putting the weights back in its place. “Let’s go.”

Taglist

@casa-boiardi

#triple frontier imagine #triple frontier imagines #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier #benny miller imagines #benny miller imagine #benny miller fic #benny miller x reader #benny miller fanfic #benny miller fanfiction #benny miller x you #benny miller x female reader #benny miller x fem reader #benny miller x fem!reader #crazyk-imagine

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the-little-ewok · 10 months

Note

So, I hear you're taking prompts 👀🤭

If no one's asked (and you feel inspired), maybe you could try "slowly kissing down the body" with either Santi or Poe? (If that's then, maybe the tummy kisses instead?). Please and thank youuuu 🙏❤️

(Im)Patience

Santiago Garcia X F!Reader

Rating : E / 18+ for sexual content

Wordcount : 900 (ISH)

Warnings : Consensual use of restraints, talk of cum eating, mentions of edging, mentions of face sitting, mentions of PIV, marking/love bites, if you squint - mild sub!Santi, mild!Dom reader, mentions of Dom!Santi

Prompt/Summary : Kissing slowly down their body / Teasing Santiago until he breaks with little body kisses

A/N : Thank you for the prompt! I hope you enjoy a little Santi spice since your Neighbours fic put me in such a Santi feels mood! ;)

Un-beta'd because chaos is life. Apologies for any mistakes. It's midnight here.

The metal headboard creaks worryingly as Santiago tugs at his bonds, and you relish in the little mewl of pleasure he gives that accompanies the noise. You finish sucking a mark just above his collarbone, as his hands twist against the soft silk scarf binding him to the bed, his legs shifting restlessly beneath your weight as you sit back to admire him — his skin covered in a light sheen of sweat, pupils blown wide, lips kiss swollen, chest heaving with panted breaths.

It was so rare for him to give up complete control this way, to relinquish it to you, to allow you to take care of him in the way you know he needs. It makes your heart swell with the knowledge of the trust he's placed in you.

Although you can't help but wander if now he's starting to regret it, after who knows how long of soft touches, kisses, teasing laps of your tongue, bringing him to the edge, just to stop before he reaches his peak, and then to do it all over again.

"Hermosa, please," he groans, hips rutting up against you as you lean down to begin another trail of slow kisses down his body. "This is unfair."

You grin. Santiago was loosing his patience.

But drawing the little desperate sounds of pleasure from him was so much fun. And in part, you suppose, a little revenge for every time he had you in the same position, begging for release as he enjoyed the moment. Now you finally understood the appeal.

"All good things come to those who wait," you tease in a sing-song voice, unmoved by his begging.

Santi huffs with annoyance, flinging his head back against the pillows, dramatically growling something in Spanish you don't quite catch, but it sounds like a thinly veiled threat.

In all fairness you were dragging this out now, going back to placing tender kisses against his chest and neck, leaving little love marks in your wake, all while his hard cock twitched against your stomach, desperate for more attention. You'll pay for this later no doubt, but honestly, that's what you're counting on.

You shift your weight, moving down to litter soft kisses against his chest, before you circle your tongue over his peaked nipple.

Santi grunts out a low curse, his hands once more pulling at the makeshift restraint. If he really wanted out, he only had to say the word, but for all his complaints, Santi seems content to enjoy himself, at least at the moment.

"Tell me what you want," you whisper, your lips ghosting against his skin, echoing words he's so often used on you.

"You. Want you," he gasps as you nip at his side with your teeth, leaving him another mark.

You hum, raising your hand and allowing your fingers to barely brush against his weeping cock, causing Santi to give out a strangled moan that shoots straight to your core. He lifts his hips as you remove your hand once more, trying to chase your touch. You click your tongue in dissaproval, and shake your head at him.

"Be specific. Use your words, baby." You catch the look on his face as you repeat words he's whispered in your ear many times. His eyes hold a mixture of pride, impatience and something a little darker that makes you swallow hard, pushing down the thought of untying his wrists then and there.

He holds your gaze, steadily, defiantly, barely even blinking as he tells you exactly what he wants.

"I want to fuck your mouth, then I want to fuck your sweet pussy, fill you up until you can't take any more. Then after that, baby," he growls, his voice deliciously low, "I want you to sit on my face while I lick out every last drop of cum."

You swallow hard, your pussy clenching around nothing at the image that fills your head.

Santi smirks up at you, clearly knowing he has the upper hand, even in his prone position.

Bastard.

Your resolve hardens. Now you are going to drag this out even longer.

"Hmm we can do that…when we are done with giving you a lesson in patience." Leaning back down you continue to trail soft kisses down his body, heading towards where he wants your mouth, but far slower than ever before.

"You know Santi," you breathe, pausing to look up at him through your lashes, "I think maybe I need to go grab a bite to eat before we continue this. Its going to be a long night. Be a good boy and wait right here for me."

You press a soft kiss to his lips, which are pressed into a hard line of dissaproval at your teasing, before you pepper soft kisses across his neck, slowly manoeuvring your body off his as you go.

There's absolutely no warning for what comes next. One moment your tongue is flicking out to lick his pulse point, and the next your flipped onto your back, Santi bearing down on you, both your hands pinned to the mattress.

You have no idea how he got his hands free, or how long he's had them free for, and all thoughts of asking disappear as Santi's lips twist into a devilish smile.

"I think first I'll give you a lesson in impatience," he growls, before he claims your mouth in a hard kiss.

#santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia #santiago garcia x you #santiago garcia smut #santiago pope garcia #santiago pope garcia x reader #santiago garcia x f!reader

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ohforficsakelibrary · 8 months

Text

The Margay: Chapter 1

There Was Bogotá That One Time

series masterlist / main masterlist

Summary: Santi ropes Frankie into a trial-run mission that doesn't go to plan but comes with one hell of a consolation prize.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x OFC x Santiago Garcia in this part but only in this part because Bogotá was just the once. No age gap.

Word Count: 3.8K

Rating: Explicit 18+/ the beginnings of a threesome, Santi has a filthy mouth, oral over underwear bc Frankie’s a tease (f receiving) / Minors DNI

A/N: Hoooly cowww, thank you all so much for the love on Dominica as my first little foray into this world. And a special thank you to everyone who has liked and shared. Your comments (and tags!) have truly given me life.

OFC here is the reader from Dominica, although I may play with future side chapters where I flip to that pov again. No taglist, but I'll mark everything with #ohforficsake. I do hope you enjoy. Edited 11/3 - I've been asked so I will be doing a taglist, drop me a line if you're interested!

“Who the fuck else is out here, Pope?”

“No one,” Santiago sweeps the clearing in a quick circle, butt of his gun still dug into his shoulder, “no one else is supposed to be out here.”

Things hadn’t gone sideways and he hadn’t called anyone in.

And yet the mark stares back at him through lifeless eyes the same color as the leaflitter he threatens to stain red.

“Well,” Frankie gestures vaguely where he’s knelt down next to the still-warm body. “This ain’t local.”

The high-caliber bullet that blew out the back of the man’s skull is most assuredly not Nicaraguan-made.

“We have to move, Fish,” Santi says before letting out a sharp whistle. A signal to the men holding the perimeter to circle up.

“Nah, if whoever did this wanted us dead…” He lets the words hang in humid jungle air, propping the brim of his cap up just far enough to swipe damp hair from his forehead. “The angle of it’s weird though,” Frankie cants big dark eyes up into the trees even though that makes no goddamn sense.

The men have moved in by now and one of them lets out a low hiss.

“El Caucel.”

“Crees eso?” Santiago's gaze cuts towards him and then over at two other men nodding in agreement.

Two more from their team had departed towards the trucks the moment they saw the carnage.

Frankie stands upright with knitted brows before finding Santiago’s gaze.

He’s met with an imperceptible shake of the head.

And so he doesn’t open his mouth again until they’re back in their hotel room.

_____

“You got an explanation for that, Pope?”

“Not a good one.” Santi sits on the edge of a twin bed and unlaces his boots before toeing them off and flopping backwards.

Frankie stays standing, hands on his hips.

“Someone’s out there with high-caliber shit we didn’t even have as Deltas and that’s all you have to say.”

“That’s all I fuckin’ know, Fish. Look, at least we’re on the same side, ok? For now we’re on the same side. Fuck, I need a shower.”

He’s on his feet now. Clearly rattled.

“What’s El Caucel? A group? Where’d they get that kind of heat?”

“I don’t know, Fish. I don’t know if El Caucel is one guy or five…”

Santi doesn’t realize it but he’s pacing the room.

He’s useless like this.

“Go take a fuckin’ shower, Pope.”

“I need a fucking beer.”

_____

Frankie doesn’t speak again until they’re both perched on plastic chairs at the back of an open-air bar, cumbia blaring through tired but persistent speakers, waves lapping at the shore nearly on beat.

“I don’t like it, Pope," he mutters after a sip of beer. "I don’t like that people we don’t know, using shit that we don’t have, know the same things we do," each point punctuated by a finger stabbed into the table.

“They’re after the same people that we are, Fish. We were fifteen minutes late, more than likely that was our backup. I have a call out to my guy, but he’s out of pocket until tomorrow. Can we at least just leave it at that for the night?”

Somehow Santiago’s nerves aren’t as frayed as they were an hour ago.

“This isn’t what I signed up for, Pope.”

“You signed up to kill bad men and get paid, Fish. A bad man is dead today and I don’t know if you took a look at your bank account, but it’s $25K heavier than it was this morning.”

“We didn’t pull that trigger.”

“Take the fuckin’ win, Catfish.”

It's low out of Santiago's mouth. Like an order.

Frankie doesn’t run like this. Not with unknown eyes on them. And he doesn’t take money for jobs he didn’t finish. He agreed not to ask who was bankrolling this little excursion, he trusted Santi’s judgment enough for that, but things were starting to fall out of alignment.

The last time that happened they lost someone.

He doesn’t like how fucking cool Santi is right now either.

And Santiago pipes up as though he can hear the gears in Fish's head gnashing against one another. “Look, Fish. You’ve got a cold beer, the Caribbean fuckin’ Ocean right there, you’re in a beautiful tropical country instead of freezing your balls off in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere in February..."

"...There are hot girls in this bar.”

“Pope.”

“Do you trust me, Fish?”

Dark eyes lock over the table, Frankie searching for something Santi won’t give away. It takes at least a minute for the tight line of Fish’s mouth to soften into his usual pout.

“It’s a sea.”

“What?” Santi swallows a mouthful of beer.

“The Caribbean Sea.”

“Right, fuckin’, okay.” Santi grins. “The goddamn Caribbean Sea. Just enjoy it, Catfish.”

It’s not a good enough explanation, not by a fucking long shot, but he hates admitting that Santi is right. For the next few hours, there’s nothing they can do.

And for a moment, Corona and lime on his tongue and the thought of $25K in his bank account makes him ignore the insistent scratching in the back of his brain.

Dark eyes sail over Santi’s shoulder and happen to land on a woman reading in the corner, all brown skin and black curls that skim the tops of her shoulders. He can't help but notice the way she's left a few buttons on her linen shirt open.

Can't help but notice the way it allows the curve of one breast to peek out when she reaches for her drink.

“I saw her first.” Santi knows exactly where he’s looking.

“I wouldn’t, actually,” Frankie attempts to clarify, but his half-hard cock says otherwise.

“I would.”

“We’re sharing a room, Pope.”

“I’ll put a sock on the doorknob. Plus there was Bogotá that one time,” Santi arches a brow and grins before draining the rest of his beer.

Bogotá that one time and a blonde between the two of them.

There’s more space than you'd think on a twin bed.

“With $25K you can get your own goddamn room.” Fish quips.

Bogotá was before his girl. Before his kid.

“So could you. Honestly. I think you need it, Francisco. Come on, what happens in Nicaragua…”

“Nah, I’m…”

“Yeah, you need it. I’m doin’ it.”

Pope is out of his chair before Fish can bite back.

"Fuckin’ idiot," Frankie mutters under his breath and directs his gaze out to sea.

“Excuse me, miss?” Santiago purrs in Spanish, leaning over the woman’s table, his most disarming smile playing on his lips.

She angles huge green eyes up from her book and waits for Santi to continue.

“My friend over there,” Santi nods his head in Frankie’s direction. “Thinks you look like you could use a refill.”

“Your friend, or you?” She answers in the same tongue.

Santi’s teeth catch on his bottom lip.

“Myee, my uh, my friend.” Santi slips in English. “Mi amigo.”

Freud would have loved that one.

The woman sets her book aside and reaches for a packet of cigarettes, eyes cutting over to Frankie as she taps the top of the box on the table. He's lit up by red and yellow light and staring out across sand.

Plush lips wrapped around the mouth of his beer bottle, wishing the ocean would come crashing through this fuckin’ bar.

“What’s your friend’s name?”

“Freddie.”

“Tell Freddie I’ll take a gin and soda with lime, but only if he does his dirty work himself and sits down here with me.” She lights up a cigarette. “I suppose you can stay too.”

Santi lets out a sharp whistle that has Frankie on higher alert than he’d care to admit.

“Gin and soda,” Santi calls over his shoulder. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“Arabela,” she tosses the packet on top of her book.

“Sam,” Santi offers his hand and she takes it, surprised when Santi presses his lips to her knuckles.

Surprised in a turned-off way.

"What are you reading?"

She lifts the packet of Parliaments so he can glance at the title.

The Living Daylights.

"You like spy novels?"

"I think they're funny."

Frankie appears at last, two fresh beers, one gin, and three shots of tequila balanced easily between two massive hands.

The tequila was an impulse but he needs something stronger than Corona if this is Bogotá Round Two.

Which apparently it became the moment Frankie stood up from his seat.

“Freddie, this is Arabela.”

“Mucho gusto.” Frankie’s hand is shy.

All of Frankie is shy.

“I do speak English, if that’s more comfortable.”

“An American.” Santi perks up. “Where are you from, sweetheart?”

“Florida.”

“Ahh, Texas,” he jabs a thumb towards Frankie and then his own chest “and Miami. What part of Florida?”

“Orlando.”

Jesus this is boring.

_____

She actually just showed up here for dinner and a buzz because it was five minutes down the beach from her hotel. A function of convenience, nothing more.

And now with dinner over, she finds herself in need of another gin.

She’s up at the bar when two more men wander in. Not locals but not uncomfortable here either. Military, past or present, from the sound of their boots on the wood planks.

She quickly steals a glance over her shoulder. Military boys aren’t uncommon down here, and frankly not particularly interesting, but these two aren’t standard issue.

One of them looks like a good time and the other looks like trouble.

Trouble slips into a plastic chair at a table in the corner, choosing the seat that allows him to face the door. Good Time on the other hand is skating dark eyes over her bare legs.

She runs the top of one foot over her calf just for kicks as the bartender hands over fresh gin, and turns to leave the very moment that Good Time sidles up.

God it’s too easy.

She’s not here for this tonight.

But it’s been three, or was it four, months and she’s not opposed to it either.

Trouble is heated about something when his friend returns with beers.

He’s cute.

Not in a classically handsome way, his friend has that in spades.

Cocksure, chiseled jaw, perfectly coiffed hair.

No, Trouble is cute in a wound spring kind of way.

The kind of way that looks absolutely beautiful coming wildly undone.

What the fuck is in this gin tonight.

Ten minutes later when Good Time struts over, she decides she definitely isn't opposed.

_____

“What are you doing down here, baby girl?”

“Vacation. Just needed a break from work, I guess.”

Her phone buzzes face-down on the table and Santi Sam laughs.

“I like your phone case,” he grins as he pulls an identical one from his pocket.

Jesus Christ its a regular fucking Amazon phone case, how do we move this along.

“So what are you boys up to?”

He’s probably going to say something stupid like…

“Just appreciating the scenery.”

Yeah.

She checks her watch. It’s barely gone 19:30, she could still have a perfectly enjoyable night on her own.

Nope.

“Look,” she leans over the table as Good Time leans in and Trouble leans back, “I’m sure that works on someone else, but today’s not your day.”

Santi braces for the crash.

“You didn’t come over here just to chat and I’m more than happy to save all of us the grief. What’s on the table?”

“Both of us.”

No one at the table was expecting Frankie to be the one to speak up.

Pope shoots Frankie a look that swims with ‘hadn’t expected but not opposed...’

“If that’s what you want.” Frankie rumbles, arm draped over the back of his chair.

Trouble.

Something searing and unspoken in a language that Pope doesn’t understand passes between them.

“What’s your word, sweetheart?” He continues with the barest nod of his head in her direction, eyes dark. And starved.

“Bogotá.”

She hadn’t overheard them. There’s no way she could have with the music in this place.

And Frankie throws back his tequila because Frankie's not a man to question the Universe when it hands him something.

“Close the tabs,” a firm hand squeezes Santi’s shoulder as Fish stands. “Hers and ours. You. With me.”

Her with him finds them both outside, her back against the wall of the bar, cigarette nestled between her fingers, Frankie close enough that the heat coming off of him sets her nerves tingling.

He hasn’t laid a hand on her yet. One’s braced on the wall near her head, the other on his hip.

He’s angled such that she has room to slip away.

“Are you sure you want this? You can leave right now and I’ll get him out of here and we’ll pretend we never met.”

Dark eyes track the fingers that bring the cigarette to her lips.

“Is that what you want?”

“I didn’t ask about me,” he rumbles, shifting slightly closer and answering her question with his form.

“Right now,” she tilts her head to blow smoke away from him, “there’s nothing I want more.”

Frankie reaches for her cigarette, freely offered, taking a puff before he dashes it out. His fingers move to trail feather-light across her collarbone and over the buttons of her shirt nudging it open a hair.

He glances back up at her eyes and then her lips, plush and parted and waiting, and Frankie decides he can't wait any longer.

He slides the brim of his cap around backwards as his hand slides up her neck, thumb brushing her bottom lip before he replaces it with his mouth.

When Pope breezes through the door, Frankie nabs him by the back of the shirt, tongue never leaving her mouth. He pulls, slamming Santi against the wall before tearing himself away and taking a step back. His thumb comes up to brush the corner of his mouth, surveying them both.

Her dark hair is wild from his greedy fists, lips and chin reddened from his attention.

Santiago’s eyelids are heavy as he stares back.

“You started without me.” It’s restrained, darkly matter-of-fact. She reaches her hand over to wrap around the back of Pope’s neck and guides him to her, tasting his bottom lip and then his tongue. She slants half-closed eyes over to hold Frankie’s stare as she moans into Pope’s mouth.

Frankie nearly reaches out to rip her away.

“We gotta go,” is what he opts for instead.

_____

Not five minutes later, Santi’s back is pressed against the door to their hotel room. Her back is pressed to his chest. And Frankie is on his knees in front of her, nose pressed into the crotch of her cargo shorts.

Santi’s lips skate up the side of her neck as his hands splay across her stomach under her shirt, hips already searching for friction. She reaches back intending to slip her phone and card holder out of the back pockets of her shorts out of the need to feel Pope there unimpeded, pressed flush against her. He catches on, taking them both from her hands and placing them on the side table, fingertips bypassing two layers of cotton to slip just under the waistband of her underwear. He pulls her back against him by her hipbones, grinding the hardness in his jeans against the curve of her ass and she whimpers at the way it puts her just out of reach of Frankie's mouth.

Frankie pulls his shirt off up over his head, taking his backwards cap with it, and tossing them both over his shoulder into the room. He stands to occupy her mouth with his own while Pope unbuttons his shirt and lands it over the luggage rack. Santi meets Frankie’s eyes over her shoulder and nods. Fish breaks the kiss as Pope’s hands pull her against his chest once more.

She leaves one hand on Frankie’s cheek and reaches the other up to tangle in Santiago’s hair.

“We’re gonna take such good care of you, baby,” Santiago purrs into her ear. “So fucking beautiful,” he continues, mouth hot on her neck.

Frankie watches for a moment, taking in the way her plush lips are parted before he’s on his knees again.

He needs to be here. Needs to feel the heat of her on his face. Needs to get rid of this fucking fabric.

“I’m gonna hold you right here,” Santiago purrs, skating his nose over the shell of her ear, “and he’s gonna eat that pretty pussy of yours,” one hand rides further up her stomach under her shirt, “because that’s his favorite thing in the world.”

Frankie can feel goosebumps appear where he’s stroking his palms over her calves, lips tracing the chill up her thighs.

“Would you like that, pretty girl?” Santi voice is a heady whisper now, and her head falls back into the crook of his shoulder as she hums in approval.

“Need to hear you say it, baby,” Frankie murmurs against her skin.

“God, yes,” she moans and immediately Santi’s mouth finds hers, fingers making quick work of the button on her shorts. Frankie helps her out of her sandals and Pope unzips her, thumbs sliding the fabric down over her hips, passing the task off to Frankie’s fingers to take the rest of the way before moving to do the same with her underwear.

“Leave it,” Frankie bats Pope’s hands away, settling one of his own against the curve of her hip, running the other up over the back of one thigh before breathing heat against her mound. She reflexively cants her hips back against Pope’s and he hears the phone in his back pocket knock against the door before it’s tossed carelessly along with his wallet to join hers on the side table. She runs one hand over Frankie’s forearm, fingers of the other still wound in Santi’s hair.

Plush lips trace the seams of her underwear, falling everywhere but where she wants them.

And so she reaches both hands down, tangling fingers in his soft curls, short nails impatiently scraping at his scalp and she feels him smirk against her inner thigh.

Frankie hooks a hand around the back of her knee, guiding her leg over his shoulder.

“Hold her, Pope.”

Santi’s arm hooks firmly around her ribcage.

She spares a thought for the use of a call sign before suddenly there’s pressure and damp, open-mouthed heat breathed against the sodden cotton covering her core. The leg that’s still on the ground buckles, but Santiago holds her firm, grinning against her mouth.

They work well together, these two.

Frankie’s tongue traces the contours of her folds through the fabric, humming with pleasure at what little taste of her he’s able to get at. He can already tell from the feel of this alone that she’s bare below the cotton and his cock jumps at the thought.

And his cock jumps again at the thought of sharing the thought.

“Pretty girl?” Frankie rumbles, teeth catching gently against her mound as he angles his eyes up at her. “If I were to take these off…” he hooks a finger through the waistband of her panties and lets it snap against her flushed skin.

“I wouldn’t find anything under there, would I?”

He pauses and Santiago feels her grin against his mouth.

“I don’t think you would, Fish.”

“No, I think,” the bridge of his nose bumps against her clit just so and she groans against Santi’s lips. “I think you’re completely bare under here.” He inhales deep and her fingers tighten in his curls. “All of that smooth…soft…skin.” Each word punctuated by a kiss before he sucks, open mouthed against the core of her.

Pope has to hold her again.

Santi’s free hand skates up to palm her right shoulder where cream linen has fallen open before slipping his fingers under the strap of her bra, guiding it down her arm.

And Santiago’s not so much in control so much as he’s just the one they let speak.

“Is he good, princesa?” Santi asks against her lips in the lowest register of his voice. “Does his mouth feel good on you?” Santiago reaches down over her collarbone, under her shirt and bra to palm her breast, one arm still firmly locked around her ribcage.

“Fuck,” she gasps, “so good.”

Frankie hums his thanks and moves a little higher to flick his tongue over her clit. He dwells here a while, alternating light and fast with the tip of his tongue with slower, firmer strokes with the flat of it. The cotton of her thong is soaked from her slick and his mouth, and it’s not long before she turns her lips away from Santiago, panting and moaning in time with Frankie’s flicks.

“She’s close, Fish,” Pope breathes against her pulse.

“Mmm hmm,” he hums, the rumble of it causing her to buck her hips against him. Frankie lets go from where strong fingers have been digging into the thigh over his shoulder and brings his hand to her hip, both palms now holding her firm against Santi.

She can feel how hard he is through the denim that scratches against the curve of her ass. How it's taking all of Santiago's control not to grind against her there. Not to send her knocking against Fish's teeth.

Neither of these men have actually put skin against anything that matters, and yet she’s falling apart between them.

No sooner does the thought cross her mind than Frankie hooks a thumb into the crotch of her thong, pulling the gusset to the side.

He hums deep and low because he was right.

He’s just about to lick a stripe through her glistening folds when a clattering buzz rings out into the room.

All three of them startle.

Santi spares a glance down at the side table where the offending phone is casting blue light into the room.

His contact’s number.

“Fuuck,” he growls, “I gotta get this. Take her to bed, Fish.” Frankie lets her leg down from his shoulder, “and don’t you fucking dare make her come without me.”

“No promises,” he mumbles between kisses, allowing her to move him until the backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed. He sits and she straddles his hips and he bucks up against her, telegraphing what's on offer.

She presses her forehead against his as he fights to nip at her jaw, cursing softy at the feel of him before her fingers scramble to unzip his jeans.

Frankie grins, arm wrapping tight around her waist, and grinds his crotch against her heat as Santi picks up the phone.

“Hey honey, I uh...I can’t really talk right now,” Santi’s voice rings out from the hallway as if he wasn’t half naked and panting.

She props herself up briefly without breaking Frankie’s kisses in an effort to quiet the moans that he can’t seem to keep in his throat. He runs his palms down her sides to fit on her hips and pull but she’s strong.

“Santiago? Well, now that’s interesting.”

“How...how's that, babe, you called me?”

“Santiago, this isn’t your phone.”

And Santiago's blood runs cold.

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