#i have been pissed off by every emoji version of :p

[chelsfic]

Part Six - Wish You Weren’t Here - Diego Jiménez x Reader - Starz Power

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five

A/N: Here is some much needed smut. Along with some friendship fluff with Julio!

Warnings: Smut

Julio sends you a text when he gets to your building. You peer down through the sheer curtains of your living room window. The shiny, black Cadillac SUV sticks out like a sore thumb on your street. Your neighbors probably think you’re in witness protection or something. If they only knew the truth…

You send him thirty heart emojis in response. It’s been a week since Julio started driving you and you think you’ve managed to successfully weasel into his good graces. The key is to annoy him with friendship. A talent of yours, luckily.

You press a kiss to Pig’s head on your way out the door. 

“Bye, my baby!” you whisper into her calico fur. She blinks up at you and stretches out on the couch in luxury as you leave. 

It’s flurrying outside and now that you don’t have to walk in it you can appreciate how pretty the city looks under a fresh blanket of snow. You hop up into the passenger seat--literally hopping, you’re short and this vehicle is giant--and take pleasure in the heated leather seats. 

“Hey,” Julio greets you, handing you a cup of coffee.

You stare at it like he’s just handed you the Olympic torch. Then he gestures to the box on the center console and you squawk in joy.

“Julio! You got me coffee?? And...and--” you open the box--“Croissants! You went to The Usual Place? For me? I knew you liked me. Now we’re friends forever!”

Julio rolls his eyes and groans dramatically but you spot the tiniest indentation of his lips, the smallest hint of a smile. 

“Just don’t eat all the chocolate ones,” he grumbles.

You smile and warm your hands on the coffee cup as he pulls away from the curb. You’re really getting spoiled having him drive you to and from work every day. How will you be able to deal when you have to get yourself to the store to buy groceries this weekend? Unthinkable! You laugh a little under your breath. How quickly the snobbery becomes you.

Julio watches you from the corner of his eye and smiles sadly. He went out of his way this morning to make you happy. He’s still pissed at Diego. Julio has watched his boss pull you into passing kisses and embraces all week long. He doesn’t think anything else has happened yet--God knows Diego’ll let him know when it does. But he sees how you can’t stop smiling after Diego kisses you. And--despite his best efforts to remain aloof--you’ve somehow managed to make Julio like you. So he was pissed when his boss asked him to pick up Francesca and two of her friends last and bring them to the penthouse. He loves Diego but the boy can be stupid. And unintentionally cruel. He just prays you don’t find out. And he prays Diego isn’t stupid enough to continue his exhibitionist shit with you now that everything is...changing.

“Julio?” 

You startle him from his musings and he arches an eyebrow at you comically, watching you stuff the last bite of croissant into your mouth.

You take a sip of coffee to wash it down and continue, “Has...has Diego ever had a--girlfriend?”

Oh. God. You are thirteen years old. You’re starring in your own dumbass rom com Thirty Going On Thirteen. You slap your hand over your eyes so you don’t have to watch Julio’s face as he answers.

Julio clears his throat but he doesn’t succeed in covering the short laugh at your antics, “Diego? I’ve known him almost ten years. I’ve never seen him with a...girlfriend.”

You let your hand fall away from your eyes and look over at Julio earnestly, “So...he’s never had anything...serious?”

Julio turns to look at you as he stops the car at a red light. The pity in his eyes forces you to look away.

His voice is soft and you want to punch him. “His life just makes it...hard. You shouldn’t…”

His voice trails off. He wants to warn you. To help you. He likes you, damn it. You’re a little weirdo and it’s hilarious that his boss is so enthralled with you, but he knows Diego is going to hurt you. Still...it’s Diego. His boy. And he can’t bring himself to say something that would feel like a betrayal. You decide to save him.

“I know, Julio,” you offer him a fake smile. “Thanks.”

You do know. Really…

***

...It’s so easy to forget when Diego’s lips are trailing fiery kisses over your mouth, your jaw, the crook of your neck. You forget all the reasons this isn’t a good idea--all of Julio’s unspoken warnings. Your mind is given over to your body’s needs, overcome with the pulsing secret inside you, the yearning to ride Diego’s love into a blinding light that will doubtlessly eclipse all others. 

The mop clatters to the floor beside you and you launch yourself into Diego’s arms, forcing him to support you or buckle beneath the sudden attack. He perches you up on the kitchen counter, never letting his lips leave yours. If you had room to think you might marvel at how quickly this man has conquered your shyness, your reserve, your logic. 

He breaks the kiss to whisper into your ear, “Would it kill you to wear something with a little more...access?”

He grinds his hips against you for emphasis. Even through the denim fabric of your jeans you can feel the sweet bulge of his erection and you mewl in wanton need, pressing your mouth into his stubbled cheek to muffle the mortifying sound. 

“Sorry,” you huff, your breath shaky and short, “mini dresses with holes cut out the sides aren’t really p-practical…”

The words stutter to a stop when Diego’s fingers go to the waist of your pants, popping the button open and lowering the zipper. He shoves his huge hand inside, cupping your sex in his warm palm. All thoughts of Francesca and her ridiculous outfits fly from your head. You grind against him with a needy wail, burying your face into his shoulder in embarrassment as pleas fall from your lips. 

“Oh...my god, Diego. Please, please, please…” 

Diego smirks and lets his fingers drag through your folds, circling your mound with a feather-light touch that forces you to thrust your hips to gain any friction. You groan in frustration against his shoulder. He uses his free hand to grasp your ponytail, wrapping your hair around his fist and pulling it back until your upturned face is exposed to him. He eyes glint and he grins arrogantly as he increases the pressure against your clit, rolling the sensitive flesh between his fingers, all the while watching your face as you come undone. You’re sure you look pathetic--mouth hung open in lust, eyes dazed and half-lidded--you wish you could hide from his knowing gaze but when you try it, Diego tightens his grip on your hair and shakes his head slightly.

“I’m gonna watch you come on my fingers, guapa,” he hisses and laughs when the words evoke another lustful moan from you. “You like that, huh?”

He keeps his thumb rubbing relentlessly against your clit as his fingers dive down to plunge inside you, thrusting away into your wet cunt until you’re quivering around him and nearly sobbing with your coming orgasm.

You suddenly hear Julio clearing his throat from the elevator entrance and your body immediately tenses in alarm. Diego’s hand stills and you give the smallest cry of protest. Oh, god, you’re so close. But this--being watched--might be Diego’s thing... but it is definitely not yours. You lock eyes with him and you see the realization in his.

“Julio!” he growls, looking over his shoulder, “Turn around!”

Diego turns back to you. He releases his grip on your hair and lets you hide your face against his shoulder, cradling your head and ducking down to whisper, “Come for me, now.”

He starts up again, rubbing, circling and pulsing his hand against your wet sex. His movements are frenzied but expert and you’re crashing into your orgasm in seconds, swallowing your cry and clinging with your arms and legs wrapped around him like a baby koala. He rubs his hands over your back soothingly and ducks down to kiss you.

Julio pipes up apologetically, “Jefe...we have that thing…”

Diego lets out a ferocious growl and nips your lower lip sharply enough to make you gasp, “Ouch, Diego!”

His eyes go soft and molten and he kisses you gently to make up for it. He leans back and your arms fall away from his shoulders, you’re both out of breath and flushed. 

“Okay,” Diego grunts, running his hands through his hair. He’s already transforming before your eyes into the steely, dangerous version of himself that he wears out into the world. His eyes fall back to yours and soften a bit as he says, “We probably won’t be back until after you leave for the day...”

Quelle romantique. You’re sitting there, looking utterly debauched with your hair a mess and your pants undone, smelling of sex… Diego really has drawn you into something whether you like it or not. Julio’s unspoken warning lingers in your mind. There’s no room in Diego’s life for a serious relationship. If that’s true then you’ll just have to learn to accept it. But you don’t want what this is to be entirely on his terms--frenzied exchanges between murders and business meetings. You guess if you want something more you’re going to have to ask for it.

“Maybe--” your voice sounds high and squeaky in your ears-- “afterwards you can come by my place. I’ll order some Chinese food and…”

Diego looks up from tucking his gun into the waist of his pants. His face is a comical blank.

“Your place?” he repeats.

“Yeah…” you smile playfully, letting your hand brush up the length of his muscled arm and resting your palm against the back of his neck. You can see Julio’s guarded, worried expression from the corner of your eye but you ignore him. “My place.”

My rules.

Diego looks half intrigued, half reluctant. In the end all he’ll give you is, “Maybe. If we don’t get done too late.”

You try not to look too deflated, certain you’ll be spending another night alone. 

“Well...text me if you’re coming and I’ll order the food.”

Diego looks unnerved as he leaves the penthouse. Julio casts you an exasperated look and you shrug your shoulders with a grimace of apology. You don’t know what’s wrong with you either.

***

Walking home from the train station that afternoon you have to shake your head and laugh at yourself for reveling in the luxury of being driven around this morning. You’re still a poor girl even if your bank account is looking a little healthier lately and you may or may not have a millionaire drug lord coming over later for snuggles and...you know. A giggle erupts from your throat and an elderly lady passing by gives you a mean glance. Whatever...your life is so weird you might as well go with it.

As you’re skipping up the steps to your apartment something shiny a little down the street catches your eye. You glance over and do a double take. Dang--someone must’ve won the lottery. A gleaming, midnight blue muscle car is parked a few cars down from your building.

Well...good for them, you think and forget all about it.

A/N: Omg! Whose car is that?? It’s Tommy’s!

Tag List:

@lockedoutofmyotherblog @1zashreena1​ @lannister-slings-and-arrows @glowingpena​ @flower-petal-blooming​ @symbiont13​ @pullthedamnlever​ @sparrows-books​ @joalsglasses​ @ishqinbbc​ @pre-schoolervengance​ @skys-luce-stellare @popculturepriestess​ @nolongertwo​ @ughwhyareyoulikethist​ @squidlywiddly87​ @damndamer0n​ @xboxdudett​ @khicks3