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purdledooturt · 4 months

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songs to break your back to (respectfully)

Ignore the title - this is my first attempt at writing smut and I'm just snowballing ideas at the moment for a multi-chapter fic I want to write. There is a bit of context missing to this, but take it as PWP for the time being.

I did write this with old Heisy in mind, but realistically you can probably sub in anyone else - it's not like I go into detail describing him, but he does get mentioned by name every once in a while.

Uh. This is written in second person POV (self-indulgent). There is daddy-kink (which is abandoned midway), and a breeding-kink (which the reader questions themself about). Please practice safe sex, I'm begging you - condoms do prevent more than just pregnancies.

I wrote the entirety of this on my phone, because apparently the Notes app just gets them creative juices flowing. Apologies for any spelling or grammatical errors - I tried really hard to keep my tenses straight. Trying to copy and paste from Word to tumblr is a pain - sorry for any formatting mishaps as well.

I hope this is as hot as the stories that inspired it.

❤

You never quite understood ‘backbreaking’ until you met Karl Heisenberg.

Not until you found yourself laying prone on the bed that you swear is the epicentre of a magnitude 7 earthquake, with his delicious weight on your thighs, pounding into you like there was no tomorrow. You can’t match his pace, no matter how hard you tried. You are nothing but a doll made to be used. He has such a firm grip on your hips you swear you’ll be bruised for weeks, and his breath comes out in pants that made you wetter with every sound. At one point he gathered your hair like reins and force you to arch your back, but his ministrations have made your arms weak and unable to hold you up for long. Mercifully, he let you go, but you committed the action to your memory, to ask him to try again later, in a different position.

You can do nothing but lay there as he fucked noises out of you — your knuckles have cramped closed gripping on the sheets like a lifeline but he refused to let up. You’ve tried to hold your head up but could barely manage, as every thrust knocked you back down again.

Simply put, he was a man starved, and you were all too happy to provide.

He leans down on you, slowing to a roll. He grabs at your hair at the nape of your neck and twists your head sideways as he gives the corner of your mouth a breathy lick, and you moan at the intimacy of it. You try to catch his tongue with yours. “You like that?” He asks, tucking his lips close to your ear in a growl, “your cunt just gave me a little squeeze.”

You try to nod, but he keeps your head still, continuing with his slowed assault of your poor, bruised cunt. What he now lacked in speed he made up for with raw force. “Yes,” you gasp out when he hummed.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, daddy.”

He moans, leaning his head against the back of your right shoulder blade as he gave you a particularly hard thrust to punctuate the erotic sentence he was writing. “Good girl,” you hear him mutter, as he pulls back upright. You feel him spread your ass cheeks to get a better look at where you’re joined. He massages the flesh as he does so, “look how well you take me.”

You look at him over your shoulder, throwing your hair out of the way. All the other guys you’d been with always loved this angle and Karl was not immune. He slows to a halt, raising an eyebrow at you. You muster up your best innocent smile, batting your lashes at him. “Thank you, daddy,” you say, and he rolls his eyes at you with a shake of his head. He gives your ass a slap. The move didn’t have the effect you wanted but you didn’t mind — you love that he called you out on the cheesiness of it. You laugh.

He gasps, pulling out of you roughly. He is crouched over your legs, breathing heavy and giving you an amused and lopsided smile. “Geez, buttercup — warn a guy, won’t you?”

You roll over quickly — surely he hasn’t…? “What’s wrong?”

“Fucking vice grip,” he mutters as he crawls back over you, retaking his position between your legs. You can feel a slight burn in your thighs as you spread your legs wider than you’re used to in order to accommodate him, but the burn only adds to the excitement of it all. You watch him hook one of your legs up with his, in a move that got your brain short circuiting. “When you giggled.”

“Sorry?”

He takes his cock in hand, giving it slow strokes. “Don’t be,” he says, as he holds the base and slaps the head against your clit. You jump at the motion, and he chuckles. God — the sound of his chuckle, in the situation, is somehow hotter than the grunts and pants and dirty talking. You’ve never had so much fun during sex before, often feeling more like there was a role you were meant to play and you were gunning for best performance. “Was good.”

He rubs the head of his cock up and down against your dripping, slick slit, teasing you with a knowing grin that looked a little sharper than what you’re used to. Occasionally the head catches on your entrance and threatens to slip, but he coaxes it out to continue the slow teasing. He’s using your wetness to lubricate himself. You whine and try to wiggle to catch him but he is far too good at anticipating your moves.

Finally, when he’s had enough, he keeps his eyes on you as he slides back in, slowly and tantalisingly. You moan as you are filled again, and your walls are stretched around his thick cock. As he bottoms out in you with a low groan, your eyes flutter close and your head tilts back. Your legs jerk — your knees dig as best as they could to his sides, and your ankles try to find each other behind him. Your left hand finds his thigh, nails digging in to the bulk of his muscle, not to push him but to anchor yourself before you float away. “So big,” you gasp out, as your lower back lifts off the bed, and he takes the opportunity to slide his arm underneath to support you, providing you with a lovely, lovely angle. With his other arm, he supports himself, leaning over you.

Given his height, he is bent over you, caging you. The idea excites you, and makes you feel oddly safe. Protected. You’ll unpack what this means later. He presses his forehead against yours. “Only the best for my baby girl.”

Your eyes flutter back open and you giggle once again, and he groans at the action but stays in you. Your right hand finds his cheek, and you cup it with a gentle smile as you give him an Eskimo kiss. You take the moment to catch his lips in a quick, cheeky kiss, which he smiles into, returning the gesture with his own light kiss back. It was a quick, tender moment, like the eye of a storm passing over and enveloping you in a peaceful silence. Slowly, he rolls his hips and the dance begins again, but this time you are more familiar with the steps as you push back. For such a well built man, Karl is so fluid, and you were enamoured with the way he moves, looking down between your bodies and watching him undulate.

Your hands travel to the base of his ribcage, sliding over his wide chest, scratching upwards before you wrap your arms around his neck. Your breaths mingle as you keep your foreheads connected, staring deep into each other’s eyes. His pupils are blown wide, and your eyes flicker between his steely greys. It hardly registers in your head that he is asking you if you’re liking it, and your mind is blank as you agree, your voice disembodied and far away: Yes. Yes. Keep going, please. Harder, please, please, please —

He’s slowly building up to his brutal pace again, and like a roller coaster your core tightens in anticipation of the heights you’re about to be taken to. He slams into you, over and over, until the room is filled with the obscene noises of your slick union and the sound of skin slapping against skin, mingled with your panting and the punctuated gasps he thrusts out of you. He breaks eye contact when he nudges your head to the side to start whispering praises in your ear — oh, how tight you are. How well you take him. How your cunt was made for his cock, and how he was going to absolutely ruin you. You feel the familiar ache in your lower belly — you’re close. So, so close. And you can’t get enough of him, grasping at what you can with clawing hands and desperate legs. Like a mantra you plead, fervently praying to the shrine you built in your mind for this man you met while on this whirlwind holiday.

The angle at which he holds you has you seeing stars soon enough — he continually hits a spot that makes you spasm, and he grins proudly. “That good?” He asks, as you come down from the soundless scream from your climax. He hardly slowed to accomodate you and let you ride out your release.

"Oh, yeah,” you reply mindlessly, voice hoarse, and as revenge for his cockiness you let out a breathless giggle, followed by a kegel.

“Little bitch,” he swears, but there is no venom at all. He sounds so amused, so enamoured. Like he was having so much fun, too.

You poke your tongue out at him, scrunching your nose in the process. You were feeling carefree and playful in his presence. The arm that was supporting your back slides out from under you, and he uses his hand to grasp your face roughly, his thumb on your cheek and the rest of his hand wrapped across your neck and around your jaw, locking you in place. He takes the opportunity to lick your from your chin to your lips. You stick your tongue out again, less playful now and more desperate. He sucks on your tongue to punish you. He pulls away but you remain connected with a thin trail of saliva. His hips never slow. Oh God — everything he does is hot.

He’s made you cum at least four times since the night started and as much as you enjoy the treatment you were hitting your limit. You notice his pace stutter — he was close, and chasing the high he’s put you on four times tonight. He starts roughly pawing and kneading at your tit. You cover his hand with one of you own, squeezing along. Your other hand takes care of what he couldn’t. You try to encourage him.

“Karl—“

“Where do you want me?” He asks, sounding breathless and strained, and in a moment of sheer stupidity and fuckdrunk horniness, you gawk at him.

“Inside. Oh, god — inside.”

He groans, his head buried now in the crook of your neck. The hand that was massaging you is now on the bed, and he has now enveloped you. His lips are at your collarbone, leaving ghost kisses with his breath. He alternates between biting what he can reach and muttering “oh, baby” and “please” over and over.

“Fuck,” he pushes himself up slightly and catches your ear again, licking the shell of it. He growls, the timbre of his voice sending a shock down your spine all the way to your tailbone. “You horny little bitch. I’m going to fucking fill you until you’re dripping. I’m going to fucking breed you.”

You moan. ‘Do I have a breeding kink?’, you wonder. Who fucking knows. Who fucking cares? Your mind is blank, and you damn the consequences, begging senselessly.

He moans and stills to a jittery stop after a final hard push, and you can feel the heat of his release inside you. He pauses, his breathing intense. “Fuck. Holy fuck.”

"Holy shit,” was your reply, and he is catching his breath as he pulls out of you. You shift to lean on your elbows, keeping him in your sight as he gets up. He stands at the foot of the bed, taking deep breaths to fill his lungs not unlike an athlete who has just finished their event, and you do the same, involuntarily trying to match his breathing. You watch as he steps away, disappearing into the ensuite. You can feel his spend start dripping towards your ass, and without the added weight of him on your pelvis you take stock of the state of your body more clearly, and you swear you’ve broken something, somehow. As his figure reappears, you declare, “I’m going to keep you.”

He laughs as he approaches with a small towel. He begins to wipe your thighs with the damp cloth with a gentleness that was the stark opposite of the assault he’d mounted against your body previously. God — he helps with clean up too? Heaven help you. “Are you?” He croons.

“Are you kidding?” You ask, as you sit upright with weak, shaky arms and take the towel from him with a smile and a bright ‘thank you’, taking over the wiping. You watch as he wanders over to the kitchenette, still fully nude, now to grab two glasses of water. You could marry him for this alone. “Where have you been all my fucking life?”

He gulps down his drink. “Romania.”

“Ha. Ha. Very funny.”

“That good, huh?” He asks, with a wolfish grin, as he passes you a glass of water and he sits at the bed again with his back to you. He leans with his elbows on his knees.

You shuffle towards him on your knees, making the bed springs complain. He tilts his head towards you. With your free hand, you brush his hair behind one ear, parting the curtain which hid his face from view. You place your chin on his shoulder and beam. “That good. I think you’ve pulverised my pelvis but give me a few hours and I can go again.”

He throws his head back in a rakish laugh, and you find yourself wishing you could bottle the sound. He’s rearranged your insides, surely — you’ve never felt so many butterflies in your stomach before. You wrap your left arm around his waist, sliding over to the edge of the bed to sit to his right. You spill a bit of water as you move.

“God, I could use a smoke right now.”

“I have never once smoked in my life,” you reveal, unsure of why you couldn’t seem to stop your mouth from running, “but I could also use a smoke right now, too.”

He wraps his arm around your shoulders, and the two of you are oddly tender and soft in the afterglow. You knew of happy drunks — you didn’t realise something similar could apply to this. You were feeling… cuddly. Your cheeks hurt from beaming. “Have I reset your programming? You’re doing wonders to my damn ego, buttercup.”

You take a sip of the water and let silence fall over you. Suddenly the weight of exhaustion bears down on your shoulders, heavy and cloying. You yawn.

“Go wash up,” he says, giving you a slight shove with the arm still wrapped around you. “Don’t want you getting an infection.”

Romantic — not. But very caring. Karl Heisenberg was ticking the boxes swiftly and convincingly, getting closer and closer to your idea of perfection. A voice in your head chastises you for the irrationality of your thoughts, chastises you for hearing wedding bells after three fun-filled days and one passionate night together. Sure, it was out of character, but then again you’d never had anyone fuck your brains out like he just did. “Yes, yes,” you bat his concerns away with a wave of your hand. You try to stand but find your legs stiff and uncooperative. You’re like a newborn foal.

“You sure you only need a few hours to recover?”

You flip him off as you hobble to the ensuite, and he lets out another laugh, flopping on to the bed as he does so. You turn your attention back to your own care, and wash up as you normally do.

You hobble towards your suitcase to look for new underwear. You’ll forgo the sleep shirt tonight, wanting to feel your partner’s skin.

You look up to find him watching you, pillows propped up behind him as he leaned against the headboard. There is something missing in the picture — a cigar. He strikes you as a cigar person. “You need help?”

“No; thank you though,” you say, as you pull your underwear on. You wander back to the bed and take the free spot, sliding into the covers.

“Do you need me to get you anything for the, uh…” he’s at a loss for words for once. Your eyebrows rise as you try to decode what he’s trying to say. “Well, I’m not really keen on little Karls running around, despite what I said.”

“All good,” you say, as you reach to the inside of your left forearm, feeling around for the familiar stick that is your birth control implant. You pinch the ends of it to make it stick out, and he observes it closer. “Birth control.”

“Well, I’ll be damned.”

You pull the covers up to your chin. You turn to lay on your side to watch him. He brushes your hair back.

“How long is a few hours?” He teases. You slap his hand away, and with an exaggerated huff you turn away from him, and the pettiness of it all makes him laugh. It makes you laugh too, unable to maintain the facade. “Goodnight, doll.”

“Goodnight. Don’t disappear on me or I’ll hunt you down.”

You fall asleep to the sound of his laughter.

#pwp #karl heisenberg x reader #it's about time i tag this filth #it should be hidden enough now uwu #purdle-writes #karl heisenberg

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cheesybadgers · 2 years

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Narcos Fic: Trigonometry (Part 3: Tangent)

Part 1 , Part 2 - Read on AO3 - Masterlist

All In Universe Masterlist

Pairing: Horacio Carrillo x Steve Murphy x Javier Peña

(Parts 1 and 2 focus on Carrillo/Murphy, but part 3 is Carrillo/Murphy/Peña)

Words: 5,883

Summary: As Carrillo and Steve deal with the morning after and are finally reunited with Javi, the trio are forced to confront what they've been trying to avoid.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Threesome (all combinations), voyeurism/exhibitionism, handjobs, blowjobs, masturbation (solo and mutual), anal fingering, unprotected anal sex, double penetration, power dynamics, praise kink, dirty talk, frottage, biting/marking, comeplay, mentions of past gunplay/knifeplay, denial of feelings, mild angst, mild jealousy, brief mentions of canon-typical violence, swearing, smoking, messy idiots with messy feelings.

Notes: Well, here we are...the final part in this hot mess of a trilogy that's definitely the filthiest thing I've written to date 👀😂 Also don't be surprised if at some point I re-visit this universe and pick up on the vague strands of plot I scattered in, but I'm not making any promises whatsoever lol. Even if I don't do that, I would like to write for this OT3 again, because they're too much fun not to!

Whilst obviously I do not own Narcos or its characters, please do not copy, re-post, or plagiarize this fic in any capacity on this or other platforms. If you wish to create any fan works inspired by it, please provide a credit or send me a message if in doubt.

Part 3: Tangent

The bedroom was still shrouded in shadows when Steve stirred, and for a moment, he thought he was in his own apartment. For an even briefer moment, he thought his arm was wrapped around Connie, but something wasn’t right with that assumption. A disconcerting realisation when he hadn’t shared a bed with anyone else for too many years to count.

The body he had his arm slung over felt too broad and solid to be Connie. He didn’t have a face full of silky blonde hair, and he couldn’t smell her shampoo. The curve of the ass his half-hard cock was currently nestled against also felt different.

Carrillo shifted too, and his eyes flickered open once he felt the mattress move behind him. It wasn’t the first time he’d woken up in this bed, not that they made a habit of sleepovers. But sometimes, it just happened. The same way all of this had just happened.

However, the arm draped over him wasn’t Javier’s, and it certainly wasn’t Juliana’s. The build of his bedfellow was taller and bulkier than either of them.

Both men seemed to become aware of their predicament simultaneously, judging by how rapidly they tensed. How had they ended up like this when they had fallen asleep on opposite sides of the bed? Yes, their feet may have been entangled when they eventually nodded off, but that was as far as it went. Or so they thought.

They lay stock still with remnants of last night’s sex clinging to their skin, one wrong move potentially fatal. The only sound cutting through the room was their uneven breathing, which gathered pace by the second.

Javi’s continued absence loomed heavy over them as they faced the reality of having to call it in if he didn’t show up in the next couple of hours. Something they refused to see as a possibility last night but now was almost inevitable.

Perhaps it was a gesture intended in the same spirit of solidarity as that offered by Carrillo. But Steve’s thumb rebelled against his brain and delicately brushed over the softness of Carrillo’s stomach, just above the waistband of his underwear. It was featherlight, barely perceptible, but there nonetheless.

Carrillo sucked in a sharp breath and held it for what must only have been a few seconds, but it stretched out longer as they remained in stasis until Steve did it again.

This time, though, as his thumb stroked back and forth, Steve whispered, “Relax,” against Carrillo’s ear, his breath and the scratch of his bristles eliciting a shudder and a sea of goosebumps.

Carrillo’s chest deflated like a balloon, and a prolonged shaky exhale followed. It didn’t matter what they got up to last night; this was something more dangerous than any weapon held to their head or throat.

As Steve’s arm pulled Carrillo closer, Carrillo shuffled back a fraction, leaving no discernible space between them.

Steve’s now fully-hard cock protruded further into the curve of Carrillo’s ass. Had it always been this firm and inviting? He suspected the answer was yes, given how his fatigues clung to his form. Not that Steve had made a point of looking, obviously. It was just…right there on display. Hardly his fault if his gaze accidentally fell in that area from time to time.

Either way, he was making the most of it, his length straining against the thin material of his underwear as he began a leisurely roll of his hips.

Not to be outdone, Carrillo met Steve’s movements with deep, measured rotations. He steered Steve’s sheathed cock towards his entrance, their underwear the only barrier left between them and a role reversal of the previous night.

Steve’s hand slid from Carrillo’s stomach to the precipice of his underwear, fingers skirting along the elastic before finally dipping beneath it and taking him in hand. He set a pace as languorous as their grinding, neither man in any hurry after last night’s tryst.

Carrillo’s head lolled back, meeting the muscle of Steve’s shoulder where kisses and nips gentler than the ones administered hours earlier were scattered across patchy stubble.

Whilst Carrillo hooked his leg over Steve, he felt fabric sliding down his thighs. Steve did the same with his own underwear, tossing both pairs to the floor.

To Steve’s surprise, Carrillo pressed straight up against him, almost as though if he thought about all of this, he would change his mind, so it was easier to keep going. To forget once again about the negative space that still existed where it shouldn’t.

As Steve teased his cock over and around Carrillo’s entrance, flashbacks of that night in the bathroom flooded his mind. When he had entered Javi like this, using Carrillo’s release to glide in. He let out a satisfied hum at the memory and the sensation of rutting against Carrillo like an animal in heat.

If they were going to go as far as it appeared, Steve would need to grab the lube sooner or later, but neither could find the will to pull apart.

As Steve’s hand reached around to Carrillo’s cock once again, Carrillo clutched Steve’s arm in frustration because he needed more.

And Steve sensed it too, a wicked thrill suddenly shooting through him. “Ask for it.”

“What?”

“I said, ask me to fuck you,” Steve repeated, his voice a smoky baritone in Carrillo’s ear.

Carrillo almost told him to go fuck himself, but then Murphy had done well when the tables were turned. “Please...” He trailed off as Steve tapped his cock against him several times.

“Please, what?” Oh, he was enjoying this far too much.

“Please…just fuck me, Steve.” It was whispered into the pillow, a desperate half-prayer, half-confession that Carrillo didn’t understand but felt compelled to utter regardless.

It wasn’t remotely what Steve was expecting to hear, and he was damn sure it wasn’t what Carrillo expected to say, either. Nor did Steve expect to have such a physical reaction to hearing it from Carrillo’s lips for possibly the first time ever, but it was too late now. Another in a long line of curious developments between them that they weren't sure what to do with.

Whilst the two of them had been caught up in their latest game, they had failed to hear the key turning in the front door lock, or the footsteps echoing through the apartment, or the creak of the bedroom door hinge.

It wasn’t until they clocked a moving shadow on the wall that they shot up and pulled apart in record quick time.

They attempted to cover themselves with the bedsheets as though that would hide the fact they had been caught in the act. But it was all too late as the negative space in the room very much became the positive.

------------------------------------------------------

“Don’t stop on my account.” Javi leaned casually on the doorframe with his arms folded and an irrepressible smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. “How long was I gone exactly?”

“Where the fuck have you been?” Carrillo asked. A perfectly justified deflection in the circumstances as far as he was concerned.

Of course, the relief was palpable beneath the awkwardness, but it was absolutely fucking typical Javier chose this of all moments to make an appearance.

“Surprised you noticed I was gone, to be honest. Looks like you kept yourselves…entertained in my absence.”

This was probably the least likely welcome home Javi had been expecting, yet at the same time, it made sense and explained a lot about their fractious relationship.

He was taking great delight in toying with them like this, especially given how guilty and red-faced they looked. Never mind how much of a turn-on it was to walk in on them practically fucking under his sheets.

“I swear we, er, looked everywhere for you,” Steve stuttered feebly, failing to meet Javi’s eye.

“Oh, really? And the last stop was my bed?”

Javi sauntered towards his bed, shrugging off his jacket, boots and socks and making a beeline for Steve, who happened to be nearest. And admittedly was an easier target than Carrillo.

“You not gonna tell us what happened?” Steve tried again; the concern etched into his brow.

“Plenty of time for that later.” Javi was already mouthing at Steve’s neck as he sunk down on the edge of the mattress, his disinterest in having a discussion of any kind made clear.

However, Steve put his arm out to push Javi back slightly. “Nice try, Javi.”

Javi huffed a frustrated sigh and gave Carrillo a pleading look over Steve’s shoulder. A look that Carrillo had seen countless times before, not just when used on him and Murphy but on informants, colleagues at the Embassy, and unsuspecting strangers sitting alone at bars.

And as much as Carrillo liked to think he had Javier wrapped around his little finger, saying no to those alluring chestnut eyes was becoming increasingly difficult. But not on this occasion.

“He’s right, Javier. We deserve an explanation.”

“Fine, but it’s not as dramatic as it looks. I was on my way home from work a couple of nights ago. Well, it was more like 3, 4am by the time I got here. I was reaching for my keys when Navegante showed up. I figured he had more intel for us, so I went with him. Willingly.” Javi couldn’t help but laugh and shake his head at his own foolishness.

“Nice of him to reserve the full kidnapping experience for me.” There was unsurprisingly a bitter edge to Steve’s tone, given his own ordeal in recent history.

“To cut a long story short, it was your friend, Pacho Herrera, again.”

“He’s no fuckin’ friend of mine.”

“What did he want? Did he hurt you?” Carrillo almost dared Herrera to have laid a finger on Javier just so he had an excuse to retaliate. Not that he needed one.

“No, no. I’m fine. He just wanted to talk. He had a proposal for me – for us.” Well, technically, he had two proposals, one of which was exclusively for Javi. But he thought better than to mention that now. “But I told him to go fuck himself.” The truth on both counts.

“What kind of proposal?” Carrillo persisted.

However, Javi was done answering questions for the time being. He’d given them a general overview and assured them he wasn’t hurt. The rest would have to wait.

“I’ll explain later. But for now, I think I’ve got some catching up to do.”

Javi’s attention swiftly returned to Steve, who was still looking at him with a baffled expression. Javi used the same eyes he tried on Carrillo, with the added incentive of ghosting his fingertips along any patch of bare skin that wasn’t covered by sheets.

Steve visibly shivered at the contact and closed his eyes, any notion of protesting dissipating instantly.

Javi took his cue from Steve and leaned in closer, brushing his lips and moustache across Steve’s neck, catching the unmistakable scent of Carrillo as he inhaled.

Carrillo had been stunned into silence as he watched from his side of the bed with growing interest. There was no need to verbalise what he was thinking because all three men knew full well this was exactly what he’d wanted. In fact, Javi used that knowledge and Steve’s keen interest to his full advantage.

Steve grappled with Javi’s belt and zipper, pushing skin-tight jeans down and enjoying the fact his partner made a habit of going commando. He pulled Javi closer until Javi’s weight was on top of him and their mouths locked together.

Even though they hadn’t done this much before, there was a comfortable familiarity with how their tongues circled and probed, instinct taking over as they sunk into it. Making the most of their reunion now that the immediate threat of danger had passed. Javi was safe, the warmth of his body and scuff of his facial hair against Steve’s tangible. And they had a willing audience.

Carrillo couldn’t take his eyes off them. He was enraptured, captivated, hypnotised. Observing how in sync they were with each other caused an unrecognisable ache in the pit of his stomach. Not jealousy, because Javier had returned unscathed, and that was the main thing, but something else again. Something he chose to ignore, focusing on the arousal flooding through his body instead.

Steve’s long legs found a vice-like grip around Javi, bringing him nearer and jutting their cocks together as they lifted their hips in unison.

Whilst Steve’s mouth worked over his neck, Javi turned to face Carrillo. “Tell us what you want,” he sighed as teeth scraped over exposed skin.

“I want you here whilst Murphy puts that mouth to better use.”

By here, Carrillo meant lying back against his chest. One hand cradled Javier’s head and stroked through the wispy curls at the nape of his neck. And the other roamed up and down his torso, pausing at each nipple to lightly twist and tweak. Each touch a comforting reminder he was here and this was real.

Meanwhile, Steve’s mouth was clamped around Javi’s cock, his head bobbing as saliva pooled on his tongue. He lapped at the tip again and again until it glistened and his jaw ached.

One of Javi’s hands clasped Carrillo’s whilst his other found Steve’s on the sheets, needing their grounding as much as they needed his. “Fuck,” he panted as the two men worked more like a team than rivals vying for his attention. “I’m gonna come if you both keep this up.”

Carrillo raked his fingers through Javier’s hair and hushed against his ear. “Not yet. I want you to fuck him first.”

If those words were supposed to soothe Javi, they had the opposite effect, and he was glad that Steve pulled off him before it was game over.

Javi met Steve’s eye with a silent question, and Steve’s response came loud and clear when he snaked his way back up Javi’s form, pupils wild and dilated.

“Colonel’s orders,” Steve drawled, his teeth nipping sharply at Javi’s bottom lip, pulling on it until a groan vibrated against his mouth.

Carrillo let out a low groan of his own at the extra weight pressing down on him in conjunction with the use of his title. Not to mention the devilish smirk he was convinced was thrown his way as Murphy said it. Motherfucker. Perhaps it wasn’t time to call a truce just yet.

“Swap places.”

“What?”

“You two. Swap places.”

They did as they were told, although judging from the look Steve shot Carrillo, he knew another gauntlet had been laid down, and it would have been rude of him not to oblige.

Javi reached for the lube, quickly deducing why it was displayed like evidence on the nightstand rather than in its usual place. Maybe he should get summoned by cartel kingpins more often if that was the consequence.

His gut instinct told him Carrillo had been the one fucking Steve the night before. And the thought of Javi following suit sent all his blood rushing southward, especially when mingled with memories of him receiving the same treatment.

One slicked finger followed by another gradually worked Steve over, his legs spread wide across the bed.

Steve’s abdomen contracted with each curl of a finger, his head lolling back against the solid wall of Carrillo’s chest. It should have been awkward, and maybe on some level, it still was, but he was so far gone he couldn’t bring himself to care. And apparently, neither could Carrillo.

Carrillo’s hand carded through Steve’s hair, pulling harder at the strands the more vocal Steve became. “That’s it, Murphy. You take him so well,” he praised, the delivery of Murphy emphasised to make up for his earlier faux pas.

At the same time, Javi poured more lube into his palm and took himself in hand, momentarily distracted by the sight of Carrillo mouthing his way along Steve’s neck.

Steve growled at the contact and Carrillo’s affirmation. He tipped his head back further, chasing Carrillo’s bottom lip and catching it between his teeth.

The mix of Steve’s bites and the taste of Javier lingering in his mouth was enough to make Carrillo yank Steve even closer, showing no mercy as they clashed, almost drawing blood.

Javi gawped, enthralled by the ferocity of their kisses and how they fed off each other’s provocation. It was fascinating to witness them so unfiltered and unrestrained. Two men who often didn’t see eye-to-eye yet in so many ways were two sides of the same coin.

Javi had always assumed he needed to protect Steve from the world he and Carrillo had been embroiled in for too long. But it was becoming clear that Steve could hold his own better than he had been given credit for.

He contemplated what they got up to in his absence, before and after arriving at his apartment. He believed Steve when he said they had looked everywhere for him, and he knew neither was afraid to resort to violence if necessary. In fact, they were both a little too keen to resort to it, and the notion of them going on a rampage in his honour was far more appealing than it should have been.

His mind drifted to how they had dominated him one after the other the night he had been present. And he could only imagine the push and pull between them when they were alone, the jostling for control, the power play.

But it wasn’t just that. They had obviously spent the night together. In his bed, waiting for him to come home, despite the fact Steve’s apartment was one flight of stairs away. Any mild annoyance that reared its head for missing out soon vanished because he understood. He saw the relief on their faces behind the initial embarrassment when he showed up. And if the roles were reversed, he knew damn well he would have done the same.

That confusing thought snapped his attention back to the scene in front of him and the way his hand wasn’t enough anymore.

He crawled up the bed, positioning himself over Steve and between his legs. He leaned forwards, demanding Steve’s attention which had still been on Carrillo’s mouth until Javi’s replaced it with his own.

As their lips crashed together, Steve instinctively wrapped his legs around Javi, allowing Javi to find his target.

A groan rumbled from the depths of Steve’s throat, the after-effects of Carrillo still felt, as he was penetrated for the second time in a matter of hours.

Javi’s gaze was fixed on Carrillo’s as he slid inside Steve in a steady motion, fighting the urge to close his eyes as he reached the hilt.

Carrillo tightened his grip on Steve’s hair, his cock twitching beneath them as he studied every shift of Javier’s face. Some of it was familiar, some of it might have been the change in perspective or person; he wasn't sure which. Either way, it allowed him to hone in on every expression or sound, aware of his own arousal but not to the point where he needed to do something about it. Not yet.

Javi’s pace wasn’t quite as punishing as Carrillo’s, but it was enough to make Steve lift his legs higher. And that was when he felt hands on both thighs, raising them further and securing them tightly in place.

“Look at you, Murphy. Always such a good boy taking our cocks so well.” He clenched Steve’s legs harder, red marks blooming already from the force of his hold. “Still so eager to please.”

“Shit,” Steve moaned, his face taut with pleasure at Carrillo’s filthy praise and as the new angle plunged Javi deeper. He tried to buck upwards, but the combination of Javi’s weight and Carrillo tethering him prevented it.

Javi rested his forehead against Steve’s as they gasped into each other’s mouths, a silent reassurance and understanding in place of what he couldn’t say out loud. Because so often it was the things left unsaid between them. Things that had been building a long time before it all came to a head in Carrillo’s office. Since before Connie left, probably, even if they refused to see it back then.

It wasn’t just that Steve was a married man in those days, he was Javi’s partner. The first real friend he’d made in years. If neither of them wanted to acknowledge whatever it was between them, it was because they didn’t want to fuck it up. And they had done quite enough of that already.

Carrillo tugged on Steve’s hair again, forcing his mouth away from Javi and back to his. Only this time, Javi went with them, all three men colliding in a scrum of teeth and tongue until it wasn’t clear whose was whose. Not that it mattered anymore.

Javi was the first to break apart, panting hard, with a sheen of sweat flushing his skin as he looked from Steve to Carrillo with an unreadable expression.

“What is it?” Carrillo asked.

“I – I want…fuck.”

“Use your words, Javier.”

“I want you both to fuck me. At the same time.”

The only sound in the room was heavy breathing and their own heartbeats thrumming in their ears and chests. If any of them had doubts, now was the time to express them. But they didn’t and instead silently nodded at each other in turn.

“Okay, I want you to ride me,” Carrillo instructed Javier. “Murphy, you get behind him.”

They both got the gist of where this was going and took their places, Javi throwing the bottle of lube to Steve as he went.

Steve caught it with a smirk, understanding his mission as he drizzled a generous amount onto his fingers.

Meanwhile, Javi straddled Carrillo and seized their cocks in a firm grasp. He stroked and tugged, jerking them both off as he leaned forward, his moustache prickling over hot skin, their mouths meeting greedily.

Carrillo snarled and hissed through his teeth, his hands roaming over Javier’s shoulders and back, sliding down to his ass and squeezing. As their tongues danced and explored, Carrillo spread Javier’s cheeks apart, teasing up and down until a moan reverberated through Javier’s chest.

Steve added a slicked finger, continuing what Carrillo had started and nudging against Javi’s hole. He eased inside passed the knuckle and halted, using his free hand to run soothingly along Javi’s back.

“Please…I need more,” Javi whimpered as Carrillo’s finger rubbed over his perineum.

“Mine or his?” Carrillo rasped as he mouthed along Javier’s neck and his finger made contact with Steve’s.

“Fuck…yours.”

Steve dispensed lube into Carrillo’s waiting palm before their fingers converged, moving in and out of Javi as one and coordinating their rhythm.

All Javi could do was ride the waves of pleasure. His nails grazed across Carrillo’s torso as he alternated between grinding backwards and downwards.

After another deep roll of the hips, Carrillo snapped and withdrew his finger, followed by Steve’s.

Sensing what was about to happen, Steve moved from behind Javi to the side of Carrillo. This time, he poured lube into his own hand and enveloped Carrillo’s cock without hesitation. It wasn’t a gentle touch, but Steve knew Carrillo liked it rough.

Carrillo grunted as though he’d been winded, his gaze boring into Steve’s as no doubt the same snapshots from the previous night danced through their minds.

Before he could think about what he was doing, Steve raised himself up on his knees by Carrillo’s head, his cock millimetres from Carrillo’s face. “Think you can handle us both at once, Colonel?”

There was an instant look of recognition in Carrillo’s eyes followed by the beginnings of a smirk. Touché. “Try me.” Two can play at that game.

And with that, Steve pressed forwards into Carrillo’s waiting mouth as Javi sunk down on Carrillo’s cock.

With his eyes closed and pouted lips parted, Javi lifted and lowered his hips several times and felt the familiar grip that always guided and anchored. A grip that knew his body as well as Carrillo knew the streets of Medellín.

It wasn’t just their physical connection, though. They had built mutual respect and trust over the years and often shared a silent understanding where words were unnecessary. And the fact that Steve’s arrival in Colombia caused ructions from all angles should have told them their intimacy ran far deeper than they cared to admit.

As Carrillo took Steve further into his throat the same way he had sucked on the barrel of Steve’s gun hours earlier, he fought the urge to thrust upwards. But the sensation of Javier bouncing on his cock was too delicious to interrupt, especially when combined with Steve’s hand holding his head in place. So, Carrillo aided Javier’s motions instead, pushing him up and down, the repetitive slapping sound spurring them on.

There was no denying this was a power trip for Steve. To see Carrillo’s lips clamped around him. To see the strain in Carrillo’s neck and jaw muscles as he created the perfect amount of suction. To see his eyes watering when Steve propelled forwards, scraping his fingers along Carrillo’s scalp in the ultimate role reversal to that first night. To know that if Javi hadn’t interrupted them, Steve would have fucked him just like this. Much like their unorthodox use of weapons, there was no denying it was all borne out of a newfound sense of trust.

Once again, it was too much, and Steve withdrew before he reached the point of no return. He resumed his place behind Javi, kissing along his neck, shoulders and back. He dropped his hand between Javi’s legs to feel where he and Carrillo joined.

“You ready for more?” Steve purred against the saltiness of Javi’s sweat-tinged skin.

“Fuck, yes. Cutting it fine though, aren’t you? Thought you were gonna finish without me.”

“Good things come to those who wait, y’know,” Steve teased as he slathered lube on himself, mixing it together with Carrillo’s saliva and his own precum.

“You really need to work on your dirty talk, Murphy.”

No sooner had Javi uttered that jibe than Steve nudged himself at Javi’s occupied hole, bumping up against Carrillo’s cock. He looked down, entranced and, if he was honest, slightly intimidated by what he was about to do.

They took it slow, checking in with Javi several times, encouraged by the sounds they jointly made when Steve gingerly pressed forwards, inch by inch, until his and Carrillo’s cocks sat alongside each other.

Carrillo raised his hips to meet Steve, finally getting to fuck Javier the way he had restrained himself from doing earlier, although this was worth the wait.

A symphony of moans and gasps filled the room as they surrendered to an abundance of new sensations. The throbbing of Steve’s and Carrillo’s cocks spread through their trembling bodies, amplified by every movement, no matter how minute or subtle. The aroma of sweat dizzied and overwhelmed their senses, the friction of skin on skin firing intense shockwaves along synapses they didn’t know existed.

Javi couldn’t think straight. Couldn’t think at all. Couldn’t believe this was what it had taken for them to learn to share. Ironically, he imagined this was what a drug trip felt like. Only this had to be better because surely nothing on earth could feel as fucking good as this. He’d never felt so full up in his life. Never felt so surrounded, secure or…taken care of.

He quickly overrode that realisation by gyrating downwards then backwards, sparking a chain reaction that spread through all three of them like wildfire.

Steve and Carrillo held still inside Javi, basking in being connected this way after so much worry and uncertainty, now that their combined, intertwined form was the positive space in the room. Now that all three sides of their unconventional triangle had finally slotted together.

Javi could feel his orgasm building with each pulse against his prostate. One hand reached behind him for whichever part of Steve he could find whilst the other clawed at Carrillo’s chest. Anything to ground himself.

Carrillo read the tell-tale signs and sat up so that Javier was more in his lap with Steve still attached. His mouth met Javier’s in a desperate frenzy before leaning over Javier’s shoulder to give Steve the same treatment.

Steve repeated the action with Javi as his head turned, all three mouths fusing at an awkward angle, allowing them to savour the intoxicating taste of each other.

With Carrillo at his front and Steve at his back whispering encouragement in his ears between fervent kisses, Javi succumbed with a strangled cry. He spasmed violently in both men's hold, their clammy skin pressed to his as he spurted ropes of hot cum across Carrillo’s torso.

As Javi saw stars, Steve trailed his fingers through the sticky mess splashed over Carrillo, replicating the same path he took with his gun. He brought his slicked fingers to Carrillo’s lips, painting each one in turn.

Carrillo slowly licked his lips and took Steve’s fingers into his mouth, convinced he could still taste the metallic tang of the gun as much as he could taste Javier. Both men recognised the parallels, their shared secret pushing them over the edge.

Almost in tandem, they emptied themselves deep inside Javi with a chorus of growls and grunts. Their teeth sunk into either side of Javi’s shoulder, their seed interchangeable as it trickled down his thighs, leaving their mark in more ways than one. Proof that he was here with them, alive and well.

Their tangled and exhausted triad collapsed against each other as they caught their breath. No one sure whose limbs belonged to who as they unconsciously traced patterns with fingers and lips over hypersensitive skin. No one sure what they had done or what any of it meant. But it had happened nonetheless.

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Once they had broken apart and cleaned themselves up, they lay against Javier’s headboard, the sheets covering their lower halves as they passed a cigarette between them.

No one wanted to be the first to speak, preferring to hide behind the safety net of the cigarette. If any of them were to say anything, it certainly wasn’t going to be about what had just happened.

“So, this proposal, then?” Of course, Carrillo was the one to break the silence with a question he was still waiting on an answer for. And, of course, it was going to be about work because at least that was safe ground.

Javi took his time exhaling a cloud of smoke, less than thrilled they were returning to this subject whilst he was still indulging in his afterglow. But it was an improvement on the alternative.

“Apparently, other parties are getting impatient. They want Pablo gone.”

Steve scoffed and took a drag on the cigarette Javi had passed to him. “Well, they can join the fuckin’ queue.”

“Which parties?”

“I dunno, Herrera didn’t say. I assume Cali, though. Whoever’s left in Medellín. Probably others. It’s not like Escobar’s short of enemies. And it seems they’re willing to put their differences aside to get rid of him.”

“So, what they want with you, Javi?”

“They want yours and our intel to do it,” Carrillo supplied with a hollow laugh before Javi could answer.

“Bingo. Although…that’s not all of it.”

“Go on.”

“They want to run joint ops with Search Bloc,” Javi told Carrillo, although he couldn’t quite meet his eye. “They know you’ve lost a lot of men, so you need the extra numbers. But they also know you’ve got expertise they don’t. I think Pacho thought I’d put in a good word for them.”

“Jesus Christ. Are these guys fuckin’ serious?”

“Well, that’s why I told them to go fuck themselves.”

It was Carrillo’s turn to draw on their cigarette, and he was in no hurry to pass it on again. The cogs were turning in his brain, assessing Javier’s information from every possible angle. Analysing the pros and cons but drawing a blank on a conclusion with the limited knowledge available to him.

“I’d need to know exactly who I was dealing with before I made a decision.”

Both pairs of eyes shot across to Carrillo as though he had lost his mind.

“You’re not seriously considering it?” Javier asked.

“I’m not saying yes or no yet. I’d just like to know all the facts first.”

“I can do a bit of digging. Ask around my informants.”

Carrillo nodded as he finally gave the cigarette back to Javier. “Just be careful. We don’t know who knows what about these…vigilantes.”

Steve had gone very quiet, almost feeling like he was intruding on something. Something that had been impenetrable to him ever since he arrived in Colombia. He couldn’t bring himself to ask where he fit into all of this, fearing he already knew the answer.

“Steve, I need you to liaise with Centra Spike. See what they know about Pacho Herrera’s current location.”

For Steve, hearing Carrillo say his name when they weren’t possessed by primal instincts felt like Carrillo must have been addressing someone else.

But Carrillo was looking expectantly at him, and Javi was holding the cigarette out, waiting for him to take it.

“Oh, er, yeah. ‘Course. First thing tomorrow.” Steve could feel the word Horacio on the tip of his tongue, but he wasn't brave enough to follow through. Not yet.

But he accepted Javi’s offer, their fingers brushing together and almost making Steve lose his train of thought as the cigarette exchanged hands. “Can I ask why, though?”

“Because you and I are gonna pay him a visit.”

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Once their cigarette was stubbed out, they settled down in Javi’s bed – or was it theirs, now? – surrounded by darkness and trepidatious questions they weren’t ready to ask or answer yet.

It wasn’t that the negative space ceased to exist, but it had changed. It was no longer the absence of Javi or the denial of attraction. Or the refusal to acknowledge the significant-yet-undefined bond between the three of them, but plenty was still left unaddressed and unspoken.

Because without meaning to, they had transformed into something else again. Something in equilibrium. A triumvirate that was just as potentially devastating and complicated and dangerous as before, but different nonetheless.

They dozed on and off in their spent and hazy states, Carrillo moulded to Javi’s back, and Javi pressed tightly up against Steve’s, their legs an entwined mishmash beneath the sheets.

They knew it couldn’t and wouldn’t always be like this. That their arrangement probably had an expiration date somewhere down the line. That they had opened Pandora’s Box by giving into temptation once again. That any potential encounters in the future would be impossible to resist. That whatever they were about to involve themselves in with Pacho Herrera would no doubt have consequences.

But this was what they signed up for; they did whatever it took and the ends justified the means. They had aways bypassed any out they had given each other at every step of the way. Because that was the deal when you went all in.

#Narcos fic #Narcos #Javier Peña #Steve Murphy #Horacio Carrillo #Carrillo #Horacio Carrillo x Steve Murphy x Javier Peña #Steve Murphy x Horacio Carrillo #Javier Peña x Steve Murphy #Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo #Pedro Pascal #Boyd Holbrook #Maurice Compte #Narcos fanfic #Narcos fan fic #Narcos fanfiction #Narcos fan fiction #My Narcos fic

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