#Javi x Querida

[furious-rogue-stuff]

Heat Chapter 45: Deserving - Part 2

Here's the next installment! Hope you all enjoy 😊

Pairing: Javier Peña x OFC | Javi x Querida

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

Rating: Mature/Explicit 🔞

Word Count: 24,000+

Summary: After a shocking occurrence, everything between you and Javi comes to a head that foists your relationship into a defining moment. Will the truth cause a rift, or strengthen the bond between you?

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of sex, including oral (m + f receiving) and unprotected sex. Mentions of raunchy sexual acts, angst, longing, stress, and fertility worries. Descriptions of power play, praise kink, and dirty talk. Allusions to jealousy, animosity, foreboding threats, and emotional distress. Some Worried!Javi, Protective! Javi, Upset!Reader. In the vein of Narcos being a bilingual show, and Javier Peña being fluent, I felt it was apropos to include Spanglish and Spanish throughout.

Heat Masterlist

Previous chapter - Chapter 44: Deserving - Part 1

Chapter 45: Deserving - Part 2

When you finally make it home to Javier later that evening, it's with another handful of groceries you purchased from the colmadito just outside of the gated neighborhood, and a head full of thoughts running rampant with worries that had no suspected foes.

The call kept looping like a record in the proverbial player of your mind, but every time it tried to source a possible explanation, it would draw a blank like a skip in the vinyl, and you'd be back to ruminating – trying to decipher the missing grove. Still, you found yourself feeling uncertain and unmoored to what your options even were, with nothing but a startling experience and the conjecture regarding its cause before you.

Hell, you hadn't even told Javi about the incident, and now? What are you even supposed to say?

Possible foul play is suspected?! Even in your head, it sounded ludicrous and overdramatic. After all, the investigator, the insurance rep, and the assistant manager at the dealership all conceded there was no definitive evidence that the tire was tampered with.

You were on autopilot as you came into the kitchen with the groceries and started putting everything away as your mind kept trying to rationalize the entire thing. The most likely explanation is the simplest, is the mantra that suddenly vies for influence in the swirl of what ifs and worst-case scenarios. You can hear your father's voice echo in your mind.

"Think logically. No point in getting hysterical. Be reasonable, and the answer will become obvious."

Sighing, you finish storing things in the fridge and only then notice that the stove is clear of the pots from earlier. They're actually soaking in the sink, along with the serving tray sitting clean and folded up next to the dish rack. The dinner plate that's wrapped up and placed under the stove lamp is the meal Javier served for you to have once you got home, and the sight of it makes you smile.

While dinner heats up in the microwave, you switch out the laundry loads and set the dry clothes in the basket to be sorted and folded later. You then head down to check on Javi, and find him fast asleep under the comforter while the ambient light from the TV screen casts a dreamy glow in the room. Not wanting to wake him, you tiptoe back out and go eat dinner while you stand in the kitchen. The sounds of the early twilight are filled with the trilling of the coquí and the breeze sifting through the trees and fronds outside.

Javier's house is tucked on the corner of a dead-end street in the northeast quadrant of the urbanizacíon, and behind the cement walls bordering the boundary lines of this corner of the gated neighborhood was a protected strip of land not zoned for construction, so it was often tranquil and quiet, even during the day. You found yourself thinking, This isn't a bad little bungalow at all. Just needs some TLC.

Once you've finished eating, you make quick work of the dishes and then decide to take a shower so you can make it an early night. After all, you're feeling drained, and still have a full workday left to grind through. So, you lock up the house, turn out the lights, and go into bathroom's hall entry.

The eucalyptus stems are still hung from the showerhead, and the hot, steamy water helps diffuse the scent of it soothingly over your senses.

Feeling refreshed and relaxed, you wrap the towel around yourself and shut the light off before opening the bathroom's bedroom door and tiptoeing around to your side of the bed.

The glow of the TV helps you maneuver soundlessly, and as you go, you see that Javier had turned over onto his side in order to cuddle your pillow. Tangled under his arm and over said pillow, is your nighty.

Smiling at the sight, you lean over and try to carefully tug the silky garment loose, but Javi ends up stirring awake.

"Mmph…Celina?" he sleepily mumbles.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," you murmur and sit on your side of the bed, stretching over to caress your hand along the length of his upper arm pacifyingly. "Go back to sleep, babe—"

He yawns like a lion and stubbornly embraces the pillow to his chest, taking the nighty along with it as he rolls onto his back and grumbles groggily, "M'awake now."

You can't help scoff at your luck. "No, doesn't really sound like you are. Now, drift back off, mi cariñito," is your soft coo, as you simultaneously pinch the strap of the nighty that's dangling loose and try to ease it out of his embrace so you can shed your towel and slip it on over your head.

Ever the contrarian, Javi drowsily rolls onto his side again so he can gruffly protest with surly grunts as he reaches out with his right hand and tries to heard you closer, but only comes up short. "Hmph, c'mere," is his raspy whine when he shuffles closer in order to lasso his arm around your waist.

"Ay, Javi, I'm still in a towel and I've been trying to get the nighty out from your clutches without stirring you awake," you irreverently huff as you wriggle away to the edge of the bed so you can go discard the towel and hang it back up in the bathroom. But Javi snags the back of the fluffy material and hauls you back, so you squeal, "Javier!"

His husky chuckle makes it clear that he's just been feigning being drowsy for the last few seconds. "Just come snuggle, preciosa. Nighty's optional," is his sexy drawl as he tows you closer until you're tucked against him.

"Someone is feeling better," you muse saucily before maneuvering around to face him so you can press your palm to his forehead. "Ah, you don't feel as feverish. Good," is your lilting observation before wriggling to get the pillow and nighty out from beneath you so you can shift up on your elbow and smile down at him as you taunt, "But you're still supposed to behave. No te he dado de alta, chavón."

He smirks at your bossy, 'I haven't discharged you,' and surrenders, flopping his arms above his head so that you can shimmy up and grab the nighty before untangling it and pulling it on over your head. With a cheeky tug of your towel, he pulls it loose from your hourglass figure and tosses it in the corner next to the dresser so you can easily scurry under the comforter with him.

"You took more of the medicine?" you ask as you cuddle up against him, smiling when he grunts in the affirmative. "I saw you polished off the rest of the leftovers from lunch. Thanks for setting a plate aside for me."

"You're welcome. Least I could do when you've taken such good care of my ass," he quips, and you snicker and relish how he squeezes you affectionately in his arms.

"Ah, you've taken care of me just as good," you sincerely assure and nuzzle his neck. His skin is warm, and his manly, spicy scent is peeking through the lingering fragrance of the Vicks vaporub.

With a pleased grunt, Javi noses into the top of your hair. At your hearty, albeit tired sigh, he hums before murmuring, "You feeling alright?"

"Yeah. I'm just tired," you mumble as you stifle a yawn. "Last two weeks have been exhausting."

Frowning, Javi is reminded that this is not the first time he's heard that – that you've had a tough time recently. He wants to ask what's been going on, but he feels you begin to relax against him, and frankly, he's still a bit run down himself. So, he kisses you on your temple after snuggling further under the covers with you, figuring he can ask tomorrow.

You're both able to drift off into a deep sleep, so much so that the TV is left on playing the late-night show, but it doesn't stir either of your slumbers.

No, it isn't until early the following morning that you slowly wake to Javier clearing his throat over the sound of the sink running in the bathroom. You can make out the ambient light from the TV screen from just beyond the shelter of the covers, and shiver at the chill in the room. Tiredly, you roll over and peer through heavy lids to see the door is ajar and Javier is at the sink. You can see part of his reflection in the mirror above the sink vanity.

He's dutifully shaving his face, and even though you want to bossily admonish him, you end up yawning and tossing the comforter over your head to get a few more winks of sleep in.

It must be a short while later when you hear him moving around the bedroom, so you shift under the covers in order to peer over and see that indeed, he's in his white skivvies and rifling through the closet for something to wear as he tries to clear his throat quietly.

"Javi, come back to bed," you whine, having peeked at the alarm clock and confirmed it was still much too early still.

Pausing, he glances over at you and sees you cutely curling up under the blanket from the chill in the room, so he snorts and lopes over to toss himself onto the bed before stretching out next to you.

With a kiss to your forehead, he rumbles, "Morning, mi amor."

"Don't 'morning, mi amor,' me. Get back under here," you boss, but with your tousled hair and scrunched pout, your command doesn't have the usual gravitas.

Still, Javi takes pity on you and tucks his legs under the covers before pivoting onto his side and scooting you closer. You happily curl into him and cling to his warm torso with a satisfied sigh.

"Where you going so early?" you mumble, feeling his skin slowly seep his body heat into you.

"The field office. I wanted to get ready early so I could call Kike to get picked up—"

With a snippy hum, you sass, "I haven't declared you completely cured, tough guy—"

He scoffs amusedly, "I feel fine, mandona."

Pouting stubbornly, you shift to take his temperature with your hand at his forehead. "Hmph…we'll see what the thermometer says," you argue, and shuffle up in bed in order to reach it where it sits on his nightstand.

Humoring you, he scoots to sit up and lean backwards into the headboard as you retrieve the thermometer and sidle close before placing it under his tongue. He bounces his brows at you, and you snicker, "Hey, you have proven you cannot be trusted when it comes to your own wellness. I don't want you rushing back to work if you're still sick."

He rolls his eyes, but obeys, waiting the allotted time required for his temperature to register. Satisfied that enough time has lapsed, you take the thermometer and hold it up to the light coming from the bathroom to see the reading.

Javi peers at it himself and smiles broadly. "Ah-hah, see? 98.7. No more fever," is his triumphant drawl before he kisses your cheek and croons, "Now, the only thing getting me hot, is you—"

You blow a raspberry at that and set the thermometer aside. "Alright, beyako. But you still have to drink lots of fluids, ok?" you muse and give him a haughty look before Javi ruggedly pulls you against him and onto his lap so he can shower you with relentless kisses until you crack a smile and giggle at his ticklish moustache.

When he ends up pulling back so he can cough and clear his raspy throat, you hand him the glass of water before going to make him some hot tea.

He's just set out his white dress shirt and dark suit onto the foot of the bed when you come back into the room with a mug filled with tea and a teaspoon of honey.

Drinking a long sip, he savors it while he sits with you on the rumpled covers. "Mmm, thanks."

You kiss his shoulder before chiming, "You're welcome," and settling in to lounge comfortably while the early morning news is playing on the TV.

The serene moment of just being with each other is something you both are leaning into, and are in no rush to leave the bubble of contentment.

He nurses his tea while you languidly caress your hand along his chest whilst you both skim the chyron to see the headlines.

With your head on his shoulder, you try to relax completely, but can't help the needling worry from yesterday begin to creep up.

"I called Kike already. He's picking me up around 8," Javi volunteers as he sets the mug aside on the nightstand, and you snap out of your faraway ruminating to hum in acknowledgement. "You got a busy day?"

Sighing, you wilt against him as you gripe, "Yes, and all I can think about is being back here after work and just lazing into a stupor."

"That sounds good to me," he drawls, before purring, "Can I join you?"

You laugh, "Of course, you dork," and sit up to goofily nuzzle his cheek.

Not to be outdone, Javi starts to rambunctiously fondle your curves, getting nice handfuls of your round ass while he suckles kisses along your neck. That soon gives way to you both fooling around, and the lust that had been dormant in you the last couple of weeks you've been apart sears up in your core. And when Javi's arousal presses against your lower belly before grinding against you, making your pussy throb? It takes everything in you not to become ravenous with need.

You manage to roll him onto his back so you can straddle his lap and kiss a luscious path from his jaw, down his neck, to his chest, all while Javi arches under you and groans – hands pawing to slip under your nighty and grip your hips so he can rut against you.

"Want you," he growls when he tries to sit up and pull you closer, but you shy away. "Querida—"

Sighing as you hold your ground and push him back down so you can resume your path down his torso, you murmur against his chest, "We don't have enough time, Javi—"

"I'll make time," he defies, trying to sit up again, but you nudge him back again.

"I don't want a frantic quickie, babe," you counter before trailing the tip of your tongue down the center of his abs, cause him to gasp and stiffen under you. "I want you in my mouth—"

His groan is starved, but his tone is hard when he grouses, "Come ride my tongue, and you can put it in your mouth, guapita."

How are you supposed to argue with such a salacious compromise?

Javier feels exhilarating urge flare in his apex from how swiftly you tugged his underwear off before yanking your nighty over your head and clambering to go reverse cowgirl so he can pull you down on his face. He slots his mouth to your eager cunt and licks into you just as you wrap your lips around the tip of his throbbing cock.

You both are so fine-tuned to each other's desires – know what turns the other on and how to pluck pleasure at such a viscerally sensual level – that it's intoxicating how quickly you're reaching bliss.

He loves it when you rock against his tongue to prolong your ecstasy, and you can't get enough of how he moans in completion into your quivering center when you hollow out your cheeks and stroke him into spilling his climax in the clutch of your mouth.

Needless to say, Javi is dopily sated as he's finishing getting dressed for work a short while later, just as you come out of the shower. You pause at the doorway and watch him swagger about whilst he pulls on his belt and loops it in the buckle before he starts fiddling with the ends of his green and blue-checkered-pattern tie tucked around his collar. Seeing him so relaxed and content is endearing, and you are struck then with how much you admire him, and how happy it makes you to know he's yours.

The sound of your feet padding over the tiled floor towards him makes that silly palpitation flutter in his chest, just before you encircle your arm around his waist and hug him from behind. He can smell your shower-warmed skin and the clean fragrance of your hair as he leans into you and reaches his hand backwards to cup your towel-clad lower back once your other hand caresses up to squeeze his deltoid affectionately.

"I love you, by the way," you flirtatiously sigh, as if it's a silly reminder you were compelled to voice just now.

Grunting gloatingly, he turns and wraps his arms around you before playfully hoisting you up against him so he can easily pepper soft kisses across your cheeks before purring irreverently, "And I'm madly in love with you, by the way."

You giggle and press your lips to his in a silly way and hum dramatically for him to let you down so you can stand on your tippy toes and grin up at him whilst you busily loop the ends of his tie into a perfect knot for him. At his confident smirk when you bat your lashes up at him, you chime, "Good. Because I just want to spend all weekend with you, to the risk of you getting sick of me."

Javi exhales a gruff scoff before snickering, "That's never gonna happen, corazón. Well, maybe the other way around—"

With a bossy tug to his tie, you purse your lips imperiously at him before cutting in with impish authority, "I haven't gotten sick of you so far, so I doubt I will, galán. So quit talking nonsense—"

"That goes for you too, then, malcriada," he ruggedly interjects and gives your waist a playful squeeze before nuzzling bossy kisses into your cheek, making you laugh brightly until that discordant little sigh flits out of you.

The sound of the SUV Kike drives pulling up to the front of the house has Javi exhaling huffily, so you sigh and cup his face with both hands before crooning, "No pouting, boss man. Go have a great day."

"Fine, I'll try," he grumbles, but his soulful eyes are warm and his smile is easygoing before he leans down and gives you a soft peck on the lips.

After tugging on his socks and black leather boots, he shrugs into his dark blazer, pockets his belongings from the dresser top, and steals one last kiss before rushing out to his ride.

Swooning onto the bed, you dreamily pine over how effervescent and tingly Javier made you feel. It truly eclipses anything else you were stressing or fretting about. So much so, you compartmentalize it all so you can focus on only the good feelings.

Discarding the towel, you hustle up to quickly dry your hair and get dressed for work. Once you're satisfied with your look, you turn everything off in the bedroom, open the windows, make the bed, and sprint out on your kitten heels to grab your purse and keys before heading down to the laundry room and out the marquesina door to get in your car and start the short commute to the Federal building.

While you're striding through the entry to head directly up to your office, Javier is coming off the elevator at the top floor of the building they've leased out to act as the DEA field office.

It's a nondescript building accessible off of a side street from the major avenue, and less than a mile from a principal artery of the nearby expressway. It took a lot of jockeying, but he and Steve were able to make the case to have the field office off of the federal campus, with close access to the main routes. The underground garage was secure, and the DEA agents on-site could make the office building their base of operations for surveillance, wiretaps, and old-fashioned detective work. CI's were met with off-site at another satellite location in the warehouse district that looked out on Puerto Rico Highway 22.

As he walks in his purposeful stride through the bullpen-styled office space, he can feel some of the personnel notice him and quickly find something to busy themselves with while junior agents greet him with varying degrees of enthusiasm. He curtly nods in acknowledgement to each as he goes, intent on getting to the conference room he and Steve have designated the "Case Room" for the time being.

His former partner and current co-SAC was in said room, listening while Segarra and the main senior agents on the case argue about the latest intel, when he glances up and sees Javi making his way over through the narrow sidelight in the corner of the room.

"He has risen," Steve jibes under his breath and relaxes as Javier opens the door and breezes in. "Nice of you to join us, Jav."

Cocking a glib brow at his friend and confidante, Javi goes to sit in the available desk chair someone had rolled in previously, recycling back in it with his arms crossed as he drawls, "Looks like I walked into the middle of a squabble session. What's the latest?"

"Basically, we think we have a solid lead on a distribution hub used by the main gang syndicate in the metro-area, but Segarra here is telling us we can't move on it," Lopez deadpans, but his sharp stare communicates how vexed by the ASAC he really is.

Javier can't help roll his eyes before shifting in his seat, resting one hand on the knee of the leg he just crossed while scrubbing his other palm impatiently across his mouth and idly along his cheek. The scent of cigarette smoke permeates the air stronger than everyone's cologne and the whiff of stale coffee, giving him an instant headache. Followed by a strong craving for nicotine.

"It's good intel, Jav. But we're being told our hands are tied here," Duffy chimes in gruffly as he leans casually in his chair and flicks the ash from his cigarette into his used coffee cup.

The constant static and tension between the agents and Segarra? It was something Javier had no patience for, and that was clearly becoming more palpable the thinner it wore down.

"Sir, that kind of operation would require us to execute it in coordination with the FBI. But Agent Bozzi's office has denied the request," Segarra argues, clearly tired of being the punching bag for the other agents.

"Duffy, you know a bunch of the guys over there. What do they got going on that would be more important than this co-op?" Javi asks the other man sat across from his partner, who was always better at keeping a poker face than Lopez.

"FBI has a lot of fingers in different pies when it comes to investigations down here. I heard they're working on a lot of financial fraud cases – that they staffed up their tax fraud personnel to go through tons of paperwork, but I haven't heard of anything big," is Duffy's reply before he lets loose the exhale of smoke from his cigarette. "I can ask around some more."

"Alright," Javi retorts before glancing over at Steve. "Wanna catch me up?"

"Sure," Steve responds as he gestures 'good luck' to the other men in the room before heading for the door.

Once he and Javier are in their shared office, Javi goes to his desk drawer and retrieves his backup pack of nicotine gum, popping one out of the tray and tossing it brusquely into his mouth.

"You should really try the patch," is Steve's aloof suggestion as he sits in the cushioned couch that's backed against the wall and faces the side of Javi's desk.

"I did, but the damn thing was itchy," Javi gripes as he chews on the gum and rubs the tension between his brows moodily. In a grumble, he adds, "This takes the edge off instantly, at least."

Humming, Steve segues topics with, "Anyway, as well-meaning as Segarra is, he's not endeared himself to the agents at all. Duffy and Lopez are stubborn, for sure, but he just doesn't have the authority to get much done."

"I know…" Javi mutters as he rubs the tension from his temples with his hand before dragging his palm down his face in frustration. "Still. That prick Bozzi shouldn't be shutting shit down like that without talking to one of us—"

"You, more precisely," Steve corrects, shrugging when Javi glowers at him. "Hey, you're the one in charge of coordinated operations with other agencies here. That means you gotta work with the guy," is his laconic retort, to Javi's added chagrin.

He stews about it for a few seconds before remarking dryly, "Besides that, we got plenty of stuff from CBP for these guys to start running down…"

While they continue to hash out the upcoming game plan for all the work happening in the agency and to come, you're deep in an auditing review for all the digital data processes requiring upgrading to the new standards at the other federal satellite sites on the island.

Your team had done a great job compiling the data, so while it was busy work, it really helped you diagnose what the next steps should be for each site, and come up with an automated plan that could be shared out with each specialist in charge of the upgrading.

Just as you're finalizing some notes for your report, your cell phone rings. You answer it and are surprised to hear from Jodalys.

"Hola, I'm not interrupting you with anything?"

"No, I'm just finishing up something at the office. How can I help you?"

"I wanted to let you know about a gala WAPA-TV is organizing. We have several big marketing sponsors, and I know local government officials are going to be in attendance, so I wanted to see if you think the Giving Back program would want to be a sponsor? You'd last mentioned how the Federal office wants to foster a tighter camaraderie with the locals, so I thought this could be a good way to do that?" she pitches enthusiastically.

"Yes, I think that would be something the program manager would definitely agree on! I'll speak with him, so give me the details?" you respond as you grab for your planner and find a blank page to scribble the date, time, etc that Jodalys dictates to you.

After running it by the program manager and his lead, who really likes the prospect, he starts making the arrangements, assuring you it might be just the kind of event even the Chief Executive Director, Mercer, would encourage the federal office workers to attend.

As you're feeling accomplished at the end of the day while you walk out to your car, Javier and Steve are hopping into the SUV with Kike to start the slog home through Friday rush hour.

Thankfully, Kike knows every shortcut and back route in the metro area, so they both settle in for the drive and continue their brainstorming session.

"—Maybe you can have Segarra oversee the rundown of those CBP sources. It'll keep him busy while the guys keep crackin' along with the ops prep," Steve is suggesting to Javi from the front passenger seat.

"…I guess," is Javi's lukewarm mutter, shrugging before propping his elbow on the door panel to rest his cheek in his palm. "Frankly, I'm at my limit of giving a shit right now."

Steve grunts and busies himself with the cuff of his shirt sleeve. "Yeah, I'm there with you. Definitely looking forward to relaxing. Which reminds me: Connie's wanting to spend the next few days just us and the kids, so hope it's ok if we skip dinner this weekend," he drawls coolly and peeks at Javi in the rearview mirror as he adds, "I got a lot of making up to do for being so busy while she's been stuck with Olivia, sick and all."

Nodding, Javi leans back in his seat and crosses his arms as he confides, "Celina said she wants to spend the weekend just lazing around together, so no worries. She's had a hectic couple weeks too."

Humming, Kike remarks conversationally while driving down a particular shortcut, "Yeah, Celina had a stressful time! That car accident, getting sick and all that. She said it couldn't have happened at a worse time with how busy she's been with work—"

Brows shooting up in surprise, Javi shifts forward and asks, "What car accident?"

Keeping his attention on the aggressive drivers ahead, Kike answers, "Oh, early last week. Her car hit a pothole and it messed up the wheel. She had it towed to her dealer. After, she called to see if I could give her a ride to work."

Steve can feel Javi bristling in the backseat, so he turns and shoots his friend a glance. "I take it she didn't mention it?"

Features hardening, Javi tucks his chin against his chest and leans back, but his shoulders are squared with tension, even as he tries to obfuscate, "It must've not been too serious—"

Unaware of the unease the other man is trying to bottle up, Kike beeps the horn at a rude driver before zooming around him, managing to multitask and cut in, "She said the hit was so hard that the tire came off. Luckily she wasn't on the autopista when it happened. The potholes in town are no joke."

"Shit. Was she ok?" Steve asks before Javi silently spirals in the backseat. "Well, she must've been—"

"Oh yes!" Kike assures, navigating the SUV down the intersection with confidence now that the main pockets of traffic have been traversed. "She was mostly worried about how it happened when she was very busy."

Before Javier let's his emotions swirl up, the rational side of him cleaves through with reasonable observations. Well she was busy, and then sick, and you were away so she likely didn't want to make you worry. It must've not been really bad, since her car is already fixed…

"She's clearly fine, Jav. Especially after nursing your overgrown ass back to health," Steve razzes, snapping Javi out of his internal ruminating. "Lord knows she's a saint for putting up with your shit. Even if you are a reformed and sweet-talkin' asshole now."

Giving him a snarky deadpan, Javi drawls, "Damn straight I am, and you better never motherfucking forget it, pendejo."

Kike chuckles at the exchange, always thoroughly amused by the frat-like banter between the two senior agents.

As they traverse the gated neighborhood and the SUV cruises down the street in order to drop off Javi first – prolonging the witty trash-talking session – a short while later, the rookie officer rounds the vehicle into a U-turn on the street in order to pull along the curb up to the blue-and-white bungalow.

"—I'm going to take her out for a nice dinner, as a matter of fact."

"With or without the kids?"

"I'm getting a babysitter—"

"You should, then you should romance her, for once. Try to remind her why she married your ass in the first place—"

"She remembers just fine, bud. What you need to worry about is finally getting your shit together and making Celina your wife already—"

"Sonuvabitch, you're fucking relentless—"

"Because I'm right and you know it—"

"And you know I'm working on it!" Javi scoffs wryly before patting Kike on the shoulder. "Thanks for being there for her. I really appreciate it."

"No thank you needed, sir! Siempre a la órden," Kike exclaims jovially before putting the car in park so Javier can slide over to the door nearest the curb.

"Say 'hi' to Celina for me, puto," Steve cheerfully rasps.

"Give my love to Connie and the girls, hillbilly," Javi counters glibly right back before wishing Kike a good night and exiting the car.

As the SUV drives off to Steve's, Javier strides up the sidewalk towards his driveway, where your car is parked right behind his in the open-air garage. He can't help round the sleek sedan, scanning it to see if there was any remnant of damage from the accident, but finding none under the early evening light. Grunting, he lopes to the garage door entry and let's himself in with his key.

"Is that you, Javi?" you call out from the bedroom.

"Yeah," he calls back before coughing, clearing his throat and absently twirling the keys in his hand while already striding through the laundry room, tugging the knot loose on his necktie as he treks across the living room.

When he comes into his bedroom, he finds you in semi-undress.

You'd just been stripping your blouse when you heard him come in, having fussed with rolling the portable TV out of the way to be tucked into the recessed corner by the window on your side of the bed. And now you were shedding the sateen tank underneath to place it onto the dry-cleaning pile just when Javier walked in, so you were in just your white lace bra, navy blue trousers and kitten heels.

"Hey," you greet as you flounce over and kiss him hello.

He smiles and tows you closer when you attempt to waltz off to the laundry basket sitting on the bed. "When you get home, hm?"

Smirking, you loop your hands around his nape and slink up against him, smelling the cologne on his skin and the sweet smell of the nicotine gum on his breath. "Not long ago. Like ten minutes or so?"

"And you're already doing busy work," he points out amusedly, before nuzzling your jaw.

"No, I just took out the load that was left in the dryer from last night," you reply while trying not to swoon at his lips grazing down your neck. "I-I forgot to take the dry-cleaning to get dropped off, so I was pulling them together—"

"Leave it. We're having a lazy weekend now, remember?" is his honeyed baritone rumble before he kisses a path back up your neck, leaving ticklish goosebumps thanks to his moustache in his wake.

"I do, b-but I just wanted to tidy up before I started dinner," you sigh dreamily as you practically melt in his arms from how he suckles that erogenous pulse point just below your jaw.

"Let's go out for dinner," he suggests in a low baritone that makes your toes curl. "Mmm, we had these great Cuban sandwiches for lunch from a place on the Roosevelt. You in the mood for anything specific?"

You know he's buttering you up with sexy kisses and caresses, so you nudge your temple against his cheek in a playful show of dominance before encircling his waist and leaning into him. "I could go for Cuban, actually. It's been a while since I've had congrí," you purr before pulling away to coquettishly finish stripping out of your work clothes, adding over your shoulder, "I'll put something on and we can go to a place I know."

Grunting in agreement, Javi leers as you slip your heels off before shimmying out of the fitted trousers while he distractedly empties out his pockets and sets his keys on the dresser. He ogles your bare skin while shedding his blazer, fantasizing of all the things he'd love to do to you after stripping you out of your undergarments.

Picking out a pretty yellow gingham dress from the closet, quickly pulling it on and fastening the front buttons, you slip on the closest pair of open toe leather sandals you have before snickering knowingly over your shoulder, "You better hop to it, guapetón."

He snorts and picks up the pace of changing out of his work clothes, smirking when you breeze by him and pat his tush on the way to the bathroom to brush out your hair.

Soon, you're both walking down the driveway to your car, getting in and backing out onto the street. As you drive, he asks you about your day, and you tell him about the proposed gala, unaware he's paying attention to how the vehicle handles to see if he can gauge any issues with it. When you're pulling into the parking lot tucked behind the Cuban cuisine establishment on the corner of the intersection across from the city park a short while later, he's weighing his options whether to just come out and ask you about it.

But then he admonishes himself for worrying to begin with, so he reconsiders asking, for the time being.

After you've parked, Javi rounds to your side to open your door and help you out, which you still find charming and chivalrous. And with his hand to the small of your back, he escorts you around to the front entrance and takes your lead when the hostess greets you and you ask to sit on the outside terrace.

Once seated, Javi admires the pretty hanging flower pots and decorative planters that keep the terrace cozy and cool under the early twilight. Across the way is a grassy lot that looked like was used during the day for a food truck spot, and there were a few stray cats hanging out in the shade of the building.

You strategically sit adjacent Javi instead of across from him so you could lean over and reach him easily for kisses, which he's more than content to shower you with. When your waiter takes your orders and returns shortly with your drinks, you take a nice long sip from yours.

Smirking, Javi croons, "I guess there's no better place to get a Cuba Libre than at an authentic Cuban spot, hm?"

Sighing contentedly, you nod and simper, "That is correct, agente."

He chuckles and sips his own whiskey while reaching under the table to affectionately squeeze your knee. "So, besides helping organize the feds to get in on another ritzy party, how else did the rest of your day go?" is his quipping question.

Scoffing, you sneer goofily, "Hey! I did no such thing. And anyway, it's always good for the locals and the feds to find camaraderie somehow." At his wry grunt and lopsided smirk, you roll your eyes and yield, "And, any excuse for a party is something they tend to jump at here. But at least it was a decent distraction from the busy-work I did most of the day."

Swirling the amber liquid in his glass idly, Javi asks, "That upgrade program you were telling me about?"

"Yeah. All the leads had to do diagnostics of their designated sites. Going through it all to allocate the hours and funding for the upgrading has been a pain," you respond and brush the few stray strands that fluttered up across your cheek from the soft breeze wafting through the terrace. "Eventually, I'll have to make a trip out to St. Thomas to help the team lead there—"

You pause when the waiter returns with your meals, and you both thank him before you place your napkin in your lap and wish Javier a 'Buen Provecho' as you're eagerly taking a bite.

"Buen Provecho," he offers back before digging into his arroz con pollo and carne con papas. "So, you were saying something about a trip?"

"Ah, yes – to St. Thomas. Things have been so hectic I haven't had much time to plan for it," you reply smoothly before eating the tender sliver of pernil with gusto along with your forkful of rice.

"Speaking of hectic, Kike mentioned you had an issue with the car last week?" Javi remarks in a casual tone, knowing not to fish too obviously.

Internally groaning, you realize you should've expected the young officer to mention it to Javier, so you dramatically sigh as you admit, "Yes, I was driving to work after an early appointment in town and I hit the mother of all potholes after an intersection. I had just gotten the car serviced, remember? So it looks like they didn't tighten the bolts or something well enough on one of the tires and it went flying after hitting that pothole."

Javi balks, "Jesus Christ, what kind of a fuck-up was in charge and didn't check to make sure—"

Your hand clasps at his forearm reassuringly as you rush out before he can get worked up, "Mistakes happen. I'm just glad it was fixable and no one got hurt. Don't get all ornery about it, babe."

He huffs out of his nose and scowls, but at your irreverent look and patting of his forearm for him to loosen up, he grunts laconically, "You didn't mention it."

"Javier, you were busy! I didn't want to tell you while you were away. You were stressed out enough, so I didn't want that looming in the back of your mind, making you worry when there wasn't anything you could do anyway," you insist, adding, "And with everything going on this week, it kind of fell off the list of things that were front of mind."

Knowing you had a point, he relents with a nod, "You're right," and continues eating.

You enjoy the validation of being told you're right by your typically stubborn lover, so you smile around your next bite.

"How's the field office coming along?" you ask him after you've sipped your drink.

"It's finally up, and all the field agents are working out of there now. We got Segarra posted there. Steve and me will rotate being there and at our clerical office in the Federal building," he explains before taking another healthy forkful into his mouth.

"Good. And did CBP help you guys with what you needed?" is your next query as you scoop your next bite of congrí up.

"…We got some leads, but I honestly don't know if it'll amount to much. I just have this inkling that no one is really close to cracking things at all. Just treading water," he answers you candidly, giving you a one-shouldered shrug as he adds, "But then I'm used to having a clear target, and that's not how things are here, so far."

You hum at that as you chew. Once you've swallowed, you dab your lips before remarking, "Well, I'm selfishly glad you're not going to be personally in the field anymore, and that you and Steve have a team down here that is capable of all that—"

"I wasn't in the field during the Cali case," he muses, and at your sarcastic stare, he modifies, "Not as much as I'd been on previous cases, anyway."

"Javi, are you trying to forewarn me here that you're going to go on raids and extract informants personally again?" you imperiously deride as you cross your arms and lean back in your chair, gaze sharpening on his expression.

"No, I was just clarifying that I wasn't in the field much during Cali, is all. And I don't plan on being in the field at all this time around," he assures as smoothly as possible, and at your unconvinced stare, he takes your hand and squeezes it. "It's different this time, querida. The way we're structured down here? I have plenty of senior agents who know what they're doing, and all I gotta do is help cut through red tape, schmooze the local government, and coordinate the inter-agency ops, when needed," is his confident reassurance, adding sardonically, "Plus, I'm too old for chasing fuckers across rooftops and down balconies. I'm more than content to oversee the investigation and make decisions over being in the field."

Your eyes twinkle in the waning daylight as you tilt your face towards him with a coy smile. "Are you sure?" you find yourself asking, and at Javi's curious look, you give his fingers a squeeze before folding your hands into your lap, wringing them together as you're elaborating, "I've been thinking about it. You always preferred to be out front. Sitting back and relaxing in your position of authority drove you stir-crazy. I—I guess I'm just worried that you won't be able to keep yourself from getting invested. No matter how much you don't plan to or even want to."

His features etch soberly at your words. Leaning forward, he murmurs, "I meant what I said, mi amor. All the chasing – the frantic hunting for pinche asesinos is over for me. I always felt like it would only count if I was the one to nail them, but what you said? About things not going down the way I dictate or believe they should? It stuck with me, for a long time. I realized my priorities were, well, fucked up."

Surprised to hear this, you ask, "What do you mean?"

With a cleansing breath, he utters his answer with unwavering certainty.

"I wanted my life – what I did with it – to matter, and getting justice consumed all my priorities. But it wasn't until I brought it all down and ended up feeling no different – that nothing had changed but me, that I realized I had it all wrong and had lost myself to it. I don't ever want to end up there again."

He finds it liberating when it comes out of his mouth. It was a burden he didn't know he was holding onto until it was said.

"Oh, Javi," you murmur and lean close to brush your hand lovingly over his cheek. His dark, soulful eyes are gentle, and your heart aches as you whisper, "I'm sorry for ever making you doubt yourself—"

Javi gathers your hand in both of his and tells you decisively, "You didn't, cariño. What you said was a wakeup call. You made me doubt what I was doing, and why. Having to sit with that and work through it was something I'd avoided. But once I did, I realized what mattered to me was making a life, and doing the best I can to make it a good one I can be proud of."

Your features blossom into open admiration, making it easy for him to cup your cheek and brush a covetous kiss to your lips before he stares into your eyes and declares, "I want to make a life with you. And that matters to me more than anything else."

The emotion that wells up in your chest at his words steals your breath, making you want to express it the only way you can.

You scootch out of your seat so you can kiss Javier passionately before hugging him tight.

He pulls you to sit on his thigh so he can easily hold you to him, feeling relief and pride radiate through him as you nuzzle his neck. His hand cradles the back of your neck when lean back to gaze lovingly at him, and his heart skips when your eyes shine with devotion at him. Then, as if the world around you came back into focus, you girlishly slink back into your chair when you remember yourself and your surroundings.

With a sweet smile, he winks at your sheepish exhale when another dining group comes onto the terrace to sit at a larger table across from where you're both sat close to the veranda.

There was so much spinning up excitedly in your heart at his words, leaving your thoughts skipping along scenarios you both still needed to discuss and plan for, expectations you had yet to share, and desires unstated between you both. Just as you feel unsettled by thought of, What kind of life will he want to make together? You jolt at the sensation of something butting against your ankle.

You look down and realize one of the cats has come onto the terrace and is begging for food.

Javi watches you smile, then covertly glance around before shredding the rest of the roasted meat on your plate and piling the minced morsels on the floor for it.

"Come, gatito," you whisper to the orange cat, and watch it do just that, eagerly gobbling up the meat before scampering off back to its shady area on the other side of the veranda.

"That reminds me. You didn't get an annoying cat down here. How come?" is Javier's irreverent query as he nurses his drink.

Idly wiping your fingertips on your napkin, you tilt your head drolly at him as you retort, "My landlady didn't allow pets. And I didn't think it would be fair to have a cat, with how much I'd be working and traveling."

He hums, tempted to remark, 'Well when we move in together, it'll be a place we can have an inside-outside cat,' but decides against it. Instead, he muses, "Olivia has been trying to wear Steve down about getting a puppy. She didn't get one for Christmas, and got Isabel as a sister instead."

You laugh, delighted by the anecdote, and fall into banter about your now-comingled group of friends.

After sharing a flan de queso for dessert, Javier pays the tab and escorts you to the parking lot, holding your hand as you cross towards the car. He opens the passenger door for you, and you amusedly hand him your keys when he gets in on the driver's side. As he navigates out to the main intersection en route for home, you fiddle with the radio before setting it on the Magic 97.3 station, and smile as the late 80's single plays.

Snickering, he steers the wheel with one hand while he props the other behind your head rest. "We gotta go out dancing soon. When're you gonna show me the nightlife scene here, eh, dancing queen?" is his playful croon, winking at you when you give him a coquettish smirk.

"Well, that gala sounds like it'll have music and dancing. And if that's not enough, I'm up for dancing anything you want, anywhere," you flirt right back.

Pursing his full lips intriguingly, he drawls, "Square dancing?"

You snort, comically rolling your eyes as you lilt, "Ok, fine, maybe not anything. But salsa, merengue, bachata, cumbia, vallenato—"

"Lambada, perreo," he continues impishly, giving you that teasing, smoldering glance before bouncing his eyebrows suggestively.

You snicker and squeeze his jean-clad thigh, razzing, "Alright, fresco. Whatever one you're up for, I'll gladly be your dance partner."

"Good. But tonight? We're rollin' around the sheets," he cockily declares, grinning when you girlishly laugh.

You're gleeful that he's true to his word once you both get home.

It's actually a breezy night out, so you're happily cranking the bedroom windows all the way open when Javi walks in from locking up. He surprises you when you turn back from slipping off your sandals into the closet and are unfastening the first three buttons of your dress.

Encircling your waist, he holds you close while taking over unbuttoning your dress open for you while rocking you in a slow waltz-like sway. Titillated, you lean into his broad frame and nuzzle his jaw, caressing your hands up his back and smiling into his yearning kiss.

Your soft perfume and warm skin have a shiver skittering through him as you let his hands maneuver the dress off your torso and pool at your feet while his mouth sets a worshipful path along your flushing features and jaw. Sighing wistfully, you bury your fingers in the back of his hair when he trails his lips covetously down the column of your neck while his hands unclasp your bra.

"Mmm, you need to strip too, you know," you dreamily chime when you shed your bra and tug naughtily on the front of his caramel-colored button down before plucking the first few buttons open.

Scoffing ruggedly, he showily kicks his boots off and unbuckles his belt while giving you a molten look. "I'm trying to pace myself," is his husky murmur as he pauses in unzipping his jeans to let you tug his shirt's hem loose and resume unbuttoning it for him.

"No one told you to pace yourself, chulito," you tease in a sultry purr as you push his shirt off of his shoulders and pluck his jeans open before unzipping his fly.

It turns him on the way you sensually stare up at him through your lashes while shoving his jeans down before kissing along his bare chest.

Making short work of kicking them off his legs, Javier whisks you up against him and takes you to bed, where you both peel the clothes left between you off and amorously kiss and caress each other until you're salaciously fooling around.

The ceiling fan undulates the cool air over your heated forms as Javi rolls you under him while you cling to his body and giggle effervescently from his mustachioed kisses to your collar while he fidgets from your ticklish touch along his sides.

You're both content to canoodle and tease each other with nuzzles and caresses while your hips carve into each other, prolonging the delicious foreplay out while making desire stoke swelteringly where his arousal and yours press up.

Rolling to straddle him, you lusciously capture his lips with yours while gliding your palm to grind the underside of his cock along the silken heat of your cunt, relishing his groan and how his grip on your hips becomes possessive.

Breaking the kiss and nudging your nose into his cheek to get his obedience, you alluring whisper, "All I've wanted all day, is to make love with you, hermoso."

The lust in his dark eyes is scintillating as he husks, "Yeah?"

Humming sexily, you kiss him before susurrating against his panting lips, "Yes."

Javier rolls so you're on your back and he can nestle his ramrod erection into your clenching heat after hiking your leg over his hip just as he rocks forward.

You moan and arch up into him, and end up snickering breathlessly when he swears huffily, "Mmph, love, not fucking."

"It's really sexy that you know the difference, bebito," is your cheeky lilt when he clearly is trying to rein in his lascivious libido. At his haughty stare, you simper, "It is!"

Huffing amusedly out of his nose and shaking his head, Javi cracks a lopsided smile before sighing hoarsely, "Luckily for you, I've wanted to love you up all day too," as he shifts so you're both lying on your sides, facing each other while he's still inside you.

Your smile is radiant when he works his hips in that exquisitely ruinous undulation that lights you up with pleasure, leading into the passionate kisses and salacious clutching of your bodies as ecstasy pulses through your center while he groans sweet filth and earns your breathy praise and supplications for more.

And when he seats the pad of his thumb against the hood of your clit and grinds delectable pressure into it while stroking his throbbing cock deep inside your sheath, you cry out a rapturous sound and dig your fingertips into his lats, toes curling in bliss as you reach climax. Javi prolongs it by swirling circles over your pleasure point while thrusting at that angle that has him brushing against the bundle of nerves nestled where you can't reach, relishing your whimpers and mewls as you dissolve under him.

He nudges a gloating kiss into your cheek and keeps nuzzling you impishly when you sigh and smile dazedly at him before petting his brow and cupping the side of his neck lovingly as you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him down to meet your insatiable kiss.

Shifting you both so he's on his back, you take the reins of the lovemaking by grinding down on his cock and clenching your floor muscles around it while showering kisses along his cheeks, brow, jaw and neck. Your hands are braced to his chest, keeping him pinned to lie back and let you untangle the lascivious urge loose from his core as you ride him the way he loves. The sexy sight of you – skin dewy and warm, breasts bouncing from how hard and fast you're fucking yourself on him, features rapt with ecstasy while your gaze remains fixed on his – is the thing of Javi's dreams, and when your mouth falls open on a whine of his name, it's what sears him through with his release.

His gruff moan catches in his chest when you mewl and curl into him, reaching bliss and writhing in the throes of sensational gratification together.

The enchanting glee of being ravished and full hits you like a wave as the post coital haze buzzes through you. It isn't until you've melted back into yourself that you realize Javi has rolled you onto your back and is pulling out of your tingling heat.

Quivering, you whine for him to stay in bed, thinking he's going to go retrieve a washcloth. Instead, Javi hushes you with a possessive kiss that has his tongue marking its territory in your mouth before he maps a salacious path with it down your neck, the valley of your breasts, the line of your stomach and the crest of your sex.

With the flat of his tongue, he gives you gentle aftercare, careful not to lick or nuzzle your tender pussy too eagerly that would overstimulate and hurt you.

"Oh, Javi…" you hiccup airily before shivering from him blowing cool air over your scorching center before he hums and brushes a soft kiss to your womb.

His eyes gleam with contentment when he stares down at you, so you reach for him and lure him to lie on top of you, held in your arms.

Javi feels serenity fill him as your hand brushes over his hair while he rests his head on your chest, content to stay like this with you forever, if it were possible.

You feel him relax in your embrace and let out a sated exhale, the warmth of his breath puffing against your breast seeming to be a tired one, so you don't expect him to mumble in a honeyed purr, "Te quiero, mi amor."

Feeling elated, you continue to run your fingers through his hair soothingly as you whisper, "Te amo con todo mi corazón, Javier."

It's the greatest way to fall asleep – being told you love him with all your heart, while held in your arms.

So much so, Javi sleeps soundly through the night, and would've slept long into the late morning if not for the sound of loud revving of a car engine out on the street in front of the house.

Startling awake, Javi shifts up in bed and finds he's alone. Concerned, he clambers out from the rumpled covers and retrieves a pair of sweatpants from the dresser before hastily yanking them on.

"¿Querida?" he calls out as he peeks into the bathroom and finds it empty before walking out through the hallway door towards the main living space.

As he approaches the laundry room's entry, he realizes the loud car engine is coming from a vehicle idling in front of his driveway, so he goes out to see what's going on – and finds a mint-blue Bronco beach cruiser parked at the curb, with you in the driver's seat.

You beep the horn with a spritely smile before sitting up on your knees in the seat so you can shout, "Ready for a beach day, stud?"

Incredulous, he pads over barefoot down the cement drive to the sidewalk when you shut the engine off and retrieve shopping bags from the backseat. He sees you're wearing a halter top-styled peach cover-up dress and watermelon-colored two-piece bikini underneath it.

"Where'd you get this from?" he asks, holding the car door open for you so you can hop out with the bags.

"I rented it," you declare brightly before handing him the bags. "Now, these are for you, so go inside and change," is your wily command before cupping his cheek and kissing his stupefied expression off his handsome face.

Pinching his waist affectionately, you nudge Javi along back up the driveway and into the house while he peeks into the shopping bags and finds several swim trunks, flip flops, and beach shirts – all of which looked like would fit him perfectly.

"What the—I thought you wanted to spend a lazy weekend in?" Javi chuckles as you both make it into the living room.

"Well, I woke up early, and watched the news while I folded the laundry, and they said it's supposed to be a balmy, sunny day," you retort as you follow him into the bedroom, adding, "So I thought it'd be a good excuse to go for a nice seashore excursion. I can't believe you didn't have any bathing suits!"

He laughs, then coughs before answering, "I probably haven't worn one since swim team in high school, guapita."

"Alright, pick one, put it on, and let's go!" is your wily exclamation as you change your own sandals for white hibiscus-patterned flip flops you pulled from the bag.

A short while later and Javier is locking up the door before following you to the beach cruiser, rounding it to get in on the passenger's side after your climb into the driver's seat.

"—Do we need to stop anywhere?" he's asking as you turn the car on. "Any beach snacks? Towels?"

"Ah, I got a cooler filled up already, and I thought we could stop at kioskos for snacks while on the way," you tell him as you reach into the space behind your seat and pull out the lovely beach tote Javier surprised you with. "And, I got the beach towels and necessities packed in here already. So, ready to head out?" is your spunky query, winking at him.

Sitting in the seat next to you, in the light blue beach shirt and navy swim shorts, Javi smirks proudly at your dazzling smile.

"Fuckin' A, I am, bravita. Lead the way."

It's been such a long time since you both spent the day out together, that you're each appreciating every single moment while on the road, at the kiosko pit stops, and even in the stop-and-go traffic on the beach route off of the highway. The sun is out, the breeze is cool, the radio plays the pop station crisply, and the frituras are delicious as you both cruise down the northeast coast of the island, all while you and Javi laugh and banter about.

The scenery becomes more and more lush, tropical, and rural the further you cruise towards the hidden gem of a beach you're telling Javi about, wind in your hair and excitement filling your eyes as you gush, "We're gonna have a bit of a trek on foot, but I promise it's going to be worth it."

"I trust you. I'm just surprised anything is secret, with tourism being as big as it is here," he remarks good-naturedly.

"Ah, true. But there are so many little nooks along the shoreline and people tend to go to the bigger, well-known beaches across the island. My father loved exploring secluded spots, and when I was little, he'd take us to the hidden beaches he'd found growing up," is your exuberant explanation as you pull off the rural backroad onto a rough-trodden path.

Javi is impressed with your knowledge and navigation skills as you steer the beach cruiser over the terrain until you hit a slight hill that flanks a thicket on one side and more lush trees on the other. Maneuvering the vehicle around so it's already pointing back the way you drove in from, you park and put the brake on before reaching in the backseat for the tote. While you do so, Javi gets out and goes to the trunk to grab the little red cooler.

"Ok, it's gonna be about a 10 minute walk this way," you're telling him after you get out of the car and round it to the lush tree line, smiling when Javi chivalrously takes your hand and helps you step around a mucky spot that's in the path.

"You know, this kind of reminds me of that time, in Cartagena," he rumbles ruggedly while you both walk side-by-side, holding hands through the hidden footpath.

"That was just as naughty as this. Even naughtier, even," you snicker and squeeze his hand goofily.

"Shit, is this illegal?" he laconically grumbles, quickly glancing around to see if there are any 'Do not trespass' signs around, posted somewhere amongst the foliage.

"There's no such thing as illegal access to a beach, silly," you tell him, and Javi is about to point out how that doesn't answer his question, when you quickly add, "It would only be illegal if this was a naval-restricted zone, and it isn't. It's naughty because we're going to have the beach all to ourselves, which feels kinda wrong."

Grunting, he rasps, "We could've gone to a regular beach, you know. I was only teasing about lounging on a secret playa just the two of us—"

"Hey, I promised you a seashore adventure, so quit being a modest suavón," you heckle irreverently and tug him along to follow you down a veer in the path.

He chuckles, and decides to do just that, and soon enough you're both stepping around some tall, thick-leafed, cactus-like bushes between a smattering of palm trees to emerge onto the secluded beach shore that looks out on a crescent-shaped cove of turquoise, rolling waves beyond the warm, tan sands. The breeze is placidly swaying the foliage and the cawing of birds in the sunny sky add to the picturesque ambiance of the water lapping up along the coastline.

"Holy shit," Javi gapes, in awe of the beautiful seaside oasis.

Exuberantly, you tug him by his hand along towards the nice spot on the soft tan sands of beach under a shady canopy of palms, telling him, "Watch your step."

Maneuvering over some fallen palm trunks and husks, you both make quick work of staking a favorable spot.

The beach blanket is a big square Javi pins from flopping in the breeze with the red cooler and your tote at the strategic corners, and once you've both gotten down to your swimsuits and folded your clothes to stay warm in the sunny corner of it, you pull out some towels and Javi unrolls them over the blanket while you rifle through the tote.

As you do so, you coquettishly cajole him into sitting with, "C'mon, we have to wait a while before swimming," smiling when he does so before casually reclining back with his arms propped backwards.

His broad shoulders are relaxed as he stares out at the tropical water, making for a delicious sight as you distractedly retrieve the sunscreen from your tote. This hunk is all mine.

With delight, you dutifully rub sunscreen into his shoulders and back, and intend to put the lotion on your own arms and shoulders when Javi plucks the bottle from your hand and has you crawl over to sit in front of him on the towel that he'd draped down for you.

"You know, I could get used to this," Javi muses as he massages the sunscreen into your back, mindful of the bikini straps in his way. When you hum curiously, he elaborates, "Enjoying the sun and sand, staring out at the waves, lounging around with you. Going on getaways together."

"Is that so?" you singsong as you turn and smile at him over your shoulder. At his cocky smirk, you turn completely around so you can lean forward and purr teasingly, "So my plan to romance you into loving island life is working, hm?"

The way the sun catches in his dark brown eyes have them shining like copper when he grins brilliantly and leans back on his elbows so you have to loom over him sexily. "As if it took any real effort. I really like it here, preciosa," is his debonair murmur as he reaches up to tuck some rogue strands of hair behind your ear. "And, I really like my view right now."

You prop your stance with your arms draping around his shoulders and lean closer so you can kiss him tenderly on the lips, before lilting, "Good. I want this to be a place that feels like home."

The way your eyes shone with dazzling delight while the sun's rays frame you, making him feel punch-drunk, bewitch him for a second, so he's disarmed when you suddenly ruffle his hair daringly before hopping up and running down to the shore while shouting over your shoulder, "Now come catch me if you can, special agent guapito!"

Scoffing comically, Javier scrambles up and runs over the hot sand to go in after you.

The afternoon is filled with you both swimming and splashing each other, goofing around and floating in the shallows while the waves lap warmly at the surface, and canoodling buoyantly while you cling to him as you chat and he treads water for you both.

Once you're each tuckered out by the waves, you'd headed back to the beach blanket, toweled off, and lounged together under the sun, laying over your towel while you let the warm rays dry you. He retrieves beverages from the cooler for you both to enjoy while relaxing on post-swim-tired muscles.

Javi's sipping from the ice-cold can of Medalla while you set your soda aside so you can untie the straps of your bikini top before laying out on your stomach.

Staring at the expanse of naked skin exposed to the hot sun now, Javi asks, "You want me to get your back?"

"No, that's ok. I just want to even out so I don't have tan lines," you reply as you fold your arms down and rest with your head pillowed by your pile of clothes.

He hums, and you feel him shift from the spot he'd been sat, before there's a light tug on the strings of one hip on your bikini bottoms. "You forgot about these tan lines," is his rugged drawl as he unties the other hip's strings.

You giggle before sitting up on your folded arms and sassily chastising, "Only you see those tan lines, fresco. So I wasn't planning on going Blue Lagoon out here—!"

"Never saw it," Javi drolly retorts, earning your comical scoff. He mischievously continues, "You said this is a secluded spot, so…" and deliberately tugs the undone bikini bottom off of you.

Laughing, you reply, "Well, the nearest community from here is over a mile away, and the fisherman don't tend to come this way," and roll sidelong to give him a sultry look as you tease, "You really never saw that movie?"

"No way," he snickers, fanning his fingers along the curve of your buttocks to brush off the sand sticking to your cheeks. At your amused, albeit dubious hum, Javier concedes, "My cousins did, though, and talked about how cheesy it was. And, it just seemed weird to have such a young girl prancing around naked like that in a movie."

"Ah, good point," you chime before going to stretch out onto your back, as if you're not completely nude and under the warm rays of the sun. With your eyes closed, you relax and let out a cleansing sigh.

Despite his coaxing, Javi looks around to make sure no one is peeping from the trees at you before asking, "What's the movie about, again?" and resumes drinking from his beer can as he shuffles towards your sunbathing form.

You're basking in the warm heat of the sun and the tranquil breeze as you sense his form sidle close to you.

"It's about two kids who get shipwrecked on a deserted island in the South Pacific during the Victorian era. They grow up together, hit puberty, and start fooling around—"

He watches your breath hitch when his fingertips cooled by the condensation of the beer can skim teasingly along your lithe belly to brush off some clinging sand grains from your skin. "Ah, ok yeah, I remember Carla joking about that," he remarks smoothly while trailing his touch in lazy circles up your midriff towards your breasts, skimming a path up the valley of your sternum before tracing them along your collarbones. "Don't they start fucking like animals in heat?"

It's taking everything in you to keep your eyes closed and not sit up and pounce on him right now, especially when his touch skims back down to map your left areola before he pinches your nipple. Biting back a gasp, you answer tightly, "Y-Yes, and then she gets pregnant but they don't know what's happening to her because they never got the birds and the bees talk."

With an intrigued hum, Javi admires your naked form, relishing how it looks under a sunny sky. The way your nipples hardened even with the heat of the sun keeping your skin warm and dewy. How your tummy tensed with excitement at his touch. You clench your thighs together now, and it draws his gaze to the chalice of your pelvis and the soft curls at your mound, so he swipes more condensation from his can onto his fingers and guides his cooled digits to trace at the heat between your thighs.

Your eyes open as you stifle a mewl and blush furiously under his handsome stare. "Does it have a happy ending?" is his cool query, while his fingers rub delicious pleasure into your now throbbing clitoris, making your cunt drip with need.

Not trusting your voice, you nod and bite your bottom lip as to not whimper too loudly, one hand gripping the towel underneath you while the other clutches at his elbow.

"Maybe we can find a deserted island and spend all our time fooling around," is his canela-roughened rumble in your ear as his fingers work to get you off.

Arching, your thighs clamp around his hand when you orgasm, hearty cry of, 'Javi!' getting muffled against the back of your palm while Javi watches you ride out the waves of pleasure, feeling content and accomplished.

The tingly bliss that settles in as you lay sated and naked under the sunshine fills you with splendor, making you sigh and stare up dreamily at Javier while he licks his fingers clean of your climax before using the edge of the towel to give you aftercare.

Pleased with himself, Javi was about to pick up his can to finish the beer, when you surprise him by taking it from him, draining it with one long drink, and then setting it aside before nudging him to lean back so you can straddle his hips as you slip your hands down the front of his swim trunks.

His erection is thick and throbbing in your palms, and Javi swears hotly before gripping your waist and hitching gruffly with warning, "Q-Querida, we shouldn't—"

"Shh, lay back and let me make love to you, sweet boy," you purr sensually at him before nuzzling his cheek and capturing his lips with yours.

Savage pride flares up in him at your words, so he obeys and lets you push his swim trunks down to free his rock-hard cock, and keeps his hands on your waist while you plunge yourself down on it with slow undulations that have your sheath squeezing and gripping around his length.

Truthfully, if anyone had come upon you and spied from the tree lines, neither of you would've noticed. Not with how fixated on each other's pleasure you both were.

It feels surreal. Being outside, under a tropical sky, the scent of salt, sunscreen, sweat and the heat of the sun above and the sand beneath the blanket mingled with the cool air from the sea and the sounds of untouched nature mixing with your comingled cries of pleasure. It's all a sensory overload. And the sight of you in your naked glory, rocking up and down on his throbbing arousal, is enthralling. You are intent on giving into the need you feel burning under his skin – in the desperate grip of his hands as they clutch your curves with every buck and roll of your hips over him.

Having this little moment of paradise with each other only stokes the blazing desire to quickly sweep up between you, and you can feel Javi's muscles begin to tense under your palms – see how lustrous and dark his eyes have gone with lust.

So, you mewl, "Dámelo, mi amor," as you start to ride him hard, the way you know drives him wild. "I want it, Javi—"

The world spins when Javi sits up and rolls so you're on your back while he looms over you and seats his thumb over the hood of your clit, grinding the thrumming pleasure point deftly and getting you there with him just as his cock starts to swell inside of you.

Your cry of ecstasy is pitched and airy as you come, walls fluttering around him just as he feels the tether of pleasure snap loose in his center. Rapt with delirious bliss, you watch Javi pull out of your drenched heat and stroke himself off to spill his release over your womb and taut tummy as he groans hoarsely from the dizzying effort of staying propped above you while his senses buzz.

When he curls down to sidle next to you with a husky, "Oh fuck," between panting breaths, you smile and cuddle close. "That…that was fucking hot, querida."

Letting out a pleased grunt, you absently trail your fingertips in the pearly essence he left on your skin, before lulling your head to nose into his neck and tut, "It's a naughty getaway. Of course it'd be hot, chulito."

He snorts at that and kisses on you dotingly before shimmying his trunks back up and using the damp towel he'd dried off with earlier to wipe up his cum, then swiping the terrycloth material between your thighs gingerly. You gorgeously smile up at him from heavy-lidded eyes and blushed features as he tends to you, so he kisses your cheek and whispers tenderly, "Wanna lounge for a bit?"

You nod, close your eyes and sigh whimsically, completely uncaring that you're still in the nude. Javi gives a cautionary glance around before laying on his side in a strategic way that allows his broad frame to keep you blocked from view before he stretches out next to you and rests his head on his folded arm.

Thanks to the sun moving in the sky, you both end up napping in the heat-kissed shade, lulled into relaxation by the sound of the waves and the rustling of the palms from the tropical breeze.

When he wakes a short while later, he ends up appreciatively staring at your placid expression. He wishes he could take a picture, and snickers at the thought of your appalled reaction of being snapped in the nude like this.

Your skin is warm as he drapes a towel over your form, which stirs you awake. And when you stare up at him with a sleepy smile, he leans down and kisses you tenderly on the lips before helping you sit up to cuddle into his side as you get your bearings.

Seeing the sun beginning to wane towards the horizon, you both decide to throw your clothes back on and pack up everything so you can make the trek back along the path to the car while it's still light out. You're both pleasantly tan and content as you walk through the lush greenery, and once you're back at the beach cruiser, Javi stores the cooler in the trunk and helps you climb up into the driver's seat before getting in on the passenger's side.

It feels wonderfully surreal that you got to spend the day with him like this, and the giddy contentment of it flutters up from your tummy as you drive and banter in flirty repartee – with every smile and laugh he lets loose.

After getting back to the metropolitan area, you drive to the rental shop, drop off the beach cruiser and get everything into your sedan before Javi chivalrously offers to drive you both home.

The sunset has already come and gone by the time he's pulling up into his driveway and parking behind his car.

Once you've both exited and tend to the beach items in your care, Javi stretches his back as he remarks, "Shit, I am beat."

"It was all the swimming against the waves," you reply while pulling out the blanket from the beach to shake it loose of any sand over the grassy side lot of the fenced in yard from the inside of the marquesina.

With the cooler in his hand, Javi shuts the trunk and rounds the car to walk up to the interior of the garage as you continue shaking out the towels of sand before following him up once he's unlocked the door.

Smugly, he drawls, "That, and all the sun. Not to mention the hot little number—"

His charming gloat becomes a grunt when you pat his tush for him to quit talking filth so you can take your tired self and mosey into the house.

"I'm going to run everything in the wash, so make sure to drop your trunks in too," you tell him with the blanket bundled in your arm and the beach tote on your shoulder, spritely look in your eyes teasing.

"Alright. I'll do that after I dump the ice out of this," is his baritone rumble as he holds the door open for you.

"Ok. I'll run the shower too once I'm done, if you wanna join?" is your flirty invitation as you prep the washer with everything from the beach day.

"Like you need to ask," he chuckles, pinching your side affectionately before loping down the hall towards the kitchen.

Smiling, you quickly set the machine on its cycle before retrieving your other belongings from the tote and taking it down to the bedroom. Once you've slipped them back into your purse and stored the beach tote on a shelf in the closet, you head to the bathroom to run the shower.

You'd just finished getting the eucalyptus stems down from the shower head to be set aside on the vanity, then started reaching behind yourself to undo the halter drawstring of your dress when you feel Javier come up behind you and caress his touch up your bare back before pulling the fastening loose for you.

His lips graze a teasing path from the back of your shoulder up the slope of your neck as he works the dress down your body to pool at your feet, earning a breathy giggle and for you to take his hands and loop his embrace around your waist.

It's then when he presses flush against you from behind that you feel he's already naked, so you snicker, "Did you strut in the buff through the house?"

"You said to put my swimsuit in the wash, mandona," he purrs puckishly into your ear as he starts herding you towards the shower stall. "C'mon, let's get the saltwater out of our hair."

You merrily oblige your brazen hunk, and soon are under the hot cascade, rinsing the soap and suds from your hair while Javi works his fingers through your waterlogged tresses for you.

"Mmm, your turn," is your blithe sigh as you turn and maneuver around him so he's facing the showerhead. His chuckle is warm as you lather the shampoo into his hair, so you deride, "What's so funny, chavón?"

"I just pictured how silly we probably look right now. With you on your tippy toes, washing my hair for me," is his humored retort, and he makes his point by standing on tiptoe so you have a hard time reaching the crown of his soapy curls.

Scoffing, you playfully swat his bicep and grunt for him to stop being silly. "Pórtate bien, fresco. Or else you're getting a spankin' before bedtime," is your saucy threat.

With an amused snort, he resumes letting you wash his hair, and ends up smirking into the showerhead's spray after you daringly nudge his head into the cascade.

Not to be outdone, Javi shifts carefully around and shakes the excess water logged in his thick hair to splash about, wetting your face and earning a squeal of laughter from you as you try to pinch his sides for him to stop.

"You dork!"

"You missed some suds, baby."

"You're incorrigible!"

"You love it, bravita."

With a haughty huff, you roll your eyes and slick his hair back from his forehead before pouting goofily and conceding, "Dammit, I do."

His laugh fills your chest with joy and makes you wrap your arms around his shoulders so you can kiss his cheek and nuzzle his jaw cutely.

He lets you put conditioner in his hair, but while you slather some into your own, he tries to stifle a yawn as he soaps himself up.

"Alright. My hair's gonna take a while, so you finish up and get the room ready for bed?" you suggest as you dutifully maneuver around again so he can face the cascade.

"Yes, patrona," is his crooning musing as he turns so the water can rain down on the crown of his head before washing down his shoulders and back. "Air on tonight?"

"Yeah," you retort and smile when he slicks the water back from his hair and cups your side so he can lean down and kiss your lips before shimmying by you to open the glass stall door.

"I'll lock up the house too," he remarks as he towels dry before wrapping the fluffy terrycloth around his waist and exiting through the bedroom door of the bathroom.

You're smitten as you luxuriate in the shower for a little longer, and after getting out and combing your hair, you day dream about all the fun spent at the beach with Javi. By the time you're finished blow drying your luscious hair, you are fantasizing about more little getaways with Javi. Driving up to el campo and having a picnic? Would he want to chinchorrear down to the western coast? Oh, maybe we could stay at a bed and breakfast on the beach in the south?

Whimsically thinking of all the possibilities, you hang up your towel and go into the bedroom, expecting to find Javier with a whiskey, lounging in bed while watching the evening news.

Instead, you find him passed out in bed, lying on his back with one arm draped over his stomach – TV remote in hand – and the other jammed behind the pillows his head was propped up against. He didn't even bother with boxers or sleep bottoms, instead looking like he sprawled out on the bed in his birthday suit and tossed the comforter over his lap before exhaustion took a hold of him. The air conditioner's ambient hum and the undulating current of cooled air clearly lulled him to sleep, and you can't help fawn at how peaceful he is in his well-earned slumber, albeit snoring with his mouth open.

You turn off the light of the bathroom before shutting the door and tiptoeing soundlessly to your side of the bed, where he'd left the lamplight on and had a nice glass of water waiting for you.

It makes your heart summersault in your chest. God, I love this man so much.

Slinking into bed with him, you turn off the lamp, gently grab the remote, and shut the TV before pulling the comforter up to cover you both.

With your head resting on his chest, you cuddle into him and melt when he shifts in his sleep so he can wrap his arm around your back and nuzzle the top of your hair. It feels like sheer bliss fills you up, and it's easy for you to relax and fall asleep, heart feeling full and settled.

You both spend Sunday in bed, with meals shared over the covers breaking up the moments of carnal delight underneath the covers.

By the time the work week begins, you're both refreshed, albeit suntanned, when you return to your hectic schedules.

Javier gets razzed by Steve for looking like he spent the weekend 'canoodling under the sun' with you, and he tells you about it while he makes dinner later that night.

Once midweek comes around, you're telling Javi about the barbecue plans for Saturday, and he passes it along to Steve the following morning while they're walking back to their office. Since work travel was over for the next few weeks, and everyone was finally recovered from the flu, you, Anita and Connie had agreed that it seemed like the perfect time to all get together and socialize around a grill in a shady backyard, with drinks and delicious dishes.

"That'll be nice. I'll get Connie to make her famous mac n'cheese, and I got my mom's succotash recipe," Steve volunteered to Javier, looking forward to unwinding over good food and drinks with Connie and other adults without chatter about work or reruns of Barney the Dinosaur for a change.

Making it to the end of the busy week, you don't even realize you've put all previous worries and stresses out of your mind completely. Instead, you're looking forward to asking Javi if he got the email invitation to the gala you'd mentioned the week prior.

After you both get home to his place, you go to his bedroom to get out of your work outfit while you eagerly tell him about the details for the ritzy shindig.

"—Oh, I don't use that thing. I have my admin or Segarra review messages and let me know."

"Ugh, really? You have a state-of-the-art laptop, Javier. Don't tell me you're gonna keep dodging using it—"

"Maybe I'd bother with it, after some tutoring from the sexy director who makes it look oh-so-easy to use—"

Exhaling dramatically to keep from laughing while you're unbuttoning your blouse, you prod, "So? Does that mean you weren't informed of the gala's details?"

Rolling up his shirt sleeves before plunking himself down on the bed, he knowingly asks, "You really wanna go to that?"

Pausing in undressing the rest of your work ensemble off, you frown. "You don't want to?"

"Oh, I do. I'm just surprised you want to go together. Making it public and all," is his smartass, albeit goading purr as he reclines on the bed with his hands folded behind his head. "We haven't told Mercer—"

Deciding two can play this instigating game, you scathe smoothly, "We haven't had a chance to, seeing as you're the one that's been busy and traveling."

Javi's lips snap shut into a pout, brows knitting together peevishly, because you are absolutely right.

"And anyway…we don't need his permission or blessing. Telling him would be a courtesy," you state charmingly as you finish stripping out of your fitted slacks, tossing them aside in the hamper with your matching blouse before going to the foot of the bed and crawling over to prowl towards him in only your black bra and panty set. His pout melts into that chiseled expression of want when you loom over him before plucking one of his shirt buttons undone as you chime, "That's if he hasn't heard any rumors already."

Humming, Javi sits up so he can tow you to lounge next to him as he pivots onto his hip.

You smirk coquettishly at him as he possessively caresses his hand along the curve of your derrière before grumbling, "The rumors from before, or are there ones about us being together now?"

"Well, definitely about us being secretly together back at the embassy. I'm actually not very sure if there are rumors about us being together currently," is your frank retort as you toy with undoing the rest of his shirt's buttons.

"I know one asshole who knows about us and doesn't care," Javi grouses in a surly tone, and at your curious hum, he huffs, "That Bozzi guy, the head of the FBI down here?"

Expecting you to tut and chastise him for being unjustifiably jealous, Javi's instead surprised when you scoff and ridicule, "Ugh, he is so insufferable! Is that why he's been laying it on so thick? Some macho bravado thing where he's trying to woo me or something?"

"…Wait. He's tried to flirt with you?" Javier growls, expression etching with aggravation.

You sigh, knowing he's going to get ornery now, but figure it was your own fault for even instigating the conversation. "Yes, but he's been overly friendly since I started working at the federal building," you tell him, seeing his nostrils flare crossly from his exhale as his temper starts to boil, so you quickly redirect, "Wait, how do you know he's onto us and doesn't care?"

Glowering, Javi admits, "That prick was overheard telling Vernon, from the ATF, that you'd caught his eye and he'd be trying to romance you. When Vernon told him you were already spoken for as far as he'd heard, Bozzi told him that there wasn't a ring on your finger so you were fair game…"

At hearing that, instead of being outraged, you burst into laughter. "What?! I'm "fair game"?! What a chauvinist," you heckle humorously and shake your head before noticing Javier's not amused. "Ay, Javi. You're really jealous over that fool?" is your sassy huff before you nudge his shoulder and bossily assure, "Quit being surly and listen! Now that I know he's flirting me up for sport and to be disrespectful of our relationship, I'll put him in his place the next time he tries to fish and banter."

Cracking a smile, Javi gruffly drawls, "It might be safer to just put a ring on your finger, guapita."

Mirthfully, you laugh – obviously not even reading much into the ring suggestion being anything more than repartee, and snicker with effervescent charm, "And miss out on the satisfaction of wiping that cocky smirk from his face?"

"I'd much rather be the one to do that, with my fist," he counters with a rugged baritone that makes a little thrill skitter up your spine, combined by his dark brewed eyes pinning you with a purposeful look. "Anyway…next time I'm in the federal building for the week, we'll go meet with Mercer."

Smiling, you fold your arms along his shoulders and lean into him as you purr, "Ok, gruñón. Sounds like a plan," before kissing him sultrily on the lips.

The next morning is spent running around doing errands before heading to your apartment after spending the whole week at Javier's. You both lug everything up from your carport spot and stop at the lobby so you can pick up any deliveries from your unit's mail slot, then head into the elevator together.

"—We don't have to spend the whole week at my place, babe. I just want to tend to things I neglected," you're telling him after the elevator doors open to your floor and you both exit with everything in hand.

"I'm fine with alternating. Plus with that gala at the end of next week, it'll be easier to go there from here," Javi is assuring as you unlock the door and enter your apartment.

You put the two grocery bags and stack of mail you were carrying onto the kitchen counter. "Yeah, it's going to be at El San Juan Hotel," you tell him as you start to put away the perishable items and leave out the ingredients for the food you'd be making to take over to the barbecue in the afternoon. Rounding the counter, you kick your shoes off next to the stool and pad barefoot over to play the messages left on your answering machine before going back to the kitchen to get the big pitcher you use to water your plants.

Javier dutifully carries the big bag of toiletries he bought at the grocery store so he didn't have to keep living out of his travel bag at your place, and lopes down the hall with it. His duffle is filled with new clothes to leave at your place in hung on his shoulder, and he's carefully carrying the dry-cleaning you picked up on the way over while balancing the shopping bag. He tosses the duffle onto the bed and shifts the bag in one arm as he's hanging the dry-cleaning up in the closet, all while listening to your answering machine play through the messages down the hall.

"—Mija, hope all is well. I should be home in a few weeks, but was hoping to check in and see how you're doing. Give me a call when you can," he hears your father's deep baritone voice echo from the living room, along with your musing sigh as you close the sliding door after watering your plants in order to go into the kitchen cabinet for the pots and pans that you'll need.

"You gonna call him back?" Javi calls out as he carries the bag into the bathroom in order to unpack the toiletries.

"When are you going to call your father, mister?" you razz right back, but he can hear the grin in your voice.

"Maybe tomorrow," Javi answers, smiling at your musing singsong of a hum as he opens the medicine cabinet and places his shaving cream, razor handle and replacement heads in, followed by his aftershave. "Probably call him in the evening, since he'll likely be coming back from Sunday dinner at my aunt's," is his remark as he continues storing his shampoo and soap on the rack in the shower stall, then goes to store his cologne and deodorant on the vanity before opening the small drawer next to the sink counter in order to place the set of clippers he'd bought to trim his moustache with, along with the second hair comb that came in the packaging with the main comb he'd just placed in the cylindrical holder with your hairbrush.

But then his attention pauses on the item that's already in the drawer, making all thoughts skid to a halt.

"That sounds nice. I might wait to call mine, though," you remark out loud after the answering machine starts playing the next message.

While it does so, and you listen to the caller hesitate before hanging up – which triggers you to remember the same thing had happened weeks ago, Javier is picking up the circular plastic case from the drawer before opening it to look at the birth control pill pack within.

His heart skips a beat and adrenaline races through his bloodstream at seeing the month supply of pills was intact, save for a week and two days' worth of pills missing; the plastic confines of which were popped empty. Javi wracks his brain, trying to remember the last time he saw you reach into your purse for your contraceptives, or whenever you'd taken one of the little rounded pills with a glass of water.

Dimly, he realizes that he cannot recall a single time seeing you take the pill since he'd been on the island.

"—Hola, nena. Call me when you get this. Rafa wants our help ring shopping for Naida! Let me know what day works for you. Llámame, bye!" Zoraida's voice chipperly directs from the answering machine, which makes you smile and disregard the message before it, and for you to ignore the telemarketer message that starts to play next while you start to prepare the dishes for the barbecue.

"Oh, I forgot to ask! Do you like your potato salad with mayonnaise, or without it?" you call out as you begin to peel the potatoes while the water pot heats on the burner.

Javier is so gob smacked by the discovery of the birth control case and his fruitless attempt to find a date or label that could answer when you stopped taking the pills that it takes his brain a moment to register your question.

"Uh, without! B-But, whatever you feel like making—"

"Ellis likes his with mayonnaise, so I'll just make two; one with, and one without," you assure as you run the sink tap to rinse the potatoes.

Javi nods vacantly, still staring at the birth control, as if the little, different shades of blue pills will reveal to him the answer. She hasn't been here in over a week, so at the very least…

He gulps, realizing that didn't mean you'd forgotten to take them. After all, you'd always kept the case in your purse. The fact it was in the sink vanity's drawer meant something very different.

"Did you find enough drawer space for your stuff?" your voice calls out from the kitchen, snapping Javier out of his ruminating to hurriedly return the birth control case back to the drawer and shut it soundlessly.

You do hear the sound of his footsteps moving in the back of the hall, as if from one room to another, so you deposit the potatoes in the boiling water before striding down to check on him.

"You need me to move anything?" is your query as you round into the doorway of your bedroom and find Javier sorting through his duffle, with a few items set into stacks on the bed already.

He clears his throat before replying, "No, no I think there's plenty of room still in the drawer."

Briskly walking towards your dresser, you open the top drawer and arrange a few items more neatly so there's more storage space. "Just go ahead and use any of the empty space in these to put your folded stuff, and leave any of your shirts on the chair so I can iron them later," is your jovial instruction as you grab a hair scrunchy and quickly twist your hair up into a bun so it's out of the way while you cook.

Javi grunts in acknowledgement and hurriedly dumps the rest of the items in his duffle onto the bed so he can duck out into the closet to store the bag before you turn and notice how addled he looks. "So what time are we going over?" he asks, weighing his options on whether to confront you about the birth control pills now, or later. Or should he bring it up at all? Should he wait for you to tell him what's going on?

"I figure as soon as the food is ready and I can pack it for the drive over? So, about an hour or so?" you reply as you go to open the windows in your bedroom to have the air flow increase and cool the space. "I just want to stop at Sweet Ann Cakes to pick up a tarta de frutas on the way. Oh! That reminds me, I have to call ahead for it," is your rushed remark as you run to grab the phone from the console in the living room and do just that.

Internally swearing, Javi decides he can't bring it up. Not before the barbecue. If at all today.

So, he stews about how to eventually broach the topic while he stores his clothes in the dresser, and his mind spins up with what ifs.

Maybe she's taking a different medication…Or she just takes it at a time I'm not around?

He gulps as the next thought barrels over them all.

What if she's just afraid to tell me…that because of everything that's happened between us, she's scared to tell me she's pregnant?

Just when he feels like he's going to gnaw a raw spot into the inside of his cheek from absently worrying it between his teeth, he hears your footfalls return from the hall.

"Oh, by the way, here."

Javi turns and is surprised to see a set of keys on a hibiscus-shaped keychain ring you hold up and dangle invitingly for him to take.

"Long overdue, especially since I got your house keys without your permission, technically," is your flirty musing, expression open and expectant for his wry comment.

That warm feeling that itches behind his breastbone has him proudly taking the keys before pulling you into his arms and kissing you amorously.

You kiss him with gusto before leaning back and snickering, "Mmm, quit wooing me! I got food on the stove," and affectionately squeezing his waist before rushing to sprint back down to the kitchen with, "Keep unpacking, guapetón."

He manages to keep his anxious thoughts guarded after that, easily maintaining them while you're busying yourself in the kitchen. Then, whilst he dutifully carries the packed dishes down to the car for you while you rush to finish getting ready, he focuses on feeling proud that you trust him enough to give him the keys to your place. It helps stopping his thoughts from getting preoccupied with the what ifs stampeding through his mind while he drives you to the cute artisanal bakery so you can hurry in and pick up the cake.

"Cooking three dishes should be more than enough for your barbecue contribution, no?" he can't help ask as you unfasten your seatbelt and shoulder your purse.

"It is, but I thought it'd be nice to have something for dessert," you chime lightly before leaning over the center console to kiss his cheek. "Be right back!"

He watches you stride up to the entrance, checking out your denim short-clad ass and the way your hair sways in the wind, black tunic top with red embroidery fluttering with your movements as you go into the shop, and he lets out the breath he didn't know he was holding.

You'd been looking forward to the gathering for weeks, and when you'd come down to the car in the flirty ensemble, wearing one of your favorite tunic tops? Happy and vibrantly chatting away? His stubborn will cemented his decision, so he internally insisted that he keep it all in check.

Fuck's sake. Do not ruin this day, you jackass.

The mantra is on loop in his head once you come back out with the cake, and the entire drive over to the suburban neighborhood Ellis and Anita live at.

It's a quiet suburb within walking distance of many of the parks in the area, and about twenty minutes west of Javier and Steve's gated neighborhood, and as you direct him down the avenue to turn into the main entrance, he wonders to himself if soon you'll both need to go house hunting for a bigger abode.

"There, that's their place. You can park right behind that car. That's Anita's, and I'm sure she's not going to be driving out," you point and tell him, balancing the boxed-up cake on your lap.

Doing as you directed, Javi quickly parks, turns the car off, and helps you retrieve the food from the backseat.

Anita's already opening the door and hustling out to help before you've both finished closing the car doors.

"Hey, guys! Hold on, let us help. Ellis! Come out and help with the food. Oh, is this the arroz con pollo?! I told you not to go through the trouble, Celina—!"

"Ah, stop. It's no trouble at all!" you convivially dismiss as you kiss her hello on the cheek.

"Score! You brought that delicious cake too?!" you hear Ellis cheer affably as he comes over and grabs one of the totes housing the two versions of potato salad before clapping Javier on the shoulder in greeting. "You spoil us."

"Nah, that's all her," Javi chuckles and nods towards you before kissing Anita hello on the cheek and grabbing the boxed cake from you chivalrously so he can carry it in for you.

You can't help check him out as he chats with Ellis and walks towards the entrance, loving how those blue 'fuck me' jeans sculpt to his ass and his long legs, and how the soft yellow button-down shirt clings to his broad shoulders while the sleeves hike up his muscular biceps.

Anita catches your eye and wiggles her brows knowingly at you, so you stifle a giggle and nudge her to walk ahead of you.

Once you're all inside the air-conditioned single-story home, Javier is offered a beer and ushered out to the back patio where the grill is and the adjacent sitting area where Anita's parents are. After you and Anita store the food to stay warm on the stove and put the cake box in the fridge, you go out and join the boys as Javier is politely shaking hands with Anita's folks.

After greeting them as well, you dramatically turn towards your friends. "And where is the cutie?" you inquire and make grabby hands, as if to say, 'I want to see the baby.'

"Oh, come inside. She's down for her nap," Anita cheerily replies and gestures for you and Javi to follow her. "Steve and Connie should be here soon with the kids. Do you think Olivia will like the swing set?"

"I guess we'll find out," Javi drawls irreverently as he puts his beer down on the patio table, cups your lower back and ushers you through the sliding door while you both follow your friend towards the side of the house with the bedrooms.

As you walk by a credenza that's against the wall across from the space between the living room and kitchen, you notice the big flower arrangement you'd let Ellis take for Valentine's was set behind some framed photos among the pretty artisan crafts from Colombia that decorated the table top.

"Wow, those flowers are pretty," you point out, admiring how many of the blooms from the original bouquet were still thriving.

"Aren't they so lovely!? Ellis surprised me with that arrangement for Valentine's Day," she practically swoons, smiling brightly as you expertly feign like it was the first time that you'd seen the lavish bouquet.

Javier realizes that is the arrangement that was sent to you anonymously at the office, and it makes his hackles rise, knowing someone was vying for your affection with such an ostentatious gift. But, before he can comment, he notices one of the picture frames houses a photo of you and another man, stood side-by-side under what looks like the crossing of a church – with the altar in the background, and an adorable looking baby dressed in white cradled in your arms.

"Who's that?" Javi finds himself asking as he points at the tall, dark-haired and blue-eyed attractive man.

Anita squints knowingly over at you while she answers, "Oh, that's Ellis' little brother, Trevor. He and Celina are Delilah's godparents."

"Hmph," Javi hums tactfully before grunting at your wry elbow to his side.

"No te pongas celoso, querido."

"He's got his arm around you, though."

"For the picture, obviously!"

Laughing, Anita assures, "Don't worry, Javi. Trevor was interested, but Celina turned him down—"

"Anita!" you exclaim admonishingly and scoff when she innocently shrugs.

Javi showily puts his arm around your shoulders and puckishly mutters, "See? I'm justified."

"Hush, chavón. You're holding up the tour," is your quippy lilt as you loop your arm around his waist and squeeze with mischievous affection.

Getting to the end of the hall and opening the door quietly, you both follow Anita into the darkened bedroom towards the baby's crib. Javi smiles warmly when you lean down and brush the wispy curls framing her ear, smitten with how your eyes fill with nothing but doting sweetness for the little one. It makes heat bristle in his apex and something fledgling quiver in his chest.

Cautiously exiting the bedroom to not stir the baby, you all walk back to the patio while you and Anita gush about how cute Delilah is.

"—She's finally sleeping better, which is a relief. Ellis wants to take her to Sears and get her pictures done, but I think she's still too small for all that," Anita is telling you both as you walk out to rejoin the others.

"Give it a month or two, and then she should be big enough to pose for a photoshoot!" Ellis insists affably as he hands Javier back his beer before tending to the grill while remarking, "Got about an hour on the drumsticks, but the ribs are almost ready. I got a few steaks we can throw on later, too."

The doorbell chimes from inside the house, so Anita rushes to answer the front door, and returns a few minutes later with the Murphys in tow.

"What, you running on Puerto Rican time now?" Javier can help razz as he sets his beer aside and says hello to Connie before pulling out a patio chair for her.

"Yeah, right. Isabel spilled a whole sippy cup's worth of juice all over herself right as we were getting her in the car seat," Steve laments while the baby in his arm happily tugs on the front of his red polo's collar.

Since he had the baby's carrier in his other hand, Connie was carrying the diaper bag and a tote with all the potluck dishes she'd made, while Olivia carried her latest favorite dolly.

"Aww. Well you made in just in time," you chime as you kiss Steve hello on the cheek and smile at the baby before greeting Connie in the same fashion.

Ellis greets them in turn before Anita helps divest them of the dishes and sets up a spot for the carrier while you and Javi introduce the Murphys to Anita's parents.

"Mami, can I go on the swing?" Olivia asks, big brown eyes pleading as Connie hurriedly tries to brush her hair from her face after placing the heavy diaper bag down on the patio chair for now.

"Have you said hello to everyone first?" is her motherly retort as she pulls her periwinkle blouse's hem down and smoothens out her light wash jean shorts from rolling up her thighs.

Dutifully, Olivia goes up to Javi and waves for him to lean down so she can kiss him on the cheek. "Hi!" and then scampers over to do the same with you before going to the other adults and waving hello. "Can you push me on the swing?" she asks Javi after scampering back towards him from placing her dolly on a patio chair.

"Sure thing," he warmly retorts before gesturing for you to come along as he offers, "I can push you both. As high as you want."

Snickering, you joke, "Only if I get to push you later."

"Fine by me," Javi drawls charismatically.

"Sit and take a load off, you two," Anita insists amiably to the Murphys, setting out the appetizers and refreshments for everyone to enjoy.

"I wish I had a swing set at home."

"I thought you liked going to the park?"

"I do, but I wish I had a swing set and a playhouse. Some of my friends at school have them in their backyard. Do you have a swing where you live, Celina?"

"I don't, so this is fun," you reply to the little girl as you both swing along while Javi pushes you both gently, at the same time.

While you three are at the swing set, you don't realize Connie has pulled Steve's camera out from the diaper bag and silently cajoled him to switch giving her Isabel for it so he can snap a few pictures of you three having fun.

Just as Anita and Ellis are answering questions about where they got the backyard set, the sudden sound of staticky crying filters over from the baby monitor they'd set out on one of the outdoor accent tables by the sliding door. Anita goes inside to check on the baby while Ellis keeps the conversation going.

"—Lucked out today. Just sunny and breezy. Perfect grillin' weather," is his musing, sipping from his beer before asking, "Oh, does Olivia like hot dogs? I have some I can throw on the grill."

"You hungry, Olivia?" Steve shouts over at the precocious girl who is swinging a little higher than he expected. "Take it easy, Jav!"

"What? She asked to go higher," Javier retorts while Olivia lets out a conspiratorial giggle.

"Javi, más suave," you amusedly tut at him, so he chivalrously guides Olivia's swing to slow its momentum a bit, before naughtily pushing you higher. "Javier!"

He laughs and quickly takes hold of your seat to help slow the momentum for you, and you have to try to look rueful instead of exhilarated when you turn and glower at him.

"Que malo eres," you snipe humorously under your breath as you leave the swing and pinch his arm lightly.

Olivia parrots, "Javi es malo."

Grinning, you triumphantly watch Javier pout as he litigates to the little girl, "No soy malo de verdad."

"Um, what's that mean?" she pipes as she hops down from the swing seat.

"He's just saying he's not really bad," you answer for him and lean up to kiss him on the cheek. "But he was being a silly brat."

"Hmph," he grumbles wordlessly and pulls a mock frown, which only makes Olivia laugh. "Alright, let's go have snacks."

The little girl marches over to the patio table to do just that, so you flirtatiously wink at Javi and hold your hand out for him. Smirking, he takes it, and you tow him down to join everyone around the table.

Anita emerges from the house with Delilah held in the crook of her arm while she swishes the bottle of baby formula. "Amá, can you take her for me? I want to make drinks for the girls," she asks of her mother.

"Let her madrina have some face time," you volunteer and go over so Anita can hand you the baby and bottle before you sit in the vacant chair adjacent Connie.

"I'll help you with the drinks," Anita's mother offers while she gestures for Javier to sit in her seat. "Do you want anything stronger than beer, you two?" she asks of him and Steve.

"I'm fine with a beer, thank you," Steve assures, and Javi seconds with a nod before reclaiming his own and drinking from it.

"Ellis, I'll grab the hot dogs from the fridge. You watch the grill," Anita's father remarks as he follows them into the house.

While Olivia enjoys the little cheese and crackers from the snack dish, the adults around her chatter conversationally.

As everyone talks about local events, Javi watches you from across the table while you listen and simultaneously feed Delilah her bottle.

Seeing you hold such a small baby, glancing down at her every so, and smiling? It makes something primal and nurturing bloom in his chest. The back of his neck gets hot when he glances over and realizes Steve's caught him staring at you, so he sits up straighter and drinks a long pull from his beer.

By the time the hot dogs are on the grill and the tray of frozen drinks has come out to the table, you're already burping the baby, gently patting her back while cradling her to your shoulder.

"Oop, 'scuse you," you mumble sweetly to the baby when she lets out a hiccup of a burp and yawns against your shoulder. When Anita sits next to you and slides over the frozen cocktail to you, you reluctantly hand Delilah back. "Dito, she's already sleepy."

"Yeah, but trust me – it won't last for long," Anita sighs as she rocks the baby in her arms. "I made you a daiquiri, but let me know if you'd prefer a margarita—"

"Ah, no way! No tequila drinks for me," you exclaim and shake your head before sipping from the fruity daiquiri.

"Are you allergic to tequila?" Connie asks before thanking Ellis for the plate of hotdogs she begins to dutifully cut into smaller morsels for Olivia.

"No, I don't think so, but the last time I had it, I got so sick, I couldn't get out of bed for almost two days," you explain, grimacing at the mere recall. "I swore to never have tequila again after that."

Cataloguing that in his personal record of knowledge about your likes and dislikes, Javier remarks coolly to the group, "She's a Cuba Libre gal, anyway."

"Hah, remember when the fellas at Mil Group used to call you Miss Cuba Libre?" Ellis chuckles as he rotates some of the drumsticks.

"Actually, that was you and Samson who came up with that," you counter aloofly before realizing you've mentioned the former field operations analyst in Javier's presence.

"What's a Cuba Libre?" Olivia pipes up before eating a piece of hotdog she's just dipped in ketchup.

"It's a tropical drink only for grown-ups," Javier answers as he steals a piece of hotdog from her plate, popping it in his mouth and chewing with gusto while he squints goofily at her.

You internally breathe a sigh of relief at Javi's unruffled demeanor.

Since there aren't enough seats around the patio table, you get up and offer yours to Ellis once the ribs are ready and he's serving them.

"I'm going to pace myself for the barbecue chicken," you tell him as you go sit on the swing.

Javier gets up from his seat, remarking, "And I'm leaving room for the steak," as he goes over to sit on the swing next to you, eyeing you charmingly as he croons, "Still up for pushing me?"

Snickering, you go to stand behind him, and with all your might, you push him by the center of his back to get the momentum forward to swing.

The swing set protests with squeaks the more Javi gains speed, and you can't help deride, "Uh oh, I think you exceed the size limit for this, chulito."

As he swings backwards, he deliberately leans back so he can taunt in a gravelly pitch, "Wouldn't be the first time, preciosa."

You laugh in that scandalized, yet tickled way he loves before swatting his shoulder and hissing conspiratorially, "No seas fresco."

Digging his boot heels into the soft grass, he stops swinging and sits on the seat before guiding you to move around in order to swoop you into sitting across his lap.

Holding you to him, he kisses your cheek, and whispers in your ear, "I'm already doing a lot to control myself, guapita. But you're making it very hard."

The apples of your cheeks heat up at the double entendre, especially when all your friends are not even ten feet away.

You turn your head and angelically smile before pecking him chastely on the lips. "Behave, or else you're getting punished when we get home," is your murmured whisper, seductive tone not matching your serene smile.

You stand and strut back to the table, leaving Javier to pine for you before going to join Ellis and Steve by the beer cooler.

Once the rib appetizer has been partaken in, Ellis gets back to the grill to work on the next round of meat while you go with Connie inside to help retrieve all the side dishes.

Taking the baby so Anita can help hand out plates and cutlery, Ellis holds her in the crook of his arm while Steve and Javi go to the cooler and crack open another round of beers for the men.

The breeze in the shady backyard has dissipated by the time Ellis is planning on throwing on the seasoned cuts of steak to the grill, and just as he's about to ask Anita to take the baby, she's come out with them on a glass bake dish and sets it on the grill's side table.

"Ugh, the bugs are coming out now. Come, let's eat at the table inside," Anita directs, so you all collect the plates and platters to do just that.

"Ah, crap. I forgot to bring back out the barbecue and steak sauce," Ellis grumbles, quickly turning to see everyone but he and Javier have moseyed into the house already. So, without batting an eye, he pivots towards the other man and practically bestows the docile baby at a surprised Javier, who clumsily takes her in a broad-armed cradle as Ellis rushes out, "Here, hold her for a sec while I run in and whip the sauce up for the drumsticks. I'll be right back!"

At being in an unfamiliar hold, Delilah squirms and looks up at Javier, almost questioningly.

"It's ok. I got you," he tells her in a soft, cooing tone to quiet her fussing while he carefully rocks her.

Inside the house, you're just finishing pointing out to everyone which of the casserole dishes is the potato salad with mayonnaise when you hear Steve chuckle as he steps back out through the sliding door, and jokes, "She's looking grumpy there, Jav. Maybe don't hold her like a bomb that's about to go off."

You look in direction of the patio and see Javier holding Delilah while shooting a laconic look at Steve before he adjusts the way his arms are cradled to better hold the baby, nestling her close to his chest.

The sight of him standing broad-shouldered and tall, with the gentle smile on his face as he looks down at the baby when she grabs a little fistful of his yellow shirt? Watching as the nervous tension melts from his posture as he rocks the baby and chats with Steve? It makes a fluttering ache fizzle up in your core before your heart winces at the thought you've tried to bury deep.

He'd make a wonderful father. But you won't be able to do that for him.

The sting of tears threatens to crest up in you, but you take a cleansing breath and distract yourself with cleaning up the kitchen counter while everyone else is busy serving food and settling to sit at the table, chatting away.

Meanwhile, Javier is keeping his attention on the little baby while Steve peppers him with questions.

"—So you're definitely going to that gala together?"

"That's the plan."

"But you haven't disclosed it to Mercer yet."

"Nope."

"Do you plan on doing that before the party?"

"I was planning to the next time it's my turn to be at the building."

"Hm. You ever gonna get around to putting a ring on her finger?"

"…You're lucky I'm holding this baby, and can't swear at you right now."

"I know. That's why I brought it up."

Sighing, Javi glances at his buddy. "I've been thinking about it. But I told you – I've got no clue what to get her. And I feel like I gotta do a few things first before I can make the move," is his honest retort.

"Like what?" Steve asks before drinking his beer.

"Get things on solid ground between us. There's still a lot of making up I gotta do after Colombia…" is his musing, pausing before adding, "I also want to ask permission."

"…From who?" Steve grunts before asking, "Her dad?"

"Yeah. Before, when they weren't on speaking terms still, I had wanted to ask her grandmother for her blessing…but I didn't get a chance to. Now, that they've mended their relationship, I feel like I should go to him and ask," he explains, and at Steve's quirked brows, he grumbles, "It sounded like it was important, within the family. I don't want to cause friction between them, and my track record isn't great—"

"Getting the presumptive father-in-law to like you, you mean?" Steve rasps in a knowing drawl, hand shoved into his pocked while he swigs his beer with the other one.

Delilah yawns and wriggles in his arms, so Javi quips, "Even she's bored of you, Captain Obvious."

Ellis returns with his secret barbecue sauce then, so they drop the topic and strike up convo with the man as he works on the grill.

When the boys come back into the house with the tray piled high with meat a little while later, they find everyone merrily chatting while Isabel sleeps in her carrier and Olivia is wrapped in her coloring book, sat on the stool at the counter.

Anita takes Delilah from Javier and goes to check her diaper before putting her down for a nap while the buffet-style dinner commences. By the time she comes back, she sets the baby monitor on the kitchen counter and joins everyone in food and banter.

Eventually, with the kids preoccupied, the adults talk about current world events, and during coffee and dessert, the conversation turns to 'the trial of the century,' of which you hadn't been paying much attention to.

"—Whole new meaning to 'the Juice is loose,' I say. The guy is totally guilty," Ellis is wisecracking, to Anita's wry chagrin.

"Ay, you and that trial," is her chastising huff before she takes a bite of the delicious cake you brought over. "You all haven't been watching it, right?"

"Only the nightly news recaps, after we put the kids to bed," Connie replies as she sips her coffee.

"It seems like a pretty open and shut case," Steve remarks conversationally as he contemplates having another slice of the scrumptious cake.

"Do you think so?" Anita's father asks Javi, glancing at you too as he remarks, "We've heard a lot of people believe otherwise."

"Honestly, I don't know enough about it. When we get home, we're usually so preoccupied with other things that we usually only have enough energy left to watch local news together," is Javi's loaded, smug comment, to which you scoff and swat his thigh haughtily while he cockily stays reclined in his seat, with his arm along the back of your chair.

Everyone exchanges chuckles before changing the conversation to other topics.

By the end of the early evening, you're all packing up leftovers to take home before exchanging praise over the food shared, and thanking the Roses for hosting the barbecue.

"—Wanna go shopping this week? I don't have a dress I can fit in for the gala," Anita asks you and Connie as the men stow things in the cars.

"Sure. I have a dress in mind for it already, but I was thinking of getting a different pair of shoes for it," you tell them, and after some more chit chat on the way to the front yard, you all make shopping plans for after work later in the week.

Saying goodbye to everyone, you and Javier drive home to your place, warmly chatting about how nice the gathering was, and how you should all make future plans to hang out like that again.

By the time you get to your condo, you and Javi are getting a second wind, so when you walk in, you're tossing your purse on the counter and kicking your strappy leather sandals off, padding barefoot to the sideboard as you chime, "—Ah, it's still early. Want to have drinks on the balcony? It's so nice out."

"Sure," he retorts as he locks the door and slides the keys onto the bartop counter while going to store the leftovers into the fridge. As he does so, he watches you retrieve a bottle of his favorite whiskey and your preferred rum, placing them on the glass table so you can push the vertical blinds aside to open the sliding balcony door and let the cool evening breeze in. With a wry smirk, he irreverently asks, "Want me to make yours, Miss Cuba Libre?"

Biting your bottom lip and coquettishly looking back at him, you drawl coyly, "I was worried that might've annoyed you. I didn't mean to—"

Frowning, Javier walks over and cups his hands at your hips. "Hey, it didn't bother me. I was only teasing, querida," is his earnest insistence. The genuine concern in his eyes makes you pout, so he kisses your lips before taunting, "And I remember a time you swore you didn't like apodos."

Scoffing girlishly, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and kiss him back before grousing, "Yeah, well, you had your own nickname, Mister Guapo Descarado."

Chuckling ruggedly, he squeezes you affectionately before grabbing the bottles of liquor to go make your drinks in the kitchen. As he grabs two glasses from the cupboard, he glances over at you while asking unabashedly, "Who came up with that one?"

Smiling, you slide the screen door open and lean against the frame as you answer, "That was what Marisol and the girls called you. And based on all the gossip I'd heard? It seemed quite fitting."

"Great," he laconically drawls as he walks over with your drinks. "I swear. Half of the rumors were bullshit," is his glib aside, handing you the glass and fighting to keep a straight face, especially when you give him that discerning stare. "They were!"

"Ah-hah," you deadpan waggishly before sipping your drink and taking his hand to lead him out to the balcony so you can both enjoy the breeze and the tropical twilight sky over the bright Condado skyline across the laguna.

It felt nice, looking out at the view, with the whiskey warming his bloodstream, and you lovingly embraced against his side. So much so, that when the intrusive thoughts from earlier stumble up into the forefront of his mind – Shit, she wouldn't have a drink if she knew she was pregnant! – Javier almost vehemently dismisses them.

But then, the vision of you, holding the baby – of how sweet and doting you were with her nestled in your arms – digs loose that anxious pang from earlier.

"Celina…" he begins, and when you turn to stare with open attention up at him, he wavers. "I—I uh…"

Blinking curiously, you set your drink aside on the small, circular, mosaic-tiled patio table tucked in the corner of the balcony where you're standing so you can place your hands reassuringly at his chest as you ask, "What? What's the matter?"

Fuck. Real smooth. Javi grouses at himself before exhaling noisily. Deciding he has to just come out with it, he downs his glass of whiskey before setting aside on the table. Steeling himself, he breathes out through his nose before resting his hands at your waist in order to ground himself.

"Earlier today, while I was putting my stuff away, I went to put something in your vanity drawer," he tells you, and at your expression shuttering in from the mention of the drawer, he continues, "I saw the birth control case. And I looked inside…"

Your heart drops.

Instantly, your eyes begin to well with tears, and Javi is startled by your reaction, so he quickly comforts, "Mi amor, don't get upset. I didn't mean to snoop, but I couldn't help looking. It's alright. We've talked about it, remember? We'll figure it out together—"

Realizing what he's saying – that he thinks the pills were discarded in the drawer because you're secretly pregnant? It hits you hard.

You bite your lip to stop it from quivering before forcing the tears back down and out from the knot in your throat.

"Javier…it's not like that. I—I have been having problems. Since before we got back together. I…I haven't been menstruating, and for the last few months, I've been doing blood work and check-ups. The doctor told me to get off the pill, to see if that was the cause—if being on it had just prolonged a hormonal imbalance or something, but…I haven't been ovulating. It's still too early… it could be a lingering case of amenorrhea, b-but, there's a possibility that I could be…that I could be infertile."

You brace for his reaction, terrified and ashamed. So much so, you can't even hold his gaze when you say the last part.

But then, Javi cups your cheek and tips your face back up to him.

His dark brown eyes are resolute and filled with composure, and his expression chisels into that semblance that so rarely comes over his countenance, save when you're both in bed, in post-coital repose.

"Querida, I'm so sorry you've been dealing with this alone. Why didn't you tell me sooner?" When you hesitate, and your eyes fill up with tears again, he realizes why. "You thought it would change how I feel?"

The tears overflow past your lashes, unbidden, and you nod before stifling a sob into the back of your hand.

"Celina," he husks and hugs you, overcome by your reaction, and holds you tight, nuzzling the top of your hair and trying to regain his composure. As soon as he does, he finds the steady voice he needs to declare, "Nothing will ever make me change the way I feel about you. I love you. I just want us to be together, whatever way possible. Being with you, and making you happy is everything I care about. All we need is each other. To love each other, nothing else."

You sob and melt into his embrace at his words, feeling like you've been delivered by his unwavering love and grace.

"I love you with all my heart, Javi. I j-just want to m-make you happy—to make a life with you. To g-give you love and a life you want, and t-that matters—" you stammer through tears, and Javi derails your cracking admittance by tipping your face up to him.

"I have it. Right here and now. Whatever happens, we have each other. All that matters to me, is what we have," he passionately conveys, voice going hoarse as he proclaims, "I love you. Solo te quiero a ti por toda mi vida. And all I want is to be with you."

He wipes the tears away from your cheeks, his expression open and genuine as you breathlessly smile before hugging him with palpable yearning.

Feeling you tremble, Javi effortlessly picks you up and carries you into the apartment and down the hall to your bedroom.

Wanting to comfort you, he intended to just lay you down and cuddle close, but you're raw with emotion, and longingly kiss him, mewling softly into his mouth. When he claims yours rapaciously while stripping your clothes off, piece by piece, your hands hurriedly unbutton his shirt, tug at his belt buckle, and unfasten his jeans while he kicks his boots off and clambers with you onto the bed.

His warm skin and spicy scent have your senses buzzing, making you needy and wet before he's even bared you completely and settled between your welcoming thighs.

Javier shudders as your hands cling to his back while your teeth graze down his shoulder, making lust and savage desire burn through him and throb beseechingly to be inside you.

With how emotionally raw and hyper-aroused you are, the feeling of his cock notching at your dimpled entrance makes you quiver and whimper, nipples taut and tingling as he suckles hard on one and then the other. His mouth is hot and possessive as he rakes it up to trail dizzying desire through you as it charts possessively up your neck while his cock punches a deep thrust into your molten sheath before stroking all the way out and slamming back in to the hilt.

Your cry of pleasure is devoured by his mouth claiming yours, and the more he fucks into you, the more ravenous and besotted his pace becomes, until it steals his breath and he has to growl your name against your neck.

"Celina—!"

Spun up by the onslaught of sensations and feelings, you cling to him and beg, "Please, Javi. P-Please!"

The tears in your wavering whimper snap him back into control, and he slows his rapaciousness, focusing on taking you apart with the fill of his cock in your fluttering cunt while caressing your flushed features and kissing the tears away.

Voice hoarse with emotion, Javi croons softly, "I got you. Just you and me. Let go, cariño. You don't have to hold onto it. Let me have it. Nothing else matters. It's just you and me. I love you—"

That's when you do, letting go of all the angst, fear, shame, and heartache of possibly losing him. Of losing a life you didn't know you wanted for him – that you were not be able to give to him. To mourn the possibility of a life you'd never known you wanted for yourself.

When you have no more tears, he rests his forehead to yours and lets you get your bearings, focusing on your calming breath and easing trembling.

"Javi."

"Hmm?"

"I love you."

He opens his eyes and stares deeply into your glossy ones, and sees the palpable feeling you just professed shining in them.

You make love to each other, carnally honed into everything you can only say to each other physically.

The throes of pleasure speak volumes for how you feel, and when you both reach bliss together, you're unable to do anything else but curl into each other and kiss before Javi protectively wraps you up in his arms.

His heart beats strong with yours, and everything in him is at peace, knowing there's nothing else that can hurt you. That you love him enough to want to protect him from even the perceived thought that you couldn't give him a life that neither of you even knew you'd wanted until the prospect showed itself looking up at you both, with sweet innocence, earlier that day.

Knowing that you're enough – that Javi wants a life with you, regardless of any obstacles, was a salve to your raw psyche after harboring the fear for so long.

It's just us. Our love is all that matters.

As you both drift to sleep, only serenity and love fill the atmosphere for you, and the tethering feeling that settles between you helps keep hope grounded in your hearts for all that there is still to come.

The turmoil that awaits you both is nothing either of you see coming, however.

  ________________

Spanish-English Glossary:

Colmadito = Grocery shop; similar to a bodega; community foodstuff store

Coquí = Puerto Rican tree frogs; they croak 'coquí', hence their name

Urbanizacíon = Urbanization; housing development

Mi cariñito = My sweet little darling

Preciosa = Gorgeous; precious

No te he dado de alta = I haven't discharged you

Chavón = A man that's pestering you

Mi amor = My love

Mandona = Bossy lady

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

Querida/querido = Affectionate term, akin to expressing one's want and desire

Guapita = Sassy/foxy/daring/testy lady

Corazón = Heart; pet name to signify how deeply you love someone

Galán = Handsome gent

Malcriada/malcriado = Brat/spoiled

Marquesina = Open air garage or carport

Autopista = Freeway; highway

Pendejo = Dumbass/Jackass

Siempre a la órden = Always at your service

Puto = Fucking; male whore; slut

Congrí = Cuban dish made of black beans and rice with bacon and fragrant spices

Guapetón = Super handsome, good-looking guy

Buen provecho = Bon apetit

Arroz con pollo = Rice with chicken

Carne con papas = Meat with potatoes

Pernil = Roast pork shoulder

Pinche asesinos = Fucking murderers/killers

Cariño = Darling/sweetheart

Come, gatito = Eat, kitty

Flan de queso = Cheese flan; Latin American dessert

Perreo = Dance style associated with reggaetón; doggystyle, twerking dance

Fresco = a guy who's being 'fresh', or naughty/pervy

Chulo/Chulito = Cute guy; little cutie

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

Bebito = Little baby (male)

Te quiero, mi amor = I love you, my love

Te amo con todo mi corazón = I love you with all my heart

Bravita= Tough girl; feisty girl

Frituras = Fritters; tropical turnovers

Playas = Beaches

Suavón = Smooth talker; Smooth guy

Medalla = Popular beer found in Puerto Rico

Canela = Cinnamon

Dámelo, mi amor = Give it to me, my love

Pórtate bien = Behave

Patrona = Madam; boss lady; mistress

El campo = The countryside

Chinchorrear = Slang for going bar-hopping; a chinchorro is a kiosk or dive bar you go to have a few drinks before moving on to the next establishment

Gruñón = Grumpy man

Nena = Girl

Llámame = Call me

Tarta de frutas = A vanilla cheesecake-like cake covered in tropical fruit slices

Más suave = Gentler; Softer

Que malo eres = You're so bad; You're so mean

Javi es malo = Javi is bad

No soy malo de verdad = I'm not bad for real

Amá = Medellín way of referring to 'Ma' or 'Mamá'

Madrina = Godmother

Dito = Short for 'bendito', which is a phrase conveying hopeful lamentation

No seas fresco = Don't be fresh

Apodos = Nicknames

Guapo Descarado = Handsome Cad

Laguna = Lagoon

Solo te quiero a ti por toda mi vida = I only want you for the rest of my life

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

[endlessthxxghts]

Bend Over

Javier Peña x afab!reader || W/C: 4.8k

Summary: Your dresser craps out on you. Your boyfriend, Javier, comes with you to IKEA to buy a new one. Then, he fucks you on it.

Content/Warnings: I think you know what you guys are getting into based on the summary😗. Reader is able-bodied. Slight implied physical descriptors Javi is taller than reader, and the IKEA dresser is slightly bigger/taller than you (everything else is neutral - no size descriptions - ex. "your form", etc.). Pet names (good girl, querida, cariño, baby, baby girl, mama, mi amor). Implied that reader knows Spanish. A little allusion to our favorite contractor, Joel Miller (blink and you’ll miss it). SMUT 18+ MDNI. Public sexual activity (exhibitionism). Finger fucking. Edging. Slight undertones of BDSM dynamics. Javi’s filthy mouth. Thigh riding. Hickey/marking. P in V unprotected sex. Choking. Breeding kink (I’m not sorry). Cum play. Anal play. Brief pussy licking + rimming. Allusion to further sexual activity. I thiiiink that’s it… let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: HIII I’M BACK! I went to ikea to buy a new dresser. And the thots between @javierpena-inatacvest and I ran wild. So, this was born.👹 Also, I no longer have a tag list, but I teased this story TWICE in some WIP tag games, and a few of you were giving me so much love and wanting me to let you know when this story was posted, so I’m adopting the tag list (at da bottom) one last time to say how much I love you all. 🥹 I’m sorry this took me so long. Thank you so much. I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!!!!

MASTERLIST || NOTIF BLOG

It was supposed to be just a trip to IKEA. It was supposed to be a productive day of building your dresser and rearranging your room. That is what it was supposed to be. 

How it ended up with you getting your guts rearranged on top of said dresser—you’re not so sure. But, considering this is Javier Peña you’re talking about, maybe you have a slight indication of why your day ended up the way it did. 

It was early this morning when your dresser decided to shit on you; all you did was slide the door open, and it completely pulled off of its hinge. Now, you don’t mind a doorless dresser, it’s modern, you tried to convince yourself, but when you pulled out the second drawer and the wood snapped in half, scattering your panties all over the ground—yeah, okay, it was definitely time for a new one. 

You called your boyfriend after you cleaned up your clothes, and asked if he wanted to come with you on your hunt for the new piece of furniture. Why are you even asking? he scolded as he saddled up into his Jeep and made his way to your place. 

He stepped out of his seat in the driver side, rounding the hood to pull you in for a lengthy kiss as he pulled the passenger side door open for you. “Well, hello to you, too, baby,” you giggle as you break the kiss for a breath of air. He leaves a slap to your ass as he guides you by your hips into the passenger seat. He even buckles you in, stealing one more kiss before you two head off. 

You thought shopping for a new dresser would be simple: get in, choose a sizable one that could fit everything your previous dresser could, and also make sure it matches the rest of your room’s theme. Simple, right? Wrong. As long as Javier was involved, he took his sweet time really studying each option you were pointing out—analyzing it to ensure it wouldn’t crap out on you like your original one did. 

“How long did you have this dresser?” He asked as he was pulling into the IKEA parking lot. 

“Mmm, I don’t know,” you thought, “maybe a few years?”

“A few years?!” Javier asked, exasperated. “Where the hell did you find that fucking thing?”

You let a beat of silence pass before you answered. “...I thrifted it,” you admit weakly. 

Javier puts the car in park, his face in utter shock at what just came out of your mouth. “Querida, what-” he starts. 

You pull him in immediately, shutting him up with your lips against his. It works, of course. “Let’s go?” you ask. 

“Y-yeah, vamos (let’s go),” he says, flustered. 

“Javi, c’mon,” you whine, feeling exhausted after his analysis on your third option since the first two didn’t pass the Peña inspection. “Since when were you a contractor? The first two were perfectly fine, baby, it’s IKEA for crying out loud.”

He scoffs. “Living on the ranch with Pop,” he replies to your sarcastic remark. “You and I are both aware I know my way around some handiwork,” he adds as he looks back to you, a shit-eating grin creeping on his face. 

You want to roll your eyes, but you can’t help the way your body ignites to the suggestion laced in his words. “Pendejo,” you mutter to yourself, fighting the heat from making it to your face. 

You walk around some more while your boyfriend opens every nook and cranny of the wooden frame, but then right as you turn your body, you find it. The dresser. HEMNES. You quickly make your way to it, running your hands along the dark brown surface, crouching down to open up and see how much space is in the drawers—which, it’s very spacious. The drawer itself is taller than your waistline, probably reaching just at your belly button. It’s perfect. “Baby, wait, come here! I think I found one!” You call out. 

Javier follows your voice, intrigued by your excitement—you didn’t show this much enthusiasm with the other ones he was looking at. He rounds the corner and is met with quite a view. You are bending over the top of the dresser, on your tippy toes, trying to feel for the depth of the dresser. He sees you settle your hands at the edges of the top and shake it a little, testing out its durability while also unknowingly wiggling your ass. Fuck me, he thinks. Quickly adjusting his pants, he makes his way to you, situating his body directly against yours as he cages you in. 

“Jav-” you softly gasp, not expecting to feel him. Immediately you’re pulling yourself up, still on your tippy toes, but your back is now flush against his chest. 

“Ay, Dios mío,” he grunts as he whispers in your ear, “Querida, please get up.” His hands are on your hips, pulling you away from the dresser. You turn in his hold, a giggle leaving your throat as you look at his stressed out expression, realizing why his reaction was so pained. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” You ask him quietly. “Saw something you like, huh?” You pull him in by his neck, kissing the side of his mouth before you pull away from him completely. Gesturing to the dresser, you ask, “Does this one pass the inspection, sir?” 

He glares at you before he replies. “Yeah, let’s get this one.”

Your eyebrow quirks up. “You didn’t even look at it.” 

“I saw enough, cariño,” he says gruff, looking at the tag on the display and taking note of which aisle the box will be at. 

You know your man well enough to know when he’s turned on, and that little unintentional stunt you pulled when making sure HEMNES was the right dresser for you—oh, it absolutely sent him over the edge. You decided to let him brew in his own arousal until you checked out your purchase, but the moment you set foot in his car again, you were set on starting something you wanted him to finish. 

“Thank you again for coming with me, baby,” you say as he settles back into the driver seat, your hand taking its seat on his upper thigh. 

The muscle twitches underneath your palm. “Mhm,” he mutters, voice wavering at your contact. Just as Javier puts the car in drive, he’s immediately pushing it back to park because your hand slides higher, closer, to the hardening bulge between his legs. His hips softly buck into your grasp; you take one look at him, and you can see the veins in his neck popping. A victory smile graces your face as his turns into a scowl. “What are you doing?”

You feign as much innocence as possible. “What am I doing? I’m just saying thank you, baby, I can’t tell you thank you?” 

“Right,” he says unconvinced. Your fingers continue to draw little shapes across the strained material of his pants. You go to cup him entirely, but the strength of his hand stops you. 

He releases your hand and gets out of the car, the car still running. He is at your side faster than you can take your own seatbelt off. He’s pulling your door open and giving you no chance for debate, his hand wraps around your jaw and pulls you into a bruising kiss—a messy yet calculated dance of teeth and tongue, and in pulling away he’s biting your bottom lip, pulling the sweetest little desperate whimper from your throat. He clocks the way your hips softly grind into his seat. 

“J-jav,” your voice shakes, “w-what are you doing-”

His grip on your jaw tightens, giving you a little shake as he speaks. “You had your fun, cariño,” he breathes. “My turn now.” 

His hand leaves your face and snakes down the front of your body, unzipping your jeans as you just stare wildly at the sight below you, your breathing erratic as your body anticipates his next move. 

“We- we’re in the fucking parking lot still, Javi!” You whisper yell at him, pissed, even though your body is doing absolutely nothing to stop him. He smirks at that fact. You want this. 

“Guess you’ll just have to keep quiet for me, yeah?” His fingers slip past your jeans, past your underwear, and you’re fucking soaked. His middle and ring finger bypass your clit, circling your entrance to gather the wetness accumulating before he comes back up to circle your throbbing bud. 

“Oh, fuck,” you yelp out, your eyes rolling back and your hips pushing into his hand as you hiss out in the pleasure. At your volume, Javi’s quick to stop his ministrations, cupping your mound and squeezing you as a warning. If the space allowed, you know he would’ve slapped your cunt. This alternative is equally as dizzying. 

“Open your eyes, baby,” he rasps. Your eyes flutter open. “You see all these people, huh? You want them to see you? See my good girl getting finger fucked in broad fucking daylight?”

“F-fuck, Jav” you whimper, much quieter this time, as your eyes land back on your man’s as you try and grind yourself on him. Javi’s fingers find your entrance then, sliding in with ease as a new wave of arousal pours out of you. 

“Oh, you like that idea, don’t you?” His fingers speed up their momentum as he adds his thumb into the mix, hurtling you much closer to your finish line than you anticipated. 

“Baby, I’m c-close, I’m- fuck- I’m gonna cum, Javi, I-” you bring your hand up over your mouth to stifle the sobs that are about to leave your mouth.

“Yeah, baby? Gonna give us a show?” He asks, his breathing just as erratic as yours. All you need is one more little push from his thumb on your clit, and then-

“No!” you cry.

Right as you were about to fall over the edge, Javier completely pulls his fingers out of you, standing up straight as he licks his fingers off. Your hips don’t realize he left you as they buck a few more times, chasing the feeling of what could have been. 

“Baby, please, I was so close,” you heave, your heart rate equivalent to that of a hummingbird. 

Javier leans down into the car, slotting his lips against yours terribly slow; your taste lingers on his tongue. He pulls away. “Sorry, mama,” he whispers. “Only I get to see you fall apart like that.” 

He zips and buttons your pants up, leaving you a stunned, aroused, wet mess as he makes his way back to the driver seat and pulls out of the parking spot, driving back to your place as if nothing even happened. 

The drive home is short, but it feels like the longest drive you’ve ever had to endure. He rests his hand on your thigh the entire time, squeezing you every now and then as his pinky leaves featherlight touches where you need him most. He talks to you during the drive—about what, you honestly have no clue, but it seemed the conversation was enough for him to sustain alone. 

You’re brought out of your daze when his hand grabs your jaw, turning you to look at him. “You okay, baby?” He asks, knowing damn well what’s got your head in the clouds. 

The throbbing between your legs remained consistent—worse, even—on the drive home, so no you’re not fucking okay. You don’t tell him that, though. “Mhm,” you hum, not trusting your vocal cords to string together something coherent. 

He pulls your lips to his—a lingering one, one that has your mind slipping further. Breaking the embrace, he says softly, “Go unlock the door, amor, while I carry the box in, yeah?” 

On wobbly legs, you make your way to your door, missing the hole a few times but eventually the key slides in with ease. You toss them into the bowl on the entryway table, making your way to the kitchen to grab yourself a glass of water to contain yourself until Javier comes inside. 

Apparently, you’re way more distracted than you thought, because one gulp down and he’s behind you—hands on your waist, mouth on your neck. You set the glass down a little harshly, its weight suddenly increasing tenfold with the way he’s on you. 

“Baby,” you whine, your head falling back onto his shoulder. “Please.”

Your boyfriend is turning you around then, turning you to face him, and his mouth is on yours, licking and sucking as his body pushes you up against the fridge, your head landing with a soft thud as his mouth starts to descend down your neck while his fingers work your buttons and zipper for the second time today. 

He’s pulling your bottoms down to your ankles—they’re loose on your form, so they don’t restrict you too much from opening your legs when he slots his thigh in between you, hitting right against your core. 

His lips never leave you, biting and kissing every inch he can reach while his hands find their home at the globe of your asscheeks, securing his grip as he begins a steady pace of your crying pussy back and forth on his clothed thigh. 

“Just like that, cariño, I can feel you fluttering on me already, holy fuck,” he groans as he continues his assault on your chest, leaving pretty bruises all over the valley of your breasts. “Making such a mess, pretty girl,” he mutters into your skin. 

Your hands snake to the curls at the back of his head, yanking them as he brings you back closer and closer to the finish line. He brings his lips back to yours sloppily, one hand leaving your ass to paw at your chest, his fingers rubbing and twisting at your nipples; they harden in his touch.

Your eyes struggle to stay open, his tight jeans providing the yummiest friction against your clit. “I- I’m gonna- please, Jav, I- I need to cum,” you sob. 

His hand at your chest snakes down your body, following the path to your sex. Just as you think he’s about to slip his hands between your legs, his hand changes direction, both hands going up to grip your waist to stop you from moving. His thigh leaves your core, and you’re fighting—your hips chase his muscle, your fingers scrambling to pull him flush against you, but he doesn’t budge. It’s no use. Your high is gone again, painfully forced back to the start line as Javier bends down to grab your panties and work their way back up your legs. 

You’re a heaving mess, tears falling from your eyes as pathetic little protests fall from your lips. 

Exhausted, you sigh and finally blurt out, “Javier Peña, what the fuck are you doing?” 

You can see the faintest shit-eating smirk fall on his face before he mirrors what you did earlier: feign innocence. “Gotta go build your dresser, mi amor.” 

“I can fucking build it later.” 

“But I’m already here. I’ll do it.” 

“Yeah, but your presence is needed elsewhere,” you say, annoyed. You faintly gesture to your sobbing cunt, silenced by your soaked underwear. 

“But if I’m here, I’ll do it, so you don’t have to,” he says, placing a chaste kiss to the side of your mouth. 

“Javi,” you whine, hoping a thousand different ways of are you fucking serious right now translates to him in the tone of your sexual frustration. 

“Just sit pretty for me while I go do it real quick, okay, cariño?” 

Not giving you the chance to respond, he drags you by the wrist to your bedroom, forcing you to get settled in the reading chair you have in there—a prime spot to watch him get all sweaty as he works. Great. 

You wouldn’t have riled him up if you had known this was the kind of torturous game he had in mind. 

Twenty minutes in, and Javier is sweating alright, but it’s not for the reasons you’re thinking. Yeah, it’s a physical strain building this dresser, but this is fucking light work for him. 

No, he’s sweaty, sticky, and disgustingly hot because his dick is at his full potential, throbbing and leaking at everything you put him through—and everything he put himself through, pulling you to the brink of orgasm twice without letting you fully submit to it. He damn near always gets off when you do, and teasing you like this teases him just as much, if not more. 

He’s almost done, he just has one more drawer to put together and slide into place, but he takes a step back and uses his arm to wipe the sweat across his forehead, his breathing heavy during the action. It takes everything in you not to completely melt at what he’s forcing you to witness, a faint whimper escaping you at the sight of him. 

It takes him barely a minute to get the last drawer assembled before he attempts sliding it into place. It goes in with ease at first, but before it can fully shut, the drawer gets stuck, unable to close by an inch. What the fuck, he mutters under his breath, lifting it up and wiggling to see if it’s just a kink inside the railing. Your jaw falls a little open at the vulgarity of his mouth; you are way too wound up and everything he’s doing right now has your pussy doing backflips, somersaults, cartwheels—you name it. She’s very eager. 

Fed up with the drawer, Javier completely opens the drawer and then slams it shut, using his hips to give the drawer a full-force push. The slam of the wood is deafening, but it does nothing to hide the sweet little gasp that comes out of you, his cock twitching at the sound. 

A high-pitched, breathy squeak of an oh fuck leaves your mouth, and Javier turns to check on you. He sees your fingers skating down your front, running your middle and ring finger over your soaked center, your clit’s fire immediately reigniting at the contact. 

“¿Cariño?” He calls, a sternness evident in his tone. You know not to test that tone. Your fingers’ movements pause, your eyes meet his and they’re dark. “What do you think you’re doing?” Jesus fuck, he doesn’t even know if he has the strength to fuck you like he was planning on, the sight of you touching yourself has a fire igniting through every vein in his body. 

Your eyebrows are furrowed, nervousness written all over your face. “I…um, I-” you start. 

“Get up,” he cuts you off. 

“What?” You say softly, your brain already scrambled eggs and unable to register what he just asked of you. 

His singular eyebrow raises as he stalks closer to you, his hard gaze looking down at you as your pussy cries even more at the attention. Now his command registers, and you’ll be damned if you have to make him repeat himself. 

You remove your hand from your center, lifting yourself off your chair. He snags you by your waist, pulling your body flush against his front as he steals the breath from your lungs, your tongues meeting hungrily. You moan into his mouth, your hands slowly wrapping around his neck, but before you can grip his sweet curls, he’s pulling away from you, your surprised gasps blessing his ears as he flips you roughly but with ease towards the direction of your new dresser, already in its place secured against the wall. 

“Javi,” you whimper again for what feels like the millionth time already. 

“Dime qué quieres, cariño,” (tell me what you want) he rasps in your ear, his hands skating down your front and resuming what you so desperately started.

“F-fuck-” you start, “fuck me, Javi, please, please fuck me,” you beg, your heart stuttering as he dips his middle finger into your entrance.

He kisses your temple as your eyes fall shut, a contrastingly sweet gesture for the way he’s about to ruin you right now. 

“Then bend over.” 

Now that sobers you up a little. You start to crane your neck in his direction. “W-what?” But he’s quick to grab your jaw, bringing your eyes back to your dresser. “Go do what you were doing earlier, baby. Bend over that dresser for me,” he says, soft but stern, then he’s taking a step back, letting you get there on your own. 

So hooked on his body heat, you can’t help the shudder that leaves you, but ultimately you’re making your way to your new dresser—picking yourself up on your tippy toes to lean over the top, just like you were doing with the store’s floor model. “L-like this?” You ask, voice trembling in anticipation. You stick your ass out a little extra for good measure. 

You hear his belt buckle before you register his deep grumble. “Yeah, baby,” he tells you, slowly making his way to your backside. “So good for me,” he breathes, his fingers hooking into the hem of your underwear and letting them fall to the ground. You step out of them, knowing his next step is gonna be to nudge your legs further open—and he does, using his foot to nudge both of yours outwards. 

He runs his middle finger through your slick as he lets his jeans fall, your hips push further into his touch, chasing the pleasure you’ve been buzzing for all morning. 

“Baby, please,” he hears escaping your mouth. 

“Nuh uh, baby,” he tuts, “I told you. You had your fun already, it’s my turn.” 

He runs his fingers through your wet seam, properly soaking his digits before he brings his hand to his own arousal, covering himself in your slick. He groans at the feeling. Javier crowds himself behind you, his tip immediately mirroring the path of his fingers. He catches himself against your clit, and he smirks at the wrecked sounds of your heavy breathing. 

He pushes himself into you, slow and steady, getting you comfortable in his size. His fingertips are digging little bruises into your hips—his way of grounding himself from absolutely pummeling into you from the get go. 

You two have been together for quite some while, but Javi knows he’s big. It’s evident in the way you mewl and convulse every time he’s inside of you. Too big to get used to, yet perfect for the slight tinge of pain he knows you love. 

“Baby, please move,” you pant. 

“You sure, cariño?” He says softly, his dominant demeanor fading to make sure you’re alright.��

You reach back to grab onto his hand and drag it up your own body, settling his long digits around the base of your neck. With a squeeze of your hand over his: “Fuck me, Jav, please.” 

At your queue, he’s pushing himself into you entirely. “Yeah, baby?” He snarls. “Want me to fuck you like this?” His hips form a hard pace, your hips digging into the ledge of the dresser. “This what your pretty little pussy wants, huh? What she’s been fucking crying for, baby?”

“Fuck-” you gasp. “Fuck, yes- Javi, yesyesyes! Amor, please,” you wail, your eyes rolling back as the pressure of his fingers on your neck restrict your blood flow, filling your body with a euphoria only he can give you. 

His eyes scan down your body, taking in every inch of you with nothing but pure adoration. The sweetness fades when his eyes zone in on where your two centers meet. He lets out an audible moan at the sight, sending your pussy fluttering at the sound. “Look at you, bebita, fucking creaming on me, holy fuck,” he groans, his cock sliding in and out of you with ease.

“I- I’m close, baby, fuck-” your breath stutters. “Touch me, Jav, I- I need you,” you moan. 

“Shh, I’ve got you, mi amor.” Javi’s hand on your throat leaves you and coasts down your spine, his grip fixing itself on the globe of your ass. 

He reaches down with his thumb to gather some of your slick, dragging it up to your tight, more inexperienced hole. You gasp when you feel it, your ass bucking further into his touch. “Oh, my baby girl likes that? You like your ass being played with, cariño?” He taunts, hooking his thumb inside. “Want to me to fuck you there next time?”

“Fuck- yes- please,” you whimper, your pussy fluttering around him at his words. His other hand snakes to your front and reaches for your clit, drawing tight, calculated circles on you. “Oh, fuck-!” you yell out.

“That’s it, baby, fucking- dámelo, fucking soak me, querida” he forces out between his teeth. Your body twitches in his grasp, knuckles stark white against your dresser, eyes clamped shut as you cry out in the overwhelming pleasure consuming every inch of your body. “Fuck,” he groans, your sounds forcing his balls to pull taut. Javi’s fingers speed up along with his thrusts, hurtling you towards your long-awaited climax. 

It’s overstimulating, him fucking into you so harshly as every nerve ending in your body pops off like fireworks. Yet, you feel the way his cock twitches inside of you, the way his pace stutters for barely a second, and you know he’s close. It’s overstimulating, yes, but you want, no, need him to continue, you need him to chase his own finish line—you need him to root himself so deep inside you, you’ll feel traces of him for months on end. 

“You’re close, I can feel it,” you gasp, building your own rhythm of your hips to help him along. “Need it, baby, need you inside of me,” you pant, your voice desperate. You pull yourself off the dresser and push your back into his chest, both his hands leaving your body to grip onto the darkwood, caging you in. 

“Yeah?” you feel his heavy breath fan across your cheek. “Tell me how fucking’ bad, querida, wanna hear it,” he says, voice strained.

You look back at him as best you can in this angle, your lips ghosting his jaw as the slick sounds of you grow louder. “Need you so bad even plan B can’t help us- God- please cum inside of me, Javier Peña, fucking give it to me,” you beg, your moans echoing the walls and rattling every fibre of his being, pushing his body into a state of pure ecstasy as he begins to empty himself into you. 

“Oh…fuck,” he grunts, his hips coming to a halt as he nearly wheezes through his orgasm. Once the sensitivity calms down, Javi pumps himself in and out of you a few more times for good measure, pushing his load deep inside of you. You can feel the way he slides in with a wet ease, and it makes butterflies in your belly erupt, a small gasp of a giggle, knowing that the soaked sensation isn’t because of solely your own product. 

“Fucking perfect,” he grumbles, slowly pulling himself out of you. He takes a small step back to get a look at your used cunt, puffy and glistening. His mouth literally waters. 

Javi drops to his knees, settling his broad palms on each of your ass cheeks to keep the view of you open for him. Slowly, he leans in, the flat of his tongue running over your delicate pearl through your cum-soaked folds, a mix of you and him blessing each taste bud on his tongue. He hears your breath hitch. 

He brings his tongue back in, collecting up the salty combination, before he’s on you again, mapping out the ring of your puckered muscle before he softly peppers the area in sweet kisses, your rear slightly irritated with his repeated slamming into you. 

He pulls himself away, giving you a moment to turn around; your back is to the dresser now. He places several kisses on your thighs, giving a few more kitten licks to your center before he’s rising to his feet and pulling you in for a deep yet gentle kiss. You can taste both you and him, and it makes your heart want to burst at the seams with warmth. 

“You okay?” He asks softly as his lips break away from yours. 

“Always with you,” you offer bashfully. 

“Good,” he says firmly, kissing the tip of your nose. You hear his hand smack the top of your dresser a few times. “I guess this thing is pretty fucking durable, huh?” 

“Mmmm, maybe. I think it needs to pass one more test,” you tell him. 

His eyebrow quirks up, you can see his mustache twitch, fighting his smirk. “And what test would that be, mi amor?” 

Taking a step back out of his hold, you back up into the dresser again, grabbing onto the ledge and you jump, spreading your legs wide open for him to fit in between. 

You can see the way his eyes flash impossibly darker. He stalks up to you again, his hands squeezing your thighs before he’s back on his knees, his head immediately burying himself in your core. 

Oh, yeah, this dresser passes the test, alright. 

Tagging those who showed interest when I posted the WIP !! @honeyedmiller , @punkshort , @joels-shitty-puns , @bearsbeetsbeskar , @janaispunk , @starry-eyes-love

If you enjoyed this, come check out my masterlist for more or follow my notifs blog @endlessthxxghtsnotifs to get updated on when I post new stories! Much love💚

@pedrostories

[joelscurls]

give in to temptation

pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

words: 5.5k

summary: you're in a relationship now — a good, healthy relationship — that doesn't stop you from texting your ex Javi late at night.

warnings: 18+ minors dni, post Narcos s3, porn with plot, smoking, alcohol consumption, explicit smut, sexting, infidelity (I do not condone cheating, but unfortunately it's hot when it's with Javi), reference to masturbation (f), oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, unprotected piv, creampie, use of pet names (cariño, querida, baby, etc.); lmk if I missed anything!

a/n: hi! enjoy 5kish words of dubious morals bc I couldn't get this idea out of my head :)

Humidity clings to the walls, bedsheets strewn across your legs damp with sweat. You kick at them aimlessly, and the cotton grips tighter to slick skin.

In the curve of your palm rests your phone, ringer switched off and brightness turned all the way down — the last thing you want is to wake your boyfriend, dozing next to you as you text another man.

Your fingers are clammy where they wrap around metal, sweat pooling in the divots between your knuckles. 

This is wrong; you know it’s wrong, just like every time preceding this one. But the guilt does nothing to slow the adrenaline racing through your veins. If anything, it makes your heart thump harder.

That, and the words pixelated on the tiny screen of your flip-phone.

Javi [2:03am]:  I’ve been thinking about you all day, cariño. Got me so hard.

You’d met Javier Peña just over a year ago. 

A young woman alone at the bar, you’d drawn him in like a moth to a flame. He had dark brooding eyes and a savior complex that’d been made more apparent with each story he’d shared about his time as a DEA attaché in Colombia, from which he’d recently returned.

Do you miss it? you’d asked, nursing a martini.

Like hell, he’d said. But I have nothing left to give.

I don’t know if I believe you, you’d countered with a wink.

Not an hour later, you’d found yourself in his living room, dress hiked up to your waist as he devoured you. 

Sex with Javi was easy, mindless. For a while, his body served as a refuge for you after shitty days at work and arguments with your overbearing mother. A lone beacon in the fog, he was always more than willing to help you forget the stressors in your life. And your own name.

It was passionate, and filthy, and sticky — left your legs trembling and your head dizzy — each and every time. 

With him, you didn’t have to talk. Didn’t have to think. It was just sex, with no strings and no labels. Your relationship, if you could call it that, was perpetuated by the transcendent pleasure you felt in the spaces between words, when your mouths were preoccupied.

But when your birthday came and went and you found yourself another year older, an aching feeling settled in your gut — a feeling that time had begun to pass more quickly than it used to. And on its heels came the desire for something more, something you knew Javi was not willing to provide: a relationship.

The decision to end things was mutual, amicable. It was the easiest “breakup” you’d ever gone through. Maybe because it wasn’t a “breakup” at all.

A few weeks later, you’d met Nathan, a law student with a polite disposition and an eagerness to settle down. He’d treated you well, the type to open doors for you and ask about your day. On all fronts, he was a good man — a little boring, but good.

After a month, you made it official. After two, he moved into your place.

And you stopped thinking about Javi, about the way his large hand had fit perfectly around your throat, the way he’d been able to coax you to orgasm in two different languages. No, you only thought about the man in front of you, the one with the steadily growing collection of argyle ties and the unstamped passport.

Sex with Nathan was admittedly different. He didn’t make you cum as quickly or as easily; your body didn’t crave his with the same amount of fervor it had Javier’s. But it was loving, sweet, what any woman would want…should want.

And it was normal that you thought about your ex sometimes when your current partner laid his weight on top of you, that you imagined a different mouth slotted against your neck or on your tits. Because certainly, everyone did that every once in a while. It was harmless.

As long as you never uttered his name out loud, he’d remain only in your head, lost to time to exist there forevermore.

But then came the day in the grocery store, on your date to the cereal aisle to restock Nathan’s favorite, bran flakes. He’d materialized like a ghost of good sex’s past.

You didn’t dare speak to him, didn’t trust yourself to. Under the bright fluorescent lights, you’d felt your palms begin to sweat, your throat constrict, eyes glued to the selection of boxes in front of you. But while Nathan debated between store brand and name brand, you’d snuck another cautious glance at him.

Javi’s expression was unreadable. He’d looked between you and Nathan as if he were trying to solve a rubix cube. One he was becoming increasingly frustrated by. He’d gripped the handle of his shopping cart so tightly, the skin on his knuckles appeared near translucent.

And then he’d disappeared, tiny wheels on the carriage screeching, noise barely audible over your pulse.

The first text came later that night.

Are you seeing someone? it’d read.

Yes, you’d replied. But that doesn’t mean we can’t talk. 

You’d quickly established ground rules: messages would only be exchanged after midnight, never two nights in a row, no calls, and — most importantly — Nathan would never find out.

Okay, Javi had said. Just one more rule: don’t use his name with me.

To your right, Nathan snores, the singular catch of an inhale in his throat, and the noise jolts you, face heating as if you’ve been caught.

Then he shifts, turns on his side, away from you. You feel a strange wash of relief. A semblance of privacy that you shouldn’t be after.

You respond to Javier with your tongue between your teeth.

You [2:04am]: thinking about me doing what?

Javi [2:06am]: Riding me. Your tits in my face. My hands on your ass.

 Your breath catches, attention abruptly pulled to the incessant throbbing between your legs.

You definitely shouldn’t sneak to the bathroom and touch yourself. Shouldn’t send Javi a grainy photo of your fingers in your panties. Shouldn’t make yourself cum with your ex-lover’s name on your lips.

Not for the third time this week.

But when your cunt inadvertently clenches around nothing, your judgment is suddenly clouded.

With one last glance at the sleeping form beside you, you clamber to your feet and tiptoe down the hallway, wetness dripping down your thighs as you go.

The bathroom door closes with a quiet click. You fumble for the lightswitch, eyes reflexively squeezing shut when the room brightens. 

You hover over the sink, steadying yourself against porcelain with one hand while you type furiously with the other.

You [2:10am]: yeah? you wanna suck on my tits?

The mirror parallel you reflects something out of a thriller, your pupils fully dilated and your forehead glistening with sweat. You almost don’t recognize the woman staring back at you in all her depravity.

You slump to the floor. Rest with your back to the side of the tub. 

Javi [2:11am]: Dying to. Always felt so fucking perfect in my mouth.

Desperate fingers slip under the hem of your shorts, into your panties. The phone balances precariously in your other hand, thumb stumbling over buttons on the keypad.

You [2:12am]: I miss your cock.

Javi [2:13am]: That’s right, querida. Best you ever had, huh?

You [2:13am]: Yes. Always made me feel so fucking good. 

Javi [2:15am]: Fuck. Are you touching yourself?

You swirl two digits at your entrance, amply coating them in your slick before dragging them up to your swollen clit. You can’t stifle the moan that slips past your lips.

You [2:16am]: yes

Javi [2:16am]: good girl

The phone distractedly tumbles from your grasp, clinking against tile as you begin to work yourself toward the brink.

And then — there’s a knock on the bathroom door.

The room spins, walls suddenly shrinking in on you as you wrench your hand out of your panties. Nathan’s voice on the other side is muffled, by the exhaust fan and by the ringing in your ears. But you can just decipher his words, his voice laden with sleep.

“Babe? Are you okay? I thought I heard-“

“Fine, I’m uh, I’m fine,” you say, scrambling to your feet, wiping wet fingers on your shorts.

The doorknob jostles, and it dawns on you then that you’d forgotten to fucking lock it.

 “No! Don’t come in,” you sputter. The door hitches, less than an inch cracked. “I just had a stomach ache, but I’m okay now. I’ll be back in bed in a minute.”

“Oh.” He yawns. Pulls it shut again. “Okay.”

You brace yourself against the sink, struggling to slow your racing heart. 

With a flush of the empty toilet, Nathan’s footsteps recede down the hall and out of earshot. You wash your hands, then, fingers shaking under the stream of lukewarm water.

You dry them hastily, not bothering to pick up the towel when it slides off the rail and onto the floor.

You [2:21am]: gotta go. sorry. 

Javi [2:22am]: ???

Nathan is far too kind the following morning. He sets a plate of buttered toast and a mug of peppermint tea out for you on the kitchen table, and presses a nauseatingly gentle kiss to your forehead as you eat.

His amber eyes scan you like he’s searching for any indicators that you’re still hurting, fingers anxiously carding through his sandy hair.

You’re sure he’s clocked the dark circles marking your undereyes — not that he knows the real reason for them.

“I’m fine,” you promise when you feel him staring.

“Are you sure?” he probes. “The noise you made was…intense; you sounded really pained.”

Pained? Not exactly.

“I know.” You stuff the last bite of toast into your mouth. Tilt the empty plate toward him.

“But I’m okay; see? Even have an appetite this morning. It was just a weird bug or something.”

The lie burns on the way out, scalds your throat. But Nathan buys it. Doesn’t ask any further questions.

Still, he tells you to take it easy today on his way out the door.

You can’t look him in the eye when you insist that you will.

You call out of work, too sick with self-loathing to show your face in the office. Instead, you mope around all day, attempt to distract yourself with the overflowing hamper of laundry in the closet.

It’s futile though, your brain paralyzed by thoughts of Nathan finding out about the affair, and the clothes remain unwashed.

He returns that evening with a plastic bag in his clutch, the local pharmacy’s logo printed on the front.

“Here,” he says, pulling out a brand new heating pad. “I realized last night that we didn’t have one of these laying around.”

You know, at that moment, that you need to end things with Javi.

Nathan is good to you. He loves you with actions, not just words. Thinks of you before he thinks of himself, in every situation. And you — you’re cheating on him. Taking advantage of him. Not even trying to be what he deserves.

You’ll try harder. To love him, to think of him. No longer will you give in to brainless, animalistic needs. Surely, you can mimic the passion you have with someone else if you just try. 

Try, try, try. You can do it.

Sleep evades you that night, coming in brief stints and leaving you breathless when you wake. 

In those conscious moments, the analog clock in the corner of the room taunts you, glaring red neon making your head pound.

After three straight hours of tossing and turning, you decide it can’t wait any longer.

You fish your cellphone off the nightstand. Snap it open.

You [3:23am]: We need to end this before things get ugly.

You’re sure he won’t be awake this late; not without reason. But then — the screen blinks.

Javi [3:24am]: Nothing’s going to get ugly. Please, cariño. 

You [3:24am]: I almost got caught last night. I don’t want to hurt him.

Javi [3:25am]: Can we talk about this? Javi [3:25am]: In person?

Your heart palpitates. For a moment, you swear it stops altogether.

You [3:26am]: What the hell? No Javi, I can’t.

Javi [3:27am]: C’mon. Just talk. Don’t you think you owe me that?

Your eyes flit to Nathan. 

You watch him for a long moment: the steady rise and fall of his chest, the slouch of his shoulders, the gape of his mouth.

He’s well and truly asleep. You’re sure you could sneak away without him waking. Slip out the door and get a cab to Javier’s, talk things through, and be back in bed before the sun rises — before Nathan even knows you’ve left. 

And then everything will be just as it was before you messed this up. You can leave Javi in the past, where he belongs. 

Of course, you’re not just going to talk. Deep in your bones, you know that. Know that when he’s there in front of you, you’ll be too weak to resist any of his advances.

Still, you play coy. Ignore the spring of excitement tightening in your abdomen. 

In a move of finality, one which you know you won’t be able to come back from, you stand. Make your way into your closet to pull some pants and a t-shirt on, your cell phone clutched in your hand. 

You [3:30am]: Fine.

Javier sends you his address — as if you’d have forgotten it. As if the name of his apartment complex isn’t permanently etched behind your eyelids, along with the wide slope of his shoulders and the plush of his bottom lip.

When the cab pulls up to the curb, the driver is visibly concerned. His bushy, gray brows thread together and his narrowed eyes catch yours in the rearview more than once on the drive across town.

It’s only when you reach Javi’s building and hand over your fare that the man speaks.

“Are you alright, sweetheart? Quite late for you to be out on your own.” 

His voice crackles, the smell of cigarette smoke heavy on his breath, and it’s strangely comforting. 

“Yeah,” you promise as you push the door open and step out.

He rolls his window down, anxiously watching as you maneuver your way to the front door. And then he’s driving off, headlights vanishing into the thick night.

Javier lets you up on the first buzz. He’s waiting for you in the entryway of his apartment, leaning with a large hand pressed to the doorframe.

Your mouth goes dry at the sight of him: shirtless, bronze skin cast in the dim yellow light of the corridor. 

His eyes rake over you the moment you’re in front of him, lingering when they catch on your collarbone, your breasts, your legs. He looks so imposing like this. You find yourself unable to move; frozen under his silent, lustful gaze.

“Are you — can I come in?” you ask meekly.

He nods then, a slow lift of his chin. Steps backward into darkness. You will yourself to take one step, and then another, following him over the threshold and past the point of no return.

It feels so odd to be here, in his space, with the intention of doing anything other than fucking. If you look close enough, you swear you can make out the shape of your body imprinted in the couch cushions, can hear lingering echoes of climaxes reached with your face shoved into one of his decorative pillows — can feel them, too.

Arousal pulls between your thighs. You ignore it.

You wonder how many other women have been here since you, have taken Javi in their hands or their mouths or their cunts. How many names that aren’t yours has he chanted in the throes of passion? 

And — moreover — why do you care?

You don’t. You definitely don’t.

Javi pours you a glass of wine, fills a crystal with whiskey for himself. He flicks a lamp on, casting the room in an orange glow, and settles into the couch You follow his lead, perching yourself on one of the arm rests apprehensively.

“So,” you start. “About what we’ve been…doing-“

He cuts you off with a quirk of his brow, a flinch of his jaw. 

“Javi,” you try again. “This has to — we can’t-”

“You’re sure you want to break it off, cariño?” His voice comes out low, dark.

And the thing is — you’re not sure. You wish you were, wish you had the strength to tell him definitively that it’s over, to go home to your boyfriend and block Javi’s number on the way out. 

But the flex of his bicep when he hooks his arm behind his head, the knowing smirk playing on his lips, his cock — which you can’t see, but know is long and thick under his jeans — it all makes your head feel heavy. 

You let the weight of it drop between your shoulders, hang there as you silently search for just a particle of sanity left in your being. You come up empty. 

“Fuck,” you hiss, claw your fingers into your scalp. “This is — fuck.”

Leather groans under Javi’s weight. He stands. Steps in front of you.

You don’t dare look at him, not until he pinches your chin between two fingers and forces your gaze to meet his. His eyes are charcoal-black, something devious swimming behind blown pupils.

“Baby,” he croons. “Why did you really come here?” 

You play dumb. “What do you mean? To — to talk.”

His thumb skates along the underside of your jaw, soft and placating.

“We’re not really gonna talk — are we?”

Your head spins, mind clouded by Javier’s words, his touch. You sense yourself losing resolve just as he pulls you upright by both hands. 

You’re so close like this; can taste the whiskey on his breath, can feel the warmth of his exhale against your skin.

His mouth moves to the shell of your ear, voice a mere whisper when he speaks again.

“Wanna know what I think, querida?” he asks, palm flattening at your lower back, pushing you flush against him. “I think you came here because texting wasn’t enough anymore, huh? Think you missed me.”

And the truth is, you have missed him — painfully so. You’ve missed the timbre of his voice, the caress of his hands, the stretch of his cock. All just in reach, tangible for the first time in so long.

Your need for him borders on carnal. The feeling snakes its way up from your stomach into the cavern of your ribcage, splays its weight across your delicate, pounding heart. 

And then the rational part of your brain whirs weakly to life.

What are you doing?

“I have a boyfriend,” you say. You’re not sure who you’re reminding. 

“Mhm,” Javi mutters, deft fingers peeling the fabric of your t-shirt up, up, up your body. You don’t stop him.

“And does your boyfriend —“ he kneels down, presses a kiss where exposed skin meets denim — “make you feel as good as I do, cariño?”

You can’t answer that. It wouldn’t be right. Because any of this is.

“Javi — I,” you try, cut off abruptly by dull teeth in the flesh of your waist. You yelp, the sweet sting quickly dissipating as he pauses. Pulls back. 

“You can say it,” he goads with a wicked smirk. “I won’t tell him.”

“He — no,” the words leave you before you even feel them in your mouth, and then you’re cursing yourself. You can’t take it back — it’s too late. Javi knows, you know. The only one still in the dark is Nathan. 

Javier says your name. His tone is different, soberingly serious. 

“Tell me to stop.” 

Fuck. 

“Tell me to stop,” he repeats, “and I’ll stop.”

“I can’t,” you whisper, so quiet you barely hear yourself. 

“Cariño-”

“I can’t,” you stammer, louder. “I — fuck, Javi. Please.”

“Please?”

He knows what you’re asking for; he just needs to hear you say it.

“Please fuck me.”

In an instant, he’s standing back up, grasping at your sides and impatiently guiding you onto the couch. He brackets you against the cushions, one hand splayed next to your head on the backrest, the other popping the button of your jeans open. 

You lift your ass as he tugs them down your legs, pulls them past your ankles and leaves them in a heap on the floor. And then he’s moving down your body, kneeling at your altar and prying you open for him.

You surrender to him willingly, desperation growing when he pulls your panties aside and gazes at your glistening sex, transfixed by you.

“This gorgeous pussy,” he hums, leaning down to taste you.

“Yeah?” you breathe. “You miss it?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he groans. Dips his tongue into the apex of your heat, refamiliarizing himself with your nectar before licking a languid stripe up to your throbbing clit.

You writhe under him, beg with wordless whines and whimpers for more. He knows your sounds, knows their tells, soothes you with a gentle shh against your cunt. 

His lips wrap around your clit, then, envelope it completely as he starts to suckle, and the sudden sensation makes you buck your hips.

“Javi — fuck, oh — holy-” 

He retreats, mouth shiny with your arousal. “What is it, baby? Your boyfriend doesn’t eat your pussy like this?”

“He doesn’t,” you admit breathlessly. Javi clicks his tongue. Faux-pouts at you. 

His lips reattach to your clit and you curse.

“Fuck, Javi, he — he’s never-“

The half-admission stops him in his tracks. He stares back up at you with narrowed eyes.

“Cariño, don’t tell me he doesn’t go down on you?”

Your face heats. “He — he says he doesn’t like to do it.”

Suddenly, Javi looks livid.

His fingernails dig into the meat of your inner thighs mindlessly. You watch his lip twitch and his eyes roll to the ceiling.

He’s unaffected by much these days — but Javi clearly doesn’t take kindly to a man not pleasuring his woman. Especially when you are the woman in question.

“Pendejo,” he murmurs. 

“Javi,” you whine. “Please.”

Your pleading voice seems to snap him out of it. Or at least remind him of the task at hand.

He returns his attention to your dripping pussy with one final huff. “Gonna take care of you baby, don’t worry.”

You anchor yourself with fingers of one hand twisted in the dark, sweaty curls at the crown of his head. Two digits on the other pinch at one of your hardened nipples, just as Javier begins to swipe his tongue back and forth over your clit.

“Fuck,” you sigh, draping your trembling legs over his shoulders. 

He licks your cunt like he fears you’re going to melt, lathes over your clit again and again with the wide flat of his tongue. The wet squelch of him slurping at you, eager to catch every last drop of your arousal, bounces off the walls obscenely.

You hope, fleetingly, that his neighbors are heavy sleepers. Better yet, that they’re out of town.

Maybe he’s putting in extra effort because he knows now that your boyfriend isn’t doing this for you at home. Or maybe he’s just better at it than you remember. Regardless, you find yourself completely overcome with ecstasy, close to falling apart on Javi’s tongue in a matter of minutes.

As soon as he curls two fingers into your cunt, you’re gone, cumming so hard your vision pulls and your thighs shake.

You sing Javi’s name like a hymn. It rolls off your tongue effortlessly, naturally. Like it’s made for you to recite.

He lets you come down, soothes you with gentle hands stroking along your thighs, soft lips pressed to your sensitive mound. 

When your breathing evens, he lifts off of his haunches, motions for you to lay flat on the couch with your neck supported by the armrest. And then he shucks his pants off, his cock immediately springing up to his stomach, a trail of precum dripping down his navel.

You’d forgotten how gorgeous it was — the heady, pink tip shiny with arousal, veins running along the underside of the thick base prominent. It twitches in interest as Javier leans down to kiss you, prods against your slick inner thigh when his tongue presses into yours.

You hook your legs around his back, desperately attempting to pull him closer, attempting to drag him into your achingly empty cunt.

He grins against your lips, hand moving between your bodies to guide himself to your entrance.

“Impaciente,” he mumbles.

You whine, nails digging into his shoulders. “Please Javi, need it.”

“Yeah?” He pauses with his cockhead right at your seam. “How bad?”

“Fuck — so bad, need it so bad.” Your nails burrow deeper into flesh. He hisses.

“God damn, querida; that much, huh?”

“Yes, Javi,” you groan. “Please just-”

He bottoms out in one deep thrust, effectively knocking the air out of your lungs. You moan in unison, his head falling against your shoulder as he slowly begins to move. 

Your cunt sucks him in greedily, clenching around him over and over again. It’s intoxicating, the feeling of his cock nudging your g-spot with every roll of his hips. You wonder how you went so long without this. Fear you won’t be able to again.

He pulls all the way out and snaps into you before setting a new, brutal pace, one that leaves you babbling underneath him. 

The room grows palpably warmer, white heat licking at your neck, your chest, your back — where it sticks to leather. You find yourself lost in the way your bodies move together; a dance you’ve done so many times before; one you’d perfected all those months ago. 

“Shit,” Javi slurs. “Take me so well, cariño. Like you’re — ahh — made for me.”

I am, you want to say. 

“Fuck,” you moan instead, “so good, baby. Feels so fucking good.”

And it does. You’re going to snap soon, going to cum for a second time, soak his cock.

You tighten around him, a silent warning. He slips out and you whine at the loss. But then he’s hiking your legs over his shoulders, spreading you wider for him and delving back in at a new angle that makes you scream.

You can feel it building now, like a snowball in your abdomen. You can’t fight it, can barely warn Javi, his name spilling brokenly from your throat as your orgasm crests.

He talks you through it with praises whispered in your ear. So beautiful, princesa — that’s it. So pretty when you fall apart on my cock. There you go; let it all out, baby.

Fucked-out and boneless, you beg for Javi to please cum inside.

He growls, low and primal, gripping tightly to the flesh of your waist as his thrusts begin to falter. “That what you want, querida? Want to — shit — want to go back to your boyfriend with me dripping out of you?”

“Yes,” you chant thoughtlessly, yes, yes, yes. 

“Dirty. Fucking. Girl.” he grits, each word punctuated by a jerk of his hips. 

He spills inside you with his teeth in the crook of your neck. There’s so much of it, filling your cunt, leaking out around his cock and onto leather. It sates you in a way you didn’t know possible, as if your womb needs to be claimed by him and only him. Nobody else will do.

You almost resent the feeling of your eyesight returning and your breaths steadying. You don’t want to come down — not if it means you need to go home.

But the sky outside is turning purple, bruising with the threat of a new day on the horizon, and you know your time together is nearly up.

“Javi,” you mutter, his chest still heaving against yours, cock softening inside you.

“Up.”

He shifts, pulls out in a devastating loss, and retreats to the opposite side of the couch.

You begin to knead the muscles in your aching calves, Javi fumbling with the pack of cigarettes on the side table next to him. He takes one out and lights it, the end glowing faintly.

“What do we do?” you ask. He rubs at the crease in his forehead, definitely set there by years of chasing after drug cartels. Maybe also by running away from meaningful conversation with you.

“You can’t go back to him,” he mumbles.

You scoff. “I can’t? I have to Javi, Nathan is my-“

“Don’t say his name,” he snaps, abruptly ashing his cigarette and turning to face you. He looks wrecked, his eyes wide and his lips downturned. 

“What do you want from me, Javi?” you bite, pulling your panties back into place and reaching for your jeans where they lay on the floor. “You want me to be at your beck and call forever? Cheat on him until one of us dies?”

“I —“ Javi sighs. “No.”

“Then what?” You pull your pants on: one leg, then the other. Pull your shirt back down to cover your breasts. 

“I — want you.”

You nearly choke on your own saliva.

“What?”

“All of you,” he clarifies. “When I saw you with him for the first time in that grocery store — my heart sank. I didn’t — didn't realize how serious my feelings were for you. Fuck, I shouldn’t have let you end things that day.”

He stands. Braces pleading hands on your shoulders. 

“I know I’m an asshole,” he continues. “I thought I could never be someone’s partner. That I wouldn’t…wouldn’t be good. How could I be when I’ve done so much bad in my life?”

You sink into his touch. His words.

“Javi-“

“No, cariño — I need you to hear this. I want to be good for you, know I can be. I’ll do anything. I just — I can’t let you get away again.”

You feel as if you’ve just been struck by an arrow. Or, more accurately, a train. Your bones hurt and your insides twist.

You’re silent for a long moment, watching as his eyes desperately search yours. You know you need to say something eventually, put him out of his misery, but you’re too afraid to find out what happens next.

The undeniable fact that you want to be with him too is almost too much to bear. You’ll have to break it off with Nathan, split his heart in half. He doesn’t deserve it, you think, over and over.

But then, maybe you don’t deserve to remain unhappy. Unfulfilled.

Maybe you need to hurt him once in order to stop repeatedly hurting yourself.

“You’re good, Javier,” you say then. “You’re a good man. You deserve good.”

“Yeah?” his voice cracks. Tears prick in the corners of his eyes. He retracts them with a deep breath in.

You grab the sides of his face. “Yes. And I — I want you too.”

Javier kisses you, so deep you think your lips might bruise. There’s finality in it — you’re his and he’s yours — and no longer will you pretend that’s not the case.

He drives you back to your place, unwilling to let his girl get in another cab alone before daylight.

Laredo looks beautiful at dawn, all dozing buildings and empty roads. You pass by your workplace and groan at the realization that you’ll have to be back there in a few hours; you can’t call out again. A stack of unfiled reports will surely be waiting for you atop your desk.

That dread doesn’t last long, though, not when you look to the man in the driver’s seat, the one who makes your mouth water and your heart skip.

When he catches your gaze, corner of his mouth turning up at you mischievously, you know for certain that everything will work out just fine.

Javi turns onto your street slowly, moreso than he needs to, a possessive hand gripping your thigh.

“Will you let me know how it goes?” he asks when the car pulls up to the curb.

“Yeah,” you sigh. “I mean, I think it’s safe to say it won’t go well, but-“

“I know. But if he gives you any more trouble than he needs to, you call me.”

Your eyes flit up to your bedroom window, blinds drawn up and curtains pulled aside. The room is still dark, Nathan no doubt still asleep.

You’ll go up in a second.  After you kiss Javier one more time.

He seems taken aback when your lips catch his, maybe because it’s crazy to do this here, now. But you can’t help it. Can’t keep your hands — or your mouth — off of him now that you have him.

He relaxes into it after just a second, licking into your mouth to deepen the kiss, his hand moving from your thigh to the back of your head to hold you against him.

And then — he abruptly pulls away.

“Shit,” he curses, staring wide-eyed at the window.

You follow his eyeline, freezing when you see what he sees: Nathan, tall and shadowy, looking straight at you.

“Well,” Javi laughs nervously, “I think he knows.”

end notes: ty so much for reading! pls consider reblogging and/or leaving a comment if you enjoyed :)

tag list: @janaispunk @kajashe @amanitacowboy @planet-marz1 @littlegrungegirlaf @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @wethairjoel @catchallfangirl @pamasaur

[soullumii]

carry out | javier peña x f!reader

javier peña x afab!reader

summary: javier’s messy way of dealing with business causes the two of you to work late. he offers to buy you carry out to apologize for making you stay late (and, more reluctantly, for making you miss the date you had planned). then he offers something else to make it up to you.  warnings: 18+ content mdni, smut [oral sex (f receving), unprotected piv], soft!javi, smiley!javi, sassy!reader, praise kink (for both reader and javi), javi likes to please, pet names (chiquita, baby, querida, sweetheart, angel), lots of uses of the word ‘fuck’, might be a little ooc?, no use of y/n. word count: 5k-ish?

inspired by carry out by timbaland

---

The last time you looked out the windows of the U.S. embassy, the sky was fading from blue to a pale orange. Now, when you peek up from the mountain of paperwork in front of you, the stars are the only thing visible, everything else bathed in darkness.

You can't remember the last time you actually went home on time from your job as a secretary. It had to be before Peña and Murphy started working here. With them around, your overtime hours stretched longer and longer. 

It’s for a good cause, you remind yourself. Because, truly, it is. Catching the Narcos is top priority. It’s just hard to remember that when you’re drowning in paperwork and have to cancel the plans you had made a week ago for this shit.

“Look, I’m really sorry again. It’s still crazy over here,” you apologize into the plastic transmitter for the second time this evening, twirling the curly wire around your finger. The first time you called your date was a couple hours ago when you had to relay the unfortunate state of your situation: multiple things to do and not nearly enough hours in the workday to do them. Thus, staying overtime.

“No worries. We can go out tomorrow instead.”

You smile, “Thanks, Michael. That sounds great.”

You hang up the phone and the moment it hits the switch, your expression transforms into a deep frown. You send the most withering glare you can manage to the only man left in the room and the cause of all your problems: Javier fucking Peña. If looks could kill, yours would, but unfortunately, they cannot. And Javier doesn’t even seem to notice, his nose buried in his own respective papers. The hard line of his brow is furrowed over his dark eyes, the skin between his brows pinched in a way that makes you itch to smooth it out. Not for his benefit, but for your own, because it is awfully infuriating.

His normally perfectly coiffed hair is curling over his forehead, ruffled a bit at the edges as if he’s been anxiously running his hands through it, and one hand twirls a pen between his fingers while the other is pushed up against his temple. Seems like the long hours are getting to him, too. 

Good.

“Michael again, huh?” Javier comments, still staring down at his documents. His pen scribbles on a notepad. “He’s… clingy.”

You staple a few papers together, and if the stapler clamps down a bit harder than you mean it to, you can hardly be at fault for that.

“If that’s clingy, I worry about the women you’ve been with. They probably thought you hated them.” You retort, not looking up. 

“Quite the opposite, angel.”

Arrogant bastard, your mind supplies. 

You don’t grant him the satisfaction of a response, focusing instead on the work in front of you. And you want to scream. Or cry maybe. Because this is literally all his fault. 

If it weren’t for the shit he bothered you with earlier, and the multiple times he interrupted Ambassador Noonan, you wouldn’t be here trying to play catch up—rescheduling all the meetings she had to miss and filing reports for the classified information Javier “stole” from the files room, to which you did not give him permission to take, but still received shit for anyway. 

And, of course, you received shit for “letting” him in. Which you did not do! He had just waltzed in, hours after you had told him multiple times that he was not allowed in and that you were not allowed to let him in. 

You glare at him again, and this time he’s looking at you, a single dark eyebrow raised. 

You’d quite like to strangle him. 

“You gonna tell me what these looks mean or am I just supposed to guess?” He asks, bemused. 

“I’m mad at you,” you grit.

“Really? I couldn’t tell.”

The papers in your hold crumple as your fingers tighten. You can hear your molars grinding against each other as you try to hold back your anger. This fucking asshole—! 

“Is this about earlier?”

“Yes. It is.”

He sighs, setting his pen down. “Look, we really needed to get that information and I already said—“

You interrupt him again with a barely concealed snarl. “Sure, right. You’re sorry, and you needed it, but I’m always the one that has to deal with the fallout, while you go prance about and fuck whores and get congratulations. And now we’re here late and I had to cancel my date and I’m so behind.” You bury your face into your palms with a groan of exasperation.

You peek through your fingers to glare at Javier again only to notice... is that …guilt reflecting in his brown eyes? Gods above, you didn’t think he was capable of feeling that emotion, or any, for that matter.

(You know he is. There had been a few times at the local bar with Steve, or in the parking lot after a late shift when he had shown the other side of him. When he’d talk about his family, or life back in the States, you saw something other than a flirtatious smirk or a tense look on his face. Something softer. Warmer. It was…disarming. And terribly addicting.) 

Even so, this whole situation is because of him, so you push away the instinctual urge to forgive him just to wipe that look off his face.

Javier stands, straightening his papers and shoving them in a manila folder stamped with the word “CLASSIFIED” on top. You drop your gaze back to your work, trying to drown out the sound of him packing up.

Yeah. Fine. You go home, while I’m stuck here. 

You’re almost able to read the words swimming in front of you when you’re interrupted by Javier leaning over your desk on his elbows, his leather jacket stretching audibly over his broad shoulders. He drops your coat down next to him on the polished mahogany and you tilt your head to regard him with suspicion, a snarky remark on the tip of your tongue.

He beats you to the punch. 

“Are you even getting anything done anymore?” He asks, gesturing to your papers. You’ve reread the same paragraph about five times by now, you think. 

“Actually, yes—“

He rudely interrupts you with a crooked grin. “Don’t lie to me, sweetheart. You’re terrible at it.” He taps your coat with two fingers. “Come on.”

“But I’m not done y—“

“I don’t care.” He interrupts, again. “I want to get out of here and you need to get out of here. Seriously. Let’s get something to eat, I’ll pay for it to make up for my shitty behavior.”

You stare at him in genuine surprise, jaw slack. “Wow, the Javier Peña can actually admit when he fucks up? I’m in shock.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not a complete ass.”

“That’s debatable.” 

He frowns. “Do you want food or not?”

“Are you threatening to go back on your word? That’s low even for you, Peña. I’m pretty sure when you’re in debt to someone you’re supposed to be treating them with respect—“

He grumbles and turns for the door. “Never mind about the empanadas, then.”

Your chair audibly screeches over the tile flooring as you jump up, slinging your jacket over your shoulder. “Wait! I’m coming.”

You try your damn best to ignore the amused smile on his face that, to your chagrin, makes him look rather handsome as you follow him out to his Jeep Cherokee.

“If I had known food won you over so easily I would’ve used that a long time ago.” He jokes as he turns the car on. You buckle yourself in.

“Yeah, well, don’t expect me to be so eager next time. I’m only accepting this because I was deprived of my meal tonight.” 

He pulls out onto the road. 

“Sorry you didn’t get to have a date full of awkward pauses and subpar food, sweetheart.” 

You scoff at his audacity. "Goes to show how much you know about enjoying something other than sex with a woman."

"I know how to take a woman out on a date," he insists, glancing at you.

"Don't lie to me sweetheart, you're terrible at it," you echo his words from earlier back at him with a saccharine smile.

“Ha ha. Very funny.”

After a moment, he finally speaks again, tone genuinely sincere. “I hope you know I really am sorry for everything and making you stay late."

It takes you by surprise, and you meet his stare. His brown eyes look almost black in the darkness. A shiver travels up your spine. 

His eyes should be illegal.

You clear your throat, straightening in your seat. “Yeah, well, we’ll see if I forgive you after my food.” 

He chuckles at that, “Okay.”

Eventually he pulls the Jeep into the parking lot of your favorite local place (how did he know?) and then you’re standing in line to order. It’s ten at night and somehow there is still a line. Well, it is your (and everybody else’s) favorite for a reason. 

Javier manages to convince you to bring your empanadas back to his place. 

“We live right next to each other.”

“All the more reason for me to go home.”

“I have dessert. I’m trying to make it up to you.”

“Ugh, fine.” 

(You really don’t mind it. You just like to give him a hard time.)

So you order carry out.

His keys jangle as he unlocks the door to his apartment, and he sets the containers of carry out on his coffee table. He shrugs out of his leather jacket, and you do the same, trying not to stare at the way the sleeves of his button up stretch tantalizingly over his biceps, nor at the way his strong forearms are on display. 

Listen. He might annoy the fuck out of you, but you can admit that he is quite...attractive.

“Make yourself at home. Want a drink?” He asks, already grabbing two glasses.

“Sure, whiskey is fine. Since I’m assuming that’s all you have.”

“You know me so well.”

You look around his apartment and notice it's sparsely decorated, which makes sense to you, although, it still feels cozy in a way. 

The lamps reflect a gentle warm hue over the barren walls, save for a few government installed abstract paintings. Somehow, compared to your apartment in the same building, his place feels more comfortable. 

There’s a hand-knitted afghan sitting over the back of his couch and you twist the fraying yarn between your fingers as you admire the handiwork. 

“My abuela made that, before she died.” Javier says gently, handing you a glass of whiskey. 

“It’s beautiful.” 

“Yeah. She was really talented. This was the only thing I wanted to take with me from the States.” He takes a sip from his glass. 

“Did she knit a lot?”

He nods. “All of the time, it felt like. Can’t remember the last time I didn’t see her in a rocking chair, a ball of yarn at her feet.” He muses, and these are the moments with Javier that you crave. You wish you had more of them. The way he softens when he gets that damned smile on his face… the way the crows' feet around his warm brown eyes deepen... It's, as you said before, terribly addicting.

You smile gently. “Where’s all her work now?”

“With my dad. He hardly let me go with this.” 

You chuckle, and then Javier’s gesturing to the couch. 

“Come on.”

You follow him over to the couch and he settles down into the cushions with a sigh, resting an arm lazily across the back. You sit perched awkwardly on the end. All of a sudden, the room feels too small. It smells like him, like tobacco and sage and… man. 

You’re finally realizing how close you’ve been to him this entire evening, and your body is certainly realizing it too. 

See, this is why you had a date tonight. 

“Relax,” he tells you.

“I am.”

“You’re not,” he leans forward, a smirk growing on his lips. “I’m not gonna bite, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

You scoff, but a stubborn flush works its way into your cheeks. “No, ‘course not.”

You grab your container and Javier follows, and soon he’s got the TV on and you’re both enjoying your empanadas with the gentle noise of the Price is Right in the background. You relax into the cushions, your exhaustion encouraging you to do so before your brain can stop you.

It’s nice though. He’s… nice. 

“Hey," Javier eventually mumbles into the space between you. 

“Hm?”

“I’m gonna make sure the guys don’t come after you again for the bad decisions I make."

You roll your head to look at him, eyes narrowed in disbelief. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “It’s about time I took responsibility for the shitty things I’ve done."

“No truer words have ever been spoken.” You deadpan. It earns you a quiet chuckle, and you smile, turning your attention back to the TV.

You polish off your empanadas, licking the juices and bread crumbs from your fingers, and you think you see Javier watching you raptly out of the corner of your eye, but then you blink and his eyes are on the TV, as if he’d never been looking over at you in the first place. 

Damn, you need to sleep. 

“So,” he clears his throat, “Is this better than the date with Michael would’ve been?” 

You groan dramatically. “Why are you so bothered by him?”

“‘M not.” He says, but it sounds unconvincing even to your ears. “Just curious.”

“Are you jealous, Javi?” You grin into your glass of whiskey, the alcohol pouring warmth into your bloodstream, along with that heady, outlandish, and fleeting thought of him actually being jealous, maybe even possessive over you.

You really need to sleep. 

“‘Course not. Just want to make sure our little secretary is treated right.”

“I’m hardly treated right at work, this guy would probably be a step up from the people that talk to me on a daily basis.”

“I hope you don’t mean me.”

“I especially mean you.”

He sighs heavily, his head falling back against the cushions. He levels you with a pleading look, lips in a pout. “Come on, chiquita. When will you forgive me?”

Chiquita. That’s new. 

You tap your chin, glancing about as if in thought, attempting to ignore the giddy feeling curling in your stomach at the pet name. “I dunno…You still haven’t convinced me that you’re truly sorry.” 

Of course he has. You just like to stir the pot.

“No?”

“Nope,” you pop the ‘p’ dramatically, grinning smugly as you tease him.  “You’re missing the whole groveling and begging on your knees, bit.”

It’s a joke. Seriously. You think he'll just laugh, wave it off, and then you’ll actually forgive him. But that’s not what happens at all. 

Because he’s slowly lowering himself to the floor, all while keeping strict eye contact with you. The air rushes out of your lungs in a single, astonished, harsh exhale. 

“What…what are you doing?” You breathe, because seriously, what the hell is he doing? 

“Groveling. Isn't that what you want, chiquita?” 

He places himself in between your legs, and you really should be pushing him away, but instead your legs spread to make room for him. The movement has his eyes darkening significantly. 

Fuck. What are you doing?

“Javi…” You whisper, eyes wide.

A large, warm hand comes up to grip your right calf, massaging your muscles gently with thick, strong fingers while the other kneads at your left ankle. His lips press up against your leg in a soft kiss. 

“Let me show you how truly sorry I am,” he whispers against your calf, chocolate eyes boring into you. Heat licks at your core in white hot flames. 

Okay. Okay, wait, this is actually a really good way for him to repay you. He had deprived you of potential sex, but now is offering it to you on a silver platter. 

Still, you hesitate, remembering his reputation. 

“Javi, I don’t know… I don’t want to be another notch on your belt.”

He shakes his head, brows furrowed, his voice rough with sincerity. “You’re not. You never will be, you’re so much more than that, querida.” He reassures you, laying another soft kiss against your skin, and a shiver rattles your spine. “Wanna make you feel good…wanna make up for what I did..."

You take a shaky breath, warmth fanning out over your body. 

Fuck, this could either be a really good idea, or a really bad idea that could fuck up your already fucked up work relationship. 

But shit, if you aren’t wet right now…and he really does have some apologizing to do…

“Okay…show me.”

He sighs into your skin, his smile in relief edging on a satisfied smirk. “Thank you, chiquita.” 

And then he’s pushing your pencil skirt up your thighs with his big hands, eyes raptly watching the way your skin is revealed to him, like carefully unwrapping a gift. Soon enough your skirt is pooled around your waist, your throbbing cunt trapped behind the lace of your black panties. Javi sucks in an appreciative breath, eyes scanning every inch of you.

He pulls at the elastic hem of your waistband, then releases, letting it slap against your skin, and looks up at you with barely concealed disdain, though you can tell it’s not directed towards you. “These for Michael?”

“Maybe,” you mutter, trying to ignore the way his possessive question sends tingling heat through your core. 

He tsks, squeezing your thigh. Why are his hands so goddamn big? “Now I'm glad I kept you late. He doesn’t deserve to see you like this.”

“Oh like you do?” 

“Chiquita, I know I don’t. Still, who's in between your thighs right now? I bet Michael doesn’t even like to eat pussy.”

“Javi!” You scold, embarrassment traveling up your body. He just smirks.

“That’s certainly not the tone you’re supposed to be using with my name. Let’s fix that.”

He maneuvers his hands to grip your lower back, and he scoots you to the edge of the couch. He inches his fingers beneath your panties and slowly peels them off of you, pupils dilating when he notices the slickness of your cunt.

“Fuck, baby,” he mumbles, “you’re soaked.”

“Yeah, well, it’s been awhile.” You grumble, clenching around nothing at his words. 

“You sure it’s not just because of me?”

“Positive, Peña.”

He leans in, warm breaths puffing over your aching core. “Mm, I love it when you’re mean, baby.” 

And then he’s licking a hot stripe through your folds, and your hands that hold you upright jolt to his dark hair, threading the locks through your fingers. You sink into the couch on a high pitched whimper. “Javi—“

“Yeah, there we go, that’s it,” he hums against you, smiling into your pussy, and the vibrations travel through your spine, sending a wave of pleasure crashing into you. 

His cockiness should make you mad, but all it does is make you crave him more. 

He presses in, licking again, this time into you, and the tip of his curved nose bumps against your aching clit, releasing a wrecked moan from your lips.

“Shit,” you huff, eyes screwed shut as he continues to lap at you. “Remind me next time to ride your face—“

He stops his ministrations to look up at you, pupils blown wide, his glistening mouth curling wickedly. “Next time?”

“We all know men are prone to making mistakes,” you tease. “It’s just a matter of when. And when you do, I'll need another apology."

He goes to respond, but you tug on his soft hair, urging him back into your warmth. Whatever response he has is muffled into your slick, and he’s lapping you up like a man in the desert, moaning graciously. 

You feel him start to pull back, and you open your eyes, glaring down at him. “What are you—“ Your protests fade into a moan when you feel two long, thick fingers slowly slide into you. Your head falls against the back of the couch. 

“I knew you were a brat at work but I didn’t think you’d be the same in bed.” He jokes quietly into your thigh, thrusting his fingers in and out of you. They reach so much farther than yours do, and it feels so fucking good. God, you really needed this. 

“Different from your usual whore, hm?” You quip in between moans. 

“Yeah, I like it though,” he admits. “Could get fuckin’ addicted to your attitude and this pussy.”

You should be embarrassed by the new wave of slick running down his fingers at that, but you’re not. If he claims he could get addicted, you know you already are. You’re craving your next hit and Javi needs to be the one to give it to you. 

He seems to know what you want without you having to say, leaning in to wrap his lips around your clit again. 

You slouch into the couch, hips chasing his warm mouth, scooting you toward the edge. His other hand splays across your lower back, holding you upright, and you buck into him. You grip his hair, urging him closer to your heat.

You can feel your orgasm building, ebbing and flowing, like the waves of an ocean. Each lick and suck and prod from Javi paired with the skilled way his fingers thrust in and up and out of you feels like a tug from a rip current, threatening to pull you under. 

God damn, he’s good. 

“Fuck—hng—shit, Javi!”

“Mmhmm, taste so good, chiquita.” He moans against you. 

“Mmngh, fuck, need you—your mouth on me all—all the time. So good.”

He sucks on your clit as if in agreement, and your hips jerk, the muscles in your thighs and abdomen spasming, just on the edge of your orgasm. 

“‘m gonna come—Jav—“

He gently scrapes his teeth over your clit and—oh shit. You’re fucking gone.

Your orgasm punches the air out of you, exploding white hot, tingles zipping through your nerve endings. Warmth spreads across you like a roaring wildfire. You hardly register the moans leaking out of you in an endless stream, your body so overwhelmed with pleasure.

Javi’s moaning too, his other hand palming himself through his jeans as he laps up everything you give him. 

Your legs shake as you ride it out, and he gently strokes them as he licks you through your high.  

“Yeah, that’s it baby,” he mumbles against your heat. “So fuckin’ good for me. Look so pretty when you come.”

He doesn’t stop, continuing to lick you through the aftershocks.

You tug on his hair, pulling him off of you when you’ve had enough. “Okay…that’s enough, Javi.”

Javier laughs as extracts himself from your legs, sitting down on the edge of the couch. You scoot back to sit properly again, though you're practically boneless against the cushions.

Comfortable silence settles over the both of you as you catch your breath. He smiles at you, his dimple showing, and you smile back at him, your heart jumping in your chest. He looks like he thoroughly enjoyed himself, all ruffled and flushed. His dark hair stands up in multiple directions from your tugging, and his mustache glistens with your arousal. 

He looks so cute. Damn it! 

Angry feelings for Javier were normal. But these…lovey dovey-esque feelings simmering beneath the surface are not. 

You just can’t stay mad at him.

“…’Kay maybe I forgive you now.”

He raises a brow. “Just a ‘maybe’?”

You nod, eyes dropping down to where his cock is pressing hard against the zipper of his jeans, just begging to be freed. “Think I remember you mentioning dessert.”

He follows your line of sight and outright laughs, smiling so wide his eyes actually disappear. Fuck, why is he so cute? “I actually meant that—I have tres leches in the fridge but—shit, really?”

You shrug nonchalantly. “I mean, you might as well actually fuck me at this point.”

“Jesus Christ—okay.”

He pulls you toward his bedroom, but you both get distracted along the way. 

He finds your lips at the entrance to the hallway, pressing you into the wall and kissing you roughly, hands unbunching your skirt to find the zipper, uttering under his breath about how unprofessional the garment is. Once the metal piece is in his fingers, he tugs it down, pulling away to watch your skirt fall to the floor.

He loses his shirt next, at the door to his bedroom, with you scolding him about how you’ll call HR on the amount of skin he dares to show at work. You only unbutton it enough for him to be able to pull it over his head, and then your hands are on him, squeezing the muscles of his arms and scratching lightly over his tan pectorals. You run your fingers up the long valley of his spine as he kisses you, delighting in the way he shudders against you at your touch.

He tugs yours off next, choosing now to bite your neck with a teasing “Guess I do bite”, and running his warm hands along your waist and breasts appreciatively. 

You finally make it into his room and he’s pushing you onto the bed, climbing over you, still clad in his dark, too-tight jeans. Those need to come off. 

“Fuck,” he swears, watching as you unbutton his jeans, tugging the zipper down. Arousal floods through you as you palm him through his briefs, hot and warm and big in your hands. 

“Been thinkin’ about this for a while,” he says, voice rough. He tugs his jeans and briefs off then reclaims his spot over you, leaning down to mouth at your neck. 

“How long,” you whimper, head tilting to allow him access. You shiver at the feeling of his light five 'o clock shadow scraping your neck as he moves up to your ear. He bites gently down on your earlobe.

“Too fucking long.”

Your hand wraps around his thick, warm length, and he jerks, thrusting into your loose fist. He groans, a sound so wrecked it’s like he’s in pain, and you take that as the sign that you need to get things moving.

You direct the head of his cock to your entrance, your gaze catching his own. Heavy eyes framed by thick lashes watch your face scrunch in pleasure as he slowly sheaths himself in you. God you feel so full as he bottoms out, more than you have with anyone else.

“Been wanting this too,” you admit. 

He smirks, “Fuckin’ knew it.”

You roll your eyes, but then he thrusts into you and they actually roll into the back of your head as he pulses inside you.

“Fuck, Javi.” 

“That’s it, chiquita.” He grips your thigh, pushing it up to gain a new angle. And then he picks up his pace, fucking into you with abandon. It’s like you can feel it in your throat, his cock hitting deep inside you. You jerk against the bed, the headboard slamming into the wall rhythmically. How many times have you heard this through the wall being his neighbor just on the other side? And now it’s you in the place of the multiple women he’s had over. And you think, maybe, that he’s enjoying it more with you than he was with them. 

He’s grunting above you, moans and whimpers escaping his lips as he fucks you with all the skill and expertise he’s gained over the many years of fucking his informants. He’s louder than he was when you heard him with the others. 

And you…you’re louder than the many times you got off by yourself just on the other side of the wall. Moans and praises drop out of your lips unfiltered—you just can’t stop.

“That’s it, Javi–yes. So good. Fucking me so well.”

And he’s fucking…loving it. 

You can feel his dick jumping inside you with each compliment, and it sends a new wave of arousal crashing within you each time. 

He’s getting close, but so are you, everything is tightening, a catapult ready to sling you off the deep end.

"Javi—I'm—“

"Yeah, that's it, baby." His hand gravitates down to circle your clit. "Come for me, being so good—you deserve it after today. Come on—“

You deserve it.

That's what fucking gets you.

Heat and fire and light and everything heavenly bursts within you as you come on Javier's cock, muscles spasming as they rejoice in that fact that you're finally getting laid. You're practically screaming, back arching off the bed as you ride the wave.

And Javi's fucking you through it, trying to hold off. But you don’t want him to.

"Come in me, Javi."

“You sure?”

“Please.”

How is he supposed to deny you?

He comes right on command, releasing inside you, and the feeling is euphoric. He's warm and hot as he coats the inside of you, and...shit...

...how are you supposed to live without this?

He collapses next to you, and you both lay there for a moment, trying to catch your breath.

You turn on your side to look at him, but he's already watching you. His hand idly traces the inside of your arm.

You think you could get used to this.

"So," he says, dragging out the syllables, "forgive me now?”

You run a hand down his chest in thought.

“Hmm… I think I might need a little more convincing.”

He just grins. “You’re a fuckin’ menace.”

And then he’s reaching his hand up to cup your jaw and pull you in for a kiss much more sweeter and tender than before, as if this kiss is the real apology, and everything else before was just him buttering you up to prepare you.

If that’s the case, you accept it anyway, because you deserve it. And so does he. And you know he’ll just keep making mistakes—he’s only human, after all.

But at least he has a method to earning your forgiveness.

Oh, and carry out.

[bluebeary-jay]

If I could hold you for a minute

Javier Peña x f!Reader

Summary: Javier wants nothing more than to go home to you. And thanks to his partner's generosity, he gets to.

Tags: just pure FLUFF, mayyybe a sprinkle of suggestive humor, established relationship, Steve teases Javi a bunch, Javier is a BIG SIMP (i'm serious)

Warnings: none ♡

Word count: 3.3K

A/N: something different for you guys 🙈 i'm sadly still on semi-hiatus because of my finals, but I managed to finish this little fic as a break from my angsty Joel pieces. i reaaaally hope you all will like it 😌💕 also, it's dedicated to my dumbass in crime @lily-inbloom 🫡😘 luv you babes

This was one of the worst days agent Peña had in a long time, and he wanted nothing more than to go home.

First, two people from Escobar’s inner circle managed to escape the raid on the laboratory in which he and Murphy participated, leaving both of them exhausted and frustrated. Then Melissa gave Javier a bunch of shit because of some documents, and on the way to his desk some asshole bumped into him, making him drop and break his phone. And now they had to stay after hours to wait for Carrillo.

“It’s for you, Peña.”

So yeah. His day was shit so far.

His pity party was cut short when Steve sitting across from him hissed his name again. Javier shot him an irritated look and flipped him off, not in the mood to talk to any informants or their superiors.

“Not now, Murphy,” he grumbled, but his partner still handed him the stationary telephone from their desk, ignoring the hostility radiating from the man.

“Just take it, asshole. She’s worried you’re not answering her calls.”

At that, Javi sat up straight and in a split second took the handset from Steve, pressing it to his ear.

“¿Querida?” he asked quietly, paying no attention to Murphy rolling his eyes and chuckling to himself. There was a sigh of relief on the other end of the line and he furrowed his eyebrows in concern. “Is everything alright?”

“Hi, Javi,” your voice came through the receiver. “You weren’t picking up.”

Almost instantly the tension was lifted from Javier’s shoulders and he exhaled deeply. You had a talent of putting him at ease, even when you weren’t by his side.

“Lo siento, cariño. Some idiot broke my… you know what, it doesn’t matter. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, just wanted to ask when you finish work? I can swing by and we can go grab some food on the way home.”

He sighed tiredly, rubbing his brows. He hated saying no to you and if he could, Javi would give you the world on a silver platter – but some things, he didn’t have any control over.

“No sé, cariño. We have a shitton of papers to read with Steve, and we’re waiting for Carrillo to fill us in on the latest action. I’ve got no idea how long it’s gonna take, sweetheart.”

Steve lifted his head and shot Javier a teasing look, but Peña ignored him, turning his chair to the side.

“Alright, so what do you say I’ll bring you some takeout? You can also ask Steve what he’d want, I’ll be at this place we went to a week ago–”

“No, querida, no,” he sighed, this time with affection. Your voice was a temptation enough to throw everything to hell and run home to you, but to hear the kindness and love in your words, without even seeing your expression… It was heart-clenching. “We don’t need anything, you just go back home safely. I’ll try to get away from here as soon as I can.”

You didn’t answer at first, but then hummed half-heartedly.

“If you say so. But please, eat something.”

Javi smiled absentmindedly, covering his eyes with his fingers. He imagined your concerned expression, the receiver nestled next to your ear, near the spot he so liked to nuzzle with his nose. “How do you know I haven’t already?”

He could hear a trace of a smirk in your voice.

“I know you, Peña.”

“Too well, I think.”

“You love it, though.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, maybe.” He heard you yawn and the smile disappeared from his face. “You’re tired.”

“No, I’m not. I’ll get to bed when you’re back.”

“I won’t be home for at least a couple more hours, sweetheart,” Javi told you softly. “You can go to sleep.”

“I’ll wait for you,” you repeated stubbornly.

“You don’t have to.”

“I know, cariño.” There was that sweet, teasing note in your tone, and a grin spread across Javier’s face again. “But that will just give you more reasons to come home quickly.”

“I’ll try,” he just offered in a whisper, resting his forehead on his fist. “Call Steve if anything happens, alright?”

“Okay, okay, I will.” Long since gone were the times you’d argue with him about that. You knew how terrified he was at the thought of losing you. “I love you, baby.”

“También te amo.”

He didn’t immediately hang up, waiting just in case you wanted to add something else. The line went dead, however, and with his lips pressed Javi put the phone back in the center of the desk.

“You have it bad, Peña.”

Of course. Javier should’ve known Steve will start to nag at him again.

He reached into his pocket for a cigarette and put it between his lips. He knew you’d complain about the smell on his hair and clothes when he got home, but he was already too stressed out and in a desperate need of a smoke.

“I’m not in the mood, Murphy,” he muttered, pulling out the lighter.

“I thought a conversation with your sweetheart would brighten up your day?”

Javier looked up and just as he suspected, Steve had that same stupid grin on his face, like every time the topic was brought up.

Ever since your and Javi’s relationship became more serious, Steve was taking every opportunity to tease his partner. If Javi was feeling generous, he could kind of understand where his friend is coming from – after all, he himself didn’t think he’d ever act like a dumb teenage boy in the presence of a woman. But something about you mesmerized him from the very beginning, and, miraculously, here you both were, in a steady and loving relationship Javier Peña was always afraid of hoping for.

But alas, it was not a day to be understanding. He glared at Steve when the fellow agent didn’t take a hint.

“Shut up.”

“I wouldn’t say no to a food delivery, you know,” Steve spoke up with a smirk under his mustache. “I’m quite hungry.”

“I’ll sooner hire Escobar to make you sandwiches than let her do it.”

“You wound me, Javi. And to think I was about to take care of Carrillo and let you go home early.”

Javier looked up in surprise at his friend’s knowing smile. Then he blinked, slowly and tiredly, wondering if he didn’t misheard.

“Really?” he asked suspiciously, to which Steve shrugged.

“Why not? I’m in no rush since Connie and Olivia are in Miami, and as funny as it is to watch you yearn and pine, your brooding gets annoying after a while.” Javi didn’t move from his place, so Steve nodded in the direction of the exit. “Just go home to her, Peña. Before I change my mind.”

The face of the agent broke into a smile before he could collect himself. He stood up so quickly that he bumped his hip against the desk, but it didn’t phase him one bit. With a quick shove across the desktop, he swept all the documents to the folder and took his gun from the drawer, tucking it into his jeans.

Murphy was watching him with a smirk.

“You owe me, Javi.”

“Sure,” his partner replied over his shoulder, grabbing his jacket. “I’ll get you a sandwich tomorrow.”

A quiet laugh followed him when Peña promptly ran out of their office.

*****

After the call with Javi you tried to find yourself an occupation, intending to stay up as long as you could. He was working like crazy lately, sometimes not even coming home for the night, so a chance to finally spend some time with him – even if it would only be for half an hour – was something you didn’t want to miss.

So you wandered around his apartment. You read a little, watched TV, tidied up the cutlery drawer, folded Javi’s shirts, and now you got onto washing the dishes left from your dinner two days ago.

You were humming quietly, that stupid song which seemed to play on every radio as of late, when you heard a small sound from the hall. You paused and turned off the tap, your heart pounding in your chest, and sure enough there was it again – but this time you clearly recognized it as a key turning in the lock.

Before you could think of what to do, the door opened and Javi came in, locking eyes with you immediately. You blinked slowly, rooted to the spot with your hands lifted, still covered in water and soapsuds.

“Javi?” you asked in surprise. “What are you doin–”

Without saying a word, Javier came up to you in two long strides and put his hands around your waist, dipping you back and kissing you deeply. You made a noise in your throat, moving your wet hands aside, but then sighed contentedly as his lips caressed yours.

“I missed you, cariño. So much,” Javier murmured, not moving further away from your lips than two millimeters apart. “Couldn’t wait to get home to you.”

“But what about– Steve, and…” you tried to ask during those brief moments when he gave you a second to take a breath, but was unable (and unwilling) to move away when he was holding you so tightly.

“They’ll be fine,” Javier murmured, moving his hands to your cheeks to cradle them tenderly. “Steve said he’ll handle it.”

He firmly pressed his lips to yours one more time, his eyebrows scrunched with affection. You didn’t ask anything else, instead wrapping your arms around his neck, still careful not to get his clothes wet. After almost a minute of tender kisses and whispered Spanish phrases, Javi rested his forehead against yours with a content sigh. His eyes were closed and he just hummed when you nudged his nose with yours.

“You weren’t supposed to be home for the next few hours,” you said quietly.

“It was a damn torture. I couldn’t wait, hermosa,” he murmured and exhaled heavily. “God, I needed this.”

A bright smile spread across your face at the thought of this man thinking about and longing to see you so much. He sounded so stressed out and tired over the phone, but now it was like all nerves left him for just a moment.

“Do you want me to make you something to eat?” you asked in a whisper, but Javi shook his head.

“No. Just stay here.”

“I have to rinse the dishwashing liquid off my hands, though. And you need to take a shower.”

“Are you saying I smell?”

“A little. But I mostly mean the cigarette smoke on your hair.”

Javi sighed, murmuring something under his breath. You gave him a peck on the lips. “Go on, cariño. I’ll get everything ready and then we can lay down.”

Javier grumbled, displeased, but didn’t argue any further. “You’ll have to make it up to me, sweetheart.”

“If you manage to keep your eyes open.” Your comment made him crack a smile and you mirrored it. “Go shower. And then come back to me.”

Javi sighed but obediently went towards the bathroom, putting down his aviators and the gun on the table on the way there. You watched him fondly, your heart still swelling with love at how relieved he looked to see you. He must’ve felt your attention on him, somehow, because he turned around in the doorway and sent you a smirk.

“If you like the view so much, you can hop into the shower with me,” he teased, and you hummed, pretending to consider it.

“I would, but then it wouldn’t be a ‘quick shower’.” He smiled knowingly, and you scrunched your nose at him. “Javi, the longer you stand here, the less time we’ll have for cuddles.”

“You raise a good point, hermosa.”

With one last look he disappeared in the bathroom and you shook your head at his antics. A few seconds later you heard the sound of rushing water, so you hurried to your shared bedroom to get everything ready.

You pulled down the blinds and flipped the pillows to the colder side, and then swiftly changed into one of Javier’s shirts you liked to sleep in. You also took his gun from the table, knowing he preferred to have it within reach when he was resting with you.

Earlier that day you started to clean the cupboards, so the room was pretty messy. You spent a couple of minutes putting the piles of clothes and various knick knacks in their places, trying to be as quick as possible. Then you heard the water in the bathroom stopping, and it only took Javi two more minutes before he emerged from the bathroom in nothing but his boxers.

His hair was wet and chest bare, and exhaustion was marking his handsome features, painting shadows over his face. Without a second of hesitation Javi went up to you and wrapped his arms around your middle. You wanted to say that you’ll be done in a moment, but didn’t get a chance – he hid his face in the crook of your neck, grumbling tiredly, and started dragging you backwards to the bed. You swat at him with laughter, but those strong arms of his just held onto you tighter.

“Cariño, I still have to finish–”

“Leave it. You don’t have to do anything.”

“Javi…”

“Come lay with me, mi sol.” He softly pressed his lips to the sensitive skin on your neck, making you shiver. You felt him smirking. “Come on. Please.”

You faltered at this word, so rarely used by him. He sighed into your shoulder and swayed you two gently from side to side.

Javi was right. Everything else could wait.

You lifted his hand to your lips and kissed his knuckles gently, feeling him relax behind your back.

“Alright,” you murmured. “Come here, baby.”

He hummed and kissed your neck again, then your shoulder, sneaking his hands under your – technically his – shirt.

“Have I ever told you how pretty you look in my clothes?” he asked quietly.

“Every time I wear it.” You felt him take a breath, but you beat him to it. “And don’t say they’d look even better on the floor.”

Javi chuckled and hugged you tighter, still slowly moving backwards with you. “Not this time. Just wanna have you in my arms.”

“You mean in your bed?” You couldn’t help but tease him, and yelped when he bit your neck lightly.

“Don’t tempt me.”

When you two reached the bed, Javi stopped and slowly turned you around before sitting down. You took his face in your hands, staring down at him lovingly, while he gently ran his palms up and down your thighs. He did look tired, with the exhaustion and sadness swimming in his beautiful dark eyes. After a moment he exhaled shakily and leaned forward, resting his forehead on your stomach.

“Wanna lie down?” you whispered softly, and he nodded without a word. “Okay. Come here.”

You gently released yourself from his hold and laid down, immediately reaching for Javier and tugging him to lay on top of you.

The moment his head touched your chest, Javi exhaled heavily with relief, closing his eyes. You ran your fingers through his hair, brushing the wet strands aside.

“Do you need anything?” you asked quietly, but he just muttered 'no' with a light shake of his head.

“I’ve got everything I need right here, querida.”

You grinned warmly, though he couldn’t see it. “You’re quite a romantic, Javier Peña.”

He chuckled under his breath, lifting himself slightly to meet your adoring gaze. “I thought you already knew all about it.”

“Did I?” you asked playfully, to which he lifted his head.

“What more can I tell you?” he murmured, leaning over you and smirking when your breath hitched in your throat. His brown irises danced across your face, drinking your features in. “Do you wanna hear how all I think about while working are your lips and the sound of your laugh? How the time spent together isn’t nearly enough for me to fully revel in you? Or…”

“Okay, that’s enough,” you said sheepishly, making Javi grin victoriously. “You’re probably spending that time in the office not thinking about me but of ways to mess with me.”

“Tal vez, mi sol.” He pressed his lips to the corner of your mouth and moved lower, whispering into your skin. “But I do wish I could spend more time with you.”

“I know, cariño.” You brushed his hair to the back with your fingers, scratching his occiput. “But it’s not your fault.”

He hummed without conviction, still busy kissing every inch of your skin he could reach. One of his hands went to your waist, his thumb tracing small circles there, while the other climbed up to your hand, entwining your fingers together.

“Didn’t you want to get some rest?” you asked breathlessly, trying to keep your composure. Your face was hot, and Javi hummed smugly at the pitch of your voice. He lifted his head and brushed your cheek with his knuckles, his hand still holding yours.

“I wanted to spend time con mi hermoso sol.” He touched his forehead to yours lovingly, gazing deeply into your eyes. “I was serious when I said you’re all I need.”

“I think you need some sleep, too.”

Javi grumbled, seemingly giving in, and kissed you sleepily one last time. His eyes were already closing and his mustache scratched your skin lightly.

“No, querida. Just you.”

*****

The next morning, Steve came to work to the sight of Javier trapping you with his arms against his desk. He was leaving soft pecks on your lips every once in a while – so unlike the Peña Murphy had known before – murmuring something to you with a smile, causing you to giggle, too. You tried to slip out of his grasp, but Javier just pulled you closer. The pair was obviously lost in the moment because neither of them noticed Steve, until he threw a pile of files onto his desk.

“Morning, guys,” he said nonchalantly, eyeing your bashful beam and Javi’s crooked smile with a smirk. He noted that his partner looked way better than yesterday. “D’you get any sleep?”

“Actually, I did.” Javier gazed over at you and squeezed your hand with this look of a lovesick puppy that Steve mocked so often. “Don’t remember the last time I’ve slept so well.”

“Happy to hear it, because we have a lot to do today.” He sat down and began organizing the notes from Carrillo’s report yesterday, wanting to fill his partner in as soon as possible. He heard Peña sigh.

“Of course.” He glanced up to see the other man stand up and kiss you lovingly – once, twice – before you lightly shoved him back onto the armchair. Steve rolled his eyes when Javi brought your hand to his lips, leaving one last lingering kiss, and then finally letting go of you.

“I’m gonna be late because of you,” you accused him, but he only smirked.

“Lo siento, cariño. Have a good day.”

You said your goodbyes to Steve and turned back to the exit. Murphy shook his head and met his partner’s dark eyes, sparkling with adoration.

“You really have it bad, Peña.”

He didn’t receive any answer, so he just smiled to himself and got back to arranging his desk.

He didn’t get a second of peace, however, because suddenly a paper bag was dropped on the documents he was just filing. Two – a bit squashed – sandwiches were peeking out from the brown paper.

Steve lifted his head, ready to throw another teasing comment, but Javier’s eyes – still full of that raw love – were focused solely on your figure leaving their office.

*****

querida - dear/darling

lo siento, cariño - I’m sorry, darling/honey

no sé - I don’t know

también te amo - I love you, too

hermosa - beautiful

mi sol - my sun/sunshine

tal vez - maybe

[promisingyounglady]

go back to bed. | JP x Reader

PAIRING: Javier Peña x Pregnant Wife!Reader

SYNOPSIS: after a difficult nights work, javier just wants to patch himself up in peace. of course, you’re not gonna have it.

WC: 1.3k

WARNINGS: mdni! reader is afab, no y/n, mentions of pregnancy, weapons, javi getting mildly hurt, profanity, suggestiveness, little bit of angst but a lot of sweetness too;(

AUTHORS NOTE: reblogging and feedback is appreciated

The sound of running water is what wakes you up.

Your vision’s blurry from sleep, but you still make out the dimly lit room, a sliver of light peeking through the crack of the bathroom door. The sound of crickets chirping softly outside tells you it’s the early hours of the morning.

You hear shuffling, the obnoxious sound of objects hitting your tiles, and a quiet string of mumbled curses that you know belong to him.

“Mierda”

You blink softly, sitting up from your warm covers as your senses come together. More clanging of objects and a pair of scissors falling to the floor follows, and this time you paddle softly to the door, a shiver going up your back from only wearing a thin, white cotton nightgown.

You squint gently, pushing the door just enough so that you could confirm it was Javier.

“Fucking cheap ass bandages” you hear him mutter under his breath, struggling to cut the cloth with scissors, using his teeth instead.

With his broad back facing you, you make out a disordered array of disinfectant alcohol, medical supplies and gauze on your bathroom counter. You cross your arms, worried as you step closer.

Javi looks tired in his mirror reflection, brows furrowed and moustache in a frown as you watched your husband struggle with bandaging a fairly large cut on his right hand.

Your eyes widened at the blood.

”Javier.”

Javi looks up in the mirror, caught red-handed (quite literally) in the act of secretly bandaging his bloody hand so his very protective, and might he add, very pregnant wife didn’t freak out.

You stepped forward into the bathroom light, your large bump peeking through the nightgown you wore.

“Go back to bed, querida” he quickly says, hunched as he tries his best to hide the blood stained tissues beside him from your gaze. You sighed, knowing why Javi doesn’t like showing you.

“Ay, Javier” You spit harshly, waddling over as you scolded your tall husband who stands timid underneath your concerned gaze.

You snatched the rubbing alcohol from his hand. “You really want to make your pregnant wife mad by sneaking around with cuts and bruises?” It’s now your turn to furrow your brows and inspect his bleeding hand, shaking your head as you saw his fugle attempts at bandaging it up.

“Do you even stop to think how I feel when I see you get hurt like this?” You exclaimed, glaring at the man.

You see the pair of medical scissors lying on the bathroom floor, a few tissues and bloodied cloths with it. Despite being six months pregnant, you tried to pick up the objects, a hand against your back in support as you awkwardly shifted down.

Javier already feels too guilty that his heart hurts even more when he sees you struggle to perform basic activities. “Querida, querida, stop” he quickly bends down, swiftly picking up the lying tool with his left hand and putting it on the counter before you could.

You straightened your back, sighing at the sight of your husband on his knees, picking up the bandages as well as evidence of another one of his violent encounters with criminals as a DEA agent.

“I’m fine, I promise mi amor.” He reassures you softly, trying to say something that could make you use a different tone than the one you’re using one with him. “I bandaged it up earlier, but it just unraveled so-“

As Javi is eye-level with your stomach, you softly run your fingers through his hair, feeling his words stop and body tense at the action for a split second before melting into your touch. Javi shuts his eyes, pressing his forehead against your stomach and giving you and your child a kiss.

At least he was home. At least he was here with you.

“I know.” he breathes out amongst the silence. “I’m sorry honey.”

Hm, is all you reply in return, acknowledging that your husband knows he was wrong to give his pregnant wife such a scare in the middle of the night.

Javi looks up at you, big brown eyes searching for forgiveness in your own.

“I tried to be careful, I really did. But then the guy pulled out a knife, and-“

Your eyes widened softly before an unsettling feeling resided in your chest. Thinking of your husband being so dangerous to protect his country was conflicting. But it was for his people. As well as you and your child.

”Get up, carino” you say firmly.

Javier pauses, sighing as he obliged to your every word like it was his command.

Now your husband looms over you, right hand facing upwards with his makeshift bandages, as his left gently touches your back, pulling you closer to him.

You try not to let the endearing action cause your heart to flutter. You weren’t letting him slide so easily.

You bite your lip, frustrated at the fact that Javier continued to go on dangerous chases and stakeouts to catch Escobar, meanwhile you were sitting at home everyday with a dull ache in your heart as you envisioned your child not getting the chance to meet their father.

But seeing the bags under Javi’s eyes, along with the way he lowers his head quietly, you sigh and grab the stained cloth on the edge of counter. In silence, you took his large, rough hand into your soft one and patched his cut.

Javi knows better than to say anything at the moment. Instead he promises something you know he means more than actually committing. “I’ll be more careful”

You pressed the rubbing alcohol firmly in his wound, causing him to wince slightly.

“Damn right you’ll be” you mutter, protectively helping your husband.

Javier smiles at your actions, an overwhelming sense of love filling his heart.

“Murphy almost got shot if it makes you feel better”

You pause from cleaning up the medical supplies and his newly bandaged. You looked into your husbands eyes, pure shock and horror.

“By our boss, carino” Javier smiles. “The targets got away because Murphy was dumb enough to- AY“

You drown the sounds of your husbands laughter and words with a smack to the back of his head, cursing at him under your breath as you left the washroom with pursed lips.

Javier didn’t need to take many long strides to catch up to you, wrapping his arms around your belly, latching onto your sides and laughing as he tried to hold onto your tiny but furious form.

”es broma hermosa, I didn’t mean to-“

”Have fun sleeping on the couch, Peña” you swatted his hands away. Javier locks eyes with your waddling form before holding on to you and spinning you around swiftly in strong arms. Now standing in the dim bedroom, with your belly close to his body and noses almost touching, he looks at you with a hope of forgiveness in his crinkled eyes. The distance makes you hate him even more.

“It’s a joke my love, I’m sorry” he says grinning stupidly like a fool, only wanting to have seen you smile. You smack his chest hard, glaring up at him. “You’re an idiot, I hope you get shot next time”

Javier roars with laughter, unable to take your venomous words seriously when you looked so innocent and cute in his arms. In order to apologize, Javier bends down to kiss your lips.

However, you’re stubborn and shift your face away, trying your hardest not to smile as Javier tries to show his love to you.

“Javi! I hate you” you exclaimed, the pregnancy hormones making you meaner than you really were.

Your husband doesn’t mind at all, not when he cheekily sneaks a hand under your slip and grabs the soft mound of your breast. The action makes you gasp, Javier grinning in victory when you finally let your lips press into his.

God, did this man drive you insane.

[tightjeansjavi]

knead

A/N: so after rewatching Narcos all weekend and staring at the screen with big ole heart eyes for the infamous Javier Peña, I decided that he, like Joel, deserves nice things 🤍

~word count: 1.2k~

Summary: Javier Peña desperately needs a fucking break and to be kinder to himself <3

Pairing | Javier Peña x f!reader

Warnings: angst, mentions of guns, cigarettes, implied death(s) due to an unsuccessful raid, established relationship, fluff, hurt and comfort, Javi is incredibly hard on himself, takes place during season 3 of Narcos, both Javi and the reader speak Spanish, reader has no physical descriptions, no age gap, +18 minors dni!

Lo entiendo, hermano. - I understand, brother.

No lo entiendes, hermano. Nadie lo entiende - You don’t understand, brother. No one does.

No tienes que esperarme despierta todas las noches, querida. Tu sueño es importante también, cariño. - You don’t have to wait up for me every night, querida. Your sleep is important too, baby.

Jav, yo quiero asegurarme de que has llegado bien a casa. - Jav, I always want to make sure you’re home safe

Javi, No tienes que disculparte por nada. Por favor, mi amor. - Javi, please don’t apologize for this. Please, my love.

Siempre tan bueno conmigo - Always good to me

Te quiero con todo lo que pueda ofrecerte, cariño - I love you with everything that I have to offer, cariño

Te quiero más a ti, Jav - I love you most, Jav.

When he comes home, he’s still in his olive green tac vest. His hair is strewn about in a sweaty mess across his face. He reeks of gunpowder, stale tobacco, and disappointment. It drips from his pores and lands in a puddle at his shoes, once shiny, now dull, scuffed and speckled in blood. A failed raid. Innocence lost, and disappointment. So much fucking dissapointment that swallows Javier Peña alive.

An anonymous tip leading to more fucking bloodshed. So much for things being done differently this time around.

A hero? Hardly.

Javier doesn’t feel like a hero. Not when all he’s done is failed over, and over again.

We’ll get them next time, Javier.

Will we?

Of course. You know the Cali Cartel like it’s the back of your hand, Peña. We’re this much closer to bringing them to justice.

Justice? He laughs. If there was any justice in this world, I would be in fucking jail right now.

Lo entiendo, hermano.

Javier laughs, voice rasped in bitterness. He swings his keys around on his pointer finger, jaw ticked, muscles aching beneath the sweat stained fabric of his shirt.

No lo entiendes, hermano. Nadie lo entiende. Javier responds coldly and unlocks his car door before climbing into the driver seat.

He thinks hard on his failure the entire drive home. He doesn’t listen to the radio. He sits in silence, puffing away on a stress cigarette even though he swore he was trying to quit.

In the lowlight from the hallway, Javier is able to make out your sleeping mass under the colorful patterned quilt on his couch. He swings the door shut softly behind him and quietly locks it.

His back and shoulders are tense, aching with each step he takes. Another jab and painful reminder of his failure tonight.

Despite Javier’s protests, you always wait for him to return home. He appreciates this more than you realize. It’s his one sense of comfort that he feels he’s undeserving of.

No tienes que esperarme despierta todas las noches, querida. Tu sueño es importante también, corazón.

Jav, yo quiero asegurarme de que has llegado bien a casa.

The worn couch cushions gradually press down from the weight of his body as he slowly sits down in the unoccupied space between your covered feet. He winces when he feels that annoying pinch in his lower back and brings his hands over his face, dragging them down over his alquine nose with a heavy sigh. He pulls out his gun, badge, cigarettes, and lighter. He tosses them onto the coffee table and leans back just as you begin to stir awake from the sound.

“Jav?” You murmur softly and subconsciously reach for him over the blanket.

“Its me, cariño.” He rasps. His hand reaches towards you in the dark, finding you soon after. He laces his fingers through yours.

“Are you okay?” You ask softly, sitting up and facing him.

“No. I’m not okay.” He admits.

“What happened?”

He looks over at you through the darkness and shrugs his shoulders. “What didn’t happen.” He clarifies. His thumb skates across the back of your hand gently.

“Do you want to talk about it?..”

“No. I just..I’m tired, querida. I’m tired of failing all the fucking time.” He sounds exhausted. You know just how much his job truly weighs on him.

“Javier, my love, you are not failing all the time. You aren’t. No one thinks that you are a failure, Jav.”

He makes a snuffling sound through his nose that comes across more like a scoff. His movements cease when he feels your freehand grasp his jaw and pull him in close. Even in the dark, your eyes are soft, gentle, and laced with concern.

“Everyone tells me that I’m a hero, cariño. I’m not a hero. I’ve never been a hero.”

“Javi, you don’t have to be a hero. People mean well with their words. I know they do, but you have to try and not let it get to you this much. Okay? Javier, you have one of the toughest jobs out there. No one but yourself is going to understand how you feel. Whatever happened tonight, does not make you a terrible person, or a failure. You’re doing everything you can to take down the Cali Cartel.” You reassure him.

“I feel like I have to be the hero. Javier Peña, the dashing DEA agent that took down Pablo Escobar.” He laughed. “Cariño, I was told that this time things would be different, but they were wrong. Everytime I try to ensure that innocent lives won’t be lost, someone gets caught in a crossfire. A civilian. A child. An unsuspecting bystander. It weighs on me. It fucking weighs on me more than I’m willing to admit.” He said in an exasperated tone.

You saw the tears begin to brew along his waterline before he even realized he was crying. You detected the strain in his voice, and sprung into action. Your hand dropped from his face only to then pull him into a hug with your hand gently cradling the back of his head and your fingers slipping through his hair, nails scratching his scalp gently in hopes to soothe him.

His arms instinctively wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his lap so he could be closer to you. His warm palms slid under the thin fabric of your shirt along your lower back and he buried his face into the crook of your neck.

“I’m sorry.” He sniffled. “I don’t want you to see me like this, cariño.”

“Javi, No tienes que disculparte por nada. Por favor, mi amor.”

“You’re so good to me.” He kisses the exposed skin on your neck, the tips of his mustache tickles you as you hug him tightly, rubbing your hands up and down his back and shoulders in a soothing motion.

“And you’re good to me, Javier. Siempre tan bueno conmigo.”

He nuzzles you affectionately, wishing he could crawl inside of you and live there forever. “Cariño, can you do something for me?” He asks softly, dragging his lips across your skin once more.

“Anything, Jav.”

“My back and shoulders are fucking killing me. Can you—” you cut him off before he even has a chance to finish his sentence.

“Of course I can.”

He breathes a sigh of relief through his nose “Gracias, cariño”

He slowly drops his arms from around your waist so he can remove his shirt. He undos each button with meticulous precision and slowly slides the fabric down from his forearms. He lays his shirt along the side of the couch while you slide into the space behind him, with your thighs wrapping around his torso. He leans back into your touch, lashes fluttering shut when your hands work their way up from his lower back, kneading the tender strained muscles there.

You work your way upwards and pay close attention to the areas where he’s feeling the most pain. He murmurs praises in both Spanish and English under his breath when you slowly and delicately work through a particular nasty knot between his shoulder blades.

Your gentle, yet firm touch sends the DEA agent into a state of bliss, and he’s putty in your hands in no time.

Your chin comes to rest along the crook of his shoulder, pressing a soft kiss along his jawline. He hums and tilts his head to the side, finding your lips in a gentle kiss. A thank you. An I love you, and an I appreciate you can be tasted through the kiss. He rests his hands along your thighs that are wrapped around him, gently kneading the soft flesh with his strong, yet gentle hands.

“Te quiero con todo lo que pueda ofrecerte, cariño”

You smile against his lips, kissing him deeper while your fingers gently brush through the wispy tendrils of hair along his forehead.

“Te quiero yo más, Jav.”

Banners made by the lovely @saradika 🤍

I no longer have a taglist so please follow @tightjeansjaviupdates for fic updates and notifications.

[janaispunk]

jana hi me again 🫣 could i have the prompt 28 "No one ever cared about me like you."

with either javi p or joel 🫠❤️🤎

take my hand, wreck my plans

pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

word count: 557

summary: Javi seeks out your company after a rough day.

tags/warnings: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, alcohol consumption, mention of food, able-bodied reader, no use of y/n, idiots in love because of who i am as a person (let me know if i missed something!)

a/n: i have once again been possessed by angsty thoughts and somehow, this came out of it. i hope you like this eden @reddedmiller and i’m sorry that it took three months lol. thank you @catchallfangirl for beta reading 🫶🏻

dividers by @saradika-graphics as always because they’re the best <3

find my full masterlist here & follow @janaispunknotifs for fic updates :)

He knocks on your door at 2 in the morning, all but collapses into your arms as soon as you swing it open, tired eyes and heavy limbs that melt into your embrace.

Your colleagues had warned you when he started coming over to your desk, inviting you out for lunch, about how he would chew you up and spit you out, like he did with half of the female staff at the embassy. You hadn’t listened, waving them off and going out with him anyway. First for a quick lunch break, then for after work drinks, then for dinner.

It was fun, a distraction, something to do and someone to know in this city where everything was foreign to you and where you felt more alone than ever before in your life.

It’s more, now. It doesn’t have a definition exactly, but you both know it. You’re the person he turns to when he needs somebody, and you’ll gladly be that for him.

“Do you have something to drink?” His face is sullen as he slumps down on your couch, like the weight of the world crushed him today. You furrow your brow.

“When was the last time you ate something, Javi?”

“‘M not hungry,” he grumbles, confirming your suspicion that he most likely survived the day solely on cigarettes and coffee.

You lean over the couch, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders from behind. His head falls back against you like he can’t help himself.

“I’m gonna make you a sandwich and get you some whiskey, okay?” Inching closer, you press a gentle kiss against his neck, just below his ear.

He sits up a little straighter and turns to you, reluctance in his eyes.

“Querida, it’s the middle of the night, you don’t have to-”

You shake your head and kiss him again, on his cheek this time. “It’s okay. I want to.”

He leans back hesitantly but doesn’t seem to have the energy to fight you on it, so your lips find his face once more before you head for the kitchen.

Watching him all but devour the food has you hiding your smile behind your own glass of whiskey. He already looks a little better.

“Not hungry, huh?” you tease, your voice light.

“Shut up,” comes his short reply, but his lips are twitching.

He has half a mind to stumble out of your flat again afterwards, but you convince him to stay, that it’s really no problem.

He takes a quick shower, mumbling about washing the day away, and you wait in bed, the warm light from your bedside lamp illuminating the room, until he slips under the covers beside you.

You wrap your arms around him again and hold him close, your fingers drawing shapes on his chest. He clears his throat, shifting awkwardly.

“Thank you,” he eventually mumbles, his voice low in the darkness.

“Of course, Javi.” He tends to get like that, struggling to receive any kind of affection or care when he feels like he has nothing to give back.

He takes a deep breath and shakes his head. “No, seriously. No one ever cared about me like you. I- thank you.”

You sigh and pull him tighter into you, your face buried in his hair. You’ll care for him as long as he lets you.

thank you so much for reading! if you liked this, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment because they make me really happy 🤍

[devilmademewriteit]

Dark Paradise

part 3 of Salvatore

read part 1, Salvatore, here

read part 2, Playing Dangerous, here

pairing: javier peña x afab!fem!reader

summary: left alone in javi’s bed, you go looking for distractions. finding them only leads you further into his world: a world of danger and violence, where no one can protect anyone.

warnings: rough sex/smut (fingering, fem penetration, super SUPER light choking) so 18+ only content; pet names (cariño, hermosa, querida, sweetheart, baby) afab fem reader; reader is American; mentions of hair pulling; allusions to SA; attempted SA against reader (not by javi); violence against reader (hitting, slapping, manhandling); smoking; dubcon (power imbalance, trauma sex??).

word count: 7k+

no use of y/n in this fic

u guys. it is here. and the most exciting part is I can already promise u a part 4!! pls be mindful that this part is darker than the rest. it has many triggering themes, so many sure u read the warnings & stay on the safe side of things.

as always, love u all so effing much. feedback, reblogs, comments & asks are always appreciated, & don’t forget to join the taglist in my pinned post !

-em<3

—

No one compares to you. I’m scared that you won’t be waiting on the other side.

- Dark Paradise

“Girl, where did you go?”

You’re on the landline with Carrie, one of the few half-friends you'd made living in Medellín, thighs sore and bruised from the backseat-loving you’d received the night before. While Javi’s at work, you’re on (his words) 'house arrest,' and lounging alone in his apartment feels eerily quiet. The occasional car drives by—you try not to listen for the sound of scraping tires.

So, around 9:30, you’d decided to fill the silent space with a bit of vapid conversation, realizing that last night's antics (and your unexplained disappearance) may have caused a bit of confusion.

You start by filling Carrie in on the generalities: the guns, the car, and the rescue, at first planning to leave out the more… personal details.

Like the one you'd filed away under 'Riding a Cop to High Heaven in the Backseat of his Jeep.'

You also leave out the part where, afterwards, you’d kicked off your heels by his front door, let down your hair in a sloppy, half-drunk movement, made a beeline to the familiar crinkles and folds of his unmade bed, and swiftly passed out in his embrace.

Oh, to fall asleep between those arms for the rest of eternity.

Given your more cynical—okay, borderline self-denying—approach to life, you felt downright ashamed of how much you’d enjoyed it. How much you’d enjoyed him and all of his lasting touches.

And in the morning… Javi’s hardness biting into your hip was a more efficient wake-up-call than the trial nuke sirens back home; the soft kisses laid down the length of your neck and the long, lazy fingers creeping down your abdomen had you surging to consciousness with embarrassing speed. You’d shivered into wakefulness, flattened against his chest.

“Good morning, cariño.” His words were molasses, melted caramel, thick and damp with sleep.  

“Hmmmh,” was your only reply, sloping into your highest octaves as his hand sank to push aside your already-ruined underwear, dipping lower to toy with the switch only he knew how to turn on best. Arching into his spine, last night’s dress crumpled up above your waist, leaving him to feel more, more, more of you.  

“Thought it would take more convincing,” he breathed against your shoulder, a breeze of late august air.

“Wh’time z’it?”  

“We have time, cariño, we have time.”

When his digits pulled a moan from your lips, no other answers really mattered. He’d loosed that deep, guttural rumble of approval that made your chest swell with pride, your legs part in service and need.  

“Can you hold this leg up for me, baby? S’all you need to do.” He’d helped fold up your knee, and you’d turned to meet him with pleading, drooping eyes, dutifully contorting to mold into the shape of his body. “Perfect, baby, good job,” a rough kiss to your temple, “n’I can do the rest, hermosa—I’ll do the rest.”  

He slid in effortlessly, harmonizing to your sigh of relief with a “shit, s’wet,” and sheathing his cock between the folds of your morning slick. Brows furrowing, mouth falling open, you had every detail of your bliss etched on your expression, all for the beautiful man looming over you. “Always fuckin’ askin’ for it, huh, sweetheart?” He'd mused. “Woke me up moanin’ in your sleep, cariño—dreamin’ about last night?”  

An “mhmm,” was all you could muster. Javi’s hips rolled against your ass, and the resulting feeling of overwhelming fullness had you swearing you were still in reverie. When he paused, snaked his arms under your neck and around your waist, and pulled you flush against his chest, you remember it feeling like a dirty, desperate hug.  

“M’sore, Javi,” you’d whined at the stretch of your opening, the continued drag of Javi’s fingers against your aching, weary clit.  

“S’no excuse, baby,” he’d grumbled into the shell of your ear, pressing hard into that tender bundle of nerves. “Gotta get you used to it.”

A harrumph as he’d turned up the intensity, punishing you for your protests. “Y-you’re a mean-mean man, Javier Peña.”

Soft, gravelly laughter danced, twirled, traveled along the dip of your neck. “‘N you’re gonna come so hard for this mean, mean man.”  

He was right, bringing you to the brink of orgasm with the thick, rough pads of his fingertips, the tip of his cock sliding up and down, over and over, in and out of your guts.  

“Yeah—yes—m’gonna come for you, Javi,” you’d admitted.  

But he’d stolen his magical digits away, used them to turn your jaw, to square your face off with his own concentrated, lust-filled expression. “Show me cariño, yes—gonna be picturin’ that pretty lil’ face aaaaall fuckin’ day,” and you’d tumbled over the edge the moment he’d slid back down to the apex of your thighs, drowning in the darkness of his cinnamon-brown irises and the tantalizing circles—drawn from memory—against your clit.  

“J-javi—it feels—feels s-so good—”  

“I know, hermosa, s’just what you needed, fuck—”

He was already close enough, but your climaxing trembles and your whining, choked gasps had him wrapping his hand around your throat, pushing you further and further down the length of his tensing shaft.  

“Shit—you feel like heaven, baby, so good for me—”  

His release came fast and hard, leaking his hot spend into you, painting your insides like brushstrokes on canvas with his final thrust.  

He seemed to lay there for forever, softening between your walls as sweet slumber carried you off once more. “Go back to sleep, baby,” he’d advised against your shoulder (as if you’d needed any kind of encouragement), “Did such a good job; go back to sleep.”  

It was easy to accede to his command.  

You’d come to for a half-second as he’d placed, fully dressed, the clink of his belt and the crisp waft of his cologne rousing you to near-consciousness, a deliberate, lingering kiss to your forehead. “Don’t answer the door for anyone else, okay, hermosa?”

“Huh? Oh—mhm.”

And you’d vaguely registered a low laugh. “Good to know you’re so well behaved when you’re half-asleep.” His finger traced your cheekbone, dragged down to pull teasingly at your bottom lip. “Means I’ll have to keep fuckin’ you to the point of exhaustion.”

“Mhm—please." Squished and mumbled, guttural and breathless.  

Another soft laugh, and then echoes of receding footsteps.  

Waking up a few hours later, you’d peeled your sticky thighs apart, confused at first by the mysterious pool of wetness between your legs.

You didn’t bother cleaning it up, already feeling the loss of your DEA officer. You somehow chose to dial Carrie's number to kill some time on your day off (or else, you feared, you’d have quickly found another use for your bored fingers).

Being alone in his room leaves you feeling very young. Lying in his bed, thinking about the past night’s events… you feel giddy, like a highschool girl after her first time, and anxious, on edge without Javier’s protection.

You just want to gush about it.

“Do you remember that DEA agent? The Texan?”

You barely have time to finish your thought before Carrie’s cutting your question short.

“Sexy Javi?”

She giggles. You snort indelicately into the receiver.

“I never called him that.”

“You didn’t have to,” she returns. “I deduced it from the amount of times you ranted to me about his… callers.”

You fiddle with the telephone chord, smiling artfully to yourself. “I’m in his bed right now.”

There’s a slap. No doubt the sound of a hand clapping over a set of slack lips. And then—

“I thought he lived outside the city?!”

It’s a strange reaction. You’d expected something a bit more on-topic, confused at your friend’s preoccupation with Peña’s living quarters when you’d just divulged such an out-of-character, personal detail.

Well, at least the enthusiasm is there.

“No, he lives right by the embassy.” You respond, rolling lazily onto your side. Opening the top drawer of his bedside table, you grimace to yourself, taking in (on top of the empty bottle of men’s cologne and an old, broken watch) a box of tissue paper, a pair of handcuffs (not regulation), a smatter of sex toys, and a few scattered, unopened condoms. “That new… fancy building on the corner,” you continue, swiping a few tissues between your legs, trying not to giggle at the teasing Javi was in for tonight, “Carrie—are you seriously not gonna ask how it was?”

There’s a pause. You hear a rustle in the background; the sound reminds you of students in class, whipping out pens and notebooks.

Is she taking notes?

“Tell. Me. Everything.”

That reaction felt more appropriate.

It all comes bursting out of you—the night out, Javi’s rescue, your backseat escapade. Carrie’s an ideal audience, gasping and ‘oooh’-ing and ‘girl!’-ing at all the right moments.

When you get to the end of your tale, your cheeks hurt from smiling so much. Carrie pries for more and more specifics, keeping you on the phone for close to an hour. You don't give her everything (did she really need an approximation of his size?) but you do make sure to remind her, often, that Javier Peña was an excellent fuck.

Finally, the conversation dies down. Sitting up, you realize just how desperately you’re in need of a shower. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, the smell of sex, tequila, and Javi’s day-old cologne clinging to your skin, but his place gets hot, and you hadn't anticipated the need to pack deodorant in your purse during last night's going-out prep.

Either way, Carrie's become distracted, the length between your words and her responses growing with every passing minute. You notice a Spanish conversation taking place in the background, no doubt the reason for her decreasing attentiveness.

You’re about to hang up, launching into a polite, “alright girl, I’ll let you go” when she goes back in for more.

“Is he home now?”

She blurts it out, and you're a bit taken aback. Frankly, the urgency of her tone feels a little jarring.

“Um, no,” you answer, uncertain, stretching out your vowels, “I think he went in early today.”

“Good.”

Her clipped tone continues to confuse you. It’s… not playful anymore. It’s administrative.

Commercial.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh,” a flutter of shrill laughter, “Just wanted to make sure he’s not listening in on our—”

There’s a knock at the door before she can finish. You call out just a sec! automatically, pulling on your rumpled clothes from the night before as the receiver tumbles onto the unmade bed.

It’s only once you’ve lumbered over, wiped the grogginess from your eyes, once you’ve unlocked the door and twisted the handle—it’s only once your head is covered with a thick, scratchy fabric, once the world’s gone dark and a cry of surprise is wrenched from your throat—that you recall Javi’s warning:

Don’t open the door for anyone else.  

Something else takes over. Something primal. Fight, fight, fight. Find the flesh and punish it, scramble for purchase into any detectable, softer areas. Squirm until your legs give out, 'till your knees hit the floor and the beginnings of bruises scatter across your burning skin in a plethora of vulnerable places.

But when you thrash around like that, make sure your head doesn’t hit the doorframe.

Because then? It’s lights out.

—

The first thing you notice is the smell.  

Weed and tobacco. Wet weed and tobacco. It’s not a smell you’re accustomed to (you worked for the DEA, for crying out loud). It makes your already-pounding head spin, so it takes a second before you remember that you’re not safe—you’re not at home, you’re not at Javi’s, and you’re not with Javi.

Instincts kick in. Your stomach aches with fear, lighting you up from the inside, energizing every inch of your body. You wrench, pull, struggle against the restraints suffocating your wrists, binding your hands around the back of a rickety, wooden chair. You can’t kick at anything, either. Your ankles are crossed, squished on top of each other and secured by a firm length of (what you assume to be) rope.

And then the canvas is unceremoniously yanked off of your head, taking a few hairs from your scalp along with it.

You squint, blinking into the dim light, slowly adjusting to your surroundings: some sort of musty basement with concrete walls and floors, decorated by nothing except a couple of small, rectangular windows near the too-high ceilings. It’s completely empty—save for your company.

One, two, three strangers. All men. All Cartel, by the looks of them.

And all positively leering.  

The one nearest you, holding the bag in his hands, speaks down to you. It’s quick and harsh, mocking and cruel. Spanish and unintelligible.

Your hatred towards the captor blinds you; it coaxes the animal out of its cage. You spit: “I don’t speak Spanish, motherfucker.”

(Even if you did, the adrenaline coursing through your veins wouldn’t allow you much room for comprehension).

From the shadows, another man appears. He lumbers over to you, and you notice the peculiarity of his European-looking hat as he squats down to level with you.

He clicks his tongue, dousing you with a look of disapproval. “That’s not very nice, hermosa.”

You shiver. Javi had called you that before, many times. And even though it sounded totally different coming from this foul man’s mouth, shrouded under the veil of a thick, Spanish accent, it sticks.

You hold your tongue, biting it to keep from sobbing. The glint in his eye, visible behind his glasses, moves from playfulness to exasperated ire.

He sighs, stands, and grabs your hair, tilting your head back harshly to look down at you. “You’re very hard to catch, you know that?” He muses, darkness trickling across his features. “But you’re alone now, Americana. No DEA—no Javier Peña to protect you.”

He makes a mockery of his name, oozing cockiness as it comes spitting out of his smirk. You glare up at him, simmering anger and bubbling fear claiming you. Would they go after Javi?

No. They wouldn’t dare.

Only an American like yourself—low-value, replaceable, unnoticeable—was expendable.

“What do you want from me?”

He smiles, releasing your head and taking a step back.

“You’re the assistant, aren’t you?” And that deceptively sweet tone is back, frightening you more than his rage. “We need directions, hermosa. You’ve been in all the government buildings—we know, we watched you. Why don’t you give us some assistance,” he pauses, leaning down towards you, “And tell us where your evidence against Pablo Escobar is filed.”

You snort, unimpressed, shocked, and a little humoured by his little monologue. This was what they were after?

This was why you'd been fearing for your life?

A fucking… map?

“Find someone else. I don’t know shit.”

It’s honestly true. The bastards could not be barking up a more wrong tree. For all their criminal genius, they hadn’t managed to catch the fact that you really, truly didn’t give a flying fuck about the particulars of your job.

But if this was about Escobar—the Pablo Escobar—then these were men from the Medellín cartel. The same Medellín cartel that left scores of expendable bodies in its wake, that bombed, assassinated, and tortured government workers like they were no more than rats in a science lab.

You weren’t the end-all, be-all of this operation.

No, you were just another lead.

A lead that (only you knew) led to jack-all. Unless they were scrambling to learn about the best places to go out dancing or the worst brands of moisturizer, you had very little to offer the thugs.

The one with the strange hat—the ringleader, you decide—shares a smile with his co-conspirators, and you begin to regret the arrogance of your statement.

“There are many ways we can do this,” he warns, voice sloping down to a dangerous hum. “It can be easy…” and he lowers a hand to his belt buckle, setting every cell in your body on fire, “Or hard.”

It‘s a plea to God more than a question for your captor, your desperate, self-pitying: “Why me?” It can't be above a whisper, but the asshole responds anyway.

“It’s more enjoyable when we get to work with something pretty.” A dark laugh. “Who’s going to come looking for you, hermosa? Your family? Your friends? Your… government?” He clicks his tongue again, looking down at you in mock concern. “Like I said, we’ve been watching. You have a habit of disappearing. Running away.”

Figures.

Figures that the reason you’d wound up with your life on the line, your body in danger, was because of you. Once again, it boiled down to the lack of attachments you’d curated over the years, passing from one thing to another, quick on your feet the second they hit solid ground. For God’s sake, the only reason you’d made it this long in Medellín was because it hadn’t managed to bore you yet.

Figures that the closest thing to stability you’d been able to find was in the crime capital of the world. It was poetically honest, laughably ironic.

Of course, the American government would assume you’d fucked off—just another ditzy contractor swept up in the thrill of a south-American life.

The other part held water, too—no one would come looking for you. Your boss might huff about ‘these flighty secretaries, can’t hold ‘em down for anything,’ but beyond that, your disappearance would cause less than a stir.  

Somehow, that thought comforted you. The lack of collateral, the lack of another’s suffering… very little harm would befall the world in the wake of your absence. Peace was beginning to crest upon your settling soul. And, either way, you’d worked in this line of work for long enough to know that your death warrant had been signed the very second they’d seen you as a target.

You give the bastards what they want? You die.

You hold off? You die.

All things considered, you resign yourself, making up your mind.

Still, your defiant voice quivers as you say it.

“Fuck you.”

The ringleader smiles, like a predator cornering its prey, taking that first bite into hard-earned flesh. Your brain responds, screaming warnings in big letters, in flashing red ink. He barks an order to his underlings in Spanish, and the other two men come forward, roughly undoing the holds along your ankles, your wrists.

“Get the fuck off of me!”  

But they don’t listen, yanking you upright and shoving you onto the ground. Your vision becomes hazy. Something takes over, a protective instinct, perhaps, barring you from your own body. Distantly, you observe yourself fighting, but really all you feel is beyond. The words ‘I am not here, this is not happening’ wash over you over and over again, like a cleansing, salt-water wave.

Hands on cement. Clothes torn, destroyed—the cold barrel of a gun to your head, a man barking orders, hitting, slapping—and right as the worst is about to happen, everything just…

Stops.

It’s like they’re spellbound, bugs frozen in amber.

You hear the cause of it well after your torturers do. Footsteps upstairs, and gunshots, screams followed by the definite sounds of a creeping squadron.

The men get messy. Scrambling around, they gather their options. In your dazed periphery, you watch their eyes latch onto one of those open windows, 8 or 9 feet up from the ground.

A hushed conversation ensues. You're familiar enough with the more violent side of the Spanish vocabulary to string together their meaning.

“Shoot her? — no, the noise, they’ll find us faster — kill her? — too long — take her? — too messy — we have to go, we have to go, we have to go.”

Your ruined shirt is shoved down your throat, and then you’re gagging on it, ankles bound once more, shaking and naked on the freezing concrete. The trio uses the little wooden chair to frantically sneak out of the window.

It would be downright comical if you weren’t so terrified.

Soon, you’re alone, choking on cotton and wriggling to flatten your back against the wall. Centuries pass before the movement upstairs graduates to the basement below.

Relief doesn’t grace you. Any man—DEA, cartel, or Colombian police—would likely perform the same violence as your previous captors had planned to. A naked girl, roughed up and completely unprotected, in a dark, hidden basement, totally at their mercy… Shit. You were basically an invitation. A free meal, offered up to a different, hungry crowd.

You just pray that this one might be gentler.

The stairs creak under the certain weight of bodies in motion.

Tears run down the side of your face, dripping down from your temple onto the ground below. You compress into a ball, making yourself as small as possible.

The echoes grow louder, closer and closer. At this point, you just hope they’ll assume you’re an enemy or get trigger-happy and give you a quick taste of lead. Put you out of your misery.

Giving up was well within your comfort zone.

Someone gasps when they see you, and a single name hurtles through the space.

An out-of-commission part of your mind recognizes it—the name—knows it as a comfort. Still, you only tremble, trying to disconnect yourself from what must be a wishful, crafted, deceitful version of reality.

Then someone else comes forward. Your eyes, weary of keeping you in the dark, fling open just in time to watch a tall, dark-haired man push through the crowd of soldiers. You watch his expression—shock to rage, rage to relief, and then rage all over again.

He rushes you, falling to his knees before your wrecked form.

His first move is to wrench the fabric from your mouth. You croak out the most desperate sob of relief, all those stifled, unvoiced expressions of terror tumbling out in great-big-heaves.

“Are you hurt?” He asks.

“No.” You respond.

“Did they…?”

“No.”

Javi tears his big doe-eyes, filled with worry, away from yours, twisting to impatiently address the frozen crowd of four or five behind him. “Can somebody take these fuckin’ ties off?”

Switchblades slice through twine. Someone brings you a blanket, and Javi bundles you up in it, gathering you and lifting you in his arms. You don’t resist, clinging around his neck and hiding in the comfort of his shoulder.

“Hermosa—”

You regret the way you flinch. “Please—please don’t call me that anymore.”

“Okay.” He doesn’t ask questions, sounding a little softer, a little more unsure when he presses on, muffling the desperate edge to his tone. “Did you see where they went?”

“The window. Out the window.”

Most of the rest take to that almost immediately, scattering to start on their chase. Javi delivers a set of orders in his native tongue.

Then, he grows silent, carrying you through the house with two soldiers in the lead. “Close your eyes, okay? You don’t wanna see this.” But now that they’re open, you can’t seem to shut them. You only glimpse flashes of the upstairs area. Tables covered in paper, glass contraptions and coke, so much coke, which is almost more impressive than the quantity of blood splattered against the peeling walls.

And Carrie.

Carrie with half her brains hanging out, long, dark, red-soaked hair fanning around her crown like a rotten halo, lounging on the couch, fingers splayed and palms to the sky as if she were ready to wrap them around a glass of white wine—as if she were ready to catch up on girl-talk.

What’s Carrie doing here?

Should I ask her?

She’s dead.  

No, she’s not. She’s right there. She was waiting for me to be done so we could catch up. That’s just how she always sits—it’s just the scoliosis.

That’s why she always showed up so late to the club. She… she couldn’t dance too long because of the scoliosis.

You’re still debating whether or not Carrie would be up for a bit of gossip, another debrief, when big, strong arms lower you into the passenger seat of a Jeep Cherokee.

Javier buckles you in.

“We can’t go to your place—that’s…” and you trail off weakly, throat burning with effort. “That’s where they took me.”

He nods, his face a complete mask of concentration.

But you know him.

He’s holding everything back. You appreciate him for that, never wanting to hear a man shout for the rest of your cursed time on Earth.

“Steve’s, then.”

It’s your turn to nod.

—

Javier drives in complete and total silence, only speaking the occasional clipped sentence into his radio. Despite your vulnerability, despite your overwhelming gratitude, you feel guilty for taking him away from his work, from his team. For forcing him to rescue you once again.

For sure, he’s angry. Would he have to move? Find a new place? Leave all his stuff at the old one? Would a better captive have paid better attention, taken note of the exact direction her kidnappers had taken off in after clearing the window?

Soon, you’re settled against a couch, the light from the opposing window breaking in and dancing across Javi’s face. A blonde woman—fiery, familiar, concerned—hands you a glass of water.

Javi watches you, eyebrows notched together, lips drawn into a thin line as you take a slow sip in silence. The liquid slides down your throat, cooling and soothing the rips and tears there.

And they both won’t stop staring. Truly, their joint study makes you self-conscious, watching on with unapologetic intent as you shiver under the scratchy blanket.

Finally (thankfully), Steve's wife—Connie, you recall—speaks.

“You can go, Javi. I'll take it from here.”

“No.”

She looks borderline offended at his line in the sand.

“I don’t think she’s in any shape to talk, Peña.” It’s authoritative, protective, clearly marked with harboured resentment.

She'd make a good mom.

He scoffs. “I’m not gonna make her talk, Connie. Just don’t wanna leave her like... this.”

Connie looks confused. They share a glance, and an eventual understanding passes over her expression. In fact, even in your distressed state, you’re almost certain you catch a hint of a smile.

“Well if you’re both staying, we’ll need food.”

Javi nods absentmindedly, lighting up a smoke. You look away, still feeling the weight of his eyes boring into your ducked head.

She clears her throat. “I’ll be back in an hour or so. Remember to lock the door, Javi.”

Then, swinging her coat on, she traces an awkward line out of the apartment.

Silence flits across the room. The agent continues to study you from his seat at the counter across the room.

“Are you okay?”

You pick at your nails, internally asking yourself the same question.

“I’m just glad you were there,” you muster up, looking up at his softened, warm gaze. Concern etches a couple of fresh lines on his face.

Javi nods, taking a long drag. “Always, sweetheart. I’m glad I was there, too.”

You shiver at the thought of what could have happened if he and his team had showed up just a few minutes later. What shape he would have found you in, or if you’d ever permit yourself to feel the touch of a man again. Of anyone again.

“Why were you there?”

The question comes out of nowhere, bursting out the moment you realize that you hadn’t yet bothered to ask him how he’d pulled off yet another well-timed rescue.

It couldn’t have been in answer to your prayers—those had never worked for you before.

“Carillo’s been following Escobar’s cousin for a while. Zeroed in on the neighbourhood, but we spent all morning doing searches. Honestly,” he breaks off for a moment, rubbing at his temples, “It was just damn luck that we found you when we did. Wish I could say it wasn't, but it was. We were gettin’ ready to call it off. I had… no idea you weren’t at home.”

He blames himself for it. You can tell. In turn, you blame yourself for that—for his misguided, self-inflicted anger.

There’s more left unsaid.

“My friend—I called her this morning. From your place. She was there. She was… dead. I think.”

Javi doesn’t react, evidence of the years of gore, wreckage, and betrayal he'd witnessed.

You swallow, soldiering on.

“I told her. I told her where I was. Could she… could she have told them?”

Is she the reason this happened to me?

Slowly, lips pressed around his cigarette, Javi nods. “I’m sorry,” he barely mumbles.

Strangely enough, you’re not. That’s what you say: “I’m not.” And it’s true. “She was upstairs when it was all happening. I’m glad she’s dead.”

Now, he looks at you with a consideration that swells into a kind of respect. Not a respect, no not respect. A knowing. A new kind of understanding, of equal footing.

You meet him head-on with it, basking in your retribution, revelling in the immediate justice she'd been served. You’d mourn the person you thought she was when your wounds weren’t so open, so fresh.

"They wanted directions, Javi," you suddenly blurt out, voice hoarse, "Isn't that insane? They were gonna... they were gonna do that for directions. Not even the evidence, just fucking directions-"

Javi lifts his hands in the air, signalling for you to slow down. Normally, it would make you want to tear his arrogant head off. Now, however, you just do, although the silence isn't very comforting. After a moment, you can tell there's something Javi’s been avoiding, something he’s holding in. The agent clears his throat, finally calling it quits on his tiptoe-ing around the subject.

“Cariño," he begins, "I know you told me earlier, but I... I gotta be sure. Did they hurt you in… any way?”

God, he sounds so deeply wary, unable even to speak his fear into existence. You shake your head no, prompting his shoulders to relax.

“Okay. Good,” he breathes, crossing his arms and looking down at the rug. “Don’t think I could…”

Panic ripples through your frame.

'Doesn’t think he could' what? Bear to look at me, knowing the enemy had been where he’d been, done what he’d done? Touch me in the same grooves they'd left on my skin? Javi’s not that kind of man—is he?

“Don’t think I could forgive myself if anything were to happen to you under my watch.”

The rush of anxiety quickly dissipates, replaced by a stifling bloom of admiration and adoration across your chest. Like soft tendrils, warming your shivering body from within.

You smile self-consciously, scoff, and meet his eyes. “I wasn’t ‘under your watch,’ Javi. I opened the door. It was my fault.”

He raises his eyebrows, huffing a breath before ashing his dart, rising, carving a path towards the couch-cushion next to you and taking your glass of water from between your hands. It clinks as he sets it on the table. Taking your unsteady hands between his hardened palms, he coaxes you into meeting his golden eyes.

“It’s not your fault, herm—” a pause as he corrects himself, noticing your flinch, “—cariño. It’s not your fault.”

He waits for your nod of acknowledgement before pulling you into his arms. You let yourself go limp, dragged into the plushness of the couch and the firmness of his chest.

He lays a kiss to your forehead. He fidgets with your hair. He traces long, lazy lines up and down your spine.

How had you gone from that youthful giddiness this morning to this dark, anxious wreck in a matter of hours? It wasn’t even two o’clock yet.

The comfort your agent provides is good—will always be good—but you want more. Every inch of attention he gives you is just another step away from that cold basement, a foot towards freedom.

Time heals all wounds, and you want a distraction while you face those excruciating seconds. Something to move it along. Something to keep you busy, to keep the harrowing images at bay.

So you tilt your head up. Finding his lips, you press into him, shuddering when the rough hairs of his mustache tickle your top lip. When your body asks for more, when your tongue meets his and your hand drops to his thigh, Javi tenses, pulling back and breaking off the kiss.

“Sweetheart—you’re not in a good place,” he whispers, lovingly running his fingers through your hair.

You look up at him with eyes full of need, wordlessly begging him to give in. “I am now,” you assure him, tossing a leg over his hips and straddling his body. His expression darkens as you slowly chip away at his resolve, one touch at a time. “I’m with you.”

He smiles, plucking your hands from his chest. Every kiss he lays to your knuckles sends a ripple of electricity up and down your spine. “That right?” He muses between embraces. “That all you need?”

You nod, the pace of your shallow breaths picking up in anticipation. “When you touch me, Javi, it’s like you’re cleaning them off me,” you croon, leaning forward to brush your lips against his jaw.

“You’re in shock, baby,” but his hands defy his words, slipping down to circle your waist, “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

Slowly, deliberately, you lean back to stare directly into his heavy-lidded eyes. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”

You feel him tense at that, his body hardening alongside the weight building underneath your thigh. He lets you go on, deft hands pooling onto your hips.

“Get rid of them for me,” you plead, grinding down onto his bulge.

“Make me all yours again.”  

That does it.

His hands shoot up to your face, firmly cupping your cheeks between their heat. Then, Javi’s kissing you harder than before, warming your desire up to a feverish level. You moan into him, turning to putty in his grasp.

He peppers kisses down your jaw and up your neck, allowing you to clumsily untuck his shirt and undo his belt. It’s frantic and needy—it’s pure business. You free his length from the confines of his clothes, heavy breaths mingling when you look down in tandem, hungrily watching your small, delicate hand pumping up and down his cock.

“Fuck,” he groans, his dark crown of cropped curls falling back against the couch, “You make it fuckin’ hard to be a good guy.”

You smile, spreading the slick dribbling at his tip around the head of his cock.

God, the sight of him never gets old.

“Good guys listen, Javi,” you tease, managing to pull off an air of sultriness, “Not just to no—also to yes.”

A lazy, roguish grin spreads across his face. “You are feeling better, aren’t you?” and he knocks a squeal out of you when he cages you in his arms, flipping you over ‘till your back’s digging shapes into the worn-in cushions below. “Gettin’ mouthy already.”

You giggle up at him, but all of your noises dwindle when a few rough fingers push your torn, ruined underwear to the side. You grow especially wordless when one separates your folds and makes its way inside you.

Javi gives you his signature look of condescension, of mock pity.

“What happened, sweetheart?” He taunts, thumbing that aching bundle of nerves. “All the ways I’ve had my dick in you, just this—” he makes a point to curl his fingers towards himself, pressing against the most desire-stricken spot, “—‘n you can’t find your words?”

Your throat won’t open, choking around your own pleasure. Instead, you nod with enthusiasm, desperately clinging onto his forearm. “More.”

He quickly accedes, pushing another long and thick finger inside you. You shudder at the perfect sting—the stretch—as your opening hugs his knuckles. Javi mutters curses to himself, angry and lustful, supervising your writhing form.

“No one else gets to see you like this.” He speaks low, sitting up to work you with both hands. Your body responds without your permission; Javi clicks his tongue and shoves you back down when your hips buck up. “Don’t deserve it,” he continues voicing his thought as if no interruption had occurred, “I’d have to track ‘em down and kill ‘em.”

His tone goes beyond protectiveness, easily veering into the realm of the possessive. “I-I wouldn’t be good f-for them, Javi,” you manage, wanting to comfort him, to calm him, “Wouldn’t—wouldn’t listen.”

“Oh,” he smirks down at you, finally pulling his fingers from your soaked, ready cunt. “Like you listen to me?”

You spread your legs for him, shimmying down until he’s hovering right above you. He strokes himself, taking you in with hunger, playfulness and… something else.

Something like devotion.

A smile. You stroke his jaw. “You come harder when I misbehave.”

He shrugs and nods, a silent, ‘you got me there,' before lining himself up at your entrance.

You whimper, a pathetic, pleading sound, when the head of his cock finds your opening. “Then make sure to misbehave.”  

He rocks inside you, taking note of the way your jaw goes slack, hanging open, and the way your brow furrows, grateful eyes glazing over, showing high praise for that feeling of fullness.  

And he laughs to himself.

“Needy fuckin’ thing,” he coos, settling into a comfortable rhythm. “Beggin’ for cock after bein’ kidnapped. I shouldn’t be feedin' into your crazy, cariño.”

It is crazy. But you don’t care, giggling along to his taunt.

“Just makes me feel so-so good, Javi,” you breathe.

“Yeah?” He coaxes, sitting back to tower over you, pressing your thighs to your calves; the new angle has bliss rippling through your centre, your back arching involuntarily. “What feels good?”

He shoves your hips down, lowering a finger back to your clit.

“Oh—God—y-yourcock—” he nods approvingly at you, beckoning you to go on, “your—your fingers, too.”

He slows his pace, pulling out fully before slamming back inside you.

“Look at it, cariño,” Javi instructs, steadying your hips once more. “Watch me fuck your pretty lil’ pussy.”

You struggle onto your elbows and obey, mouth slack and perpetually open. Pressure builds at your core as you watch every inch of his hard, dark length disappear, over and over, inside the shelter of your body. It’s so dirty, and somehow the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

“M-made for you, Javi.”

And he moans, an animalistic sound you’d never heard from him before.

“S’right, baby, made just for me.” He flattens his fingers against your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure. “Can you come for me now?”

You nod, grateful for his permission as soon as you start to feel your thighs shake. The tension snaps within you, and you tumble over the edge of your climax with a high pitched whine.

“Good girl,” he praises, low, deep, and bristling with pleasure, “Good fuckin’ girl.”

You ride it out. Javi shows no mercy, squeezing your waist and bouncing your lower half against him. His biceps and shoulders strain against his shirt, the sight making your eyes roll to the back of your head.

After having him a few times, you were well aware of his impressive stamina—Javi wasn’t going to finish without giving you another one. Nonetheless, the overwhelming pleasure has you squirming away from his unrelenting grasp.

He pulls you back against him, steadying you between two forceful hands.

And he fucks you harder.  

“Still remember them, querida? ” He breathes.

You find your voice, using great effort to stammer out a “y-yes."

It's not the correct answer.

Javi growls, “Then I’m not fuckin’ done with you.”

His shirt grazes the insides of your thighs, and you're certain that every part of his form is working to set your skin on fire. A skilled hand wraps around your jaw, and Javi leans over you, lowering his lips to latch around a hard, peaked nipple.

Your whimpers do nothing to stop him. He just keeps rhythmically rocking into you, the head of his cock reaching impossible, beckoning depths.

An almost-sob wracks your lungs. “S’a lot, huh? Takin’ all this cock inside you…” Javi shushes you with feigned sympathy, nipping and suckling at the softest spots at his disposal. “S’okay, baby, s’okay.”

Then he makes his way to your lips, forces you to kiss him—deeply—as your lungs scream for oxygen. He locks your hands above your head in just one of his own, the pressure of his weight the only thing keeping your squirming limbs in place.

And then his mouth is sliding down your jaw, his breaths hot and heavy next to your ear.

“Fuck—can feel you gettin’ close, sweetheart, gonna come again?”

All you can do is nod.

He rolls into you—hard and deep—forcing tears to pull from the outer corners of your eyes.

“S-so good to me,” you manage, seeing pure white as your third orgasm of the day blooms from between your seizing legs.

He groans, freeing your hands (which immediately find stability in the firmness of his shoulders) to clumsily wipe the tears from under one dazed eye. Above you, he resembles a hungry, lustful angel, eyes darkened with unbridled need, affection, approval.  

“‘M’good to what’s mine, baby,” he whispers, pulling you into the crook of his neck as he chases both your highs. “Come, cariño—s’right, come for me.”

And you do, aching, ruined cunt squeezing and releasing, fluttering around Javi. He moans a downright sinful ‘fuck’ at the sensation, reaching his own peak almost in tandem with yours.

Only once his every last drop is spent, once his groan and your whines have stopped echoing around the unfamiliar, open space, does he pull back from your neck.

And when he looks at you… God. There’s something you’re both not saying.

“Only wanna see you cry like this, baby,” he tells you, laying a long, lingering kiss to your forehead. “Never gonna let them—let anyone—lay a finger on you again.”

Your breath hitches, the words thick and sticky in your throat. The both of you are dazed, breathless, and completely wrecked. “I’m… I’m glad we met. That you—that we’re doing this.”

He raises his eyebrows, crooning a soft ‘yeah?’ as he pushes your hair from your face.

You nod. “You make all of it worth it.”

He’s appreciative when leaning in for a kiss, slipping out of you and groaning against your lips. You tangle your fingers in his damp hair, leaning up into him with every aching muscle in your body, wanting nothing more than to become a part of his whole. When he pulls away, it's only to tuck his softening length back into his briefs. He focusses on you again, leaning over to affectionately stroke your knee.

“Is it just sex for you?”

His question comes as a bit of a surprise—you’d never heard him speak so openly, so innocent and vulnerable.

You cup his face. Despite the fact that he looks like the men from earlier, carries the same guns and ammo, knows what they know, even speaks their language, he’s never seemed so separate from them, an entirely different species.

“No—at first, maybe, but now… No. Not for me.”

He eases into a soft smile, wrapping you back into your blanket before laying back, manhandling you to rest against his still-unsteady chest.

Those masterful hands comfort you in a million different ways. He plays with your hair and traces the highest points of your cheekbone. He massages your knuckles, pulls you in for little kisses, dips into the curve of your waist.

“How about you?” The question is small, even though you anticipate the answer.

He takes a second before answering. When he does, his voice is low, quiet.

“Not at all, sweetheart.” He tilts your head up, his soft, caring gaze probing into every corner of your own. “Honestly, I think it’s been more than that since the first time you said ‘go fuck yourself, Peña.’” He whistles under his breath, exaggerating his approval. “Shit was hot.”

It makes you laugh, but it's also enough to make your heart soar. Settling in to the nook of his neck, you breathe in his familiar, earthly scent, until the exhaustion of the day eventually weighs on you.

You fall asleep with a smile on your face, entertained by the fact that while you really should be a wreck, you feel perfectly at ease, wrapped in the arms of your favourite DEA agent. In fact, you can hardly remember what your kidnappers looked like—or sounded like, for that matter—succumbing to slumber, you only think of him.

—

Less than three hectic, hazy days later, you’re pulling a suitcase through the Medellín international airport. There was no sense risking it anymore—you'd have to be transferred to the States until the assholes were caught. Ambassador's orders.

Javi flanks your side, eyes peeled for any abnormalities in your surroundings.

Your heart breaks with every step you take. He comes all the way to the gate without saying a word, merely holding onto one of your bags (that he'd insisted he carry) in a white-knuckled fist.

You’re running behind. There’s not much time.

He doesn’t say he’ll call—knows he’s not that kind of man. You don’t say you’ll visit. You don’t say you’ll write.

No, all you do is lean up on your tippy toes to plant a tender, lingering kiss to his cheek. He returns the favour by cupping your face, leaning down and kissing you intently.

Too intently—as if he were memorizing the grooves in your lips.

Well, that’s what you’re doing, anyways.

Over the loudspeaker, your name is called.

“They’re paging you,” Javi translates, his breath hitting your top lip.

You pull away, doing your best not to cry.

“Thank you.”

It’s all you say—it’s all that needs to be said, really.

Thank you for showing me I matter. Thank you for teaching me patience. Thank you for saving my life three times. Thank you for wanting me. Thank you for making me wait for it. Thank you for giving me a reason to miss this place.  

Thank you for loving me. I think that's what this is.

He hears it all, stuffed and contained, overflowing from the two uttered words.

Then he smiles, that well-trained, protective cockiness spreading across his face.

“You’re welcome, cariño.”

You scoff a laugh, slowly dropping his hand and turning towards your gate.

“If I ever visit home…” he calls after you.

You pause, smiling down at the glistening floor, shaking your head. “You’ll never catch me in Texas, Peña,” you call across the traffic of rushing families and over-packed suitcases. He smiles knowingly, hands in his pockets, watching you leave. “Just lock the fuckers up so I can visit. The weather sucks back home.”

You slowly walk backwards towards the exit, ignoring a few flight-attendant-glares, not daring to break off the playful eye contact linking you to your agent.

“I’ll do it just for you, baby,” he calls, grinning like a fool.

Strange. You’d never noticed how the teasing, that snarky back and forth you’d developed together seemed to put him at ease—to relax him. All that time he'd spent, driving you to the brink of insanity... it comforted him.

And that realization was enough to make you beam.

You commit that final glimpse to memory. Javi—smiling, calm, alive, yours. It was rare enough that you felt sure it would stick.

When you finally turn to face the gate, to face your future, you don’t feel like crying anymore.

It was enough just to have met him.

Maybe—just maybe—he felt the same.

—

All my friends tell me I should move on

I'm lying in the ocean, singing your song

Ahh

That's how you sang it

Loving you forever can't be wrong

Even though you're not here, won't move on

Ahh

That's how we played it

And there's no remedy for memory, your face is like a melody

It won't leave my head

Your soul is haunting me and telling me that everything is fine

But I wish I was dead (dead, like you)

Every time I close my eyes, it's like a dark paradise

No one compares to you

I'm scared that you won't be waiting on the other side

Every time I close my eyes, it's like a dark paradise

No one compares to you

I'm scared that you won't be waiting on the other side

All my friends ask me why I stay strong

Tell 'em when you find true love, it lives on

Ahh

That's why I stay here

And there's no remedy for memory, your face is like a melody

It won't leave my head

Your soul is haunting me and telling me that everything is fine

But I wish I was dead (dead, like you)

Every time I close my eyes, it's like a dark paradise

No one compares to you

I'm scared that you won't be waiting on the other side

Every time I close my eyes, it's like a dark paradise

No one compares to you

But there's no you, except in my dreams tonight

I don't want to wake up from this tonight

There's no relief, I see you in my sleep

And everybody's rushing me, but I can feel you touching me

There's no release, I feel you in my dreams

Telling me I'm fine

Every time I close my eyes, it's like a dark paradise

No one compares to you

I'm scared that you won't be waiting on the other side

Every time I close my eyes, it's like a dark paradise

No one compares to you

But there's no you, except in my dreams tonight

I don't want to wake up from this tonight

—

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[creedslove]

DESERVE IT - PART ONE

Javier Peña x f!reader

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

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

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

1.6k words

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

•••

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

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

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

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

He broke the silence and stared into your eyes.

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

Javi licked his lips as he nodded.

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

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

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

"You really think that, hermosa?" You nodded

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

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

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

____

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

[furious-rogue-stuff]

Heat Chapter 44: Deserving - Part 1

I assure you, I did NOT intend for there to be such a long hiatus since the last update! Life got ridiculous for a while. Hopefully this massive chapter makes up for the wait!

Pairing: Javier Peña x OFC | Javi x Querida

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

Rating: Mature/Explicit 🔞

Word Count: 26,000+

Summary: While Javier's work spins up, preoccupying him, you try to keep your worries after several perplexing occurrences from towing you down into uncertainty. Can you both keep each other feeling grounded and deserving of the hopes you both care to nurture together?

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of sex, including masturbation and unprotected sex. Mentions of raunchy sexual acts, sickness, longing, stress, and fertility worries. Descriptions of power play, praise kink, and dirty talk. Allusions to jealousy, family strife, foreboding threats, and uncertainty. Some Protective!Javi, Dom! Javi, Bossy!Reader. In the vein of Narcos being a bilingual show, and Javier Peña being fluent, I felt it was apropos to include Spanglish and Spanish throughout.

Heat Masterlist

Previous chapter - Chapter 43: Still

Chapter 44: Deserving - Part 1

Since the 1980s, Puerto Rico had grown into a major gateway to the U.S. for South American drugs. Within the first few years of the early 1990s, though, the small archipelago and U.S. territory functioned as the Caribbean's drug-smuggling hub. The administration in Washington D.C. ranked Puerto Rico and the nearby U.S. Virgin Islands as second to Mexico, in being a corridor for drugs coming into the United States.

With stats like that, and a precarious rise in violence and social ills associated with the drug trade and trafficking on the island, it was no wonder that the federal government had established a larger footprint in the region, encouraged especially by the Partido Nuevo Progresista being the current party in power. The Puerto Rican governor, Pedro Roselló, was a pro-statehood politician who'd been voted into power with lofty promises of curbing the waves of crime and violence, and collaborating with the federal government to get aid and better opportunities for private industry to the island of 3.6 million people.

His Mano Dura initiative was one that will be studied for decades to come. Beginning as a zero-tolerance policy program to combat crime, that some say had the opposite effect when it came to bettering the social standing of the working and poor classes on the island. It included the enactment of policies that increased sentencing periods, reduced rehab-focused initiatives for criminal offenders and promoted aggressive, more proactive – and often invasive – policing tactics. Public safety was touted as the preeminent concern – borne out of the fear and public frustrations across all facets of Puerto Rican society regarding the skyrocketing incidences of carjackings, hold ups, drive-by shootings, and murders fueled by the drug trade.

For all the militarized tactics, most glaring being the use of the National Guard to infiltrate and police public housing and high-crime neighborhoods throughout the metropolitan municipalities on the island, the murder rate only kept rising.

Javier had poured over the data, and saw how crime had exploded on the island as soon as it became a hub for drug trafficking into the U.S. and Europe. It used to be that robberies and the occasional assault were the worst crimes in most towns on the island. But just the year prior, there were 980 homicides on the island, setting a record – with one of the worst massacres reported occurring in a small town west of San Juan. More than 60 percent of the killings were drug-related. And drug-related violence was only getting more pervasive – indiscriminate of victims or the collateral damage.

Needless to say, Javi was done with the crash course phase of things, and wanted to really wrap his arms around the facts at hand. Sadly, the murder and mayhem had no face – no figurehead to pin the wave of crime on, so he was left to pull at threads in the stats and data to try and find the source. Of course, though, he and Steve had their mandate: stopping the flow of drugs, especially of the 10 to 20 percent that ended up remaining in the island for local consumption, creating a criminal industry that smuggles and stores the product, launders money, operates the retail puntos and foments the violence to prevail over competitors. Well, at least that was Javi's goal, since stopping the all-out flow of drugs into the U.S. was a fool's errand.

Getting the DEA running without being as heavy-handed as the National Guard patrolling known points had been difficult in the past, but he and Steve had come up with different tactics and enforcement plans. Organizing everyone, and getting them the necessary training, and into the field office was their current hurdle, one that kept both agents busy.

Working to get the field office set up, splitting travel to and from the U.S. Virgin Islands, being briefed on joint task force operations, and dealing with federal officials assessing their budgetary requests had been occupying a lot of their time. There just aren't many moments for either of them to concentrate on non-DEA-related things longer than the cursory conversations or plans you and Connie make for dinner hangouts, surface 'how was your day' chats, or simply wanting to be in the moment when intimacy was possible. So, having the intuition to ask 'what is wrong?' wasn't in the cards currently.

You commiserate with Connie about it. Between the two of you, though, you don't feel like you have any concerns – you don't feel neglected or burdened. After all, she's the one juggling a full-time job at the V.A., taking care of Isabel and Olivia, and fitting in time to tend to the house. If anything, you feel pretty centered, compared to how things had been before reconciling with Javier.

It's all perspective, and you are a great sounding board for Connie as much as she's a reassuring voice of reason – and a fount of knowledge for living with a stubborn DEA agent.

Really, you enjoy having someone who understands what it's like to be in love with a tenacious, committed and selfless man who throws himself into his work head first, then thinks about the toll that takes much later. As far as you're concerned, it all is put into perspective. So not telling Javier – or anyone – about the threatening note you'd received via a pink carnation bouquet delivery to your condo building, makes perfect sense to you.

Sure, you'd rushed down and asked the attendant specifics – 'Who delivered it? Did they mention the sender at all? Are you sure it was meant for my apartment?' – and gotten no answers or evidence that would help identify the culprit, let alone a means to track possible suspects, had unnerved you. But you just didn't think it was anything worth mentioning to Javier. You didn't want to alarm him when you weren't really sure it was even meant for you or not. No, it didn't seem credible enough to set off unnecessary stress and panic. So, you didn't.

You'd thrown the flowers out, and stored the card into the drawer of the console in the living room.

When Javier had spent the night at your place the following evening, you'd already shoved it to the back of your mind.

He was none the wiser, and you'd enjoyed relaxing with him in bed after stripping each other of your clothes and making passionate love while the air conditioning kept your warm bodies and the room cool.

He'd been beat from work, so much so he'd practically fallen asleep in mid-sentence about his hectic day.

Things for your department were equally busy the next couple of weeks as well with a major server expansion across departments and agencies occurring in stages, so you held no umbrage at the juggling of free time happening, since you were also focusing on your work projects.

The nights he'd work late, you were content with a quick 'goodnight' call and making plans to have a coffee, or lunch date some time the next day. Whenever you both ended up being at the office after hours, due to working late, Javier and you would carpool together in your sleek sedan to his place to spend the night together, and he'd catch a ride the following morning with Kike either to the field office or some task force meeting at the Federal Court Building.

And dinner with the Murphys had seamlessly become a once-a-week routine during this period as well, which was much-needed for blowing off steam and socializing outside of work.

This week's dinner was Saturday night, and it had been wonderful, but not without a lot of chatter between Steve and Javier regarding the drudgery still to come. During this kind of shop-talk lulls, you and Connie would exchange musing looks before leaving the fellas to it, preferring to entertain Olivia and the baby over idle chatter. This time, the precocious girl had made you both come to her room so she could show off the drawings she'd done at school and play with her favorite toy of the week before she had to get in her pjs and get tucked in.

You didn't mind it at all, and Isabel was a sweet baby that always seemed to enjoy your silly muecas and bouncing on your knee.

Javi was apologizing now, on the walk home back to his bungalow, for being so preoccupied, but you reassure him that it didn't bother you.

"—I know how much of a hassle it is to deal with all this stuff, babe. I'm just glad you and Steve have each other, this time," is your understanding retort. "And anyway, you two will make it up to us eventually."

"Oh, yeah?" he drawls, arm around your waist giving you a cheeky squeeze. "Have anything in mind already?"

"Actually, yeah. Earlier today, Connie, Anita and I talked about maybe doing a trip – all of us couples together," you retort simply and slip your hand into the back pocket of his jeans. "We could rent a house close to the beach and go for a long weekend."

Pleased, Javi hums, "Sure. I like that plan. Could be fun."

You conceded that you were sure it was a ways-away out, and while you both walk around the corner, keeping to the sidewalk, you muse, "All the Mano Dura stuff is really only revving up too, so I can imagine you're both going to be juggling that as well."

Unintentionally veering him back onto the work topic, Javier ends up talking through his thought process and concerns the rest of the walk to his place. By the time he's unlocking the door and chivalrously holding it open for you, Javi is really on a roll.

"—Once we get things settled, and the extra funding we asked for the field op teams comes in, we'll be able to take a backseat and let our ASACs manage," Javier is remarking as you enter through the entry door through the laundry room before him, allowing him to close and lock it behind himself. "It's time for Segarra to sink or swim, and Steve's guy seems more than capable to handle his end, so we should be finally able to focus on big-picture work. Really, we shouldn't have been doing so much shit ourselves up to this point, especially since we're supposed to be the bosses—"

He's just loped into the main living space and placed his keys onto the counter when his verbal train of thought halts after turning towards the living room. Well, specifically at the sight of you pulling your flouncy pale blue and green floral-patterned bohemian dress off and tossing it onto the chair adjacent the couch before toeing off your favorite leather flats and look over at him alluringly.

You're only in a thin nude lace bra and tanga-style panty now, already undoing the front closure as you brazenly suggest, "Why don't you come over here and show me who's boss, querido?"

It's hot, and oh-so-naughty how you can spin his lust up in a nanosecond and have him simmering with incandescent urge, especially with this kind of taunt delivered as an appeal for him to dominate you. And the sultry smile in your eyes as you shed your bra and toss it over at him to land on his shoulder, for good measure? Proceeded by the spritely way you fold your arms behind yourself and jut your bare breasts out proudly at him?

Rapacious desire ignites in his gut and has him rushing over to sweep you up into his arms. A delighted squeal bubbles out of you as he carries you to bed, making you laugh infectiously from his nippy nuzzling – impishly grazing his moustache along your neck and collarbone before he tosses you onto the soft surface. You bounce and giggle as you prop up onto your elbows to bat your lashes sultrily at him.

"You wanna get bossed around, do you?" he rumbles in a velvety tone as he takes his boots off and quickly divests of his belongings before unbuckling his belt and showily yanking his dark blue and white vertical pinstriped shirt – the one you love because it clings to his shoulders and pecs perfectly and accentuates his muscled biceps deliciously – out of his jeans waistband before swiftly beginning to undo the top three buttons.

Giving him a salacious smirk, you purr, "Mmhmm, that's right, mi patrón—"

"Fuck…" he eyes you with that smoldering, chiseled regard that always makes you tingly, before he growls, "Take those panties off right now, then, you little tease," as he deftly works the rest of the buttons undone and shrugs out of the shirt before pausing at plucking the button on his jeans when you defiantly remain sat up on your elbows and do not strip your underwear off as he'd ordered. Raising a challenging brow at you, he puts his hands on his hips and grumbles, "Are you really going to defy me, malcriada?"

You give him a mischievous grin and lilt, "Maybe?"

He grunts, giving you a snarky look as he leans over and yanks you down to the end of the bed by your ankles. Your squeal of surprise and the way you bite your lower lip makes him smirk before roguishly husking, "Do I need to tear them off of you and bend you over my knee for a spanking, traviesa?"

"I really like these, so no – no tearing, please," you chime as you draw your knees up and plant your soles flat to the bed, splaying your legs wide open as you toy with the waistband suggestively while his gaze hones in on the damp spot your arousal has soaked into the crotch of your panties.

The way he flicks his dark brewed eyes up at you sends an excited tickle up your spine and makes your pussy throb when he stares assertively at you before ordering, "Take them off, and show me what's mine."

Arousal pulses at your center at his command, and heat zings along your nerve endings to harden your nipples while anticipation flutters in your tummy as you slowly work your panties down and off. You discard them to the floor and lay back so you can spread your legs open and caress your hands along your thighs.

Javi hums in approval, and you expect him to finish undressing and have his way with you, but instead his smoldering gaze intensifies as he keeps his hands at his sides and murmurs gruffly, "I told you to show me what's mine, tentadora."

Your breath skitters excitedly, and Javi's gaze holds yours before admiringly returning to your cunt, now flushed with arousal. The desire he stokes in you has your seam slick and clitoris thrumming with need. He doesn't have to elaborate what he means, and seeing as you started this little game, you're aching to have him, and are tantalized by him flexing his dominance.

Breathily, you part your legs more and glide your hands down to touch yourself, slick dampening your folds as you run your fingers down and part them like dewy petals. You use the fingers of one hand to spread yourself open while the eager digits of the other dip into your aching pussy wetly before tracing back up to rub delicious pressure over your thrumming clitoris.

The sight of you pleasuring yourself has Javi throbbing wantonly in the confines of his jeans, but he keeps his now clenched hands at his sides as you whimper impatiently for his touch.

"Javi—please," you whine, your touch not enough, and desire making you needy for him to be naked and pressed against you.

He doesn't budge, even when you arch your hips up slightly and squeeze your bare breasts together. No, he wants to hear the magic words before he continues stripping.

"Please…what?"

Your blush sears the apples of your cheeks and you bite your bottom lip hard before exhaling a frustrated huff.

"Please, take what's yours," you beg, slick fingers gliding through your damp sex before you caress your palms up to your apex, as you murmur, "Give me what you want, mi amor."

He feels that rapacious urge scorch up in him at your needy words, and with how you butterfly your thighs open to show him how soaked your pussy is now, Javier can't keep his controlling façade up – not with how quickly his hands move to undo the button of his jeans and zip down his fly before slipping his thumbs into the waistbands of both the denim and his cotton underwear to yank them both in one swoop down.

Watching him strip makes you smile. He catches it when he stands from shedding the last of his clothes and tossing them in a pile by the dresser.

"Hm, take what's mine, eh?" he drawls in that honeyed baritone that makes delight tickle in your core, especially when he stands with his hard cock to loom over you, like he's contemplating what to do to you first.

All you can do to not grin up at him is to nod as demurely as you can muster as you hum, "Mmhmm."

With a shameless smile, Javi suddenly scoops you up and prowls onto the bed with you squealing a silly sound as he stays propped up on his knees so you're only recourse is to wrap your legs around his waist and cling to his shoulders.

He loves how mirth lights your eyes while your expression quirks with delight against your will – how your pursing lips can't fight back the smile tugging them up, so with a faux-admonishing cluck of his tongue, Javi coos, "Why am I getting the distinct impression that you're really giving me what you want, and not the other way around, hmm?"

You snicker and daringly buck against him so he has to catch his balance by propping his arm sidelong, which allows you to use the momentum to topple him onto the bed so you can playfully roughhouse with him for dominance, as you chime seductively, "Because that's exactly the case, mi patroncito. It gets me hot when you get all bossy—"

"Oh yeah?" Javier croons as he easily pivots you both so you're on your back and his big hands have cuffed your wrists and pressed them down on either side of your head. The weight of him crowding you makes you shiver, and the exquisite heft of his cock nestled flush against your crotch makes you mewl involuntarily.

"Yes," you admit airily and smile when his soulful eyes crinkle affectionately at you, full lips pursing out cockily. Deciding to pluck at a naughty string in him, you purr, "And it makes me ache for your cock when you think you can command me, bebito."

That has Javier giving you that incandescent look just as he steals your breath with a voracious kiss. Your arousal hazes your mind just as his hand moves to cuff your wrists together above your head while the other possessively cups your cunt and grinds your clit with the pad of his thumb. Hips bucking at the contact, you mewl into his mouth when his tongue plunders it while you arch up into his warm, muscled torso.

Your brain is swimming in the pleasure of Javi dominating the hell out of you, so much so that you don't even feel shame when he breaks the kiss and leaves you gasping from the sudden thwack of his deft fingers wrapping around his cock and tapping it lewdly onto your drenched pussy in a very lascivious show of dominance.

"When I think I can command you?" is Javier's gruff croon, dark brewed eyes molten with conviction as he makes his point again by gliding just the head of his cock through your folds before guiding it to slap wetly against your mound, deviously close to the hood of your clit.

You moan and writhe at the electrifying contact, so Javi purrs, "I think the ache you got for my cock has you forgetting who the boss is, querida. I'm gonna need you to use your words and beg for it, or else I'll just give you everything but my cock tonight."

Your skin is scalding from how crass-yet-authoritative he's being with you, winding your lust up into a tangle of desires that has you vibrating with arousal and pulsing with debauched delight.

"Please, mi amor—give it to me. Lo necesito. Te lo ruego. Por favor, mi rey. Seré tuya—will do whatever you command, just let me have it," you ramble with needy allure, eyes shimmering with how earnestly you're begging for him not to deny you the pleasure only he can give you.

Pleased beyond belief, Javi caresses his hand up to cup your chin to ground you to focus on his smoldering stare as he leans forward and husks, "Good girl," before kissing you chastely on the lips.

He lets you wrap your arms around his torso as he settles between your thighs and rolls his hips with delectable prowess to drive his cock into your pulsing sheath.

It feels so amazing to have him fuck into you – to stretch you open onto his thick, throbbing cock with every thrust, especially after all the foreplay and dirty talk. This feeling of passionate ecstasy always fills you, and the way you cling to Javi with every desperate stroke of him into you tethers him into being both grounded and alight. Nothing matters when you're both spun up like this, except for the ruinous euphoria you each feel build and build as the lovemaking crescendos.

There's nothing more gratifying to his pride than when you climax, going molten around his cock and frantic in his arms to cling to the sensations he's unleashed in you. You're so wild from the throes of pleasure that you muffle your sobbed moan into his neck before ferally suckling a greedy bite into the delectable spot.

"Fuck," Javier groans and feels his thoughts melt as his orgasm barrels loose from the knot of pleasure in his apex and has him clutching your waist as he pounds his cock into you before his thrusts stutter in rhythm and his release empties into your fluttering sheath.

Your toes curl at the sensation of his climax filling that deep, tender part of you only he can reach, leveling you to fall apart in his arms as all the strength dissolves in your body.

The warm and fuzzy heat of post-coital relief has you uncaring that you're warm, slick and sweaty under Javier while he lies on top of you in a spent heap.

"Eres pinche gloriosa," is Javi's husky, albeit drowsy praise as he props himself up on a shaky elbow before laboriously rolling off of you with an exhausted grunt.

All you can muster is an affectionate nudge of your forehead into his shoulder before Javi rumbles something wordlessly and encircles his arm to your waist in order to pull you to sidle against him.

The cool air from the undulating ceiling fan caressing your dewy forms helps lull you into a calm repose, where only Javier's warm skin and heady scent occupy your attention, until he nuzzles the top of your hairline and presses a kiss there.

"You feel good, querida?"

"Feel divine, chavón," you sigh, kissing his collarbone before you murmur, "I love you."

He exhales an approving grunt before patting your thigh encouragingly for you to tilt your face up to him. When you do, he caresses your cheek and swipes his thumb to wipe away at the perspiration that beaded along the edge of your orbital bone.

"I love you too, corazón."

Dreamily, you smile up at him unselfconsciously. Your eyes are glossy, lashes damp and lids heavy, so Javi curls his fingers to crook under your chin so he can admire your flushed features before he peppers soft kisses along your warm skin. You are content to simply bask in his doting grace.

Eventually, when you regain your wits and start to fidget, Javier gets out of bed to retrieve a damp washcloth and returns to give you his loving aftercare. And when he pulls the covers back for you to be tucked under them, you hold onto his forearm and tug him to slide in after you rather than be apart from him the few seconds it would've taken him to round the bed to his side and climb in.

Feeling too accomplished to care that you're in the spot closer to the doorway than he'd normally like, Javi stretches out next to you and happily lets you lounge curled up against him, with your head on his shoulder and hand caressing languidly along his chest.

"So…at the risk of sounding clingy, I'm really going to miss you," you find yourself volunteering in a murmur, already frowning at yourself as you amend it by rationalizing softly, "I mean, the other trips were much shorter—"

Javi cups your jaw and makes you melt when he kisses you, snuffing the insecure ramble before it could start.

Resting his forehead to yours, he sighs, "I know, since I feel the same way," before stating flatly, "It's gonna be a lot of meetings. Hell, all the damn travel from island to island will be the worst of it. Not to mention all the political jockeying and face-to-face conferences with officials. Wish I could just delegate it to someone else."

You pout, seeing the weariness in the corners of his eyes, so you sit up and caress your touch over his brow, murmuring as you trace your fingertips over his forehead, "Those are the pitfalls of being the boss man, hermoso."

He exhales deeply out his nose and closes his eyes, letting you soothe him with your affectionate touch before he mumbles, "I'm going to miss you so much, it's ridiculous."

When he opens his eyes again, he relaxes visibly when you lean forward and kiss his full lips tenderly before playfully scratching into his unruly hair, while you lilt in a singsong, "You'll just have to be a good boy, get your work done, and hurry back so I can have my way with you."

His laugh is warm and raspy as he loops his arms around you to roll down into the pillows together so he can shower you with ticklish, moustache-grazing kisses to your cheeks, jaw and neck while you giggle and try to fend him off by tickling his sides.

After you both settle down in the warm bed together for the night, Javier conks right out, breathing deep and calmly on his back while you're snuggled at his side, with your head on his chest. The quiet of the room and the undulating breeze coming from the curtain-covered windows helps your mind wander for a bit, still charged with wayward thoughts. The ones that keep looping back for consideration revolve around Javier unperturbedly falling back into the chase – of being hungry for the hunt. He couldn't seem to quit the DEA for good, let alone sit back and relax in his position of authority. You remember his promises, both from when he was a field agent and when he was the Special Agent in-Charge in Bogotá. How he'd been unable to keep any of them, no matter how hard he tried.

And now here you are, recalling the ones he'd made to you when he'd begged for another chance.

"I came here for you."

He'd professed coming to Puerto Rico to be with you. That he didn't give a damn about the job, and if you wanted, he'd quit. How he'd do whatever necessary to earn your trust. That all that mattered to him, was you.

You don't want him to quit, or to not give a damn about his work. But you'd be lying if you weren't worried that old habits were intent to die hard when it came to him getting swept up in the politicking and the disappointment – that he would fall prey again to the corrupt jockeying and manipulation of compromised leaders, both here and stateside.

Still…in your heart, you felt things were different, and didn't want to give up the peace of being with him, on both your own terms.

"Everything we wanted is still possible…I want it all, with you…"

An effervescent palpitation has your heart skipping a beat at the echo of his words, and you feel centered.

With a smile, you close your eyes and let the strong thrum of his heartbeat help lull you into sleep.

Early the next morning, you wake up to Javi sitting on the foot of the bed with a cup of coffee he's nursing while in only a pair of blue-striped pajama bottoms hanging low on his hips. From how his shoulders are slumped, you can tell he's half asleep, so you maneuver up to crawl over to him in order to slink up against his bare back. He grunts sleepily and takes a deep inhale before reaching his free hand backwards to hold you while you loop your arms around his midriff and kiss the nape of his neck.

"Want me to make you something to eat?" you whisper as you nuzzle the side of his head when he tilts it back and leans more into you.

"I'd rather have you," he tells you unabashedly as he turns to kiss you softly on the lips.

You hum into his coffee-flavored mouth before leaning back to sassily pet your hand over his tousled hair as you order, "You're going to have both, and you're going to like it, guapito."

Javier has no objection to that.

You both get in the shower together, have a great quickie under the hot water and against the warm tiles, and let the water rinse over your sated forms of the soap and sinfulness.

When you get back to the bedroom, you dry off and lie in bed to relish the little time you have left until Kike pulls up to get Javi before swinging over to Steve's.

Skin to skin, you savor his kisses and lovingly cuddle him, knowing how lonely – and empty your bed – going so long without him will be. Javier feels the longing building up in him already, and all he wants to do is get lost in this sensual moment, even though he doesn't have the time for it. You know it too, and prolong it for as long as you can.

It's only when you insistingly nudge him to start getting ready a few minutes later, that Javi begrudgingly goes to his dresser to grab his clothes. His things were already packed and waiting in the laundry room, thanks to you having surprised him with a respectable suitcase you'd purchased earlier the day before. When he'd come home from the gym and met you at his driveway after you'd dropped off Connie, Javi had been curious about the sleek piece of luggage as you carried it to his bedroom. You'd opened it as you'd razzed him about needing to level up from his well-traveled duffle bag, and had proceeded to iron an arrangement of suits and shirts for him. He'd been more than happy to enjoy your domestic doting, and had smirked when you'd shooed him away into the shower so you could continue picking out the ties and other garments he'd need.

Right now, though, he doesn't feel the need to rush to get ready, even when you're done pulling on your jeans and are tugging your shirt down as you head for the kitchen.

By the time he trudges down the back hall into the main room, dressed in dark blue jeans and a nice white button-down shirt with a breast pocket his aviators are currently folded in, you have a generous breakfast sandwich and a refreshed cup of coffee waiting for him at the kitchen's bar top.

His stomach growls, spiting him, and you smirk as he sits at the stool and eats with gusto while eyeing you ruefully.

"You know, you're cute when you're grumpy," you can't help tease as you lean into the counter, opposite him.

Polishing off his meal, he quickly dabs at his mouth with the napkin before picking the dishes up and rounding the countertop, deliberately breezing by you to place them in the sink, as he gripes, "We had enough time to fool around some more, and you shot me down."

You scoff irreverently before whirling around just in time to catch him off guard and press him back against the sink's counter. Hands boxing him in so you can lean into him commandingly, you bossily tell him, "Javier Peña, you better not be getting surly with me before you're about to leave for over a week. You know how much I want to roll around naked in bed with you. Now quit being a brat, and give me a kiss."

He can't even stay surly, not at that, or the sultry look you're giving him.

His lips quirk into a smirk while he lets his moodiness out in a huff through his nose, then leans in to kiss you obediently on the mouth.

You suck on his bottom lip before grazing your teeth on the plump morsel, enjoying how he gasps excitedly and grips your waist as you pull back and imperiously smile up at his flushed expression.

Just as you're deliberating whether you can get away with kissing on him some more, you hear Kike pull up in the SUV outside, so you sigh and wrap your arms around him for a fortifying hug.

Once you've taken care of the remaining dishes and Javier's disposed of the garbage in the receptacle outside for trash pickup, you go to the bedroom to retrieve your scrunchie in order to swiftly put your hair up.

Javi's booted footfalls over the tiled floor approach from the hall just before he comes in and wraps his arms around you from behind. Exhaling, he kisses the top of your head before asking, "You're still spending the day with your dad?"

You nod, leaning into him before affectionately turning in his embrace and nuzzling his neck, humming before reluctantly stepping back so you can both exit back to the living room. "Yeah. He's going to D.C. for a while, so I was going to go food shopping and make dinner at his place," you remark and sigh whilst putting your hair in a ponytail.

He ogles your neck, and considers delaying leaving by pulling you against him so he can kiss from your jaw down the column of delicate skin. To nip a matching hickey like the one you left on him, and feel you shiver and cling to him. But you're hustling to get your shoes on and grab your purse, so he stows his raunchy desires and gets his keys, cellular phone, and wallet.

"That sounds nice," Javi muses, making you smile when his hand caresses your lower back as he escorts you through the laundry room, grabbing his suitcase and opening the door for you. "No Camille?"

"Nope, thankfully," you retort and watch as he locks up before smiling when he turns and quirks a derisive brow at you. "It's for both their benefits! I cannot stand her, and she has finally learned her place, is all," you insist, and Javi nods judiciously at your rationale while he takes your hand and escorts you out of the marquesina to lope over to the front curb where Kike is parked.

"Well, it sounds like it'll be a better time spent than what I'll be doing," is his deadpan before approaching the driver's side window that's rolled down, patting the frame to get the young officer's attention from the local tabloid magazine he's engrossed in, as he greets, "Morning, Kike!"

"Good morning, sir!" the jovial plainclothes officer retorts warmly before hastily folding up the magazine and stowing it in the door's cubby, then waves while greeting, "And good morning, Ms. Celina—"

"Ay, Kike. Just call me Celina," you razz him as you lean up to greet him with a kiss on the cheek through the open window. "Deja con las formalidades, ya," is your amused order.

"Okay-okay, se me olvidó," he chuckles as Javier opens the backseat door and places his suitcase in. "Did you like the mix tape?"

"Yeah, it had some cool tracks!" you retort and smile at Javi when he grunts and raises his brows curiously as he shuts the car door. "Kike gave me a mix tape with all the latest reggaetoneros that are hot right now."

"Ah," is his drawl as he loops your waist and pulls you close. "When are we going to perrear?"

"Javier!" you admonishingly hiss and swat his bicep haughtily, scoffing at his unabashed leer whilst Kike tries to hide his wry grin.

"Oh, that's right – you said when I take you to a club that actually plays reggaetón," he drawls as if you're talking about something innocuous, before he turns to Kike and remarks, "You'll have to tell me what the hot reggaetón clubs are so I can finally get her to dance perreo with me—"

"Alright, enough, beyako," you chastise sardonically and pinch his sides, grinning when Javier frowns at you using the naughty nickname in front of Kike, who is doing everything he can not to burst with a guffaw at his expense. You distract his umbrage by standing on your tippy toes to peck him on the lips before lilting, "Pórtate bien, y llámame."

He smirks at being told 'Be good, and call me.'

"I will," he murmurs and kisses you amorously before cupping your cheek and muttering, "You behave too, now."

Snickering, you kiss his palm and pull him in for a hug.

Once Kike has turned the SUV around while Javier walked you to your car, you two lock lips one more time before you hop in and pull out of the driveway to the street. You wave at Javi in the rearview once you see him get into the front passenger seat, and then drive away to head to your early morning errands.

Javier watches your little sedan drive off before Kike pulls away to coax down the block and turn the corner en route for Steve's house. He already misses you, and finds himself scenting his collar for the whiff of your perfume that clings to it.

"I gotta warn you, sir. Ms. Celina is going to have cacos drooling after her when you take her to bailar perreo," Kike remarks musingly, causing Javi to arch a brow dubiously at him. "Ella es una mamita sabrocita – all eyes will be on her at any reggaetón club, is all I mean."

With a dry grunt, Javier furrows his brow amusedly. "Trust me. I'm very aware," is his dry mutter, before he sarcastically warns, "And do not let her hear you refer to her as a mamita. Speaking from experience, she will let you have it and you'll have whiplash."

"Claro que no," Kike snickers and shakes his head sagely. "She's a chulería – una bichota bien wapa, so I would never pasarme así, sir. Definitely don't wanna offend her!"

Javier nods, picking up the gist of the slang-filled statement. After all, he's really had a run for his money in deciphering the bulk of the Puerto Rican slang Kike and Wilmer would fire off at each other in rapid conversation, and being out with you and witnessing your parrying of local colloquialisms you'd not used before in Colombia would often or not leave him inferring meanings, if not straight up asking you what a word meant.

Still, though, he'd heard bichote used to reference a drug dealer or criminal kingpin-type, so he had to ask, "¿Bichota?"

"Ah! Bichota as in a boss lady. A big shot woman – like, she's a cool, important lady," the younger officer explains as he pulls up to the front curb of the Murphy residence.

"I'm gonna need to find a 'Puerto Rican-isms' dictionary, for sure," Javier quips, smirking when the other man blows a raspberry and grunts in the affirmative.

He's not completely joking. Especially after the weeks of prep and briefs from undercover agents, who'd documented hours of audio recordings from dealers, traffickers, gatilleros and more throughout all their surveillance targets on the island. Thankfully Wilmer or Kike were always available to run questions by, and had been great helps to all local info for Javier and Steve.

The opening of the backseat door pulls Javi from his internal cataloguing. He turns to watch Steve chuck his suitcase in before climbing in and shutting the door while greeting, "Mornin', fellas. You been waiting long?"

"No, sir!" Kike assures as he pulls away from the curb once Steve's settled.

"Yeah, Kike here was just warning me about how I'll have to keep Celina close when I take her dancing here," Javier glibly jokes as he retrieves his aviators from his breast pocket and slips them on.

"Really? You do know Jav here is a real surly jealous type, right? So telling him something like that's only gonna get him stewing," Steve chuckles good naturedly as he leans forward to pat Javier's shoulder, and drawls, "We do not need a repeat of the Danvers incident, bud."

Javier scoffs and crosses his arms to keep his right hand from fidgeting with his exasperation at the mere reference. "Don't be an ass. That wasn't because I was jealous—"

"I'm sorry for mentioning it, sir," Kike genuinely offers as he drives, adding, "I didn't mean to sobrepasarme —"

With a reassuring pat of his shoulder, Javier assures, "Nah, you didn't. Don't worry. Murphy solo le gusta hablar mierda—"

"Hey, I don't talk shit," Steve interjects in a goading drawl.

"Oh, you're finally learning Spanish. Good for you, and about fuckin' time, hillbilly."

"Some of us are still capable of learning new things, pendejo. And do you kiss Celina with that filthy mouth?"

"She loves my filthy mouth. Maybe you should try it some time with your poor long-suffering wife—"

"Hey! My wife's off limits to your snarky remarks—"

"And Celina is off limits to your shit-talking commentary—"

"She ain't your wife yet, buddy. Once she is, then she's off limits."

Javier exhales testily and flips Steve the bird over his shoulder while glaring at the grinning blond in the rearview mirror. He arches his brow when Steve sits back and basks in having gotten the last word, or so he thinks.

"Look at him. Sitting so pleased with himself like he accomplished something," Javi deadpans to Kike in Spanish, who had managed to stifle his laughter during their juvenile back and forth. "Just loves to bust balls because his get busted at home."

Steve glowers at Javier's profile when Kike snorts amusedly at what he said, so he decides to prod his buddy some more. "Speaking of Celina," he drawls lyrically before remarking aloofly, "Wilmer told me he overheard Bozzi telling Vernon that she caught his eye."

That has the desired reaction.

Javier slowly turns around and tucks his chin down so he can glower at Steve over the rims of his sunglasses. "What?! When was this, and why are you only telling me now?" he grounds out from clenched jaw and tight lips.

Seeing the hickey barely concealed by Javier's shirt collar, he flicks his gaze up to see that dark fury start to fill his eyes, so, Steve dismisses, "Ah, because it ain't the first nor will it be the last time that anyone has the hots for your girl, Javi. No point in bringing it up—"

"Except to wind me up, you mean," Javi snaps back and huffily returns to sit facing forward in the front passenger seat.

"…All right, dick move on my part. I agree," Steve relents and busies himself with smoothening out the wrinkle in his green and white-striped polo shirt's collar.

"…What did Vernon respond to that asshole?" is the gravelly inquiry from Javier.

Steve looks at Javi's stare reflected in the rearview mirror before glancing at Kike, who's now just as invested in the gossip as Javi, so he exhales gruffly before answering, "Vernon told him something like, 'I'm pretty sure she's spoken for already. Or so go the rumors,' and Bozzi scoffed that there's no ring on her finger so she was fair game, as far as he was concerned."

That boils Javier's blood. But he only shows it with the hard etch of his scowling features and the way his biceps flex when he crosses his arms tightly across his chest.

"Acho, que canto cabrón," Kike remarks indignantly, not even batting an eye when Javi looks over at him, surprised. "Ms. Celina would never like that guy, so he's a pendejo for saying shit like that."

Chuckling in agreement, Steve cosigns, "I couldn't have said it better myself."

Javier cracks a lopsided smirk at that. He appreciates Kike being protective of you, and was glad when you both had struck up a platonic friendship after meeting when they'd picked you up from the dealership where you'd left your car to get serviced one morning. Since then, you would both chat buoyantly whenever you'd see each other and he'd given you his cell phone number in case you ever needed to get ahold of him if you couldn't reach Javier.

While he thinks about you the rest of the way they drive to the airport, you're leaving the video rental store now and hopping in your car to go spend the day with your father at his home.

You'd already stopped at the supermarket that carried Colombian food staples and picked up items for the meals you'd promised to make, so after a half hour drive to Dorado, you pulled into his driveway and parked across the open third-car garage. You confirmed with a quick peek as you rounded the car to get the groceries that Camille's luxury sedan wasn't in the garage, so with a relieved exhale, you retrieved the bag with the movie rentals and headed up to the front entrance.

The door was already open and your father was meeting you on the tiled front step to help you with the bags.

"How are you doing, tesoro?" he greets and kisses you on the cheek before taking the bags into the kitchen while you shut the door behind yourself before following.

"I'm good. How about you? Looking forward to going to D.C. for the big meeting?" is your retort.

He grunts wryly. "It's just a meeting. But I'll be there on lots of other business. What've you got there?"

At him gesturing to the bag in your hand, you reach into it and retrieve the three VHS rental movies and show him the stack so the labels are facing him. "I thought we could have a movie night. I haven't watched the third one yet."

The three movies are The Godfather, parts one through three.

Smiling broadly, your father is visibly pleased as he muses, "That'll take us the rest of the day to watch. Are you sure you're up for that?"

"Well we have to rewatch the first two parts to be reminded of everything before going into part three. It can also play in the background while I cook, no?" is your affable reasoning as you place the movies on the coffee table in the living room before returning to the kitchen to start unbagging the groceries.

He agrees, and soon you're both spending quality time together.

By nightfall, you're both engrossed with the final film while partaking in the leftover empanadas you'd made earlier.

You're on your fourth rum and coke, which pairs great with the empanada you're currently dabbing some hot sauce on while watching the drama, unaware of your father's pensive glance.

"I had the maid turn down the guest bed," he mentions as innocuously as he can.

You chew your bite and shift in your seat to look over at him. Swallowing, you retort, "I wasn't planning on spending the night, Pá."

You can see the furrow in his brow smoothen as he tries to not look judgmental. "I don't want you driving home so late. You've been drinking—"

Realizing why he's worrying, you wave him off, assuring, "I'm perfectly capable of driving. And I don't want to overstay my welcome."

He pauses the movie and frowns before weighing his options in how to respond. He seems to settle for, "I'd feel more comfortable if you spent the night, mija."

Finishing your empanada, you ruefully shake your head before washing it down with a sip of your drink.

"Unless Javier could come pick you up?"

Being a few drinks in, the indignant fire doesn't reach your eyes as quickly as it would've had he made the suggestion earlier. Deciding to relent, just a little, though, you muse impassively, "He's on a business trip."

Humming, he takes a long sip of his own drink before exhaling and attempting to capitalize on not being rebuffed on the topic like you'd done occasions prior. "Things are going well, then?"

You can't help sigh, because you truly do not want to argue with or snap at your father, but his constant need to broach the subject of your personal life aggravates you. So, you try to count to ten before placing your drink glass back onto the coaster on the coffee table before you answer him.

"I take it you haven't been able to get a rundown from anyone else on the matter?"

You turn to look at him directly, eyes frank as your brows quirk upwards in query.

He frowns, before responding in a mild baritone, "I'd rather ask my daughter about her life. Is that so wrong of me?"

You take a cleansing breath through your nose and let it out slowly before answering carefully, "Pá, I just don't want to end up arguing with you about my life. I don't want to be browbeaten by you, or feel like I have to defend myself—"

"I'm not asking you to, tesoro," he grumbles in a low tone, before pressing, "I just want to know you're all right."

"I am. But I know that's not all you want to ask, and I don't want to go down this road and end up with us getting upset," you tell him bluntly, crossing your arms and leaning back.

His jaw squares in impatience with you, but instead of snapping crossly like he would've in your youth, your father huffs and crosses his own arms to stare at you keenly.

"Just tell me one thing, and I won't broach the subject anymore," he proposes in his deep, raspy pitch. When you nod, his features relax minutely as he asks, "Does he make you happy?"

"Yes."

You responded without an ounce of hesitation, and the way your expressive gaze lit up with clear affection for this Javier Peña who makes you happy – as if he'd flashed across your mind's eye as you answered, made it easy for him to surrender.

With a hum, he presses the button on the remote so the VCR resumes the movie.

"Good."

You're pleasantly surprised.

When the movie ends a short while later, you surprise your father by agreeing to spend the night. So once you've packed the leftovers and washed the dishes, you kiss him on the cheek and go down the hall to the back guest bedroom.

Around the same time you're exiting the shower to get into a flowy nightgown and slip under the cool covers of the plush bed, Javier is just getting into his hotel room on St. Thomas.

After landing and spending most of the day getting shown around by Steve's ASAC, Sam Petersen, he was bone tired, and looking forward to just crashing. Tossing his suitcase onto the ottoman at the foot of the bed, Javi tiredly empties his pockets and places everything on the night stand before dropping down onto the mattress and kicking his boots off in order to lie back and stretch his aching muscles. Lulling his head to the side, he sees the alarm clock lists it being just after 11:45pm.

Even though he'd warned you he probably would get in too late to call tonight, he wished he could hear your voice before bed. Deciding he didn't want to risk waking you up, he lumbers up off the bed and starts stripping on his way to the bathroom. One nice hot shower a few minutes later, and he's trekking back into the cool airconditioned room in just a towel, yawning noisily as he unzips the suitcase and flips the top open in search for some boxers or pajama bottoms to wear to bed.

The exhaustion clears from his eyes when he sees just how neatly you've packed everything. His toiletry bag is snug in the center while two pairs of suits are crisp and folded just right that all he need do is put them on hangers, the dress shoes were buffed and shined, and everything else was tucked and rolled for easy arranging. Even the soft cotton dark gray boxers you packed were arranged right on top of the main folded pile, so he wouldn't have to rifle for them.

Seeing as St. Thomas would be their base of operations for the next few days, Javi goes to work unpacking the items you took the time to iron and steam for him.

When he gets to the assortment of button-down shirts you packed for more casual workdays, he's surprised to find a square envelope hidden underneath them. Placing the shirts on the dresser, he picks up the envelope, opening it and finding a crisply folded sheet that looks like was carefully pulled from the planner he's seen you write reminders in.

Unfolding it, he finds a note, written in your lovely handwriting.

Javier,

Since you'll be busy and likely unable to chat much while you're away, I figured I'd write you an important reminder: I love you, with all my heart. And everything you do, it matters. I'm proud of you, and I'll be thinking about you, and wondering how I got so lucky to have you.

Please, be careful, and give yourself grace. Especially if you find yourself in a moment of frustration. I know how invested you can get when you're on the case, so just remember that you're not alone in it. And let Steve take on some of the stressing!

Missing you, chulito.

Soñaré de ti, mi amor. Sueña de mi, mi cariñito.

Love,

Celina

Heat fills his chest, making his heart feel full and immense at your words. It's then, when he's about to tuck the note back into the envelope, that he notices there's something else inside of it. Slipping it out, he ends up staring at the snapshot.

It's a photo of you, posed sultrily – sat at the foot of your bed, in only the nighty with the slit up the thigh. And from the looks of the angle the photo was taken, he realizes you must've found a timer on the Polaroid camera and set it on the dresser to snap you while you struck the sexy pose.

Completely floored, he's so lovestruck that it takes him a second to realize that the soft garment that the envelope was placed on is actually the silky nighty you have on in the photo.

He picks it up and brings the delicate garment to his nose. It's laced with the scent of your skin, with hints of your sweat and the fragrance of your body lotion, as well as the lingering traces of your soap, fresh smelling laundry detergent and fabric softener. A smile warms his face when he realizes that's what you meant. That he can dream of you because he'll have your alluring scent with him as he drifts off to sleep.

Tossing the towel away from his waist to plop into the bathroom's tiled floor, he quickly pulls on his boxers and goes to stretch out on the bed with the treasures you slipped into his suitcase. The look in your eyes in the photo is dazzling and flirty, and your smile is cheeky yet sexy.

Javi wonders when you would've taken it, and his mind whirs through the recent moments that have passed between you both – suddenly remembering you'd been wearing the silky nighty the late evening he'd come to spend the night at your place after a very long day of being holed up with tax officials in Hacienda, the Department of Treasury of Puerto Rico.

The local government had cleared the DEA's request to review any and all flagged income tax accounts suspected of possibly acting as shell corporations for money laundering, as well as the list out of those that had come up in property seizure documents across the Caribbean region that had so far been catalogued by the forensic accountants. He'd spent almost twelve hours in the building, and during one of the coffee breaks, he'd called you to check in. You'd managed to cajole him to come spend the night at your place since it was much closer to Hacienda. And since he'd driven himself that day, he was more than happy to agree.

You'd been in your silky robe when you'd answered the door late that night, and he'd been so exhausted that you'd towed him to your room, stripped him of his clothes, and herded him to bed. With the lights shut, you'd curled up against him under the covers when he'd looped his arm around you and held you close, and your warm skin and the soft scent of your hair had lulled him into a deep slumber. He hadn't realized you were in the sexy nighty that had become his favorite of them all until the next morning when you'd stirred him awake with a gentle kiss to his forehead before lovingly caressing his relaxed features and liltingly murmuring his name. His eyes had dreamily gazed up at you, focusing on your mussed hair and how the early morning rays spilling in from the hall framed you, sat at the edge of the bed.

"Javi, it's almost 7. Do you have any early meetings?" you'd murmured, gliding your palm along his deltoid, bright eyes and fresh features bare, with only affection radiating down at him.

He'd stretched to roll onto his back, reaching his hand to cup your knee as he shifted up on his elbow and stifled a yawn before mumbling in a raspy husk, "Mmmph, yeah. A very important one," before seamlessly whisking you up and over him to sprawl onto the bed. You squeaked in surprise and then giggled when he rolled on top of you before crooning, "That is, if you can pencil me in, jefa."

"Oh, I just so happen to have some time right now, agente," you purred teasingly as you'd wrapped your arms around him and kissed his smiling lips.

When you'd both gotten hot and heavy, you'd tried to shimmy the nighty up and off, but he'd stopped you. "No, keep it on," he recalls rumbling before kissing a path down your body in order to bury his head between your welcoming thighs.

Arousal curls hotly down into his loins at the memory of you crying out and gripping his hair when you'd orgasmed on his tongue and sobbed his name in a breathy whimper.

Javier had to slam the proverbial breaks on his raunchy thoughts racing off into reliving how you'd stopped him from smugly leaving you sprawled on the bed to instead order him to strip his boxers off before you pushed him down onto the rumpled covers and yanked your nighty off, climbed on top of him, and rode his cock while squeezing his hands after interlacing your fingers with his and holding on as you rocked each other into an incandescent climax.

Shimmying under the blanket, Javi shuts the night table lamp off and stretches out with your nighty draped over the adjacent pillow, and drifts off to sleep with your scent soothing him and the photo tucked against his palm and the silky garment.

It's the best night of sleep he's ever had while away from you.

You, on the other hand, did not sleep very well.

Waking up with a slight hangover, thanks to how stiff your father pours drinks, you'd slithered out of bed and took a hot shower to try and revive yourself. Thankfully, by the time you'd wandered down to the kitchen, he'd already made a pot of coffee and there were an assortment of pastries and fruit to choose from on the grand island counter. He was sat at the nice eat-in table by the wide window, reading his morning paper.

"Doña Lana can make you anything you'd like for breakfast. She's just running the washer," he remarks without glancing away from the Op-ed he's skimming.

"That's alright. The coffee and this pastelillo de guayaba will be more than enough," you retort smoothly as you pour yourself a cup and pick up the pastry to go sit at the table with him. "What time is your flight?"

"Just before noon," he answers and folds up the newspaper to set it aside so he can sip from his own mug, eyeing you over the rim.

The respite of having a nice cup of strong coffee and a deliciously flaky and sweet pastry in a comfortable silence is short lived when he clears his throat and finally says what he's wanted to say for a while now.

"I'm really glad we've been spending more time together, tesoro. I was hoping you'd be open to getting together when I get back? Perhaps a dinner or outing, that doesn't exclude Camille?"

You silently seethe and count to ten as you finish your last bite. Washing it down with a long sip of coffee, you busily dab the napkin to your lips and use it to dust the powdered sugar from your fingertips.

"I'd like to keep this up, Pá. But I can't agree to that and be expected to grin and bear her," you tell him honestly, trying to keep all emotion from your tone.

He absorbs that, before crossing his arms and giving you an intense stare.

"All she's wanted is to be considered family, and she's done nothing but be supportive of us catching up for lost time…but I can tell it's begun to upset her, being excluded. It would mean a lot to me," is his bass-filled petition, his brows furrowing hopefully when you don't immediately scoff or shake your head. "You could invite Javier along—"

"Let's not get carried away," you finally sigh and idly brush the rogue strands of hair back from your face. You see a flicker of disappointment etch his features, so you dramatically huff before deflating back in your chair, then clear your throat before graveling, "Hmph…"just when I thought I was out, you pull me back in!""

Your father cracks a broad smile at that before chuckling, "That movie was terrible."

"Right?! I was so surprised by how bad it was," is your irreverent comment, snickering as you lean forward to prop your elbow on the table, "It did have some decent one-liners, though."

He grunts, before quoting, "Never hate your enemies. It affects your judgment."

Laughing, you quote back, "Never let anyone know what you're thinking."

He laughs along, but then surprises you when he reaches his hand out to affectionately squeeze your propped up forearm, before gazing warmly at you, as he quotes, "A man who doesn't spend time with his family can never be a real man."

It takes you off guard, to hear him quote that line. Truthfully, it disarms you, so you lean back and take his hand.

Just like when you were little, his hand dwarfs yours, and a heartstring tugs in your chest as you remember how much you'd loved walking with your father, holding his hand.

"Ok. I'll think about it," you murmur and give his hand a squeeze.

When you hug him goodbye a short while later, you wish him luck on his meetings, and he promises to call you once he's back on the island.

Both you and Javier have such hectic days that you don't get to check in with each other until very late that evening.

He's just returned to his hotel room and begins eagerly stripping his blazer and yanking his tie loose when his cell phone starts ringing in his pocket.

Retrieving it and pressing the button to answer, he props the phone to his ear with his shoulder as he toes off his dress shoes and empties his pockets. "Hello?"

"Hey, hermoso. It's not too late to chat?" your smooth lilting voice queries over the line.

"No, I actually just got back to my room," he assures as he sits to lounge back against the headboard of the bed. Stretching his legs out and crossing them at the ankles, he exhales relaxedly before asking, "You missing me as much as I miss you, preciosa?"

He hears you snicker flirtatiously before musing, "Depends on how much you're missing me."

"Ah, if you're gonna be that way, I'm just gonna get ready for my date with the sexy little thing I got waiting in bed with me then," Javi tauntingly croons as he pulls out your photo from his wallet left on the nightstand and smirks when you make a grumpy little sound of disapproval.

"Well, stud, go right ahead. I have my own date in bed too," you counter sarcastically.

Grunting, Javier mutters flatly, "See, when you say it, it's way too believable—"

Snickering dismissively, you deride, "Hah, mira quien habla. I told you they used to call you el guapo descarado around the embassy. I never got such an apodo—"

Quippingly, Javi cuts in, "No, you were 'that ferocious little minx' and 'a knockout', oh and 'drop-dead gorgeous'—"

Your dramatic sigh has him pausing to grin, then chuckling when you grumble, "Tan chavón."

Humming innocently, he drawls in a gravelly murmur, "The only thing I got a date with, is your sexy nighty. I slept like a rock last night thanks to it."

"Ah, so you found it," you chime coolly, and he can hear the shifting of the covers as you pull the quilt back and slide under it. "I'm hoping to have a better night's sleep thanks to cuddling your shirt tonight."

"You spent the night at your dad's?" he queries as he unbuttons his dress shirt open and pulls the tails loose from the waistband of his slacks.

"Yeah. I ended up having a bit too much to drink, so I crashed in the guest room," you reply before redirecting, "So, how's St. Thomas?"

"It's alright. Sunny, but hot. Luckily, we've spent a lot of time indoors, dealing with CBP's Office of Field Operations here," is his smooth reply, hand idly brushing the curls of hair fanning over his forehead back as he grouses, "They're being pains in the ass."

"Oh?" you query curiously.

"Yeah, there's always been inter-agency static between DEA and CBP. They're wanting to red tape us to a point of impatience. But really, they're just trying to keep all the action for themselves, and don't want DEA oversight," he explains before huffing his aggravation from his tone, to add, "Anyway, we got one more day here, then it's off to St. John."

"Hang in there, boss man," you quip impishly, before asking, "Did you find the envelope?"

"Yes, I did. And you're a wicked little tease for slipping that photo in," he retorts with a smooth, canela-dipped rumble in his voice.

You giggle, and it makes that funny tickle flutter heat in that spot behind his sternum.

"Just a little reminder of what you have to come home to, guapito," is your smug purr before you end up stifling a yawn. "So you know, I meant everything I wrote. And I really miss you, Javi."

That radiating feeling throbs in his chest at your words. He's carried your letter in his pocket all day, sneaking it out of the envelope to skim it whenever he had a free moment. Picking it up from where he placed it down on the nightstand, he rests it over his chest as he stares at your photo.

You hear some rustling on his end of the line, and wonder if he's even read the letter, when he clears his throat and husks, "It means a lot. No one…I've never…It just means everything to me." Obviously fumbling with articulating his feelings, Javier huffs at himself before declaring, "When I get back, I'll do a better job, showing you how much it means to me, querida."

Clutching his pillow to your chest, you smile whimsically as you tell him, "I love you, Javi."

"I love you too, corazón," is his raspy murmur, before he purrs, "Dulces sueños, mi amor."

Feeling effervescently besotted, you susurrate, "Soñaré de ti, mi cariñito."

You both wish each other goodnight before hanging up, and sleep finds you both easily thanks to each other's scent lulling you into sweet slumber.

You do dream of Javier.

The sound of the tropical night filters into your dream as you're sitting in the passenger seat of the Cadillac. Javier is in the driver's seat, with one hand steering the wheel while his other arm is draped over the back of the bench. The scenery through the front windshield is of a winding, Puerto Rican rural mountain road at early twilight, but in the back windshield, it's the sunset sky over the Medellín cityscape. Javier's hand moves from the back of the seat to rest on your thigh, and when you look down at it, you're surprised to see your belly is swollen under a flowy black peasant dress with red embroidery on the hem and down the front collar.

You look over to find Javi smiling at you as the orange and blush-toned hues of twilight illuminate his profile. When you go to lean close to him for a kiss, you're suddenly jolted awake by your alarm clock blaring.

Scrambling over to shut it off, you flop onto your back and sigh confusedly up at the ceiling.

No dawdling. Doctor's appointment awaits.

The details of the dream were already fading into the fuzzy recesses of your mind by the time you're arriving to the waiting room. Signing into the log sheet at the front desk, you entered and found the space filled with a lot of other patients waiting their turn. You were surprised the office was busy so early first thing in the morning, but quickly abandoned wondering about it to instead let your anxious thoughts preoccupy you.

Another lab screening is due, so bloodwork as well as the usual checkup. Nothing's come back since the last one, so not likely to have any changes until the specialist reviews—

They call your name, and you snap out of your internal worrying to get up from the seat you were able to snag nearest the door.

It was for the best, you thought, to continue not mentioning your health concerns to Javi. You figured that until they were able to give you a definitive diagnosis, it would be pointless to make him worry. Sure, you also didn't want to spend too much time fretting about all the 'what ifs' that had already plagued you for months, but there was a small part of you that was already settling into being resigned towards what seemed like an inevitable outcome.

You didn't want to say it out loud, though. Not yet.

After taking several vials of blood and tagging them for analysis, your doctor charted your current weight and asked you about any irregularities in diet, if you'd been fatigued or feeling off.

Confirming that aside from still not menstruating, you felt fine, she asked, "And you're still sexually active?"

"Yes," you answer, worrying the leather strap of your purse between your hands.

"And it's been with the same partner?" she inquires, and at your nod, she neutrally asks, "Unprotected sex?"

"Yes," you confirm, tone a little tight.

"Hmm, well, I'd like to test to make sure you're not pregnant. I'll note it on the lab form as well," she clinically details as she scribbles just that on the form. "As usual, I'll call you with the results. In the meantime, keep your routine, and be sure to take plenty of vitamins. Especially with this flu that's going around."

You nod and thank her, still on autopilot from compartmentalizing the anxiety and dread the visit whips up inside of you.

A few minutes later and you're back in your car, feeling the pressure from worrying all morning begin to dissipate. Driving out of the parking lot, you cruise through the increasing street traffic as rush hour starts to congest the metropolitan roadways.

The radio is on your favorite station, and the morning program is recapping the latest local news when you notice that the car is starting to shake oddly.

Suddenly, just as you pass the traffic light of the intersection, you feel a sharp lurch before the undercarriage of the car slams roughly down on the pavement, as if you'd just hit the mother of all potholes. But then you hear metal grinding against asphalt, and immediately stop the car, only to find you can't turn the wheel to try and pull off to the nearest curb and out of the way of traffic.

Frantically, you keep trying to force the wheel, but it isn't until a bystander on the sidewalk rushes over and waves at you that you lower your window and hear him tell you that you're driving on the axel because your driver's side tire came off.

The next few minutes is pure chaos as car horns blare at you and impatient drivers zoom around your disabled vehicle into the opposite lane, which then causes a traffic bottleneck in the opposite direction you were driving.

After climbing over your center console to exit through the front passenger door, you manage to see the damage for yourself.

"Oh my god," you gasp at seeing that indeed, your entire tire – rim and all – came off the axel and was flung at the corner of the intersection.

Several calls later, and the police are detouring traffic while a tow struck is hitching your car to its flatbed to be transported to your dealership. With your work tote, workout bag, and purse in hand, you accept the tow truck driver's ride to the dealership. Realizing you're going to be very late for the manager's meeting, you get your cell phone from your purse and call Ellis.

"—Holy shit! Are you ok?!"

"Yeah, just a little thrown off. It doesn't look like I'll make it in time, so could you do me a favor and take any notes for me? Devon is in the Operations review so I—"

"No worries, kid. I got you. It sounds like it's gonna be another budgetary thing anyway," he assures and promises to give word to Olga so she can relay the news to Devon once he's back in your department.

The dealership is baffled when you explain to them what happened, and insist there's no way your recent service could've caused such an issue with your tire. Still, they agree to expedite the repairs and do a full diagnosis to see if anything else is wrong with your vehicle.

Unfortunately for you, they don't have any loaner vehicles available, so you're just about to ask them if they can call you a taxi when you remember that Kike had given you his cell phone number.

The congenial plainclothes officer is pulling up to the dealership not even twenty minutes later.

"Chacho, that sounds very scary!" he remarks, shaking his head empathetically after you tell him what happened. "If you need a ride later, I can take you home—"

"No, don't worry. While I waited, I called my friend to cancel plans we had for tonight, but she didn't let me and offered to pick me up," you reassure, smiling as you thank, "I appreciate it, though! I promise to call if I'm stuck for real."

"Ok, very good," he intones, as if satisfied, driving through morning traffic all the way to La Avenida Chardón where the U.S. Courthouse and Federal building are. During the drive, you ask him about how his training exercises went, and he jovially tells you how he's progressing and should be snagging the tactical ops certification in a month or so.

While you're hearing about the training Kike has yet to complete, Javier is standing under the shady canopy in front of the luxury store's display window, admiring the different, glitzy jewelry options arranged on the shelves and stands. The promenade is busy with tourists and locals alike, out enjoying the balmy Caribbean morning.

Just like that previous time wandering the jewelry district in Bogotá, Javier was perplexed by the variety of options – at the daunting number of rings one could possibly choose from. He was just internally admonishing himself for not having peeked into your jewelry box prior to see what kinds of rings – if any – you wore, for inspiration, when Steve approached his right side and hummed in goading wonder to get his attention.

"Well? Any of 'em catch your fancy?" he drawls as he squints at a very gaudy canary yellow diamond ring.

Grunting, Javi pushes his sunglasses back into place over the bridge of his nose before glancing over at Steve. "That's the thing: I haven't seen anything that feels like 'the one' – which as I say it out loud, sounds dumb," Javi mutters before looking back at the display.

Cocking a brow curiously, Steve remarks, "I mean, you were engaged once before—?"

"I didn't pick out that ring," Javi cuts in matter-of-factly, and Steve raises his brows in confusion, so he explains, "When we'd decided on needing to get hitched, Lorraine showed me an ad for the engagement ring she saw at the local jeweler's that she liked, so I got it and went to ask her father for permission. Showed him I already had the ring, so no one would suspect," he trails off before absently brushing the perspiration beading at his forehead. Running his hand to sweep his rogue curls back, he ends up shrugging, deadpanning, "I have no clue what she would like."

"I mean, when in doubt, a simple, big ole diamond ring should do the trick," Steve razzes and claps Javi on the back good-naturedly.

"No shit," Javier scoffs, griping, "But gold band? What shape diamond? I just don't know…"

Humming sympathetically, Steve was going to suggest maybe asking one of your close friends for help ring shopping, when a car pulled up to the curb and honked at them.

"Our ride's here," Javi mumbles as he walks by Steve, gesturing for him to hop to it. "Let's get this nonsense over with."

They both get in the SUV to be driven over to the U.S. Customs field office, and all the rings and twinkling diamonds fill his head as they drive to their appointment.

You're in desperate need for a break.

Once you'd gotten to the building, you'd spent the rest of the workday playing catchup. All your meetings had to be rescheduled and you hadn't had a moment to even grab coffee or a snack for lunch, so by the time 2pm rolls around, you're famished. Luckily, the conference call you had with a counterpart at the D.C. federal office got rescheduled for later in the week, so you decided to rush down to the cafeteria and get something to hold you over until dinner.

You've just sat down with your little tray at the table closest to the floor-to-ceiling-length windows that overlook the interior courtyard between the Federal and U.S. Courthouse buildings when you here a pair of leather-soled shoes clomping towards you.

"Well now, having a late lunch, signorina?"

You turn to see Agent Bozzi in a light gray suit and pale teal dress shirt, sans a tie. His hair is swept back and his beard is groomed differently than you remembered, but that smug smile and his cunning gaze is still filled with promise of ulterior motives. He's holding a big cup of to-go coffee, and is standing in that obvious way someone would to nonverbally fish for an invite to sit.

"Yes, it's been a hectic day, so just needed a snack," you reply pleasantly as you can, without trying to be inviting or obviously aloof. After all, you really just want to eat your salad and fruit—

Bozzi goes ahead and slides into the empty chair across from you, nodding towards your meal as he muses charismatically, "Pretty disciplined snack. Never would've guessed you for enjoying the forbidden fruit."

Arching a brow, you retort, "This is a pear. No apples today, although, the pomegranate is believed to be the more historically accurate 'forbidden fruit' of legend."

"Huh. I didn't know that," Bozzi drawls in a bass-filled reply, thick brows knitting together almost bemusedly while you begin to eat your salad.

You can see the gears turning for him to try and come up with something else to continue in conversation, so you decide to redirect, "Well, I hope I'm not holding you up from whatever required you to get that big caffeine boost."

His eyes crinkle at his cup and he admits, "Nah, I just needed an excuse to kill some time before heading back over to the Courthouse building—"

Of course… you acerbically think to yourself.

"—been burning the candle at both ends with this task force operation. Never seen anything like it. I've heard of a neighborhood being run by the drug dealers in Jamaica, but in a U.S. territory?" Bozzi prods your interest then, so you pay attention to his unfiltered remarking of, "Can't trust local PD to get the job done, so gotta let the experts take back the block."

"A block?" you ask.

Bozzi is pleased with himself, that he was able to pique your interest with that. "Yeah. It's classified, so I can't say too much, but a small-time gang took over a whole neighborhood, and even drew a white line in front of a specific block as a point of no return for the residents and outsiders. No one can cross it but the gang," he explains boldly before shifting the topic. "Anyway, the whole thing reminds me of a ride along I did once with the Italian special forces team the FBI partnered with outside of Rome. You ever been to Italy?"

You have to do everything to not roll your eyes at him. He was laying it on thick, and you'd fallen in the conversational trap, so you relented and answered, "Yes. I spent a season in Naples while my father trained at the U.S. Naval base there."

"Ah, long enough to pick up enough Italian?" he flirts, brows smugly cresting up as he smirks charmingly.

"Enough to get by, yes," you reply and take a bite of your salad.

He seems to decide then to give up reeling you in, at least for the time being.

"Well, I'll get out of your hair. I'll see yah around, director," Bozzi remarks and seamlessly vacates the seat as quickly as he'd taken it, and smiles at you as he exits with, "Maybe we can grab a real snack sometime."

You watch him stroll towards the lobby with that cocky swagger, and internally glower. How presumptuous!

The Bozzi drive-by has you rolling your eyes as you finish your snack, taking the pear with you up to your office so you can nibble on it in peace.

If Javier knew the FBI special agent in-charge had tried to flirt you up, he would be in an even worse mood than he was currently.

U.S. Customs had agreed to let them review their own surveillance findings for the investigation into the drop sites found in remote strips of beach, but had insisted they wouldn't compromise their UC's or the targets they were currently embedded with.

"—For the last time: I don't give a shit about their aliases. All we want are leads on the local players so we can trace any of them back to the surveillance targets DEA has in Puerto Rico," Javi impatiently snaps, eyeing the official across the table like he's an obstacle begging to be moved with force.

Steve, on the other hand, is sat next to Javier and is rubbing his temples, shoulders squared in aggravation. "What Agent Peña here is saying, is we're not looking to mess with your undercover agents. We're just looking for cooperation on whether any of the contacts they've made have mentioned any partnerships with the trafficking players running the trade in Puerto Rico," is his patient insistence.

The irony of all this, which they wouldn't find out about until way after the fact, was that U.S. Customs didn't have a real foothold with the supposed underlings to the traffickers, because the targets were acting as decoys.

Junior Capsula had learned from the mistakes of Escobar, and he wasn't as big of a come mierda as the Cali Godfathers. So, he knew to insulate himself and his real partners away from public view. And after that clusterfuck of a bust back in 1988 during that Operation C-Chase, it became more obvious that no one was to ever penetrate the smoke screen created to shield true leadership of the Familia.

Then again, though, his syndicate wasn't technically part of it.

Still, that meant creating not only dummy corporations, but decoy bag men and trafficking liaisons. The days of smugglers using banks to launder money, as far as he was concerned, were over. And with the current setup he was slowly building, he was sure to grow his empire and remain incognito.

After spending all day chipping away at the red tape, Javier and Steve got the intel needed and a commitment from CBP to keep them in the loop.

By the time he got back to his room, Javi needed a shower to wash the exasperation and angst off. Steve had agreed to skip dinner in favor of unwinding over room service and a long-distance call with Connie, so Javi took the opportunity to pack his suitcase for the early flight in the morning to St. John before tossing himself onto the bed and popping the kinks out of his back.

Picking up your nighty from where he'd folded it on the pile of clothes going into the suitcase, Javi drapes it over his face and takes a deep inhale through the garment. Your scent warms his blood, and makes his impulses itch.

The cool air in the room caresses across his bare skin as he lies there in just the towel, eyes closed and thoughts going lustful.

You've just gotten home after being dropped off by Zoraida. Your muscles ache from the kooky workout you'd tried out before dinner, and now full, you feel like you're in desperate need for a nice hot soaking bath before crawling under the covers.

The bathtub is halfway full and you're just about to climb in to sit on the ledge and let your feet dip into the warm water when your cell phone starts ringing.

Rushing to retrieve it from the bedside charger, you answer it while adjusting the fluffy towel around your torso.

"Hello?"

"I really wish you'd packed a pair of your panties along with the nighty."

Scoffing a simpering laugh, you go lean back against the doorway so you can keep watch of the tub while it continues to fill. "As if I'd pack skanky panties into your luggage and run the mortifying risk of them searching your suitcase at customs!" you deride sassily, grinning when he grumbles contrarily at that.

"Tan chingona," he deadpans, before letting loose a ruminating exhale.

Humming curiously, you ask, "Something on your mind?" then add, "Bad day?"

"Just a ball-busting kind of day. Nothing worth mentioning," is his monotone gripe, before he queries, "How was your day, cariño?"

You don't really want to tell him about the chaotic day, especially the incidents with the car and Agent Bozzi, so you simply respond, "It was busy! And I capped it off by going with Zoraida to try out this Pilates thing, so after I finish this hot bath, I'm taking my tired ass to bed."

"Pilates?" he remarks on a grunt.

"Yeah, it's the latest workout, I guess. All about precise ranges of motion and they use this machine that kind of looks like a torture rack to stretch your muscles and make you hold into positions to strengthen your core," you tell him as you walk over and turn the faucet of the tub off. "I'm probably going to feel like I was beaten with a stick in the morning."

"Jesus, don't overdo it, baby," is his rumbling tut, but you can hear the lopsided smile in his voice when he adds, "I think you should just stick to our special regiment and let me work you into positions that'll have you feeling good, instead."

You snicker, "Beyako," and smirk when he chuckles cockily at your ribbing. "You guys are flying out to St John in the morning still?"

"Yep. We'll be there a few days. Steve's ASAC has a lot of meetings set up for us," he replies on a huffy sigh.

Pouting, you chime, "You can do it, gruñón. I believe in you."

Javi blows a raspberry at that. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, bravita. Now, go have your bath. I'll call you tomorrow night," is his rugged murmur that has electricity zinging through you and into your core. "Goodnight, mi amor."

"Goodnight. Love you, chulito," you croon sweetly before telling him goodbye.

Setting the phone aside, you toss the towel onto the floor and slip carefully into the warm bath water. You practically melt as the heat seeps into your aching muscles, as you luxuriate with the fragrant soap you lather yourself up with before dipping below the surface and popping up for breath before lounging backwards against the tub.

When you get into bed and fall asleep, you're hugging Javier's pillow, with his college shirt tucked around it. Your slumber is sound and soothing.

For Javi, however, his night's sleep is filled with sexy dreams of you.

Needless to say, he's ridiculously horny when he wakes up early the following morning. The urge lingers in his core, even after he takes the edge off in the shower. Sure, it doesn't help that his salacious mind can't stop thinking about you. That when he brushes his teeth, the image of you smiling brilliantly at him fills his mind's eye. And when he shaves, the hickey you left on his neck, while mostly healed, still taunts him with the memory of how wild you got as you reached bliss and reveled in the throes of pleasure that he gave you.

By the time he was riding down in the elevator with Steve to check out, he felt like an animal in a rut. And once they were waiting at the gate to board their hour-long flight, Javi was craving a cigarette bad.

"Fuck, you got any nicotine gum?" Javier asks Steve as he rifles through the front zip pockets of his suitcase.

"Yeah," Steve goes into his pocket for the pack he keeps on him. "Here, take 'em. I'm on the patch."

Javi takes the pack and immediately pops one of the gums out of the tray packaging. Tossing it into his mouth, he chews and pockets the rest in his jeans. "Thanks. I knew I forgot to pack something," he grumbles as he sits back and absently scrubs his hand along his jaw, exhaling soothingly when the familiar tingle disperses from the gum.

"Technically you didn't pack the suitcase though, right?" Steve jibes, twirling the pen he's plucked from his polo's breast pocket.

The smile crests his lips before he can even try to feign coolness. "She surprised me with it, then packed everything immaculately for me. But I haven't been relying on the gum as much lately, so I didn't have any lying around," he replies as he tucks the gum into his cheek and checks his watch. "How're Connie and the kids?"

Steve grunts lamentingly. "Olivia caught the flu from school, so Connie picked her up early and took today off to stay home with the girls. She's keeping Isabel away to avoid her catching it, which you can imagine isn't easy," he explains, frowning. "She said flu cases have been spiking the last week."

"Shit, that's rough. You're gonna have to make it up to her big time when you get back," Javi states the obvious and nods sagely at Steve, which always gets the gringo's goat.

"Says the guy who came down here to marry the girl he let get away, and he hasn't even gotten his shit together to pick out a ring," Steve instigates right back and cocks his eyebrow snootily at him. Seeing the comment needle Javier enough that he broodingly crosses his arms and huffs crossly out of his nose before staring at the terminal's foot traffic, Steve sticks his lower lip out as he grunts, before divulging, "I think you're overcomplicating the ring thing. Celina is not a flashy lady. I'm sure a nice, classic ring with a simple diamond in the middle will make her more than happy. And anyway, you can get fancy on the actual wedding band later on."

Absorbing that, Javi ruminates on it the rest of the day.

You, on the other hand, are doing anything but thinking straight right now. Not with how run down and sick you feel.

It started as a lethargic fatigue in your muscles that morning. One you easily chalked up to being sore from the workout the night before. You ignored it and went about your day.

The car insurance company was nice enough to expedite getting you a rental car to use while yours was still at the dealership getting repaired, and once in the vehicle, you'd commuted to the office. By noon, though, you'd started getting a congestion headache. You managed to make it to 3pm before you had to call it a day, feeling lousy and begrudgingly frowning when Devon had poked his head in to see you listlessly packing your tote as he remarked, "Oh no, you too, huh. Noreen caught the flu last week, and it's slowly been working its way through the building."

With your purse slung across your shoulder and tote hanging in your hand, you waved him away as you croaked, "I'm going to go home before I pass out. Now, stay away so I don't infect you—"

"Ah, I never get sick. I've been around everyone who's gotten the flu so far," he'd stated like it was irrefutable, before shrugging and insisting, "I'll cover that meeting at 4pm and have Olga adjust your calendar for tomorrow. You're definitely going to need bedrest."

You'd groaned, but thanked him before schlepping out as quickly as your aching body could. However, you'd gotten to your apartment and barely made it into your room before realizing you'd forgotten to finish an efficiency report due the beginning of the following week, and you hadn't packed your laptop.

Too drained to come up with a solution, you undressed and got into an oversized baggy t-shirt and crawled into bed. You had taken a dose of the medicine that was sure to knock you out soon, so you were hoping to get the ginger tea down to help settle your stomach before that happened. The chills had just started wracking through your frame as the house phone rang while you stood wrapped up in your throw blanket by the kitchen as the tea kettle heated up on the stove.

Croakily, you answer, "Hello?"

"Ay, no, you're sick too?!" Zoraida's dramatic lamentation sounds harried and raspy. "I woke up con la monga—"

"Join the club," you grouse, shivering. "And I was just at the doctor when she mentioned watching out to not catch it—"

"Ah! So you must've caught it and given it to me," Zoraida sarcastically chastises before breaking out into a coughing fit.

"Nena, it's flu season! Plus, wasn't that instructor last night sniffling?!" you lob right back, jolting when the kettle starts to whistle.

"Ah, es verdad. Que jodienda," Zoraida huffs over the line. "Anyway, I was calling to tell you I have to cancel going to the salon—"

"Obviamente," you laconically drawl as you steep the tea bag in the piping hot water you just poured before taking the mug back to your bedroom. "I was really looking forward to some pampering, too," is your gruff complaint. Once you've pressed the phone to your ear and gotten yourself situated in your blanket cocoon, you add, "This week ha sido una mierda, and it's not even over yet."

"Oh yeah?" your friend queries.

With the medicine cruising through your bloodstream, you're too sick to want to keep your guard up. Most of your energy was zapped out of you, so you end up venting about your week so far, not realizing how brashly detailed you're being.

"—Anyway, I'll stop ranting. Once we both feel better, we'll do the salon," you end up musing before you both wish each other speedy recovery so you can finish your tea and try to get some rest.

Javier tries to call you later that night, but you are dead to the world thanks to the medicine you took making you groggy. He figures you must've had a long day and fallen asleep early. But when he calls your cell phone, then your office line the next morning and gets no response? He starts to worry, and your home phone goes to voicemail after ringing for several beats. So, he calls Ellis.

The man picks up as he stifles a sneeze. "Hello?"

"Hey, It's Javier. Sorry to call out of the blue, but I haven't been able to get a hold of Celina," he explains, pacing the length of the hall just outside of the CBP conference room he and Steve had been in most of the morning. "Is everything ok?"

"Hey, Jav. One sec—" Ellis begins before being interrupted by another sneeze. "Ugh, sorry. Anyway, she's out with the flu. Probably sleeping it off. It's been running rampant in the building. Think I'm catching it too," is his congested explanation, before adding, "Poor girl's had a hell of a week as it is. I was planning on stopping by her place to drop off her laptop, so I can let her know to give you a call, if you want."

"Shit. Yeah, that would be great. Thanks. Hope you feel better soon too," Javi answers before they exchange goodbyes.

He's puzzled by the other man's comment, though. When you call him back later on that night, he's relieved to hear your voice and doesn't immediately remember to ask you about your week.

"—Hi, mi amor. I'm sorry I missed your calls!"

"It's ok, querida. Heard you're not feeling great," he replies, leaning against the banister of the patio he's currently stood on while the sun sets in the horizon across the way.

"I caught the flu. Minus Devon and Olga, almost everyone I know at the Federal office has been sick," you tell him in a tinny voice before coughing.

"Pobrecita," is his lament. "Olivia's been sick too. Shit's going around."

"Aww, bendito," you chime sympathetically. "The medicine I've been taking makes me drowsy, but I do feel much better than I did yesterday. Ellis came by a little while ago to drop off my laptop," is your comment before adding cheekily, "He told me you called him all worried about me."

"I did," Javi admits easily. "I'm glad you're feeling a little better—"

"Hey, Jav! You want another drink?" Steve interrupts as he shouts over from inside the house they're visiting.

"Babe, are you and Steve on a date?" you jibe impishly.

"No, you loquita," Javi snorts as he turns and gestures to Steve that he's still good with his half-filled glass of whiskey. "We're at his ASAC's place. Sam and his wife invited us over for dinner. I'm actually out on their patio. It's got a great view of the beach shore."

"Ah, that's nice! I won't keep you then—"

"When are you and I going to go to the beach together, eh?" Javi cuts in charmingly, before drawling, "Any secret playas we can go lay out on, just the two of us?"

You snicker, "Yes, there are a few, chavón. Hurry back so I can pack a beach tote and drag you along on a seashore adventure!"

"I'm holding you to that, preciosa. Now get some rest. Love you."

"Love you too, hermoso. Take care."

By the weekend, you're feeling almost 70 percent back to normal, with only a cough lingering now.

Your doctor had called with the lab results, and you were miffed to hear yet again that the results were 'normal' and requiring more observation, since none of the markers for thyroid, PCOS or pituitary issues were coming up that could explain the amenorrhea.

After also confirming you were not pregnant either, she surprised you when she asked, "Have you been feeling stressed lately?"

You'd been thrown off, but replied that you were of course stressed, but not in any significant way you felt was abnormal.

Deciding to schedule another checkup in a few months, she recommended you find ways to lower your stress, relax on exerting yourself in your fitness routine, and continue with vitamins to help build up your hormonal balance since you were probably still coming off being on birth control for such a protracted period of time.

The whole thing was aggravating you, which obviously wasn't helping lower any stress. Still, you compartmentalized the news and continued with your day, which was filled with playing catchup from your disastrous week previous, and looking forward to having that pampering session with Zoraida after work.

When you're finally basking in the lounge with Zoraida post-services, sipping your complimentary champagne, she decides to hit you with her nosy interrogating.

"So, when's your jevo back from his work trip?"

"He's flying back tomorrow night."

"When are we gonna meet him, hm?"

"Soon."

"Are we going to meet him before your dad does?"

"Probably."

"Are things progressing to him eventually meeting him, though?"

Scoffing after swallowing your sip, you gripe, "Girl, I don't know! I'm not following an itinerary or anything—"

"You said your dad's been insisting on meeting him, so I was just wondering," she defensively retorts, shrugging.

"…I did?" is your confused remark, brows furrowing.

"Yeah. The other night? You said your dad has been fishing for you to open up about him, and that he even suggested inviting him over to dinner—"

You truly don't remember that, and it's plain on your face.

"Coño, nena – no te recuerdas," she snickers, elaborating, "You were venting about how he's pulling on your heartstrings about it? Something about quoting The Godfather?"

"Hah, yeah, ok. Jeez, I'm telling you, that stuff had me groggy and drowsy," you ruefully shake your head and finish your last sip.

"So…does Javier know?"

"About my dad jodiendo? No—"

"No, not that. Does he know about the doctor's checkups?"

Blinking in shock, you realize you must've just rambled in your grogginess about everything that was front of mind for you.

"No. I haven't told him because there's nothing to really tell," you answer, sitting back in the lounge chair and running your manicured fingers over your freshly trimmed and styled hair absently as you confide, "I was hoping to know by now whether it's just residual hormonal imbalance from being on the pill for so long, but they think it's this condition—well, they don't know if it is because they haven't diagnosed any underlying causes—"

"I mean, you've been with only Javi this whole time, right?" Zoraida interrupts, and at your vacant nod, she presses, "Pues, since you've gone off the birth control. He's the only guy you've had sex with?"

"Zory, you know he's been the only one," you scoff, shifting in your seat while glowering at her.

"Well? Then maybe he's shooting blanks," she states like it's no big deal.

"…Zory," you begin, but then huff, "I'm the one not having a normal menstrual cycle—"

"Which your doctor said isn't totally abnormal—"

"Why are we even talking about this?!"

"Because! You are with this man who could get you pregnant any minute—"

"Por Dios—no he's not, because I'm more than likely infertile!"

You realize you've blurted it out and now sit there, feeling moored to the scary reality you've not wanted to acknowledge out loud.

Leaning forward and empathetically rubbing your arm, Zoraida assures in an unwavering tone, "You don't know that yet. Until you do, there's no point stressing yourself out over it."

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you feel guilty. You're unsure why.

"Anyway…did I tell you, that I think Rafa is going to propose to Naida?"

The new topic overrides the mounting rumination in your head and refocuses you.

It's a perfect distraction that carries you to the end of the hangout.

By the time you get home, you feel wrung out. Sleep comes easily, and the next morning as you prepare to go into work, you're feeling recharged – albeit still dealing with the lingering respiratory stuffiness.

You get completely caught up at work, and even have time to plan for the upcoming projects that will require you to travel in the next month or so.

When the dealership finally calls about your car the following day, you're hopeful that you can get back to your normal routine. However, you're surprised when they ask for you to come down so they can speak with you in person.

After work, you commute over to the busy avenue the dealership and its auto shop are.

You are brought into what would be used as a leasing agreement room, and are perplexed when the assistant manager and the lead technician enter the room with a bunch of documents.

They talk through all the repairs, show you photos of all the damage they documented when the car was dropped off by the tow company, and show you after photos. Then, they hit you with it.

"…You're saying that the tire was tampered with?"

"Well, we can't say that for sure—"

"Señorita, I'm going to be frank. I have been arguing that the kind of damage cannot be from negligence on our part. If when you'd gotten your tune up, we'd improperly tightened the lugnuts, you'd have noticed first thing. The fact that the incident occurred almost a week after the service? In my professional opinion, someone loosened those nuts—"

Truly flummoxed, you continue to listen to them, and make arrangements for the insurance rep to meet with them in order to review their findings so they can document their case. Said rep contacts you, explaining since there is no police report detailing suspicion of the car being tampered with, they would write it off as a sudden mechanical failure, with the cause as inconclusive.

Still, the rep can't help joke, "After something like this? I'd kick all the tires before I get in the car."

You'd dropped off the rental and gotten your vehicle from the dealership, finding that it drove fine the whole way to work.

The entire ordeal is so jarring and filled with judicious paper trailing that you end up not realizing you hadn't heard from Javi until that afternoon.

Going to the floor the DEA department was on, you loped down in the direction of Javier's office, hoping to at least pop in and say hello if he's too busy. However, when you round the corner and head towards his office door, you're surprised to be stopped by his admin, who clears her throat before stating curtly, "Agent Peña isn't in today."

You turn, internally wondering if you were misinterpreting the edge of her tone when Steve comes around the corner from his own office, spotting you.

"Hey, hun! Got a minute?" Steve greets and asks, gesturing with a point over his shoulder for you to step into his office for privacy.

Nodding, you stride coolly over and make it a point not to look in the admin's direction.

Once you're in the tall blond's office, he closes the door and accepts your hug and kiss on the cheek hello. "Is Javi at the field office today?"

"Nope. He's out sick," Steve drawls in his sarcastic twanging tone. At your gasp, he puts his hands on his hips and shrugs comically. "I know. He was complaining about having a headache before we got on the flight last night, and then this morning he called saying he felt like absolute shit, so I sent Segarra to the field office while I cover stuff here," is his explanation. "I told him to stay in bed, because he did sound like complete crud."

Crud was an understatement for how Javier was feeling right now.

He'd cursed himself the entire plane ride to San Juan for stopping into the duty-free shops in the terminal before boarding the flight with Steve, certain that tourist in front of him getting rung up passed his germs onto him after coughing in his direction. By the time Wilmer drove him and Steve to their gated neighborhood, Javi's head felt foggy and his throat started aching.

Dead-tired, he'd dropped everything in his room before going to shower. He'd put on pajama bottoms and gotten into bed with the intention of calling you, but ended up rolling onto his side and passing out as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Shivering under his sheets now, with cold sweat clinging to his feverish brow, he gritted his jaw with exhausted aggravation. He was thirsty, but too tired and achy to get out of bed and go to the kitchen. Aside from ibuprofen in his medicine cabinet, he didn't have anything to take for his fluish symptoms.

Just as he began to doze off again, the distant sound of the deadbolt lock on the front door being jiggled mutedly caught in his hearing. It wasn't until he heard it definitively unlock that he jolted up in bed and instinctively rushed to get up and retrieve his gun. Unholstering his service weapon where it was sat at the top of his dresser, he stealthily moved on feverishly trembling limbs down the hallway towards the source of entry for the intruder.

His shivering makes his shoulders quake as he stalks cautiously over, and just as he's about to switch the safety off once he's made it to the kitchen's bar top counter corner, the door opens.

You fumble over the threshold with your arms incumbered by several big paper shopping bags laden in your arms and plastic pharmacy bags hanging beyond your wrists.

"Jesus fucking Christ!"

You squeak in surprise at Javier's alarmed exclamation, and nearly drop one of the bigger bags.

Quickly placing the gun on the counter, facing away from you with the safety still on, Javi shakily scrubs his hand over his feverish features.

"Javi, you scared me!" you haughtily grumble as you kick the front door shut and rush to put the bags down in the kitchen. "What're you doing out of bed—?" you begin but end up getting hit with a coughing fit.

Scowling almost pitifully, Javi grouses, "I thought someone was breaking in—"

"With a key?" you mockingly sass after clearing your throat, eyeing him sardonically as you toss your purse off from over your shoulders and place the keychain down on the counter before rounding the bar top towards him. In the low light of the entry, you hadn't seen more than his silhouette but now up close, you see how clammy his bare chest is and how worn with fever his features are, so you frown and fret, "Ay, pobrecito. Come, you have to get back to bed."

He doesn't even have the energy to argue, and is actually feeling a bit dizzy, so he is more than grateful when you loop your arm around his waist and lead the way.

Once you've helped him back into bed and pulled the sheet up to tuck him in, you sit on the edge of the mattress and take his temperature with the back of your palm to his sweltering forehead.

"You're burning up," you lament.

Tiredly, he smiles as he reaches for your cheek before he affectionately brushes his warm fingertips to tuck your swaying strands of hair behind your ear.

"You changed your hair," he points out in a gravelly murmur, eyes creasing softly as he drawls, "It looks nice."

Snickering, you cup his flushed cheek and comically sigh, "Ever the charmer."

He grunts humorously. "Steve told you I was sick," is his raspy comment, parched lips pouty when you rush up to get a wet washcloth from the bathroom so you can fold and drape it over his forehead after you brush his matted hair back from his sweaty brow.

"He did. So, I picked up a few things from the store, and stopped at their house to get your spare key from Connie," you tell him gently, caressing his cheek and brushing your thumb caringly across his dark stubble. "Have you taken anything?"

"No," he answers hoarsely, throat starting to burn from talking. "Mmmph, feel like shit."

"I know, mi amor. Stay here," you murmur and quickly go get him some medicine and a big glass of water, stifling your cough along the way.

Once he's taken the dosage and drained the glass, you make another trip to return with all the pharmacy supplies.

"Ok, sit up for me," you instruct as you retrieve the container of Vick's from one of the bags.

"C'mon, I hate that stuff," Javi complains and laboriously sits up, scowling. "I just need water and to stay in bed. No need to baby me—"

"What're your symptoms, tough guy?" you counter, looming over him with authority. When he stubbornly shrugs, you resolutely state, "Quit being a brat, or I'll make you go to the doctor."

Too tired for that, Javi grumbles in defeat, "Fever, sore throat, my body aches, and my head hurts."

"I'm putting this on you, and it's going to help with all of that. Then you're going to rest and let the medicine take effect. I'll make you some soup, and you'll drink plenty of this stuff too," you're instructing as you place the Vick's on the nightstand in order to retrieve the electrolyte drinks you picked up.

"I don't want you to get sick—" Javi grouses as he tries to suppress a shiver.

"I'm still getting over what I had, so I should be fine," you counter smoothly as you open the bottle of orange-colored electrolytes and offer it to him. He raises his brows, almost goadingly, so you sit on the edge of the mattress again and press the bottle to his lips to feed him slow sips. "Malcriado," you playfully chastise after he's drank his fill, and set the bottle aside to then open the container of vaporub ointment. Dipping your fingers in and scooping a generous amount of the ointment, you judiciously start to rub and massage it into his chest, then up into his neck, as you teasingly chide, "Your latino card is gonna get revoked for saying you hate this stuff—"

"Burlona," he grouses, corner of his mouth tugging into a smile as he holds the cool compress in place on his brow while you continue to rub the ointment along his back now.

His frame shivers from the chills caused by the fever, so you prop the pillows up for him and have him lean back. "I know you feel cold, but it's actually hot and stuffy in here, so I'm going to turn the air on," you're telling him as you pull his coverlet up from the foot of the bed in order to tuck him in before getting up to turn the air conditioner wall-mounted console on, then retrieving the boxed thermometer from the pharmacy bag.

Javi's eyes are heavy lidded and his cheeks are flushed while the thermometer tucked under his tongue takes his temperature as you go run the washcloth under cool water in the bathroom sink again. He can't help feel like an overgrown baby for some reason, but a small part of him is indulging in your doting treatment.

Sitting back on the edge of the bed to place the compress to his forehead, you take the thermometer from his lips and read the temperature with a frown.

"100.5," you tut before setting the thermometer aside and affectionately caressing your thumb along his cheekbone to swipe away the droplets that have dripped down from the washcloth. "You're going to start feeling groggy from the medicine, so rest while I make you some soup. I'll wake you up once it's ready—"

His warm hand reaches for your wrist to keep your palm cupping his cheek, as he rasps, "You don't have to stay and baby me, querida—"

"No seas tan terco, and let me take care of you, Javier," you bossily cut in, smiling when he exhales humorously and purses his lips out at you. "Quédate quieto, y pórtate bien."

He nods obediently, so you kiss his nose cutely and set everything he may need on the nightstand, including a box of tissues, before letting him rest in the cooling bedroom.

It isn't until you're coming in the dark room with a tray balanced in your hands that he realizes he must've dozed off for a while. His sinuses are stuffy, but he can see the piping tendrils of heat coming off the large bowl of soup, and his mouth starts watering.

Shuffling up to sit with his back against the headboard, he drowsily rubs at his face as he yawns, "How long was I out?"

You manage to place the serving tray so that the legs bracket up to stand on either side of his lap before placing the cold glass of water on the nightstand for him. "About an hour. Here, let me know if it's too hot, and I'll put some ice cubes in," you answer and instruct as you dip the spoon in and raise it to feed the sip of soup to him.

It is incandescently hot, but in the best way, so Javi helps himself once you've handed him the utensil. Along with the large bowl of noodle-rich, flavorful soup with giant chunks of potato in it, he has a nice piece of crunchy pan you must've gotten from the bakery at the supermarket.

"Mmm, thanks. I was starving and didn't even know it," he rumbles with his mouth full.

"Well, there's plenty more if you get hungry later," you tell him serenely as you go to tidy up the clutter in his bedroom from where he'd just tossed his open suitcase and things from the night before. You notice a big shopping bag with the logo of the duty-free shops printed on the side of it, but don't move it or ask him about it. Instead, you arrange the rest of the medicine to be laid out on his nightstand as you remark, "I'm going back to the office to finish a few things, but I'll be back after work, ok? Be sure to take the next dose after you eat."

He grunts while slurping up more of the noodles before murmuring, "Thanks, cariño."

With his dark soulful eyes twinkling at you like that, you can't help lean down and kiss him on the forehead. "Call me if you need anything," you tell him as you walk to the hallway.

Once you've closed the door, Javi picks up the bowl and drinks up the remaining broth straight from it, having not wanted to be too much of a boor in your presence. With his hunger more than sated, he drains a bottle of the electrolytes before moving the tray to the unoccupied side of the bed so he can lie back down, tucked under the covers. The rest of the pharmacy supplies you bought that don't fit on the nightstand are arranged on his dresser for him, along with the holstered gun you must've returned while he was asleep. The sound of the front door closing and locking echoes from the main room, so he relaxes and closes his eyes.

He falls asleep easily to the ambient hum of the consola and the soothing chill of the cool air fanning in a slow undulation around the room.

Hours later, after finishing your work day, you grab your things and head back to Javier's. You're eager to spend time with him, and actually are looking forward to taking care of him for the night, knowing he cannot be trusted to not try to use whiskey to "sweat it all out" as Steve had told you he'd not-so-jokingly grumbled after getting dropped off from the airport the night before.

You park in his driveway this time and use the second key on the ring to enter the laundry room door entrance since you weren't burdened with groceries, hoping it wouldn't rouse your sick lover to come gun drawn again.

When you come into the main living space, you're surprised to find Javier wrapped up in a blanket like a human burrito, curled up on the couch and watching TV. The coffee table is cluttered with bottles of electrolytes, an empty glass of water, a half-empty box of tissues with the used ones crumbled all over, and the tray you'd brought the soup on stood up with what looks to be several bowlfuls of remnants on it, while the bowl itself is licked clean.

"Javier Felipe Peña, I told you to stay in bed!" you admonish imperiously as you march over and loom over him.

His stubble-covered features pout up at you, disheveled hair flopping across his brow as he clumsily tries to sit up while still keeping the blanket tightly wrapped around him. "I couldn't stay asleep and got hungry, so I came out to get more soup, but got too tired to go all the way back with it, so I parked here. It was supposed to be until I finished eating, but then I fell asleep again, and then woke up and figured I should just stay here," Javi rambles, and your smile gets harder and harder to repress the more he tries to justify and appease you.

Shaking your head sardonically at him, you put your purse and tote aside on the nearby chair and come over to sit next to him and feel his forehead for his temperature.

"Hm, well you clearly still have a fever, so c'mon – back to bed," you tell him as you brush his mussed hair back from his forehead before caressing your touch along his brow, then down to cup his cheek as you give him a quick peck on the lips.

He lets you help him up and maneuver around the tray to go down the hall and back to being tucked under the covers. You fluff his pillows, prop them up behind his back for him, and retrieve the next dose of medicine he should've taken hours earlier.

"Sorry you have to put up with this," Javi croaks after clearing his sore throat.

"It's fine. I knew you would be a little shit and not obey me," is your irreverent singsong, chuckling when he glowers at you, so you angelically smile as you feed him his medicine, before asking, "Did you like the soup?"

Grunting, he finishes swallowing before drawling, "I got some of my taste and smell back after the first bowl. It was really delicious. That wasn't chicken soup, though, right?"

"Nope. That was sopa de jamón. It was my Puerto Rican grandma's recipe. It's less prep, but just as hearty and flavorful. The saltiness of the ham and the sofrito gets sucked up by the noodles, and it forces you to drink lots of fluids," you pleasantly explain as you pick up the vaporub and open it in order to scoop ointment out to massage his chest with it. "Once the medicine kicks in, I'll go start dinner."

I could really get used to being spoiled like this, Javi thinks to himself, enjoying your massage, even if it's with the heavily fragrant eucalyptus-smelling ointment. But he can't deny how it's helped his muscles ache less and his airways open up more, and he easily dozes off to you rubbing your thumbs in slow circles along the spot where his lymph nodes are on either side of his neck.

When he wakes up next, he realizes that you'd found the portable TV that was in the spare bedroom and had rolled it into his room. The ambient glow from the screen helped stir him to adjust in a sitting position, where he turned to find you lounging on your side, napping next to him.

With your eyes closed and your head lulled on the pillow this way, he could see how tired you still look from kicking the remnants of the flu, and something aches in his chest at the realization that he'd not been around to take care of you, the way you so deserved and did so easily for him.

The early evening news is playing on the TV, but the volume is set low, so he sits up and tries to pull the throw blanket up to cover your shoulders.

"Mmm," you mumble and curl closer to him, before stirring and stretching your legs out while yawning, "Ugh, sorry. I didn't mean to conk out—"

Snorting, he leans over and kisses your cheek before murmuring in a gravelly husk, "Quédate dormida."

"Nope. Too late. I'm up now," you lilt as you stretch out your limbs before sitting up, stifling a cough into the pit of your elbow. Once the bleariness is blinked away from your eyes, you see that the feverish flush has dissipated from his cheeks, so you sidle up to him to take his temperature with your hand to his forehead. "Hm, think the fever has gone down a bit."

His dark eyes look dreamy as he gazes at you before he leans forward and nuzzles your cheek. "You're actually getting me hot right now," is his purr, and you snicker when he keeps nuzzling down your jaw and to the base of your neck.

"You're not getting any until you're feeling better, Javi," you murmur with irrevocable authority as you nudge him back and make him lie down so you can climb over him while you announce, "Dinner's been ready. Are you hungry?"

Javier loops your waist with his arm and hauls you back into bed. "I'm starving for you, mandona," he croons as he cuddles you and grazes mustachioed kisses into your neck. "Let me show you just how much better I feel—"

"Ah, Javi—your lips are all crackly and dry," you object goofily and wrestle him onto his back so you can straddle his lap and thwart his sexy advances. His mouth frowns woefully, so you snicker and coo, "Ay, no me mires así, bebito."

"Ugh, fine," Javi huffs in defeat and flops grumpily under you.

However, your dazzling smile and loving caress along his forearms makes it hard for him to keep the brooding façade up. And when you lean down and pepper soft kisses along his face, he relaxes totally. So much so, you're able to go plate dinner and bring it back on the serving tray you set up on the center of the bed so you can eat together.

While in mid-chew, you notice the duty-free shopping bag tucked in the corner again, so after you swallow, you ask him, "What's in the bag?"

He follows your glance, and smirks around his current mouthful. Washing it down with a gulp of water, he replies, "That, is a gift for you. And the likely cause for this fucking flu I caught."

When he gestures with his chin for you to go ahead and take a look, you amble off the bed and retrieve the bag. You pull out a very large and elegant rattan beach tote with smooth tan leather handle straps and tropical-patterned linen-lined interior.

"Figured it would make for a perfect beach tote for that seashore adventure you promised," Javier charmingly muses when you smile over at him.

"This is lovely," you gush, leaning over and kissing him sultrily on the lips. "Thank you."

With a smug grunt, he grumbles daringly, "I thought my lips were too crackly—"

"Shut up and let me kiss you, malcriado."

And you do, kissing him on his lips, cheeks, and all over while he chuckles.

After finishing dinner, you join Javi for a quick hot shower, surprising him with the bouquet of dried eucalyptus stems you've hung from the nozzle. It's an old rustic remedy – using eucalyptus in a hot bath or steamy shower to diffuse the invigorating scent to help with nasal congestion and increasing blood flow in blood vessels. But Javi had never been a fan of it, especially when he was a kid and every woman in his family would slather the stuff on him over any ailment.

"Ugh, c'mon!"

"They'll help with your congestion!"

"Are you feeling congested still?"

"Yes, actually—"

"Ok. Fine—"

"I promise it will help, gruñón," is your flirty assurance as you tow him into the shower stall with you once the hot water and steam is going.

His surly grumble was softened by his smirk and irreverent head shake.

In the end, you were right, and the fragrant steam saturated his skin and made it easy to take deep breaths in without coughing or sneezing. The pressure in his sinuses decreased, and he was definitely enjoying you soaping him up and rubbing his tired muscles. It did wonders for you too, relieving the congestion still lingering in your chest and alleviating your coughing for the rest of the night.

Afterwards, while he's getting into a gray pair of sleep bottoms, you strip the bed and dress it with fresh sheets before getting out a nice blue quilt from the closet. He comes over and helps you toss it onto the bed so it's arranged evenly on the surface. Pleased, you go over and playfully guide him backward to sit on his side of the bed before dutifully giving him the next dose of medicine that will help him sleep. You then return from the bathroom with your container of Vaseline and glide a dab-size of it with your little finger over his chapped lips before tucking him under the comforter. He caresses down the curve of your waist to squeeze your nightgown-clad hip, smiling when you lean down and kiss his forehead.

"Be right back," you tell him before going to shut the lights off and make sure the doors are locked. You return to the cool bedroom, with another glass of water for him and a backup box of tissues, to find him rummaging under the comforter in search for the TV remote. Snickering, you walk over and pick it up from the top of the TV set and walk over to hand it to him.

"What would I ever do without you," he schmoozes in that honeyed baritone way that always makes you grin girlishly, especially combined with his flirty caress of your tush before giving it a squeeze.

Pursing your lips saucily at him, you set the glass down on the remaining free corner within reach for him on the nightstand, as you simper, "According to Steve? Probably starve and 'sweat out the flu with whiskey', among other things."

"He's such a narc," Javi laconically sneers, but his mischievous smile widens when you playfully swat his hand.

Shaking your head amusedly, you go to open the drawer to store the tissue box. "I think it's great how you two are a platonic married couple at this point—" your wry joke skids to a halt when you look in the open drawer and see a small bottle of lube and a long-lost pair of your panties within easy reach. Gasping, you snatch the used garment out and exclaim incredulously, "Oh my fucking god, Javier! Are you serious?!" His big brown eyes widen as you hold the offending prize up for judgment, comically haranguing, "You freaking puerco! How long have you had this nasty thing, you beyako pervertido?!"

"That's a rhetorical question, right?" Javi sheepishly drawls, hands going up defensively when your narrow glare sharpens in that commanding way that promises something wicked his way will come if he keeps being naughty. "Since around that time we went to that fancy steakhouse with Sasha, I think," is his answer, and he gives you those damned puppy eyes when he leans over to try and coax you closer so he can take them back, while begging, "Please, let me keep them?"

Scoffing, you place the box of tissues in the drawer, shut it and pointedly turn on your heel to march over to the hamper in the corner by the closet to ceremoniously dump the panties in. Javier groans in huffy disappointment, scowling as he flops back into the pillows. He glowers as you snootily strut to your side of the bed, shut the nightstand lamp off, and crawl under the quilt.

Only, you don't maneuver to lie next to him. Instead, you prowl under the covers to lay between his legs before answering with snarky authority, "That means those were over a year old, you fresco. And, that you pilfered them when you were under the comforter – just like this – and went down on me that one time. Right?"

Before he can answer, Javi feels you blow cool air on his clothed crotch, making his semi twitch eagerly, and getting a gasp out of him. "Sounds about right, yeah," he croaks gruffly, hands gripping the sheets.

Dramatically tossing the quilt away so you can quickly straddle him, you impishly lean close until your lips are a whisper apart before purring, "Good. So you'll be a good boy and earn another pair by behaving and letting me take care of you, right?"

Javi's running hot now, and not just from fever. "Sí, mi patrona," is his cheeky husk, relishing how you bat your lashes and smile, appeased.

Reaching to turn his nightstand lamp off, you hum alluringly for him to kiss you.

His lips brush yours covetously before he rolls you both into the bed, making a happy giggle bubble free from your chest.

After some savvy coaxing on your part, you both end up tucked close under the blanket. The ambient glow of the TV screen illuminates his relaxed features as you soothingly run your fingers through his hair, helping lull him into the drowsy haze provided by the medicine hitting his bloodstream while you watch the late-night comedy show. Even in the chilly room, his body temperature is still running hot, so you make sure not to press up against his form and overheat him.

By the time he's snoring in deep slumber, you turn the TV off, and curl up to sleep.

The next morning, Javier's temperature is down to 99.3 degrees, so after you shower and get ready for work, you make him breakfast and serve it to him in bed. Begrudgingly, Javier had called out sick for the day, and you'd insisted that he take the medicine and sleep, but ended up compromising with him to take at least one more dose, and that he stay in bed resting.

"—Ok, I'll come around lunch time," you're telling him now as you pull on your heels and go to his dresser to hurriedly brush your hair up into a chic twist. "Need me to pick up anything while I'm out?"

"Not a thing. You've done more than enough, guapita," he responds from where he's cozily resting in bed, head propped up by fluffed pillows. The angle helps him appreciatively ogle you as you smoothen your white with black trim Georgette v-neckline with a spread collar and button cuffs blouse after tucking the hemline into the waistband of your stylish black slacks. "You look fucking sexy, so you know."

Smiling, you turn and abandon putting on lipstick to go over and sit on the edge of the bed so you can sultrily glide your touch from his bare chest to cup his chin before leaning forward and kissing him, then pulling back cockily to leave him wanting as you hum, "You're a sweet talker, but you better be a good boy like you promised, me entiendes, bebito?"

His eyes darken with want as he nods and husks, "I will, jefa."

With a gloating smile, you let him pull you back down for a long kiss before you say goodbye and head out.

Javi keeps his word, takes his medicine, and has a relaxing sleep for the rest of the morning.

Thankfully, your morning schedule is fairly light, so you're able to leave the federal building campus earlier than you'd originally planned for your lunch break. When you come into the house and do not find Javier sprawled on the couch again, you smile triumphantly, before heading down the back hall to open the door to his bedroom.

You find him watching the afternoon variety show, lounging with his back against the headboard and a pillow tucked behind his head.

"Well, I can't believe it. You actually behaved," you chortle as you toe off your heels and flounce over to sit on the side of the bed before feeling his forehead.

"You got so furiosa, there was no way I was going to chance incurring your wrath," he jokes, sounding a bit stuffed up, but clearly feeling better.

He smiles when you scoff and kiss his cheek. "You feel even less feverish than this morning. Is your throat still sore?" you ask as you stand in order to take off your tight slacks so you can get more comfortable.

Appreciatively, Javi leers at your perfect ass in the pink cotton panties as you slide your pants on a hanger so they don't get wrinkled. "No, just dealing with a stuffy nose now," he answers as he retrieves a tissue. "I might take something for it, though."

"Ok, good. I'll make lunch so you don't take it on an empty stomach," you're pleasantly retorting as you pull on a pair of lavender drawstring shorts and go to the hamper to quickly separate garments. "Might as well start some laundry while I'm here," you remark while digging into it to pile whites, darks and items for dry-cleaning onto the foot of the bed. "Is everything in your suitcase dirty? I can take your dress shirts and drop them off at the dry cleaners on my way back to the office—"

You pause as you keenly eye the three piles and notice something missing. Laconically, you stare over at Javier like he's a rambunctious puppy you just caught trying to hide a toy.

"Um, yeah, everything in the suitcase is dirty—" he begins to answer as he starts to get up from bed to go retrieve it for you.

"Uh-uh. Park it," you order saucily as you put your hand on your hip and gesture with the other, demanding, "Give them to me, right now, chavón."

His poker face is pretty good when he feigns confusion while he drawls, "I don't know what you mean—"

"Hand over the skanky panties you squirreled away, or you're gonna get it, Javier."

The lewd thrill your smoky command stirs in his core cracks his composure and gives him up before he huffs in surrender and reaches his hand down between the mattress and box spring on his side of the bed. The undies are withdrawn swiftly before he makes a big show of sitting up and shuffling along his knees towards the foot of the bed to cockily place them in your expectantly outstretched palm.

Humming glibly, you tut, "Caripela'o," while tossing the panties in the pile before playfully shoving him to lay back down on the bed.

He has a faux pout on his lips, but you can see the way his soulful eyes are crinkled that he likes when you sexily chastise him. You like getting a rise out of him, too, and really enjoy that he's going out of his way to comply, albeit smugly. Still, he behaves while you go through his suitcase for the rest of the laundry, and only grins when you retrieve your silk nighty from the pile and toss it at him before placing all the sorted clothes in the laundry basket and taking it to the wash.

While the first load goes through its cycle, you make a pot of rice and your Grandma's recipe for Puerto Rican corn beef, quickly plating the meal and putting a hefty slice of aguacate to go with it before taking the tray to the bedroom to serve Javi.

His attention is riveted on the afternoon news segment about the latest crime statistics on the island that the anchor is citing in reference to a spree of carjackings and muggings that had occurred earlier in the week.

"Here, mi amor," you place the tray to stand on the mattress adjacent to where he's currently sat, on the foot of the bed. "Hope you like it—"

The sound of his cell phone ringing interrupts as it buzzes loudly on the nightstand, threatening to topple the pharmacy items now haphazardly stacked next to it.

Shit—" Javi tries to maneuver to reach for it, but you're actually closer, so you go to the nightstand and grab it. "It must be the office—"

"Well, you're out sick, so they shouldn't be calling you at all," is your curt remark before you press the button to answer it with a professional greeting. "Hello, you've reached Special Agent Javier Peña's mobile phone line. Can I take a message?"

Javier balks at you, stunned that you would answer, but also overawed with exhilarated admiration for you and your chingona confidence – that you would unabashedly do something so flashy when not so long ago you would've avoided doing anything remotely similar.

"Oh, I-I'm sorry. I should've considered that he would be too busy to answer the phone," a raspy baritone with an earthy southern cadence to it that sounded distantly familiar to you answers sheepishly. "I don't want to bother him, so I'll call back later—"

Smiling brilliantly, you turn to Javi as you answer, "Ah, Javier's got plenty of time to prioritize a phone call from his Pop. If that's who I may direct as the person reaching him?"

The surprise melts into instant delight on Javi's face when he can make out his father's warm chuckle. "Yes, that's right. And I take it that I'm finally speaking to the famous Celina?" Chucho rumbles jovially back, making you laugh brightly in the affirmative. "Well if you're answering, I'm sure that means Javier is indisposed—"

"Ah, actually, he's home sick, so I commandeered answering his phone in case it was the office bothering him when they should be respectful and let him rest," you assure in a spritely tone. You go to sit beside Javi as you add, "Anyway, here he is," before handing him the phone.

The endearing warmth shining in Javi's dark eyes for you as he takes the phone and leans in to kiss you adoringly makes you tingle, but you flirtatiously snicker and nudge him playfully from getting carried away and neglecting the call further.

"Hey, Pop. Everything ok?" he greets and asks, watching you maneuver to sit on your side of the bed with your own plate of lunch you picked up from the serving tray.

"Yes, yes! I just, well…it's my and your mother's anniversary today, and I guess I was wanting to see how you were," Chucho's baritone rationalizing is pensive, yet lonely, and Javi internally swears and clenches his eyes shut in upset with himself. "Anyway, you not feeling well?"

You see Javi's shoulders droop before he answers tightly, "Pop…I'm sorry. I should've called earlier. The last few days have been hectic; traveling, getting the flu—"

"No-no, it's all right, mijo. You are busy and living your life. And, from the sounds of it, you're living it well," is Chucho's easygoing rasp, proudly adding, "You have a feisty, loving woman looking after you, so relish it, and don't take her for granted. And live in the moment together. You deserve to be happy, Javier."

The lump in his throat manages to get pushed down when he looks over at you and sees you attentively reading his expression, curious as to what has his dark chocolate eyes shining with unshed tears. "Thanks. I will. And I promise to come visit soon—"

"Don't worry about that. I know you're busy. Just try to keep in touch a bit more, ok?"

"I definitely will. Cuídate, Papá."

"You too, mijo. But before you hang up, put her back on the phone?" Chucho cajoles, and Javi snickers in agreement before offering it to you.

Smiling, you set your plate aside on the nightstand to take it. "So you know, you can rest easy that I will make sure Javi calls more," is your affable remark, squinting your eyes impishly at Javi giving you a deriding stare.

"I know you will, mija. And when you can, have him bring you for a visit. It's been long overdue that I haven't gotten to meet and thank you for taking care of my son. He really loves you, and as far as I'm concerned, you're already part of the family," Chucho charmingly extols. "All he wants to do is make you as happy as you make him, sabes?"

Feeling your heart summersault in your chest, you chime, "Well, he takes care of me too, and he does make me happy, so I feel the same way." You see Javier's expression soften at your words. Fearlessly, you add, "I love him with all my heart."

"I'm glad, and will keep you both in my prayers. Take care, Celina. Dios los bendiga."

"You too. Goodbye."

Once you place the phone down on the bed, you can see Javi is buzzing with curiosity, so you coolly return to your plate of food before musing, "Eat, before it gets cold, chulito."

He blows a raspberry before obeying, and ends up scarfing the meal down with gusto, savoring the fresh avocado he mixes in with the rice and criollo-style corn beef. Once he's washed it all down by guzzling the glass of water until it's empty, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before he sets the serving tray aside so he can stretch out to sidle up close to you.

"I'm such an asshole. I forgot that today's my parent's wedding anniversary…" he unburdens himself, tone self-reproachful. "I had my head in my ass—"

"Javi, you've been running around for days, then you got sick. It just slipped your mind," you console as you rub his bare back. "Your dad is sweet and kind. I'm sure he just wanted to hear from you. He didn't sound disappointed or anything. And, from now on, I'll badger you to call him more so he and I can chat away."

That feeling of radiating heat fills his chest and makes his bones ache with how much your words comfort him.

"You're too good to me," Javi murmurs with genuine feeling, and it makes you shake your head drolly. "I know it annoys you when I say so, but I mean it."

"Javi, it only annoys me, because it's like you're saying you don't deserve to be treated right," you explain, frowning when he tucks his chin in to hide his self-loathing expression, clearly annoyed with himself for saying what he thinks was the wrong thing. You shift to face him and cup his chin in order to tip his face up so he can look into your eyes as you profess tenderly, "You are the love of my life, and you're worthy, and I mean it when I tell you this: You make me happy, and make me feel deserving of love. I only ever want you to feel the same, so when you say I'm too good to you, it makes me sad, because it means I'm doing the opposite…that I haven't made you feel deserving enough."

He's never thought about it that way, and now that you've told him how you feel, all the self-doubt – the feeling unworthy – gets blasted away like shadows being banished by the light of the sun.

You see it etching plainly on his handsome features, so you kiss him lovingly on the lips before nuzzling him affectionately.

The way your incandescent grace fills him up has him hugging you tight, and you smile at his murmured sweet nothings he pours into your ear.

"…Te amo hasta mi alma. You're my everything, querida…"

Your heart sores, and you bask in his passionate embrace, cherishing the moment of serenity with him.

Once you've both become settled, you end up having to rush to turn over the laundry loads, then hurry back to get dressed again for work.

"Get some rest, hermoso. I love you," you susurrate, and kiss him goodbye on the lips.

"Love you too, querida," he rumbles and playfully glides his touch down your arm to clasp your hand as if he's not going to let you go before trailing his fingers away.

You snicker and wink at him before heading out.

More than content to lie back down and rest until you get back from work, Javi lets his thoughts run wild with the exhilarating promise of plans he's intent on making reality sooner rather than later.

Hours later, after a staff meeting to get progress reports regarding the different program initiatives everyone is working on, you're in your office finalizing some reports. It's close to the end of the day, and you're eager to wrap things up so you can head home to Javier.

Your cell phone starts to ring, so you answer it and multitask as you scan your report on the computer's screen. "Hello?"

"Good afternoon, Ms. Reinosa. My name's Ned Fuller, and I'm a CIFI for your auto insurance provider. I'm calling in regards to your automotive accident earlier this week. Do you have a second to chat?"

Thrown off, you lean back in your chair and focus on your desk, already retrieving the folder with all the paperwork from your tote as you answer, "Yes, I do. I'm sorry, CIFI?"

"Oh, my apologies! That's short for Certified Insurance Fraud Investigator. I'm actually a case manager who helps flag cases submitted by our insurance offices out in the Caribbean region," the man explains good naturedly, while still managing to fill you with dread. "Anyway, I wanted to call and alert you that while at the local level, there was no way to prove the vehicle malfunctioned without an external cause, when I read the case report, it alarmed me, as it was very reminiscent to a case I worked on in the Florida Keys a few years back."

"Huh…in what way?" you ask, pulling over a notepad and grabbing a pen to jot down any details.

"Well, it was a doozy. Basically, a wealthy financier was driving his vehicle towards the interstate on-ramp, when his tire failed and sent the vehicle careening into the guardrail and almost jettisoned it over the barrier. On closer inspection by the tech lab, they found the tire's strut mount had been tampered with. Turns out the fella was in a contentious divorce battle, and authorities arrested his wife," the investigator retells, before getting back to the topic at hand. "Anyway, while not part of protocol, I figured it would only be right to inform you of the red flag this raised for me, and caution you that if not caused by your dealership's negligence, there was this possibility—"

"I'm sorry. Are you saying that there's a suspicion—that there's evidence that my car was deliberately tampered with in order to cause the accident?" you inquire, flummoxed.

"…Well, on the record, there was significant damage done that it made it difficult to conclude the tire was tampered with," he begins, before confiding, "Off the record? I would say it's suspicious."

The man explains a bit more to you, but you're floored and completely caught up in a ruminating whirlpool.

Did someone…could someone have purposely rigged the tire in order for me to crash the car?!

As the thought builds up an ominous pit in your stomach, yet another makes you worry.

Who would go through the trouble of doing it…and why?

To be continued…

  ________________

Read Chapter 45: Deserving - Part 2

Spanish-English Glossary:

Partido Nuevo Progresista = New Progressive Party

Puntos = Points, as in drug points

Muecas = Making faces; grimaces

Querida/querido = Affectionate term, akin to expressing one's want and desire

Mi patrón = My master/boss

Malcriada/malcriado = Brat/spoiled

Traviesa = Naughty/Mischievous girl

Tentadora = Temptress

Mi amor = My love

Mi patroncito = My little patron

Bebito = Little baby (male)

Lo necesito. Te lo ruego. Por favor, mi rey. Seré tuya = I need it. I beg you. Please, my king. I'll be yours

Eres pinche gloriosa = You're fucking glorious

Chavón = A man that's pestering you

Corazón = Heart; pet name to signify how deeply you love someone

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

Guapito = Handsome (said in an affectionate diminutive)

Marquesina = Open air garage or carport

Deja con las formalidades, ya = Quit it with the formalities, already

Se me olvidó = I forgot

Reggaetoneros = Reggaetón artists

Perrear = Doing it doggystyle, aka referring to sex

Perreo = Dance style associated with reggaetón; doggystyle, twerking dance

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

Pórtate bien, y llámame = Be good, and call me

Cacos = Term referring to hardcore reggaetón fans, who are mostly men

Bailar = Dance

Ella es una mamita sabrocita = She is a tasty foxy woman

Claro que no = Of course not

She's a chulería – una bichota bien wapa = She's a charming gal, a real big shot lady that's real feisty

Pasarme así = Overstep like that

Gatilleros = Triggermen

Sobrepasarme = To overstep; to go too far

Solo le gusta hablar mierda = Only likes to talk shit

Pendejo = Dumbass/Jackass

Acho, que canto cabrón = Man, what an asshole

Tesoro = Treasure; darling

Pá = Short for 'Papá' which means father, or poppa

Mija = Short for mi hija, aka my daughter; my girl

Soñaré de ti, mi amor. Sueña de mi, mi cariñito = I'll dream of you, my love. Dream of me, my sweet little darling

Jefa = Boss lady

Doña = A Spanish honorific, referring to a respectable woman; equivalent to Missus

Pastelillo de guayaba = Guava pastry; similar to a turnover

Preciosa = Gorgeous; precious

Mira quien habla = Look who's talking

El guapo descarado = The handsome cad

Apodo = Nickname

Tan chavón = Such a pain

Canela = Cinnamon

Dulces sueños, mi amor = Sweet dreams, my love

Chacho = Jeez

Come mierda = Slang for a stuck up, moronic person; literally means 'shit eater'

Tan chingona = Such a badass lady

Cariño = Darling/sweetheart

Gruñón = Grumpy man

Bravita = Tough girl; feisty girl

Chulo/Chulito = Cute guy; little cutie

Ay, no = Oh, no

Con la monga = With the flu

Nena = Girl

Ah, es verdad. Que jodienda = Ah, that's true. What a pain in the ass

Obviamente = Obviously

Ha sido una mierda = Has been real shit

Pobrecita/Pobrecito = Poor little thing

Bendito = Blessed simple soul; a hopeful lamentation

Loquita = Crazy girl

Playas = Beaches

Jevo = Puerto Rican slang for boyfriend

Coño, nena – no te recuerdas = Damn, girl – you don't remember

Pues = Well

Por Dios = God's sake

Burlona = Joker (female)

No seas tan terco = Don't be so stubborn

Quédate quieto, y pórtate bien = Stay put and behave

Consola [de aire acondicionado] = Air conditioning unit/console

Sopa de jamón = Ham soup

Sofrito = Herbs, spices, and vegetables minced into a cooking bouillon paste

Quédate dormida = Stay asleep

Mandona = Bossy lady

Ay, no me mires así, bebito = Aw, don't look at me that way, little baby boy

Puerco = Pig

Beyako pervertido = Horny pervert

Fresco = a guy who's being 'fresh', or naughty/pervy

Sí, mi patrona = Yes, my madam/ boss lady/ mistress

Me entiendes, bebito = You understand me, little baby boy

Furiosa = Furious (female)

Caripela'o = Puerto Rican slang for a shameless get over

Aguacate = Avocado

Mijo = short for "mi hijo", a term of endearment akin to "my son/sonny"

Cuídate, Papá = Take care, Dad

Dios los bendiga = God bless you both

Te amo hasta mi alma = I love you to my soul; "I love you soul-deep"

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

[softpascalito]

Pregnancy Sex with Javier Peña

Summary: You're pregnant, Javier is overprotective. The problem: You're also really fucking horny.

Relationships: Javier Peña x Reader

WC: ~2600

Tags/Warnings: MNDI!, Explicit, Smut, F/M, Established Relationship, Pregnant Sex, Oral Sex, Vaginal FIngering, Penis in Vagina Sex, Aftercare, Idiots in Love, Creampie, this is equally soft and filthy

AO3 LINK

Notes:

hello loves! i have quite literally not written smut in years but i needed this to exist so here we are. some feedback or just a short comment means the world to me. and now enjoy! <3 - lea

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The curtains blew in the wind, moved by a gentle breeze. Bogotá was rarely peaceful. Even in the night, sirens and occasional gunshots could be heard, disturbing a city that was trying to sleep, trying to find some kind of peace in the dark.

For a long time, you hadn't thought it possible for something like peace to exist in this place. Then you had met Javier Peña.

And at first, he too had seemed like the furthest thing from peace. He was all marlboro reds and sleepless nights and gentle, brown eyes that had seen far too many people die.

You'd been sick this morning. Not actually sick though. 

Morning sickness had been plaguing you for a few weeks but up until now, it hadn't been as bad. Your body had flat out refused to keep anything down, including the medication that was supposed to help lower the light fever you'd developed by mid morning. 

Javier had insisted on getting Connie to take a look at you. If he had been overprotective of you before the pregnancy, you weren't sure how to describe his current state. Carrying a grocery bag by yourself was considered a high danger by the Agent, no matter how light it was. To everyone's surprise, the protectiveness hadn't stopped with you. He had not only started carrying said grocery bags himself but he'd also stopped smoking, which was considered nothing short of a miracle by everyone around you.

After his brief chat with Connie, he had taken half the day off, staying behind to take care of you even though you'd insisted you were fine.

At first, he had seemed like the furthest thing from peace. Then you'd gotten to know him and in return he'd gotten you pregnant. And suddenly Javier Peña had given you a peace and love so deep, you still couldn't fully comprehend it. You weren't sure he could either.

The sickness had lessened over the day, aided by Javi actually getting you to eat a little something for dinner. You had fallen asleep on the couch a short while later. Now, you were in bed, happy to have kept your food down. Still, your pregnancy had left you with a completely different kind of problem.

“Javi?” You mumbled into the dark, unsure if he was already asleep. It only took a second for him to sit up, turning to face you. Even with nothing but the low light from the street falling in through the windows, you could see the worry on his face.

“What do you need, querida?” His voice was a little rougher than usual after not having spoken in a while. Maybe he had in fact already been asleep.

“Nothing.” You mumbled, giving a small shrug. You felt stupid. This was stupid.

Javier sensed that there was some sort of hesitation on your part and he shifted a little, reaching out for you:” C'mere.” He whispered. You obliged, cuddling into his side as you looked up at him. He gave you a small smile and you couldn't help but lean forward, pressing a small kiss to his lips. Javier kissed back gently, never with too much force.

Taking initiative, you prodded his lips with your tongue until he opened his mouth a tiny bit, allowing you entrance. Your hand that had been resting on his chest slid down his shirt. Before he could realize what was happening, it had dipped under his waistband of his boxers and your hand was gently wrapped around him.

Javier finally broke the kiss and sucked in a breath:” Querida..” He mumbled. Just as you felt him twitch, he moved. Ever so gently, his hand followed yours and carefully led it back up to his chest, placing it there with a small pat. You pouted at him, even in the dark:” Look, don't laugh, please. Just, sometimes the hormones-”

“get you really fucking horny?” He asked with a small smirk, completing the sentence for you.

You frowned at him. His hand was still on yours and you turned it a little so your fingers could intertwine:” How do you know about that?”

“Read it in a book.” He replied simply. You raised your brows, unable to suppress a small giggle:” The book said “really fucking horny” ?”

“Something along those lines.” A low chuckle escaped his throat. You stayed like that for a moment, both grinning, holding hands. Then he spoke again, this time more softly.

“I don't want to hurt you.”

You had never thought you'd hear Javier Peña say that. Not that he had ever wanted to hurt you. He was an attentive lover and he was always careful not to go too rough on you. Clearly you weren't the only one changed by the pregnancy.

“I'm not asking you to hurt me. Im asking you to fuck me.” You hummed, again bold enough to take the lead as you rolled on top of him and sat up slightly. Your bump was barely showing and the shirt you had stolen from him hid most of it but a tiny curve was showing through the fabric, standing proudly over Javier's own stomach.

He opened his mouth to undoubtedly continue the discussion when you slowly began to grind your hips on him. Whatever argument he'd had prepared gave way for the breathy moan that escaped his throat.

It took him every ounce of self-control to not give in right there and then. When you leaned down to kiss him again, he took the chance and gently grabbed your hips, lifting you off him and returning you into a more comfortable position beside him:” Baby...”

He took a deep breath, propping himself up on his elbow to get a better look at you:” You sure you want this?”

You huffed:” Yes, I am sure. If you read the stupid book, you know its safe and-”

“Okay, okay.” He held up his hands in defense:” Just making sure.” His large hand wandered over your hair before gently caressing your cheek:” We'll do this my way.”

Even if you were unsure what he meant by that exactly, you gave a small nod. He had never not been good to you. You only hoped he wasn't trying to be too good.

Javier gently grabbed his pillow and gently pushed it under your back:” Let me take care of you.” He mumbled as he guided you to lie back into your own pillow, evidently trying to make sure you were as comfortable as possible. As he moved around you and adjusted the blankets, you got a good look at him. 

You weren't sure if it was the situation or the attention you had given him earlier but you could tell his boxers were getting uncomfortably tight. He didn't seem to mind, taking his time in making the surroundings perfect for you- you weren't sure exactly how the blanket next to you was going to heighten your sexual pleasure, but you were happy he was at least doing something.

Eventually, he returned his attention to your body and gently grabbed your ankle, running his hand all the way up your leg until it was resting on your upper thigh. His thumb brushed over the soft skin on the inside of it, drawing half-circles. You squirmed under his touch, trying to push yourself against him.

“So impatient .” He chuckled but he did use his other hand to slowly push up your shirt:” Have I told you how sexy you look in my clothes?” It came out as a mumble and you gave a small grin as you raised your arms to help him slide it off:” You have.”

“Good,” came his reply. He brought up both his hands to gently cup your breasts as he leaned down to kiss you again:” Just checking.”

He let his hands wander down to your round stomach and you could see his gaze change. He had those large, round puppy eyes that were reserved for those who knew him best and that always got the better of you- even now. Making you forget the need between your legs, you instead settled contently on watching him caress your stomach.

Javi apparently felt the same, taking his time to gently rub it before leaning down to give it a few kisses. He hummed softly as he kissed a trail down to the upper end of your panties. They slid down your legs in one quick motion and another soft kiss of the thigh was all you got before you felt his mustache brush against you.

He looked up at you for a fleeting moment:” Tell me if you need me to stop, okay?”

You nodded quickly. The need had returned and you wanted nothing more than to feel him.

Javi licked a stripe up your slit, immediately drawing a moan from you as you let your head fall back. He alternated between soft kisses and gently sucking on your clit, running his tongue over every inch between your legs before finally plunging it inside.

Your hand automatically wandered into his hair, pulling gently as you tried not to fall apart right away. 

His name left your lips more times than either of you could count, starting out as a soft moan and quickly turning into a whimper, begging for more.

“Javi, por favor.”

“Está bien, I got you.” He muttered, the vibrations of his voice adding an extra layer of intensity to the feeling of his mouth on you. He added one finger and when he realized how wet and open you were, a second one. 

The feeling of his large fingers moving in and out of you combined with his tongue still on your clit brought you to the edge faster than you wanted.

“Please, want you inside,” You whispered, gazing down at his brown curls peeking out between your thighs. He raised his head at that and you could see him carefully studying your face, his hair already messy from your attacks. Neither of you really cared. If anything, you thought it looked good on him.

“You sure it's not too much?” He asked again, not yet quite moving to fulfill your wishes. You gave a small nod:” I'm sure.”

You must have sounded more secure than you actually were because he gave an approving look and then leaned back to slide down his boxers, his cock springing free immediately. He was already painfully hard and you could see the tip glistening.

Javi gently spread your legs a little further, always careful to keep the position comfortable. He rubbed his cock over your slit a few times before giving in and slowly, carefully pushing inside. Automatically, your hands found him again, this time gripping onto his upper arms for support as you took a few deep breaths. 

He kept a watchful glance on you as he bottomed out with a small groan and stilled inside of you, clearly wanting to give you some time to adjust to his size.

You silently marveled at his self control. It wasn't exactly a quality he had ever lacked but you could feel how he was shaking a little more than usual with the effort of staying still.

“Doing so well, querida.” He mumbled as he leaned down to kiss your cheek, always mindful to not put too much pressure on your stomach. You smiled softly and ran your hands up his arms until they were drawing small circles on his back. 

You squeezed a little, a sign he had come to understand for you being ready.

Very slowly, he started to pull out again- just to slide right back in. He let out a groan that mixed with yours. Clearly satisfied with the reaction, he repeated the motion again and again- speeding up ever so slightly with each thrust.

It was a different kind of lovemaking, slow and gentle and easy, like both of you had simply been made to fit together like this, molded against each other's bodies. It was perfect. It was Javi. A different Javi than you'd met months ago. But still Javi.

One of your hands wandered into his hair again and it wasn't long before your whimpers from before turned into downright prayers, whispering his name over and over again as you begged him to give you more. Javier had lost his initial reluctance, daring a bit more, as he too, whispered constant praise into your ear.

“Where?” He managed to choke out, knowing he wasnt gonna last much longer. You used the hand in his hair to pull him down towards you, meeting his lips with another kiss, humming into it:” Inside.”

He looked at you for a split second and you could feel his movements slow a bit as he clearly weighed his options.

“You know, I can't exactly get pregnant again.” You whispered, giggling a little under him. Javi gave you an adoring look and nodded:” Are you challenging me?”

His pace picked up and he kissed your cheek again as he aimed to hit that perfect spot that he knew made you feel so good.

“You're perfect, you know that, querida?” He mumbled:” You gonna come with me?”

You nodded eagerly and it only took a few more thrusts until you felt the pleasure wash over you, clenching down on him as you rode out your orgasm. Javi groaned your name, following suit and spilling inside of you just as you had requested.

When you came down from your high, you still felt his arms around you, holding you gently. He planted soft kisses all over your neck and down your collarbones, waiting for you to fully return to him. You were content to just lay there and stare at him and wonder how in the world you'd gotten so lucky.

He watched you with a smile:” What's going on in that head of yours? I didn't fuck you stupid, did I?” Javi ducked, chuckling when you playfully aimed for his head:'' Cabrón.” You muttered under your breath.

He didn't even try to hide his grin as he let go of you to carefully pull out. To your surprise, he was actually prepared, having a small towel ready that he used to clean you up, wiping down the reminiscents of your love-making.

As your brain slowly regained his normal function you, once again, couldn't control a small giggle. Javier glanced up at you with a raised brow as he put the towel aside:" What's so funny?"

"You read a book."

Javier managed his best to actually look offended:" I read books."

"A pregnancy book." You continued, giggling a little more. It was cute how hard he was trying. Javier slid up your panties again, making sure you were both dressed before he pulled the covers back over you.

As he returned to his spot next to you, you could spot a faint blush on his cheek. He grumbled something as he smoothed over the blanket, avoiding your gaze.

Your gaze softened a bit as your giggling died down:”Javi.” You mumbled, pulling him closer:” I think it's very sweet.” His shoulders visibly relaxed a little more at that and he sighed softly:” You do?”

“I do. Especially if it taught you to do that .” You teased gently as the two of you scooted closer, his arms finding their way around you once more as your eyes already started to droop:” Did it have any other world-changing tips to offer about pregnancy?”

Javier gazed down at you, taking in your relaxed face. He smiled.

” It said you should go to sleep. It's been a long day.”

You hummed contently as you felt him pressing a soft kiss to your lips and then one more to your forehead.

”Yeah, it has been.”

________________________________________

i hope you liked this! dont forget to leave a comment if you did <3 if you want more of my unhinged horny thoughts, also check out my twt @softpascalito :)

[ilovepedro]

Deja Vú | javier peña x f!reader

Series masterlist | Main masterlist

Chapter 1 - Helplessly I reminisce

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Chapter summary: After hooking up with you the night before, Javi decides to ask another woman out on a date. Little does he know, you've got plans of your own with another man. What could possibly go wrong?

Chapter warnings: protected PIV, friends with benefits, idiots in love, mutual pining, flirting, pet names (bebita, querida, cariño), Javi is an oblivious asshole, miscommunication trope, reader speaks and understands Spanish, reader is female, no mention of hair type/skin color/body type, NO USE OF Y/N, translations available at end of chapter.

Word count: ~3k

A/N: i couldn’t wait to post, so i decided to split this into 3 parts! i have a few other ideas for this lil universe and one of them is already written! i'm excited to share this one. no intense smut in this chapter (i'm sorry), but future chapters will definitely make up for it! not beta'd, all mistakes are my own.

Divider by @saradika

“Oh, fuck, Javi! Right, hah, r-right there!” You keen, bent in half and pinned underneath Javi. Your ankles hook around his back while he grunts. “Cum for me, hermosa. Damelo bebita. Let me feel it,” Javi growls, his thrusts growing sloppy as his thick cock strokes your g-spot. His words send you over the edge and your body seizes up. You clench around him, screaming as your orgasm crashes over you. Eyes squeezed shut and mouth open wide, moans tumble from your lips. 

Javi’s eyes roll to the back of his head, his chest rumbling as he groans. You feel him twitch against your walls as his hips stutter, a telltale sign that he finished. “Fuck, bebita, squeezed all the cum out of me. So fucking tight,” he groans as he pulls out. You hiss at the loss of him, clenching around nothing.

He removes the condom and rises to his feet. He pads into your bathroom, discarding the condom in the trash can. You hear the water turn on as you lay in bed, your limbs like jelly as you relish in your fucked-out bliss. 

He returns to your bed with a damp washcloth and gently cleans the slick that smeared in between your thighs. Gingerly swiping the washcloth of your chest, Javi smirks as he cleans the precum that dried on your chest from when you blew him earlier. You can’t help but laugh as you playfully swat at his arm. “What was that for?” He says, bursting into laughter. “You’re so smug, Javi! So annoying,” you giggle. “You lov-, uh, you like it, though,” he says, hoping you didn’t hear his slip. Laughter dissolving into comfortable silence, you reach for his face. “I do,” you whisper against his cheek, pressing a kiss to it.

Javi goes beet red as he hides his face in the crook of your neck. You curl your fingers in his hair, twirling strands in your hand as you gently stroke his back with your nails. Javi presses tender kisses to your neck.

He’s practically purring under your touch. Things have grown more intimate with each hookup, but it hasn’t been brought up by either of you. Your mind races with possible outcomes of having that conversation. Would he want more? Would he break this agreement off? Has he noticed any of these things? As if he can read your mind, Javi lifts his head to meet your gaze. 

“You okay, bebita?” He asks, pulling you from your spiral. “Yeah, I’m good, Javi,” you tell him, feigning a reassuring smile. “I can tell when you’re lying, bebita. You’re my best friend. What’s wrong?” His voice is firm, but gentle. You sigh, wishing the earth would swallow you whole in this very moment. 

“I was just wondering if you’re seeing other people? I mean, you can if you want, we’re just hooking up, but I just wanted to know for… ya know… health reasons. Not that I’m accusing you of anything! I’m just -,” he cuts off your rambling with a kiss. Your eyes go wide. The two of you never kiss unless it’s during sex.

You can’t help, but sigh into the kiss as your eyes flutter closed. It lingers for a moment too long, feeling a little too intimate. He pulls back and looks you dead in the eye. “I’m not seeing anyone else, querida,” he rasps. His words soothe your anxiety, and a smile creeps onto your face. Javi gives you the same smile, toothy and goofy. Relishing in his words, he pulls you in closer in a bone crushing embrace. 

“Dejame, I can’t breathe, Javi!” You laugh, playfully pushing him off you. Rising to your feet, you slip on the shirt you were wearing before he showed up tonight, which just so happens to be a shirt he left behind one night. He puts his briefs back on and you hold your hand out for him. He laces his fingers in yours, the smiles never leaving either of your faces.

Leading the two of you into the kitchen, you flash him a wink as you gesture to the bag on the counter while you get a glass of water. His eyes light up and he rushes to rip open the bag. “Cocadas, fuck,” he groans, taking a bite of one. “You’re the best, cariño,” he says through a mouthful. 

They’re his favorite post-coital snack, he always shares one with you in your kitchen after each hookup. You chuckle as you sip your water, silently asking for a cocada with your hand out. He holds it out for you instead to take a bite from it.

Domesticity feels nice with Javi, but you quickly shake that thought off. Silently reminding yourself that he’s just a friend and nothing more. A friend who you have sex with 3 to 4 times a week. The two of you share the cocadas and water in comfortable silence.

Javi glances at the clock and springs up. “Fuck, I gotta be at work in a few hours. I’ll come over later this week, okay, querida?” He says, shoveling down the rest of the pastry. “Sounds good, Javi,” you hum, downing the rest of your water. He rushes into the bedroom to get dressed as you tidy up the counter.

He returns to the kitchen, placing a kiss on your forehead. The two of you flashing each other saccharine smiles. “See you soon, cariño,” he says, rushing to the door. “See you, Javi,” you sigh with a lazy smile on your lips, shutting the door behind you. You trudge to your bedroom, plopping into bed with the same smile on your lips.

The sun burns brightly into your room, rapidly warming up from the Colombian heat. You wake, inhaling as you stretch in bed. The ache in between your legs serves as a reminder of last night’s events, a smirk creeps onto your face. You recall Javi’s words last night and feel giddy all over again. Rising from the mattress, you saunter into the bathroom to shower and get ready for the day. You opt for shorts and a thin t-shirt, trying to stay as cool as you can in the sweltering heat.

You head into the kitchen to make coffee, and go to make your bed as it brews. Grabbing a pen and paper, you make a list of things you need to get on your grocery shopping trip, making a note to stop for more cocadas for Javi on your way back home.

Making your way back into the kitchen, you pour yourself a cup of coffee. You reach for the landline, dialing Javi’s attache’s extension. “This is Stoddard,” Neil answers. “Hi, Neil. Is Javi in?” “Oh, hi! He just got out of a meeting, doesn’t look too happy. Maybe you can cheer him up. I’ll transfer you to his line,” he says. “Hopefully. Thank you so much,” you squeak a little too excitedly. “Hello?” “Hi, Javi,” you mutter, shy at the sound of his raspy voice. “Hi, bebita. You called at the right time. Meeting went to shit,” he sighs, his voice mixed with relief and disappointment.

“I’m sorry, Javi. Hopefully they come to their senses and listen to you. You’re the smartest guy on the case. I’m sure you’ll figure out what to do next.” You hear him chuckle on the other end. “It’s like you have a sixth sense, querida. You just always know what to say at the right times,” Javi mumbles, the smile evident in his voice. A brief, comfortable silence settles over you two. “What are you up to today, querida?”

“I’m going to go grocery shopping in a bit, so I’ll be out all day. I’ll make sure to get som-,” “Can you grab some more cocadas? Please, querida? I’ll pick them up from you after work tonight,” he asks, cutting you off. “Was already planning on getting some,” you giggle. “Thank you, querida. Shit, I gotta go, but I’ll be over later to pick them up,” he says in a rush. “Sounds good. Bye, Javi. Have a good day.” “Bye, querida. I lo-,” he cuts himself off, clearing his throat. It goes silent on both ends. The slip-up is very obvious this time, neither of you know what to say. “Uh, I’ll, uh… see you tonight,” he says, suddenly, his voice devoid of emotion as he hangs up in a haste.

Stunned at his sudden hastiness and switch up, you hang the phone back on the receiver. You gather your usual grocery shopping supplies, your rolling wire cart and bags. Setting out on your trek, you can’t help but replay Javi’s slip-ups in your mind. Twice - he almost said that word twice.

Javi runs through your mind your entire shopping trip, his slip-ups and the conversation from last night playing on a loop. If the two of you are only seeing each other, then why are you still only hooking up? Sneaking around in the middle of the night? Only meeting in your apartment? Best friends don’t just hook up with each other 3-4 times a week. Best friends don’t call each other “querida” or “bebita.” Best friends don’t share the most hidden parts of each other, and hide the rest of themselves from the world.

You should’ve set some ground rules before jumping into being friends with benefits. Maybe you’ll bring this up to Javi tonight when he comes over - mention everything unorthodox about your dynamic. At the end of the day, that’s all you two are to each other: best friends.

You begin the journey home, stopping to grab some more cocadas for him. You check your list as you drag your cart beside you. Skimming over your list, you realize not all items are crossed out, having accidentally skipped over some while thinking of Javi. You dig in your purse for a pen and your keys.

Opening the lobby door with your key, you enter the building with your rolling wire cart and bags in tow. You make your way to the stairs and head up to your apartment. You skim over your list with a pen now in hand, circling items you forgot as you mindlessly walk into the lobby. You round the corner of the second floor and spot Javi across the way at the opposite end of the railing, your face lighting up. You hadn’t expected to see him home early. You hold the bag of cocadas in your hand for him.

Freezing, your smile fades as you spot him talking to some woman in the lobby of your shared building. He’s smiling, his hand brushing against her forearm with a cigarette hanging from his lips as he leans against the rail. You can't help but eavesdrop on their conversation.

“Que vas hacer el viernes?” The mystery woman asks. “Salir contigo,” Javi flirtatiously responds. The world stops. How can he possibly go out with someone else after telling you he isn’t seeing anyone else last night?

Your grip slips from your cart and it crashes to the floor, a loud bang resounding in the lobby. Javi and the mystery woman snap their heads in your direction.

Javi’s breath hitches in his throat, not expecting to see you as you told him you’d be out grocery shopping all day. You quickly bend down to pick up your cart. “Lo siento,” you apologize, flustered as you rush down the hall. Javi sighs and runs a hand over his face, rubbing at the corners of his mouth. “Te recogeré el viernes a las ocho,” Javi tells Cassandra, the woman in the hall. “Bien. Hasta luego, Javi,” she says, reaching up to press a kiss to his cheek and leaves.

He just lets out another sigh. He grabs his keys from his pocket and rushes down the hall to your apartment. “Fuck,” he mutters under his breath as he runs out the door.

You can’t shake the feeling of seeing Javi with another woman. Sure, the two of you weren’t anything exclusive, but you two had just said you weren’t seeing anyone else. Hell, he almost said “love” twice in the past 24 hours. How could he be flirting with another woman, asking her out, in your apartment building? And how could he be so nonchalant about it?

You hadn’t had great luck with relationships in the past, so a friends with benefits arrangement sounded perfect when Javi proposed the idea to you. You wanted to spare your heart from more pain so you agreed instantly, thinking things between you two wouldn’t progress any further than that - or so you thought.

You’ve always been good at hiding your feelings, constantly guarding your heart. Over the years, you learned to shove your feelings deep, deep down to where they can’t be unburied. You’ve buried them so far, you’ve convinced yourself that you don’t have any for Javi. So if you don’t have any feelings for him, why the hell are you crying over him?

Javi tries to catch up with you, but you’re gone before he can do so. He reaches your door, hearing a quiet sniffle on the other side. “Querida!” He shouts as he bangs on the door. His voice causes you to snap your head up. You quickly wipe your face before you open the door, barely cracking it open so he won’t catch a good glimpse of you, but it’s too late. He’s already noticed your glossy, red eyes and a stray tear escaping your eye.

He tries to gently pry the door open, but you refuse to let go of it. “Querida, are you okay?” Concern lacing his voice as he asks through the small crack. “Yes, Javier, I’m fine. And don’t call me that,” you bite. Confusion evident on his face as his brows furrow and a frown makes its way onto his face. 

“Hey. We good?” He asks, confused and a bit more firmly this time. You scoff. “Yes, Javier. I’ll see you around.” You whip around and slam the door in his face. Javi stands there, dumbfounded. You never used his full name, he was always Javi to you. And he always called you some sort of affectionate nickname, you loved when he did that.

He wracks his brain, trying to process and figure out why you're so angry. He wasn’t lying last night when he said he wasn’t seeing anyone else, but the conversation hadn't gone further than that. He figured he could still see other people after that, you had said so. You also had asked for health reasons. Other people hook up with their best friends with no strings attached, right? Just friends helping each other blow off steam. He has no feelings for you. His date with Cassandra will prove it. So, why does he feel so guilty? Why are you so upset over this?

You storm into the kitchen, putting away your groceries and maintaining your composure til you spot the bag of cocadas you had picked up for him - the ones he had the nerve to ask for. Taking solace in your living room, you throw yourself on your couch and bite back the tears that threaten to spill over, squeezing your eyes shut. You’re embarrassed for even feeling hurt and upset over him seeing someone else, but you feel even more embarrassed at the fact that he saw you - now he knows you’re upset. 

Your attempt to withhold tears fails as your body racks with silent sobs. Taking a deep, shaky breath and exhaling, you muster up the strength to gather your cart and bags once more to finish grocery shopping. Desperate to take your mind off everything. 

You peer out of the peephole to ensure Javi isn’t out there. Grabbing your keys, you cautiously open the door and check if the coast is clear. You turn around, locking your door and hurriedly rush down the hall to the stairs. You’re practically running out of the building once you reach the first floor.

Trekking to one of the fruit stands near one of the markets, you mindlessly sort through the produce. You desperately try to shake the anxiety reeling through you, afraid of running into the woman or worse, Javi. You reach for an orange as a hand brushes yours, reaching for the same one. You jump, startling at the touch, pulling you out of your trance.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” a man says, pulling his hand back. You meekly smile, taking in the handsome man in front of you. “It’s okay, I can grab another,” you tell him. “No, no, that’s okay. Go ahead, take it,” he says, handing you the orange.

“Thank you,” you tell him. “No problem. A girl like you deserves an orange that’s just as sweet as her,” he smiles. Your brows quirk up before bursting into a fit of giggles. “Too cheesy?” He asks, flushed red in the face. “A little… but it was cute,” you giggle. “Chris. Christ Feistl,” he smiles, extending his hand. You give him your name, shaking his hand. 

“Do you always include fruit in your pickup lines?” You playfully ask. “Not always, but I could show you my other lines if you let me take you out sometime,” he boldly says. A smirk creeps onto your face. “Bold. I like it,” you say, digging a pen and a scrap of paper out of your purse. You scribble your name and number on it. “Call me and we can arrange something,” you say with a wink - Javi completely forgotten for now. 

He smiles as he takes the piece of paper. “Looking forward to it,” he says. “And I’m looking forward to all your cheesy pickup lines. I’ll see you around,” you say with a smile. “See you around,” he says.

You’re practically buzzing with excitement the rest of your grocery trip, Javi temporarily forgotten. Replaying the previous interaction you had with Chris, you’re eager to call him and arrange a date. A little too eager for some reason.

He’s handsome, white, blonde-ish with a beard, and hazel eyes - the total opposite of Javi. If Javi can go on a date and hookup with other people, then why can’t you? This will be good for you.

Translations:

Damelo - give it to me

Que vas hacer el viernes? - What are you doing on Friday?

Salir contigo - Going out with you

Lo siento - I'm sorry

Te recogeré el viernes a las ocho - I'll pick you up on Friday at 8

Hasta luego - See you later/then

Querida/Cariño - darling/dear

Bebita - Baby girl

i hope y'all enjoy! the build up is very important to me, so i am working hard on it! this is a love letter to all the novelas i watched as a kid. i <3 drama

Tag list: @undrthelights @gracieheartsspedro @jenispunk @nostalxgic @mandoisapunk @party-hearses @bastardmandennis @tinygarbage @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @daydreamingmiller @javierpena-inatacvest @chaotic-mystery @amanitacowboy @factualfic @littlegrungegirlaf @fifia-writes @pedroluver @pascalpvnk @thevoiceinyourheadx @innerpersonunknown @evangelinemedici @vickie5446

if your name is crossed out, it means i couldn’t tag you ):

[undercoverpena]

viii. tomorrow I'll be gone, save tonight

javier peña x f!reader | chapter eight of late night texts

summary: It's the year 2000. Javi is minding his own business on the porch of his pop's ranch when a text from an unknown number vibrates his phone. The only problem is, no one knows he has a phone and no one has his number.

chapter warnings: fluff. flirting. continuous romcom vibes. fluff. falling in love. idiots in love. we're approaching the sadness ✨ wordcount: 3.4k.

text key: bold is you/reader | italics is javi

It takes longer to get going the next day—mainly due to the number of times one of you begins pulling the other close.

A simple kiss here, a nuzzle there.

The morning ticking away as the two of you remain blissfully happy under hotel sheets. All undressed, sated and smiling.

Now, he’s basking in your laugh.

Laughing at him as he tries (poorly) to explain and rationalise his low score on Snakes. The game you had told him about to begin with.

Tears falling from the edges of your eyes as he tries to argue his case repeatedly. Your little wheeze making his heart clench with joy—your head shaking, hand cupping your mouth as each noise slips out.

“You’re clearly just not good with your fingers.”

He pinches you teasingly. “You know that’s not true.”

You're still smiling, your laugh fading as shyness begins to fall over your features. It starts with your eyes dropping to the bedsheets hiding both of your bare skin, and he waits for the feeble ‘stop’ that’s usually accompanied by a swat.

It never comes.

You lift your gaze back up instead, something twinkling, sparkling in your eyes. “Give it to me.”

“What?” 

Gesturing for his phone, you take it, all devious smirk with a wiggle of your shoulders. Throwing his arm behind his head, sighing—all blissful and content—as he leans against the headboard before you begin shifting in the sheets. Watching as you begin moving so your bare skin is on show as you do so. Slowly, and teasingly, you begin positioning yourself between his legs, as he sits up so your back connects with his chest. 

“Watch the master, okay?” 

He smirks, snorting. But he still slides his hands around your waist, feeling you twitch from the first feel of it before you relax. 

“So what’s the—“

“Shh,” you say, his lips sliding to your cheek, smelling the lingering scent of your perfume from dinner last night—and the two of you. 

His eyes fix on the screen. Watching the digital serpent slide around the screen to the sound of your key clicks—each pixel-bit collected as the tail grows longer. Your movements are quick—far quicker than he can text, never mind play this—

“Wait, you can go through walls?” 

“This one… this one you can,” you reply, words dropping off, concentration hanging on each syllable. 

It’s odd to be in awe of someone in how they control a snake across a screen. But he is. The score racked up, far surpassing the one that took him an embarrassing amount of time. 

Then, the screen flashes, your groan so cute—grunting out of you as you shake your head in annoyance. 

“You should take this off me.” 

“Competitive, are we?” 

Smirking, you hand him the phone as he casts it to the side with relative ease. More focused on keeping you here, close, skin to skin. 

“How am I even meant to beat that score, querida?” His lips find the skin behind your ear.  

“You’ll have to try real hard.” 

“You’re devious.”

“I prefer menace.” 

He’s about to agree, your mouth connecting with his—stealing them. Feeling the way you’re trying to punctuate something to him with your lips. Fingers brushing over his cheek, over the edge of the hair above his lip, before you slowly stop, lashes lifting to shower him in something which both shatters him and heals him all at once. 

“I should shower. Alone.” 

His mouth twists as he fights a smirk, all reluctant to let you leave this time. Like he had been the last time, his fingers softly holding your wrist, as you mumble about being quick, that if he was taking you out for the day, you wanted to not stink of sex. 

Something he wouldn’t have complained about, personally. Until he remembers the scent of your body wash. The one which has been burying itself inside of him, a flurry of softness and sweetness that if he ever smells a single ingredient of it, he’ll think of you. 

“I do wanna take you on all the dates, baby. So, go. Shower. Otherwise, I’ll never get the chance.”

You look over your shoulder, bent over your case. “All of them?” 

“Need to cram in all I can until…”

His words fade as he feels himself lurch. The noticeable hole in his chest began to widen—the one first appearing when you fell asleep in his arms last night.

Now, though, he gets to watch your reaction too. A front-row seat to your bottom lip wobbling, eyes averting him—as though you’re splitting apart two.

He doesn’t think. He just moves. Javi's feet kick the sheets free as he walks over to you. “Yeah, let’s… let’s not talk about that.” 

Burying his lips against yours to rid you of any remainders of it, as he positions your body back against him where he can. The wall greeting your back, his palm boxing you in until the two of you forget all about the impending deadline—and only about the now. 

“Javi…”

He groans, pressing his forehead to yours. “I know. You want a shower.”

Your fingers tap his chest lightly, forcing his head to lift, lips pressing a kiss to your hairline before turning. 

Sighing, he runs his hand over his face—hearing the bathroom door close—as the sheets crinkle back beneath him, blending with the falling water coming from the room next to him. 

He was happy. 

Ridiculously so. It runs through him together with looser muscles and more relaxed nerves. It swims inside his chest and balloons his heart. Mainly, it sits in his cheeks—the ones slowly beginning to ache from how often he’s been sporting that grin only you can pull from him. 

should I be worried about how long youre in the store for 

The woman in front of me is returning her entire life and then using coupons to buy a new life. Kill me.

cant. unfortunately I would miss you 

You’d replace with me ease. Have you seen your face?

can’t replace you hermosa but hurry up before I begin taking a bite out of each of the donuts 

You wouldn’t dare.

Id dare because the glazed one looks good 

“We could do nothing.”

It’s not that he hadn’t thought of (or planned) what the two of you could do together, he just hadn’t expected to burn through them all so quickly.

It didn’t help that it had been a while—too long—since he’d dated a person. Rarely ever making it past the first date. Most of them being dinner or coffee, or not even making it to either and finding himself getting what he needed without learning their surname.

Smirking, he runs his tongue across his teeth. “Nothing isn’t a date.”

“Not that way, we do nothing,” you retort, and he shakes his head as he grins. “We’ve done a restaurant, a museum, a picnic. We’ve done a lot.”

“We could go to the cinema?”

“But that means I can’t talk to you for over an hour.”

Javi smiles, hand running across his jaw. “Could make out at the back, though?”

Pulling a face, you sigh. “You drive a hard bargain, you do. But—”

“Fine, no movies. Another time?”

Grinning, you lean back in the booth of the diner, the one you’d requested—determined to make your way through the menu before you left.

Smiling, you sigh contently. “One day, we won’t even need to question it. It’ll be like a weekday date thing we do—once a month, on a Wednesday.”

“You thought about it?”

You hum, glancing back over the menu—brows knitting as you attempt to choose. “What?”

“Us. Dating.”

Your eyes flash up, all wide, full of panic. “Is that… I guess—I mean, like I know this isn’t conventional in the slightest and—and we haven’t, like, talked about it. I… I’m fucking up, aren’t I? Shit—“

“Fuck, hermosa. No. I mean… us going on dates, together. After this week—in one location, a setting a plan.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Swallowing, you shift in your spot. “Um. Yeah, I have. The location is foggy, naturally.”

“Naturally.”

Your eyes fall to the table, fingers tapping along the plastic as you do. “I—I know… well, because I know you have the ranch and your pop, Javi.”

He swallows, rolling his lips as you try to fake a smile. 

“So, I know what that means. As I’m sure, you do.” 

He doesn’t, not a single clue. His brain racks to find it—what it is that you mean—but you clear your throat, eviscerating any further attempt at a push for that information as you smile, significant—all beautiful and charming. 

“What about bowling?” 

“You’re a cheat.” 

Coming up behind you, he spins you on the spot. Welcomed immediately by your grin, the one he’s been able to admire on your face for the last hour.

“Don’t be like that, Spare. You did well. Only 28 points behind.”

Shoving a finger at his chest, shaking your head, “You blindfolded me for one.”

“So, I could kiss you.” 

Smirking, you slowly wrap your arms around his neck, his arms finding their place on your hips. A place they’ve come to know as home. “You were worried about me winning, weren’t you?” 

“You were showing me up.”

“Bet if we went shooting, you’d beat me—Mr DEA,” you say, the latter all a whisper. 

“You’d go shooting?”

“Oh, fuck no. I can barely be trusted at the fair to shoot those little tin cans off the stand—you should not, I repeat not, put a gun in my hand.”

Beaming, he draws shapes with his thumbs. “Alright, noted.” 

Watching you from the corner of his eye as you grin, fidgeting with your jacket before you look up, and come to a stop. Something flashes across your face, glee—excitement—your head twisting to meet him. 

Then your hand slides inside his, the other hand wrapping around his wrist. He doesn’t fight the way you pull him towards it. The little photobooth you’d eyed up in the bowling alley. 

“Please?”

As if he could ever say no. 

Your legs over his, bodies crammed in the small space as he slides the dollar in. Your face is full of glee, your body bursting with excitement. 

I’ve always wanted to do one of these. 

There’s no decision on poses, you pressing your cheek to his as you slap the button, and the two of you grin on command. FLASH. Then after, it’s a quick reposition of movements that the two of you both seem to understand as you both pull a silly face. FLASH.

The next, he’s sure time slows for. Javi’s head turning, eyes lingering on you as your laugh blossoms across your features. His heart thundering in his chest, hammering so loud and heavy as that familiar, wanted, feeling flares up inside of him.

It isn’t until the next flash does he realise how wide he’s smiling. Feels it in his cheeks, as the light illuminates the flecks in your eyes—the ones he wants to fall into and never leave.

Then, time resumes, you leaning in—hand on his cheek, nose tip to his: the almost kiss.

FLASH.

Neither of you move. The two of you hovering as the photos finishes, the machine whirring—

“Kiss me,” you whisper, lips ghosting over his.

And who is he to deny you? Javi would kiss you forever if he could, so he slants his mouth over yours, feeling that rush of warmth in his chest that he gets when he kisses you. When he gets to, your smile presses against him, his fingers sliding up your neck. 

“You’re so handsome, Javi.” 

He smiles, thumb brushing your cheek as the machine spits out the two copies. Your arm diving, body twisting from him as you do—taking them, handing him one. 

But he doesn’t even stare down at his own copy. Javi just watches as you take in yours. How your eyes flick down each one, alternating smiles as you take them all in—lingering back up to the third. 

Just like he is. 

“We look good.”  

You grin, swallowing. “We do.”

You married yet?

shut up murphy 

Tell her I said hi. 

Javier Peña had wished for a lot of things when he was in Colombia.

A lead. A break. To catch Escobar. To take down the cartel. To keep himself intact—to leave with his head held high.

Then he wished for nothing. No reason to, no hope or want that even allowed the thought of one to appear, never mind to request it.

Now all he was doing was wishing.

As each hour of your last day together ticks on, he longs for more. Prays for a phone call that tells you that you can stay—craves a justifiable reason to throw you in his truck and take you back with him.

There isn’t one.

Just a looming goodbye and a prickling pain that’s biting at the edges of happiness and adoration.

He’d wanted to take you for food, but you’d insisted on drinks. Finding your leg between his as you tell him about your friend moving for her new job, about your childhood and how you had a goldfish once.

In the last few days, the two of you had shared so much, that the missing pieces of who the other is began to fill. He’d told you bits about Colombia, his Mom, Laredo.

You’d told him about work, about the people you meet—the issues you have to sort. The things in your apartment, the things you do with Aish and the life you live.

But, the confession that gets to him, is spoken softer, dropped into conversation nervously—as though you’ve been worrying about speaking it:

I like all the things we’ve been doing, but I have missed doing the crossword with you.

It’s that declaration that makes him talk about why. Allows him share that he likes doing them with you too, having done them for something to do—no pressure after Colombia, just a puzzle that needed solving.

Javi isn’t stupid, he knows there’s a bigger reason as to why he likes doing them, and with you. Why they have fallen to the wayside as soon as he had you in his arms. It pulses in his chest and drums along his bones.

And then you take his hand, as though knowing it too. Clutching it tight, a thousand questions bubbling about Colombia, but are never spoken. Because you don’t ask, don’t push.

I know you’ll tell me when you’re ready.

Your words make his heart soar. Make the beer on the table fall over as he leans across to kiss you, to cup your cheeks and thank you with his tongue behind your teeth.

Now, he’s glancing over at you—watching you with your legs crossed, eyes shimmering from alcohol. You wrap cheese around your finger, licking it from your skin before taking a large bite. 

“This pizza may be the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

His mouth slides into a smirk, all about to make a comment when your eyes land on him. 

“Second to you, of course.”

“You been around me a week, and look at the tongue you have on you.”

“Yeah, you’re a bad influence.”

Leaning back, he wipes his fingers on a napkin. “You mind?” 

Shifting his weight on the floor, he watches as you chew—the back of your hand covering your mouth as your eyes roll, chewing more furiously. He shifts again, feeling something digging in, moving his hand to his back pocket of jeans, only to pull out a strip of photos.

The ones taken a day ago. 

His fingers unfold them as he hears you clear your throat, reaching for your red cup filled with wine as his eyes land on the third one down. The one where you’re laughing, spotting how he’s looking at you—not sure if he ever remembers seeing that look on his face in any other photo or in the mirror. 

“No, I—”

“Baby.”

He doesn’t mean to interrupt, but it's sitting on his chest again. Rising and falling like waves, and he’s tired of waiting for the storm to pass. Especially when he doesn’t want it to.

Javi wants it. You. Him. So much so, it’s close to erupting from him. The confession which has been sitting there, growing with each minute he spends with you until it thumps independently to his heart and feelings. A thing which has grown, expanded until it's now filling the space in him that he always imagined would be vast and empty. 

“Javi…”

“I want those dates with you. Cinema ones, once a month.”

Watching as your mouth falls open, hand furiously wipes the pizza dust from your fingers onto a napkin as you turn on your hip to face him. 

Clearing your throat, you sigh. “Me too. But, I know you have feelings on long distance, but—“

“Wait. What? What makes you say that?” 

Shrugging, you avert your eyes, lips rolling together nervously. “You said the other day, about how you almost got married. Before the DEA. That you were glad. That the distance wouldn’t have worked, and it meant you could focus.” 

His brow raises, waiting, wondering. 

Thinking there’s more—there has to be. The pieces not fitting, until they slowly slide into view. Your words in the diner, I know what that means. As I’m sure you do.

“Querida, no—”

“Did I… Did I put two and two together?” 

Taking your hand, pizza dust be damned, he sighs. “I… it was complicated. I just… I didn’t wanna marry her, but I didn’t want you to think I was an asshole for that. For leaving her, the way I did—I probably didn’t explain it well. But, it’s different with us. I want to make this work with you.”

His grip tightens on your hand, fingers lifting your chin so your eyes have nowhere else to look other than his. 

“So, we don’t see one another every week. We’ll plan it—talk like we did before, and make sure we have phone dates.” 

Nodding, he watches as your eyes fill with tears. Shimmering, making the flecks in your eyes stand out even more. 

“You don’t think I’m too much?”

His eyes widen, face softening—realising he's doing it again, the puppy face (as you so eloquently called it a day ago).

“No. Not in the slightest. I told you—baby, I never think that. Haven’t once.”

You look surprised, but you swallow it—smiling instead. “It won’t be easy.”

And he wants to laugh. Because he knows that. He knows hard. He’s faced hard, run through and been smacked with hard.

This with you, it could never be described as that. It’s easy, like breathing or existing.

So he cups your cheek, seeing you visibly sobering under the conversation. “I think we can do it.”

It’s more a statement, than a question. Watching you think it over, all unreadable, anxiousness fluttering in his stomach.

“I know we can,” he adds. “Until one day…”

“One day,” you repeat, as though turning the words over on your tongue. “Are you… are you sure?”

Looping his fingers around your neck, he presses his forehead to yours. Intimate, close—romantic. “Of course, baby. I want this—you, us. Do… Do you?” 

A tear falls, skidding down the apple of your cheek as you smile. “Of course. I… I may have cried in the shower this morning… because I didn’t want to say goodbye.” 

He sighs, light—shifting the weight which had been resting on him and closing the hole in his chest. Pressing his lips to your forehead, thumb and fingers stroking your cheek. 

“I can’t let you go, baby,” he whispers, resting his lips against your forehead. 

His ears hear the faint sound of me, either, before your fingers wrap around his wrist, forcing his head to move back before your lips burn the reply against his.

Over, and over, again.

It begins tender, warm—tinged with other words he’s not sure he’s meant to hear—before it moves to something that burns. Your touch is like flames, leaving marks against him he never wants to vanish or be rid of. It grows messy, his tongue licking into your mouth as the pizza lays forgotten as you move into his lap. 

Thighs on either side, fingers in his hair as he grabs your waist tight, pinning you close, until he makes you stand. 

Then the bed is dipping, the sheets crinkling, and he has you close to him. His name falls from your lips as he whispers yours, the two names merging together—blending, just as the two of you are. His fingers spanning your hip, keeping you flush with him, nails in his hair.

Then he hears it, breathy and right up against his ear. 

Mine. 

His head pulls back, eyes staring into yours. “Todo mío.”

if you haven't already, please check out this gorgeous piece that was gifted to me by @ghostaholics 🩵 for this reason, this chapter, the many dates and the way they're falling, is dedicated all to you, G.

[kiwisbell]

darling, so it goes [javier peña]

She glows.

read las mañanas here! | my masterlist

pairing: javier peña x f!reader

rating: 18+ (mdni)

tags/warnings: pregnancy, pregnant sex, wife guy!javi, extremely protective!javi, girl dad!javi, javi is an overprotective dad and the baby isn't even born yet, fluff, married life, a sprinkle of texas!javi, smut, oral sex (m and f receiving), rough sex, unprotected piv (i mean she's not gonna get more pregnant), a bit of papi kink, slight degradation, she pronoun used throughout

word count: ~ 14k (i know, my bad)

read on ao3!

a/n: this is another re-upload from my ao3 account, and part of my siempre series! if you'd like to read the first instalment, las mañanas, it's linked above next to my masterlist!! ! i love you all so much, thank you for your patience 💋 xoxo kiwi

MONTH 3

She calls him crying. 

Javier picks up the telephone and tucks it against his shoulder as he rushes to close the door. Feistl and Van Ness are taking respective phone calls, tossing a ball of wadded-up paper between them. “Peña.”

“Javi,” she sniffles, her sweet voice so weary. His heart beats a little faster, grows a little bigger in his chest. It's a swelling, heavy feeling, to hear someone’s voice and fall in love. 

“You sad, baby?” he coos. “What can I do, huh?”

“I just miss you.” Another sniffle, and he knows she's curled up on her good side, clutching the receiver. 

Javier can't help the grin that splits his face. “Company here isn't good, either, bonita. I’ll be home soon.” He knows that isn't the only reason she's calling. “Dime que está mal.”

“Everything hurts, I need to pee every ten minutes, and we're out of hot sauce.”

There it is. 

Her third month of pregnancy has been riddled with emotion. A day rarely goes by when he doesn't see her cry at least twice. It'll be the question of what they'll eat for dinner, or it'll be the fact that there's a baby growing inside her and she doesn't know what to do with all the emotion she carries. Sometimes, it'll be both, and more. 

On top of that, her cravings have been giving him whiplash. Two weeks ago, she would fall asleep with a jar of pickles on the bedside table, and now she can hardly stand to smell them before she’s rushing to the bathroom to heave into the toilet. Last week, Javier came home to her curled up on the floor in the kitchen, tear tracks on her face, digging a spoon into a plate of instant rice slathered in hot sauce. 

“Hi, Javi,” she chirped.

“Hey, baby.” Javier lowered himself to the floor next to her and wiped the salty tears off her face with a washcloth nearby. Kissing her left his lips tingling. “This is new.”

She shrugged. “I really wanted hot sauce. Couldn’t really eat it by itself, so I put some rice in the microwave. But then I started to cry because the rice was taking a long time.” She lifted the spoon and lifted her brows. “Want some?”

Javier likes spicy food. He’s indifferent to rice. Together, they didn’t sound especially thrilling. But it was the way her eyes went wide and expecting, the way her brow furrowed in anticipation of sharing her new obsession with him. He took the spoonful into his mouth. 

Although it was exactly how he expected—bland, chewy, and mostly tasting of hot sauce—she grinned, leaning in to put her lips to his cheek, and he wanted to eat the entire plate if it made her this happy. “I love you,” she said. 

“There’s another bottle in the cupboard, querida,” he tells her. “You want me to run a bath when I get home?”

The happy little sigh that leaves her tells him she’s not crying anymore. “Will you join me?”

“You know I can’t say no to getting in the bath with you, baby. Estaré en casa pronto.”

“Javi?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

There’s a new round of sniffles on the other end of the line. “I’m gonna be a mom,” she cries. 

This is the second time she’s called him today. 

MONTH 4

“Más despacio, baby. Let me help you.”

“Javi, I love you, but if you don’t let me get out of this car by myself, I’m going to choke you out.”

Okay. He knows. He knows he's smothering. Javier waits for her to step down out of the truck (he demanded the DEA give him one after he found out how much they both hated the fucking Cooper they wanted him to drive). “See?” she says proudly. “Still spry.”

He splays a hand over her belly: already a force of habit. The bump there has only just begun to show, but he's been putting his hand to her abdomen, imagining he can feel his baby’s heartbeat, since the day they knew she was pregnant. Now that he can see the slight curve to her belly, it feels so real, so immediate. 

Javier was a grump before. He’s become somewhat of a monster when it comes to his wife. His pregnant wife. 

“¿Estás bien?” he asks her. 

They’ve known each other for over a decade. The way Javier looks at her still knocks the breath out of her. He wields those wide brown eyes like a weapon, gentle but incisive, staring deep, past where words exist and into the very soul of her. He can pull her thoughts and her feelings from her head just by looking at her. Yes, he’s been smothering her with closeness since they found out about the baby. Yes, he’s a thorough grump. She’s never loved someone more in her entire life. 

“Javier,” she says softly, lightly tugging on his belt loop. 

His eyes search her face for discomfort, but he won’t find it. “Cielito.”

“Kiss me, please.”

He’s learned not to compromise, raise his voice, or oppose. So, he cradles the back of her head and ducks down to kiss her, his hand still firm at her swelling belly. Another new habit: he doesn't let her stand on her toes anymore to kiss him. He started to bring himself down to her level, and now he won't stop. It was unconscious, just another instinctual desire to make his wife do as little work as possible. 

Javier nudges his nose against hers. “I’m about to ask again.”

She places her hand on his chest. “Javi, don’t—”

“Are you sure you want to go back?”

Reparations on the university are still underway, but most of the infrastructure of the peripheral buildings affected by the blast are intact. Classes resumed last week, but Javier’s been reluctant to let go of his wife’s hand and watch her disappear inside the building where she nearly died two months ago. 

She bunches up the material of his suit jacket in her fist and giggles. “You're a fool, Agent Peña. You and your… your sexy suits and your sexy pout.” 

“Did that bomb give you a concussion we didn't know about, baby?” 

“I just love you.” She cups his face in her hands. She can't choose which eye to look at, so she searches between them for the answer. “I love you. So much. I’m gonna be okay, Javi. I am okay.”

He wraps his hands around her forearms and strokes her skin with his thumbs. “You say something like that and expect me to let you go?” he grumbles. 

“I know you worry,” she says, “but we've gotten this far. I'll be right here when you come to pick me up, and we’ll go home.”

He's still pouting when he presses his lips to her temple. “Have a good day at work, amor.”

“Don't work too hard,” she tells him, pushing his sunglasses back onto his nose. “I have plans for you when you get home.”

“Yeah?” He lifts his brows behind those aviators. “What kinda plans?”

She rolls her eyes and gives him a gentle shove toward his truck. “You'll have to wait and see, vaquero.”

Javier steals one more kiss before he's backing away to his truck with his hands in the air like he's in a stickup. “Sure you don't want me to walk you up the stairs—”

“Go. To. Work.”

“Feistl.” Javier peeks his head out of his office. “You and Van Ness find the fucker who planted the bomb?”

Feistl tucks his pen between his teeth as he hurries toward Javier’s office with a stuffed manila folder in hand. “Think so,” he says, his voice garbled by the pen. He jerks it out of his mouth as if he forgot it was there. “Alvaro Diaz made a call to his girlfriend the morning of the… well, you know. Told her he had an important job to do.”

“Diaz works for Pacho Herrera.”

“Got that right. After the bombing, he disappeared. May have been him.”

“You're saying the president of the school was involved in something Cali didn't like?” Javier frowns. “We would've known about that.”

Feistl snorts, slapping the folder down on Javier’s desk. “Yeah. We're always one step ahead, sir.”

Javier lets the attitude slide when he opens the folder. “Puta.”

He doesn't love the smug look on Feistl’s face. “The president’s son partied with North Valley just before the attack.”

“Jesus. He transported coke for them?” Javier flips through the file, lingering on images of the president’s mangled body, then the recovered cocaine from the operation. 

“All the way to Panama.”

“How dutiful.”

“Yeah, well, like a good little soldier, he lost one of the duffels on the trip. North Valley wanted money to compensate, and the president offered to pay it. Looks like Cali wanted the world to see what happens when you get in with the wrong cartel. Fucking over North Valley on some money might have helped Herrera sleep better, too, I guess.”

Javier only breaks his intensive eye contact with the folder to pin a glare on Feistl. “Do I wanna know how you got this intel?”

“I have informants, sir.” Feistl chews on his retort for a moment before he decides it's worth saying. “You used to have those, too.”

“As I so love being reminded,” grumbles Javier. “Okay. Fine. Thank you. Where’s the kid now?”

“Turn a couple pages and you'll see that the prodigal son decided to pay his dad a visit the day of the attack.”

Jesus. The kid’s bloodied body greets Javier, and he closes the folder. Something nips at him. “Cali’s M.O. isn't bombs. It's not public attacks. They get by on threats, not action.”

Feistl scrubs at his jaw with his hand. He looks like he hasn't shaved in a while. “My informant overheard a conversation between Pacho and one of Cali’s sicarios. He mentioned a lost bag of money.”

“And your informant is close to Herrera?”

“In a way.”

Javier’s getting a headache. He rubs two fingers over his lips, squinting faintly at the folder. He should've worn his glasses. “Okay. Keep looking. We know who was behind the bombing, right? So we raid manufacturing houses in Cali to get some of those bombs off the streets. And look for Diaz.”

Feistl slaps his hand on the doorframe—his typical way of saying roger that—and moves to leave. “Oh, shit. One more thing. Your wife called while you were out. I answered your phone for you.”

Javier grits his teeth and tries not to reach for a cigarette. “Keep looking for Diaz.”

Before Feistl can back out of his office all the way, Javier has the telephone to his ear. “Hey, cielito,” comes his boss’s gentle rasp. Chris doesn't hear much more than that, closing the door behind him, but it makes him smile a little. Peña’s got one hell of a heart; he just lets it beat louder for her. 

When she finally appears through the front doors, Javier finally breathes. He doesn’t realise he's been holding his breath until he sees her take the steps down to meet him in the pickup zone. 

“Bonita,” he murmurs, crowding and kissing her before he even bothers to open the door for her. She laughs into his mouth at his tenacity but kisses him back just as eagerly. Her back meets the truck door and it's the sound of a horn honking that forces him away from her. He glares at the car waiting for him to move out of the way even though he's in the wrong. 

She waves at the driver in apology and climbs up into the truck. Javier turns out of the pickup zone and grabs her hand. 

“Fucking…” He huffs, bringing her knuckles to his lips. “Fuckin’ missed you. Jesus Christ, these assholes are trying to kill me.”

She beams at her grumpy husband and places their joined hands on her belly. “We missed you, too.”

Javier is lucky the drive home is so brief. His blood is humming with the need to be close to her, his bones weary with the weight of stress. He hoists her up and wraps her legs around his hips before they've even made it through their door. She buries her face in his neck and kisses everywhere she can reach. “Gotta give you your present, vaquero. Slow down.”

He pulls away and gives her a look that melts her. The fucking look. He’s staring up at her with those brown, begging eyes, a hopeful gleam in his smile. “Gonna tell me now?” 

“Gonna set me down?”

He pats her thigh before he sets her on the floor. She wraps her hand around his tie and pulls him to the sofa. “Sit,” she says softly, kissing him on the cheek. 

He's a little too eager when he obeys her command, adjusting himself on the sofa and spreading his thighs wide. She bites her lip, salivating at the sight of his strong body, so receptive to her. He's already hardening in his jeans, visibly straining against his zipper, and it only worsens when she hooks her thumbs in the waistline of her long skirt and pulls it down with her panties. 

“Jesus.” Javier’s eyes are glued to her body as she reveals it to him, from her glistening cunt to her swelling breasts as she lifts her shirt over her head and unclips her bra. His hand flies to his length, squeezing it over his jeans. “Fuck, baby. Fuck, I wanna touch you.”

She steps closer, her legs bracketing one of his thighs, and removes his hand from his cock. She lifts it to her mouth and sucks on two of his fingers, swirling her tongue around them. His lips part, unconsciously, shifting in his seat and awaiting her permission to touch her. Her bump is more pronounced in this light: the shadows arch over it and bathe it in the soft orange low from the lamp beside the couch. 

“You want to touch me?” she says, whisper-soft, bringing his wet fingers to her pussy and pressing them against her clit. Her eyes flutter, and Javier doesn't know if it's possible to be harder than he is right now. 

“Fuck,” he rasps, swallowing hard. “Baby, please…”

She bends her knees until she's straddling his thigh on the cushions, her wet pussy darkening the fabric of his jeans. Her breath shudders out of her. “You can watch,” she says, gliding her hips experimentally, letting out a moan that makes his entire body convulse with shivers. 

“Fuck!” His head tips back until he stops himself, desperate to watch her grind on him. He keeps his hands dutifully by his sides and fixated on her face as her brow furrows in pleasure, her eyes struggling to focus on him, her hands lifting to her tits and squeezing. 

He's going to die. He cannot refrain from touching her. He needs her more than he needs air right now, and he'll suffocate happily inside her body. But Christ, he wants to watch her fall apart like this. 

“Feels so good,” she gasps, rocking on his thigh, the friction against her clit sending jolts of pleasure ricocheting off each nerve. “Oh, fuck, yes. You're so good to me, Javi. So strong, always keeping me safe. Putting your baby in me.”

She's always been vocal during sex, but this is something else. This is making him leak precum into his pants, his mind going dizzy and lolling with lust. He squeezes his eyes shut and opens them again, but it does nothing to help him clear his head. “Fuck. Fuck. You like that? Like getting yourself off?”

Her moan breaks into a whine as she picks up her pace, her hands clutching his broad shoulders to keep herself from listing. Javier can't hold back anymore, not when her tits press up against him in her desperation to come. He holds onto her hips, squeezing her soft flesh as she stiffens, crying out his name. She soaks his jeans, falling into him, her face buried in his neck. “Oh, baby,” he murmurs, kissing her temple, his fingers gently tracing up and down her sides. “Fuckin’ great present.”

She giggles, drunkenly nipping at his throat. “Not done yet.”

He gently urges her away from him so he can look her in the eye, tucking some of her hair behind her ear. “There’s more? Jesus, bonita, go easy on me.”

“You need to feel good,” she purrs, squeezing his cock over his jeans. 

He hisses. “Fuck. I feel good. I feel real good already.”

Her lips chase his, and he ends it happily, cradling the back of her head as his tongue explores her mouth. She shifts so she's straddling his hips, sitting right atop his cock. “Tell me where you want me.”

He's so lightheaded he can barely process her words, let alone speak. Javier drops his face into her neck this time, breathing in her scent. She's fresh air and rippling water and hormones, and she's popping open the button of his jeans and pulling out his cock. It taps against his stomach as he makes his decision. “Turn around, baby. Sit on my cock; I’ll take care of you. ¿Claro?”

She does so with an excited smile, shuffling around so his cock rests between her asscheeks. Javier holds onto her and shifts down the couch so she can lift up and sink herself down perfectly on him. He works her open, gently guiding her to rest against his chest. She turns her head to meet his eyes, clouded with desire. Her laugh is breathless when he bottoms out inside her. “I'm supposed to be taking care of you,” she mutters, lazily nosing her way along his cheek until she finds his mouth. 

“You are.” Javier rolls his hips, thick and heavy inside her, and nibbles her earlobe. His arm is around her belly like a seatbelt, keeping her snug against his chest as he drags his cock in and out, in and out—

“Javi!” she moans, her thighs trembling around a particularly deep stroke. It makes him feel good, really fucking good, making her clamp down on him like this, her changing body supple and seeking his touch. She's all his to hold this way. She's his to touch forever. Her hair drapes over his own shoulder, soft and rich with her shampoo, and Javier eases her thighs open to keep her firmly on his cock. 

“Who makes you feel this good, hmm?” he coos into her ear. It wrecks her, her sweet drunken eyes trying to focus on him. He grunts when he prods at her cervix, so fucking deep inside her hot, wet body that he's having trouble seeing straight, too. “Who gets to give you a baby? Say it, sweetheart.” He nips her jaw. “Dime.”

She gasps, grasping at his wrists, her eyes rolling back in her head. It's the very picture of eroticism: she's writhing and frowning and trying to stave off her orgasm, make it last. She never wants to lift herself off his delicious cock. 

“Ohhh, you. It's you, Ja—vi!” He presses two fingers to her clit and makes her squeal, hips rocking up against them. He soothes her back against him, keeping himself nice and warm with her body. “It's you, amor, it’s you. You're the one who fucks me this good. You gave me a baby. You're gonna be a daddy. Fuck, it feels so good, Javi, oh!”

“That's right, baby.” His balls draw up at the sound of her babbling for him, his fingers rubbing circles into her clit. Her orgasm is intense when it crashes down on her, but he's got her, he always does. “Easy, easy,” he whispers into her ear, watching her jerk and writhe on top of him, her cunt soaking his cock. “Fuck,” he grits out, tucking his cock all the way inside her warmth. “Jesus. I’m gonna—”

His words crumble to groans when he comes, the pleasure crackling up his spine. He bites down on her shoulder as her pussy milks him, his cock drowning her in hot cum. They both collapse backward on the sofa, Javier’s mouth still attached to her skin, pressing gentle kisses around the bite mark. 

“Fuck. Sorry,” he grumbles. “Does it hurt?”

She just giggles, high-pitched and somewhat delirious. He loves her afterglow; she smells of sex and her, and she always laughs. It's never felt emasculating. “You could never hurt me, vampiro.”

“That…” He huffs his way back to her face, turning her face toward him with his finger, and kissing her softly. “… was a good surprise.”

“Mmm. Maybe I don't fuck you enough,” she says, kissing him back. “Shouldn't have been that big a surprise.”

“Honey. You fuck me plenty.” He laughs into her mouth this time. Her post-sex giggles have their way of infecting him. “I’m an old man, remember?”

She laces their fingers together and places their hands on her belly. “Our little baby,” she says softly, playing with his fingers, “is gonna be so safe and happy with their papá.”

Javier’s entire body feels like it's swelling with the choking, lurching feeling of love for this woman. He slants his mouth over hers, caressing her jaw with his thumb, taking his time with the kiss and relishing the sweetness of her mouth. He'll never forget the first time he tasted her. And here, draped in the body of his pregnant wife, inside their dim little orange-lit home, Javier wants to forget every day before her.

MONTH 5

Most days, his job is thankless. Not that he welcomes the praise; in fact, he'd rather sit at home and talk in whispers with his wife while they share dinner. She knows what to say. She knows when he doesn't need her to say anything. The world doesn't know, and they never seem to learn. 

Javier likes his smoke breaks. He doesn't like the actual smoking. He feels like an asshole, a failure, every time he puts a cigarette between his lips, remembering his promise to her that he'd quit. 

I had a smoke today. Hands on her body, caressing the smooth skin up and down her sides, the only tonic that exists. It was a confession he'd wanted to smother until he suppressed the urge again and quit, for real this time. But he knows what happens when he keeps things from her: he knows the self-hatred that festers, black flesh in a wound, when he lets the silence stretch between them. He knows how it feels to push her away. He never wants to feel that shit again. 

I don't know if you know this about yourself, she said, resting her chin on his chest and looking up at him in the darkness, but your job is stressful. And you've always been a smoker. 

I tried, baby. It was an excuse. A shitty one. But he wanted her to know. He really did try. 

She lifted her hand to his face and traced his lips with her fingers. I know you did. Do you think that makes me love you any less? She lowered her fingers only to grip his chin. Because you'd be real estúpido to think something like that. 

Jesus, he doesn't know how she does it. How she loves him the way she does. 

His fifteen-minute smoke break is the time he carves out for being alone. It's the bright, languid sky as the clouds roll across it. It's the whorls of smoke lifting to join them. It's the bustling of suits between buildings and the sheer lack of anyone approaching to pester him. He's found the perfect spot behind the wall to sequester himself. He manages to get half his cigarette smoked down before someone decides to fuck over his plan to be alone for a fraction of his day. 

“Agente Peña. ¿Puedo decir algo? (May I have a word?)”

Javier glances over at the man who's intruded on his mandated fifteen minutes. Obviously a reporter, carrying a tiny tape recorder with a belt clip. Javier lifts a brow—does he carry that thing on his jeans in the off-chance he can ambush a DEA agent for a story?

“You can have two,” he grunts. “Smoke break.”

The reporter doesn't give up, which doesn't surprise Javier. “I’m from The Bogotá Post. Would you care to comment on the DEA’s failed raid in search of Miguel Rodríguez?”

He certainly would not fucking prefer to reminisce on that. 

“No comment.” 

“And the sicarios who planted the bomb in the attack against President Gomez? Have they been apprehended?”

Apprehended? No. They've done an impressive amount of guesswork into who's involved, sure, but Alvaro Diaz has fled the country, for all they know. As for Cali’s involvement… They haven't spoken a word about it, nor will they. They'll let some other small, hopeful cartel take the credit. It's not their way of doing things: planting bombs and killing civilians. But if their rivals in North Valley were involved, they may have thought it worth it just to fuck them over a little, send a message to potential allies. 

Either way, someone planted a bomb at a school. And nearly killed Javier’s pregnant wife. 

He takes his time puffing at his cigarette. “No comment.”

The reporter clears his throat. “Agent Peña, can you confirm the rumours of escalating rivalry between the Cali Cartel and North Valley?”

Javier taps out some ash. “No comment.”

“Your wife was a victim in the bombing, isn't that right?” 

Javier grinds his teeth and almost bites through his cigarette. His wife isn't a fucking victim. She's alive. She's healthy and safe and he's going to break this asshole’s jaw if he keeps trying to toe his way into Javier’s personal life. 

“I hear your wife is pregnant, Agent Peña.”

One… two… three…

“Did the incident harm the baby?”

The smoke stops curling from Javier’s cigarette. He plucks it from his mouth, turns slowly toward the reporter, and presses the butt of the smouldering cigarette to his chest. 

“What the fuck did you just say to me?”

The reporter backs away until his spine slams against the wall, smacking away the ash on his shirt. “I…”

Javier can't clear the red mist. “Ask me again,” he says, stalking toward the man and sizing him up. “You want an answer, right? So ask me again.”

“I won't print it,” he says frantically. 

“No, you won’t.” Javier looks down his nose at the reporter. “You don’t ask questions about my life. You don't ask or say or print a fucking word about my wife. If you want a story, ask the guys in the mail room. They’ll pick something out of the trash for you.”

He turns and heads back inside, nostrils flaring, slamming doors and drawing worried glances. More than glances, he figures, when the whispers. What's angered the boss so much? That's just him. No, someone definitely pissed him off. 

“Don't you all have work to do,” he grumbles under his breath, charging through the bullpen. “Where’s Ramirez?”

“On lunch, sir,” says Cindy. 

“Tell him nobody in the fuckin’ building talks to a single reporter who wants to target my family for their stories.” Javier shuts the door behind him, locking himself inside his office before anyone else can make the choice to bother him. He loosens his tie and picks up his phone. 

In the bullpen, Cindy and the others exchange brief, knowing glances. 

He’s rushing up the stairs to their apartment, fumbling for the keys, nearly falling over himself to burst through the door, and searching for his wife through the tunnel that suffocates the edges of his vision. 

There she is, in the bedroom, shrugging out of her blouse and exposing her beautiful, soft, swelling belly to him. “Hi, baby,” she says, beaming up at him. “Sara drove me home. I hope things weren't too—mmmph!”

Javier cups her face in his hands and kisses her. She stumbles backward with the force of it, but he guides her toward the wall and gently balances her against it. He needs her. He needs this. Her blouse hangs off her shoulders, her swollen tits heavy against his chest, her body emanating hormones and jasmine and the perfume he bought for her birthday. 

Javier presses closer, crowding her, her rounded belly an ever-present reminder against his abdomen. He gave her that. She's pregnant with his baby. Javier groans into her mouth, sliding his tongue across the seam of her lips for permission. She grants it, letting his tongue enter her mouth, letting him devour her the way he needs to. His hand slips down to her open shirt and squeezes her tits, then slides underneath the fabric, fingers splaying over her lower back. 

She tastes so good, so sweet. There's citrus on her tongue from an orange she ate earlier. He tastes like smoke and wood fire. “You never… told me… what happened at… mmm, work,” she manages to gasp through his assault, winding her arms up around his neck. 

“Need you,” he rasps. If he disconnects from her body now, if he loses the warmth of her skin, he'll die. He knows it. 

“You have me. You have me.” She breathes it into him, telegraphs it onto his skin as her fingers fall to his chest, shoving off his jacket and trembling in their effort to unbutton his shirt. She pouts and it's so cute, so impatient, that he takes pity, trapping her hands in his and helping her shed his shirt. 

“You next,” he says once he's shirtless, sliding the blouse off her shoulders and unclasping her bra. He growls at the sight of her tits and hoists her up onto his hips, lowering her gently onto the bed. She giggles at his overzealous attitude, but it pitches up into a whine when he lies over her and takes a nipple into his mouth, shucking down her skirt at the same time.

“Javi!” she gasps, her hand flying to his hair, fingers curling at the crown of his head. “Insaciable. What's gotten into you?”

He grunts, lavishing her nipple with his tongue, tugging it between his teeth and sucking hard. She moans, her head falling back against the mattress. He alternates between each nipple as his hand snakes between their bodies, dipping beneath the waistband of her panties to wet his fingers in her slit. 

His eyes flicker up to meet hers, black pools that eclipse the sweet, rich brown, his lips still attached to her nipple. She whimpers at the sight: her husband so hungry for her, his tongue flicking and tasting her swollen tits like he’s the one that will be feeding from them. “Fuck,” she croaks, sparks of arousal crackling up and down her spine, a closed circuit. 

He’s gone nonverbal, devoting all his body and mind to worshipping her body, sensitive and needy in her altered state. Javier wets her sternum with his tongue, her belly, pressing kisses to the little life growing in there, at last reaching her panties. He hums in satisfaction when he finds them soaked with arousal, peeling them away from her glistening cunt. His wife whimpers his name. “Please… Please, my love.”

He knows. He’s halfway to pleading, too. Javier flattens his tongue between her folds and grunts at the taste of her, bucking his hips into the mattress. He’s leaking into his fucking pants, looking up at her face, scrunched in pleasure, over the bump on her belly. 

He laps at her clit, drenching his chin in her wetness as he buries his face deeper, licking and sucking at her clit, her hole, her entire fucking pussy until he’s making out with it. The sounds of his ministrations echo throughout the bedroom, mingled with the slick noises of her cunt and her soft moans. 

Eating his wife out may be his favourite activity. The cacophony in his head quiets to a dull roar as he devours her, the hairs of his moustache creating the perfect friction against her clit, his groans of pleasure drowned by her cry as she bursts on his tongue. 

He doesn’t relent while she rides out her high. If anything, he’s spurred on by it, swallowing down everything she gives him and spreading her cum around her pussy, lathering her clit with his soaking tongue. 

“I… I can’t… papi…” She’s wrecked, her mascara dribbling down her cheeks in black tears. Javier moans at the nickname, his cock relentlessly twitching and beading precum into his briefs. He delves deeper, pressing his tongue into her hole. She screams his name but it comes out raw and used. “¡Papi! No puedo, no puedo—gonna come… gonna come again!”

And she does. Fuck, she soaks him, her thighs quivering around his head and her cunt pulsating around his tongue as she spills onto his tongue. Javier grunts, holding onto her thighs to keep her grounded, taking every drop she gives him and swallowing. For the first time since he got her naked, he speaks. “That’s it, bonita,” he coos, licking through her slit one last time and watching her twitch. 

“Fuck.” She covers her face with her hands. “Fuck, Javi.”

Javier kisses his way back up her body until his clothed cock rests on her hip. “‘M sorry, baby,” he mumbles into her neck. 

“For what?” she sighs, scratching her nails along his scalp. His cock twitches. He wonders if there’s anything she could do that wouldn’t make him horny. “For making me come twice? Malo.” She clicks her tongue. “You know that’s not allowed.”

She giggles when his pleading eyes meet hers, her handsome puppy dog, nipping at her jaw. “Can I fuck you?” he asks. 

She pulls his face toward him and kisses him. “You’d better.”

Her eyes transcribe the meaning of her words. Fuck me until you can breathe again. Javier shuffles off the bed and almost trips over himself in his rush to get his pants off. His cock slaps up against his stomach, already dripping precum into his pubic hair, and he crawls over her body again. Keeping a hand on her bump, he slides inside her and bottoms out in one deep stroke. 

He squeezes his eyes shut and tries not to come like a fucking teenager, settling inside her even as she huffs and puffs like the hormonal, impatient siren she is. “I know, baby,” he says gruffly. “I need you, too. Need you so fuckin’ bad.”

“Then fuck me,” she pleads, rolling her hips.

Javier bares his teeth when he picks up his rhythm, the one that gets her gushing around him. “Spoiled,” he groans. “You want my dick real bad, huh, honey?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she says, nodding frantically. “I'm spoiled, I love you too much, love your big cock.”

The praise makes him double over, twitching inside her. His thighs nudge hers until they're sitting up against his hips and his free hand locks around the crook of her knee. He keeps her spread open for him as he fucks her, giving it to his spoiled little wife exactly how she wants it. 

She knows it, too: that he'll give her everything she wants even if he tells her to beg for it through a façade that he won't. Sometimes, though, he knows it's okay to beg himself. 

“Say it like you mean it,” he grits out, thrusting deep and hard and making her eyes roll back in her skull. “Mírame,” he demands. Eyes glassy and ringed with black, she tries to focus on his face and mostly succeeds. “Say it for me, baby. Fuck, wanna hear you. Please.”

She knows exactly what he needs. Her hands slip around her thighs and pull them toward her chest as best as she can with the bump in her belly, opening herself up wider so Javier can watch his cock disappear repeatedly inside the tight seal of her cunt. It makes him a little more wild, his head spinning with desire, her slick clinging to his length and his thighs. Every slap of his hips against her thighs, every wet suck of her pussy, make obscene noises that echo throughout their bedroom. 

“Fuck!” she moans. “You fuck me so good, Javi. You're so big. Baby, it feels so go—od!” 

He moulds his hands to her hips and lifts them slightly, deepening the angle and making her sob with pleasure. Javier hisses, his cock twitching inside her. “Yeah? Like that?” he manages to say between breaths. “Taking me so well. Good fuckin’ girl. You close?”

She cries out when his thumb presses into her clit. “Ohhhhh, Jav, honey, I need to come. Wanna come on your cock.”

But he's not quite done yet. He pulls out of her and urges her gently onto her side, sidling up behind her as he plants sloppy kisses up her spine. Tasting her skin at her shoulder, Javier grasps his cock and slides it through her folds. He shudders at how soaking wet she is. “Muy hermosa,” he whispers into her body. “Too pretty for me. Gonna kill me someday.”

“I will if you don't put your dick inside me,” she huffs. 

“Shh, bonita,” he coos, notching his leaking head at her hole. “Be patient.”

“Fuck patience,” she gasps, pushing her ass back against him. “Take me. Take me, Javi. I’m yours.”

He slips in easily, her walls sucking him in and squeezing his length without abandon. He grunts into her neck, and she gasps at the first short thrust, her hand flying backward to grab a handful of his hair. His hand snakes around to warm her belly while he nudges his leg between her thighs and keeps her spread wide. He can't reach her mouth like this, and he doesn't want to make her expend any more effort, so he sucks bruising kisses into her neck. 

“Oh, shit,” she gasps. Her nails are scratching at his scalp, but it only makes him groan, and she knows it. He likes the delicious sparks of pain. 

He fucks her hard but slow in this position, his cock pressing up against her front wall and making her lips part, her head collapsing into the pillow and foregoing her mission to kiss him. He guides her through it, nudging his nose against her cheek as he kisses her jawline, her throat, the corner of her mouth. 

His fingers find her clit again, teasing the oversensitive bundle. She jerks in his grasp, pushing out soft whimpers. “Can’t… Can’t come again…”

“Please.” His voice sounds pathetic, his thrusts growing sloppy as his hips and stomach begin to pinch with his imminent orgasm. “Need to feel you come, baby. Please.”

“Javi, fuck, I can’t… need—” Her head turns, seeking his mouth, and he leans over her farther to slant his lips over hers. He slips his tongue along hers, tasting her, groaning into her mouth when he feels his balls pull up.

“C’mon, mamá. Give it to me.” He keeps rubbing her clit until he feels her body stiffen underneath him, losing control of her own movements, a telltale gush of warmth soaking his cock and thighs. 

“Mmmm.” She keeps kissing him, getting messier, their noses bumping and his moustache tickling her upper lip. He fucks her hard, his cock throbbing with the need to fill her up with everything he has. “Dámelo, papi,” she whispers. 

His grunts pitch up when he comes until they become whines. “Fuck. Fuck.” His mouth slips from hers, so he puts it on her shoulder instead, biting down. He pumps hot cum into her cunt with every twitch of his cock, puffing air over her skin and shuddering from his spine to his feet. He's pretty sure he whimpered a couple times when he came, but he doesn't care. 

He keeps himself tucked inside her for longer than he should, her sweet body so warm, her scent so enticing. He rests his head next to hers and messily ties up her hair so he won't lie on it. She's immobile but smiling, her eyes fluttering shut as sleep pulls at her. Since her pregnancy, she's liable to fall asleep at any given moment—especially after three orgasms. 

Still, she tangles her fingers with his, resting over her baby bump. “Tell me,” she says softly. 

“What, baby?” He’s a little distracted by the soft skin of her throat, nosing his way to her ear and nibbling. 

“What happened at work?”

He grunts unhappily. “Fucking reporter. Asking me questions.”

She giggles. “That's their job, Jav.”

“He was asking questions about you, mi amor.” He rubs their joined hands over her abdomen. “About our baby.”

That gets her attention. “What the fuck business does he think he has asking questions about our baby?”

Javier’s blood is thrilled by the beautiful, terrifying tone in the voice of the woman curled up in his arms. “Tranquila, mamá bear. I told him to fuck off. Nobody touches our baby.”

In fact, the thought alone is enough to summon the beast that lives in his bloodstream. It has claws and teeth and it dwarfs the sun. Nobody touches her. Nobody touches the baby inside her. He and the monster will ensure it. 

“Javi. Javi, wake up.”

He's become a light sleeper since her pregnancy began, finely-tuned to any sounds of distress that come from her side of the bed. She's sitting up in bed, one hand on her belly and another grasping his wrist. 

Panic strikes him like the chime of midnight. He sits bolt upright and places his hand over hers. “Baby, what's wrong?”

But her eyes are soft and buttery, still half-asleep. He feels wide awake, terror-stricken at the thought that something’s gone awry. “Feel,” she whispers, slipping her hand out from beneath his so his palm is flush with her belly. 

He waits, watching her stomach with a frown, until the jolt happens. It's small, concentrated, the minuscule undulating movement that makes him blink up at her through the darkness. “Holy shit.”

She begins to laugh, tears slipping from the corners of her eyes. “Holy shit,” she sniffles. 

Javier crawls up next to her, his hand still firm on her belly, feeling the flip and turn of his baby inside her. “Mi amor,” he whispers, pressing his lips to the salty tears on her face. 

Their hands remain there well into the morning. 

MONTH 6

They're both late for work today because Javier wanted to fuck his wife before breakfast. 

It's not that he's any more insatiable than he was before her pregnancy: it just seems he likes to take his time with it, take his time with her. Kiss every square inch of her body and admire it from above or below as they connect, puzzle pieces in the darkness or the morning glow. Hold onto her afterward and soothe her. Make her feel worshipped. By the time he's through with the worship, though, it usually means they're scrambling not to get chewed out by their respective bosses. Thankfully, hers is a lot more forgiving. 

He drives her to work and kisses her good-bye on the steps. He makes sure she gets inside safely and drives to the Embassy. He buries his nose in paperwork and wants to shred it all to scraps. He catches air of the word Stechner and sincerely hopes he isn't in the building. He takes a smoke break in his usual spot, thanks to Ramirez sending word to the reporters that like to linger around the Embassy about Agent Peña’s nasty attitude. It's nice and quiet. 

He calls her at lunch and listens peacefully as she talks about her day, her coworkers, the excitable kicking of the baby inside her. She puts the phone to her belly and Javier whispers into the receiver. 

“Te amo, pequeño. Take it easy on mamá. She's keeping you safe in there.”

She laughs. “Don't scold our baby before it’s born, gruñón. How's work?”

“A miracle I haven't gone blind.”

“Are you wearing your glasses?” she asks sweetly. 

He isn't. “Are you?”

She clicks her tongue. “Answering a question with another question is an admission of guilt, my love.”

“Yeah? Who told you that?”

“You,” she says. “And I’m not the one who spends all day reading files in the dark. Put on your glasses, vaquero, and I’ll be real nice to you tonight.”

Javier scrambles to tuck the phone between his ear and shoulder, digging around in his jacket pocket. He slips his glasses onto his face. 

“That's my boy,” she says teasingly. “Now take a look in your wallet. You’ll need your glasses to examine it properly.”

Javier frowns. “You put something in my wallet?”

“Just look, sweetheart.”

He flips open his wallet and finds the edge of a Polaroid picture peeking out. He plucks it out and nearly slips off his chair. 

His eyes flick upward to make sure his door is locked before he fixes his eyes back on the image. Nobody else gets to see this: his wife, scantily-dressed in his favourite baby blue lace, taking the picture of herself from above as she displays her body on their bed. One leg is bent and the other stretching out, a hand resting just beneath the curve of the bump on her belly, her tits spilling out of the lacy bra. She's got that wicked smile on her face, and Javier drops the picture abruptly on the desk to frantically adjust his hardening cock in his trousers. The phone tips off his shoulder, and he has to scramble to pick it up. 

“Jesus Christ, baby. Jesus.” He can hear her laughing as he fixes the phone back to his ear. “When did you take this?”

“You were working late a couple nights ago. Thought I’d make the next time a bit more enjoyable.” 

There's rustling outside his door, and he swipes the picture off the desk. “Holy shit. You expect me to get back to work now? Fuckin’ fox.”

“Just think of it like motivation,” she says, oh-so innocently. He pictures her twirling the telephone cord around her finger, and it doesn't help his new erection. “It’ll make you want to come home that much faster.”

“Yeah. Got that right.” He winces as he squeezes his shaft over his pants again. “Playing with fire, bonita. I’ll have to shoot anyone who tries to take my wallet in the fucking head.”

“Aw, honey.” She drops her voice to a whisper. “You can take one next time.”

He huffs. She's trying to kill him. “Of me or you?”

“Why not both?”

“Sir, we've got a likely location for Alvaro Diaz.”

Javier’s head shoots up and his neck twinges. Feistl stands in his doorway. Apparently, Javier forgot to lock it. “Jesus, Feistl. Knock.”

He seems to recognise that he's intruded on what the bullpen has dubbed Agent Peña’s wife time and cringes. “Sorry, sir.”

He shakes his head and says into the phone: “I gotta go, baby.”

“Don't work too hard,” she purrs. “Say hi to Chris for me.”

Javier’s mood turns sour the second he hangs up. “Where’s Diaz?”

Feistl is smart not to apologise again or linger. “Safe house outside Cali. There aren't phones in the house, but he made a call to his girlfriend from a pay phone down the street. It was the only house nearby registered as abandoned, but satellite confirms they've been keeping up with the gardening.”

The news is thrilling. “Shit. Your informant was right.”

Feistl shakes his head. “That's the thing,” he says. “My informant is a male escort who Pacho paid pretty handsomely. They were seeing each other regularly, but apparently North Valley was paying him a lot more to approach a DEA agent and pin the bombing on Cali.” 

Javier doesn't know if he can frown any deeper. His wife would probably insist that he's capable of anything. 

“North Valley wanted the school president dead? What, because his kid fucked up the coke delivery?”

“They've been known to get violent when people don't pay their dues. It checks out.” Javier has to admit he agrees. Cali’s involvement in the bombing makes little sense given their dedication to politics for getting what they want. Feistl continues, “Seems likely they also paid Diaz to plant the bomb so it would look convincing.”

“Explains why he's on the run.”

“Bingo.” Feistl folds his arms over his chest and says, “My guy’s got a lot riding on my promise to get him out of the country.”

“So why come to you with the truth?” Javier points out. “He could run away with North Valley’s money.”

“Not if Herrera finds out. Cali’s not publicly violent, but that doesn't stop them from avenging betrayal in private.” Feistl shrugs. “He knows we're the only ones that can get him out—safely.”

Javier pins Feistl with a glare. “You gotta be sure about this, Chris. Dead fucking sure. Especially if you want to apply for a visa.”

“I’m sure,” he replies. “This guy’s scared for his life. He wants no more part of their money. He just wants to get out.”

Javier rubs his jaw. “Okay. Good.”

Feistl pats the doorframe. “Team’s setting up to raid Diaz’s safe house. He won't see it coming. If he's there, we’ll get him.”

“Feistl.” The agent turns around in the doorway, and Javier sets his jaw. “By the book.” 

“You got it, sir.”

Javier looks down at the picture on his desk. It’s a rare occasion he allows a photograph of himself, but he's happy to get behind the camera to document his wife’s beauty. This one  is a memory from their honeymoon. The sun makes her squint and there's sand in her wind-blown hair, and she's laughing at something he said, though he doesn't remember what it was. She's wearing a flowing dress and carrying a pair of sandals in one hand, the other shielding her face from the sunlight. It's his favourite picture of her. 

Second favourite. 

“One more thing.”

He's doing things by the book this time around. He won't get entangled in the spidery webs of conspiracy again. He's got a family to stay alive and healthy for… as healthy as one can be in a life like this. But he stops Feistl anyway. 

“When you bring in Alvaro Diaz,” says Javier, “I want to be the first to talk to him.”

Feistl’s brows shoot up. “Just talk, sir?”

He remembers the terror of that day: the brief seconds he thought his wife was gone forever.

“What else?” says Javier. 

Feistl leaves without another word. 

When she slides into the passenger’s seat, Javier leans in, grabs her chin, and kisses her like usual. But she doesn't relent once he begins to drive. Her mouth travels from his lips to his jaw to his ear, where she sucks and nibbles. Javier grunts, his hand flying to her thigh. 

“Baby,” he rasps. “Fuck. Más despacio.”

“Javi,” she whines into his ear, her hand on his chest, indulging in the strong body of her husband as she traces his pecs, his stomach, the hardness in his lap. “Wanna suck your cock. Want to make you feel good. Let me? Please?”

He inhales sharply. He wants to. So badly it makes his throbbing cock twitch in his pants. She sees it, fondly squeezing his length with a hum. But he blinks hard and focuses on driving. “We can't, baby,” he says, swallowing the pang of self-loathing in his chest for refusing her, even for something so small. “Too crowded in here. Don't want you to get hurt.”

“You never used to care about that,” she teases, licking a stripe up his throat. 

“This—shit, this fuckin’ truck,” he grunts, hips bucking up into her hand. “Too small. You gotta be comfortable.”

“You'll take good care of me.” She caresses his thighs and nuzzles her face into his neck. “I'll take care of you, too, Javier. You know I will. Please let me, honey.”

She really is spoiled. And Javier is nothing if not accommodating to his girl. He pulls into their driveway after a short but agonising drive and swiftly parks in the garage between two empty cars. She sidles up next to him on the bench and pulls him toward her for a kiss. 

He cradles the back of her head and she cups his cheek. It's slow to begin, bending to his own whims as he takes his time tasting her. Her mouth opens for him and he plunders her mouth with his tongue. “Did you… like my… mmm, present?” she asks when he gives her room to breathe. 

“Are you kidding me?” He pushes his hips up into her wandering hand to let her feel his aching erection. “Been hard all fucking day.”

She grins wickedly. “Want to know something?” she says, pulling back and perching with her legs folded underneath her. Her fingers slip buttons out of each hole on her blouse, slowly revealing her blue lace bra to him. “I changed before we left for work. Thought you'd like it.”

Javier lurches toward her and places his hands on her swollen tits. “Love these,” he murmurs, tracing his fingertips over the lace at the swell of her breasts. “My beautiful girl. Take it off.”

She slips the blouse off her shoulders and he can see her protruding belly, her blue panties peeking out from the waistband of her skirt. She's a picture. Prettier than even the little thing he keeps in his wallet. “Are you going to stare,” she says, “or will you take those stupid pants off?”

He unzips his dress pants and she yanks them down to his thighs, taking his briefs with them. Her mouth waters at the sight of his leaking head tapping against the hairs on his stomach. She shuffles backward until she has enough room to bend over him, pressing a flutter of kisses down his belly, up his twitching length, to its tip. 

Javier’s head thunks against the driver’s window. His wife is on her knees in the fucking parking garage, on the bench of his truck, her ass arching up in the air as she wraps her lips around the head of his cock. He chokes on his own tongue. “Jesus… fuck.” His hand finds the crown of her head, resting comfortably, grounding himself in her soft hair. She suckles on the tip for a while, taking her time with him, hungry and hormonal and fucking dripping for him. “Fuck. That’s it. Doing so well. Fucking love you.”

He speaks in broken sentences, but it’s all right, because she can only moan around him as she begins to take him deeper. The hand that isn’t supporting her own weight shifts to fondle his balls, and he goes blind, bucking up into her throat without warning. She gags, and he’s ready to pull out, already muttering apologies, but the gaze she pins on him tells him she’s okay. She wants this. They’ve known each other for so long that even a fleeting glance will tell a story. 

She sinks down until her nose is buried in his pubic hair, tears collecting in the corners of her eyes. Javier reaches out and swipes them away with his thumb. 

When she swallows around him, he thinks he goes cross-eyed. Then she begins a rhythm, bobbing her head up and down, and it’s so overwhelming that he forgets to breathe for a moment, schooling himself to relax his tense muscles and just feel. 

And he feels. Every slow drag of his length along the walls of her hot, wet throat shakes loose his very soul and makes all of him tremble. The song of it is filthy and obscene, and its melody clings to the ceiling of his brain. It’s a clawing, high feeling he cannot rein in. It’s cloying and hazy. The window fogs with his breath when his head lolls, unable to remember his fucking name. Where is he, what is he, it’s her on her knees and it’s all he knows—

He can't even speak when he comes, when her mouth seals tight around him and her tongue wiggles along the vein on his shaft and her hand squeezes his balls. He just feels his face screw up, his brows pinching, and he unleashes a vaguely pitchy grunt, only half of which is clear through the rasp in his voice. He can’t even remember a curse word. 

When she slides off his cock and swipes a drop of cum off his length, bringing it to her lips, he’s still recovering his vision. “Told you I’d be extra nice to you,” she says with a grin, tucking him back inside his pants and kissing him so sweetly that he’s dizzy with the shift. 

“Come here,” he croaks, tugging her gently onto his lap. His hand rests on her belly like it usually does. Her lips are swollen, her makeup smeared, and he tucks her into his chest, folding her precious heart up inside his ribs so nobody will ever touch it again. 

“Javi.”

“Mmm.”

“I think it’s a girl.”

MONTH 7

She's been staring at the little picture in her hand since they got home. Actually, she stared at it throughout the whole drive back, too. When he closes the door behind them and sits with her at the kitchen table, he looks at the picture, too. 

They’re both so busy fawning over the little square image that they forget to make dinner until ten o’clock. As they lounge on the couch, a record crackling out Vicente Fernández, Javier plays with her fingers as he rests his head on her lap, humming along to the music into her growing belly. 

“She’s gonna need a name,” he murmurs. 

She hums, using her free fingers to toy with his hair. She’s exhausted, slipping in and out of dreamland, their daughter having kicked up a storm inside her today. “Our little butterfly. Little star. I’m fresh out of ideas, Javi,” she says groggily.

“We’ll figure it out, amor.” Javier presses his lips to the bump peeking out from beneath his button-up. It’s all she’s wearing, so his head is nice and warm on her thighs. 

She giggles, her head falling back against the sofa. “I’m gonna have a little baby girl. Is it bad that I can’t wait?”

“I wanna hold her so bad it’s killing me,” says Javier. “But I still get to hold you.” He squeezes her hand. 

“Casanova,” she mumbles, her eyes fluttering. Sleep is pulling at her. 

“C’mon,” he urges softly, standing up so he can help her off the couch. “Gotta get you to bed, cariño.”

She protests with her mouth only, but her body is pliant and willing to go. Once they’re in bed, it’s minutes before her breathing slows and her lips part in blissful sleep. He watches her for a moment. His best friend. He used to pine over her like a puppy and wish he was the one who got to marry her over her shitty ex-husband. Here she is, his ring on her finger, and here they both are. Older, maybe wiser, but happier than they both were the first day he slipped into that nondescript little café and befriended the pretty girl behind the counter. 

The pretty girl who’s carrying his little star. 

“Hey, baby girl,” he murmurs, placing his hand atop the bump on his wife’s belly. She remains asleep, content and warm in his arms. He's falling asleep, too, his eyelids dragging. But he feels compelled to say this. “Soy tu papá. You're inside your mamá right now, but we're gonna meet you soon.” 

His eyes close, but he still faintly hears himself speak. “I'm gonna keep you safe, mi mariposa.”

On the bedside table lies the picture of the sonogram. 

They round up Alvaro Diaz at the safe house, and he confesses to every crime. When Feistl and Van Ness escort him to the van, Javier is already inside it. 

The kid is short, mousy, and won't meet Javier’s eye. “Alvaro Diaz,” he says. “You've got a real fuckin’ set on you, I’ll give you that. How much did they pay you, huh?”

“I…” Diaz shakes his head. “They didn't give me a choice. They threatened my girl.”

How very funny. Javier doesn't have a scrap of sympathy. The beast inside him is rearing up with its teeth snapping. “Yeah? Your girlfriend? She get away unscathed?”

Diaz nods meekly. 

“How much did they pay you?”

“I… want a l—lawyer.”

Javier lifts a brow. “Did you enjoy it?”

“What?”

“Did you like it? Putting that bomb together and blowing up the president?”

Diaz’s hands are white-knuckling his own knees. “It wasn't personal,” he squeaks. 

Even fucking funnier. 

Javier leans forward and drowns Diaz in his black gaze. “You made it personal when your bomb almost killed my wife. You're lucky you're still alive to get a goddamn lawyer.”

“I'm resigning,” he tells her one night. 

She lifts her head and frowns at him. “What? You're sure?”

“I’m sure.” He caresses her spine with his fingers. “I’m done, baby. I’m tired, I’m smoking, and I want to go home. Real home. I want to raise our baby somewhere safe and quiet, and I want you to be safe. I could never guarantee that here, and you still came with me.”

“You should know by now that I’ll follow you anywhere, Javier.” She smiles, kissing him deep and slow. And that's it. The end of it. 

Next week, on a random Tuesday, a reporter presses a button on a tape recorder, and Javier throws his entire career away.

Crosby is furious, of course. On Javier’s desk sits an already-packed box of effects, a picture of her on top. 

“Any aspirations you had for your career just got dragged behind the barn and shot.”

Javier thinks of his wife and the baby girl he gets to meet oh-so soon. This world, this building, and the people inside it seem so small in comparison. 

“My aspirations have changed,” he tells Crosby. “I resigned from the DEA this morning.”

They're a little worried about getting to the airport only to get told she can't fly in her condition. But when the airline lets her on with no questions, Javier is a little worried about the lax security in this place. What kind of company lets a seven-month-pregnant woman fly cross-continent without so much as a medical once-over? She kisses his cheek as they settle in their seats and holds his hand. “I’m okay,” she tells him, because of course she knows what he's thinking. 

When they touch down in Texas, Javier pulls along all the luggage until he notices her stop dead in her tracks. He's by her side immediately; he's been monitoring her Braxton Hicks contractions, they've both been counting the flutters and kicks to her belly, and nothing has been out of place. They see their doctor every two weeks, although now they'll need to consult a new physician in Laredo. If there's something wrong, he should be prepared to note it, take care of it. It doesn’t help the terror that strikes him. 

But she's looking at a television inside the duty-free shop. BREAKING NEWS, it emblazons in red across the screen. He's seen so much breaking news in the past ten years that it hardly fazes him. 

Then he reads it. 

Universidad Nacional de Colombia bomber found dead in cell, suspected suicide. 

Her hand flies to her belly and she sways a little on her feet. Javier steadies her, a hand steadfast on her back, guiding her to a nearby chair. “Baby,” he says softly, brushing her hair behind her ear and kneeling in front of her. 

There are tears in her eyes. “I’m here,” she whispers. His hand covers hers: two thumbs rub circles on her belly, soothing the excitable baby inside. “We're here.”

He senses the conflict inside her. She's a loving soul, and a soul like that often aches for others more than herself. Sometimes she gets afraid to feel too happy. But they're home, together, so close to bringing their little butterfly into the world. 

“I know, sweetheart.” Javier kisses her cheek. “I know.”

She smiles at him through her tears and brushes a knuckle across his chin. “Let's go home, Javi.”

MONTH 8

Javier has a problem. 

It's two o’clock in the morning. They've left the window open for the past week because she complains about overheating in the night. Javier, who runs hot in his sleep, doesn't mind. That isn't his problem. 

As his wife lies sleeping next to him, Javier stares up at the ceiling and tries to soothe his deep, thrumming arousal. It comes from the hormonal scent of her, belly round and lips parted in serenity, that banks off every wall in Javier’s head and rattles his brain against his skull. The hard line of his cock is visible, tenting the sheets, and he can't seem to conjure a single thought, no matter how dark or abhorrent, that will ease the ache of desire. 

He can't wake her up. He won't. She's so peaceful in her sleep, the moon brushing her cheeks with silvery light, her lashes fluttering in the small movements of her eyes behind their lids. Her round belly peeks out beneath his button-up, which she insists on wearing to bed because it smells like him. 

He wants to bury his body inside hers until they become one. He wants to possess her. He wants to sidle up right next to her and support her bump under his hands, breathe in the scent of her hair and the taste of her skin. He wants to slide his leaking cock inside her and fuck her deep, drawing those sleepy, buttery noises from her throat. But she's soft and still and he is certain he will become the world’s shittiest husband if he wakes his pregnant wife to take care of him. 

He tries to shift slowly off the bed, but a little whine puffs out of her mouth. She's got one leg hitched up over one of his, her hand over his chest, and her calf flexes to keep him close. Javier’s heart is pounding wildly to keep pace with the love he has, the need he has. “I’m here,” he whispers to her, though he’s almost sure she’s still asleep. “I’m not leaving, baby. Just going to the bathroom.”

Her nose traces a lazy path from his collarbone to his jawline. “Can I go with you?” she mumbles. Her sleepy words ignite a candle in his chest, one that melts the wax of his sensibilities. 

Is it possible to fall in love a million times with one person?

He puts his forehead to hers. Her eyes haven’t opened once. “You need to sleep, vaquera.”

“‘M pregnant,” is her nonsensical reply. 

“That’s right, baby. Gotta get your sleep.”

“Mmm-mmm,” she protests. “Means I get what I want.”

Oh, she has him there. Javier chuckles, and her eyes finally peel open. Her sleepy grin makes him lean down and attack her lips for a kiss. She barely reciprocates, merely humming happily, but he doesn’t mind. She lets him slip out of bed and follows him, a little waddle in her step with her belly in the way. Her back has been aching so badly for the past month, and he can see her weary face pinch a little in pain when she first stands up. Since he sleeps naked, she spots his aggressive hardness instantly, tapping his stomach and leaking into his pubic hair. She bites her lip. “Oh, honey.”

“Tell me about it,” he grumbles.

When he guides her to the bathroom, he crowds her up against the vanity and laces his fingers underneath her belly. When he lifts the weight of the bump, she audibly moans, her head falling back onto his shoulder. He nips her earlobe, certain she feels the hardness of him at her ass.

“Thought you had to pee,” she sighs, a little giggle slipping out from the sheer relief of him taking the weight of her baby in his arms.

He’s so busy burying his face in her neck and inhaling her scent that he forgets to respond for a moment. “Need to jerk off,” he groans. “Didn’t want to wake you up.”

She hums. Every little noise she makes sends sparks crackling down his spine. “Thinking about me?” she asks, gazing at him in the mirror through her heavy-lidded eyes. 

“Mmm. So soft.” He kisses her neck, her shoulders, toying with the collar of his shirt draped over her. “So beautiful. You smell so fucking good. Carrying my baby.”

“Don’t have to jerk off,” she says, turning her head and seeking his lips. He slots his mouth over hers and traps her in a soft kiss. He’s leaking onto the back of the shirt she wears, and she reaches backward to grasp his shaft. Her hands are warm and soft and so much gentler than he would be. He grits his teeth against her cheek. “Let me do it, Javi.”

He huffs. “You shouldn’t… fuck, shouldn’t have to—”

“I want to.” She squeezes the head of his cock and his chin falls onto her shoulder. 

“Fuck. I love you. I love you.” He whispers it like a prayer into her ear as she swipes her thumb through the precum at his tip and begins to slowly jerk him off.

It’s slightly awkward in this position: his arms around her, holding up her belly, one of her hands twisted and tucked between their bodies. But it feels so fucking good to have some relief—for both of them. His mouth falls open and his brow furrows when she establishes a quick rhythm, his nose crushed in the crook of her neck. He needs to breathe air that's touched with her scent or he’ll suffocate and drop dead. 

She rests her head against his, the tension in her back loosening, the coils that tighten between the knobs of her spine untying as her husband holds her swollen belly. 

Even half-conscious, she knows she's making him feel good. His precum lubes him up enough that she can stroke him easily, and she whispers things into the darkness of the bathroom as his breathing warms her throat and his heaving chest pushes against her back. 

So hard. Breathe, Javi, I’ve got you. You always take good care of me. Let me make you feel good.

She likes when he whines. It makes her feel strong, capable, sexy. Her mere touch sucks the breath out of him in fast, punching groans—ones that pitch upward into whimpering croaks of her name. 

She coos at him through the din, the thick hazy air that tugs at her senses with the desire to sleep. It doesn’t take long for him to come. He really does huff out a whine when the pleasure racks his body, jerking his hips up into her hand and spilling hot cum all over her back, her ass, his own stomach. It’s a mess, and it isn’t the most earth-shattering orgasm he’s ever had—it certainly doesn’t compare to being inside her—but she’s oh-so tired, and sex with Javier is more often than not a doubly exertive sport. Besides, coming by her hand is infinitely more pleasurable than his own. He winds down by breathing into her skin, kissing her jaw and her cheek and her shoulders and murmuring soft thank-yous. 

He cleans her up and brings her back to bed after they both use the bathroom, and Javier can sleep better. When he wakes up, his fingers are entangled with hers, and his mouth has somehow found his favourite spot on her back. Their wedding rings glimmer in the golden Texas sun. 

She loves the barn cats. 

Because she knows Javier won't let her lift a finger, not even to help carry a bucket of slop for the pigs, she's settled into a chair near the haylofts where the stray cats love to roll and lounge. She has a parenting book in her hand, but there's one particular calico who's taken a liking to her and keeps bumping his nose into the novel. She coos at the old, one-eyed feline and abandons her book to gather him up in her arms. 

He settles in happily, nudging his furry forehead against her baby bump and curling on her lap. She introduces herself to the cat as if he can understand her, and Javier watches her with a surprising jolt of jealousy. Jealous of a goddamn cat. He huffs to himself and continues to saddle up the brown-and-white paint horse Cowboy. 

“I wish I could ride,” she tells him while the calico licks her fingertips. 

“You will, baby.” Javier saunters over once he’s got Cowboy in his saddle and she tips her head down to look at him over her sunglasses. He’s a different man in Texas. She rarely saw him out of a suit in Colombia, which was fine and dandy, but here, he wears those tight fucking jeans and those boots and those flannel button-ups. He keeps his moustache trimmed as usual, and he’s the same Javier she’s always been in love with, but there’s something about the way he carries himself here. 

It makes her beam a little. Sometimes, she gets overwhelmed by the sheer joy she feels at having him in her life. Joy that he’s alive, safe, and healthy. Joy that she gets to wake up married to her best friend every day. 

Javier lifts his eyebrows suggestively. “Just gonna have to ride a different cowboy in the meantime.”

She snorts. “My very own poet.”

They’ve taken up residence in the guest house on the ranch to make sure they don’t impede on Chucho’s territory, even though he’s repeatedly told them he’s overjoyed to have them back in Laredo. She loves Javier’s father, and he loves her like a daughter, but it’s nice not to share guilty looks when Chucho teases them about their late-night activities over breakfast. 

He was ecstatic when they told him she was having a girl. I can’t wait to meet my first-ever nieta, he gushed. When they touched down in Texas, Chucho was waiting to pick them up at the airport with a surprise in the backseat: a tiny pink onesie. She burst into tears and wouldn’t release Chucho from their embrace, but he didn’t mind. Javier had to discreetly wipe a tear aside under his sunglasses. 

The calico hops dutifully off her lap when she pats his bum to signal she needs to stand up. “He’s beautiful,” she remarks, accepting Javier’s hand. He holds onto it as they greet Cowboy once again. She lets him sniff her hand and he nuzzles into her palm. She grins up at him. “Hey, stud. You’re the one carrying my husband around here, huh?”

Cowboy snorts in accordance. Javier pats his snout. “C’mon, old man. Let’s round up those sheep before it gets dark.”

“Two real vaqueros,” she muses. “You gotta wear your hat, baby. Please.”

Javier reaches around a post and plucks a cowboy hat off a hook. She practically squeals in excitement, but he sets it on top of her head first. He assesses her, that cute little maternity dress underneath one of his flannel shirts, complete with his hat that dips down over her brows. “Yeah. Looks a hell of a lot better on you.”

She schools her face to look somewhat stern. “Stick ‘em up, partner.”

Javier pats her ass. He decides to make her wear that the next time she rides him. For now, he finds another hat and secures it on his own head, guiding Cowboy out of his pen and toward the sheep pens. Out in the sunshine, the horse bends his head and gently brushes his snout against her swollen belly, his ears flicking with curiosity. Javier clicks his tongue with a warning of, “Careful, boy,” but she smiles and rubs Cowboy’s snout. 

“My baby girl is in here,” she tells the horse. “Can you feel her?”

Javier grins, and he looks good enough to eat in that hat, his moustache and his crooked smile and his dimples striking her deep in her gut. She hopes their little girl will get that smile, those dimples, those eyes. “He can. Animals are like that.”

“So many new friends.” She steps back and watches fondly as Javier swings himself up onto Cowboy’s back. “I like it here, Jav. I really do.”

Javier’s chest swells with a pride that fills him up all the way to his throat. He swallows. This is where he grew up. His childhood ranch. In the main house, Chucho cooks for their twice-weekly family dinner. The home runs over with memories, all the way from the front porch to the outskirts of the property where he would sneak out to watch the stars at night or drink beers with his friends. It’s where he watched his mother and father navigate their lives so deeply in love, and it’s where he now gets to live with the love of his life. The sun is beginning to set and he can’t help but wish his mother were here to meet the incredible woman next to him. 

While he rounds up the sheep into their pens, his wife takes a walk around the property, never straying too far at his request. She greets the sheepdogs and bides her time cuddling up with another stray cat until Javier is hopping down from Cowboy’s back and heading across the field to join her.

A spark of panic rises in him when she turns toward the river. 

Javier calls her name suddenly. “Don’t go near the water.”

She looks back over her shoulder with a frown. “Is it deep?”

There’s some tension in his jaw that he rubs away as he approaches her. “The boats,” he tells her. 

She takes a step backward until she bumps into his chest. “Shit,” she mutters, reaching for his hand. “I’m sorry, Javi. Let’s go back.”

His gaze lingers a little on the river, void of a soul even as he pictures the motor churning up the water, and shakes his head. She squeezes his hand. “Whatever you’re about to say,” she says softly, “don’t. They’re still here, and they always will be. But you…” Her fingers at his temple, brushing aside stray hairs, soothe the erratic heartbeat in his chest. “… saved so many lives. Stopped so much evil. Don’t you dare say a word about it being for nothing. Those people that didn’t die because of you would disagree. Me included.”

Javier places his hand on her belly. “Mi mariposa,” he says, whisper-quiet. “Your mamá always knows what to say.”

There’s a little porch swing outside the Peña home. It’s a nice wraparound porch, the kind she wants when they find a place of their own. It’s long after dinnertime, and Chucho is in bed. Husband and wife swing idly on the bench.

“I can’t wait to look at her, Javi,” she tells him, resting her head on his shoulder. 

He knows the feeling. He’s pictured her a hundred times: whether she’ll have her mother’s eyes or his, her nose or his. Nothing will compare to really knowing. 

They stare up at the stars together. Of all the blinking lights in the galaxy and the planets that may or may not house life, he got to exist on this one, with the one person who erases that sensation of feeling so utterly small in such a big universe. 

MONTH 9

She’s angry. 

Javier senses it when he closes the door softly behind him. She’s sitting at the table with two plates of steaming food atop it. She meets his eye and stands up abruptly, despite the swaying she gets from the adjustment of her big belly. He rushes to steady her, but she smacks his hand away. 

“You're late,” she says plainly, her eyes brimming with tears. It’s only five o’clock. An early finish on the ranch. 

He knows his wife better than she does. She's his best friend. Her moods are like the lines on his palm, traceable and legible. It's how he knows what is wrong before he even says a word. 

“Sit,” he says. “On the couch. Go on.”

She storms—well, waddles—toward the sofa without another word. When she settles slowly onto the cushions, her brow pinched with a permanent tension as she glares at him, Javier tilts his head to the side. “You got an attitude problem today, huh, baby?”

“Don’t call me sweet names,” she snaps. “I missed you.”

The vertigo from one statement to the next should be dizzying, but it’s been par for the course over the last few weeks. Javier pouts, sinking to his knees in front of her. “You don’t want me to be sweet?” he grunts, yanking down her panties and popping open all the buttons on the flannel she stole from his closet today. It’s rare he sees her in her own clothes nowadays. It awakens some sort of caveman inside him, prideful and beastly at the sight of his pregnant wife in his shirts.

She’s very, very pregnant. Pregnant and hormonal and so horny that it’s become an impediment in her day-to-day. She wants him all the time, more than he can keep up with, and she knows it no matter how much she pouts. Javier is right: she’s spoiled, but it isn’t her fault he gives her everything she wants. 

“You gonna beg me for it, or are you gonna be mean?” Javier blows cool air straight onto her glistening cunt. She’s already wet and writhing; his poor girl must have been waiting for hours to get her fill of him. 

“Fuck you,” she gasps. 

It sends all his blood rushing to his cock. “Mean, then.” His fingers part her folds and his tongue flattens against her clit. She cries out, hand fisting in her hair. She’s not in the mood for sweet. She’s in pain from bearing the weight of her baby for so long, she’s slow and waddling and swollen, and she doesn’t want to think. She wants to feel, and she wants it rough. 

Javier is eager to indulge, because he always is. Her commanding side thrills him, just as her whimpering, needy side does. It’s all her. His tongue wiggles against her clit before flicking at it, two fingers sinking into her hole until they’re knuckle-deep. One of her legs kicks out, so he wraps an arm around her thigh and spreads her open wider. If she wants to be demanding, so will he. He’ll take every drop of wetness he wants from her pussy and she’ll cry his name.

His fingers curl inside her and his mouth plunders her, his tongue lapping up her slick and his nose bumping against her clit. “Fuck,” she groans, “make me come. Please. Please.”

Javier smacks the thigh he’s holding onto and her head falls back against the couch. “Begging,” he says smugly. 

“Cocky bastard—” When he takes her clit between his teeth, she does sob, letting her tension snap. “Fuck!”

He keeps suckling on her clit between his lips and his fingers inside her as she writhes under him, coming hard and fast. He doesn’t relent even as she pushes at his head, his tongue delving into her hole next to his fingers and tasting the slick she produces. It's fucking heaven. Sweet and tangy and just as warm as the rest of her. He will die buried inside her body, he decides. 

He only allows one kiss to the bump on her belly before he pins her with a stare. “Hands and knees.”

Feeling defiant, she pouts down at him. Javier stands up and wraps his hand around a section of her hair. “You want to get fucked?” he asks. 

“If you don't get inside me right now, I will—”

He clicks his tongue. “Kill me and you don't get fucked. Hands and knees, baby.”

She shifts, her swollen belly beneath her as she arches her ass up in the air and presses it back against his clothed cock once he’s positioned behind her. He hastily pulls himself from his jeans and slaps the head against her asscheek. “Gonna beg?”

“Fucking fuck me,” she huffs. “Fuck this baby out of me, Javier. Fuck me, please, just fuck me—”

It's easy to slip inside her with how wet she is. “Nngh, fuck,” she groans. 

“You like me balls-deep,” he grunts, pulling out until only the tip throbs inside her, then thrusting hard and sure. It's what she needs: hard, rough, fast. “Don't you?”

“Mmmm.” Her lips part and drool clicks in her throat as he begins a punishing pace, his hips slapping against her ass. “Don't get fucking proud about it—shit, Javi, oh, shit!”

Christ, he likes to hear her get mad only to crumble when he fucks her this good. His hand fists her hair again, pulling her back up, flush against his chest, sitting back on his haunches so he can fuck her without mercy. She screams his name and he's never felt so fucking proud in his life. 

“Such a fuckin’ slut for it.” His hand shifts from her belly to her clit. “So mean to the only man who can make you feel better.”

She mewls at the pressure of his fingers against her clit. “Javi… Fuck, it's so good, I—I need your cum. Please,” she whines. “I’ll be nice. I’ll be—”

“Say it.” He's grunting into her ear, unrestrained and wild. “Fucking say it. You want me so bad, then say it.”

“Papi,” she whines, her head falling back onto his shoulder. 

He ruts into her harder, baring his teeth against her jaw. “Louder. Mean it, baby. Gotta mean it.”

A devastating thrust prods against her g-spot and she screams. “¡Papi! Fuck! Ohhhhh, my—”

She holds onto his wrist to ground herself as she gushes around him, moaning long and low and collapsing onto the cushions. 

He does his best to make sure she doesn't hurt herself as her orgasm positively wrecks her, but it's difficult to see through the haze in eyes when he grinds deep and spills his cum inside her, puffing out her name and keeping her ass flush against his hips. He wants all of him to stay inside her and never drip out. It seems impossible with how much he seems to come whenever he's buried in her, but he makes a valiant effort. 

He adjusts their positions so her back is nestled against his chest as they both catch their breath. “Javi,” she says weakly. 

“Yeah, honey?”

“I'm sorry I’m so… pregnant.” 

She sniffles, and it breaks his heart into halves. He hopes she can feel him give her the other piece when he shushes her, nudging her cheek with his nose. “Never,” he murmurs. “Never say that. Think I don’t like you mad as much as I like you happy? Mala.”

He can see the edges of a growing smile, and it makes him grin into her cheek. “I want another baby,” she tells him, toying with the ring on his left hand. 

“Let's get this one out of you,” he says, “and I’ll give you all the babies you want.”

Her eyes flutter shut. “Okay.” 

That's that. 

“Javier.”

Her voice is a whisper in his ear, awakening him from a deep sleep, the kind he can only get when she's this close to him. It's a voice that's too soft, too restrained, to be anything but an attempt to keep him calm. 

It doesn't work. The moment he hears, “My water just broke,” nothing will ease the terror, the excitement, the tremor in his fingers as he helps her out of bed. 

From this moment, his life cleaves in two. Everything after this will change him. 

He doesn't remember what he says to her. She doesn't remember her reply. 

The nurses begin to urge her to push, push, push, and it occurs to them both that this eclipses any words language can give them. 

Love like this isn't tangible. It flees from explanation and cowers behind the wall of reason. It's a love that erupts screaming and writhing into the world, unrestrained, beautiful. 

It's all he can think when he takes her into his arms for the first time. She's beautiful.

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[pablitogavii]

gavi x reader, where he’s all clingy on his birthday and he wants to introduce her to his family like his aunts, uncles and grandparents and she’s so nice to his younger cousins and he’s like falling in love with her all over again bc of how nice she is to everyone, fluff?

Birthday celebration

"I'm so glad everyone could come here for my birthday" Pablo said while you were setting the table at his house in Barcelona smiling when you saw his excited face.

Pablo might be a professional athlete that is already accomplished so much but deep down he is still just a nineteen year old boy excited for his birthday party.

"Me too amor. You look so handsome" you walk up to him fixing his hair a little and he lets you leaning down to kiss your lips when the doorbell rang.

"Guests are here. Go ahead and open amor" you say and he nods rushing to the door in excitement seeing his old childhood friends Mario and Alejandro.

"Welcome guys!" you say hugging them as well smiling when you saw Pablo already opening up resents and thanking them. He was such a cute boy!

"How are you guys? How's Sevilla?" you started the small talk while taking out some drinks and food while Pablo went to open the door again to his family, Aurora and Javi.

"Hola hermanita!" Aurora hugged you first and you smiled hugging her back before Belen joined it kissing your head. His whole family was so sweet to you and your heart melted.

"Mi hija bonita!" Belen said and you blushed seeing Pablo looking at the two of you with a smile on his face.

"What would you like to drink?" you ask and even though Pablo wanted to help you sat him down telling him that he is birthday boy and should enjoy today. Aurora helped you instead.

"Here's your ice tea amor" you put the glass down resting your hands on his strong shoulders while chatting with his parents and Pablo just watched in awe taking one of your hands in his and kissing it.

Doorbell rang again and you leaned in kissing his cheek and whispering "go open up birthday boy" making him smile and do as you said.

"Feliz cumpleaños Pablito!" his abuela walked in with a cake and you smiled when you saw Pablo blushing while walking in with his grandparents into the dining room.

"Puedes darme el pastelseñora, lo pondré en la nevera" [you can give me the cake, and I will put it in the fridge] you say and the lady smiled nodding her head and touching your face gently.

"Tan linda! Será mejor que seas un buen chico, Pablito!" [so beautiful! you better be a good boy Pablito!] she spoke and you smiled nodding your head while walking into the kitchen with the cake.

"Siempre abuela!" Pablo smiled helping them sit down before you brought some refreshments.

"Tu español es tan bueno!" [Your Spanish is so good!] his grandpa said and even Pablo felt so proud that you were willing to learn his language just so you can speak to his family. He was doing the same by learning English and communicating to yours.

"Gracias! Tengo un buen maestro!" [Thank you! I have a good teacher!] you said kissing Pablo's head and he smiled nodding his head proudly saying that you were his best student.

Soon after, Pablo's aunt with her little kids came as well and the boy was very excited to kick ball with their Pablito as they called him. Your heart was filled when you saw Pablo playing with him and just how carefree he felt with his whole family around him.

The little girl always talked about how pretty you are and how she wanted to look like you. She was so cute and you always did her braids whenever she came by so this time was no difference.

"She just always talks about you, querida" Pablo's aunt said and of course Pablo overheard the conversation smiling when he saw how happy his little cousin was sitting on your lap and having ehr hair braided.

He couldn't imagine he finally found someone who is so kind and fits perfectly with his family. There was no doubt in his mind that you were the one.

"Alright, done! Who is ready for the cake!?" you say and both the little girl and boy jumped happily rushing with you towards the kitchen giving Pablo a little break to sit down with the rest of the guests.

"Ella es muy especial Pablito.." [She's very special Pablito..] his grandma said with a smile and Pablo blushed her words meaning so much to him.

"Es una chica tan humilde y amable. ¡Realmente trata bien a nuestro chico y no podríamos estar más felices!" [She's such a humble and kind girl. Really treats our boy right and we couldn't be happier!] his mom added and now Pablo was bright red not really the one to talk much about how he feels.

"Mamá! Ella te escuchará!" [Mom! She'll hear you!] Pablo whined while everyone laughed at his shyness.

"Él es tímido, pero está claro que ella lo hace feliz." [He's just shy but it's clear that she makes him happy.] Javi added and everyone nodded and by that time you were back with the cake singing him a birthday song.

Everyone joined in and when it was done Pablo grabbed your hand closing his eyes to make a wish before blowing his candles and everyone cheered while you moved down to kiss his head.

He stood up as everyone congratulated him once more until he finally came to you holding your waist and pulling you close.

"I had nothing to wish for..I have everything I need right here" he whispered before you both kissed and everyone applauded making you both blush and smile.

"I love you so much..happy birthday cariño!" you say while hugging him happy to have become apart of his family.