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tropes-and-tales · 6 months

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A Bit of Color (Redux)

Day 7: Virginity (Ray Merrimen x F!Reader)

(For the 2023 Kinktober event that I created on my own because I am boring and basic and am trying to keep it simple this year...found here!)

CW: Light angst (implied attempted SA, but nothing graphic); loss of virginity; smut (Fingering, PiV, protected); 18+ only.

Word Count: 4448

AN: This is a sequel to this, and it was requested for Kinktober by @chemicalalice)

After the debacle of the Christmas gifts, and after Ray apologizes, he tries to do better. After learning about your similar childhoods—growing up in difficult military families—he finally feels a kinship to you. It’s a commonality he never had before. You with all your color and light, you baked goods for the crew, your care for them. Ray’s never known anyone so much his opposite, yet that common facet of childhood give him an in to understand you.

He tries to do better by you. He tries to not be such a dick all the time, tries to remember his home training and thank you when you do something nice for them. He tries to tell you when you do a good job; he tries to offer one of his small smiles when you make a joke.

He doesn’t tell you: when LA has an unseasonable cold snap, he uses the quilt you made him for Christmas. He doesn’t tell you that when his insomnia plagues him that night, he runs his fingers over the small, neat stitches of your handiwork, over the small blocks of soft cotton you cut and sewed together.

He doesn’t tell you that months after you gifted it to him, months after he hurt your feelings and then clumsily apologized…months after all of that, he finally realizes how much time and energy you put into this quilt. For him.

It doesn’t make him cry or anything like that. Ray has no outsized flood of emotion at the realization. It simply knocks something loose in his chest, scores a microscopic crack in the flinty wall around his heart.

-----

Your secret reveals itself after a heist. You hacked the security system of a club, the guys robbed it, and now there’s a celebration out at Bosco’s house. It’s low-key, just a laid-back thing. There’s plenty of beer in the backyard strung up with lights against the Los Angeles dusk, music playing on the speakers.

Everyone is loose, relaxed. The guys start to reminisce about their glory days in high school, and by the time there are through their first case of beer, they shift to reminiscing about their high school conquests, their first times.

Ray sits back and listens; he barely participates beyond the occasional grunt of acknowledgement or chuckle when someone makes a joke. He thinks back to high school, his football days. Holly had been a cheerleader, and they’d been each other’s first—and Ray slips back into those memories. The chatter and laughter around him fades, and he thinks back to how young he’d been then, how his future seemed to stretch out in front of him—

He's yanked out of his memories by Lavoux’s bark of laughter, then Bosco and Mack joining him.

But not you. Whatever joke Ray has missed, you’re not in on it. Which makes sense—you didn’t go to high school with them, so you’ve been quiet for most of the night. But when Ray sits up and looks at you closer, you’re slouched in your seat. You look…discomfited.

It takes a long moment for Ray to catch up, but he does. Amongst the memories of the guys’ respective first times, they asked you for yours—and when you told them you don’t have a “first time” story yet, the guys reacted with incredulity.

Ray just watches at first, his eyes bouncing between the guys and then you, their questions, and your squirming discomfort as you give sheepish answers. The guys don’t mean to make you uncomfortable, Ray guesses, but you clearly are.

“Are you religious or something?”

“No.”

“You waiting for marriage?”

“No.”

“Are you one of those…what are they called? Asexuals?”

You shake your head at that, and it makes you stammer out an explanation: that you want to, you’ve wanted to for a long time, but it’s complicated now that you’re older, that guys aren’t kind about it—

“Do you have any experience at all?” It’s Mack who asks the question, and you drop your gaze into your lap. You give a halting explanation about some moment in college at a party when a lacrosse player tried to…well, you hedge around it, you don’t say the word of what that guy tried to do to you, but you’re clear that he failed, that he’d been unable to get it up enough to do that to you, but that the moment made you fearful, and now you’re stuck, and it seems like only Ray can hear the edge of tears in your voice, the wobble in your words like you’re about to cry.

“Leave it,” he cuts in, but when you glance up at him in surprise, Ray is looking at Mack and Bosco and Lavoux. “Leave her be.”

They do. There’s a moment of awkward silence, but then Bosco shifts the conversation to the Lakers, and within a moment, everyone seems to have forgotten it.

Not you. Ray catches you staring at him from underneath your eyelashes, and when he meets your gaze, you tip him a slight nod.

Then you mouth a grateful, “thank you.”

Ray tips you a nod back. He doesn’t acknowledge the feeling in his chest, the dull ache: another knock against that flinty wall, another hairline crack in his defenses.

-----

Months pass. If any of the guys remember that night and the revelation of your virginity, they don’t mention it to Ray. You obviously don’t mention it either.

Ray doesn’t forget it. It surfaces in his thoughts when he has a quiet moment, when he’s lying in bed during one of his bouts of insomnia. His imagination pulls together that moment in college with the lacrosse player, and it makes Ray sick to think of you: sunny, colorful you. Young but already so steeped in tragedy with the death of your father. The universe was cruel to put you in the path of a drunken rapist, so much larger than you. Even if you escaped before the worst could happen, you didn’t escape unscathed, and here you are years later, wanting to be intimate with someone but too scared to do it.

You need someone you trust, Ray thinks. Someone you feel safe with. Someone who will keep your confidence, who won’t tease you. Someone who will take you seriously and understand how important losing your virginity must be for you.

Sometimes, when he’s lying sleepless under your quilt, he wonders if he might be that someone.

-----

More months pass. The crew is laying low since Mack got busted for a bullshit parole violation. They go semi-straight, work in the garage working on cars and trucks. They spend their evenings on their own, in a fallow season until Mack gets sprung in a few months.

You pick up work bartending, and Ray stops by a few nights a week. He sits at the corner of the bar and usually stays silent, but when it’s quiet in the bar, you’ll come and talk to him. Which with Ray mostly means you talk to him and he listens as he sips at his beer.

But the bar isn’t in the best neighborhood, and soon Ray finds himself there every night you’re scheduled. He stays until closing time, and it isn’t long before he goes from walking you to your car to just driving you home outright.

It isn’t long before you go from sliding out of his truck with a thank you and a wave to inviting him in for a beer.

When he notices that you’ve started stocking your fridge with his beer of choice, he doesn’t mention it.

If you notice that he lingers longer each night he drives you home, that he nurses that beer a little longer, you don’t mention it either.

-----

Mack’s release date keeps getting pushed back. It’s the legal system and its red tape at its finest.

You and Ray fall into a rhythm. He drives you home after your shifts at the bar. You give him beer, but you also feed him a late-night dinner. It’s never anything spectacular, usually just reheated leftovers, but he likes the cozy domesticity of it. Eating your food while he sits on your couch, you eating beside him. Nearly close enough to touch.

A long time has passed since the last heist. A long time since your reluctant admission to being a virgin, but Ray has never forgotten it. He’s mulled it over like it’s a problem to solve; like the complex blend of your past trauma and societal expectations are, say, the schematics to a bank vault.

“You need someone you trust,” he blurts out one night. You’ve been chatty all evening, telling him about some friend of a friend who got engaged. You’re a little down on yourself—the news of the engagement has sent you into a minor tailspin. You think you’re so far behind everyone that you’ll never catch up.

“Huh?”

“If you want to lose your virginity,” he clarifies, but he keeps his eyes fixed on the bottle of beer in his hand. “You need someone you trust.”

“Oh.” He feels the tension seep off you. He winces inwardly to have made you uncomfortable, but he plows forward. It’s a problem he wants to help you solve, and he doesn’t examine why he wants to help you so much.

“It doesn’t have to be a big deal,” he continues. “You just need someone you feel safe with.”

It takes you an entire month more when you finally ask him. You don’t meet his eyeline when you haltingly tell him that you trust him. That you feel safe with him.

You’re so quiet, so unlike yourself when you tell him. He can feel the fear and hesitation in you, and he can feel his own response to you trusting him enough to consider this: the hairline cracks in his stony heart growing wider, fault-lines nearly wide enough to let you slip in entirely.

*****

You keep expecting there to be a reveal, a moment where the guys jump out and make fun of you. You keep expecting this to have been an elaborate put-on by Ray and the guys, a cruel joke at your expense.

You’ve never been more wrong in your life.

Ray plans everything, which is pretty much Ray’s thing. You wonder how much difference there is between planning a heist and planning the loss of your virginity, in Ray’s eyes.

You don’t have enough experience with men to catch the way his gaze falls on you, turns soft by a degree or two. You don’t notice that he gifts you with his rare, small smiles more than ever. You don’t notice—how could you? —that Ray has fallen in love with you, a falling of miniscule moments, of quiet instances where you creep into his heart like groundwater finding its level.

How could you notice that? Even Ray hasn’t noticed it, and he has far more romantic experience than you.

He plans everything. He sets the date. He comes to your house, paper bag in hand, and you guess it’s condoms, but you notice that he’s put effort into himself: he’s cleaned up his facial hair. He’s put on a nicer shirt, and when he walks past you, you catch the scent of a recent shower—the slight spice of his body wash, the clean smell of his shampoo.

He brings a bottle of Moscato for you, but he’s clear—stern, in fact—that it’s just to take the edge off. It’s just to smooth out the rough spikes of your fear.

“You need to stop if you feel yourself getting tipsy,” he tells you as he pours you a glass. “You are in control tonight, so you need to be in control of yourself first.”

When your hand trembles as it grasps the wine glass, Ray’s eyes turn soft. He reaches out and lays one of his big hands over yours, steadies you.

“Everything is fine,” he tells you, low and soft like he doesn’t want to spook you. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want, okay?”

-----

Ray has thought of everything.

The realization of how much thought and effort he put into this makes you flush from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. Ray Merrimen, your favorite grump. The stone-faced, unsmiling behemoth who glowers from the shadows and leads the crew like some grouchy demi-god.

Who thought he could be so gentle? He takes his time. He leads you carefully, but he checks in with you at each new step. From sitting together on the couch, his palm gently laid on your bare knee as you sip at your wine. From when he eases the glass out of your hand, then carefully tilts your face towards his. From when he studies your expression before he leans in and presses a plush kiss to your mouth.

From when he builds up the kisses: from closed-mouth to open, to teasing you when he sucks against your lower lip, when he slips his tongue against yours. When he chuckles at the first low, involuntary moan you loose just from his mouth against your neck. When his hands find your breasts and palms them softly through your shirt, when his thumbs find the pebbled nipples even through your shirt and your bra, and when he breathes in your ear how much fun he's going to have drawing your pleasure from you.

When you shiver at his words, he draws away and studies your face again. There’s a question in his eyes, so you nod at him.

“I’m okay,” you say. “I’m fine.”

He studies you a beat longer, then nods back. He smooths his big hands down your arms, then reaches out and grasps your waist.

“Bedroom?” he asks.

You swallow hard, and you hope he doesn’t hear the gulp that sounds so loud in your own ears.

“Bedroom,” you agree.

-----

You know from working with Ray that the man is meticulous. He never rushes a job; he always takes his time.

He takes his time with you. His patience for your insecurities feels infinite: he strips you, he eases a thick finger into you, and he stills when you gasp, when you freeze up. When you tell him to keep going, he doesn’t—instead he kisses you, works his hot mouth against your face, your neck, your breasts. He kisses you until he feels you relax, and only then does he keep going.

He works his finger in you. He adds another, kisses you through the stretch of it as he scissors his fingers to help stretch your tight channel open. You can feel where his erection presses against your leg, and sometimes he presses himself against you hard, an involuntary reaction to whatever lust he may be feeling. But he never rushes it, and he mumbles shy words of praise in your ear, and he takes his goddamned time.

He makes you come with his fingers first, the blunt end of his finger stroking some inner part of you, his thumb circling your clit. You’ve masturbated plenty, but this feels like nothing you’ve been able to coax from yourself before: his hand works you like a finely tuned instrument, but his other hand works against your breasts, pinches lightly at your nipples, rubs the pad of his thumb over the curve and swell of you until goosebumps prickle against your skin. His mouth breathes out low-voiced orders in your ear, his breath hot against you as he commands you to come for him, to let yourself go, and you do.

It's not like anything you’ve felt before. It’s the sudden release of tension. It’s the hard snap of a rubber band pulled taut, then loosed. It’s a flood of heat and light, its epicenter right where Ray’s hand skillfully works you, and it courses outward like shockwaves that make you tremble and whimper as you give yourself over to the sensation.

“That’s it,” Ray whispers in your ear, and you feel the brush of his lips a beat later against your cheekbone. “Just like that.”

-----

Then comes the main event, and Ray slows down even more. He checks in with you, props himself on an elbow to peer down as he interrogates you.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks, and his stern face is softened by his low, quiet voice. “Do you want to stop now?”

You lay a hand on his shoulder and study his tattoos as you answer. “I’m sure,” you assure him. “I don’t want to stop.”

“I’m gonna need you to look me in the eye when you answer, sweetheart.”

You take a deep breath, then you do as he tells you. You feel shy, suddenly, exposed at the realization that Ray Merrimen—grouchy Ray, the leader of your crew—has essentially fingered you, wrung an orgasm out of you. Shy too that you want to keep going, that you want him to be your first.

“I’m sure,” you repeat, and you look him square in the eyes when you say it.

The corner of his mouth twitches into his version of a smile. “You’ll tell me if you want to stop, right?”

“I will.”

His small smile falls, and he hesitates before he adds, “I won’t hurt you. I promise.”

You can’t know that he’s thinking about the man who hurt you all those years ago. You can’t know that Ray is uncomfortable to be so much bigger than you, so much stronger. You can’t know that Ray worries that something about this moment—him looming over you, you defenseless underneath him—will spark against your trauma and cause you anxiety.

If you knew any of this, you’d be able to reassure him: that other guy is so far from your thoughts, he may as well not even exist. Nothing about Ray’s care and attention conjures up the specter of that unhappy memory. You feel safe underneath Ray. You feel safe with him.

He takes a long moment to roll the condom onto himself, and then another long moment easing himself between your legs. He props himself on one forearm and then presses forward, the tip of his cock brushing against your slick and swollen folds. He pauses and looks down at you.

“I’ll stop if you tell me to,” he says, and for the first time, he sounds uncertain, even a little shy. It strikes you all at once that maybe he’s nervous too, so you lift your hands and cup his face, draw him down to you. You gift him a sweet kiss, then you deepen it. You tilt his head and suckle against his lower lip as he had done to you earlier, and the groan that breaks free from him is sudden and loud.

“I trust you, Ray,” you tell him.

He drags the thick length of him along your slit, coats himself in your arousal before he pushes forward, breaches your entrance with the crown of his cock. He never looks away from you, and his unflinching, unblinking stare feels almost unbearably intimate. Like he can read your thoughts, like he can see into your soul.

He pushes forward, draws back. He works himself into you, but he pauses to kiss you, to whisper in your ear how well you’re doing. It doesn’t hurt, not really—it’s just the sense of pressure, of stretching, and you can see how it might hurt with an inconsiderate lover, but Ray takes his time to let you stretch to his invading length, so there’s no pain. There’s only the overwhelming sense of being taken, claimed.

You realize he’s fully seated when you feel the press of his hips flush against yours, and he lowers more of himself onto you. You feel the hot flush of skin on yours, slick with sweat, and his hot breath pants against your neck.

“How are you feeling?” he asks. His voice sounds strained, but he lays a trail of kisses along your collarbone. He doesn’t move otherwise—doesn’t pull out, doesn’t thrust. He’s letting you get used to the feeling of him being inside you. He shifts his head and gazes down at you.

“Good,” you mumble. “I feel good.”

“Need your eyes on me, sweetheart.”

You do as he says. There’s tension in his face, and you reach up to brush your fingertips over the lines in his brow, the two deep lines between his eyebrows.

“I’m good,” you repeat.

“I didn’t hurt you?” he asks.

You shake your head. “No, it’s…” You trail off, try to focus. You’d heard the term ‘cock-drunk’ before, had always scoffed at how stupid it sounds, but having him inside you, thick and hot and throbbing leaves little room for intelligent thought.

Ray dips his head and kisses you deeply, licks against the inside of your mouth. He kisses you until you’re breathless then breaks away.

“Gonna need you to use your words too,” he says, and it comes out gruff except for the smirk curving his lips.

You smile back up at him. You lay your hand on the back of his head, run your fingertips through his close-cropped hair. “It’s good. It’s better than good, Ray.”

“Ready for more?”

You nod. “Yes.”

Another long, lingering kiss and then he starts to move. He pulls out halfway, pushes back into you, and his thrusts are smooth. No jarring, no rough jolts as he reseats himself over and over. The motion renews just how big he is; the tight walls of your pussy grip him, the friction of it knocks the wind out of your lungs. You cling to his broad shoulders, and you feel the flex and tension in his muscles as he fucks you gently. But he’s big, he’s so fucking thick, and you gasp each time his hips settle against yours.

“Still okay?” he grunts out, and you whisper that you’re fine, you’re perfect, but that he’s so big, so goddamned big like he might split you in half—

“No,” he groans. “Fuck, don’t.”

You freeze underneath him, suddenly terrified you’ve said something wrong, but then he groans in your ear before he lifts his head and stares down at you, clarifies.

“You can’t…. shit, you can’t say that, sweetheart.”

“S-sorry—”

He shakes his head to interrupt, quirks his mouth into that half-smile he has. “You can’t look at me with those goddamned puppy-dog eyes and say stuff like that.”

“I’m sorry, Ray—”

“I’m already on a hair-trigger,” he grits out, and you’re too inexperienced to know the warning signs of his impending orgasm, the erratic way he’s thrusting into you, like he’s trying to hold back but his body is working independently of his will. “Fucking jacked off twice before I came here…shit, want to make it good for you…” He groans again, drops his head beside yours. “Fuck, you feel so good, I can’t—just don’t—”

But he’s passed the event horizon of his pleasure, it’s too late to stop himself, and you’re bewildered for a beat as he groans out a string of curses, as he deals you a couple of shallow, rapid thrusts…but then you feel the throb of his cock inside you, his body rigid above you before he sighs and sags against you.

“Shit,” he breathes out. “Shit, shit, shit.”

*****

Ray would be ashamed, but you don’t let the feeling take root in him. Once you realize what has happened, you soothe him. You kiss him, you stroke your hands over his arms, his shoulders. You tell him everything is fine, that you enjoyed yourself.

Only you. Sweet, sunny you. Only you could turn your disappointing first time into a loving moment for him, and after he cleans you up, he grumbles as much to you.

“But I’m not disappointed!” you protest. “Not at all!”

“You didn’t get to come.”

“I did,” you point out. “And it was amazing.”

Ray rolls his eyes. He’s trying to argue with you; he wants you to yell at him for failing you. “You know what I mean.”

“It still counts. And I’m not a virgin anymore, so…mission accomplished.”

He sighs, and he makes one last attempt at wallowing in his failure. “You want me to leave?” he asks, and he doesn’t know what scares him more: you sending him away, or you asking him to stay with you.

“No! Not at all.” You look at him with those big doe-eyes, like some anime baby animal, and it’s made worse that you have no idea the effect you have on him. “Will you stay? Please?”

And maybe getting a lousy lay under your belt gives you some courage because you hook your chin on his bare chest, cast those sad eyes on him until he’s staring back at you…then you drop a kiss on his chest.

Then you bare your teeth and nip him there, light as air, but enough for him to feel the indent of your teeth against his skin. And then your tongue on him, laying wet line along the line of his tattoos, and the whole while you bat your eyelashes at him. Ray’s cock twitches at the sensation.

You goddamn menace. Has he created a monster?

He stays. Ray gets his hands on you, manhandles you until you’re underneath him again—your squeal of surprise makes his cock twitch again—and he cages you in with his arms. There’s a split second of worry that you’ll react badly to him being a shade rougher than he has been all evening, but there’s a gleam in your eyes, and your lips are parted as you gaze up at him.

He opens his own mouth to tell you he’ll stay, that he owes you after his embarrassing premature ejaculation, that he intends to make you come on his cock more than once, but maybe he has created a monster after all.

You don’t let him get the words out—you arch up towards him, you surge up and kiss him hard. It takes far less time than usual for him to recover, and when he finally slides into you the second time, he’s able to make the first time up to you—he makes you come twice before he finally joins you on your third orgasm, and when Ray comes with you, it’s not like any orgasm he’s had before: sparks of color explode behind his eyelids, and it’s damned near percussive—enough to finally bring down the stony remains of the fortress ‘round his heart, leaving him defenseless to you.

#ray merrimen #ray merrimen x reader #ray merrimen imagine #den of thieves #kinktober 2023 #tropes and tales

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crumb · 10 months

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Brian Van Holt in Den of Thieves (2018)

#brian van holt #den of thieves #murph connors #Bo Sinclair #house of wax 2005 #moviegifs #filmedit #movieedit #filmgifs #crumbedit

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royallyprincesslilly · 10 months

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Title: '23 Bonnie & Clyde {One Shot}***

Title: 23 Bonnie & Clyde ***

Den Of Thieves Ray Merrimen x OFC Aria

Warnings: Action, Blood, Violence, Heavy Cursing, 18+ Mature Content, Gun Violence, Crime, Angst, Smut, Rough Sexual Activity, Glove Free Lovin, Plenty of Words

Words: 15,575k

Summary: Picks up with Ray being pinned down by Nick and his team after the heist. With his team dead and 2 bullets making it hard to go on, Ray believes his ticket’s been punched. Unexpectedly, an angel swoops in to save the day. However, is she an angel of mercy or heartbreak?

Note: @waterfallsandsunsets As my first accepted commissioned fic, I hope you enjoy this, and I hope it meets your expectations. I want to thank you for requesting this and even more for wanting to pay for a story from me. From the bottom of my heart, thank you!

Note II: Ray Merrimen and Pablo girlies I hope you enjoy this.

***Very Loosely Edited***

~~~~~~~~~~

-Ray-

Around him, he could hear the echoing of the heavy gunfire he was currently in the middle of. It sounded like he was in a hollowed tunnel making it easy to hear every sound. The crunching of footsteps that were attempting to stealthily creep toward him, failing miserably by his military training standards, the zing, and whizz of every missed bullet, the painful beat of his heart that was slowing with every minute.

A strong pang of pain gripped him making him curse out. He clapped his hand over his chest and grimaced. He didn't know how he would make it out of this one. All his life he'd lived by the gun and knew he'd die by it too but somehow he didn't expect it now. He thought he'd be old and grey before that bullet with his name on it punched his ticket.

He slid his hand lower just underneath his heart and felt wetness there. When he raised his fingers to his face the crimson liquid that coated his fingers confirmed it. A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he dropped his head back to look into the sky. It was yet another beautiful California day. He knew it was a hot one but couldn’t quite feel the warmth of the sun anymore. A shiver rushed through him then he heard his name.

“Merrimen, it doesn’t have to be like this. You’ve got nowhere to go. Come out with your hands up!”

He scoffed. That son of a bitch, he thought. If he really expected him to come out and surrender he hadn’t read his file properly.

“Never surrender,” he mumbled feeling the drowsiness trying to overtake him.

Shaking it off, he wiped his hands dry then gripped his weapon. Checking the chamber, he realized his clip was empty. With slow, painful movement he dug into his vest searching for his ammo but found none.

“Sh—shit!”

He was truly fucked. Either he was going to be cuffed and saved at the hospital then sent back or he would die a free man, right here, right now. It only took him a few moments to make his mind up. He meant every word he’d said a week ago. He was never going back to prison. He took several breaths trying to psych himself up for the next round of pain he would feel. No man wanted to face death but he’d long prepared for his death. He didn’t fear it.

Suddenly, her face popped into his mind making him freeze. He’d often thought of her. Every night her face somehow wandered in through the slips of his mental blocks, the ones he’d purposely put up in heavy efforts to not think about her. In those wee hours of the morning, while he laid in his bunk surrounded by other men in their 9 by 5 cells doing the same, he’d think about her. Since his release from prison, he’d thought of her more and more as people, places and things often brought back memories, good and bad.

He heard the thud of footsteps creeping up on his right and they brought him back to reality. Pretty soon he’d stop thinking about her completely. Maybe in death, he could finally get peace.

“Nut up!”

He rose to his feet then turned to where he knew that Detective Nick was waiting. He came face to face with the man aiming his weapon right at him.

“Don’t do it Merrimen!”

He waited.

“We can end this peacefully. It doesn’t have to end this way.”

His vision blurred and his heartbeat slowed. “I told you—I’m not going back.”

The man across the way clenched his jaw and he almost saw a look of disappointment across his features, but he didn’t wait. He raised his empty gun knowing he’d take the shot, truly ending this.

“Don’t!”

Suddenly, rapid gunfire rained around him sending the man jumping to seek cover while he dropped back. Chaos reigned around him in the form of three white vans rolling up creating a “U” shape shield around him. His mind recognized it as an operational defensive tactic, one he’d done in his years of service. Again, his eyes went blurry as his heart slowed. Gripping his chest, he focused on the sky trying to get himself in control so he could make sense of the situation and defend himself if needed.

“Secure the perimeter. We’re out of here in one minute!”

The voice was garbled like he was underwater, and they were above it. He grabbed his gun and pointed it forward making contact with a chest. The figure above him was masked with only their eyes revealed.

“I got you. ‘Till the end imma ride wit’ you.”

Recognition flamed in his head. He’d heard those words before. He’d said those words before. Only one other person in the world would ever utter them. He froze but before he could move again, he lost consciousness with those eyes being the last thing he saw.

~~~~~~~~

-Aria-

“What a fucking mess!”

Milla was pissed. One thing she hated was a sloppy op and what Ray had found himself in the middle of was a sloppy op.

“From the stories about this guy never thought he’d be part of something like this.”

“Shit went sideways,” Jada replied.

“Hey! Fucking focus on getting us the fuck out of LA and to the fucking jet!”

If Milla was pissed, you were downright seething. She was right, it was a sloppy op and shit had gone sideways. Fuck they went way past sideways. You made a mental note that you’d find Donnie’s ass and put two bullets through his skull for this bullshit.

“Apply more pressure!”

You, Uki, Keturah, and Lyn were each pressing on each bullet wound in an attempt to slow the bleeding. Your efforts seemed pointless as his blood poured out of him like a calcified showerhead.

It was a good thing you got there when you had. As you pushed harder on his chest, you stared into his face. You didn’t know how it was possible, but he looked the same given some wrinkles here and there. His face was the same but weathered, aged to that of a grown man. Your heart beat painfully thinking of how serious his condition currently was.

“Aria, I don’t know if he’ll make it,” Uki announced.

Your eyes snapped to her and in the same second that they made contact, she looked down.

“I’m just saying. His vitals are not good,” you mumbled not wanting to be the bearer of bad news.

“He’ll make it!”

The entire van went quiet. You hadn’t meant to scream at her, so you took a breath and looked back to Ray, and repeated your words in a calmer voice.

“He’ll make it. He’s lived through worse.”

The remainder of the drive passed in near silence. Except for updates from the other vans and checking in to confirm perfect execution of your plan and distraction no one else said anything that wasn’t mission specific. You split your focus between the next steps of the plan and keeping Ray alive. You’d estimated that the drive to the airfield would take 40 minutes and in those 40 minutes, he’d flatlined twice. You were glad that you were the type of person to bet on things going wrong. It was that foresight that found a mini hospital in every van.

With Uki’s help, you managed to bring Ray back every time he flat-lined with the aid of adrenaline and a defibrillator. Each time took longer but you refused to give up. It wasn’t his time; you’d make damn sure of it.

“Offload,” Keturah shouted as the van rolled to a stop.

Everyone sprang into action, tackling their tasks. Milla and Keturah handled stripping the van, and Lyn took care of erasing every bit of artillery so there would be not even a serial number left on anything left behind. You, Jada, and Uki lifted Ray to the waiting jet.

“Fuck he’s heavy!”

He sure was and from the looks of him, it was pure muscle. Prison had changed him. The two men in the jet hurried to help load him in.

“Let’s go. 40 seconds!”

Just then, the van went up in flames. As if that was the signal, all your femme fetales assembled and boarded the jet. Within a minute you were taking off. As the jet gained altitude the van on the ground exploded leaving flames, shards, and nothing else in your wake.

~~~~~~~

-That Night-

All was quiet, which was what you expected. This was your compound in Mexico, and it was heavily guarded. Only those who needed to know knew about it. You watched as the doctor finished his examination of your hurried work in the van and the jet. You’d had more than enough experience patching yourself and others up to know your work was sufficient, but you wanted to make sure you got all the shards out. You didn’t go through all this to have a bullet fragment sneak to his heart.

You sat on the window seat then continued tapping your combat boot-clad feet. The sound echoed in the room as dull thuds for several minutes before you sprang to your feet again to pace the room some more.

“You’ve never been anxious like this with anyone else,” Manolo said his voice filled with certainty. “Losing faith in my skill?”

“No. He’s just--not—anyone.”

He looked back at you and studied your face for a few moments then turned back to a still unconscious Ray. Manolo nodded then stood.

“Well, I think you turned a pretty horrible situation into a bad one, which is an improvement and impressive.”

“Will he make it?”

Manolo sighed and took his time before he spoke. The seconds that stretched only made you more anxious. You were milliseconds away from snapping at the man, but his voice stopped your outburst.

“It’s hard to say. His injuries are extensive. From what I can see you’ve got all the bullets and I don’t see any fragments so that’s good news, but I’ve seen men die from injuries less severe than these. It’s a miracle he is still alive.”

“What—what does that mean Manolo?!”

Your frustrations were getting the better of you now.

“I know you want a guarantee, but I can’t give one. If he—if he can make it the next 72 hours then I say his chances are very good but--.”

He took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. His grey-speckled hair was coiffed in an effortless style that framed his face and showcased the wrinkles he'd acquired from years of work and little sleep. He and your father were good friends and one on the very short list of people he trusted, which meant you trusted him too.

“The next 72 hours I expect to be touch and go.”

You sighed and then looked at Ray. It wasn’t a death sentence, but it wasn’t a glowing bill of health. There was hope at least.

“Thank you, Manolo,”

He nodded then looked back to Ray. “I will stay close tonight in case you need me again.”

You nodded and watched him pack his things up to then exit the room. For the first time since you'd laid eyes on him, you were alone together. Half of you was relieved he was unconscious so you didn't have to talk but the other half wanted more than anything for him to wake up even if it spelled trouble for you.

You stood across the room for so long that the bottoms of your feet burned. It had been a long day and even longer 48 hours in prep for his extraction. Your body was exhausted, but sleep wasn’t an option. There was no way you could sleep now. Slowly you walked to his bedside never taking your eyes off of his face. you trailed over every detail of his face. Every wrinkle, every mole, every hair, everything that you’d missed out on. Your body buzzed to get closer, palms itched to touch him. The urges were so powerful that the exhaustion in your body was so strong that you gave in.

Sitting at the edge of the bed you slowly reached your hand to his full beard however when you were centimeters from touching him your hand stopped. Fear stilled your actions dousing whatever urges you had moments before. Looking lower at his torso, you decided to clean him instead of putting yourself in a position where things would quickly escalate.

As you wiped away the dried blood and sweat from his body your mind drifted to admiring what you now confirmed without a doubt was heaviness from muscle. For the love of everything holy, he was built like all he did in prison for those 10 years was pump iron. You tried not to think of the pictures you’d gotten over the last week of him disappearing into the blonde dancer’s house time and time again. You tried not to think of the things that happened behind that door that your cameras couldn’t get into.

Though you tried to keep the thoughts at bay, when you got to his “Peckerwood” tattoo you couldn’t help but drift to how she touched him, how he found solace after 10 years without in her body.

“Fuck!”

You threw the rag down into the water ignoring how it cascaded over the rim and onto the wooden floors. You stood, wiped your hands, and took a safer seat, across the room where your view of his body wasn’t clear.

Knock-knock

“Come.”

In walked a cleaned-up Uki with a tray. She placed it on the table near your chair then stood there watching Ray just as you were.

“Manolo told us.”

You nodded.

“I can take first watch so you can get cleaned up,” she offered.

You didn’t answer. In truth, you barely heard her.

Knock-knock.

“Come.”

Jada and Lyn came in next and stood to your left adding their two pairs of eyes to Ray.

“Found you some clothes,” Jada breached.

“Team 2 and 3 made it home without any problems after initiating endgame. Right about now they should have an ID on the body from the fire and that ID will be a one hundred percent match for 1 Mr. Ray Merrimen,” Lyn informed.

You released a slow breath as the final piece of your plan seamlessly synced with the others laid before it. That was it then.

“Come in Keturah,” you called before the knock you knew was coming sounded.

They all snorted as Keturah walked in and approached the bed getting a good look at Ray.

“Still can’t believe this famous Ray turned out to be a white man oh.”

That was just what everyone needed to hear before they busted out laughing. It went on for so long that you felt the stress that your body had harvested slowly leave you. You looked around at your girls. They’d been with you through thick and thin and you trusted them with your life. They were always there for you, and you were more than grateful.

“He might be a well-seasoned white man,” Lyn added which made them holler with laughter.

You’d expected their teasing once they saw him in person. You’d prepared yourself for all of this. In fact, you were enjoying their teasing. You’d been tense for so long it felt good to breathe for a change. You rotated your head trying to ease your sore muscles.

“You should eat, then shower. I know you’ll hate it if he sees you for the first time looking like you spent 3 nights in a hot hut.”

You pressed the back of your hand to your cheek. “I don’t look that bad.”

“Ya’ look worse,” they all collectively said.

Your jaw dropped but they only laughed more. The six of you sat around the room and chatted as you ate the meal Uki brought in. With each passing minute, you felt more and more like yourself. In the back of your mind, your fears and anxieties were still raging but they were quieted enough that you could celebrate small victories. After, Uki stayed by Ray’s side as you showered and made yourself less of a mess.

With your mind calm that Uki was around, and Manolo was in the house you took the time to pamper yourself a little. The hot water did the job of a pair of well-trained hands and melted away the knots in your shoulders and back while the scents from the diffuser worked on your mood and stress. You’d jumped over one hurdle and there were two more waiting for you, the final one was waiting for you at home.

When you went back into the room Ray was still unconscious and Uki was there on her phone.

“Ah, you look and smell a lot better.”

“Girl shut up!”

“Seriously, you look better.”

You nodded then sighed. “I’m holding up.”

“I just got word from Junu, and he is livid.”

You nodded. It was expected. You knew this whole operation would upset him especially since he’d vehemently forbade it.

“I’ll take the blame and whatever punishment he dishes out. You guys will be safe.”

“While your father terrifies me, I won’t let you be punished alone.”

“You all were just following my orders. I will take the heat.”

Uki studied you then looked back to Ray. “Is he worth it?”

She didn’t just mean the punishment you’d take but the risk and danger. You looked at Ray and slowly approached him. You knew the answer without a shadow of a doubt.

“Till the end!”

Seconds later you heard the click of the door as it closed. You were again alone with him. This time you dragged the chair closer and sat back down hunkering down for a sleepless night.

~~~~~~~~

You awoke to heavy shuddering and grunting. You’d only closed your eyes for a moment, or so you thought. However now, Ray was seizing in the bed, body riddled with violent thrashing.

“Shit, Ray!”

You moved to the edge of the bed and noted the way his body was drenched with sweat. Once you touched him you pulled back, he was burning up.

“Shit!”

You leaped up, grabbed the bowl beside the bed, and sprinted to the bathroom to fill it with cold water. When you returned you wasted no time applying the cold wet cloth to his forehead. When his seizing intensified you hollered for help as you turned him onto his side. With one hand you took up another cloth, dipped it into the water, and placed it in his mouth so he wouldn’t bite down on his tongue. It was then the girls ran into the room in a panic.

“Get Manolo. He’s seizing and has a fever.”

“On it,” Jada shouted before she disappeared.

The others approached the bed and tried to help you keep him on the bed and wipe him down. In what felt like a lifetime Jada returned with Manolo who sprang into action. He took your spot and administered an injection into the IV he’d placed when he first got here.

“This will help the seizure.”

Within minutes Ray’s convulsions slowed until they stopped altogether. Manolo then injected another needle into the IV.

“This will bring down the fever. He’s more than likely fighting off an infection. I already gave him something for that.”

“What do we do?”

“Nothing. We wait. I know you hate that answer, but I don’t have a better one. He has to do the work now.”

After thirty minutes of monitoring, Manolo left again satisfied that the seizure did not return. After that, you didn’t dare fall asleep again. Every thirty minutes you wiped his body with cold cloths and bundled him tighter, so he felt some warmth. By the time the sun rose the next day, he hadn’t gotten any better and your stress returned tenfold. He couldn’t be moved in this state, so your flight home was delayed until he made it through the other end of this.

The day passed with each of you sitting with him making sure his fever was kept in check and his seizures were managed. He fared well during the day but when the sun disappeared his seizures returned and persisted for much of the night. By the 2nd night there he’d begun spitting up blood. Manolo was hours away from making the choice to take him to a hospital when the sun rose on the third day and with that new day came calm.

“I think he’s passed the worst of it,” Manolo said as he took his glasses off after his very thorough examination.

“Are you sure?”

“His vitals are much better. Heartrate is not quite normal yet but considering he was close to losing a lung he is doing well.”

“Why hasn’t he woken up yet?”

“Well, I induced a temporary coma to help him heal. I’ve started to wean him off so the medication I put him on should leave his system within the day. Perhaps tomorrow he’ll come to.”

“Will he live Manolo?”

“If this continues and he comes out of this tomorrow I feel good about his chances.”

You rubbed your face pressing just a bit so the tension would go.

“Thank goodness.”

“If all progresses, you should be good to fly the day after tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Manolo.”

“Aria, you’re like family. I’d do anything for you,” he said placing his hand on your shoulder. “You should rest.”

You nodded knowing those were doctor’s orders you wouldn’t be following. Not yet.

~~~~~~~

-The Next Day-

You were sitting by Ray's bedside once again after another sleepless night. Uki's question had been playing over and over in your mind like an annoying one-hit wonder that you couldn't forget. The longer you sat with the question the more it warped. No, your answer hadn't changed but you began to wonder if he would also say the same.

The last 10 years or so couldn't have been easy. No one thrived in prison. The environment wasn't conducive to that. The system needed a change if it was tasked with reforming wrongdoers. You knew being inside chipped away pieces of who you were before going in so you knew he was hardened. What you worried about was; how hardened was he. Was there any bit of the person you'd known? Or was this man laying at death's door a stranger with a monster lurking within

Knock-Knock

“Come.”

You tried to make yourself look like you hadn't been hyper-fixated on watching the man before you all night, tried to look detached and nonchalant.

“You look like shit.”

“For fuck's sake Uki!”

“What? If I looked as bad as you, one of you better keep it real and tell me the same,” she replied as she put down another tray.

“Guess you're expecting a thank you for telling me I look like shit?”

Uki shrugged and crossed her arms as she took her place beside you.

“Fuck thank you. Just tell me you know and I'm right. That's my love language,” she joked.

However, it wasn't a joke. She did love being right. She got off on it. She constantly wore a smug look across her beautiful flawless features. It was as if she always walked with an air about her that she was higher than those around her. To tell the truth, it was one of the reasons you gravitated to one another and formed a quick friendship when you were children.

As The Viper's only daughter and heir, you knew you were above them in rank and status, and while most would relish the fact it always suffocated you. Being at the top of the food chain put you on a whole different playing field and on that field, you always had a target on your back.

“We may have trouble.”

Your head snapped to her waiting for her to continue. Of course you did, it had been way too calm and quiet.

“Razu,” Uki muttered.

Her one-word response didn't need to be followed up with anything else. You sighed so heavily that it almost sounded like the danger declaring hiss of the creature your father got his name from. Everyone knew you didn't disturb vipers; it was a “duh” rule in the animal kingdom. Do not disturb the vipers and never disturb the den. Razu was the one who never quite understood the unspoken rule.

“Where is he?”

“Downstairs with an entitled look on his face. He demands to see you.”

That almost hiss came out and filled the room this time.

“He heard whispers of you going to America and wants to talk about why.”

“Why? Ha, do I answer to him now oh?!”

Uki sighed and shrugged. “Seeing how he is…”

“Finish that sentence and we will have a serious discussion on how much of my coming punishment you will be taking.”

Uki zipped her lips with her fingers and allowed the silence to stretch.

“If he heard whispers then he probably suspects something. Our people in Los Angeles probably tipped him off.”

Your eyes slipped back to Ray. Shit, you thought.

Another near hiss escaped you.

“Yep. Either he is here to confirm his suspicions and try to use it as his proof you are not fit to take over on your own or--.”

“Ipenija is iku,”{challenge to the death},” you finished.

“Yep.”

“Fuck! There is no way Ray can do a challenge right now.”

“No. This white meat would be dead meat,” Uki teased.

“Really Uki? Right now?”

She smiled then shrugged again. She was right though. You had to make sure Razu found nothing. You reached into the bedside drawer and took out your 3 guns then checked the chambers. Locked, loaded, and ready for action. You tucked one in the front waistband of your jeans and the other in the back. You then took up your thigh holster from where it hung on one of the posts of the bed. Rather than bringing along the third gun you left it on the bedside table and patted your arsenal of knives loaded on the contraption. It was time to remind Razu who you were and who he was not.

Before you walked out of the room you looked back at Ray once more then hardened your features and resolve. Once you walked into the large living room of the opulent hacienda-style property you found Razu sitting in the largest seat in the room which was made from a slew of precious materials. One leg was crossed over the other with his ankle resting atop his knee and in his hands he played with a machete.

Your femme fetales assembled behind you in an arrowhead formation, the five of them flanking each other’s left and right. With his tamed beard, dark and smooth skin, and dangerous eyes Razu slowly broke out into a toothy smile.

“Come on Aria. I am not the enemy no need for the famous formation.”

His voice was smooth and silky like a goading predator slinking its way around to find an opening.

“I don't know Razu. You come unannounced--.”

“And unwelcomed,” Keturah added.

Razu's eyes turned to slits as he glared at Keturah.

“I suggest you keep your femmes in line or something fatal will happen to one of the pretty bitches,” Razu said.

You pulled your guns with quickness and closed the space between you to then press one gun to his temple and the other under his chin.

“Say one more fucking word about or to my femmes and the only fatal thing happening is your death by fatality. One hair on any of their heads is worth so much more than your entire existence. So, tread very, very carefully.”

The fire is Razu's eyes blazed uncontrollably. You saw how badly he wanted to speak again and retaliate but the facts were simple. You were your father's daughter. His empire would be yours soon and no matter how badly Razu wanted it he would never get it. Not by challenge, not by infiltration, and definitely not by arranged marriage.

The fire in his eyes faded and a smile spread across his face.

“Easy Aria, I simply came to make sure you were all right. The dens in LA heard you were in town. They said a lot was shaken up and the dens had to close up ranks to stay off the radar.”

You pulled back and walked back to your girls who hadn't moved an inch. They knew you were more than capable of taking care of Razu. Once in place, you spoke.

“Did your spies actually see me in LA or are they spreading false rumors?”

“Rumors? So, you weren't in LA?”

“Are you questioning me Razu? It sounds like you are but I am sure I am wrong because in order to be remotely qualified to do that, you have to be someone higher than me. Right girls?”

They each replied with confirmation. Razu's jaw clenched tightly and you knew just how badly he wanted to lash out. Smiling you watched him struggle. This was fun. It had been a while since you had fun and you realized how much you missed this.

“Why is it always rank with you?”

“Because you forget your fucking place! You are merely a sergeant in this den. One of many. You do not question me, you do not threaten me, and you definitely do not demand of me.”

“Your safety is important,” Razu carefully added.

“My safety? Do I look unsafe?”

You turned to your friends so they could inspect.

“You look safe to me,” Lyn said.

“Sure do,” Jada added

“Picture of health,” Milla chimed in.

You turned back to Razu. “I feel safe so I say you have nothing to worry about.”

Razu stared you down clearly upset this wasn't turning out the way he wanted. When you cocked your head to the side and then nudged it toward the exit Razu grumbled but stood.

“I'll head home and tell The Viper that baby Viper is doing well in Mexico.”

Your father didn't know where you were right now and you knew that Razu still suspected you had gone to the States which meant his reporting your current whereabouts would imply you had in fact been in the States. You kept your face unreadable.

“You do that. You'd just be giving him news he already knew, but whatever.”

You shrugged then examined your nails playing up how unbothered you were. As Razu walked toward the front door he chuckled.

“I'll see you at home, little Viper.”

No one moved until you heard the door close. Before they spoke you walked out of the room across the estate.

“Have them scour that room for bugs. I don't trust Razu.”

Milla nodded and walked off to get it done.

“He has definitely overstepped his bounds,” Lyn said.

“He sure has but he just revealed he has spies within our dens. I am sure my father would love to know that.”

The only great threat to queens were peasants thinking they were smarter. Your father ran a tight ship and usually got rid of those who had the balls to have big ideas. Razu's days were numbered.

“If he is going home now then he will be sure to paint a horrible picture before you arrive. We should leave tonight,” Uki proposed.

She made sense and it was probably the best move. Only 2 things were wrong. Ray was still not out of the woods yet and if you went back in a hurry Razu would know you were afraid of something.

“Have someone watch Razu until he leaves. I want to know if he so much as pisses and it's not yellow.”

You walked away up the stairs while putting the safety back on your guns and repositioning them in the waistband of your jeans. Halfway back to the bedroom where Ray was—your bedroom you had a thought that if you took Razu out here and now When you walked inside he was still lying on the bed which was a relief and disappointment all at once. You were glad Razu hadn't tried to lure you downstairs to have his men search the house, but more worried Ray was still unconscious. You knew the longer he remained so the worse his prognosis.

You pressed your back to the door and took some deep breaths and tried to push the annoyance of Razu out of your head. Every day your list of problems increased. You felt the stinging prickle of tears behind your eyes. They were tears you’d held in for so long, tears you didn’t dare shed, tears you knew would find their way down your cheeks one way or another.

You walked across the room to the side of the bed and peered down at Ray. His bandaged wounds were speckled with bright red blood reminding you how close he’d come to dying. The even rise and fall of his chest said his breathing was evened out and he was probably not in too much danger. You sat at the edge of the bed as the urge to touch him became stronger than ever. You brought your hand closer and closer to the tattoo swooped across his chest. Your eyes locked on the ‘A’ within the ‘KingHarbor’ tattoo and within seconds you could make something else written there.

You leaned closer and closer bringing your face right over his chest and it was then you saw it. Hidden within the ‘A’ was your name. Aria.

“No fucking way,” you whispered.

You turned to the nightstand ready to switch on the lamp for more light but an empty tabletop caught your eye. The cock of the gun and the warm press to your forehead said you’d caught it too late.

“Back—the fuck—up!”

You huffed a breath out half relief half annoyance. Slowly you moved back.

“Who the fuck are you?”

You turned to face him and saw the moment recognition hit him. The stone-cold set of his face turned to wide-eyed disbelief.

“A—Aria?”

“It’s me, Ray.”

Your voice was small. You hadn’t meant for it to be at all, but it was, small and timid. Ray’s expression went from disbelief to blazing fury. You brought your eyes to the gun still pressed to your forehead.

“You’re gonna shoot me with my own gun huh.”

“I can think of a reason or two why I should,” Ray gritted out through clenched jaws.

You could hear the pain in his voice. Sighing, you shook your head. You weren’t afraid of him.

“Put the gun down, Ray.”

“Like hell I will.”

You glared at each other for long moments. You got lost in the amount of hatred you saw in his eyes. He’d never looked at you like this before, never pressed a gun to your head either. You sighed again then used the move he taught you to unarm him. However, he did not let you have your way instead, he grabbed your wrist pulled you to him, and attempted to swivel you so he could put you in a chokehold. Evading the move, you in turn swung your legs over him and sat on his thighs.

“Stop! You’re going to bust your stitches!”

Ray didn’t listen. He still fought you as if he didn’t have three bullet holes in his body.

“Ray!”

He reached for the knives in your thigh holster but you grabbed his arm instead. When he tried to use his other hand to reach for your gun you stopped him. That was when the door banged open and your Femmes rushed in guns and chosen weapons drawn to see you straddling him and holding his wrists. It looked kinky.

“Uh—didn’t waste any time huh,” Milla teased.

Ray yanked his arm away then rammed the heel of his palm into your gut. He hadn’t used all his force, but he’d used enough to send you to the foot of the bed. The action took you by surprise and stole the wind from your lungs. Your femmes cocked and raised their guns and weapons.

“Stand down,” you choked out.

Ray laid there looking at the six of you as if he didn’t trust any of you and was expecting one or all of you to make a move any second.

“Are you okay?”

You raised to your feet then rested your hands over your knee while you tried to catch your breath.

“Fine.”

“You let him catch you off guard?”

You glared at Uki.

“Didn’t expect him to—pull my own gun on me.”

“Where the fuck am I and what the fuck is going on?”

“Thu, what a way to speak to the people who you owe your life to,” Lyn spat.

“What’re you talking about?”

Your eyes fell to the bandages that were speckled red before. Now they were soaked with his blood.

“Shit, you busted the stitches,” you said making a move to him.

Ray lurched back. “Stay away from me!”

“If I do that you’ll bleed out and after everything we did to keep you alive, I’ll be pretty pissed about it.”

He surveilled you then the other five women in the room trying to gauge the level of trust he could muster in this moment.

“If we wanted to kill you, we would have stayed in our country while your so-called heist went all the way to shit,” Jada said.

“What the fuck does that mean?”

You looked at Jada slightly annoyed she brought it up already.

“Later.”

“No, now!”

“The heist went south. Enson, Bosco, they’re all dead,” you carefully broke.

“Wh—what!?”

“Donnie ran a play in your heist. He knew all the players set it up with them and used you guys as the muscle. He set you up to take the heat and fall so he could take the money. Nick knew everything from him. Your life is burned. They shot the others and Nick would have got you too if we hadn’t gotten there in time,” you explained ripping off the rest of the band-aide.

His face was blank as he processed your words then the rage returned.

“Donnie that motherfucker!”

“That he is.”

Silence filled the room and slowly you got closer and closer to him. Once close enough you sat on the edge of the bed.

“Your only option now is to disappear and by disappear I mean dead man disappear,” you finished.

“Why the fuck should I trust you?”

It was a fair question.

“She risked her fucking life to save yours. She did all this for you!”

You looked back to your girls and shook your head hoping to disengage the situation.

“It’s okay guys, wait outside.”

“So he can try something? Like hell,” Jada voiced.

“He has three bullet holes in him. I’m sure I can take him.”

They nodded knowing you could then one by one exit the room. When it was just the two of you, you opened your mouth to speak but Ray beat you to it.

“You should leave too.”

“You’re bleeding. Let me redress those then I’ll go.”

He took a few moments to contemplate your words then nodded. You kept your actions slow and careful as you got closer then took off the soaked bandages. When you wiped at the wounds he barely flinched or made a sound. You could feel his eyes boring into you keeping an eye on every move you made. You knew he didn’t trust you and you understood completely.

With needle and thread in hand, you began stitching him again. Still, Ray remained quiet the whole time he watched you. Whenever you reached for something you felt him tense underneath you even more than when you worked. Was he really that leery of you?

“Where am I?”

“Mexico.”

He scoffed. “Mexico. Is this where you’ve been living it up in a Mexican hacienda?”

“Living it--,” you began but trailed off. Before you spoke again, you scoffed. “No.”

“Right. Is this your place?”

“It—belongs to my father.”

You peeped up and met his eyes and instantly regretted it. His eyes were cold, dead, and filled with anger.

“And those women? Who are they?”

You tied off the thread then reached for the alcohol bottle on the side table.

“This is going to hurt.”

In your other hand, you took up the tequila there and held it out to him.

“No. Go ahead,” Ray said not even trying to hide the distrust in his eyes.

You shrugged and took a chug from the tequila bottle then poured the alcohol. You watched Ray stiffen as the burn rushed through him. The veins in his neck and forehead pulsated just beneath his skin, his face got redder and the muscles all across his torso flexed and bulged giving you a show for the first time how much he'd changed. Before you right now was a very grown man, a very gorgeous grown man, a man you probably didn't know anymore. His groan cane out agonized and tight. Wanting to help you leaned forward and blew onto the freshly stitched and taut skin hoping to provide some relief for him.

You kept your eyes level with his chest and focused on blowing in a way that kept the air coming from you cool. You took up the cloth and dabbed the excess antiseptic from his bruised flesh taking care to be gentle the closer you got to his wounds. You happened to glance up and found his eyes on you. The anger in his eyes was gone as was the right clench of his jaw. He looked as if he were in some sort of trance. You didn't stop blowing but moved for the wound salve waiting to be applied on the table. Slowly, you spread some across each bullet wound. With every touch, Ray sucked in a breath like a startled gasp. You didn't know if it was entirely from the pain he had to have been on or something else.

By the time you taped down a few thick squares of gauze, the door banged open.

“Ah, you're awake. Good,” Manolo exclaimed. “How is he, Aria?”

“He busted open his stitches so I did the whole song and dance and voila,” you explained.

“It looks good. How do you feel amigo?”

“Who are you?”

“The doctor who helped save your life,” Manolo dryly said.

“This is Manolo. I've known him most of my life. He's a good doctor and an even better man,” you informed as you moved from his side to rinse your hands in the bowl of water beside the bed.

“How do you feel?”

“Like I've been shot.”

“Oh, my friend you have been…3 times. One of them was centimeters from your lung, another a hair from puncturing your heart. Jeez, I don't know which angel you have looking out for you but I need her.”

Manolo approached him and began taking his vitals, you sifted to the back of the room to watch on. Ray's eyes slipped from you to Manolo then back to you as if he expected either of you to make a move against him. Was this because of you or had prison made him this way? Milla slipped inside and came to stand beside you. She now had Ray's full attention. With her voice low, she spoke.

“Razu has men watching the hacienda from all directions. If we plan on leaving without him knowing there is only one option.”

You nodded and locked eyes with Ray.

“Is he ready to move Manolo?”

“He’s a walking miracle. I think he's good to fly.”

“I'm not going anywhere with you people.”

All eyes moved to him each with different emotions radiating from them. You sighed.

“Do you think you have a choice?”

Ray narrowed his eyes at Milla's question.

“Yeah, I do. I don't know you from Adam.”

“What else do you need to know besides I--.”

The door opened and the rest of your Femmes walked in and flanked your side assuming formation without even realizing it.

“We saved your life,” Milla continued.

“Enough. This is Milla, Lyn, Jada, and Uki. These are my Femme Fetales, you explained.

“Femme Fetales? What's with the name?”

“Let's hope you never have to find out,” Keturah slid in.

“If you don't come with us, what's your plan? Go back to LA? Wander around alone? Get into some more shit with some more untrustworthy fucks?”

“Those were my brothers! And now they're fucking gone!”

“I know and I know what a deep cut that is. I know you're angry but being angry doesn't mean you have to be stupid. I don't think you get it. Right now your only option is to disappear. No, returning to LA, no lone wolf shit.”

He studied you and you could see the storm of emotions swirling inside of him. He was rightfully angry. His world shifted yet again. When he didn't speak for a few minutes you sighed again.

“Well stay one more night, give you some time to think it over. If tomorrow you decide you still don't want to go with us then fine. You be on your way and we'll be on ours no questions no debates.”

“Aria,” Uki began but you held your hand up to stop her.

“Everyone out.”

“Would you like something for the pain?”

Ray shook his head and watched everyone pour out of the room one by one. When it was just you, he raised a brow.

“You too.”

You scoffed having half expected it. As you walked to the door he watched you. Before leaving you looked back at him.

“The windows have sensory alarms so they’re sensitive to touch and movement, you’re also three stories up. Patrol outside might miss you if you jump but the perimeter patrol won’t. You’re free to leave but use the front door. It’s safest. Say goodbye first.”

“Like you did?”

For the second time, you felt as if you’d been kicked in the gut and gotten the wind knocked out of you. Low blow, you thought as you nodded and left him. Pressing your back to the door you took several calming breaths and then walked down the hall to the kitchen. You needed a drink—bad!

~~~~~~~

-The Next Day-

“Did you sleep at all?”

You scoffed as you filled your coffee cup with freshly brewed Pu-erh tea. With the sleep you hadn’t been getting and the day ahead that you foresaw, you desperately needed it.

“Sleep? Don’t know her.”

Keturah snorted and shook her head. “I don’t know how you do it.”

You took a lengthy sip from the cup and moaned. “God that’s good.”

“Morning workout?”

“Just a little meet-up with the punching bag.”

“Ah, is this aggression release or sexual tension release?”

You snorted and shook your head before you took another sip from your mug.

“He is ripped, Aria.”

“That he is.”

“He is also a distrustful ingrate,” she added.

You laughed.

“The only reason he is getting a pass is because his friends are gone and he almost died.”

“He doesn’t trust me,” you solemnly said.

You could wallow in it, matter of fact you had already. The entire night you wallowed and sulked because his distrust of you was so evident, so strong that it tore you apart. You’d wallowed until you were at dirt level. Now, in the light of morning, you couldn’t afford to anymore.

“You sure he’s still up there?”

“If he can plan to break into the reserve and steal millions of dollars I am sure he can manage to sneak out of somewhere without raising alarms,” you said.

“Legend,” Keturah muttered.

He sure was. If Donnie hadn’t been a little asshole this heist would have gone down as an incredible legend. It was practically flawless. As Keturah filled you in on any new developments you flitted around the kitchen to put together some breakfast for him. The others rolled into the kitchen and brought you up to date with the new developments but then the conversation shifted to plans and prep to leave. When you gave the go-ahead to get ready to take off in an hour, you walked out with a tray full of food on your way to Ray’s room.

As you stood outside you contemplated if you should just try the door or knock first. You reached for the handle, turned, and cocked your head to the side when you realized it was open. With caution, you walked inside and found Ray walking out of the bathroom, shirtless with a towel hung low around his waist. What was air? You no longer knew because it ceased to enter your lungs. Your jaw hung open and eyes roamed all the skin on display. You remembered Keturah’s words from minutes ago and though you’d agreed then, those words were now your gospel. He was ripped like no one’s business.

“Holy shit,” you mumbled.

“No knock?’

You met his eyes then realized what you were doing. “Ehm. Sorry. I uh—I honestly didn’t expect you to still be in here.”

“You and me both,” Ray answered.

“Well, I brought you poison-free breakfast. Freshly made and still hot.”

You placed the tray on the bed then backed up when you felt him walking toward the food. He looked over the tray then at you then back at the food. You watched him ease down onto the bed then dig into the double stacks of pancakes, eggs, sausage, and tater tots. When he dipped a matter tot into the grape jelly you smiled, comforted that at least that was the same. The man loved his sweets.

You didn't know how long you stood there watching him eat but in no time at all the plate was empty and he was gulping down the tea you'd given him.

“Tea is not my thing.”

“I know but you were just shot and still recovering caffeine is on the list of no foods for a while longer.”

Ray stared at you with squinted eyes and underneath the scrutiny of his eyes you has to look away but your eyes went back to his body. God he looked good, you thought. Again your eyes went to the “A” part of his chest tat and stared. He'd tattooed your name on him. If he'd done that he couldn’t hate you could he?

“What game are you playing? Whatever it is I don't want any parts of it this time,” Ray said, draining the hot tea.

“I'm not playing any game, never have.”

“Right.”

You'd had enough. “Look say what you gotta say, I've had enough with the passive-aggressive you. Speak your heart, because we gotta move. I don't like being away from home after a job for too long.”

“Home? Funny I thought LA was your home, that I was…”

He trailed off leaving the words unspoken but still felt.

“Guess things change. You had no problem leaving LA and staying gone for 10 years. Had no problem letting me take the fall, the time, and all that came with it! No problem using me!”

“Okay, you wanna do this now? Fine!”

You pulled up a chair and sat in front of him. “I never used you. I also never asked you to take the fall for me. That was you, Ray!”

“Bullshit! You made a fucking choice and it wasn't me.”

“You told me to run. I ran.”

“Without hesitation you sure did.”

“Oh come on Ray! You don't know how hard that was for me. You have no idea what the fuck I've been through because of that night,” you spat.

“You!? I went to fucking prison Aria. Me! You disappeared. You never visited, never wrote, never called. Nothing! It was me doing the time alone. Me dealing with all that shit for 10 years. You abandoned me!”

His words hurt like 10 thousand blades slicing at your heart. He really had no idea and was just fine looking to the worst as the explanation. The fury rolling off of him doused your anger. In a way, you guessed it was true. You had disappeared. You didn't call, write or visit. You did run when he told you to. Everything he said was true at surface level.

“I didn't want to leave you, Ray. I wanted to stay and take my chances, serve the time with you.”

“Bullshit! Don't fucking lie to me Aria. I've had 10 years to sit with your lies. 10 years to comb through every lie you said, every lie you weaved into your movements, every lie spoken with your touch. The ledger is in the red, Aria. You can never pay it!”

He was right. You couldn't make up for what happened. It was too late too much had happened. You'd been stupid to think that if you just showed up again things would work themselves out. Even if he knew the whole story nothing would change. You clenched your jaw trying to stop yourself from crying.

“I'm sorry.”

Ray scoffed harshly.

“Fuck your sorries. They mean jack shit.”

This one wasn't a blade. It was a bullet and it made dead center impact. Unable to control yourself you stood and stalked to the door keeping your face turned from him. Before you walked out you stopped and took a breath.

“We're wheels up in an hour. The choice is yours on what to do.”

You grabbed the doorknob and half walked out but stopped again. “Every word I've ever said to you, every action, every touch, every single moment was never a lie. I got you. ‘Till the end imma ride wit’ you. I meant that on everything.”

You rushed from the room knowing you were seconds from exploding with every emotion you'd caged in the last 10 years. You zipped past your girls who'd no doubt heard the shouting and hightailed it to the shooting range under the house where you fired round after round at nearly every target there hitting dead center every time. As you released bullet after bullet tear after tear fell filling the endless well you now knew you'd carry the rest of your life.

An hour later you'd pulled yourself together and were clean, dressed, and strapped up ready to face your shit like the grown-ass woman you were and the queen you were set to become.

“Everything good?

“Yep. Is everyone here?”

No one answered which told me Ray wasn't here. You nodded and took a slow breath in.

“Did you give him the heist money and some gear?”

“An hour ago,” Uki replied.

“All right then. Let's go home.”

You pressed the elevator button and the doors opened.

“Where is home?”

Ray's deep baritone washed over you stunning you still.

“Why?”

“I would like to know where I'm going before I get there,” he answered.

Your head snapped back to him and your eyes locked. Hope swirled within you and it was stronger than any other emotion. It truly was dangerous.

“Nigeria.”

His brow crooked. “Hm, I've always liked the heat.”

“Let's see if you can take it, white boy,” Jada teased.

They all giggled and you caught a ghost of a smile on Ray's lips and your stomach flipped. Shit, you thought. You didn't need this right now.

“You have your money. Why not just take it and go?”

“I still might but right now I have nowhere I need to be.”

You nodded, hearing the words between his words.

“Let's move.”

You got in the elevator and everyone else piled in after you. Once under the compound you took to the escape tunnel and followed the 2 miles until you climbed back to ground level where the truck waited. After loading the bags, you sped away knowing Razu would have never seen this move coming.

It didn't take long to get to the jet and when you were securely in the air and exiting Mexican airspace you began to breathe more freely. For the first hour or so Ray kept to himself. He didn't speak or interact he just watched everything. It was a strength of his and soothing he'd honed in the services. By the time hour 4 came around Milla, Lyn, and Keturah had pulled him into a card game where they grossly took advantage until he got the hang of it. Then the tides turned in his favor.

Slowly he looked like he was beginning to fit in, and it made you relax a little more. Four and a half hours after takeoff, you were landing toward the coast where you would take a boat to the compound. Being the serviceman he was, Ray constantly checked the perimeter with one hand on his gun and the other hooked in the bulletproof vest he wore. He looked like a fish out of water amongst the backdrop of dessert colored dirt, rocky mountains, and free-roaming elephants, Zebras, and Antelope but at the same time, he looked like he belonged. Perhaps that was wishful thinking.

“Home, oh!”

You looked out to the palatial compound that rivaled the vastness of The Alamo and smiled. While you felt like a caged bird at times you loved being home.

“That is home?”

“Home sweet home,” Lyn added.

“Jesus, who are you people?”

They giggled while you focused on your return. You could already see movement and knew everyone around was gathering. Once the boat docked you unloaded and made your way to the walls. The men on patrol there were starting at Ray like he had three heads.

“Ehm!”

The guards shook out of their stupor and then opened the gate allowing you to enter. As you walked through, they saluted you with the respect you deserved. However, before you made it to the house you heard the murmurs of the arrival of the man you knew you'd have to answer to sooner or later. Everyone around except for you and Ray dropped to one knee while bending one arm at the elbow and clenching a tight fist. Your father's salute. You looked to Ray he was clearly confused but not intimidated.

The 6-and-a-half-foot man approached you with a stern look on his face and dressed like the world's best businessman. When he stood in front of you, Ray still didn't drop to his knee. You didn't know if it was ignorance of who was before him or indifference. If it was indifference, you were highly turned on. As your father eyed you trying to intimidate you into submitting you stood there head high, eyes locked on his not wavering. Your father's eyes shifted to Ray and you took a sidestep to stand in front of him.

“I'm home baba.”

Your father’s eyebrow crooked. “Baba? You still recognize me as your baba? You still recognize me as the leader of this organization?!”

Everyone continued to murmur as they felt the air shift from his anger.

“Of course.”

He scoffed. “I explicitly told you to stay out of the States. I told you that you can't break him out. I told you so many things and they were all ignored by you. All disobeyed!”

“Baba, I couldn't just sit here anymore. I had to.”

He stared at you, eyes still blazing with anger but slowly his features cooled. “You accomplished it too, I am impressed.”

You smiled.

“But what if I would have lost you? What then? Did you plan that far in your elaborate schemes?”

“You raised me and I had my Femme Fetales, how could you lose me?”

He sighed, shook his head then cupped your cheek. “You are of my blood, I don't know why I was surprised. I'm surprised it took you this long.”

You smirked.

“Fine.”

Your Father's eyes shifted back to Ray who was still standing.

“Still standing I see.”

“I bow to no one,” Ray defiantly exclaimed in that nonchalant voice of his.

Your father cocked his brow then laughed heartily. “Is that so?”

“Viper, it's been settled,” one of the men informed bowing his has to your father.

Ray's eyes went wide. “Viper? As in The Viper? The most feared and respected man in the game? The man who is at the top of everyone's wanted list and who has a hand and foot in every country and every market? That viper?”

Your father looked impressed. “And if I was that Viper?”

Ray looked at you then back to your father. “Then you'd have a lot more of my respect.”

He laughed again. “Interesting. Still standing?”

“I told you; I bow to no one.”

Your father smirked. “If you stay here when she takes over I can't wait to see you eat those words.”

He and Ray squared off both stating the other down as if sizing each other up. You knew your father was trying to gauge what kind of a man he was and get a feel of what value he posed. Usually, he was a great judge of character, but you wondered if he’d be biased because of the past, because of what Ray was to you.

“Everyone back to work.”

All the soldiers began walking away clearing the center but when you began to move he spoke again. “Everyone except Ray. We have plenty to talk about.”

You once again leaped in front of Ray shielding him. “No way.”

His eyes dipped down to yours and he mischievously smirked. “Why?”

“Because I know you. To punish me and prove a point you would kill him.”

Your father put his hand over his chest. “You wound me, princess. I promise I won’t kill him much less lay a hand on him. However, if he can’t so little as take a beating then maybe he’s not an asset here.”

“Baba he’s already taken 3 bullets, 2 came close to his heart and lung.”

“And I’ve taken a bullet right in the head and I lived to talk about it and run this empire. Near a lung and heart is child’s play.”

You opened your mouth to counter, but your father’s voice boomed over yours. “Either I talk to him alone now or I will see if he can take a bullet to the head and live. What’s 4 bullets?”

You knew better than to push him. He was your father, and he was soft on you, but he was still in charge. You hated it when he threw his weight around like this. Gritting your teeth, you sidestepped.

“Go and make sure everything is okay with the mission for tomorrow night.”

With one more glance at Ray, then your father you walked off. If Ray was going to survive here he had to learn how to fend for himself. What better opponent to start with than the king himself?

-Ray-

The fucking viper. He’d heard countless stories of this man’s empire. In LA there were plenty of his viper dens, plenty of his people dealing in so much shit. His gambling den was always packed and usually, the place everyone went for information, and that was just one of his businesses. He’d had no idea his reach came this far. Africa. Holy shit, he thought. They’d walked to a more secluded part of the compound, a part that looked like a luxury desert oasis.

He watched Viper sit, pull out something wrapped in brown paper then light it. With one puff came another and another until he was surrounded by white fragrant smoke. He took a deep breath in. It had been a long time since he’d had one of these. With parole checks and shit like that, he had to stay clean of everything.

“Here. Live a little.”

He held a similar one to him. He took it and mirrored his actions until he’d taken one long puff of his own. He groaned long and loud which brought a laugh from the giant’s mouth across from him.

“10 long years without one huh.”

He took in this man in a designer suit, diamonds, and gold. He had no idea you knew The Viper. It dawned on him then that he probably didn’t know anything about you anymore.

“I will give you one piece of advice and a warning all wrapped in one. Never have daughters because they will cripple you worse than any bullet ever could.”

Once he’d said the words it didn’t take him long to piece it together. Daughter.

“Aria is your daughter.”

He nodded. “She didn’t tell you.”

He sighed and took another lengthy puff. “One of many things I’m sure. I’m not surprised anymore.”

“Sounds a lot like animosity.”

He sighed but remained silent. He was bitter—very bitter.

“I’m sorry about your brothers. I know a loss like that—is a serious blow especially not being able to say goodbye.”

He balled his free hand. he’d hit the nail right on the head.

“If I know Aria and I do, she’s already found your snitch and he’ll be gift-wrapped to you by tonight.”

He snapped his eyes to the viper. “What’re you talking about?”

He sighed and blew out a puff of smoke. “I suppose it’s time to come clean.”

A few moments passed in silence, and he waited as patiently as he could.

“12 years ago I knew the moment you met, and I knew from that moment every move either of you made. I knew every secret rendezvous, every phone call, text message, every mini heist, every small job, every crazy scheme, and plan. Aria had no clue I knew and though I was leery about you, hell any man who wanted my daughter’s attention. She’s my only child and the future of this empire. But I like to give her small freedoms, so I let her live, I let her think she was living this secret life and I kept watch as the two of you fell in love—to my complete dislike. Of all people, a white boy oh.”

He kissed his teeth, then sighed. “I thought—hoped it would be young love, a fling, but I knew the night she shielded you from that vato, we’d move way past that.”

His interest was piqued but his gut rolled as if he knew he wouldn’t like what came next.

“The night of that lift off the PerriP crew I had my most trusted guys watching her. I knew the deeper in she got with you the more risk she would take. So when the shit hit the fan and you guys figured out there was a snitch you got cornered. They reported it to me, and I relayed my orders. Get her out at all costs.”

He paused again to take another drag from the substance lit between his fingers.

“When you told her to run, and you decided to burn yourself to save her I knew she would have stayed right there with you no matter what. You got separated it wasn’t because she actually ran. my men came in and sedated her to get her out.”

Everything felt like it collapsed then, his vision went tunnel, heart pounded painfully and loudly.

“What!?”

“My men followed my orders and when she came to, she killed several good men in an effort to get back to you. Of course, I couldn’t allow that. Within 2 hours, she was on the jet back here.”

As his heart thudded more painfully he pressed his hand over it. All this time, he thought.

“For the last 10 years, she’s been forbidden from making contact, forbidden from stepping foot in the States, forbidden from doing anything that he didn’t approve of. She hated my order and rebelled like hell. For years she hated me. I’m sure she still hates me for it, but I knew without a doubt that she would have served that stint with you. As her father, I couldn’t allow that.”

In the span of five minutes, his entire world had shifted. Everything he believed was flipped.

“You may resent me for it but, even knights are meant to be sacrificed for the queen.”

He met your father’s eyes and saw aloofness. He didn’t look remorseful, but he could see something that he thought was close. He wasn’t sorry nor did he regret his decisions, but he felt badly.

“Since the day she landed here, she’s been keeping tabs on you. She knew about your life on the inside and kept her ears to the ground so she knew when to step in if she had to. She was the reason you only served 10 instead of the 20 they wanted to give you. She wanted to break you out, but I wouldn’t allow it because that move would jeopardize my empire because of all the moving parts and people in law enforcement and government it would have taken. I don’t like to cash in debts.”

As your father spoke he sat there thinking about the last 10 to 12 years of his life. The happy years with you then the darkness of the last 10.

“She knew about your heist plan, knew about Donnie but she let it play out because she had a bigger plan. She managed to be one step ahead of everything and executed her plans seamlessly. She went against me and my orders and put the entire den in jeopardy just to step in and save you. She did all this for one man.”

He sounded as if he were in disbelief.

“Were you worth it?”

He scoffed. Was he?

“I see a lot of myself in you. Your ferocity, brains, drive, creativity, and foresight, I see so much potential for you here. I’m impressed with what you can offer the den. I always have been. Now that she’s gone through all this effort it is clear to me that how she felt then never died, it lives still. The proof has always been clear to me though I was reluctant to accept it. She is my princess, and no one is worthy of her. However, it’s become time for me to step aside and let her choose who stands beside her. I’ll offer you a spot in my empire, a place in the Den of Vipers, but the role is up Aria.”

He couldn’t believe his ears. All these years, all this time. Everything he’d thought was real wasn’t, everything was wrong. Your father stood then patted him on his shoulders.

“Take some time to think about it. Let me know when you’ve decided.”

With that, he walked off leaving him sitting there in this oasis with a head full of thoughts and a heart aching in more ways than one.

-Aria-

It had been nearly 2 hours now. What the fuck could they be talking about for so long? Being home you were supposed to be at ease but during your soak in the tub, you hadn't felt any ease. You were as tense and worried as ever. Not even half a bottle of rum had helped. You paced your room in your mid-thigh length robe as you thought about your options. Your father was pissed with you but you knew he wouldn't be too harsh. If you interrupted whatever they were doing he wouldn't punish you for it.

With your mind made up you flung your door open the gasped seeing Ray standing on the other side. Immediately he took your breath away. Mere hours ago, his eyes still held anger and mistrust in them. Now they were softer. What in the world had happened?

“Uh…what’re you doing here?”

“We need to talk.”

You crooked your brow. Now he wanted to talk? Without waiting for your reply, Ray walked into your bedroom leaving you stunned. He couldn’t wait to get away from you before, now he was barging into the viper's den. After closing the door, you cautiously walked in. Ray was at the window scanning the perimeter. When he turned his eyes roamed over you taking in your attire. When he realized how little you had on, he turned his head then breathed out heavily.

“How did you find me?”

“I asked.”

“And everyone was so willing to give you, an outsider, the location of--.”

“The next Viper in line to rule?”

You took him in. Your father had told him.

“Your father must have given me the green light around here,” he said.

“What? After 1 conversation? What in the hell did you talk about? Did he pull a gun on you?”

“Nope. He gave me some weed.”

You gaped then shook your head because it sounded like something your father would do. “So, he gave you weed then approved your access, and bam here you are.”

“10 years of secrets. Don’t you think it’s time to come clean?”

You studied him for a few moments then sat at the foot of your bed.

“What’re you talking about?”

“I did 10 years for you. The least you could do is be honest.”

“You keep saying that like I made you take the fall, like--.”

“Like you didn’t leave me?”

“Ray you told me to run. I did!”

“Yeah, you did. You ran never looked back then disappeared.”

You pinched your nose bridge then pressed across your forehead. He had no idea.

“If I looked back I knew I wouldn’t be able to leave. I knew that we’d both get caught and then we’d both be fucked. I wanted to go back so bad Ray. I knew I could convince my father to plan a jailbreak for you before any sentencing even happened but then some of my father’s men grabbed me and the next thing I knew I was on a plane halfway across the ocean. I tried to get back. I swear I did but--.”

“Even knights are meant to be sacrificed for the queen,” Ray said in such a way that an eerie feeling washed over you.

He’d talked to your father. Those were his exact words to you when you tried to plead your case to go back for Ray or even plan a jailbreak. He’d told him everything.

“He told you.”

“Yeah, he told me.”

“And you’re still angry with me? Why?”

“There is nothing and no one that could keep me away from you. All it took was daddy’s words for you to give up on me.”

You sprang to your feet then, anger bubbling in your gut. “You don’t know my father. He would have killed you just so you weren’t a distraction for me anymore. I stayed away to keep you alive. I didn’t give up on shit. All these years I’ve been watching. All these years I’ve been trying to keep you safe. Do you have any fucking idea how exhausted I am?!”

“I don’t need your fucking protection Aria! I didn’t then and I don’t now! I—I fucking needed you!”

Your eyes were locked on his, jaw tight as a slew of emotions swirled within you. Ray was the kind of man who was quiet but expressive. When you were together those 2 years he wasn’t overtly expressive about his feelings. What he didn’t say in words, he said in plenty of other ways. However, when he used words he always took your breath away. Now, today was no different.

Slowly you watched his eyes fill with something else other than anger. Something—heart-wrenching.

“I needed you on visiting days. I needed you at nights. I needed you in the depressing darkness of the hole. I needed you in every fight, every attempt someone made to prove I was weak. I needed to know I still had you.”

Ray turned from you and looked out of the window again. Your tears fell from your eyes, and it hit you then. Yes, he was angry with you, but he was angrier at the situation you found yourselves in. Where you’d had 10 years to accept the shit, he’d just had it all flung at him. Ray’s shoulders were slouched, hanging low as if he now had all the world’s weight on them.

You wanted to touch him, but you were scared he’d shrug you off. So, you kept your distance but after a few minutes the urge became too strong, and you slowly crossed the room until you stood right behind him. Raising your hand, it took forever to close the space to his shoulder. When you laid your hand on his skin, he didn’t move or lash out.

“I felt like such a fucking fool to have burned myself for you. I took you disappearing as you proving how untrue you were that you didn’t mean anything you said. I hated you so much. I wished such horrible things on you but with every horrible wish, I felt worse and worse. I hated myself and--.”

You dipped under one of his arms that were pressed on the windowpane and came face to face with him. Holding his face in your hands you found the last of your courage.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

Ray raised his eyes and peered into your tear-filled ones. You repeated the words you’d wanted to say for years. You said them again and again and with each apology Ray melted. The tension in his shoulders crumbled.

“I’m sorry,” Ray croaked out.

It was your turn to melt. Within seconds of those words escaping his lips, you both crashed into one another, lips colliding for the first time in a decade. You’d often wondered if this was possible after everything, and if it were, how would it happen. Would it be slow and tender, teasing, and hesitant? It was neither. Ray kissed you with a hardness that wasn’t there 10 years ago. He kissed you as if he loved you and hated you all at once like he wanted to suck the very air from your lungs to have a piece of you with him always or to kill you so no one could ever have you. His kiss was delightful and torture, familiar but foreign.

Your lips and tongues wrestled never remaining still for long. He swirled his around yours, and you sucked his until he groaned. When Ray pressed your back against the window the hardness of his body made you whimper. This was the body of a fully grown man, not some young adult. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer. In response, Ray dipped down and lifted you into the air so you could wrap your legs around his waist.

All of this was muscle memory. Your body never forgot him. How could it? He’d been your first in so many things. You bit down on his bottom lip dragging a fierce groan from him. Ray pressed into you giving you the first feel of his hardness.

“Fuck!”

Like a command received, Ray quickly yanked open your robe then cupped your breasts. His hands were rough, calloused, and larger than you remember. Using his thumbs he flicked your hardened nipples sending jolts of pleasure through you that settled in your core and turned to molten lava.

“Now! I can’t wait anymore,” you rushed out in between kisses.

Ray must have felt the same urgency because he released your breasts then lowered his hands to fumble with his pants. As he freed himself then kicked the pants off they went across the room and banged into one of the lamps bringing it clattering to the floor. With the room in half darkness, Ray locked eyes with you and a second later he split you in half sending his large, thick cock to the hilt.

“Aah! Fuck!”

Ray shuddered as he pressed his forehead to your collar. When he pulled back he rammed himself inside of you again making you throw your head back into the window.

“Ugh!”

His thrusts started slow and punishing. Each quick flick of his hips sent a powerful message that both your brain and body received. You held on to him afraid he’d disappear and you’d realize this was yet another dream. His hands tightened around your hips then he moved you against him, so he was directing his hardness into you the way he wanted, the speed he wanted. Every time he sank into you, your body shook, and goosebumps peppered your skin.

Soon, you both were panting, grunting, and groaning as you fucked right in front of the window not caring who could see. He turned, leaning his back on the wall as he locked eyes with where your bodies were joined.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck! Uuuugh!”

“Fuck me, Ray. Fuck me!”

That was just what he did. His thrusts were unrelenting, his power all-encompassing and with every minute your pleasure became so intense you knew you would break in half once you came. Ray tightened his grip then moved you more forcefully against him losing all control. The veins in his neck protruded as he lost himself to the pleasure you were sure he could only find with you.

You felt him walking across the room then your positioning changed as he sat you on top of him.

“Take all this dick, Aria!”

He slapped your ass, and it was all the encouragement you needed. You planted your hands on his shoulder then slowly lifted your body up only to slide back down. He felt so good. Ray dropped his head back and closed his eyes. Every time he almost slipped from your heat he bit down on his bottom lip. Then when you sank down on him his nose scrunched. Soon you were bouncing on him using the power and skill of your hips and ass.

Ray gripped your derriere, spread your cheeks then thrust up.

“Mmm!”

That one thrust unlocked something inside of you, something rabid and primal. Raising onto your feet you bounced on him increasing your speed until sweat rolled down your bodies. You pressed your lips to his and kissed him with as much heat as you felt within. It was heat he returned.

“Mm, I’ve missed your tight little pussy.”

Locking eyes with him you bit his bottom lip. “Show me.”

Ray stood, pulled you off him then pushed you over the chair so your ass was propped up like a gift for him. Without warning he slammed into you making you fling your head back. Ray’s hand wrapped around your throat as he held you in the position you were in. With your back arched creating a ‘u’ shape along your spine he lowered his lips to your upside-down ones and kissed you senseless. When he pulled his lips from yours he fucked into you with reckless abandon. Every stroke make you shout his name and every time you did he only fucked you harder and harder.

In no time at all you were seeing stars and your body was begging for mercy. You didn’t dare listen though. When you felt his teeth sinking into your shoulder you screamed from the pain but your body convulsed from the pleasure.

“Still like a little pain with your pleasure huh.”

Ray pulled from your body. You turned to him on shaky legs and peered at him through lust-clouded eyes. He hoisted you into the air again then slid you down on his length. Again you kissed him as he began his torturous pleasure all over again. When you tasted copper, you pulled back to realize you’d bitten his lip and drawn blood. Ray smirked then slammed you into a wall and jackhammered into you.

“Yes!”

“Is this still my pussy, Aria?”

“Yes.”

“Do I still own it?”

“Yes!”

“Ah, ah, ah!”

With each thrust, you could feel his body shaking. He was close and you wanted everything from him. You were tired of the last 10 years of longing. You wanted everything now.

“I love you, Ray.”

His brow quirked then his face scrunched and that was when you felt him release deep inside of you. It was a release that triggered yet another orgasm from you and brought darkness with it as your body exploded.

When you opened your eyes you were in your bed naked and sore.

“What the--.”

“Welcome back.”

Beside the bed, Ray sat just as naked as you. It all came back then, and you couldn’t hide the smile that spread across your face.

“Was I too rough?”

You glanced at his chest and saw the blood soaking the bandages. You jerked up. “What happened?”

“I’m fine. Some of the stitches popped.”

You slowly looked around the room and saw everything was in disarray. Lamps were broken on the floor, sheets and clothes littered everywhere, broken glass and furniture were here and there, and blood was smeared on some of the walls and your body.

You snorted, “Just like old times I see.”

Ray smirked.

“I’m sorry,” Ray began.

“Don’t. Let’s stop with the apologies here and now. No more. We missed so much time, so much was missed out on. I don’t want to miss it anymore. I don’t want to keep going like this Ray. I can’t. I miss you so fucking much I can’t breathe. I’ve loved you for 12 years and I don’t see it ever changing.”

Ray walked over to you, his hard cock bobbing in the air. Once beside the bed, he took your hands and raised you to your knees so you were in front of him. When his hand cupped your cheek you melted.

“This is the second time I’ve lost everything. Now I have nothing else, and I don’t want to lose you again. I can’t.”

His hand slid to the back of your neck to cup your skull. “I have loved you since I was 20 years old. A decade later not a damn thing has changed. I will love you for the rest of my life.”

Your tear slipped from your eye and Ray’s thumb swiped it away.

“Do you mean that? Do you forgive me?”

“I mean it.”

Rau brought your face closer and gazed deeper into your eyes.

“‘Till the end Imma ride wit’ you. There’s nothing to forgive.”

You scrunched your face and tried to contain yourself. “Ray,” you whispered, voice full of emotion.

“Tell me again,” he pleased.

You pressed your forehead to his. “I love you Ray Merrimen. “I got you. ‘Till the end Imma ride wit’ you.”

He smiled and then pulled you into a searing kiss, a kiss that revived your very heart and set your soul on fire. This man was all you wanted and all you would ever need.

“Your father offered me a spot here. He said the role is up to you though.

You held your breath waiting for him to finish.

“I want it. So tell me what role you want me to have?”

“You cupped his bearded jaw.

“I want you next to me.”

He smiled then slowly nodded.

“As your knight?”

You pulled him closer.

“As the king in my den because every queen needs a king.”

Ray laid you down then climbed on top of you ready to make you blackout again but a knock on your door stopped him.

“What?”

“It’s here,” Uki’s voice sounded.

You smiled. “I got you a present.”

“What present?”

“Come.”

The two of you dressed, you in your robe and Ray only in his pants. He didn’t even bother cleaning up the blood off his skin. you like it, he looked fierce. Once you made it outside to the center of the compound, the men had gathered. You glanced at Uki who smirked and nodded at you clearly knowing what had gone down and that Ray would now be a permanent face around here.

“What’s going on?”

“Consider this your welcome present. A token of my undying love.”

The men parted to reveal someone kneeling in the center with a burlap bag over their head. Ray looked at you with confusion.

“Open your present, my king.”

Ray approached the body then yanked off the burlap and came face to face with Donnie. When Donnie looked up at him the terror in his eyes faded.

“Ray—Ray help me. What the fuck is going on?”

Ray looked back at you, and you smiled wider nodding at him. You approached and stood beside him.

“Who’s this?”

“The Viper.”

Donnie’s eyes widened. You loved when your family’s reputation preceded you.

“Fuck, wha—wha—.”

“Shh. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“You’re not?”

“No. I have no quarrel with you. It’s him you have to worry about.”

Donnie looked at Ray again. You leaned forward to Donnie’s ear.

“He knows what you did. He knows everything you did,” you whispered.

Donnie now looked horrified. You smiled when you stood upright again then laughed.

“Ray look man don’t listen to her. She’s lying. I didn’t have anything to do with any of that. Shit just went south. I don’t know how Nick knew about the heist. I don’t know how the money went missing.”

“How did you know the money went missing if everyone who knew that is dead?”

Donnie stuttered at Ray’s question. He’d given himself away.

“Fuck. I’m sorry man. I just--.”

“Shhh,” you repeated. “What was it that you like to say—oh right. You’re in complete control of your environment?”

He looked like he was ready to piss himself. You smirked deviously. “Guess what. You’re in my environment. You always have been in my environment. My den sees and hears everything.”

Ray stared at Donnie with so much anger that you wondered how he’d handle this. Donnie was the reason his brothers were dead. He looked at you.

“Whatever you want,” you said.

Ray nodded then kissed you sloppily making you moan. He then pressed his forehead to yours.

“Gun.”

You repeated the order and took the gun that was given to you to hand to Ray. Donnie then began pleading using every slick word he could find to plead with Ray not to do it.

“I’ll get you the money back.”

“How can you give something you don’t have? I took the money back already.”

Donnie dropped to the ground realizing he had nothing left.

“You got my brothers killed. Do you know what happens to those dropped in a viper’s den?”

“Ray man please.”

“They get bit!”

You watched as Ray released bullet after bullet into Donnie. He didn’t stop until the bullets stopped and the gun clicked over and over and over, and Donnie lay dead on the ground. He dropped his head back and stared into the night sky.

“It’s done. Rest up brothers,” Ray said into the night.

You looked up and saw Razu standing across the way. his eyes wide and jaw clenched tight. You smiled then wrapped yourself around Ray who wrapped his arm possessively around you.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“I mean it Aria. You’ve done so much. Thank you.”

You touched his cheek and then kissed him. “I told you. I got you. ‘Till the end Imma ride wit’ you.”

Ray pressed his lips to your forehead then the two of you turned to go back inside.

“Aria! I challenge you and that white abomination!”

You smirked and took the gun Uki handed to you, ever prepared for the shit that could rise. You turned, took aim, and shot quicker than he could realize what had happened. Your shot rang true sending the bullet dead center in Razu’s head.

“Spies and traitors don’t have the right to challenge. Uki will show you all the man Razu was.

She pressed a button on her wrist and the screens around played Razu’s dirty dealings within the den. Everyone whispered words of admonishment as they spat at and on Razu’s dead body.

“Let it be known that as of today I am his, and he is mine. If anyone objects speak now.”

Not a soul spoke and from the corner of your eye, you saw your father standing high above it all watching the events unfold. You held his gaze for a few moments and caught the smile on his lips. He nodded then pressed a kiss to his fingertips and sent it your way. His approval. It was 12 years later but better late than never.

Once you’d returned to your bedroom and ravaged each other thoroughly, you both laid there staring at each other both afraid to sleep for fear it was all a dream. Ray reached out and caressed your cheek.

“I promise to be loyal to you, to love you, and always come back for you.”

You smiled. “I promise to be loyal to you, love you and always come back for you.”

He rolled onto you and captured your lips.

“This is forever, Aria.”

“Forever.”

~End~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#ray merrimen fanfic #ray merrimen #den of thieves fanfic #pablo schreiber fanfiction #fanfiction comission #den of thieves #ray merrimen fanfiction #pablo schreiber

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renegadesstuff · 6 days

Text

Jealous Castle 🤭🥹

S2E21, “Den of Thieves” aired 14 years ago (April 19, 2010) ❤️‍🩹

#castle #kate beckett #caskett #richard castle #beckett and castle #beckett x castle #castle and beckett #castle x beckett #castle rewatch #castle series #castle edit #castle season 2 #2x21 #den of thieves #14 years of den of thieves #castle anniversary #caskettedit

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mariamariquinha · 29 days

Text

Moodboard 3 - Bossa Nova

You felt defeated. Your physicality, your face, everything exuded the reflections of a woman well out of orbit.

“I'm going to tell you something very honest,” He took a few steps closer, searching the eyes you’d been avoiding until you could be looking at each other again. “I want you away from this case. Not because I think you're not good, but at this point it's clear that your judgment can prevail over the evidence.”

It wasn't like he was wrong, so you stayed quiet.

“Nick is going to end up being pretty scathing about what happened here today, so believe me when I say that this time I'm really going to let you off the hook. You'll owe me one.”

Again, you remained silent, which was a bit surprising since you almost always had something to say. He was there, stern, giving you a well-deserved scolding, pointing a finger in your face, and it was as embarrassing as it was incredibly satisfying. It wasn't like what happened in your kitchen or anything like that, because he was truly mad at you, not the circumstances. Without Nick, Isla, Emma; it was you and him. You were the target.

His eyes were focused on yours, because he wanted to say it in all words. They seemed even darker, more powerful compared to yours, and that made you move in shyness. It was a side of Benny you didn't know yet.

“And please wake up. That girl isn’t half the woman you are,” This surprised you a little, since he hadn't stopped looking visibly irritated while passing his eyes over your body. “Nor half-experienced.”

A/C: "Ah, so you're writing Bossa Nova?" Yes. We're making good progress here, so I hope we can experience more of these two.

Any guesses about what chapter 10 will be like?

Oh, and remember: in this story, everyone makes mistakes. 😉

No pressure tags:

@cheesybadgers @thoroughlymodernminutia @servenas-inner-fangirl @thesandbeneathmytoes @seaweeden @ecleticfashionbookszipper

#moodboard #bossa nova #benny magalon x reader #benny borracho magalon x reader #benny magalon #maurice compte #den of thieves

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wisdomfish · 10 days

Quote

I hate the churches of the world that have become havens for heretics. I resent a TV church that, in many cases, has become a den of thieves.

John MacArthur, Hard to Believe, p. 21

#hate #christianity #heretic #haven #den of thieves

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kilojulietsierra · 11 months

Text

Working Late (Borracho x Fem!Reader)

Been a minute since I posted some Borracho and I’ve had this one ready and waiting for a minute. It’s very self indulgent but I hope y’all enjoy as much as I did.

Warnings: 18+, smut, dirty talk, fantasizing, making out, brief drunkenness but happy drunk, hinted at age gap, sex in the workplace, Nick is an ass but Benny is protective and territorial

~~~

The phone on his desk beeped three times in quick succession. Borracho saw it was an internal line and reached for it, "Magalon."

"Uh huh." He listened a moment, "Yeah, send her up." He hung up the phone and smiled a little to himself in the empty office. He tried to keep working as he waited, but he accomplished nothing in the time it took for the door to the Major Crimes office to open with a small knock.

Borracho turned in his chair, "Hey beautiful." He smiled at you across the bullpen.

"Hey." You gave him a little wave as you walked towards him, "Hope it's okay i'm here."

He slouched back in his desk chair and smirked, "Why wouldn't it be?" His eyes tracked your movements as you approached, raking over you head to toe taking in your tight leggings and hoodie. Something inside him ticked to life seeing you in the LASD hoodie he never wore.

"I don't know, separation of church and state and all that..." You walked around the office, taking a look at the empty desks and the odds and ends around the room.

"Babe," He huffed out a laugh as a breath of air, "The only time I wouldn't want you to stop by, is if the guys are here and I'm not."

You smiled a little coming to stand at the desk directly in front of his, sitting in the chair and spinning around, "I figured it would be safe tonight, them out partying and all and you here by yourself."

"You checking up on me?" Borracho needled at you, still slouched back in his chair, hands clasped in front of him, as he watched you start to nose through Tony's desk.

"I trust you." You opened and closed a few drawers and eventually looked up to find Benny's eyes boring into yours. "What?"

"Wrong desk sweetheart." The corner of his lips twitched up but other than that he does not move.

You spin around in the chair, looking over the other desks, "Oh shit, my bad. Is Nicks that one?" You ask as you jump out of the chair and step towards one of the others.

"Quit playing and get your ass over here." He's almost laughing at you now, but definitely smiling as you toss him a wink and come to sit on the edge of his desk. He still doesn't move, just looks.

Benny is always watching and not always sharing his thoughts, at first it had worried you, but now? Now you could almost read his looks as if he was speaking plain English. Still in the same position he goes back to your previous conversation, "I sure as hell don't want you showing up dressed like that when the guys are here." Finally he reached out and laid a lazy hand on the inside of your knee, thumb pressing into the muscle of your thigh.

You chuckled, "Why not?" You slide his laptop out of the way and move to sit squarely in the middle of his desk.

"You know why." Borracho was territorial as fuck and had been since the first time he saw you. Now that you were actually together at least it was justified. His eyes looked up at you ever so slightly, perched above him on his desk. "What are you really doin' here sweetheart?" His eyes hard, digging for information, but his body was relaxed, smile still soft. He was pretty sure knew the answer, he just wanted to hear you say it.

The blush that crept up your neck to your cheeks betrayed you but you tried to stay nonchalant, "Haven't seen you much this week is all."

There's a pang of guilt in his chest, but it's diluted by the fact that you're here, in the office, sitting on his desk.

"I knew you had said the guys were going to party tonight but you were gonna stay behind." You toyed with the sleeve of his hoodie, fingers pulling at a loose thread

Benny licked his lips, his fingers clenched and unclenched around the armrest of his chair, and you lost your train of thought. He picked up your slack, "Not gonna get much paperwork done with you here looking like that." He was better at this, more experienced and collected. Finally he sat up, moving closer to you, rolling back to his desk and tugging you to the edge so he could wrap his arms around you.

He's nestled between your legs, rough hands smoothing up and down you thighs, eyes mesmerized with the motion. What stops him is your hand at the side of his neck, your thumb hooked under his chin, tilting up so he was looking at you. He doesn't say anything as he wraps his arms around you again and meets you half way.

You sigh as soon as your lips meet his and after a few slow steady passes of his mouth over yours your sighs turn to a hum as his hands slip under the sweatshirt and land on bare skin.

At first he doesn't really move them, tugs you the slightest bit closer as he kisses you but that's really it. Then, suddenly his grip tightens and his fingers dig into the skin at your lower back. "C'mere." He's pulling you off the desk and turning you around before you really know what his plan is but you catch up quickly as he pulls you back to sit in his lap.

Borrachos arms circle your waist again, keeping you snug against him, back pressed against his chest and his mouth hovering just behind your ear. He drops a kiss there before he turns the chair slightly, moving to look over his shoulder and the mostly dark, mostly deserted collection of cubicles outside. Then his lips are back on your neck and his hands are sliding up and down the insides of your thighs. "You're amazing you know that?" His lips are soft on the delicate skin of your neck but his mustache and goatee are not. One hand slides under the sweatshirt, his sweatshirt, and ghosts over your stomach, "Can't believe you're doing this for me." He nipped at the back of your neck before turning your face to him and kissing you again.

You giggle a little, only half of it nerves, and shift slightly in his lap. One of your hands gripping the side of his thigh, trying to keep yourself stable and with the other you reach around to cup the back of his neck as his mouth devoured yours.

~~~

A couple weeks ago you had been making dinner together and Benny had been mixing drinks for the both of you. By the time the pasta was ready you were both sort of living up to his nickname. But it was light and fun, and you didn't get to see that version of drunk Benny a lot. The guys at work? They never get to see that version of drunk Benny. The smiley, happy one with the jokes and the stories that have you laughing until your sides ache. The handsy Ben, that had fondled you in the kitchen while you cooked. Not enough to turn into anything right away, but enough to be distracting.

Borracho was still that kind of drunk even after dinner that night, the two of you laying on the couch ignoring the dishes. You had gone and changed, to get comfy, he was always comfortable in just jeans and a shirt, could sleep in them if he had too, but not you. That's how this had all started. You had came out of his room in a pair of leggings and the black LASD sweatshirt he let you borrow because you were always cold.

His eyes had locked on you immediately and never blinked until you were snuggled up with him on the couch.

You had gone back to watching the movie on the TV but he did not. "Can't believe how fuckin' sexy you look like that." He had said it in his normal tone of voice, not like he meant it to start anything, just one of his many observations.

When you looked up at him he was still staring, arm wrapped loose around your middle, "Do I not look sexy all the other times."

"Not what I said." He hiked you up on top of him, face to face, eyes staring into yours. "I can't believe seeing you dressed in your 'comfy clothes' turns me on so bad." To prove his point his hands groped at your ass and tugged you against him, making his point clear.

You had been the one to initiate the make out session, something Borracho had sworn up and down he was too old for when you first started dating. You had proven him wrong. When it was getting almost to the point of no longer being just heavy making out and turning into something more he had pulled back, biting your earlobe gently before kissing it and pressing his mouth against your ear. "Can I tell you something querida?"

The question had caught you off guard, the tone in his voice slightly different than normal. You pressed a kiss to his jaw, "Of course."

"I think about you sometimes, a lot actually." He started, his voice quiet.

"I mean I would hope so, considering..." A slap to your ass and a string of Spanish mumbling cut you off.

"I think about you all the fucking time, don't worry about that." He moved to bite at your neck, working it between his teeth and sucking until you both knew he had left a mark, "What I was saying was; I have this..." He trailed off. Staying silent so long you thought he had lost his train of thought. Or that he had thought better of going further. Then he took a deep breath through his nose, traced his lips up the side of your neck and continued, "It's like a daydream, when my mind wanders at work... or maybe a fantasy." He took another deep steadying breath and blew it out, soft, slow and warm against you ear. "I think about you coming to see me at work, dressed like this, on your way home from the gym or something. Watching you walk into the office with those long fucking legs and perfect ass," He grabbed your ass again, with both hands this time, "Wearing this stupid hoodie." His hands slid underneath it, dragging his blunt nails down your back.

A shiver rolls through you as you squirm a little on top of him. Realizing what he was telling you, you couldn't help but kiss your way along his jawline, nipping him slightly at the apple of his cheek, encouraging him to keep going.

"I think about you in my lap, I think about you on the edge of my desk with my head between your thighs, I think about you bent over me desk while I peel these off of you." He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of your leggings while pulling you tighter against him. After that Borracho didn't say anything for a minute, just continued to stroke his hands over every inch of you he could reach. "Is that okay?"

You pushed yourself up a bit, enough to look him in the eye, "Why wouldn't it be?"

His eyes were heavy, half lidded as he met your gaze, his hands smoothing over your naked back under the fabric of the sweatshirt, "Kinda feel like a dirty old man." His halfhearted smirk lets you know he's only part way kidding.

You scooted up to press your forehead against his, "Ben, you are allowed, dare I say encouraged, to fantasize about your girlfriend." When his only response was to hum and nod his head you continued. Moving to wrap your arms around his neck, smiling when he lifted his head up of the arm of the couch to allow it, you held his gaze, "I fantasize about you like that all the time. Even before you asked me out."

"Oh really?"

~~~

It had been long enough ago and he'd had enough to drink the conversation had more or less slipped his mind. Until the front desk called telling him you were here. He tried to not get his hopes up as he had waited for you to get to the Major Crimes floor. But then you had walked in, looking a little shy and a little bit like you were trouble.

Now he had you in his lap, just like he had wanted. He couldn't keep his hands still as he kept your face twisted towards his and kissed you until neither of you could breath. He pulled back, only as far as he had to, "I should go lock the door. Just in case."

You smiled and pulled his bottom lip between your teeth before kissing it gently, "I locked it behind me when I came in. "

His arms around you squeezed you tight and he groaned as he immediately went back to claiming your mouth, "Good girl." He mumbled between kisses as his right hand slid back under the sweatshirt and moved to grope your chest. "Jesus Christ." Ben growled as his hand closed around your breast finding no shirt or bra in his way.

It was hard to talk with his hand massaging you, the rough pad of his thumb circling your nipple, all you could really do was smile and sigh into his lips.

Slowly he switched to the other side, gently stroking and cupping it as he pried his lips away from yours, "You sure this is okay sweetheart?"

You bit you lip, arching into the palm of his hand and being rewarded with a slightly firmer squeeze, the motion causing you to grind your ass down into his now obvious erection. "I'm sure Benny, very sure." You kissed him as soft and sweet as you could while taking his hand and guiding it towards the waistband of your leggings.

Taking the hint he kissed you back as he worked his hand inside the tight clothing, groaning as you opened your legs wider for him. "Fuck baby," He was shocked and exhilarated by the warmth and wetness he found there, "You are so fucking wet." Ben dropped his chin to your shoulder and watched the outline of his hand through the material as he traced your lower lips.

"Told you I was sure." You whispered in his ear as one of your hands reached behind you to grab the back his neck.

Before you could say anything else Benny had two fingers sliding in and out of you and your breath caught in his throat. You didn't have time to settle into that feeling because after just a few strokes he removed his fingers and moved them to your clit, pulling a moan from you loud and clear.

He smiled as you dropped your head back to his shoulder and tried your best to move against the circling motion he was making. Borracho was grinning as he tilted his head to speak directly into your ear, "You gonna come for me already mami? It feels like it. You're so fucking wet, I can already tell you're gonna make a mess." When you could only respond with little gasps and moans he began circling your clit harder. "You are gonna feel so fucking good. It's been a long damn week and now you're here, dripping wet for me, I'm going to make you feel so good baby I promise." He groaned when your hand tugged at his hair, "You want that baby? You want me to bend you over my desk and fuck you till you cream all over my cock."

Just like that you were biting your lip hard and arching up out of his lap and into his hand, circling faster and faster, your whole body writhing for a moment until you took a gasping breath and sagged against him. He smiled into the side of your neck, slowing his fingers as he kissed you there.

When your grip on the back of his neck loosened and you turned to kiss him Benny was still smiling, "I gotta warn you baby, I'm not gonna last long."

You chuckled as you reached for a kiss, but you both knew there was no meanness in it, "Why you say that papi?"

Borracho groaned and drug your ass back against his painfully hard cock, easily noticeable even through his jeans, "You got me so keyed up baby, not gonna be able to help it."

"When my brain clears up a little bit, I'll come up with an old man comment." She laughed, still a little breathless, but it turned into a surprised squeak as Ben stood you both up and walked you back against his desk.

"You're such a brat." He was kissing you so hard you were bending backwards over the desk. "Don't make me get my cuffs out." When he pulled back his eyes were dark and he was smirking.

To your credit you blushed a little, trying to hide your face in his neck, remembering all the things he had done to you when you had revealed that particular fantasy of your own to him. Recovering quickly you pulled him down for another kiss, "Bring 'em home with you." You mumbled the words against his lips as your hands worked at his belt buckle.

"Hold on sweetheart." He leaned back from you standing up straight and pushing back the side of his button down shirt to pull his holster off his belt and shut it in a desk drawer.

Laying back on his desk you propped a heal up on the edge and rolled your eyes, "Couldn't have done that earlier Detective Magalon." You watched him with a smile as he undid his belt and untucked his shirt.

His eyes snapped to yours, still black and heated, but with an easy tilt to his lips, "I was a little distracted." Without going further he moved back to you and slid his hands up your legs until he could hook his fingers in the waistband of your leggings and peel them down, slowly. Inch by inch. "You are very distracting."

Your teeth sunk back into your bottom lip as you picked your hips up and allowed him to strip you of your leggings and pull your shoes off. Before you could respond though he gripped your ankle and tugged you to the edge of his desk, flush against him with your legs on either side of his hips. Even after another surprised little squeak you were speechless, watching his hands smooth up and down your bare legs while he looked at you. Took in the sight before him, committing it to memory.

When his eyes focused back on yours again he caught you smiling, licking your lips, your mouth dry in anticipation. "What're you thinking sweetheart?" He asked the question as his hand moved to splay heavy and wide over your lower abdomen, his thumb slipping to part our lower lips again before settling directly over your clit. Picking up a steady, slow, building pressure.

Eyes falling closed you pursed your lips and fought to keep your thoughts in order, "This was a good idea."

Borracho smirked, increasing the pressure on your clit while the other hand held your thigh tight against his hip.

When you opened your eyes and looked back to him you were blushing, only slightly, but enough to notice, "I never would have been able to do anything like this before..."

Before... you met him. Ben finished your sentence in his mind. The thought sending an electric shock to the base of his spine. You hadn't been innocent, perse, when you had started dating, but shy and a little insecure. Borracho knew he wasn't necessarily a good guy, he did bad things, but he had made it a point to treat you well, better than any other woman he'd attempted a relationship with. Looking down at you, half naked, laying on his work desk with your pussy wet and warm and waiting for him he knew that he was doing something right.

"C'mere." Removing the hand from your thigh he reached up to the back of your neck and lifted you up, bending over you and meeting you half way to steal a kiss he spoke low, his voice a little strained from the effort and the position, "You're amazing, y'know that?"

Wrapping your arms around his neck you moaned into the kiss, hips still trying to keep up with his fingers as they stroked in and out of you, "Mhmm."

You were so caught up in the kiss that you didn't notice the hand between your legs disappearing, did not notice what he was doing until you felt the heavy head of his cock tapping against your clit. You moaned into the kiss, hips jumping at the surprise and the sensation, body bowing up to press against him as much as you could.

That little jump of surprise had Benny clenching the base of his cock tighter, fighting against the urge to lose control. Your fingers were digging into his neck, his hair, his shoulders, whatever you could get hold of and he knew he had been right, he was not going to last long.

"Papi please..."

All he did was smile, line himself up, and drive as far and as deep into you as he could. A shiver overtook him as your pussy clenched around him and your entire body trembled as you lay back over the desk, back arching and your one hand digging into his shoulder hard enough for your nails to leave marks, even through the shirt. He didn't stay still long, immediately moving to withdraw and slide back in, "Is that what you wanted?"

You nodded, eyes closed and bottom lip between your teeth.

Hands moving to hold your hips tight and pull you to meet each thrust he let some of his control slip, glancing over his shoulder one last time while he still had the capacity, his head snapped back to you when you groaned again, frustrated.

He had to close his eyes and collect himself, "What's wrong baby?"

"More, need more." Your hand came down to wrap tight around his wrist and try to use the leverage to move your hips against his, "Please.. so close."

Borracho knew, you didn't mean close to coming, he could feel that much. You meant close to what you wanted, what you needed to get there. Changing his stance slightly and moving one arm so that he could brace himself above you he whispered in your ear, "What do you want querida? Harder? Faster? Want me to play with you?" He chuckled, dropped a sloppy, open mouth kiss to your neck when your pussy fluttered around him.

"Yes, that." You giggled.

Benny was done for, then and there.

Still leaning down over you, reclaiming your mouth, he slid his hand back to thumb over your clit and with your arms still wrapped tight around him Borracho let the last of his control slip away. The desk was shaking beneath to two of you as he drove into you over and over, groaning slightly when you buried your face in his shoulder, your sweet little moans and cries muffled into the fabric of his shirt.

It came over him quickly once he felt your body jerk and go rigid beneath him, your pussy pulsing and clenching around him sent him over the edge. It was all he could do to keep himself quiet with you trembling and gasping for breath. Once his own tremors had subsided he dug his hand into your now messy hair and drug your mouth to his for a bruising kiss that was all tongues and teeth. "I fucking love you, you know that right?" He whispered between kisses, groaning when your nails ghosted over the nape of his neck.

You sighed, all of your strength leaving your body all of a sudden. "I know baby." You tugged him back down for one more kiss, "I love you too." before he begrudgingly stood up and pulled away from you.

Winded, trying to ignore the tremors still pulsing through his body, Borracho stood up straight and tucked himself back into his jeans leaving his shirt untucked. "C'mon sweetheart." He reached down to pick up your leggings and help you stand up, "We'll get you cleaned up at home."

On shaky feet you stood up, one hand bracing on his shoulder for a moment, "In a hurry to get home?"

He chuckled as he helped you get back into your leggings without falling over. "Maybe." With one hand on your thigh he guided you back to sit on his desk as he knelt down and helped you back into your sneakers. Standing up Borracho leaned in for a kiss, winking at you before he stepped back to finally do up his jeans and belt. "Unless you wanna stay here longer?"

You stayed there, perched on his desk, still catching your breath and trying to hide the way your legs were shaking, "I'm good." You watched him as he moved around, pulling his gun from the drawer and putting it back on his belt, then gathering up his phone and keys, slapping the laptop next to you shut.

When he seemed ready to go he paused, looking you over one more time, sitting on the edge of his desk, legs crossed, nd hair disheveled. Smirking he stepped closer and placed a gentle hand on the back of your head pulling you into a kiss. Benny chuckled when you uncrossed your legs and shifted to let him step closer.

"What're you thinking handsome?" You settled your hands on his sides and leaned into the kiss.

Voice quiet and sure Benny moved his hand to your hip and easily tugged you off the desk, letting you slide down his body to land on your feet, "You're amazing, I love you," He dipped his head for another fleeting brush of the lips, "And it'll be weeks before I can sit here without getting a hard on."

That made you laugh, but it also made you blush and lean into him to hide your face, "I'm sorry? I think."

Borracho patted you on the ass with another chuckle, "Don't be." He leaned down and snatched his gear bag off the floor by his desk, "Let's go."

You let him guide you out of the office, bag slung over one shoulder and his hand at the small of your back, shivering as his hand slipped under the hoodie to settle on bare skin. By the time the two of you made it to the elevator you had calmed down enough to relax into Ben’s side and talk casually. You were about to reach up and kiss him again when the ding of the elevator doors made you jump.

"Borracho!"

Ben’s face hardened instantly at the booming voice of his boss and his hold on you tightened, pulling you close to his side, "Boss, what're you doin' back here?"

Nick was fidgety, eyes pinned and face red and sweaty, "Bar was a bust tonight, too wired to get any sleep," He sniffed loudly and rubbed at his face, "Thought I'd come see what kinda trouble I could get into here." Apparently for the first time Nicks eyes settled on you. "Looks like you got into some trouble of your own there Borracho."

He snorted once, his hand flexing at your back, "Got tired of waiting on me I guess, came down here to drag me home herself." His voice was both detached and a little deflective, covering for you and himself, playing you off as another annoying girlfriend.

You would have been upset if it wasn't for the soft and steady pressure of his hand at your back, Benny’s thumb passing back and forth, gentle and comforting. Letting you know his words did not reflect his feelings.

Nick laughed and stepped towards Borracho, slapping him on the back. "Y'know if I had a nice, little piece of ass like that at home..." He dragged his eyes up and down your body, "Well, I might actually go home." Nick laughed loudly at his own joke.

Borracho forcing out a chuckle, subtly guided you towards the elevator and away from Nick.

Apparently taking the hint Nick laughed again, "Hey, don't let me interrupt." He stepped past Borracho not so discreetly trying to steel a look at your ass. "Don't let her keep you up too late bro, we got a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

When you were finally, safely, inside the closed elevator you groaned heart still pounding from almost potentially getting caught, "I know I don't know him, but I really don't like your boss."

"Not a lot of people do, don't worry." Ben leaned back against the wall beside you, "I"m sorry."

"What're you gonna say when he tells everyone he saw me down here, leaving with you?"

Benny held your eyes and smirked, "The truth." The doors dinged and opened to the parking garage.

"Which is?"

Grabbing a fist full of the hoodie he tugged you in the opposite direction you had been walking , your body bumping into his in the process. "You got tired of waiting on me to come home so you came down here and dragged me home."

When he noticed you staring out the corner of your eye he came to a stop beside his truck and carefully pressed you back against it,"This, is just between you and me baby. No way in hell am I gonna let Nick or any of the other asshats I work with know that you came down here to surprise me and let me fuck you on my desk." He tossed his bag in the back of the truck one handed, eyes never leaving yours, as his hands settled on your waist, "Definitely not gonna tell them that I walked you right past the boss with my cum still dripping out of you."

You shoved him back away from you, groaning in frustration as much as embarrassment, "Not helping!"

He easily came back to stand in front of you a cheeky grin on his face, "I'm serious though, okay?

"I know, I know. Just still can't believe I did that." You reached to cover your face but Benny stopped you with easy hands and a gentle shake his head. Looking him in the eye again you smirked, "You're a bad influence on me Magalon."

"Don't I know it."

The End

~~~~

#benny borracho magalon #benny magalon #Borracho Magalon x Reader #borracho x reader #den of thieves #den of thieves film #den of thieves fanfiction #maurice compte

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mrssylargray · 4 months

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#ray merrimen #den of thieves #pablo schreiber #pabloschreiberedit #my gif

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hibiscuswrites · 2 months

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Is there ever a situation where Ray get jealous and possessive? How would he show his dominance?

I would say he gets possessive much more than he gets jealous. He trusts you and knows that he doesn't have to worry about you stepping out, and most men know better than to go after whats his. So I don't see very many instances where he gets jealous.

But possessive? Often.

He's protective over you and his family, so he really doesn't give people an inch. A dude trying to chat to you at the store or something? He sidles up behind you completely silent, doesn't even say a word, just wraps his arm around your waist, hand stroking over your tummy in a way that only your man would touch you. So he stakes his claim, mouth closed, eyes boring into the dude until he scurries away.

At the bar or restaurant and a dude sends a drink your way? He looks over at whoever the waitress says ordered it and lifts it up in mock gratitude before holding it up to your lips and pouring the drink into your mouth, making a point of reaching his thumb over to gently swipe at the drop on your lower lip, then bringing it up to his own mouth to suck it away. He stakes his claim silently, but his energy is that of a Doberman and it usually doesn't take much more than that to get anyone to leave you alone.

Ray Merrimen taglist

@belle82devart @lilac-tea-time @thickemadame @browngirldominion

General taglist

@titty-teetee @vibranium-soul @ateliefloresdaprimavera @glimmerglittergirl @hatterripper31 @lilac-tea-time @krysiewithak

Reminder that you can add or remove yourself to any of my taglists as well as update your user so that you can be tagged here

#headcannons #ray merrimen #den of thieves #ray merrimen x reader

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tropes-and-tales · 7 months

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If You Weren't You, Part Two

Day 1: Hate sex (Benny Magalon x F!Reader)

(For the 2023 Kinktober event that I created on my own because I am boring and basic and am trying to keep it simple this year...found here!)

CW: Light angst, kinda; smut (PiV, unprotected); 18+ only.

Word Count: 5618

AN: This is a sequel to this, and it was requested for Kinktober by @thesandbeneathmytoes!)

The weekend passes uncomfortably for Benny Magalon.

He has the usual bullshit chores to catch up on. He gets groceries, does his laundry. He calls home, gets the updates on his family from his mom. He goes through the pile of mail that accumulated on his table during the week.

Every idle moment, his mind drifts to you. That moment with you, specifically. The moment of insanity.

Nighttime is the worst. He doesn’t fall asleep easily anyway, but Saturday night, Sunday night…it takes longer than usual to drift off. He keeps replaying that moment. In the darkness of his room, he swears he can exactly remember the weirdly tender way you touched him—your hand in his hair, the gentle way you kissed him.

The way he made you laugh—really laugh—when he jokingly accused you of getting turned on by being mean to him.

The curiously hurt look on your face afterwards when he implied that fucking you was some bottom-of-the-barrel situation for him. It was inexplicable, the hurt in your expression, because Benny hadn’t thought you were capable of feeling hurt. You were too cool, too dispassionate…or so he thought.

Sunday night stretches out long and uncomfortable. The minutes tick by slow, and he’s no closer to falling asleep. In only a few hours he’ll have to get up, get dressed, and face you.

“Goddammit,” he mutters in the darkness of his room, and he rolls over, punches his pillow into shape, and tries to push you out of his head.

-----

He doesn’t have to face you Monday morning. Lobbin’ Bob is the one leading the morning debrief, and you are nowhere to be found.

Benny finds out later that you are with the LAPD, plying your charm to get some case files they have on the suspect on a separate case. Right now, though, he’s just relieved to not have to see you.

He and Big Nick go outside after the debrief to head back to Major Crimes. His boss looks awful—he hits those Friday parties hard and never seems to have enough time to recover. Nick gestures to Benny to wait a moment, and he leans against his truck, slides a pack of smokes out of his coat pocket. He lights a cigarette with a grumble, then tosses the pack and lighter to Benny.

They smoke together in silence for a beat. God only knows what Big Nick is thinking.

Benny? He’s thinking he’s dodged a bullet, but that he’ll have to face you soon enough.

Big Nick takes a deep drag of his cigarette. “Sorry about Friday night,” he says. “You drew the short straw.”

Benny flicks the ash off of his own cigarette. “S’ fine.”

“You missed a good party.” A beat. “So how was she? Lobbin’ Bob’s pet ice queen?”

He shrugs. He refuses to tell his boss about that moment of madness in the backseat of your SUV, the weirdly tender moment that turned sour as soon as you both put your pants back on.

“Same as always,” he replies.

Big Nick chuckles, shakes his head. “You know, I’m all for women in law enforcement. Equal rights and all that shit. But I hate it when they get too high on themselves. The way she marches around, acting like she’s better than everyone…there’s no room for ego in this game.”

Benny bites his tongue, doesn’t point out that Big Nick has the biggest ego of anyone. How he insists on being the center of attention, the center of any moment. The Sheriff’s department resident bad boy who get results at the cost of….well, everything. At the cost of good procedures and policies, at the cost of his family, at the cost of his detectives’ personal lives…

“She needs taken down a notch or two,” Big Nick says. “Think we should be the ones to do it.”

Benny has witnessed plenty of his boss’s pranks and mean-spirited jokes. Big Nick plays rough.

He remembers the feeling of your fingers combing through his hair, the soft way you pulled him to you to kiss him. The startling sound of your laughter.

“Nah, leave it,” he tells Big Nick, but he should know better—Nick does what Nick wants, and tough shit to anyone who doesn’t like it.

*****

You learned how to compartmentalize things when you were just a kid, and the knack for it serves you well in adulthood—in your personal life, but especially in your job.

When you make the terrible decision to fuck Detective Magalon, that decision straddles both your personal and professional life, which makes it harder to shove away in a box and forget it…but you’re a pro at sealing off unhappy moments, sliding them into some cobwebbed corner of your mind, so that’s exactly what you do.

You seal off that moment with Magalon, you push it away, you start to forget it.

Monday: you spend the better part of the day with LAPD, sifting through evidence tangentially related to your case.

Tuesday: you testify in an unrelated case, drive up to Sacramento and walk a judge and jury through your investigation from months ago.

Wednesday: you return to the office and the case at hand. The LAPD sent over all of their casework while you were in the state capitol, boxes of evidence, so you sigh and settle in for a day of combing through it all. It’s a proverbial needle in a haystack, but you aren’t alone for long.

An hour into it, you’ve only just ordered the boxes and cracked open the first one. There’s a knock at the door of your office, and Bob peeks his head in.

“Hey, the Sheriff’s Department sent over one of their detectives to help you sort through the evidence,” he said. He shook his head, chuckled. “I tried to tell O’Brien that we didn’t need any help, but he’s afraid of getting iced out.”

You roll your eyes and hope the gesture covers the way your stomach cramps and twists. You know it’s going to be Magalon. That shoved-away, boxed-up memory resurfaces—the gentle way he had cradled the top of your head in your SUV, the way he had smiled down at you…then how he had insulted you right after, and how hard that stung.

“It’s fine,” you lie to Bob.

“Good.” He raps his fist against the doorjamb. “He’s on his way up. Play nice, but if you need me, just call.”

“Will do,” you reply, and you have only a handful of minutes to compose yourself: to pull on a neutral face, to take some steadying breaths, and then Detective Magalon—Mr. Tall, Dark, and Stupid—is in your doorway with an inscrutable expression on his face.

*****

You’re quiet all day. Through the morning, through lunch and into the afternoon—you say so little. The sum total of your conversation is you asking him what he wants for lunch, then you calling out to an assistant to place the order.

You eat in silence. You work in silence. Benny goes outside to smoke a cigarette, and he finds his hands tremble to light it. He lingers outside as long as he thinks he can, and he returns to your office slowly, drags his feet.

Your silence is unnerving. It holds weight and takes up space, like a third entity in the room with the two of you. Benny’s not used to women being so quiet when they’re pissed at him—and you must be pissed at him. Women he’s done wrong, they usually yell at him, scream at him, come at him like wildcats.

You just sit there and page through wire-tap records, witness interviews, phone records. You don’t avoid eye contact with him but you don’t stare him down. You’re perfectly neutral, exactly down the middle of the line.

His weird guilt and unease shifts back to a more familiar feeling: irritation. Lobbin’ Bob’s goddamned pet ice princess. Fussily perfect, completely boring. You drink water all day to stay hydrated. You brush and floss your teeth after lunch. When you get a headache, you pull open a desk drawer—neatly organized—and shake out a single tablet of ibuprofen that you toss back with a practiced flick of the wrist.

You’re a goddamned robot, not even a real person, and Benny hates that you took up so much space in his head over the weekend. He hates that he felt a burgeoning guilt over what he had said after your hookup; he hates that he felt nervous to see you again. He hates that he lost a single moment of sleep over you.

The sun reaches its apex and starts its slide into the west. The quiet murmur of office noise dies off on the other side of your door. Benny’s concentration wanes too; the numbers on the phone logs he’s combing start to blur together. His thoughts drift off to other things. He starts to fiddle with his phone, restlessly scrolling through his email, his texts, the handful of bare-bones social media he has.

You glance up at him from your pile of paperwork when his phone chimes—a text from Big Nick—and Benny feels your eyes on him. When he looks up from replying to Nick, he catches your studious look, your arched brow.

But you say nothing, so when you bend your head back to the task at hand, he goes ahead and breaks the onerous silence with a terse, “we gonna be much longer?”

“Big Nick got a line on some coke and hookers?”

There it is. Finally. He pushes a hard exhale through his nose and shakes his head. “That wasn’t Big Nick.” He doesn’t add more to the lie; he’s curious if you’ll think it’s a woman. He’s curious if any glimmer of jealousy will cross your features.

He’s disappointed a beat later. Instead of feeling jealous, you seem to see through his ruse but you play along. Your lips twitch into a ghost of a smile.

“Oh, a hot date, then?” The smile widens, and you lift a hand towards your closed door. “If you leave now, you won’t lose your deposit on her.”

Another huffed out breath, and his irritation rachets up a degree. He hates your implications around him paying for women, but he hates even more how close to the mark you’ve hit. He hasn’t paid for it, not in a long while…but there was a time when he had, back when he was freshly-divorced and smarting from it, licking his wounds at their big seedy parties each weekend.

“Jealous?” he asks, and he hates how lame it sounds as a comeback, but he pairs it with a stony expression.

You nod, and a fake frown replaces your smile, a pouting moue that would be charming on anyone else but you.

“I’m devastated,” you reply, dead-pan, but then you sigh and look back down at your paperwork. “No, go ahead and go.”

He would leave if you’d leave, but you seem like you’re staying. The sun is almost set now, and your office is darker, but you make no move to box up the remaining evidence. You seem like you’re hunkering down until the job is done, and that needles at Benny even more. You’ve always obliquely—and not so obliquely—implied that you are the better cop. That he and the Major Crimes assholes are reckless tramplers of the law, and that you and Lobbin’ Bob are upstanding examples of law enforcement.

“You coming?” he asks. He stands up but doesn’t move towards the door.

“No.”

“It’s late.”

You tilt your head but don’t look up at him. “I’ve worked later than this.”

The implication, Benny hears, is that he’s never worked late before, and he bristles at your tone. “There’s probably nothing here,” he replies, and he gestures at the boxes of evidence from the LAPD case. “Leave it.”

You snort, and you finally lift your head. You stare at him dead-on, no blinking. “That’s excellent police work, Detective. ‘There’s probably nothing here.’” You repeat his words back to him in a startingly good impression of him, his lazy California accent and soft voice, and he bristles even more.

“This stuff was always a long shot,” he argues.

“Long shots pay off all the time. Some cases are built on long shots.”

“So you’re gonna stay here and finish?” He glanced over at the boxes you haven’t gotten to yet. There’s three of them. You’ll be here all night. He feels that familiar sting of guilt, and then he feels pissed, like you’re manipulating him into staying longer, even though you’ve been beating him with your silence all day—

“Yup. I am.”

“Well, I’m leaving.” He takes a step towards your door but goes no further because that fucking guilt keeps him rooted in place. The thought of you spending a lonely night with boxes of evidence, and he’s supposed to be your partner in this—

“C’mon, let’s just go,” he adds. “We can hit it tomorrow fresh.”

“Tomorrow I have to hit something else,” you reply. There’s tension in your voice, a tightness to your words. You’re getting irritated with him now. “And the next day there’s something else. I have to get through this now or it won’t get done.”

“Shit, there’s nothing—”

“Christ, Magalon!” You snap, sudden, and it makes him jolt where he stands. You toss your pen aside and bring your fist down on your desktop like a hammer, and the display of anger makes him take a half step away from you. You stand up, round around your desk, and you go to your door and yank it open.

“Go.” You stand in the doorway and point out of it, and you actually fucking snap your fingers as you point, like he’s a recalcitrant dog caught chewing on the furniture.

“Jesus, calm down—”

The words slip out despite knowing that telling any woman to calm down always elicits the opposite reaction: you actually stamp your foot on the floor, and it’d be cute as shit, how feisty you’re getting out of nowhere, but you’re you, and he’s been ready to leave for hours, exhausted by the boring work and the frustration to be paired with you again.

“Get out,” you tell him. “I’ll finish it up myself.”

“I only—”

“I don’t need any excuses. Seriously, Magalon. Go home. Go find O’Brien or your band of merry assholes.”

He should leave. He wants to. You’re back to being a bitch, a living cold front that leaves him chilled by your silence and your judgement. He’s completely free to stalk away; he has no obligation to stay and suffer more. Except…

…except you’ve been calling him by his name all day. Calling him by his title. Magalon. Detective. You’ve dropped the pretense of calling him the wrong name, the pretense of conflating him with his Major Crimes teammates—the message that they’re all the same, interchangeable, identical in their awfulness.

Does it mean you see him as himself now? Did he lay you well enough to distinguish himself from the pack and earn that scant bit of respect—razor-thin, admittedly—that you use his last name now?

“Calm down,” he repeats, and this time it’s intentional. He’s rewarded by more outrage: you stamp your foot again (it is cute, he decides now, because you’re usually so collected). You actually go so apoplectic that when you open your mouth to respond, nothing comes out. You glare at him gape-mouthed, and nothing comes out, so he adds, “shit, you need laid again? You already missing it after a few days?”

Your eyes go wider, and you huff out a breath so heavily that your nostrils flare at the effort. “Shut up.”

It’s not a no. Benny smirks at you, and your eyes narrow into slits at his expression.

“Just go,” you seethe, like you’re pushing the words out between your clenched jaw. “Seriously, don’t leave whoever waiting. Your date. O’Brien. Whoever.”

“I can spare you five minutes.”

You snort, roll your eyes. “What’s that come to, four minutes of foreplay and a minute of action?”

This is cute too, he decides. You talking shit about his game when you know better. You acting like you don’t know how he is, like you don’t have the first-hand experience of him pretty effortlessly coaxing an orgasm from you—

“Aw, sweetheart.” His smirk widens, and he reaches out to trace a fingertip down the curve of your face. “You know that isn’t true.”

You swat away his hand and make a dismissive tsch sort of noise, but you don’t reply. He lifts his hand again, traces his forefinger across the neckline of your blouse. He doesn’t touch you, but he’s close, and when you go to swat him away again, he catches your hand in his. Pulls you towards him, takes you off your balance until you sway closer to him.

“C’mon,” he says. “Five minutes, then we leave, and hit those few boxes fresh in the morning.”

He sees that you’re tempted. He sees the way your expression wavers, and he isn’t sure if you’re more tempted by him or the prospect of not spending the night in your office…but either way, he’s snaking his way around the wall you have up, and you’re wavering—

“C’mon.” He drops his voice to a low rumble right by your ear, and he catches the way your breathing picks up, the rise and fall of your chest quickening. “I know you’re already wet, sweetheart. You’ve been mean to me all day. You must be.”

It makes you laugh, and just like that night in your SUV, it startles him. It’s such a rare sound, he guesses. It’s throaty and low but loud, punched-out. Just like before, he feels a thrill of pride to draw it out of you. He bets it’s a rarer thing to make you laugh than to make you come, and he’s done both.

“I haven’t been mean to you at all,” you point out. “I’ve barely talked.”

“Silent treatment can hurt.”

Another eye-roll. “You complained the other day that I talk too much. Now it’s not enough.”

A fair point: he did snap at you that night, right before he kissed you. He doesn’t want to rehash it at the moment. His own arousal is awake, powering up, so he lifts his eyebrows at you and says, hopeful, “so?”

“So what?”

“Five minutes, then we go?”

“Fuck off.” You move past him, out of the doorway and back into your office. “You just want more ammo for your asshole buddies. Tell ‘em all about hooking up with the ice princess or whatever.”

Benny shuts the door to your office, but he’s on the wrong side of it. He takes the few steps to follow you and says, “I didn’t tell them.”

Another one of your bitter tsch sounds. “Because it’s embarrassing. Yeah, I know. You already—”

“It isn’t their business.” He cuts you off, and if he’s been teasing you before, he’s deadly serious now. It isn’t their business. Not Henderson, not Z, not Connors. Certainly not Big Nick. He chafes under their closeness sometimes, hates that they work and party together so much that it feels like he has no privacy. But this thing—a one-time hook-up that maybe is burgeoning into more—belongs to the two of you. You and Benny. No one else. He tells you so, in far fewer words.

You don’t believe him. You finally turn and watch him, and the expression in your eyes is pure wariness. Underneath it, though, he swears he sees a glint of something else, something not easily defined—

“Come on,” he says. He sounds whiny but he doesn’t care. “You keep scrapping with me, and we could already be fucking.”

It makes you smile. It blossoms across your face like you can’t help it, and in the moment Benny just thinks got you, sweetheart, but afterwards he’ll think about how your smile, rare as it is, holds no artifice, not a single ounce of guile. He’ll think, later on, how your smile transforms your entire face from one of a brittle sort of prettiness to something extraordinarily beautiful.

“Fine,” you answer him, and if you weren’t you, it’d be adorable how you act like you’re put out, like you’re doing him a favor. “Lock the door then, Magalon.”

-----

The interlude in your SUV wasn’t romantic by any stretch, but you try to make this moment even less so. At least that first time, it started with him kissing you, you kissing him back. Now, you’re all business, and he stares for a beat as he watches you kick off your shoes, as you start to unbutton your pants.

“Damn, slow down,” he says.

“You have five minutes.” You push your pants down, give a little shimmy to get them over your hips, over your ass. You get them off but you shake them out and hang them over your chair, fussy as ever.

Benny closes the gap between you, and he manages to reach down and still your hands before you can get your panties off. He clasps them and draws them up, presses them to his chest.

“Slow down,” he repeats. He says it softer, almost a whisper, and it makes you lift your gaze to find him.

The corner of your mouth quirks into a near-smile. “Well, now you have four—”

He doesn’t let you finish. He bends his head and cuts off your smart-ass mouth with a kiss, steals the words from you. Your lips are just as soft as that night, and when he groans at the feel of them, he feels them curve into a smile. A beat later, he feels the sharp line of your teeth nipping at him, not very hard, and then the tip of your tongue tracing along his lower lip.

Benny releases your hands. He wraps one around the back of your neck to hold you to him. He places the other on your waist, and he pushes his fingers under the hem of your shirt to revel in the feel of your skin—soft, and so warm that you feel almost feverish.

You? You don’t romance it beyond kissing him, but you’re eager. He can feel it shimmering off of you like heat on pavement on a summer’s day. Your hands reach down on him; one fumbles at his belt and the button and fly of his jeans while the other cups him through the denim. He inhales sharply at your touch, even through the layers of clothing. He breaks the kiss a moment later when you snake your hand under his jeans and his boxers—the sudden feeling of your warm palm on his cock, coaxing him from half-hard to fully erect.

“Eager. Knew you missed me,” he gloats. He tries to catch your eye but you avoid him, shake your head.

“Shut up,” you mumble, and it’s defensive, and it could lead to you stopping this whole encounter and putting that wall up around you again, so he leaves it be and kisses you again.

Benny wonders what it would be like to take his time with you. This is paltry; it’s a meager mouthful, barely enough to sate any appetite. When he hoists you onto the edge of your desk and pushes into you—you’re already wet, just as he had guessed, so you must get turned on by scrapping with him—it feels just as amazing as before. Your pussy is molten, velvety, gripping him like a fist until he grits his teeth so he doesn’t embarrass himself and come too soon…

…yet he wonders how much better it would be to take his time. To have the luxury of time and space and privacy, to strip you completely naked and see what you really look like. He’d love to edge you, he thinks. He’d love to see you stretched out on a bed, back arching away from the mattress as he pushes you to the precipice of your orgasm only to deny you at the last moment. He’d love to strip away every bit of ego you have, every bit of smugness that sets you higher than him in your own opinion. He’d love to frustrate you completely in bed, would love to see your eyes leaking tears, that mean mouth of yours begging him so sweetly…

…because even like this, once he gets his cock in you, you turn so nice. It gentles you, rounds off the sharp bits and edges of you. Your face goes soft with wonder. Your eyes go soft when you meet his gaze. As he fucks you—sharp thrusts, steady pace—you tilt your face up to him, and you look so unlike yourself that he kisses you again. You sigh into it, hold him tighter where your arms are wrapped around his shoulders to help hold yourself steady at the awkward angle.

Neither of you say much else. He wraps an arm around your waist as he drives into you, and you mumble when you’re close but he already knows: as inscrutable as you are, as placid as your face can be when you’re masking yourself around him, your body is an open book. He feels like he’s tuned in perfectly to whatever wavelength you’re operating on. He hears the way your breathing picks up, feels how your kisses get sloppier as you sink into the sensation of your approaching orgasm. He feels how your cunt grips him tighter, how your arousal coats him and makes it easier to bottom out in you.

He tells you he’s close too, and that’s about the sum of your conversation for the rest of the night: you come a beat later, with a keening whine that sets him off and gives him barely enough time to pull out before he’s painting your belly with his cum.

You’re both quiet afterwards. He resists the urge to kiss your forehead before he parts from you. You might be resisting a similar urge, because you pat him awkwardly on his shoulder in a “way to go, sport” sort of way. But neither of you say much as you clean up, dress, reassemble yourselves. You’re both silent as you leave together, likely remembering how quickly shit turned mean the last time you fucked.

“Hit the rest of the evidence tomorrow morning?” he asks, and you meet his gaze and then nod.

You turn towards where your SUV is parked, but you turn back a beat later, tell him to drive safely.

*****

The case progresses slowly.

You and Benny continue…well, whatever it is, you continue it.

It gives you whiplash. The mean sniping with each other, the insults and barbs you trade. He still follows the ice princess routine, the prissy, bland, clean-living routine. He makes wild assumptions about your life—accuses you of loving beige, of being boring, of decorating your home in “live, laugh, love” décor. His speculations about your sex life—as it exists outside of your hookups with him, that is—make you sound repressed and tedious. You fuck white-collar men, he claims. With the lights off. Missionary. Through a hole in the sheet.

All of that contrasted against how he’s kinda, sorta nice when you hook up. He kisses you nicely, helps you clean up afterwards. You tend to fuck in inconvenient places that test your flexibility, and Magalon is nice about it, considerate to take as much of the discomfort as he can rather than let you twist or strain to make it work.

Tall, Dark, and Stupid. He is capable of being nice, you guess. Who would have thought?

Only capable of it, though. It’s not an innate character trait, you assume. He’s still a mean asshole, snarky, and sometimes his words hit their target dead on and other times they only glance off of you. You’re never sure when they’re going to hurt and when they’re going to make you laugh.

Once, you hook up in your office again, quiet because it’s the lunch hour and there’s twenty fellow FBI agents on the other side of your locked office door. Magalon makes a crude joke afterwards about how you need to take a day off to meet up with your waxer, and your anger at the double standard—this dude who rolls around Los Angeles in a flannel with scruffy facial hair, judging you—washes through you immediately. You open your mouth to argue because his judgement still stings, still makes you feel small and unworthy, but you catch him holding back a smile. His stupid dimple gives him away, and he reaches down and smacks your ass lightly before he goes to leave.

“Save that feistiness for next time,” he tells you, and he drops you a wink, and you hate that he knows you will hold onto his comment, that you will likely visit your salon before you see him again. You hate that he’ll see the results and smirk knowingly.

You hate that he’ll know he is capable of getting to you.

Another time, he hurries you along. It’s early evening, and he’s watched the clock all afternoon. It’s distracting and keeps your orgasm frustratingly out of reach, like you can brush your fingertips against it but not get a firm grip. You do what you always do, then: you gasp beside his ear, you bear down. You fake it.

You think he probably knows, because he peers at you through narrowed eyes right before he comes, and you hate that he’s savvy enough about your body to know the difference between the real thing and faking.

“Got somewhere to be,” he tells you as you clean up. You hear the rustle of his jeans, the clink of his belt buckle.

“Well, don’t let me hold you up.”

“Got a date,” he adds, and you catch the sidelong glance he gives you. No dimples though. You wonder if it’s true or if he’s riling you up.

“Lucky girl.” You perch on the edge of your desk and pull your shoes back on.

“You sound jealous.”

“I’m not.” You aren’t. You’re relieved to find the thought of Magalon going on a date with someone else doesn’t spark any emotion at all. You’ve done a lot of dumb things lately—chiefly the detective standing in your office, zipping up his pants—but at least catching feelings for said detective isn’t one of them.

“You sure?” He peers at you again, and his face is back to its usual stoic stoniness. Not a hint of smile, and you can’t read whatever is going on behind his dark eyes.

“Be sure to hold the door open for her,” you advise him. “Women love basic politeness.”

“If you’re jealous…”

“I’m not. Go. Have fun.” You shoo him away. You sit down at your desk, not wanting to leave with him and go through this jealous-or-not-jealous routine in the parking lot too. You see him out of the corner of your eye while he lingers in your doorway, and then he’s gone.

You don’t catch the faint hurt, the disappointment on his face when he leaves, like he was hoping you’d be jealous of the thought of him out with another woman, wining and dining her properly instead of just hate-fucking her.

And he, of course, isn’t there later to see when the jealousy finally does hit you. It’s just a small feeling; there’s no wild tears or tight chest. You’re already home and walking your dog when it hits. You imagine him out with a nameless woman, and you fill in all the features based on where you find yourself lacking: this nameless woman has smaller, perkier tits, a better ass, a perfectly landscaped pussy. She oozes warmth and openness. No one has ever accused her of being an ice princess. She has a complete, happy family: parents who are still married and still very much in love, an older sister, a younger brother. By the time you’re done walking the dog, you have written an entire history for this nameless woman, and the sting of jealousy needles deeper.

“It’s just fucking,” you remind yourself in bed that night, chiding yourself for getting so worked up over nothing. “It’s just hate sex.”

Still, maybe this is the moment you need to end it. It’s just a bad idea all around. Magalon says he’s never told his buddies, but you can’t be sure and you certainly don’t trust him. Hooking up isn’t against the rules, per se, but you’d hate the judgment that would spring up around the office. It also distracts you when your attention should be elsewhere; the thought of prior hook-ups, the promise of more. And now that you know he’s seeing other people outside of this thing you have, you’d have to make him wear a condom anyway. No sense in putting yourself at risk.

“Easier to just end it,” you mumble as you roll over, tuck your hands under your pillow and try to make yourself comfortable.

Yes, that’s what you’ll do. You’ll just end it. Cold-turkey. No need to make a scene about it. The next time he reaches for you, you’ll just gently and firmly decline. You’re not really the sort of woman to go for hate-fucking anyway, so breaking off your thing with Magalon is just you getting back to who you really are.

A temporary break from sanity, but now you’re returning to who you are.

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