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flowersandbigteeth · 1 year

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Hi hope you've had a lovely weekend.

How about a female human who suffers depression and anxiety, is visited by a vampire who initially meant to just drink her blood but ends up showing her that she has worth. he finds as they get very intimate that she's his mate

I like this idea! I have bipolar 1, so I get depressed a lot. The description in this is just how I experience depression, personally.

Vampire (Serge) x female reader with depression

Word Count: 4k

W: kidnapping, some talk of unaliving oneself, non sexual bath, sfw fluff

You splashed a handful of cold water on your face and gazed into the mirror. Your hair was a wreck and you had deep circles under your eyes. Objectively, you looked like shit. Sighing, you stared at your toothbrush. You should be brushing your teeth, getting ready for work, but you felt like complete trash and all you wanted to do was curl back up in bed.

You picked up your phone and dialed your job.

“Hey, Susan,” you said to your boss, “I think I’m coming down with something. I won’t be able to come in today.”

Susan snarled on the other end of the line.

“If you’re going to call out, you need to find someone else to cover your shift,” she snapped.

You groaned, rubbing your eyes.

“Yeah, whatever,” you said, then hung up the phone.

Scrolling through your contact list a few times, wondering who to call, you eventually just gave up. Fuck it. Who cares if I get fired? I hate that job anyway. It wasn’t likely anyone was going to take your shift. They all hated their job as much as you. Fast food jobs were a dime a dozen, if you lost this one, you’d get hired across the street by someone else. You trudged back to your bed and curled up under the covers. In a few minutes you were fast asleep.

You woke with a start. Glancing out the window you could see it was dark outside. You’d slept all day. You checked your phone and there were ten calls from Susan and a string of angry text messages. Not bothering to read them, you tossed your phone on your pillow and dragged your feet to the kitchen. Opening the fridge you found some leftover chinese food one of your roommates had left. You knew he would be pissed you ate his food, but you couldn’t be bothered to care and grabbed the styrofoam box. Having not bought any of your own food for over a week, you had nothing else to eat.

Closing the refrigerator you screamed, tossing the Chinese food in the air and it exploded all over the floor, chicken landing on your bare foot.

“Who the fuck are you?” you gasped at the man standing in front of you.

He wasn’t anyone you recognized, incredibly tall with broad shoulders. His long hair was bone white and his eyes seemed to glow ice blue in the dark kitchen. You took in his beautiful face with utter confusion. You’d never seen someone so beautiful. Was he one of your roommates' friends? You’d thought you were alone in the house. Maybe he was a hookup making an exit, but he was far more handsome than any of your roommates usual partners.

He smiled at you, revealing straight, white teeth framed by pointy fangs, and a hand reached out running two fingers along your jaw.

“Aren’t you a pretty little trinket?” he murmured, his eyes raking over your body. His voice was lilting and deep, his words touched by a slight accent.

Your brow drew and you pulled away from him.

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” you snapped, then, “what’s up with your eyes…and your teeth? Are you a cosplayer?”

It was bizarre that a cosplayer would be in your kitchen at 11 o’clock at night, but you couldn’t come up with any other explanation. He was wearing a long black trench coat, with a loose white shirt underneath. It was only buttoned halfway up his chest, revealing the hard planes of his muscles and a gold necklace. He stared at you for a second before bursting into a roll of laughter.

“I don’t dress up and play pretend,” he said, still chuckling a little and putting a hand in the pocket of his trim slacks.

He leaned casually against the fridge, looking down.

“I’m sorry I spoiled your dinner,” he said, “but it’s only fair, you spoiled mine.”

You frowned at him.

“Was the Chinese food yours?” you asked.

He grinned, his fangs glinting in the low light. Again, he reached out to touch you, this time stroking your cheek.

“No, I had something else in mind,” he purred, his glowing eyes brightening.

“Oh…well sorry,” you grumbled, pulling away. “I guess no dinner for both of us. Make sure you lock the door on your way out.”

You turned on your heels and marched back to your room, intending to text your roommate and ask him to get his hookups to leave when he did. You didn’t like random weirdos lurking around in the dark. You opened the door to your room and screamed again, jumping a foot in the air.

The man stood in front of you, as if he’d materialized like magic.

“How…?” you gasped, your heart pounding, “how did you do that…you were just…”

You stammered, your mind blown. That was impossible. He couldn’t have gotten to your room that fast.

He laughed again, tipping his head to the side to look at you. You blinked your eyes rapidly, wondering if this was some kind depression induced hallucination. Your parents had told you to go to the doctor to get a prescription to help with your mental illness and you’d brushed their recommendations away. Everytime you’d try to pick up the phone and make an appointment, you’d be overcome with anxiety and never manage to make the call. Now you wondered if that had been a big mistake. You were obviously losing it.

You carefully stepped forward, placing your hand on his chest, checking that he was real. He seemed solid enough. You patted his shoulders and then his sharp jaw.

“You’re real,” you murmured, pulling your hands away, “what the fuck?”

You squealed as he grabbed you by the arm, pulling you further into the room and shut the door behind you.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you screamed. “Let me go!”

He sat elegantly on your bed, putting you in his lap.

“I let you touch me. It’s only fair I can touch you,” he informed you.

You tried to scramble out of his lap, but he was inhumanly strong, holding you still while he studied your face.

“What are you?” you hissed.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he asked. “I’m a vampire.”

Your eyes widened at him. He was clearly a nut job. You thought you were crazy, but this home intruder thought he was a vampire! Sure he mysteriously appeared in front of you, but a vampire? You just couldn’t believe it.

“Look if you’re going to murder me to fulfill your weird fantasy, just be quick about it,” you sighed, slumping in his arms. “And delete my browser history before the police come. My password is Pandabear.”

He laughed, before his chuckles died and he frowned at you.

“You’re serious…” he murmured.

You shrugged.

“I don’t have much else going on…” you admitted. “Being killed by a cosplaying psycho will at least be a good story. Maybe I’ll make the news. That’s about all I’ve got to contribute to society.”

His eyebrows lifted and he looked at you thoughtfully.

“How did this happen?” he said softly. “I’ve never met a victim more willing to die.”

Since he all but confirmed he planned on killing you, you squeezed your eyes shut and took a deep breath.

“Okay…I’m ready…do it,” you said, feeling a little relieved.

Finally this miserable life you had would end.

You held your eyes shut for what felt like forever, but when nothing happened you popped one eye open and looked at him. He was smirking, his eerie eyes moving over your face.

“What are you waiting on?” you pouted. “Did you forget your knife or something? We’ve got some in the kitchen.”

His brow drew and he looked at you like you were the crazy person.

“I assure you, trinket, if I wanted to kill you I wouldn’t need a knife,” he said, “but that’s no longer my intention. You’re much too precious to be food.”

Wilting, you sighed. You were so useless a psycho killer didn’t even want to do his thing with you. How pathetic was that?

“Well what do you intend to do with me, then?” you snapped a little offended you weren’t even good enough to murder, though you knew it was to be expected, “and what’s your name anyway?”

He looked at you, running his thumb over your cheek, thinking.

“My name is Serge. First, I’m going to get a snack, then I’m going to get you cleaned up,” he decided. “You haven’t been taking proper care of yourself. We’re going to fix that. No pet of mine will look so…unkempt.”

“Pet?” you repeated, but you didn’t have much time to think about it because suddenly you weren’t and then you were.

In a blink of an eye, you were standing in an alley, somewhere in the city. You lifted one bare foot, wrinkling your nose that your skin was touching god knows what on the ground.

“What the-” you started to say, but the vampire shushed you.

“Quiet, trinket,” he murmured. “You’ll scare off my prey.”

People passed down the larger street and when the vampire found one he liked, you watched him prowl towards the man. He’d dropped something and was bending down to pick it up. When his head rose, he looked at Serge, confused.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

Serge put his arm over his shoulder, pulling his face so their gazes aligned.

“Come with me, handsome,” he purred and the man followed him like a lamb to slaughter into the dark alley.

He pushed him against the cold brick, his nose just barely grazing the man’s neck as if they were lovers. At first you drew your brow thinking you were simply going to watch Serge make out with some random guy, but that misguided thought was quickly corrected.

His mouth opened and the fangs that already looked sharp and pointy to you, got longer and pointier before they sank into his neck. You squeaked, covering your mouth with your hands so you didn’t cry out. He drank and drank, until the man went completely limp and flopped to the ground like a rag doll. Your eyes had to be as wide as dinner plates as you stared at Serge.

“You’re…you’re…a,” you gasped. “You ate him!”

Serge sauntered back to you, licking the red stain from his lips.

“I drank his blood,” he corrected, wrinkling his elegant nose. “Vampires do not eat flesh like filthy wolves.”

He let out a satisfied sigh.

“Now that I’m feeling full,” he said, looking down at you. “It’s time to get you clean.”

You turned to run, instinctively, but it was no use. Serge scooped you up in his arms and disappeared you again.

When you blinked this time, you were in a pretty bathroom. It was all white with a large claw foot tub in the middle of the room. The cabinets and sinks had a vintage look to them and fresh flowers were arranged on a couple of side tables. You’d never been in a room so expensive looking, even at a hotel.

Serge set you on a plush chair and pulled off his heavy coat, before rolling up his sleeves and setting to work on filling the bathtub. You couldn’t help glancing at his perfect ass as he bent over to add soap and some kind of fragrant salt to the water. It was impossible not to tremble in his presence. He filled up so much space with his broad body and confident personality, but of course he was confident, he was a predator and you were just prey.

When he seemed satisfied he turned to you, looking you up and down.

“Strip,” he ordered and your cheeks burned.

“Can you give me some privacy?” you asked and he let out a little bark of a laugh, approaching you with determined, even steps.

“I don’t ask for anything twice,” he informed you, jerking your shirt over your head. “It’s best you learn that now.”

You scrambled to hold onto your pajama pants, but you were laughably weak compared to his strong, ivory fingers. He snatched them off of you easily, along with the panties you were wearing. Your heart stuttered in your chest as he looked you over, though he didn’t leer. His look was pure appreciation, as though you were some pretty piece of art.

He picked you up and deposited you gently in the warm bath water.

“Under my roof you will bathe every day,” he said, applying soap to a soft loofah and picking your arm up out of the water and scrubbing it clean.

“I can do it myself,” you hissed, trying to steal the loofah from him, but he held it above his head so you couldn’t reach.

“You haven’t been,” he challenged. “If you could do it yourself, you would have. I will do it for you since it seems you can’t.”

You had to admit he was right. Gathering the energy to take care of yourself felt like an impossible task. He continued scrubbing you, your arms first and then your legs.

“I’m just depressed,” you mumbled as he focused on his task. He examined each part of you like he was memorizing every freckle and scar.

“Sometimes it’s hard to get the energy to do anything.”

His blue eyes flicked up to yours and a small smile played on his lips.

“Then I’ll have plenty of opportunities to clean you,” he said, then his lips twisted in thought. “We’ll have to do something about your depression. I take very good care of my possessions. Whenever you have a problem we will address it promptly, do you understand?”

You narrowed your eyes at him.

“Why are you doing all this if you aren’t going to eat me?” you asked.

It made no sense. You were just normal, boring you. Most days you couldn't even get out of bed and when you did manage to rally and get dressed you hardly even brushed your teeth. Why would a beautiful vampire want anything from you? Why would he lower himself to bother to meticulously clean you by hand?

“Because you’re mine,” he answered without looking up.

When he’d managed to clean your front and back, he grabbed a small pouch filled with nail tools from one of the cabinets and set to cleaning your nails. He diligently trimmed and shaped each one, humming to himself a tune that sounded ancient. You’d never been so pampered in your life. By the time he got to washing and detangling your hair, you were practically melting into his hands. Happy with his work he scooped you out of the bath and wrapped you in a fluffy towel, scooting you towards the sink and unwrapping a fresh toothbrush he pulled from the cabinet drawer.

“Do I have to do this part for you?” he asked, raising a questioning eyebrow.

Your ears burning, you grabbed the toothbrush from his hand and got to work under his careful supervision. You knew it was silly to have someone watching you brush your teeth, but there was also a bit of relief there. Most days it was so hard to build yourself up to do anything. Though you were apprehensive, Serge’s careful coaxing made it a little easier.

When he was happy you were as clean and neat as you could possibly be you were shuffled into a large bedroom. You jumped, finding another person standing there. He was very handsome, though not quite as striking as Serge, with silver, almost blue hair and dark eyes.

“Good evening, Master,” he said, then looked at you. “Miss.”

Serg let out an audible growl.

“Do not raise your eyes to her,” he snapped and his servant immediately looked down.

“This is Jules,” he said, waving generally in the man’s direction. “If you need anything you can ask him, but I’d rather you ask me.”

You looked up at Serge and drew your brow.

“I’m confused as to what is happening here,” you said. “You say I’m yours, but…I don’t know what that means. You kidnapped me from my home…You have someone waiting on me…I don’t understand.”

He gave you a patient smile, tipping his head to the side and running his fingertip over your collarbone, making you shudder.

“You,” he said, poking your nose, “are to be my little mate, trinket.”

You blinked at him, still confused.

“Like…pals?” you asked and he erupted into laughter.

“You’ll understand soon enough,” he said between chuckles, but did not elaborate.

Instead his eyes grew sharp and he looked at Jules.

“Bring my mate clothes befitting her station,” he said and Jules gave a curt nod before disappearing.

You let out a little gasp that he disappeared so abruptly.

“He’s a vampire, too?” you asked.

Serge nodded.

“Everyone here is a vampire,” he said, placing you on the bed and placing a chaste kiss on your forehead, “but there’s no reason to be frightened. I’m their sire. They cannot harm you.”

He rolled up his sleeve and to your horror bit his own wrist until his blood flowed, holding it out to you.

“Drink,” he said as it dripped slowly onto the towel you were wrapped in.

You looked up at him in horror.

“But…I can’t-”

You never finished your sentence, because he pressed his wrist to your lips and rubbed your throat like he was force feeding a stray puppy it’s medicine so you would swallow. It wasn’t that it tasted bad. It was a coppery and a bit sweet, but it was blood!

When he pulled away, he licked the spot on his wrist and the wound closed. Then he licked the bit of blood that was dribbling down your cheek. Your skin heated at the intimate contact and your breath felt short in your lungs.

“Wh-why?” you stammered.

He carried you to the little vanity in the room, seating you at the chair.

“My blood is good for you,” he said and looking at yourself, you let out a little peep.

Your cheeks, which had been hollow from being too tired to eat, were suddenly plump and glowing with a dewy radiance. The dark rings under your eyes were gone and replaced with supple skin. Even your hair appeared thicker and shinier. Still you were frightened.

“Am- Am I going to become a vampire?” you asked.

He shook his head, twirling a bit of your hair around his finger.

“No, not yet,” he said. “But my blood has restorative properties. It will also help even out your brain chemicals until we can have you seen by a proper human doctor.”

Your eyebrows flew up. Vampire blood helped with depression? And what did he mean by not yet? Despite your misgivings, you did feel a bit energized, though whether it was because of his blood or adrenaline you couldn’t tell.

He stood behind you, his hands resting on your shoulders.

“Look at yourself,” he said, his voice reverent. “Look how beautiful you are.”

You squinted at yourself. Yes, Serge’s blood had given you a nice facial treatment, but you wouldn’t consider yourself beautiful.

“I’m…not though,” you whispered, your eyes getting a bit misty.

He frowned at you, suddenly at your side, jerking your face to look at him with a strong hand.

“Repeat after me,” he snarled. “I am beautiful.”

You paused for a moment, having a difficult time getting the words out.

“Since we’ve only just met, I’ll grant you some leniency, but remember if I have to ask twice you will not like your punishment. I’ll count to three,” he hissed, his icy blue eyes boring into you.

“One.”

You licked your lips, trying to will the words to come.

“Two.”

Your top teeth snagged your bottom lip, preventing you from speaking.

“Thre-”

“I’m beautiful!” you blurted out.

He smiled at you, his face pure predator.

“A wise choice, trinket,” he said. “You’ll tell me how beautiful you are before bed, every day until you believe it.”

His fingers on your cheek loosened and he cupped the curve of your face, leaning forward to breathe in the scent of soap on your skin.

“Of all the many treasures I have, you are the most precious,” he murmured into your neck.

Lightning bolts shot down your spine, making the ends of your nerves sparkle like the fourth of July.

“But…but…you don’t know me,” you stammered. “You don’t even know my name.”

He chuckled against your neck, placing a kiss on the place where it joined your shoulder.

“I’ve lived a very long life,” he said. “I know a good thing when I see it. We will have lots of time to get to know one another. For now just know that you are my little mate and you are safe under my wing. You’ll have all the luxuries you deserve. I’m going to teach you to be spoiled and insufferably self-assured.”

You were frozen under his touch, not sure if he was playing some kind of game with you. On what planet did a fatally handsome vampire make you his…mate? What did that even mean?

He suddenly scooped you up in his arms, making you squeak.

“You don’t believe me, stubborn little trinket,” he said. “Come, tell me what your mother christened you.”

“(Y/N),” you said quietly.

He looked down at you like a hungry cat.

“A perfect name for a perfect creature,” he mused, then looked up, marching out of the room. “Let’s start the spoiling with a proper meal. What’s your favorite restaurant? I’ll wake up the owner and the chef so they can cook you something special.”

“That’s ludicrous, Serge,” you gasped, but he only glared at you.

You remembered that he didn’t like to have to ask twice, so you hurriedly came up with an answer.

“Well…there’s this place I always wanted to go, but never had the money,” you admitted.

His face softened as he carried you down a sweeping, curved staircase.

“Come on…out with it,” he urged you.

“It’s called Say Cheese, it’s a grilled cheese bar,” you said. “They make twenty different kinds of grilled cheeses.”

He raised an eyebrow at you, before bursting into laughter.

“If my sweet trinket wants grilled cheese, that’s what you will get,” he said.

Your cheeks heated but you diffidently laid your head against his chest, surrendering to your fate.

#vampire x reader #vampire x human #vampire fluff #monster x reader #monster x human #monster fluff #yandere x reader #yandere x female reader #yandere fluff #male yandere #x reader #sfw monster fluff #sfw fluff

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wheresarizona · 8 months

Text

Learning to Live Part 25

summary: Javier is taking you on a trip to Miami to meet the Murphys, and baby fever hits hard when you see each other interacting with their small children.

rating: E (18+! No y/n, alternating POV, age gap (about ten years), explicit smut, chair sex, unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), creampie, anal play (f receiving), kinda double penetration, masturbation (m), sneaking around (you don’t want the Murphys to hear you), baby fever, (MASSIVE) breeding kink, dirty talk, spanking, (1) Papí, spit as lube, traveling, Javier being really cute with children, Javier losing his mind at seeing you with children, Steve giving Javier so much shit, Steve trying to keep you from fucking in the guest room and you two doing it anyway, grumpy Javier, feelings of insecurity/body insecurity (and Javier making you feel better), pregnancy discussion/talks of the future)

pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader

word count: 18.2k+

a/n: Happy Halloween! This is my treat to you for Halloween and the end of Kinktober. I hope you enjoy! This Miami arc is either going to be two or three chapters long. Thank you to the lovely @senorabond for betaing! And also, thank you to @juletheghoul for ensuring my Spanish makes sense!

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to know what you thought!

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Javier’s cell phone only rang for four reasons: his dad was calling, you were calling, it was one of the Murphys; Steve for their regularly scheduled Thursday chat, or Olivia wanting to talk to her tío and sometimes needing help with her Spanish homework. Last, and the phone calls he always ignored outside of business hours, were from his office.

The first time your boyfriend took a call while he was with you, you’d barely been dating a week.

While the two of you were cuddling on the couch on a Monday, watching some movie you couldn't even remember the name of because your brain at the time was focusing on getting naked instead of actually watching it, his phone on the coffee table in front of you started ringing. He apologized when he picked it up to check the caller ID and apologized again when he told you he had to answer it since it was his niece and got up from the couch.

It should’ve been an endearing moment, but your confusion had overshadowed it because you knew he had no siblings. You could admit it was pretty cute overhearing him in the kitchen talking to her in the sweetest voice he clearly saved for children, asking about how her summer was going.

After he hung up and returned to you, he’d explained: she was his best friend, Steve’s daughter, and he was her godfather, a role he took very seriously by being the best uncle to her and her younger brothers.

That was many months ago, and with today being Friday and Javi’s phone ringing on his bedside table in your shared bedroom, you had a feeling it was Olivia since he talked to his dad on his way home—the problem, though: your boyfriend was in the shower.

This seemed like an order-in kind of night, with it being the end of the week and you both wanting to relax. You’d just set the bag of Chinese food on the coffee table when you heard his phone going off. In less than thirty seconds, you had it in hand, the caller ID reading ‘Murphys,’ which was their landline, and confirmed your suspicion. Stepping inside the bathroom, the sounds of water roaring and splashing in the shower stall and the overhead fan humming greeted you; the large mirror over the sink was fogged up, steam permeating the air.

“Babe?” you said loud enough for him to hear.

The frosted glass door rolled open enough for Javi to stick out his head, his hair lathered in shampoo.

“Yeah?”

“Olivia’s calling.” You held up the ringing phone.

“Can you answer it and tell her I’ll call her back later?”

Now, Steve and his family were well aware of who you were, and you knew all about them, but you’ve never spoken to any of them. So this request had a nervous flutter erupting in your belly.

“Yeah,” you answered. “I can do that.”

A swoon-worthy smile appeared on his face. “Thanks, mi amor (my love).”

Immediately, you clicked the answer button, putting the phone up to your ear as you said, “Javi’s phone,” before making your way back into the bedroom and shutting the bathroom door behind you.

“You’re not Javi…” said a deep male voice that had your eyes going wide.

“You’re not Olivia…”

There was amusement in his tone, not expecting the smooth southern drawl. “No, I’m not. I’m her father, Steve Murphy, and you must be the woman my best friend is madly in love with.”

With a smile, you replied, “That’s me,” and introduced yourself.

“It’s nice to finally meet you—well, talk to you, at least. I gotta say I don’t think I’ve ever seen Javi this happy in all the time I’ve known him. You’ve been real good for him, and I’m glad he finally found someone who can put up with his grumpy ass.”

Warmth spread through your chest, his last comment making you giggle.

“You wanna know a secret?” you whispered.

“Yeah?”

“When he’s with me, he’s not grumpy. He smiles a lot and laughs. He’s really adorable, to be honest.”

“I don’t know if I’d call him adorable, but he’s like that with my kids, too.”

“Oh, Javi with kids is my kryptonite—he’s so good with them.”

“Let me tell you, when I came home to Miami after getting Escobar, he stayed with us for a while, and it shocked me how good he was with Olivia.” That didn’t surprise you. He’d grown up with practically all his cousins being younger than him, and he has a lot of them. “I don’t know if he told you, but not too long after he quit the DEA, he lived with us for a bit ‘cause he was having a hard time being in Laredo—from what I understand, there are some people there who aren’t too kind to him.”

“That’s an understatement, but yes.”

Javi staying in Miami for a time was something you were aware of.

Being back in Laredo had been hard for him, like Steve said, and he was known to run from his problems, so he went and lived with the Murphys for almost a year in their guest room. Then, one day, his dad called and told him not to worry, but doctors were running some tests after finding a mass on his liver that could possibly be cancerous. Javier’s mother, Antonia, died from breast cancer that wasn’t caught in time, so when he got off the phone, he packed his bags and was on the first flight home.

It was the kick in his ass he needed to realize his dad was all he had left and was worth braving his hometown. Chucho’s mass was benign, and Javi annoyed the fuck out of him his first month back by being a mother hen and fussing over him nonstop.

“Well,” Steve continued, “he came and lived with us and was a huge help with Olivia and Stevie. He was a natural with them—they love Javi more than their actual uncles.”

A grin was on your face, loving to hear that he’d done so well helping them with their children. “And he loves them like they’re his biological niece and nephews.”

“He really does.” There was fondness in his tone. “You know, when we were in Colombia, all the guys we worked with thought he was a giant asshole since he didn’t put up with their shit—I was his partner, and I thought he was a giant asshole, but all the women in the office seemed to love him because he was sweet to them. Your man only lightens up for women and children ‘cause I sure as hell did not have a partner who smiled and laughed a lot. Like, I’m looking at this holiday card y’all sent, and I barely recognize him with that big ‘ol grin.”

The holiday cards had been your idea.

Chucho did the photo shoot, and the picture you both chose had Javi and you in matching outfits of red sweaters and jeans, with him holding you from behind as you both smiled at the camera. Daphne and Velma, the seven-month-old calves you lovingly called your bovine children, were on either side of you wearing fake antlers, all of you in front of the red wooden barn, the bottom of the card reading, ‘Happy holidays from us to you,’ typed in a fancy script.

It was very cute.

It delighted you people were finally getting them, now wondering when you’d get that disapproving call from your mother. You knew it was looming on the horizon when your parents finally got theirs.

“It’s nice, though, right?” You chewed on your lip.

“Oh, it’s more than nice—it’s fuckin’ great! That man has been to hell and back, and it’s about damn time he finally gets to be happy and relax for once. Which reminds me why I called—were you guys able to get that time off next week?”

The two of you hoped to go to Miami the following week; there were just some issues with you getting days off.

“Yes! Javi was going to call you tonight. We can do Thursday through Saturday, but we need to be home Sunday for his birthday because we’re celebrating with his dad.”

“That’s fine! We’re just happy you can come! Excuse me, ma’am, Connie just came in the room and has a question for me,” It sounded like Steve covered the phone, hearing his muffled voice say, “Yes, baby, they’re coming… Thursday through Saturday, they need to be home for Javi’s birthday Sunday… It’s not Javi, it’s his girlfriend… She’s great… You know Javi, he doesn’t want a fuc-flipping birthday party… Fine, I’ll ask her.” Now you could hear him clearly. “My apologies, ma’am. My wife wants to know if you’d like us to throw Javi a birthday party?”

“Oh, you guys are already letting us stay with you. I couldn’t ask you to throw a party.”

“Okay.” He spoke to his wife. “She says that’d be too much since they’re staying with us.”

Noise sounded over the line like the phone was being passed, followed by a woman’s voice now speaking, “Hi, is this Javi’s girlfriend?”

“Yes,” you replied, giving her your name. “Is this Connie?” A baby was babbling in the background, and you thought she might be holding their youngest child.

“It is! It’s so nice to meet you! I can’t wait for you to visit next week.”

“I can’t wait either! I’ve heard so much about all of you, and I’m excited.”

“We’re just as excited! Now, it’d be no problem throwing Javi a little party, and the kids would love to celebrate with him. I mean, they love any excuse to eat cake.”

Giggling, you replied, “Well, we can’t deny the kids cake. If you insist, I’m sure Javi would be touched by the gesture.”

“Great! We’re going to have such a wonderful time. Javi’s told us how much you love the beach, so we’ll have to spend a day there, and I need to go grocery shopping. Is there anything you want to eat while here?”

You were hoping to go to the beach, and happy she mentioned it.

“I can’t think of anything. I’m not picky.”

“If you think of something, just give me a call. We want you to have a great trip.”

“I know it’s going to be amazing,” you said truthfully.

“I hope so! Okay, Steve wants the phone back. Nice to meet you, bye!”

“Nice meeting you, too!”

“It’s me again.” Steve was back on. “Are you guys going to need a ride from the airport?”

The bathroom door opened, and you looked over your shoulder to see Javi coming out in just a white towel wrapped around his waist, his hair blow-dried and styled.

“I don’t know…?” you distractedly answered. With you going on the trip soon, you had been refraining from sucking marks into his skin to avoid any awkward conversations with the Murphy kids. Still, there were fading hickies your eyes took in as they moved down his torso to the tantalizing trail of hair that disappeared beneath the cotton.

With the fan on in the bathroom, he could hear Cielito on the phone; however, he was unable to make out anything she was saying, thinking she might be talking to Robyn or one of his family members. He walked into the room, and she looked over her shoulder at him, his chest puffing out a little at how she was checking him out.

“Who are you talking to?” he whispered.

Her gaze snapped up to meet his. “Steve,” she answered just as quietly.

That had him taken aback since he was pretty sure his best friend and wif-girlfriend had never spoken before. Was it Steve who called and not Olivia? Has she been on the phone with him this entire time?

What were they talking about?

“What does he want?” Javier asked.

“I’m sorry, Steve,” she said to the other man. “Javi’s here, so give me a sec.” She turned in place to face him, covering the speaker. “He called to find out if we could visit next week—which I told him yes, but he just asked if we’ll need a ride from the airport, and I don’t know the answer.”

Immediately, he held out his hand.

She uncovered the phone, talking to his friend again, “Steve, Javi wants to talk to you.” A big smile was on her face. “It was nice talking to you, too… Oh goodness, that’s so sweet… He makes me happy, too. Like super happy.” She shielded her mouth so Javier couldn’t see it, her eyes locked on his, while she whispered in a conspiratorial tone, “Don’t tell him I said this, but he’s an amazing boyfriend and so goddamn dreamy. Literally, the best partner I’ve ever had, and I cannot wait to marry him, so he’s mine forever.” What she said made him smile, and his heart skip a beat. Steve must’ve said something funny because she laughed. “Bye, Steve.” She passed the phone to him.

“Hey,” Javier said, with the cell phone pressed to his ear.

“Hey, Jav. Your girlfriend’s great, and we can’t wait to meet her.”

After his last relationship with Lorraine, and how he missed the red flags and ignored his mother’s warnings about her, having his family love the woman standing in front of him, and now Steve also liking her, it reassured him he was making the right choice for who he was going to marry—not that he had any doubts. Javier knew for a fact she was the one he was spending the rest of his life with. It just made him feel great that others could see how amazing she was.

“Yeah, she’s fucking incredible.”

“You’ve got it so bad for her.” Steve chuckled. “I got your holiday card, and I couldn’t believe my fucking eyes—the way you’re smiling, the matching outfits, and the dressed-up cows—”

“Daphne and Velma,” Javier interrupted.

The girls behaved well for the photoshoot—with the help of many treats and pets. He loved how the card turned out and was beyond happy Cielito even wanted to do something like that with him. It made him think of the future and the cards featuring the additions of tiny Peñas and seeing their family grow with each holiday season—showing their friends and relatives how their family had grown. Not that he loved the idea of rubbing their happiness in her parents’ faces or anything…

“These are your—what do you call them? Your bovine children?” He’d mentioned the calves on previous calls.

“Yeah,” he answered. “The red one is Daphne, and the other is Velma.”

“Okay, I’ll admit they’re pretty cute.”

“They are. So anyway, we don’t need you to pick us up,” he said, getting back on topic. “I’m gonna rent a car like I always do.”

“Sounds good.”

He turned away from his future fiancée as he spoke a little quieter, “Did you say anything embarrassing about me?”

His question made his best friend laugh, and he frowned. “You’ve got nothing to worry about, Javi. We talked about how great you are with my kids and that you’re only nice to women and children.”

That didn’t sound too bad.

He whispered, “How’d she react about me being great with the kids?”

Steve laughed again. “Positively. A direct quote is, ‘Javi with kids is my kryptonite.’”

Javier smiled. “Good. Tell mis sobrinos (my niece and nephews) I need them to be extra cute when we visit.”

“Will do. Speaking of the kids, Connie needs my help, so I gotta go.”

“Give them all my love, and I’ll see you next week.”

“I will. Bye, you asshole.”

“Adiós, pendejo (Goodbye, asshole).” He clicked the end call button, walking over to set the phone back on his bedside table.

“You’re a dork,” she said.

Turning toward her, amusement was clear on her face.

“Why am I a dork?” he asked, taking a few steps to stand in front of her.

“Asking my reaction to how good you are with his kids.”

His hands went up to cradle her face. “He said I was great with his kids.”

“Yeah, he did, and he said you were a natural with them.” Her eyes had darkened, her fingers dipping into the top of the towel at his waist as she bit her bottom lip—she was turned on, and it made him smirk, his cock beginning to harden.

“You like that?” he asked, leaning forward until his mouth was a hair's breadth away from hers, her eyes closing. “You like that if I got you pregnant, I’d be great with our baby?”

“Yes,” she breathed.

This was the moment his brain decided to remind him he needed to book everything for their trip right away.

His eyes squeezed shut, taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out as he pressed his forehead to hers.

“I’m sorry, Cielito,” he sounded pained. “We can’t fool around right now. I’ve got shit I need to do.”

“But we were about to have really kinky sex,” she groaned.

“I’ll make it up to you after I get all our stuff booked and we eat dinner.” He sweetly kissed her. “Anything you want,” he said when he broke away, looking her in the eyes. “Anything.”

“Okay. That’s acceptable. I both love and hate that you’re a responsible adult.” She pouted. “Use my credit card and book us in business class since it’s two seats in a row. That way, we won’t have to worry about anyone sitting with us.”

He smiled. “Yeah, I didn’t want anyone sitting with us either and planned on booking business—maybe first, depending on the price.”

“Meh, stick with business.”

“Okay. Window or aisle?”

“Window.”

“Good, ‘cause I like the aisle.”

That made her grin. “It’s like we’re meant to be or something. Next, you’re gonna tell me I can have your peanuts.”

“Oh, yeah, I never eat them. I usually just have a drink.”

Whiskey on the rocks.

“We’re soulmates.”

“We are.” He agreed with a nod.

“Ugh.” She stepped away from him, and his mouth turned down, his hands falling. “You’re basically naked, and I want to jump your bones. Put on some clothes, you saucy temptress.” Her head turned, shielding her eyes with her hand.

“Saucy temptress?” he chuckled, walking so close as he passed her their arms brushed, heading toward his dresser.

“You heard me—seducing me with your manly wiles and, god, your rockin’ bod. Okay, I’m going to the living room because you are so close to getting your dick sucked.” He opened a drawer, pulling out his sweatpants. “You know,” she said, still standing in the same spot but shuffling to face him. “You’re gonna be on the phone, right?” The towel dropped to the floor as he pulled on the pants.

“Yeah,” he answered.

“So, I mean, while you’re talking, theoretically, I could suck your dick while you’re doing it.”

He sucked in a breath, his half-hard cock twitching at the thought.

“You’re the saucy temptress,” he rasped, bending down with a groan to grab his towel and moving to toss it in the nearby dirty clothes hamper. “No, mi amor (my love), that’s how I end up accidentally booking us on a flight to fucking Australia or some shit.”

“You’re no fun.” She was pouting again, looking adorable.

“But I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

The Laredo Airport wasn’t very big.

Built by the U.S. Government during World War II, it was used by the United States Air Force, then during the Cold War, it was a pilot training base. With the defense cutbacks after the Vietnam War, the military presence ended by the tail end of 1973, with commercial air service not arriving until the summer of 1975.

The commercial air service? It would take you to exotic destinations, like Dallas/Fort Worth and Houston-Intercontinental. Basically, you flew from Laredo’s tiny airport to one of the larger Texan airports and, from there, headed to your desired location.

This is how you ended up on a flight from Dallas/Fort Worth International Airport at 8:45 AM on a Thursday morning in December.

The trip would only be three days long, so you both packed carry-ons that Javi insisted he carry, or roll, for your suitcase; he brought a leather duffle bag for himself. He safely stored the luggage in the overhead compartment, and you had seated yourself by the window and buckled in, your boyfriend beside you in the only other seat in your row.

For a comfortable flight, you wore leggings, an oversized T-shirt, and tennis shoes. Javier? The man refused to look anything but his best out in public, so he was in his usual tight-ass jeans, a white button-up with a blue patterned design, and his black leather jacket—to go to Miami, where the weather was hot and, from what you were told, humid.

The things he did in the name of being the sexiest man alive.

Your leg was bouncing, your shoulders tense, chewing on your thumb.

Warm fingers laced with those of your free hand, Javi gently squeezing it.

“You a nervous flyer?” he whispered.

Turning your head toward him, you answered, “Little bit. It’s mostly take-off and landing. Once we’re in the air, I’m fine.”

“Yeah? How can I help?”

“I don’t know. Talk to me? Are you a nervous flyer?”

A little smile was on his lips, barely shaking his head. “No. I’m used to it with all the traveling I did for work. I will say I prefer planes over helicopters, though.”

The last of the passengers were boarding, but you aren’t paying any of them mind, in your little bubble with Javi.

“Did you fly in helicopters a lot?”

“Thankfully, no. We used them mostly when we needed to go out into the jungle, which I always fucking hated.”

“The helicopter ride or the jungle?”

“Both. It’s hot in there, and the animals. I, uh, don’t like snakes…”

His answer made you smile as you replied, “That’s very Indiana Jones of you.” A thought came to you. “Oh! Would you wear a fedora if I got you one?”

His eyes squinted. “No...”

The pilot came over the speaker.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome onboard Flight AA319 with service from Dallas/Fort Worth to Miami. We are currently second in line for take-off and should be in the air in approximately ten minutes. We ask that you please fasten your seatbelts at this time and secure all baggage underneath your seat or in the overhead compartments. We also ask that your seats and table trays are in the upright position for take-off. Please turn off all personal electronic devices, including laptops and cell phones. Smoking is prohibited for the duration of the flight. Thank you for flying American Airlines. We hope you enjoy your flight.”

You frowned at Javi, going back to your conversation. “But you’ve got the leather jacket—” You patted it over his pec. “—and the button up, that we can sluttily unbutton to show some skin, and we’ll get you a pair of khaki pants.”

His eyes remained narrowed. “Why do you always want me to dress up as characters played by that guy—what’s his name? Harry Ford?”

“Harrison Ford, and it’s not my fault he’s played some iconic characters that you’d look hot dressed up as—don’t lie to me and say you wouldn’t enjoy dressing up as Han Solo. You think he’s the coolest guy.”

He was frowning now. “Han’s okay, but Boba Fett’s cooler.” He shrugged.

Your eyebrow rose. “Do you want me to get you some Boba Fett armor so you can pretend to be a space bounty hunter, and we can make it horny and have you hunt me down?”

The wheels were turning in his head, and he seemed to be thinking it over, which made you giggle.

“It’d be too uncomfortable,” he finally answered. “And I wouldn’t be able to see shit in the helmet. If I’m gonna dress up as a Star Wars character, I’ll stick with Han.”

“Smart man.”

Javi kept talking to you about nothing important to keep you distracted as the plane started moving, only pausing when the flight attendants went over the safety briefing.

What you didn’t expect was right before take-off, he kissed you, and not a chaste kiss but a toe-curling, forgot-how-to-think, skin-heating, breath-stealing, tongue-tangling kiss that had you so caught up in him, you didn’t even notice the plane had left the ground, or rose thousands of feet into the sky.

When you finally broke away for air, you felt dazed; your eyes had closed, panting breaths and smiling. Arousal swirled in your belly and dripped into your panties, feeling the cotton dampened and sticking to your skin.

“Still feeling nervous?” he asked, kissing your chin.

“God, no.” You replied breathily. “Feeling horny.”

A ding sounded, the light showing ‘seat belts needed to be fastened’ turning off, a flight attendant announcing, “Ladies and gentlemen, the Captain has turned off the fasten seat belt sign, and you may now move around the cabin.”

“Javi?” Your eyes opened.

“Yes, Cielito?”

Leaning close to press your lips to his ear, you quietly asked, “Have you ever joined the mile-high club?”

He audibly gulped. “No.”

“Would you like to?” His jacket was unzipped, and you walked your fingers over the skin on his chest, revealed by the top few buttons being undone, his aviators hanging in the dip.

“Hold on.” Suddenly, his seatbelt was clicking open, and he was rising, keeping his head ducked until he was in the aisle, hastening toward the front of the plane. Watching curiously, he opened a lavatory door and went inside, coming out a minute later, a grumpy look on his perfect face as he made his way back to you and sat down beside you with a grunt.

“It’s too fucking small,” he said, turning his torso to face you. “And I think we’d get caught if we tried.” He looked so disappointed, and the news made you sigh.

“It’s good one of us is a responsible adult making the right decisions.”

Leaning closer, he whispered, “I can get a blanket from the flight attendant and finger you under it if you really want to get off while we’re flying.”

The idea caused your cunt to clench hard around nothing.

“That sounds so good, but I’d want us both to get off. Guess we’re just gonna have to fuck when we go to bed tonight, and you’ll have to keep me quiet.” Your hand rubbed along his thigh, his eyes darkening.

“I love you so fucking much,” he rasped.

“I love you, too.”

“Steve would hate us fucking in the guest room.”

“That just makes you want to do it more, doesn’t it?”

“Oh, yeah.” He smirked.

“You’re such an asshole to him,” you giggled.

“He deserves it,” he replied, closing what little distance was between you to kiss your lips.

The flight was barely three hours long, which you spent reading the small book stashed in your purse, your boyfriend beside you with his reading glasses on, his big hand holding his own book you’d kept for him.

When the flight attendant came down the aisle with the drink cart and snacks, Javi got a whiskey, while you got ginger ale and both bags of peanuts.

The books were put away when it was time to land, and he held your hand tight while the other caressed your face as he distracted you with another mind-blowing kiss—you’d never enjoyed taking off and landing so much.

Off the plane, Javi had the bags—carrying his duffle by the handles and rolling your luggage through the airport to the rental car agency. You took his bag when you got to the counter so he could fish his wallet out of his back pocket, passing the employee his driver’s license with you standing beside him.

The dark-haired man on the other side was smiling as he read the card and started inputting the information into a computer, his name tag reading Martin and beneath it, ‘Hablo Español.’

“Welcome to Miami, Mr. and Mrs. Peña!” Martin said, his words heavily accented. Your eyes rounded, Javi’s arm wrapping around your waist to pull you into him. “I hope you had a pleasant trip!”

“It wasn’t too bad,” your future husband replied. “Right, Mrs. Peña?” He was smirking when he turned his head toward you, looking beyond delighted.

“Right, Mr. Peña,” you answered with a smile, getting closer to him by hooking your arm around his middle, resting your head against his chest. “The flight was pretty great.”

“Awe,” Martin replied. “Newlyweds, no? Here on your honeymoon?” He glanced up from what he was doing.

“Something like that,” Javi responded, kissing your hair.

The conversation transitioned to business, with your boyfriend having to sign a lot of paperwork before he handed you a small stapled stack and the employee directed you where to go to get the car, which involved getting on a shuttle bus.

The sun was shining down from the clear blue sky, the temperature hot and humid, Javi having to take off his leather jacket. You were more than happy to carry it along with the papers for the car while he took care of lugging around the bags when they dropped you off at the car lot. A stop had to be made in a small, blissfully air-conditioned building to get the keys and have someone take you to where the vehicle was parked. You would think for such a short trip and the small amount of stuff you had, he would’ve rented a full-size sedan at most—nope, Javi rented an SUV, a brand new forest green ‘98 Ford Explorer, to be exact.

His aviators were on, leaving you with the bags on the ground at your feet. At the same time, he meticulously inspected the SUV’s exterior for any scratches or dings that needed to be reported so they weren’t blamed on you, rubbing his thumb over some spots.

Sometimes—well, a lot of the time when you were out in public—he had an intimidating aura about him, ‘just don’t fuck with me’ vibes wafting off of him with the grumpy expression on his face and how confidently he moved about. It came in handy when you were in crowded places because people stayed out of his way and didn’t bother you—instead of scary dog privilege, you had scary boyfriend privilege. An issue with scary boyfriend privilege: he was making the rental car agency worker extremely nervous, the poor man holding his clipboard and sweating profusely, which you didn’t think had anything to do with the weather.

He was standing by you as Javi did his thing, shorter than your boyfriend with light skin, brown hair, and if you squinted, he kind of looked like Tom Hanks in Sleepless in Seattle—same hairstyle, same forehead.

“He’s a teddy bear,” you whispered to the employee.

There was confusion on his face when he looked at you. “What?” he asked.

“Javi—” You nodded in the direction of the man, who was crouched at the passenger side door and using his thumb to see if a mark was dirt or a scratch. “—he’s a teddy bear. It’s just how his resting face looks. Watch this.” You called out to Javi, “Find anything, baby?”

“No,” he answered, grunting as he rose to stand. His hands were on his hips as he gave the side of the vehicle another look over.

“I love you,” you told him.

His head turned in your direction, giving you a beaming smile. “I love you, too, mi amor (my love).”

He looked back at the SUV, and you said quietly out of the corner of your mouth, “See.”

“I didn’t notice anything,” Javi told the employee, heading your way and wiping his hands on his jeans.

“That’s great, sir,” the worker replied. “I just need you to sign here.” He pointed at a place on the paper clipped to his clipboard with the pen he showed your boyfriend. Javi was quickly signing and taking the offered keys.

“Thank you,” your boyfriend said, shaking the other man’s hand.

“No problem. If you have any issues, just give us a call.”

“Sounds good.”

The employee went away.

The vehicle was already unlocked, so Javi walked over to the front passenger-side door. “Let me get your door, Mrs. Peña,” he said as he opened it.

It made you giggle, moving his way with his jacket and the paperwork still held in your arms and hand, avoiding the bags on the ground. “That really made your day, didn’t it?” you asked, leaning in to kiss him when you were in front of him.

“Yes, Mrs. Peña,” he murmured against your lips, feeling him smile. One of his hands was on the top of the door with the keys tucked in his palm, his other grabbing a handful of your ass.

“You’re adorable, Mr. Peña.” Breaking away, you continued, “Give me the keys so I can get the AC going.” There was a grin under his perfectly trimmed mustache as he dangled the keys in front of your face, and you maneuvered the stuff in your arms to free up a hand to grab them—he pulled them away before the tips of your fingers even touched the metal.

You glared at him when he said, “Ask nicely for them this time.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Inhaling deeply, you let the air leave your nose in a huff. “My love, may I please have the keys so I can get the AC going?”

“Of course, baby.” He handed them to you. “I’ll take care of the bags.” Leaning in, his lips met your cheek in a loud smacking kiss, slapping your ass before he walked away.

Miami had become a home away from home for Javier. It was a place where he could relax and be surrounded by the Murphys, whom he considered family even though they didn’t share blood.

Colombia never felt like home.

He knew he wasn’t welcome down there, finding his sparse apartments cold and lifeless, the only personal touch he made in the later years being the ofrenda for his late mother. There was no relaxing in South America when each morning he woke up could’ve been his last. Sure, he had Steve and Connie for a lot of it, but they were just as stressed as he was, and more so when Olivia came about, to the point Connie just up and left, back to the States.

Colombia was never home, and at the time he was sent back to Texas after his fuck up with Los Pepes, Laredo didn’t feel like home either.

He hadn’t known where he belonged when a good portion of the people in the town where he was born and raised still judged him for something he’d done over a decade earlier, a handful even hostile toward him.

After Steve finished their work and got Pablo Escobar, he returned to Florida to his wife and kid. They invited Javier to visit and stay in their guest room for however long he needed, and he had. They wouldn’t take any money he tried to offer them, but they accepted his help around the house and caring for Olivia, who was five by then.

Then he was called back to South America, and upon returning to the U.S. after that stint, he stayed with his dad for a month before he was in Miami again, that time for about a year, where he helped out with their barely ten-month-old, Stevie, and seven-year-old Olivia.

After going back to Laredo to be with his dad, he’d take occasional weekend trips like he and Cielito were doing now to stay with the family. Those trips became less frequent when they adopted Nate—he felt it was important they all had time to bond with their new addition without him being in the way.

He spent so much time in this Florida city, he knew his way around pretty well, like how it was faster to take 874 South instead of Ronald Reagan Turnpike, and as a bonus, they’d avoid tolls.

The air conditioning was cranked high, whooshing loudly while a Spanish station played loud enough to hear. He had one hand gripping the steering wheel, the fingers of his other laced with those of the woman he was going to marry, resting on her thigh.

She was looking out at the scenery in interest as they drove.

“Why’d you get this car?” she asked, staring out her window.

“So we’d have room for the little passengers.” Bringing her hand up, he kissed the back of it.

She looked at him. “The kids are gonna want to ride with us?”

He glanced at her, resting their hands back on her leg, smiling. “Oh, yeah. At least Olivia and Stevie—Nate’s too young to care. Doing the whole car seat thing in a smaller car fucking sucks.”

“So, what I’m hearing is we will be getting something like this when the baby-making starts and my car will have to go?”

Her car was a tiny two-door Honda, and just thinking about getting a car seat in it was making his back hurt, her question also causing his chest to go tight from happiness.

His eyes were back on the road. “Sorry, baby.” He squeezed her hand. “I know you love your car. I was thinking something bigger than this.”

“True,” she replied. “We gotta have room for all those babies you’re gonna knock me up with.”

A shock of arousal shot through his belly.

He had to clear his throat, his voice a little deeper. “Yeah…”

“I can’t believe that innocent comment turned you on,” she laughed, and he frowned.

“Don’t laugh,” he grumbled, having to wiggle a tiny bit in his seat with how blood had rushed to his dick.

Immediately, she stopped but still sounded amused. “I’m sorry, babe. I know it excites you a lot.”

“Excites you a lot, too.”

“Yes, it does. So, let’s talk about something safe. How long before we’re there?”

“About fifteen minutes.”

“That’s not too bad.”

She questioned him about what they lived close to, and he answered they were near a zoo, some parks, and the ocean was a ten-minute drive.

The Murphys lived in a one-story ranch-style house with an A-shaped gable roof extending over the front porch. The stucco on the outside was painted a golden yellow with crimson trim, and the window panes were outlined in bright white.

In the driveway, Connie’s minivan and Steve’s little truck were parked. Javi pulled in behind his best friend’s rig, and not even thirty seconds later the front door was opening, hearing muffled, high-pitched squeals.

“Hey,” he said to Cielito, getting her attention. “Relax. They’re gonna love you. You have nothing to worry about.”

“Promise?”

He smiled, letting go of her hand to hold up his pinky. “I pinky promise.” That made her smile as she looped hers with his, and he leaned in to kiss her quickly.

“Okay, we better get out,” he said.

“Okay.”

Out of the vehicle, Javier walked around the front, a tiny dirty blonde toddler screaming at the top of his lungs as he ran out of the house, “Tío (Uncle)! Tío! Tío! Tío! Tíoooooo!”

It made him smile, crouching and opening his arms to catch the little boy, holding and hugging him as he stood back up. “Mi sobrino (My nephew)!” The child was securely sitting on one of his arms, looking more like his dad than the last time he saw him. “You’ve gotten so big, Stevie!” He tickled the toddler’s belly, making him laugh and squirm.

Connie came out with Nate on her hip and Steve smiling beside her.

“What are you feeding him?” Javier asked his friends. “How has he grown so much in, what, eight, nine months?”

“Kids grow fast, Javi,” Steve answered. “Nate’s already walking.”

His eyes went wide, getting a good look at the baby who’d only been six or so months the last time he was here and now was over a year old and a toddler—he was bigger, his olive-colored arms not as chubby, the black curls on top of his head longer, and eyes still as dark as he remembered.

“You’ve gotta be fuc—” The other adults gave him looks, quickly correcting himself. “—freaking kidding me. He’s walking? Already?”

“Yep,” Connie answered. “And talking. Right now, he’s tired because it’s nap time. Isn’t that right, baby?” she cooed, kissing Nate’s hair, his head resting against her shoulder and babbling.

He was stunned at how quickly they grew in so little time, feeling a ball of anxiety form in his gut, thinking about his future children and losing so much time with them because of work. Dread was heavy like a stone on his chest at the thought of missing milestones of his kid’s growth.

Fingers snapped in front of his face to get his attention, hearing his name and realizing it was Steve, Javier swallowing hard.

“What?” he asked.

His best friend’s eyebrow rose. “I asked if you were gonna be polite and introduce us to your girlfriend.”

“Oh, shi-shoot.” She was on the side with his empty arm, and he rubbed his hand up her back, smiling. “Sorry, Steve, Connie, this is the woman I’m gonna marry—” He told them her name. “—or I just call her mi Cielito, my little heaven.” He kissed her temple. “Cielito, these are my best friends, Steve, Connie, Connie’s got Nate, and—” Straightening, he looked at the child in his arms. “Hey buddy, you wanna tell her your name?” he asked gently. Stevie hid his face in Javier’s neck, and his big hand went to the back of his head while his parents laughed. “Awe, it’s okay, bud.” He rubbed over the boy’s hair. “I know she’s a new person. She’s really nice and excited to meet you, and she makes amazing cookies.”

His little head popped up. “Cookies?” his tiny voice asked.

Javier smiled. He knew that’d get him. “Yeah, she makes amazing cookies.”

“I want cookies,” Stevie replied. His attention turned to Connie. “Can we have cookies, Mommy?”

“One second, baby boy.” She walked toward Cielito to whisper something in her ear.

His girlfriend nodded her head, answering, “Sure! I can do that!”

“Is it really okay?” the other woman asked, meeting her eyes.

“Yeah!”

“Okay.” Connie looked at her eldest son. “The nice lady says she’ll make cookies with you, but you’ll have to tell her your name.”

The boy looked past Javi to excitedly shout at Cielito, “Stevie!” Reaching his little arms toward her, and it made warmth spread through him when, without missing a beat, she took the toddler from him.

“Hi, Stevie,” she said with a warm smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”

They were facing him, and Javier pointed at her. “She’s gonna be your tía (aunt), Stevie.”

The child’s eyes moved from him to her. “Tía?” he asked, shoving a finger at her chest.

“Yeah, bud, she’s your tía (aunt), and I’m your tío (uncle).”

Tiny blue eyes met his. “Tío—” His head turned to her. “—Tía.”

“Yes.” She confirmed. “And you’re Stevie.” She gently poked his chest.

“Stevie!” He clapped his hands. “We’re gonna make cookies, Tía?”

“Yes, your mom said after your nap.”

“Well, let’s head inside then, guys,” grown-up Steve announced.

“Come with me,” Connie told his girlfriend. “The men can get the bags, and I’ll put the boys down for a nap.”

“Okay,” she replied.

It made him smile how easily she went, his eyes on her back with the toddler on her hip, whispering to him, and Javier thought it looked so perfect, so right; his mind was running wild with images of what she’d look like holding their child—wishing she was holding their child. Stevie looked like a miniature version of Steve; would Javier’s child with his future wife look more like him or her? Or would they be a mix of them both? What he knew for sure was they’d be perfect, and he would love them more than anything in the goddamn world.

Fuck, he couldn’t wait to get married.

Hands landed on his shoulders from behind.

“Jesus Christ, Jav,” Steve laughed, giving him a playful shake. He got out of the hold, spinning around to see his friend’s grinning face that made him clench his jaw. “I knew you had it bad, but this is something else—you’re really in love with this girl.”

His eyebrows creased, frowning.

Steve had known about his girlfriend since their relationship began and even gave him wanted and unwanted advice when he did and didn’t need it—he knew damn well Javier loved her. He’d been on his ass to fucking tell her, like how he’s been on his ass to get him to fucking propose, and only now was he actually believing it was all real?

It pissed him off that his best friend doubted his feelings for her.

“Fuck you, man,” he replied, shoving the other man’s shoulder and watching his face fall. “Yeah, I fucking love her. I’ve fucking told you.”

“Hey, hey—” Steve put up his hands in a placating gesture. “—I know you love her, Javier. I’ve known from how you’ve talked about her, but seeing it in person is something else.”

“What do you mean?” His hands were perched on his hips, ignoring the beads of sweat dripping down his spine under his shirt.

Steve smiled. “That ugly mug of yours—” He gestured at Javier’s face. “It’s clear in how you look at her. It’s like you’ve got fuckin’ hearts in your eyes or some shit,” he chuckled, Javier sighing. “I’ve known you for a long fucking time, Javi, and I’ve never seen you look at anyone the way you look at her.”

The explanation mollified him.

“I’ve never felt like this with anyone but her.”

“I know.” His friend clapped a hand on his bicep. “And I’m really fucking happy for you, Jav.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m sweating my balls off. Let’s get inside.”

“Yeah, it’s fucking hot,” he replied, heading toward the back of the rental.

He didn’t need help carrying the bags or directions to the guest room.

The house was nice and cool as he walked inside along the stone tiled floor and directly into their formal sitting room containing a long beige couch against the far left wall with a walnut-colored coffee table in front of it; a smaller version of the sofa along the wall beside the front door and under the large white-framed window, a chair that matched the same style across from it, and end tables at the sides of the couches.

They never actually used this area unless they were hosting guests or during Christmas when Connie would rearrange the furniture to make it picturesque with their tree. Steve thought it was a waste of space; his wife could never know that.

His shoes came off with everyone else’s by the front door, where Connie had a shoe rack overflowing with pairs for adults and children, leaving his next to Cielito’s on the floor. Going further into the room, Steve headed for the kitchen while he turned down the hallway that opened to the right and led to the bedrooms and bathrooms. Olivia’s was the first door on the right. The second was a full bath themed around dolphins, her favorite animal, with them on the shower curtain, the art on the walls, painted on the toothbrush holder, and soap dispenser.

Next was Nate’s room, his door closed and across the hall from his parents’ master suite.

The two boys’ rooms happened to be connected by a bathroom between them. Javier stopped in his tracks at Stevie’s open door—the woman he came here with, the one who made him the happiest man in the world, who he was going to marry and spend the rest of his life with, was sitting on the edge of his nephew’s bed with her back to the door, her attention on the child lying on his side facing her with his eyes closed under a light blanket as she rubbed small circles on his shirt-covered back.

Javier’s eyes crinkled at the edges when he smiled, a soft sigh leaving his lips.

“She volunteered,” Connie whispered behind him, causing him to jump in his skin. “Sorry for scaring you—“ She squeezed his arm reassuringly. “She volunteered,” she continued. “Asked me how she could help and what Stevie’s nap time routine was, and it looks like she’s a pro. She’s great with him.”

“Yeah, she is.” He spoke just as quietly, glancing over his shoulder. “Rubbing his back still puts him to sleep?”

She playfully slapped his arm. “That’s your damn fault.”

“It makes him fall asleep, doesn’t it?”

“Quickest way. We do it with Nate, too.”

“Then why are you mad at me?”

“It’s not right you out-parented us. Now, you better marry this woman, Javier. It’s about damn time you become a father.”

He scratched at his mustache. “You, uh, think I’d be a good dad?”

She looked at him like he was stupid.

“Javier, you’ve always been so much help when you stay with us, and the kids adore you. Yeah, you’re gonna be a fantastic father.”

His throat was feeling tight. Steve arrived at Connie’s back, holding a beer.

“What are y’all whispering about?” the other man quietly asked.

“Javi being a great dad,” his wife replied, looking over her shoulder at him.

“Oh, yeah, we’ve known that for years,” Steve said. “We just didn’t think you’d ever pull your head out of your ass and settle down.”

“Didn’t find the right person until now.” Javier shrugged. He peeked into the room, seeing his future wife was still occupied. Turning his head, he told the other two, “Follow me to the guest room. I need to ask you a favor.”

To be honest, you were really nervous about helping with nap time and stayed a little longer than necessary, rubbing the sleeping three-year-old's back to ensure he truly was passed out.

There’d been whispers in the hall that hadn’t helped your nerves, wondering what the other three adults were saying amongst themselves and knowing it was probably about you, hoping it was positive. Steve and Connie seemed to like you, and she had trusted you to help with her child, so that was a good sign. They’d disappeared into the guest bedroom, down and across the hall, Connie had pointed out earlier when she gave you a very quick tour.

You figured it was probably safe to leave now, ensuring the toddler was tucked in under his dark blue blanket before you’d gotten up and quietly tip-toed out of the door you closed behind you with a soft click.

It didn’t take too many steps to get to where the guest room door was cracked open, with light spilling out into the hallway, and muffled voices could be heard. You entered, finding your boyfriend and the other couple huddled at the foot of the queen-sized bed directly in front of you.

The walls were painted a soothing greige, the greyish-beige color accented by the eggshell white ceiling, trim, and doors for the closet and en suite. An interesting choice was the wrought iron bed frame that looked old and out of place alongside the nice newer black bedside tables and dresser across from it and the stone-colored armless accent chair in the corner—even the lamps were modern, making the dark, possibly rusting, iron stick out like a sore thumb. The large framed photos of ocean waves crashing and rolling decorating the walls made up for it, though, enjoying the room's atmosphere.

Javi’s head turned toward you, and he smiled. “Hey, baby.” He took a couple of steps to grab your hand and pulled you over to the Murphys.

“What were you guys talking about?” you asked.

“Going to the beach tomorrow,” Connie answered with a big smile. “Olivia’s staying home from school, and we were thinking we’d spend the day there.”

That made you grin. “I’d love that!” Javi pulled you into his side.

Your bags were on the ground in front of the dresser.

“I know,” your boyfriend said, kissing your hair.

It had warm fuzziness spreading through your veins at how thoughtful they were.

“Well, glad we’ve got that figured out,” Connie announced, clapping her hands together. “Javi knows, but let me show you where everything is.”

“Okay.”

She took you into the pretty standard bathroom—the combination shower/bathtub against the furthest wall from the door with a floral printed shower curtain on a golden rod; the bathroom vanity on your right as you walked in, painted white with a similar color laminate countertop and sink with red handles to open the drawers and cabinets under the sink, a large mirror hanging on the wall above it, and the toilet in the space between it and bath. She opened the doors under the sink so you could see where the towels and washcloths were kept and led you back into the bedroom to open the closet door so you knew where the extra blankets were.

“—and I’m sorry about the bed.” Connie grimaced.

“Yeah,” Javi interjected. “What happened to the old bed frame?” His hands were on the top of the footboard that looked like a wide, upside-down U made out of a thick pipe, with two smaller ones going across and others connecting those two in the middle. He gave it a little shake, the metal squeaking loudly.

“Steve saw this—” She pointed at it. “—and said it reminded him of a bed he’d slept in at his grandparents, and he just had to buy it. He thought it’d look great in here.”

“Right…” Javi replied, turning his head, and even though all you could see was the back of it, you knew he was glaring at his friend.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Steve asked, crossing his arms. “I have fond memories of spending time with ‘ol peepaw and granny. Like when he’d take me duck hunting.”

You were pretty sure you heard Javi mutter, “Fuckin’ hillbilly.”

Obviously, he was not happy about the sounds the bed was making, and you were a little disappointed about it, too—he hadn’t been joking about Steve hating you fucking in here.

The blonde man was smirking. “What was that?”

“I said it’s great you’ve got fond memories,” Javi sighed, looking forward again with the fingers of one hand pressed to his forehead.

“So,” Connie began, “again, I’m sorry about how squeaky the bed is—”

“I’m not,” Steve interrupted, which earned him a middle finger from your boyfriend, whom the blonde man simply laughed at.

“I’m sure it’s not that bad,” you said, trying to keep things civil.

“Hopefully,” the other woman replied with a nervous smile. “Well, we’re gonna get out of your hair ‘cause I’m sure you wanna freshen up after your flight.”

“If it’s okay with you guys, I might take a cat nap after I shower. Getting up so early and traveling has exhausted me.”

“Oh, that’s absolutely fine, honey.” She checked her watch. “We’ve got a little over an hour before Olivia is home, and the boys will sleep until right before she gets home. Come on, Steve, let’s leave them alone.”

“Yes, dear,” her husband answered, following her as she walked out of the room, Javi moving to close and lock the door after them.

He turned around with a grumpy expression, letting out a loud, long sigh.

“I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think it is,” you told him as you took a couple of steps to the bed and started getting on it—immediately, high-pitched squeaks sounded with any kind of movement you made on the mattress. “Okay, so it’s worse than your bed at your dad’s…”

“He did this on purpose,” he seethed, putting his hands on his slim hips while all his weight went to one side.

You were lying on your side with your head propped up on your arm to look at him standing over by the door.

“Uh, yeah, that’s obvious. It was a lot of effort to put into cock blocking you. He really doesn’t like the idea of you fucking under his roof.”

“I told you he’d hate it—didn’t think he’d do this.” He pouted.

You didn’t like how upset he was, and you had a great idea of how to cheer him up.

Ignoring the ear-splitting sounds as you got up from the bed.

“Keep standing there, looking pretty. I’ll be right back.”

You saw the confusion on his face for only a moment before you were walking around the front of the bed and away from him to go through the bathroom door beside the dresser. In seconds, you were back in the bedroom and tossing a white towel onto the grey chair in the corner on the other side of the en suite door.

“Are you taking a shower?” he asked, watching with curiosity as you moved toward him, his eyes on yours.

“Not right now,” you answered. “I’ve got more important things to do.”

Finally, you were in his space. “Like what?”

“You,” you answered, grabbing him by his open collar and tugging him toward you to crush your mouth against his, swallowing his moan. His arm went around your waist, the other hand on your back, allowing you to lick into his mouth, his tongue eagerly moving with yours in a familiar dance you both knew all too well.

Arousal was burning in your belly, feeling your heartbeat at the apex of your thighs, your need for him seeping into your underwear.

Your fingers started working open the buttons on his shirt.

“We can’t fuck on the bed,” he breathily said between kisses, a big palm grabbing your ass.

“The chair,” you replied, nipping at his bottom lip.

Suddenly, he was pulling back to look you in the eyes, his reddened lips glistening from spit while his shirt was unbuttoned, hanging open.

“The fucking chair,” he rasped, a look on his face like he was only just realizing.

“Yeah.” You nodded. “There’s also the floor, the counter in the bathroom, the shower, and the clear space at the wall right there—” You pointed behind where the door opened. “—if you were in the mood for wall sex, but you’re really upset about the bed—” You rubbed your hands up his bare chest. “—so I thought you’d enjoy getting ridden on the chair.”

His lips turned up in a toothy grin. “I love you so fucking much.” He kissed you quickly.

You matched his expression, looping your arms around his neck. “I love you, too, and I’m not letting a sabotaged bed stop me from getting dicked down. We just have to be… creative and quiet.”

His eyes darkened, the pink of his tongue peeking out for a second, and when he spoke, his voice had gone deeper and raspier. “You’re not tired,” he said matter-of-factly, his arm pulling you into him so your bodies were flush.

“Nope.” You popped the ‘p.’

“You don’t want to take a nap.”

“I don’t want to take a nap,” you confirmed.

His fingers slid along your cheek until he cradled your face, his gaze stuck to yours. “You want me to fuck you.”

“Very much.”

His head moved until his lips were grazing yours, nuzzling your nose with his. “What got you so worked up you couldn’t wait until we went to bed tonight, Cielito?”

His proximity was fanning the flames of arousal inside you, making your entire body heat, your nipples tighten, and your lips tingle where his barely touched.

Snaking your hand between your bodies, you palmed his hard cock straining against the zipper of his pants. “Probably the same thing that has you hard as a rock—I can’t stop thinking about having babies with you.”

“Fuck,” he groaned, thrusting into your hand. “I can’t fucking wait.”

“To get me pregnant?” you purred, stroking him over his jeans. “Or to fuck me?”

“Both,” he growled, grabbing the hem of your oversized shirt and saying as he roughly pulled it up and off your arms to land carelessly on the floor, “and you fucking know it.” You did, and it made your pussy throb.

“I do.” You helped him shrug off his button-up, your hands going to his belt next. “And I can’t fucking wait either.” The buckle clinked as you effortlessly worked it open and unbuttoned his jeans, hearing the teeth pull apart as you unzipped them.

Warm palms held your face to make you meet the dark pools of his eyes.

“To get pregnant,” his voice had gone lower, seeing his tongue quickly wet his bottom lip. “Or for me to fuck you?”

His pants were undone, and with there being no underwear in your way, you reached in and took him in hand, his shaft feeling like steel wrapped in heated velvet—hot, hard, and silky to the touch. A thrill moved through you at his mouth falling open and eyes closing, his groan going straight to your cunt.

“Both,” you answered.

One word and he became ravenous, desperate, smashing his mouth to yours in a passionate kiss while he went about undressing you as he walked you backward toward the chair—your bra getting tossed somewhere to your left, his lips leaving yours and stopping long enough for him to tug down your leggings and underwear in one fell swoop. He ghosted kisses up your body when he rose again until your mouths were attached once more, continuing the journey to the corner chair, his arm holding you around your middle to help guide you, your hands hanging onto his shoulders.

He spoke between presses of his lips to yours, “You looked so fucking perfect holding the kid…. You’re gonna be an amazing mother to our children…. I need you so fucking bad…. I wanna give you a baby…. Let me fuck a baby into you…. Please.” The last bits made you moan into his mouth, your nails digging into his skin.

The lines were blurred, and you weren’t sure if this was him leaning into the kink you shared or if he was being serious. It was true you couldn’t wait to get pregnant, but you both were well aware the apartment you lived in wasn’t big enough for the addition of a baby and had been actively working with one of the only two architects in town to design the home you planned to build. There was also the fact you wanted to get married first, and the proposal was months away. As much as you both wanted a child, you couldn’t start trying for another year at minimum.

Why were you overthinking this? You would just have a discussion with him after the sex to make sure you were both on the same page.

“God, yes,” you gasped. “I want it.”

The soft fabric of the chair hit the back of your legs, his big hands gripping your asscheeks, murmuring against your lips, “Let me eat your pussy first.”

“Later,” came your muffled reply. “This has to be quick, so we don’t get caught.”

You could feel him frowning before he broke away.

“I don’t fucking care if we get caught.” His eyebrows were furrowed, and his lips were turned down.

What he said made you sigh, another thing that had you overthinking. “I know you don’t care,” you kept your tone as gentle as possible, rubbing your hands over his bare back. “But I do. They’ve been your friends for years and already love you. I’m only just meeting them, and I don’t want to give them a bad first impression. Yeah, I’m okay with going against Steve’s wishes and fucking here, only as long as he doesn’t know. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah, I get it. I’m sorry.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I was an asshole for even thinking of letting us get caught.”

“It’s okay.” Your hands skated along his naked sides. “Now, let’s get back to the sexy—I am so horny.”

His hand fell. “Do you need me to finger you?”

“I think I’m wet enough. One second, though.” You held up a finger before turning around and spreading the towel over the seat. Facing him again, you ordered, “Pants off, Mr. Peña, and sit,” and moved out of his way.

He huffed out an amused breath, pushing down his jeans. “As you wish, Mrs. Peña.” Stepping out of them, a pained groan slipped from his throat as he straightened, taking the seat as you requested.

The armless chair was about as wide as a dining room chair with some cushioning and a channel-stitched back, covered in grey velvet, the wooden legs painted black. Javi sat down, getting comfortable as he sat back and spread his legs.

The sight before you had your mouth going dry.

His lust-filled gaze was looking up at you, taking in the broad shoulders, the expanse of his golden chest down to his soft tummy, where below his belly button, a trail of hair led your eyes to his big hand slowly stroking his hard cock; the tip was red and shining from the steady dribble of precum leaking from it, that he was using to ease the glide of his palm—he was the perfect picture of seduction and you were under his spell, willing to do anything he wanted.

A crooked smile appeared under his mustache.

“You wanna watch me jerk off?” he asked. “Or are you gonna ride me?”

The questions snapped you out of your reverie.

“Sorry,” you quickly apologized, stepping to stand between his widened knees. “You’re just so sexy, and you know, watching you jerk off really gets me going.”

“I know, mi amor (my love),” he chuckled.

His hand left his dick, the long shaft resting against the coarse hair on his belly. Gently, he tugged you by the arm down for a kiss, and you took over, slowly stroking him at the odd angle, making him groan into your mouth when you went lower to fondle his sack, his large palm reaching around to trace the curve of your ass before giving it a squeeze.

On occasion, your husband-to-be had the tendency to get caught up in kissing—Javi loved kissing, so when he pulled you forward by your backside, your arms went around his neck for balance, and you welcomed his tongue when it pressed between your lips. His palms slid up your sides to rest on your ribs as he plundered your mouth, your heart hammering in your chest, feeling slick coating your inner thighs.

The needy ache in your core got worse and worse with every passing minute, finally getting to the point where you had to get him inside you, or there was a chance you were going to combust from the pent-up tension.

You broke away, his lips chasing yours.

“I need you,” you panted.

His eyes met yours, his pupils blown so wide that only a thin sliver of chocolate brown remained.

“Okay,” he said through heavy breaths with a nod. “I’ve got you, baby. Stand up.”

You did as he said, watching as he spit on his fingers and rubbed the saliva onto his cock, doing it a couple of times until his entire length glistened in the bright overhead light.

Once satisfied, his hands were on your upper thighs as he helped you get one leg over his onto the ground beside the chair, then the other to have you standing on either side of him and straddling his hips. Not wasting any more time, you reached between your legs, guiding him to your entrance, and slowly lowered. That first stretch always stole your breath, resting your arms on his freckled shoulders, one of his going around your back to bring you flush to his front, his free hand skating down your back to grip one plump cheek of your ass.

Javi’s eyes had squeezed shut, his breath hitching, feeling how your walls were having to make space for the girth of him and relishing the slight burn from the lack of foreplay. He wasn’t even halfway in, and you rose until only the tip remained, dropping again to take a little more, doing the same thing over and over, taking more of him each time until he was fully seated inside you.

The familiar fullness made you smile, a deep sigh leaving you at how good it felt. Your skin was buzzing just below the surface, your body hot all over, sweat beginning to form on your brow, and you were in heaven.

His face was against your collarbone, his warm breath hitting your skin. “You feel so fucking good,” his voice was muffled, the hand on your ass tightening. “Fuck, te amo (I love you). No sé cuánto tiempo voy a durar (I don’t know how long I'll last). Úsame para hacerte venir (Use me to make yourself come). Úsame, por favor (Use me, please). ¿Puedes hacer eso por mí, Cielito (Can you do that for me, Cielito)? ¿Puedes hacerte sentir bien (Can you make yourself feel good)?”

“Sí (Yes),” you answered. “Sí, Papí (Yes, Papí).”

His chest rumbled under you from his groan, a hand coming down on your ass in a sharp slap that made you clench around him.

“Monta me (Ride me),” he ordered, smacking your backside again. “Monta me duro, mi amor (Ride me hard, my love).”

Grabbing the hair at the back of his head, you pulled on it as you straightened your spine to make him look at you, his eyes heavy-lidded when they blinked open, while yours narrowed in a glare.

“Javier, stop smacking my ass,” you hissed. “We have to be quiet, and you better make sure I don’t get too loud.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.

“Lo siento, cariño (I’m sorry, sweetheart).” His warm hands rubbed along the sides of your spine. “Prometo, estar más callado y evitar que hagas mucho ruido (I promise, I will be quieter and keep you from making too much noise).”

“Thank you,” you replied, pushing his hair back from his face. Leaning in close, you gave him a gentle peck on his lips and the tip of his nose. “If you come before me, it’s fine—it would probably take me with you, anyway.”

“Fuck,” he breathed, feeling him twitch inside you. “With how you’re soaking my dick, I think you’ll get off pretty fucking fast.”

“Probably.” You shrugged and started rolling your hips, watching in delight as his mouth fell open in a moan and his body shuddered.

His arm wrapped around your waist, the other hand holding your jaw, keeping his eyes locked on yours, your own arm over his shoulder, and free hand caressing the side of his face. Both of you were sharing in the pleasure, your bodies fitting together so perfectly like two puzzle pieces, breathing each other in, losing yourselves in this moment.

He wanted you to use him to make yourself feel good, so you did.

Standing made it easy to rise on your legs, sliding up his hard cock to leave only the head and fall back down, thrusting your hips forward on the downstroke to take him to the hilt and make him raggedly groan.

Heat was blooming in your belly, getting hotter with every second you worked yourself on his dick. He pulled you in for a kiss, and you slowed to a grind, the rough curls at the base of his cock rubbing deliciously against the swollen bud of your clit, adding gasoline to the fire inside you.

Like this, he was in so deep you were sure you could probably feel him if you pressed on your stomach, and you knew if he knew that, he’d be a smug bastard about it, which was valid.

You started moving again, the kissing becoming sporadic as you rode him in earnest, your arousal spilling down his shaft to coat his balls. His fingers were digging into the cheeks of your ass, his arms flexing as he gave you momentum and helped you move.

The two of you were trying your best to stay quiet and hold back your sounds, Javi’s face flushed and forehead wet with sweat, both unable to keep some noise from slipping out. The loudest sound was between your legs, hearing the wet suck of your slick gushing around him when his dick pushed into your drenched hole.

Something about fucking in places where there was a chance of getting caught really turned you and him on. Add in, you were told without explicitly being told you weren’t allowed to have sex here, and the higher risk had you rocketing toward your orgasm—Javi was right; you were going to get off quick.

His hands went to your tits, his thick fingers zeroing in on your pebbled nipples, pinching and rolling them before his mouth's hot, wet heat pulled one stiff peak into his mouth.

“God, yes,” you moaned, pleasure shooting directly to your cunt as you bounced on his thick cock.

The muscles in your belly were tightening, adjusting your hips so every time you sunk down, he was pressing into that one spot that dotted your vision with stars, his mouth giving your other breast the same treatment.

This all felt amazing, but there was something you needed…

“Touch me,” you panted, rising and falling in his lap.

His head popped up, glazed over eyes looking at your face.

“Anywhere?” he breathily asked, and the question made you stifle a moan.

“Yes.”

“I’ll get you there.” And you had no doubt.

He started with tweaking your wet nipple, roughly pinching it, his other hand going between your bodies to rub his thumb against your sensitive clit, the sensations feeling like electricity arcing up your spine, making your rhythm stutter for a moment—the heat in your stomach was growing and getting hotter, the closer you were to your climax.

“Hang onto my neck,” he told you.

“What?”

“Lean forward and hold onto my neck.”

You did as he said, pressing into his front and hanging onto him.

His hand on your breast moved to cup your bottom, and he adjusted in the seat, grunting as he sat up, the chair creaking beneath him. Your tempo slowed while he continued circling your bundle of nerves with one hand, his other arm reaching around your thigh to spread two fingers around where his cock was impaling you, feeling how he was stretching you open.

“Your tight little pussy takes my dick so well,” he spoke into your breasts with how you were raised up on your feet, his cock halfway inside you. “I swear I was fucking made for you.”

A moan slipped from your lips unbidden when those same fingers slid through the abundance of your slick on his length and continued up, swiping along the edges of your puckered hole, causing sparks to dance in your center. One thick finger slowly pushed into the tight ring of muscle to the first knuckle, your eyes rolling back in your head and toes curling at the added fullness, biting your lip to keep yourself from making any noise. You worked yourself faster on his dick, tilting your pelvis so he was pressing into all of the right spots, his digit fucking in and out of you at the same pace, it all making you go dizzy with pleasure.

Your inner walls were fluttering.

“Come on, baby,” he rasped, not stopping what he was doing. “Once you come, I’m gonna fill you up.” His head lifted. “Gonna fuck you full of me.” He kissed your clavicle, maintaining your pace. “Stuff you so full of my come, I knock you up.” You whimpered and were almost there. “Isn’t that what you want?” His fingers were still circling your clit and pushing in and out of your asshole, your hips rolling on his cock. “For me to finally get you pregnant?” he asked. “I’ll fuck a baby into you, Cielito, all you have to do is ask.”

And you knew he meant it, the thought entering your mind that you could throw out your birth control today, and odds were he’d have you pregnant by next month—that was what made you crest, sitting all the way down in his lap as you came, your body tensing up tight as euphoria exploded out from your center, spreading through your system. His hand on your front was suddenly over your mouth to smother your loud cry, your body trembling as you slumped into him.

“Good girl,” his words came out thick and rough. “You’re so good to me.”

Your chest was heaving, enjoying the aftershocks and the feel of your cunt spasming around his dick that was still hard inside you.

His hand left your lips to ghost up and down your spine, and he removed the finger from your ass.

“This baby stuff is getting dangerous,” you sounded drunk, slurring your words, your face in the crook of his neck.

“What?”

“Our breeding kinks. You wanna know the thing that fucking got me?”

“Yeah.”

Leaning back to look him in the eyes, you told him, “The thought that if I tossed my birth control today, you’d probably have me pregnant by next month.” His cock jerked hard inside you. “I got off on you being fucking virile.”

His eyes were practically black, licking his lips before he spoke. “We, uh—” He cleared his throat. “—we, uh, could test your theory…?” The hope was there on his face, and it made you feel like utter shit to have to deny him of his dream. This man wanted to be a father so fucking bad, and you more than wanted to make him one. It just wasn’t feasible at this point in time.

You held his face in your hands, stroking your thumbs over his cheeks.

“Javi, I love you,” you started. “I want to have all of your babies, but as we both know, the apartment is too small for us and a baby. There’s also the whole I want us to be married thing, too.”

“Pop said we can move in with him while the house is being built, and we’ll be married before a baby is born.” He sounded very sure of himself.

Your eyebrow lifted. “How are you so positive we’ll be married in less than ten months?”

He smiled. “Because you pre-accepted my proposal and told me you didn’t want a big wedding.”

That was something you told him.

Standing in front of a giant room full of people you actually only knew a fraction of and being the center of attention sounded like a literal nightmare scenario. A tiny wedding with only close friends and family in attendance was something more your speed—hell, eloping seemed like a goddamn dream.

It hit you then the possibility of how soon the two of you could be married, and excitement bubbled up inside you, doing the first thing that came to mind and kissing him deeply, cradling his smooth cheeks in your palms. His lips were soft and plush, his tongue delving into your mouth with a moan, it turning into one of those kisses that drove you wild.

You needed to make him feel good. You needed him to feel your love and happiness.

His dick was still throbbing in your pussy, and you started rolling your hips, his hands cupping your backside, keeping you in charge of the rhythm while he assisted in your movements.

The way he liked it when you were on top was for you to go hard and fast, so you lifted and slammed back down in quick succession. It was slippery between your thighs, his cock sliding easily in and out of your wet heat, the kisses turning messy with how you were moving on him.

In this position with both of you sitting up, you could get him to come pretty quickly if you sloppily made out with him and occasionally clenched your cunt around his cock; he’d say that was playing dirty if this was a regular romp, but under current circumstances, they were legal maneuvers like how he toyed with your clit and put a finger in your ass. These were all finishing moves that generally only came into play during quickies, though, when he was in the mood to make you come multiple times, he was liberal in their usage—and every time you were about to utilize a move, the fatality screen from Mortal Kombat came to mind, hearing in your brain the announcer say, “Finish Him.”

His eyebrows were knitted together, and his eyes were closed, the effort he was putting into being quiet causing pitiful whines to escape his throat. He was tense beneath you, every muscle in his body pulled taut like a bowstring close to snapping, and you knew he was almost there, clenching up around him on your downstrokes.

“‘M close,” he murmured, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your behind and spreading your cheeks while helping you rise and fall.

“Yeah?” you replied through heavy breaths. “I want you to come for me, Javi.” Your kiss landed on the side of his mouth. “I love you.” This kiss made it onto his lips. “I want to marry you, have your children, and spend the rest of my life with you.”

He pressed his face into your chest, kissing what he could while you moved up and down—over the tops of your breasts, along your collarbones, up the line of your throat; all the while, he was saying against your skin, “Te amo (I love you). Me voy a casar contigo (I’m going to marry you). Te voy a dar todos los hijos que quieras (I will give you as many children as you want). Voy a pasar el resto de mi vida contigo (I’m going to spend the rest of my life with you). Fuck, te sientes tan bien (you feel so good). Eres perfecta (You’re perfect). No puedo esperar a verte embarazada (I can’t wait to see you pregnant).”

“Embarazada con tu bebé (Pregnant with your baby),” you panted.

A strangled noise came from him, shoving his face in your neck to mute it as he pulled you down to completely bury himself inside you. His teeth sunk into the spot where your neck met your shoulder, and you hissed at the pleasurable pain; his dick thickened, feeling it jerk, and the familiar wet pulse of spurts and spurts of his come gushing deep in your depths to fill you.

You ran your fingers through his sweat-damp hair, his heaving breaths hot against your skin as he soothed over the bite with kisses, your own chest rising and falling rapidly, his arms hugging you close to him.

The solutions he had so you could have a baby were rolling around in your head, and you wondered if it really would be that easy.

Chucho would be over the goddamn moon if you guys temporarily moved in with him, and then a baby on top of that? His first nieto (grandchild)? The thing he constantly brought up? Chucho wanted to be a grandfather just as bad as Javi wanted to be a dad, and you knew he’d do anything for you both.

Why were nerves fluttering around in your belly? You should be ecstatic, but there was a voice in your brain that sounded a lot like your mother pointing out you haven’t even been together a year. For all intents and purposes, you were still in the honeymoon stage of your relationship, and that’d have to end at some point. Would you both still feel the same after a year has passed? Two? Five? Ten? Would he still be as attracted to you after your body changed from pregnancy?

These questions were stressing you out.

“Javi?”

He hummed in reply.

“You know how you feel about me right now. Do you think you’ll still feel that way in a year?”

His head came up with his eyebrows pulled together.

“Yeah?” he answered.

“What about in two years?”

He was giving you a look like the answer was obvious.

“Cielito, I’m gonna love you like this for the rest of my fucking life.”

Your voice was small, “How can you be sure?”

His hands had started rubbing comforting circles on your hips, looking at you with a tender gaze.

“I’m my father’s kid,” he said, “and when we find the person meant for us, that’s it; it’s game over. We dedicate our lives to them, and we love them so fucking deeply we feel it in our souls—this is going to sound stupid, but Pop says we’re penguins.”

“Penguins?”

“Yeah, he watched some nature documentary and found out they mate for life—we’re penguins.”

It made you grin. “That is the absolute cutest shit I have ever heard.”

He smiled. “I knew you’d like it. Does that make you feel better?”

“Yes,” you answered truthfully. “We’re mated for life.”

“Yeah, we are, and I know it’s not gonna be all sunshine and rainbows. We’ll have our ups and downs like all couples do, but there’s no one else I’d rather go through the good and bad with.” The look on his face changed to something unsure. “Do you, uh, think your feelings will change?”

“I don’t think so. My love for you is so embedded inside me that it sometimes feels like you’ve always been with me, and I just didn’t know. So, I think I’m a penguin, too.”

He chuckled, leaning in to sweetly kiss you. When his lips left yours, he nuzzled your face.

“Anything else you need reassurance about?” he gently asked with his nose sliding along yours.

“Um, the other thing was if you’d still be attracted to my body post-pregnancy…”

A thing you loved about Javi was how you could basically tell what he was thinking from the expression on his face, and right this second, as he stared at you, he was trying to work out how to politely tell you it was stupid to think he’d find you unattractive after having his baby.

“Are you talking about the body that grew our baby and kept them safe for nine months?” he asked, and yeah, you realized now how dumb it was to think something so absurd. “Yeah, I’m still gonna be attracted to you,” he continued, “the woman I love, who made me a father. I’m not gonna care about stretch marks or if you put on weight or any of the other shit that’ll change. You did something fucking incredible, and honestly, it makes me hard thinking about you being pregnant, so if there are things to remind me of that, I’m probably gonna be all over you constantly. Feel better?”

That eased your worries.

“Much.” You gave him a quick peck on the lips. “Thank you. Now, let’s go take a shower.” You started to move, and he stopped you.

Hope was swirling in his eyes. “Is this a yes to a baby?”

“This is a maybe on the baby, and we will need to have a long discussion with your father.”

The smile he gave you was so blinding, you were sure it outshined the sun, a joyous laugh coming from him as he hugged you into his arms and squeezed you tight.

“I’m so fucking happy.” The emotion was heavy in his voice. “Thank you so much.” He sniffled in your ear.

Your hands slid over his back. “Don’t thank me yet. It’s not set in stone.”

He pulled back, his eyes rimmed red, tears falling down his cheeks.

“No,” he replied. “Thank you for loving me and being with me and wanting to have kids with me. I know it’s not a sure thing, but it’s the fact there’s a chance.” His voice cracked when he said the last word, his shoulders shaking.

“Oh, babe.” You wrapped your arms around him and held him close to your body.

This reaction for a maybe made you want to throw all caution to the wind and say fuck it, and just start trying, the rational part of your brain telling you to cool your jets. It was an angel and demon on your shoulders situation, with you leaning toward the baby, and it wasn’t going to help that the two of you would be around children for the next few days.

The way Javi interacted with Stevie? Almost killed you. He was so sweet, and the child clearly loved him so much it had your ovaries aching. Three days, you were going to have to watch him with the Murphy kids, and you weren’t sure if you were going to survive or keep from throwing your birth control in the trash.

You had to be strong.

Javier knew this trip would be important since he was bringing his wif-girlfriend to meet his best friend’s family. He just didn’t expect also to get the news they might be able to start trying for a baby sooner than they had planned.

Don’t get him wrong, he was excited about having their house built and getting to have a say in the design, but they were looking at twelve to fourteen months before it’d be ready to move into, and he did not want to wait that long to start their family—he was feeling… impatient. He’d already wasted enough of his life, and with him turning fucking forty on Sunday, he’d been plagued with thoughts of how many years he had left above ground.

A couple of weeks ago, his therapist told him he was having a mid-life crisis, which he scoffed at because he sure as hell wasn’t buying some expensive sports car or chasing women half his age—he outright owned his dependable truck and was more than happy in his amazing and healthy relationship with a woman slightly younger than him. Then the therapist went for his jugular over why he’d begun wrestling with feelings of his mortality and how it started with him planning their trip to Miami and thinking about the Murphys and Cielito. What it boiled down to was he regretted the time he lost to his job and now felt unfulfilled that, at his age, he didn’t have a family of his own like Steve.

The guy was right, and it annoyed him.

It gave him a swift kick in the ass to figure out some things, though.

Like how he went out to his dad’s last Tuesday after work to have a beer with him and ask if he was serious about them living with him if they were ever expecting and their home was still under construction—he said yes, and told Javier when Cielito eventually got pregnant he was planning to turn the guest bedroom into a nursery anyway.

There was also the ring box he rolled up in a pair of socks tucked away at the bottom of the duffle bag he brought.

He was ready to make some big changes, and by the end of this trip, he hoped more than anything he’d have a fiancée.

After he got all of his happy tears out, they kissed and got off of the chair to take a shower, stopping on the way for her to grab her toiletry bag from her luggage.

They washed each other and stole kisses, his hands wandering over her soapy skin with her giggles echoing in the stall. It didn’t take them very long to finish, going through their after-shower routines to get dry and do their hair. They changed into clean clothes, and he put on a lavender-colored button-up and some jeans, his eyes glued to her ass in the high-waisted denim shorts she was wearing as she bent over to put on her socks. He found himself closing the distance in two long strides to grab her hips, carefully bumping and rubbing the front of his pants against her backside.

“Are you seriously humping me while I put on my socks?”

He frowned. “I’m not humping you. You’d know if I was humping you.”

“Fine. Are you seriously grinding on me while I put on my socks?”

“Maybe…”

She finished what she was doing, her socked feet planted on the floor, standing back up and turning in his arms.

There was an exasperated look on her face as she smiled. “You’re so fucking ridiculous.” Her arms went around his neck.

“They’re nice shorts,” he replied, making her laugh when he grabbed handfuls of her ass.

“Well, you’ll be excited to know I only brought shorts and leggings.”

He smirked. “I’m very excited about that.”

“Good. Have we been in here long enough that they’ll believe we showered and napped?”

Checking his watch, he answered, “We’ve been in here about an hour, so I think we’re in the clear.”

The look on her face shifted to something nervous.

“Do you think we made too much noise?”

For her comfort, he slid his hands up and down her sides.

He’d never lie to her, so he told her the truth. “They’re on the opposite side of the house, and between them and us is their master bathroom that’s on the other side of that wall—” He pointed at the wall next to the door to the guest room’s en suite. “—then their walk-in closet, their big fucking bedroom, and finally you’d end up in the kitchen. Unless they used their bathroom or came down the hall to check on the boys, which I doubt because they have the baby monitors, I don’t think they heard anything.”

“You’re sure?”

The smile on his face was reassuring. “Yes. I’m not lying, Cielito.”

She let out a breath, and her body seemed to relax. “Okay, fingers crossed they didn’t hear anything. Let’s head out there.”

“Bésame antes de irnos, por favor (Kiss me before we go, please),” he said, puckering his lips.

“So polite.” She leaned in to kiss him.

When they separated, he took her hand, leading her out to find his friends.

They found Steve in the actual living room they used at the back of the house, having to walk through the kitchen and dining room to get to it. There was a massive brown leather sofa in the middle of the room, Steve’s recliner next to it, a coffee table, and a decent-sized television in their entertainment center against the wall in front of the couch that had an abundance of VHS movies aimed towards children, and it looked like Connie had cleaned up after the boys, all of their toys put away in their toy box or back in their designated spots in the part of space designated for the kids.

Walking in, they were behind the sofa, seeing Steve was watching ESPN and the highlights of a basketball game from the previous night between the Chicago Bulls and Orlando Magic, a beer held in his hand.

His head turned toward them, his lips turning up in a shit-eating grin. “How’d y'all sleep on the bed?”

Javier’s eyes narrowed. “Like babies.”

Cielito moved to stand beside him in his friend’s view.

Steve sputtered into laughter, and Javier frowned at the sudden outburst. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me!” the other man finally said. “Matching shirts?” He looked over at his future wife and her V-neck that was the same lavender color as his, he matched out of habit—all the shirts he brought had counterparts to what she had in her luggage. It was their thing. His friend wiped at his eyes. “Who are you, and what have you done with my asshole of a best friend?”

“I don’t see what the big deal is about us matching,” he replied, crossing his arms. “So what if we like to look good together? Where’s Connie?”

“Doing laundry.” He nodded toward the door that led to the laundry room, and as if she were summoned, it opened, and she came in holding a large basket full of clothes against her hip with one arm.

“Oh, great!” she exclaimed. “You’re up!” She paused after shutting the door. “Be honest with me, how bad is the bed? If you can’t sleep on it, I’ll pull out the air mattress.”

Just the thought of sleeping on an air mattress made Javier’s body ache.

“It’s pretty squeaky,” Cielito answered. “But we’ll survive. It’s seriously okay.” She waved away the concern.

“If you’re sure.”

Sounds started coming from the baby monitors on the coffee table, Stevie and Nate both in their separate bedrooms calling for their mom.

“Oh,” Connie said. “Looks like the boys are up. I’ll go put the laundry in our bedroom and get them.”

“Don’t worry about it, Connie,” Javier told her. “I’ll get them.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” he replied. “It’s not a problem.” His head turned to the woman next to him. “Do you want to come with me or stay out here?”

She smiled at him. “I’m sure you can use an extra set of hands—I’ll come with.”

He nodded with a matching look, taking her hand once more and guiding her back to the hallway where the bedrooms were located.

First, they stopped in Nate’s room, finding the tiny boy standing at the railing of his crib, crying for his mom.

“Oh, mi precioso (my precious),” Javier cooed, quickly making his way over and scooping the child up. He held him on his hip, bouncing a little while rubbing his back. “You’re okay, buddy. Shhh, you’re okay. We’ll go see your mom in just a minute.” Turning to look at Cielito, she had a soft expression on her face. “Baby?” She was just staring, and it made him grin. “Mi amor (My love)?”

She visibly jolted. “Sorry. Yes. Did you say something?”

“Was trying to get your attention. I need to change his diaper. Do you wanna go get Stevie?”

“I can get Stevie, yes,” she answered, nodding. “Be right back.” Immediately, she turned and left the room.

Nate had calmed down and wasn’t crying anymore, murmuring mom over and over again with his hand in his mouth.

“That was your tía (aunt),” he informed the little one as he walked him over to the changing table. “I know you can keep a secret,” he whispered, laying the child on the cushioned top. “I’m gonna propose to her tomorrow.” Grabbing a clean diaper and the wipes from the shelf underneath, he went about changing the toddler. “I figured out how I’m gonna do it last weekend,” he continued talking, his hands working. “So, she’s gonna be your tía, and hopefully soon you’ll have some primos (cousins).” He tossed the dirty diaper into the lidded bin he opened with the foot pedal, the kid now in a clean one as Javier buttoned back up his turquoise onesie with a sleeping long-eared, white, spotted dog on it.

“Who’s that?” Came his soon-to-be fiancée’s voice from the doorway. He turned his head to see her holding the other boy in her arm while she pointed at him with a smile.

“Tío!” Stevie shouted, grinning. “Tío and Nate!”

Javier picked up the younger of the two children and smiled.

“That’s right, buddy,” he said, turning toward them. “Who’s holding you?”

The three-year-old pressed his finger against Cielito’s chest. “Tía!”

“Good job!” He was close to them now, affectionately ruffling the kid’s dirty blonde hair with his hand and making him laugh. “You’re so smart.”

Stevie held out his arms to Javier, and he quickly took him in his free arm, both boys sitting comfortably on each of his hips.

“Oh, no,” his future wife breathed, staring at him with wide eyes.

Concern was etched on his brow. “What?”

“My ovaries feel like they’re gonna explode.”

“Is that a bad thing…?” He wasn’t sure.

“For my self-control? Yes. For you getting that thing you want really bad? No.”

“What thing do I want…?”

Her answer was to point at Nate, and his heartbeat stuttered, sucking in a breath.

This meant she really was contemplating them not waiting to have a baby, and it made hope swell in his chest. He didn’t want to be an asshole and deliberately wear down her resolve. Still, he also couldn’t control how he usually interacted with the Murphy kids, which apparently was getting to her—it made him happy that she was so affected by him being great with the children. He was beginning to think this trip was going to show her that he’d be a decent father.

He didn’t have a chance to respond, hearing from down the hall in the living room, Olivia shouting, “Is he here?!”

She must’ve just gotten home from school.

“Sissy’s home!” Stevie exclaimed.

“It sounds like she is,” Javier replied. “Let’s go see her.” He looked at Cielito. “Ready to meet the oldest?”

“Yep.”

Running footsteps could be heard as they made their way out of the room, his wif-girlfriend behind him on their journey toward the sound of voices. The young girl seemed to have run to where her father was in the living room because she came speeding back through the dining room that connected it to the front sitting area and finally found them.

“Tío!” Olivia had a big grin, missing a couple of baby teeth in the front, throwing her arms around his middle when she reached him, hugging him hard.

“Hola, mi sobrina (Hi, my niece). Lo siento, no tengo brazos para abrazarte en este momento (I’m sorry, I don’t have arms to hug you right now).”

Steve and Connie felt that Olivia should learn Spanish and had enrolled her in after-school classes for it since she first started going to school. Her dad’s Spanish was shit, and her mom’s wasn’t much better, so any time she needed help with homework she’d call Javier.

“Está bien (It’s okay). Estoy feliz que estás aquí (I’m happy you’re here).”

Connie was walking up, having come from the kitchen. Nate immediately reached toward her and chanted Mom.

“I’m here, baby,” she said, taking him from Javier and returning to where she’d been.

With a hand free, he patted Olivia’s back.

“Hi, Sissy!” Stevie greeted.

“Hi, Stevie,” she replied.

“¿Cómo te fue en la escuela (How was school)?” Javier asked the nine-year-old.

She let go of him to look up and meet his eyes.

“Bien (Good). Aprendí sobre (I learned about), ¿cómo se dice dinosaurs (how do you say dinosaurs)?”

“Los dinosaurios. ¿Qué te enseñaban sobre los dinosaurios (What did they teach you about dinosaurs)?”

“Oh, my teacher wasn’t teaching us about dinosaurs today,” she said, switching to English. “I don’t know what she was teaching.” The girl shrugged. “I was too busy reading this book I got in the library about dinosaurs.”

He smiled.

“Which dinosaur is your favorite?”

“Triceratops! They could take on T-Rexes. I want to look for dinosaur fossils when I’m older!”

“You want to be a paleontologist?”

She looked confused. “What’s a pale—a palien-tol-gist?”

“Paleontologist,” he said slower. “They’re scientists who study fossils.”

“Yes, I want to do that!” She nodded enthusiastically.

“Sissy!” Stevie loudly called, bouncing in Javier’s hold. “Sissy!”

“Yes, Stevie?”

“Tía’s gonna make cookies with me!”

Confusion was on her face again. “Tía?”

It made him realize he hadn’t introduced the young girl to his other half.

“Yes, your tía,” Javier told her and moved the toddler from one arm to the other so he could wrap the free one around Cielito’s waist. “Olivia, I want you to meet the woman I’ve told you about who I’m gonna marry.” He introduced her to Cielito.

“Oh! Cielito!” She looked over at the older woman. “Hi!” She waved.

Cielito was smiling. “Hi,” she replied. “It’s nice to meet you, Olivia.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too. I wanna make cookies! What kind?”

“Chocolate chip.”

“My favorite!”

“Mine, too.”

“Cookies!” Stevie shouted, making Javier snort and his future wife giggle.

“Better head to the kitchen,” Javier said.

“Yeah,” Cielito responded. “Let’s all go make cookies. You too, Olivia.”

“Yes!” The girl did little jumps of excitement.

In the kitchen, they found the ingredients for the cookies waiting for them on the counter, Connie having already gotten them out along with measuring cups and spoons, a large bowl, and an electric hand mixer. Hands were washed, including Stevie’s, who had a little stool to stand on so he could help as well as a toddler could.

Cielito entranced the children as she walked them through step by step how to make the cookie dough, and Javier left the room for only a minute to run to the bedroom and grab his camera.

She had Stevie in front of her on the stool, holding the toddler’s little hand to help him scoop the flour and sugar into the bowl, and Olivia next to her. She showed the young girl how to crack the eggs, and when they got to adding the chocolate chips, they all took handfuls to snack on—and through it all, Javier took pictures, getting candids of them laughing and others where he asked them to look and smile at him, Stevie always grinning big and saying cheese.

Baking with a three-year-old was chaotic with how he wanted to touch and get into everything, but Cielito handled it like a champ and had the patience of a saint.

It all had him thinking about their future, easily picturing her doing this same thing with their own kids. It reminded him of how some of his favorite memories growing up were cooking with his mom, and it made his eyes burn that his children would get to have similar experiences.

What he has known, and was being proven right, was he’s found his perfect match and the person he was supposed to spend his life with.

From the moment he met her, there was something about her, some kind of pull—he was drawn to her like a moth to a flame, and as he got to know her, she engulfed him, and he fell hard. After their first date, on his drive home, he experienced something new: he imagined what his future would look like with her in it. A lifetime played out in his mind of them dating, getting engaged, married, buying a house, getting a dog, and he’d never felt so much hope before.

He didn’t think he had a chance in hell to make it a reality. He was positive he’d fuck it up before the third date.

By some miracle, he didn’t.

When he thought about those first few dates, the second was when he fell in love with her—that was when he knew she was it. By the third date, he knew he was going to marry her.

A thing about Javier was when he put his mind to something, he got it done, and he didn’t like to waste time—this evidently also included relationships. He fucked up when he said he’d propose on their anniversary because there was no way he was going to be able to wait that long—and he cracked quicker than an egg hitting a wall.

How could he not when she was so perfect?

Life was dull before her, empty; he always felt like something was missing. She was what was missing, filling that space inside him, turning everything vibrant and lively. There were an infinite number of ways their lives could’ve played out, and he knew in every single one the path he chose would always lead him back to her—they were meant to find each other.

His love for her burned brighter than the brightest star in the night sky, and she was a part of him now—he could feel her burrowed deep down in his bones to the point there was no him without her any longer. She was his first and the only love of his life; there was no one before, and there wouldn’t be anyone after because she was the one for him.

And when he held her, he held the entire world in his arms.

She was his world.

She was everything.

And in less than twenty-four hours, she would hopefully say yes when he asked a particular question while holding a ring.

Until then, he’d try to stay calm while watching her interact with his friend’s kids and ignore how his chest was filled with so much happiness he thought it might burst. These glimpses of what she’ll be like as a mother were driving him crazy, and it was taking everything in him not to haul her back to the bedroom and show her how much he loved it—they couldn’t, anyway, with the kids wanting to spend time with them and the damn bed. Fucking Steve.

He didn’t want to rile himself up, so he’d do his best to avoid thinking about her being the mother of his children or how earlier she said maybe to a baby.

Who was he kidding? It was all he could think about, and he was dying to get her alone.

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