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purplesong1028 · 2 years

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The Perfect Storm

Chapter 6: The Tug

Miguel brings Pacho to his apartment in Tijuana, and has a full-on crisis before hooking up.

Rating: PG 13

Paring: Pacho/Miguel

Words: 2,077

The maid looks surprised and slightly nervous when she opens the door for them. Maybe she simply didn’t anticipate him to be here, or maybe she was doing things she shouldn’t be doing at his apartment. If this was another time, maybe Miguel would have cared more, but tonight, the Colombian behind him, closer than necessary, he just dismisses her and tells her to come back tomorrow evening.

Pacho leans back against the closed door and crosses his arms, head slightly tilted to the side, an intriguing mix of interest and challenge. “Tomorrow evening? That’s a generous amount of time.”

Miguel avoids Pacho’s amused gaze without thinking, but then forces himself to meet the other man’s eyes again. His palms feel a little wet, but he resists the urge to wipe them on his blazer.

“Do you want another drink?” He walks to the bar. That’s always a safe choice.

“No.” The smooth voice is right behind his shoulder, hot breath brushing the side of his neck.

He jumps and turns around. The next second, a pair of soft lips covers his.

Miguel hears himself making a surprised sound, but his heartbeats are way louder. His eyes are still open, and every tiny detail on Pacho’s face becomes alive from memory, from thick eyelashes to sharp cheekbones, still too fresh to be buried despite his best efforts.

The tip of a tongue touches his mouth, tentative and teasing, irresistibly delicious. He feels his own lips part as his eyes close, like a magic switch in his brain was flipped open, past memories and present reality mixed into one mesmerizing sensation.

The muscles on his back slowly relax against the bar, waist gently pressed against the smooth edge of marble.

He hears a chuckle, and then the tongue pulls away, not forgetting to give his lips another playful lick. He leans forward to chase it before he could stop himself.

“You know, you could have just told me you missed me.” Pacho presses their foreheads together, skillful fingers working a button open on his shirt.

Just one, just enough to expose his collarbones so the Colombian can ruthlessly sink his teeth in them.

A pained groan escapes his throat. Miguel grabs a handful of Pacho’s smooth hair and yanks hard. The other man surprisingly doesn’t fight him, seemingly satisfied to leave his neck alone after making a quick mark.

“What the fuck was that?!” He hisses as he touches the bright red bite mark on his body.

Pacho shrugs. It’s fucking unfair to still look that good when his hair is all messed up. “You didn’t mind a little bit of pain last time.”

Last time, Pacho bit his neck just like that, and he squeezed Pacho’s dick in response, the hot flesh throbbing in his palm…

Miguel doesn’t know how his face betrayed him, but the smirk on Pacho’s face grows increasingly more pleased.

“Come on then. Show me the bedroom.”

Miguel is honestly impressed at himself for finding a bedroom on his first try, since he has completely forgotten what this penthouse looks like. Maybe this isn’t the master bedroom, he can’t tell, but it looks big enough and has a full bathroom attached to it, so that’s good for tonight.

Pacho takes a quick glance around, eyes lingering on the king-sized bed. “Do the Arellanos know about this place?”

Miguel feels like he’s just been splashed by cold water, his body and mind coming to a halt at the potential dire threat.

Do they? He has never brought any of them here or told them about it, but this isn’t a safehouse, just a regular property, so it’s possible that Benjamín already found out about its existence.

What if someone has been in here before? What if there are cameras?!

No. That’s extremely unlikely. He has security here, and he has eyes in Tijuana too. Benjamín wouldn’t dare…even he hasn’t done anything like that to the Arellano’s properties in Guadalajara.

“Miguel.” Pacho calls him again, now in a serious demeanor like they’re in a business meeting, as if the new bite mark under his shirt doesn’t exist. “This is your place. I’m asking you: does anyone know?”

He should call it off. He hasn’t been here in years. How can he be sure? If this place isn’t secure…fuck, he doesn’t even want to imagine. However, admitting that in front of Pacho would mean he doesn’t trust his own security system in Mexico, that he can’t even feel protected in his own house. What does that say about him? What would Cali think?

“This is a secure location. No one’s listening.” He speaks before he runs out of time. If he takes too long to answer, it doesn’t matter what he says. He will just have to do a complete security check tomorrow, and hopefully he won’t find anything. But if he does, he’ll smash whatever he finds as well as the people who put them in here.

Pacho leans sideways on the dresser, eyes narrowed, clearly trying to figure out if he’s really as confident as he sounds.

“There are people living downstairs though.” Miguel shrugs, making it seem like he was hesitating for other reasons. “You know, regular people with ears.”

Pacho snorts, but his posture relaxes. “So? Do you plan to scream?”

Miguel feels his heart just hit his throat. He swallows it back down. “Do you?”

“Guess I won’t be able to.” Pacho pushes himself up from the dresser, and slowly paces to the bed. “What a shame.”

Miguel watches him take off his watch and place it on the nightstand. This is nothing. Pacho isn’t even showing any skin besides the already half-exposed chest. Yet somehow it feels more alluring than a model stripping down to her lingeries.

Meeting his eyes, Pacho then slips the ring off his finger, slow enough for Miguel to take a close look at those long fingers and remember how they felt against his body last time.

He feels his breath becoming faster, his blood starting to rush down. Should he do something? Who undressed first last time? Fuck, why can’t he remember anything when he needs it the most?

“Settle down. We have until tomorrow evening, remember?” Pacho takes off his necklace with the large golden cross. The metal touches the wooden nightstand, making a brisk sound. Then he smiles at Miguel, almost in a comforting way, but there’s only tease and enjoyment in his eyes. “Where are your manners? At least let your guest take a shower first.”

Miguel paces on the soft carpet, listening to the sound of water running. It hasn’t even been ten minutes, but it already feels unbearably long. He wants Pacho to come out right now so they can get on with…whatever they will do this time. Anything is better than waiting for something to happen.

His forehead starts to sweat, so he takes off his expensive blazer and throws it over the back of a chair.

Should he take more clothes off? He imagines the Colombian coming out of the bathroom wearing only a bathrobe, or a towel. Wouldn’t it be weird if he’s still fully dressed?

Suddenly he feels embarrassingly unprepared. He never bothered with those questions before. The women he paid for were willing to do all the work, whatever he wanted at the moment, undressing him slowly while leaving a trail of kisses, or simply unbuttoning his pants and going straight to business.

Would Pacho be willing to do the same? From what he could tell, the other man actually quite enjoyed taking initiative last time, but that thought doesn’t relax him at all. If anything, it makes him even more restless now.

He hears the bathroom door open.

He takes a deep breath and turns around.

Pacho walks out wearing a white bathrobe, hair still wet, tanned skin slightly flushed with heat. Miguel swallows, feeling his own cheeks turning hot. The robe isn’t even short, but this is still the most he’s ever seen from Pacho, since he couldn’t see anything last time.

Pacho walks to the bed and sits down comfortably. Miguel can’t see from this angle, but he just knows there’s nothing underneath that robe between Pacho’s legs.

“Are you always this nervous?” Pacho turns to meet his eyes with a smirk, a strand of wet hair falling on his forehead. “Doesn’t seem to fit your reputation.”

“Hard to match your reputation.”

It was meant to be a mild insult, but came out more like a compliment.

Pacho just shrugs. “Well, you better start practicing then.”

If he needed more provocation before, that definitely did the job. He strides towards the bed before he can think it through, and before he knows it, their lips meet again, his knee pushed between Pacho’s naked legs, his fingers intertwined in Pacho’s hair.

The familiar taste of alcohol and cigarettes is gone, replaced by a pleasant minty flavor, refreshing and natural, an enticing contrast.

Miguel deepens the kiss, shoving his tongue into the other man’s mouth while pressing his knee harder into the vulnerable flesh, feeling it harden against him. He expected Pacho would fight him, not used to being in a passive position, but the Colombian doesn’t appear to be bothered by his slight aggression at all. If anything, Pacho seems rather pleased by his eagerness, gently rocking against him, setting up a comfortable rhythm.

His shirt gets unbuttoned one by one, warm fingertips brushing his bare skin, from neck to chest, to abdomen, and further down…

He grabs Pacho’s hand before it reaches for his belt buckle.

Pacho breaks away from the kiss, blinking up at him with a questioning look. From this angle, he almost looks harmless, if Miguel can ignore the clear tease and desire in his eyes.

He hurries to unbuckle his own belt and slip out of his pants before one of the thousand reasons in his brain can stop him. Pacho doesn’t waste one second to reach for his dick as soon as it touches air.

It’s a little scary how he feels himself instantly growing larger in these warm, calloused hands. “Wow, you must have really missed me.” Pacho huffs, “what, getting tired of your beautiful young wife already?”

Miguel doesn’t talk about his wife while having sex with others. He knows some men like to complain about their boring wives at home while fucking some exciting new lover, but he’s never done that.

There was nothing to complain about María. She didn’t believe him when he told her that, which was understandable. He didn’t even know how to explain it to himself.

With Daniella, there’s also nothing to complain about, because he doesn’t really expect anything from her, so what can he possibly be unhappy about?

“You know it’s different.” He tells Pacho.

Pacho smiles and pulls him closer, pressing their hard desires tightly together. “Well, I would hope so.”

Miguel shrugs off his open shirt and moves them further up the bed, having no interest to continue this conversation. A sense of raw hungriness flashes across Pacho’s face as the Colombian sees his naked body, and Miguel feels like he’s about to burn up under Pacho’s unmasked desire.

A desire for his bare body and nothing else.

Many people might find that demeaning, but not him. Having someone want him like that, even if that someone is Pacho, makes his heart flutter in a way that it hasn’t done in years, sending a rush of tickling warmth through his whole body.

His face must have betrayed him somehow, because the next second, a hand reaches the back of his scalp and pushes him down, crushing their lips back together.

Miguel lets out a satisfied moan, his face tingles as Pacho takes the lead with that infuriatingly talented tongue. Seriously, how can anyone be this good at kissing?!

Miguel grabs Pacho’s shoulders and presses him into the soft mattress, and then slowly traces down along his strong arms, reaching for the hands.

With his heated brain, Miguel briefly considers pining both Pacho’s hands above his head, but then quickly realizes that’s not possible without a fight, a fight that he probably can’t win. So he settles with just holding them, a much more gentle gesture than he intended.

Pacho smiles against his lips, and then licks his cheek, playfully nudging his neck.

“Which way do you want it?”

And just like that, his mind goes blank again.

@naeviaanoai @mandaloria314 @ashlingiswriting @hausofmamadas @narcolini @cositapreciosa @criatividad-e @anunhealthydoseofangst @dashavau @drabbles-mc @sikkui @artemiseamoon (Let me know if you want to be added or taken off this list.)

#narcos #narcos mexico #narcos mexico fanfic #pacho herrera #miguel angel felix gallardo #pacho/miguel #pacho x miguel #pacho herrera fanfic #the perfect Storm

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purplesong1028 · 2 years

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Wrong in All the Right Ways

Chapter 10: Leyenda

Miguel miraculously negotiates himself out of the crisis. Amado leaves Pacho a special gift after their encounter last night.

Rating: General Audience

Pairing: Amado/Miguel, Amado/Pacho

Words: 3,001

Miguel is already awake when Tony knocks on his door to wake him up. Of course he is, since he didn’t sleep last night at all. How could he get any sleep when he had no idea where he was going, how long would he stay in one place, or what would happen next, at all? He tries to remind himself that this is the new norm now, that he’s on the run and will always be on the run, but at least he’s still alive right now, and that’s something. That should count.

He gets dressed, gets ready and calls Tony back in to hand him two duffel bags, one with cash, one with personal items, and these are the only ones that will go in his car.

Tony nods and walks away, and that’s when everything starts happening: screeching tires, yelling, gunshots… It feels surreal, which is weird because if anything, he should be used to all that, even when he was just a cop. But it’s different now because he was just getting ready to leave for good. He thought he had made it.

Instincts and old muscle memories take control at the moment. Miguel picks up a gun from the floor and starts firing back.

The other side has more men and bigger guns, but there’s no time to think about any of that strategically amid the chaos. Some men have come upstairs, and he kills the one chasing him. Other things must have happened after that, but he doesn’t remember how exactly he made it to the backyard completely on his own. He just didn’t stop. He can’t stop.

He doesn’t stop when Calderoni calls out from behind. He runs and negotiates, desperately trying to get out of this somehow, while the police commander puts a gun to the back of his head and orders him to kneel.

Miguel hears the gun click, and that’s when his brain suddenly becomes quiet, on the verge of an immediate death.

That’s when he’s able to think again, and when he can think, he thinks well.

For the past week, he’s been preparing himself for the end, to come to an acceptance of it. But why? Why should he take the fall, when these assholes who were actually responsible for Camarena’s death could go on with their lives? These high and mighty motherfuckers took millions from him but treated him like nothing more than a scapegoat to throw under the bus, to die, so they could sit at some fancy hall in Mexico City and act like nothing happened.

They might have thought they were done with him, but he’s not done with them.

“There are seven tapes.” He tells the commander, just one of his many effortless lies. “In two of them, he was asked about names of politicians involved with traffickers.”

He doesn’t need to look back to know something on Calderoni’s face must have changed. It’s a shame, really. These politicians were so scared for themselves that they tortured a DEA to death, but turns out the guy didn��t even know shit.

Well then good for him! A dead man can’t talk, so now it’s up to him to decide what Camarena said.

“They’re the names of important men, Commander, men like your boss.”

The barrel against this skull moves, barely detectable but he definitely feels it.

“So go ahead, shoot me, and tomorrow those names are released.”

The gun doesn’t go off. Of course it doesn’t. Miguel turns around with a subtle smile on his face.

“But save a bullet for yourself, because the system doesn’t like heroes.”

Amado wakes up naturally around 10 am. It’s one of these rare occasions when he opens his eyes to a perfect world: the bed is soft, the sunshine is gentle, the birds are chipping, and both his body and mind are well rested. That is until he sees the circles of bruises on his wrists. Then all the memories flashback: the sex, the bathrobe, the nightclub, the failed business meeting… The world is anything but perfect, and this beautiful morning is just a temporary illusion, nothing more than a short extension from a nice dream.

He rolls off the bed, still completely naked, feet touching the soft carpet. The white bathrobe is still laying on the floor, a few steps away from bed, just carelessly left there in the cold for the night. From this angle, it looks just like a regular piece of clothing, not worth any attention, yet when it’s neatly folded and wrapped in a gift box with golden ribbons, it somehow looks untouchable, pristine. Amado picks it up, sensing the cool, smoothness between his fingertips. He puts it back into the gift box and closes the lid. After all, he still wants it. It’s his.

Then, he sees the other gift box he brought here, the one he almost forgot about. He probably should just take it back to Mexico since Pacho didn’t even care enough to take it or ask what it was. It was nothing interesting anyway, some fine liquor, but the Colombian could get plenty of those on his own. Amado thinks about last night, the utter bliss and passion, but even more so, the words Pacho said.

You can’t call your own shots. You’re not ready.

No. Fuck that.

He grits his teeth, and takes the liquor bottles out.

When he walks out to one of the large living rooms, Pacho is sitting at the dining table with a cup of coffee.

“Morning.” The Colombian greets him with a big smile. “Care to join me for some breakfast?”

The table is full of food, and he can smell them all the way from where he’s standing, but as tempting as they are, he shouldn’t waste more time here. “Thanks, but I really should get going.”

“It won’t take long.” Pacho gestures at the chair across from him. “Please, it would be very rude of me to let a guest leave with an empty stomach.”

Amado sighs and drops his duffel bag on an empty chair. It’s fucking impossible to say no twice to this man. He sits down and drinks a few sips of orange juice.

“Did you sleep well afterwards?” Pacho asks casually, picking up a grape from the fruit platter.

“Yeah, pretty well.” Amado meets his eyes, just in time to see the purple fruit disappear behind his lips. “Your bed is comfortable.”

“So I’ve been told.” Pacho smiles with the grape still in his mouth, and that makes it look more cheeky than it’s supposed to be. “Glad you had a good time.”

He allows his gaze to wander freely on Pacho, who’s now dressed up again in an expensive shirt with complex patterns, but it’s different now. Now he’s seen what’s underneath, and he can still see everything even when they’re perfectly covered.

Pacho leans back against the chair, open and relaxed, like he’s intentionally giving Amado a better view.

“Well, if you ever miss the scenery,” Pacho glances at the plate of eggs he’s eating, and then looks up suggestively, “or food in Colombia, you still have my number.”

Amado meets his stare and smiles back. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

He hurries to finish his plate, which is delicious by the way, and then pours himself a cup of coffee.

“You never opened the gift I brought you. I left it in the bedroom. You should take a look later.”

He takes a small sip of coffee, closely observing Pacho’s expression, and he doesn’t miss it when those brown eyes light up with interest and curiosity.

Amado picks up his bag and stands up, feeling utterly satisfied, and for once in a long time, hopeful.

“A word of advice, if you would allow me.” Pacho calls out behind him, when he’s halfway through the large living room. He turns back silently.

“I would be careful if I were you.” Pacho stands up as well, but doesn’t move closer. “Felix trusted you the most, how would the Arellanos think about that when they become the boss?”

Amado frowns, meeting the other man’s firm stare. It looks serious but not at all threatening. If anything, it’s a well-intended and very rational warning, because whether he likes it or not, Pacho is absolutely right.

“Everything else aside, I would hate not to have another…encounter.” The pause is precise and intentional, so is the way Pacho softens his tone, and he feels like something just tickled the inside of his chest.

“I know.” His voice sounds deeper than intended. “Thank you.”

Pacho simply nods and turns away.

Calderoni holds the open bag, looking at the five tapes inside. “You have the other two?”

Miguel doesn’t miss the suspicion in the commander’s voice. This is still an interrogation, just under a different format and with a different goal.

“Of course. I had to put them away somewhere else.” He lies with ease, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I can’t tell you where they are, Commander. You understand that, right?”

The way Calderoni stares at him in total disdain and rage makes Miguel wonder if he ever offended him personally without knowing, cause why else would this man be against him on such a personal level? He reminds himself to look into that later, but now isn’t the right time to ask.

“You can listen to them if you want to make sure.” He gestures at an audio cassette in the living room. “As I said, these will be enough to give the Americans what they want.”

Calderoni closes the bag, apparently not interested in listening. “And I suppose you can also give them who they want.”

That makes him silent for a while, not because he doesn’t know the answer. He knows, and he knows too well. There is only one option, only one person besides him who’s important enough to take the fall and look convincing on the surface. This is someone who hasn’t done a single bad thing to him, someone who absolutely doesn’t deserve it.

But he doesn’t deserve it either. He didn’t give the order to kidnap and torture a fucking DEA. The person who did will never take the blame for it, and that’s just how this fucking world works.

“Yeah, Don Neto. He’s in Puerto Vallarta now.” His voice is calm and even, but he senses the subtle shakiness in his chest as his heart beats rapidly. “He has 30 to 40 armed men with him. Your team can easily take them, and you…you need to capture him alive, for the Americans to see.”

Calderoni scoffs, cold and mocking. “One day, you will run out of people to sell.”

Maybe, but better than having someone sell him first.

“Commander. There’s something else.” He calls out as Calderoni turns to walk away. “I think we also need to discuss our long term plan here, don’t you agree?”

Calderoni glares at him as if he just grew another head. “You sold out someone to save your own ass, and what? You think we’re on the same fucking team now?!”

“But we are. The men on the other two tapes? They’re not stupid. Once your men arrest Neto and I walk free, these assholes in Mexico City will figure out what’s going on in no time.” He shrugs, carefully taking a few steps closer. “We are on the same team now, Commander, like it or not.”

Calderoni looks like he wants to kill him right now, with his bare hands, but that doesn’t scare Miguel anymore. There are a lot more who want the same thing. They just aren’t able to do it.

“After this is taken care of, I would like to borrow your army for a trip to Ensenada.”

The desert in Juárez feels familiar and welcoming as they land. Amado opens the cabin door, and waves of hot air strike him on the face immediately. He used to be so annoyed by it, but now he feels a sense of comfort, like he’s grounded again, in a safe way.

He greets the two guys waiting here to pick them up, but ignores their questions when they ask about his trip. He doesn’t want to share details with anyone he doesn’t completely trust. After all, this trip to Cali as a whole is supposed to be a secret. The drive back is mostly silent, which he appreciates, but there’s something else in the air that he can’t identify. It’s like the silence isn’t out of respect or consideration for him, but these guys don’t know what to say or how to act around him anymore.

A part of him wants to just ask them what the fuck’s going on, but he eventually decides against it. He will see Acosta in no time, and with everything that’s going on, it’s better to talk directly to the person in charge of the plaza. If he doesn’t even want to share anything with these guys himself, how can he trust whatever they tell him?

They pull into the gate just when he’s deep in his thoughts, and Acosta’s right there outside, wearing his full cowboy costume, brushing that white horse.

Amado gets out of the car, and Acosta just greets him with a simple nod. For a brief moment, he almost wants to say something cheeky or make a joke, but he manages to stop himself promptly, because that would have been a disaster. This isn’t Pacho or even Miguel. This is fucking Acosta.

He needs to get his head back to the right place.

“Hey, how are things going?” He walks over to Acosta and gives the horse a few friendly pets.

Acosta looks at him up and down, and then turns to look at the car where the two guys who picked him up earlier are now taking out his luggage.

“They didn’t tell you.”

Amado feels his heart drop. “Tell me what?”

Acosta takes off his cowboy hat, and then stands up, looking at him eye to eye. “They got Neto, about two hours ago.”

“They…got him?”

“No, they didn’t kill him.” Acosta quickly denies what he’s implying. “They found him in Puerto Vallarta and arrested him. I heard they’re taking him back to Guadalajara.”

“Oh.” The word comes out as a long sigh. He leans sideways on the ranch and takes off his sunglasses. “Well, we knew it was going to happen, right? Could have been worse.”

Acosta doesn’t respond, and he’s fine with letting silence surround them. Amado puts a cigarette between his lips and offers the pack to Acosta. The older man gives him a somewhat judgmental look, probably criticizing his choice of cigarettes, but takes one regardless.

Sunset paints the clouds into a variety of glorious shades, from burning red to dark orange. The edge between sky and ground gets blurry, like the clouds are lit up on fire along with the tips of their tiny cigarettes.

“How did it go with Cali?” Acosta finally asks, when the first glimpse of darkness starts to fall.

He blows out a large puff of smoke and huffs, without actually answering the question. He doesn’t need to.

“You gave it a shot,” Acosta drops the finished cigarette on the ground and steps it out, “and you made it back alive.”

Amado glances at him from the side under the last glimpse of sunlight, trying to figure out if he really meant what he said. But then he remembers: this is Acosta. The stubborn asshole always says what he means! However, that only brings more confusion. Is the bar really that low? The only expectation from a business meeting is to come back alive?!

“All of you motherfuckers with your big ideas, big plans…” Acosta takes out another cigarette from his own pocket and lights it up, clearly enjoying it a lot more than the one Amado gave him earlier. “All of you, will just do anything to get it.”

“I didn’t do anything!” He snaps, all of a sudden feeling incredibly insulted. Why the fuck does everyone think they can read him like an open book? What makes them believe they know him?

Acosta turns to him with a firm stare, not offended, just genuinely curious, and a bit challenging.

He sighs and takes a small step back, easing the tension. “I meant I didn’t agree with what they wanted. That was why we didn’t get the deal.”

He intentionally left out what exactly Pacho wanted, because he wasn’t sure how to explain to Acosta why he didn’t want to kill Miguel, so much that he threw away an opportunity to put Juárez on top of all plazas.

He can’t even fully explain to himself.

Acosta tilts his head slightly, barely noticeable under the cowboy hat, and for a moment, it seems like he’s not going to let that go easily, which makes sense. Why wouldn’t he want to know what Cali’s condition was that they couldn’t meet?

Eventually, however, he just adjusts his hats and turns away, taking another long drag of his cigarette.

“Well, whatever you didn’t agree to, Tijuana did.”

“They’re still having that meeting?”

“Two days later, in Ensenada.”

“You two vetted this gift two days ago, right?” Pacho taps his fingers on the black gift box, looking up at the two young sicarios standing in front of his armchair.

“Yes, Patrón.” One of them, presumably the braver one speaks. “Is there a problem?”

“What’s in it?”

They share a look with each other, both confused and nervous. “Two bottles of whiskey. They were both sealed when we checked.”

“That’s it?”

“…Yes, Patrón.”

“Alright, thank you.” Pacho gives them a comforting nod. “You’re free to go.”

The instant relief on their pretty faces is amusing, but not nearly as amusing as what’s inside the box.

Pacho takes the lid off once he’s alone again, smiling fondly at the gift.

A black leather pilot jacket.

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#narcos #narcos fanfic #narcos Mexico #narcos mexico fic #pacho herrera #amado carrillo fuentes #miguel angel felix gallardo #pacho x amado #amado x miguel

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purplesong1028 · 2 years

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The Perfect Storm

Chapter 5: The Choice

Miguel has a daring proposal for Cali, but the meeting takes a shocking turn before he gets a chance to discuss business.

Rating: General Audience

Paring: Pacho/Miguel

Words: 3,084

His problem isn’t volume; it’s cash flow. It’s not rocket science. Miguel has known that for over a year now, and that was exactly what he told Matta on his birthday several months ago, but resolving his cash flow issue will take time. He’s contacted Guerra several times now, but that fucking old bastard hasn’t responded. Doubling the shipments from Cali does bring him more money in the short term, so he’s been able to keep the plazas happy recently, at least happy enough to shut up.

However, as long as the payment cycle in this business doesn’t improve, the amount of money those Colombians owe him is still piling up, so in the long run he’s still losing. It’s like his organization has turned into an insatiable monster who sucks in more blood every day but keeps growing fatter at a faster speed, so it never has enough blood to sustain itself.

He needs to talk to Pacho again. Fuck, why does everything always come back to the same conclusion? Is there really nothing else he can do? Besides, even if Pacho somehow agrees to talk, how is he going to convince Cali to pay him sooner? Pacho didn’t agree last time, so why would that change now?

Miguel takes out a cigarette and lights it. At this point he can do that as easily as breathing, maybe it’s because of nicotine, or maybe just because he can think better when he has something random to do, something that occupies his body but doesn’t require any brain power.

Everyone needs something, and Cali is no different. He just needs to figure out what exactly that thing is, so he can make the right offer. But fuck, what is it? It’s not money, not power, not control, all of which they have more than he does.

Wait, that’s it. He doesn’t have more than them, but someone else does! Miguel thinks back about what Azul told him several weeks ago. Escobar bombed them and it hit pretty close, so from what he knows about Cali, or at least about Pacho, they are not going to just sit back and take it. That means they are at war with Escobar.

War is bad for business, unless it’s a win. Everyone knows that. Believe it or not, he can make it easier for Cali to win, if they give him what he wants first.

Miguel takes the phone and dials Pacho’s number.

Pacho picks up after it rings three times, and he suddenly realizes that’s a pattern, unless in unusual circumstances like last time.

“You’ve been calling a lot more frequently.” The Colombian says that with a flat tone, neither a happy comment nor a complaint, like he’s just stating a fact.

“I need to talk to you about something. It’s important.”

“Go ahead then. I’m listening.”

“This really isn’t something to discuss over the phone.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Any chance we can meet?”

“Alright, then come to Cali.”

“Look, you don’t want me to bring DEA’s attention to you guys, right?” That’s a valid excuse. With how intensely the DEA is chasing him right now, he will bring more risk to Cali if he travels there, but that’s not the real reason for him. Having this negotiation in Cali will naturally put him at disadvantage. There might be more than one Cali godfather there, and they can decide when and how the meeting will take place, and he might be under their surveillance. In conclusion, he will be at their home where they are in control, and he can’t have that when he’s about to ask again for what he already asked once.

Pacho scoffs, sounding not at all satisfied with the reason he offered. “So what? You expect me to take a trip every time you want to talk?”

Miguel bites his bottom lip, and after a few seconds of hesitation, he decides to push a little harder. He knows that’s highly risky, but what’s not? He can’t be in this business if he doesn’t like risks. “It also wouldn’t be such a bad thing for you to get out of Cali for a little while, no?”

Pacho doesn’t respond immediately, and when he does, his voice becomes clearly firmer, with a threatening undertone. “If you want to say something, just say it.”

“I’m easier to deal with than Escobar, right? And that’s what I want to talk about with you.” He can feel his heart beating faster. He’s never pushed this far with Pacho before, and doing so right now brings him a fascinating mixture of fear and excitement.

“You, want to talk about Escobar, with me.” Pacho doesn’t even phrase that as a question, like he’s literally repeating back to a little kid who doesn’t know what they’re talking about.

Miguel smiles as he confirms with ease. “I do. Are you interested?”

“I sure am now.” The way Pacho says that with unmasked curiosity makes him wonder if the Colombian is a little impressed, or still in utter disbelief.

“The Arellanos are having a party in Tijuana on Thursday night. Sorry it’s a longer trip for you than Guadalajara.” He doesn’t need to say that last part, but he feels like he needs to offer some kind of courtesy or added explanation, since Pacho agreed to come to Mexico.

“Yes, I’m aware.” Pacho says unironically, which somehow makes it even more awkward. “I’ll be there, but it better be an interesting conversation.”

Miguel exhales deeply after he hangs up. This isn’t going to be easy, not just with Pacho. He knows why Benjamín is throwing this party: the Arellanos want to speak with him, about wanting more products, or about their conflicts with Sinaloa, maybe both. Either way the party is just a front, an excuse, just like his own birthday party a few months ago, so Benjamín would certainly not be pleased with him turning Arellano’s party into an opportunity to talk to Pacho.

He could have just asked Pacho to meet privately in Guadalajara on a different day, but he doesn’t want to. There’s no logical explanation of it besides he simply doesn’t want to meet Pacho privately. It’s extremely stupid, he knows, but he also knows that scenario alone will still stir so many unwanted emotions and cloud his judgments. He will get over it soon, but not yet, so he can’t take that risk now.

The next two days pass super slowly, not because he doesn’t have much to do, but other things don’t matter nearly as much as the upcoming big event that will determine the future of his organization, or rather, the survival of it.

Miguel was expecting Pacho to arrive very late just like he did last time, so he could talk to Benjamín first and figure out whatever Tijuana wanted. However, to his surprise and everyone else’s, the slick silver sports car pulls over by the entrance almost as soon as the party starts. Not many people other than the Arellanos are there yet, except himself and Amado, who was his ride here.

Both Benjamín and Amado shoot him a confused glance, but he honestly doesn’t know more than they do. He told them he asked Pacho to come, but it’s not like he can fucking control when the Colombian chooses to get here!

Pacho walks towards them, eyes directly fixed on him and him only, so Miguel has no choice but to take a few steps forward, although this isn’t even his party.

“Thank you for the invite, Miguel Ángel.” Pacho shakes his hand first, and then turns to Benjamín. “Nice party. I like the large pool in the back.”

Benjamín also shakes hands with Pacho, and they exchange a few rounds of pleasantries. Honestly, Miguel is glad that this is Benjamín’s party, because he doesn’t even want to think about what would happen if fucking Palma or Acosta were the host. At least Benjamín is able to keep a civil conversation going even when he’s displeased inside.

“As much as I would like to enjoy all these,” Pacho turns back to him, “you have something rather important to discuss, right?”

“Give us one minute.” Miguel gives Benjamín a nod first, and then leads Pacho away from the group, around a large fountain.

He really doesn’t want to talk to Pacho before hearing what Benjamín wants to say, because first, that’s just extremely rude, which doesn’t help his relationship with Tijuana. Second, and more importantly, if he makes it look like Cali is his number one priority, that will make him look weak in front of the plazas, and that is absolutely unacceptable.

“I’m glad you came, but this is still Benjamín’s party, yeah? You and I are both in Tijuana. We don’t have to steal their spotlight this early on.” He gestures to their surroundings, trying to play it casual, like a harmless joke. “Why don’t you have a drink first? Maybe check out the pool?”

Pacho lifts his eyebrows, not even in an offended manner, just truly surprised. “You invited me all the way to Mexico, and you want to talk to someone else first?”

Miguel resists the strong urge to roll his eyes, finding it very difficult to not show frustration. Is Pacho’s time so fucking valuable that he can’t wait ten minutes? Why does he think he can walk into any party whenever he wants, and instantly become the center of attention?

“Look, don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t tell me who I talk to first.” That came out a lot more aggressively than he intended, but it’s too late to take it back, so he silently swallows and keeps his posture.

“I don’t,” Pacho moves one step closer, calm and steady, hands in pockets, yet still looks deadly threatening, “and you don’t tell me to wait.”

With that, the Colombian turns on his heels and walks towards the direction of the entrance where he just came in a few minutes ago. On the other side of the fountain, Benjamín and Amado are staring in shock and confusion.

Something in him snaps.

“I did last time.” He says, already regretting it as the words come out of his mouth. “And you waited.”

He remembers the elevator ride, how he asked Pacho to hold the door and wait, while he told his securities to take the night off. He remembers everything that happened afterwards as much as he tries to forget, all the mesmerizing details reminding him, torturing him day and night, despite his best effort to bury them. They’ve been building, boiling under the surface but he’s been ignoring them, so now everything just erupted like a volcano, at the worst time possible.

Pacho stops walking, and Miguel feels his heart stop too. When Pacho turns around, he seriously expects the Colombian to magically pull a gun out of nowhere and shoot him in the face.

But Pacho doesn’t looks like he’s about to commit murder, or any kind of violence. The man’s fucking smiling, not a cold smirk, an actual smile as if he just heard something he really liked, and that’s even creepier.

Miguel almost wants to back away when Pacho approaches him again, still smiling, eyeing him up and down like a hunter appreciating an animal before taking the shot.

Pacho stops right in front of him, barely a few inches away. “What did you mean by that?”

“It wasn’t…” He forces himself to take a deep breath. His hands are sweating. “I didn’t mean for it to come out like that.”

“So what did you mean?”

“Nothing. It didn’t mean anything.” This must be the worst lie ever told in human history, but it’s still better than admitting the truth. “I was just trying to stop you from leaving before we could talk.”

Pacho laughs, eyes sparkling with amusement, but with a sense of cruelty underneath. He has seen that look before, from maniacs who actually take pleasure from torture.

“Well, if you’re so persistent…” Pacho gently brushes the opening of his jacket, twirling the button between his fingers, and it makes his breath hitch, his stomach burn.

“Go talk to whoever you want, I’ll wait.”

Benjamín doesn’t know what the fuck just happened, so of course when Pacho walks away and takes a seat at the bar, Benjamín comes over.

Miguel tries to pay close attention to what Benjamín’s saying, if anything as a distraction for himself, but he can’t, not with Pacho still being here and waiting. Waiting to do what, he doesn’t know, but it certainly won’t be just talking.

Part of him feels like he might have just signed his own death sentence, so when Benjamín said Ramón almost lost an eye during a fight with Sinaloa, Miguel didn’t even have the heart to point out the obvious lie. Honestly, it was better than what he came up with earlier.

“From now on, Sinaloa will pay 10% tax for everything they move through Tijuana.” It’s not the worst compromise, and hopefully it will keep both plazas quiet for some time.

“Thank you, Miguel Ángel.” Benjamín says with genuine satisfaction and gratitude. “And about the product, we can take on…”

“Excuse me. We have some very important unfinished business here.”

Pacho suddenly walks right in between them, cutting Benjamín off mid sentence. Within a second, everyone around them falls deadly silent. Benjamín stands there with his mouth slightly open, seemingly too astounded at the moment to take offense. Ramón strides towards them from a few feet away, but thankfully Amado grabs him by the arm, stopping him from making an even bigger scene.

Pacho doesn’t move an inch, as if the whole event is meaningless background noise. “Don’t we, Miguel Ángel?”

The way Pacho stares at him right now really makes him worry that he might get strangled to death right here, on Arellano’s property. He finishes the rest of the whiskey in his glass.

“Yeah?”

“Good.” Pacho brings a hand up to clutch his shoulder, and then slowly leans in. He swallows, silently tightening all the muscles to stop himself from flinching, and prepares to hear whatever dire threat the Colombian whispers to him.

“Tell everyone you’re leaving right now, and I’ll let you fuck me.”

Miguel doesn’t know how to explain what just happened in his head. He didn’t even know it was possible, but it felt like he passed out internally while standing and conscious, and just woke up to reality again.

Everyone is still standing in the same position as before, so it couldn’t have been more than a minute or so, but from the look on their faces, his silence is already too long for their comfort. Benjamín cautiously takes a step back from them; Amado is still holding onto Ramón’s arm, but also giving him a very concerned look from a distance.

Miguel adjusts his perfectly fitting jacket, trying to calm his racing heart. No one heard what Pacho just whispered except him. He can just pretend nothing happened. He turns to Pacho and forces out a short laugh. “You can’t be serious.”

Pacho simply keeps staring at him in silence, and all of a sudden, he has an epiphany. Of course Pacho is serious. This is exactly what the Colombian wants! If he does what Pacho tells him to do, there’s no denying how badly he wants the sex, but if he doesn’t, it means he’s too afraid to say yes. For either way he chooses, he can’t win.

The crowd grows visibly more rattled. Even Ramón looks a bit concerned now!

“So?” Pacho speaks again, urging him to make a decision. “What’s it going to be?”

Everyone is watching. He can’t back down. There is no real choice here.

He tightens his grasp on the empty whisky glass, and grabs Pacho’s upper arm with the other hand to move him out of the way, so he’s facing Benjamín again.

“Sorry Benjamín, something urgent just came up. We have to leave now.” Miguel hands the empty glass to a waiter who’s brave enough to approach them. “It’s a nice party. Tell everyone to keep having fun.” As if that’s even possible.

He turns to Pacho again and meets his eyes. He doesn’t miss the glimpse of surprise under all that smugness, and that makes him happy, almost in a vicious way, knowing that maybe Pacho also didn’t expect him to go this far.

“Shall we?” He gestures at the large front gate, in an exaggeratedly polite manner.

Pacho doesn’t seem to be affected by his subtle mocking tone. “After you.”

They walk out side by side, and only when they’re completely outside of the property, Miguel starts to realize there are a bunch of details he hasn’t even thought about. Are they getting in the same car? Where the hell are they even going?!

“I suppose you must have some place in Tijuana.” Pacho leans on a wall and takes out a cigarette, somehow just reading his mind.

He does, but he hasn’t been there himself in over two years. Has anyone even been taking care of that apartment?

Pacho blows out a puff of smoke and chuckles. “What, too many houses to keep track of?”

It doesn’t sound malicious, and at this point, he kind of figures that’s just how Pacho jokes or flirts, which is fucking awful. At the same time, he can’t help but wonder, does Pacho really feel so safe to just go anywhere with him in Mexico? Is he not seen as a threat at all?

“Come on, Miguel Ángel.” Pacho drops the half finished cigarette and steps on it. “Do you always take this long before getting into action?”

He’s about to lose his temper when his driver pulls over, giving him a well-timed distraction.

“Are you getting in?” Miguel asks Pacho as the driver opens the door for him.

Pacho smiles and walks towards his own sports car right behind. “Lead the way.”

The party is still silent for quite a while after Miguel and Pacho left. Ramón doesn’t like that. Who likes a dead party?

“What, did they go have a fucking duel or something?”

It’s obviously a joke, but Benjamín gives him that look which Ramón has seen him give to little kids.

“Tranquilo hermano.” He laughs and pats Benjamín on the shoulder and walks to the bar. If he’s the only fun person in this entire fucking business, so be it.

Tag list: @ashlingiswriting @narcolini @yourlocalspacewitxch @drabbles-mc @mandaloria314 @alreadywritten @sikkui @cherixrosa @cositapreciosa @criatividad-e @dashavau @anunhealthydoseofangst (let me know if you want to be added or removed from the tag list of this story)

#narcos #narcos mexico #narcos fic #narcos mexico fic #pacho herrera #pacho herrera fanfic #miguel angel felix gallardo #pacho/miguel #pacho x miguel

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artemiseamoon · 3 years

Text

Sin

Chapter 3

Miguel x F reader | Pacho x f reader

All fic info and warnings | chapter 1 | chapter 2 | next | AO3

Fic moves to A03 on the next update (coming soon) previews will post to tumblr

Words: 3,287

⚠️Warnings: building a drug empire, sexual situations, acts and language, multiple partners, death, kidnapping.

‼️As always I do not condone the actions of real life persons or this lifestyle. This is just fiction inspired by the show and the handsome actors. This will be my last disclaimer on this going forward I made it very clear where I stand, and its very clear i’m just writing FICTION and in no way saying Pacho was not a gay man. Those upset about this, leave me the f alone and do literally anything else but complain in my inbox. I will block you.

✨This chapter: We go down memory lane with the reader as she reflects on her life, Miguel and how she ended up where she is today.

AN: You can read her as an OC if you prefer.

As always, your media consumption is your choice, your responsibility, not mine. Minors DNI. Don’t read what you don’t like. This is not to glorify drug dealers, the lifestyle, the real life persons or cheating.

2 HOURS EARLIER

You watched Miguel as he paced the room. Lingering near the window, you tried to gauge the extent of his anger before engaging. With each step he takes, the vibe in the room grows increasingly tense.

He finally stops pacing. Miguel leaned over the small kitchen table and pressed his hands flat against the surface. When he looks up at you, you can see rage in his dark eyes.

“Where were you?”

Shit. Of course, he came back to my room.

HIs eyes blazed with emotion and suspicion. Miguel stands and comes over to you. He crosses his arms over his chest and stands close enough to kiss you, his body pressing into yours. But there’s no kiss, no touching. He continues to stare daggers into you,

He pushes on, “20 minutes ago. Where were you?”

You walk over to the mirror and take the towel off your hair. You had to act normal, it was the only way he’d back off.

“Who wouldn’t need air and a drink after that Miguel?” You put the towel down and meet his suspicious gaze through the reflection, “that shit was intense. Now we’re backed into a fucking corner.”

You see a small shift in his eyes, he places his hands in his pockets.

Turning around, you lean back against the table and face him head on, “I needed a break. A drink and a walk to clear my head and calm my nerves.”

Miguel silently studies you. You stay alert, making sure to keep your expression steady and your body language relaxed. All it would take is one slip up and he would ask even more questions.

Whenever Miguel questioned you excessively or pressed too hard, you’d get upset. So, your next move is one you’d normally do anyway. You push past him and walk over to the bed where you previously laid out an outfit.

“If you’re going to be an asshole, just go. Let me get dressed in peace.” You barely make it past him when he grabs your forearm, you stand shoulder to shoulder and make eye contact, “Miguel what the fuck!?”

Grabbing your hips, he places you in front of him and takes the belt of the robe in his hands. Slowly, he unties the knot, keeping his eyes locked on yours until it's untied. Holding the belt with one hand, he tugs your forward and ghosts his lips against the length of your neck,

“Where, exactly, did you go?” He asked.

Your breath hitches. Miguel knew how sensitive your neck is, this was unfair, he was playing dirty. The last thing you needed was to be turned on right now, but you were, and your body was still on fire from Pacho.

Miguel brings one hand to your neck and grips it with mild pressure as he uses his other to flick the bathrobe open. You’re breathing faster now, pulse racing, your skin is hot. He brushes his fingertips against your thighs and watches the way your chest rises and falls to his touch.

There are a couple of things Miguel loves to do for stress relief; smoke, drink, assert his dominance, and fuck. You're pretty sure you know which one he wants now. He slides his hand down from your neck, over your breast and under the robe to your lower back.

“You better not be lying to me.” He warns before biting the fleshy part of your ear.

You close your eyes and moan as he pinches your nipples with the perfect amount of pressure. Biting your lower lip, you lean into him as he slides his hand between your thighs.

His lips still lingering near your ear, he whispers, “open your legs.”

Submitting, you do as you are told. His name falls from your lips as he brushes his finger against your clit. You drop your head and try to speak,

“I t- told you -a walk,” you moan as he slides two fingers inside of you.

You melt to his touch as he uses his fingers perfectly, the perfect speed, perfect rhythm.

You’re instantly wet and unable to speak. This devil knew how to touch you, and just like every time before you were falling for it. Miguel continues to pump his fingers inside of you, he moves his other hand from you back and roughly grabs your face, pulling you into a ravenous kiss.

You feel his erection pressing into you as Miguel guides you both toward the bed. He feels good, he feels really good and everything in you is pulsing for him, hungry for him. You've been dreaming of this, having them both so close together, now it's happening.

But, your hunger for Miguel may not be enough; you're turned on but also tired, dead tired. In your short time together, Pacho did a number on you. Now, you don't know if you're up for whatever Miguel has in store for you.

Recovery time is a must, especially after Pacho. You love having him inside of you, but he's bigger and thicker than Miguel. You needed some time to come down from Pacho, and unlike last time, you won't have it.

Just as you grow more concerned, Miguel kisses you. It's one of those soul stealing, earth shattering kisses. When the back of your legs hit the edge of the bed, you jerk away from the kiss and grab his shoulders. “D-don't we have to leave?”

“Querida,” Miguel kisses the length of your neck, “we leave when I say we leave.”

NOW

Miguel didn’t really sleep. It was always an issue for him, even more so when he became the boss. The few times you saw him actually resting was when he was next to you. As for his trophy wife? He was likely not sleeping there either, even if he was in bed next to her.

You carefully climb out of the bed and slip back into the robe and a pair of slippers. Quietly, you open the balcony door and close it behind. You take a seat in the lounge chair.

The sky is a beautiful blend of dark blue and purple as daylight is replaced by night. You don’t know if it was meeting Pacho or getting back with Miguel, but you’ve been more reflective than usual, and thinking about how every step you took led to this.

Flashback - 7 Years ago

Your long history with Miguel started in your early school years. You grew up in the same town but didn’t know each other well or share the same friends. After High School, you moved away for a better education and in efforts to do something more with your life.

You did well for yourself and were on the right track until you received the call home. After years of pressure and threats, your grandfather and father made a decision to go corrupt. It was a decision that would change your lives forever and brought you back to Sinaloa.

Despite your efforts to sway them in another direction, you knew the truth. Once someone was in, they were in. Your family was never rich, in fact you bordered on the line of poor for most of your childhood, but the men got into politics to tried to make a difference. But like many families, the pressure, or temptation for a better life won and now you were rubbing elbows with questionable businessmen, politicians and drug dealers.

You even met your fiancé in this world. Falling in love made it a little easier to repress your disgust and disappointment that this was your life now. And despite your best efforts, you started to get seduced by life. It was nice having everything you could ever want or need; it was nice not the struggle.

After two years back in Sinaloa, you were deeper into life than expected and getting married in two months. Around this time, Miguel came back into your life, your father hired him as head of security and despite not having much of a past together, a friendship formed.

To say your family accumulated a number of enemies was an understatement, and you paid the first big price of this one month before your wedding. While sneaking away on a trip with your fiancé, you were ambushed and taken, your fiancé killed before your eyes. To this day it was one the worst days of your life.

It took Miguel a day to find you. You’ll always remember the feeling of seeing his face as he bust through the door and took you in his arms.

In the months after, Miguel kept a closer eye on you, and he was one of the few people you felt safe with. Your connection deepened and over time other feelings started to blossom for your handsome protector, you were falling in love with him. Nothing physical, aside from small touches, happened until the private New Year's Eve party.

Flashback to the party

When the night finally ended, and everyone left, you retreated upstairs to one of the libraries. It had your favorite balcony in the whole place, and no one really came up here, it was a nice spot to be alone. These parties were draining, and you were relieved everyone was gone.

Standing on the balcony, you observed the landscape. From here, you can see your old town. The sight always makes you think about your two lives, the past life over there in that little house and the present in this massive mansion.

You’re only outside for a few minutes when you hear someone approach, you looked over your shoulder to see Miguel leaning into the doorway,

“Hey.” He smiled.

You turned around fully and took him in with your eyes, the top button of his shirt is open, he looks good in his suit. Miguel takes one step onto the balcony, his brown eyes never leaving yours, “That's a nice dress Mija.”

You grinned and ran your hands slowly over the dress, “I agree”

Miguel approached you, then taking your face in his hands. Excitement flutters deep in the pit of your stomach as you gaze into his hungry eyes.

Miguel slowly drew you closer, until his lips met yours. You kiss him back without hesitation as you embrace one another. The sweet careful kiss quickly intensified, growing more passionate, all-consuming. Your body was pulsing with desire when the kiss broke, you both stopped to catch your breath.

Still holding you close, Miguel caressed the length of your neck with his fingertips while gazing deeply into your eyes,

“I have the weekend off,” he kissed your bare shoulder, then the other, “come with me.”

A giddy feeling washed over you as you gripped him tighter, your smile reached your eyes, “yes. I’ll go with you.”

Flashback over

In the beginning, things with Miguel were good, really good. He was your man and he treated you like his Queen. You saw a side of him that no one else saw. Maybe you were so blinded by your love for him, you never saw the signs. Maybe you never saw the true price you’d pay for loving him until it was too late.

You were at his side as he rose in power and did the impossible, defying all those who doubted him. Miguel's success was impressive, and he grew quickly. But with success came issues. Though you never officially married, it felt like you were, you lived like you were.

The first clear sign of trouble started with the long nights he’d spend away from home, then the distance. You had an agreement early on; you were exclusive. In spite of that, with his rise it became clear, Miguel was fooling around.

The attention, romantic dates, hand holding, singing in the kitchen as you made dinner together - it all happened less and less. Soon you felt like an afterthought. All of this drew you to the decision you made the day you left him. You swore off Miguel and Sinaloa for good.

In your two years away, you started a new life, a good life. You heard from friends back home that he was married, had a kid and was continuing to rise in the business. Even though you did your best to move on, you still loved him, in a way, you felt like part of you was still in Sinaloa with Miguel.

Though you didn’t see Miguel, you had your suspicions he was keeping tabs on you. A passing car, the way a guy looked at you. His reach was far, and it wouldn't have surprised you if he did have someone keeping an eye on you.

You didn’t see him again in person until you returned home for your grandfather's funeral. When Miguel stops by the house two days after, you sit in the backyard and talk for the first time in years.

In that conversation you find out he’s divorced now. His wife left him. Miguel always had his eye on expansion, and you knew this was only the beginning, he would reach higher, he would want more. Though he was highly successful, he wasn’t stopping anything soon.

Then he asked the question. He wanted you back, not just as his woman, but as a trusted ally in his business. It was hard to say no to Miguel, even when you wanted to. So, you said yes. Not just out of pressure alone, you missed him, you missed your life with him.

Being with him was like riding a rollercoaster, the peak was beautiful, exciting, life changing. It felt so good to be back you almost forget how bad it can get.

After a few months, Miguel surprised you and proposed. Despite how much you loved him, you knew it was far worse to be his wife, so you declined. Miguel didn't take it well and for the second time, you parted ways.

You knew with all your heart if Miguel asked years ago, if that sweet attentive romantic you fell in love with asked, you would have said yes. But this Miguel? You may have willingly made many mistakes but being his wife wouldn't be one of them.

After the rejection, Miguel wasted no time starting his second marriage, it was like the biggest loudest fuck you. And when you received the invite, you stormed into his office and ripped it up in front of his face before leaving.

Despite how volatile it was between you two, staying away felt impossible. It’s only two weeks into the marriage when he shows up at your place drunk. Though he played the stoic and distance card, you could tell just how needy he was, just how desperate he was to have you in his arms again. And in spite of your better judgment, you took him back.

NOW

You relived all the steps that led to this, becoming so lost in thought you don’t notice how cold it’s gotten. You shiver and decide to go back inside. As you reenter the room and quietly closed the sliding door, you hear a quiet knock at the front door.

You glanced back at a sleeping Miguel and make your way over. Then open it carefully. It’s Amado. You tell him to get some rest, you were likely leaving early in the morning. He nodded and left. You close the door and return to bed.

Just how long could this thing with Miguel sustain itself?

And Pacho, if you felt addicted to Miguel you didn’t even have a word for Pacho. You were fucking hypnotized by him, with no intention of stopping whatever was going on. But if Miguel found out, he would surely have you both killed, or at least try. If you kept this going, you had to be careful and remain miles ahead of Miguel. If that was even possible.

Yawning, the weight of the day finally hits you as your head touches the pillow. You’ll figure it out later. For now, you’d let Miguel sleep and try to rest yourself. As you drift off to sleep, your eyes fly open again. You suddenly remember the shirt and panic washes over you. Moving carefully, you get out of the bed and look for a better hiding place. You didn't want Miguel to find it and there was no way you were leaving this behind.

It’s only after you find a good hiding spot, that you let yourself go to sleep.

MIGUEL pov

A three hours later

Miguel rests one hand under his head and stares up at the ceiling. He can’t recall the last time he slept for more than an hour at a time. He was partly perturbed you didn’t wake him up, he should be working right now, he had a massive problem to tackle.

But the other part of him was grateful. Though he could keep going without sleep, he did technically need it, and you were always good at making sure he took care of himself.

Miguel can feel the tension in his brows as the conversation from earlier replies in his mind. This was not how that was supposed to go.

Fucking Pacho.

Hunger pains sting in his stomach, then he recalls the last thing he ate was breakfast. He’d eat something in the morning on the plane. His mind goes back to the meeting, he starts to think up a plan. Then his thoughts are interrupted by that first meeting in Colombia, the moment his business grew into an empire.

Flashback - Your POV

Miguel was good at selling himself and his ideas, one couldn't make it this far otherwise. It was impressive and a turn on watching him do this thing. But this time you were too distracted to focus on Miguel.

This isn't the first time Miguel bought you along for a negotiation or a pitch. You're a pretty face to soften the situation and render the men around you speechless. It worked all the time like magic, and you didn’t mind it so much, in a way it was like foreplay between you and Miguel. You were told all through your life how pleasing the sound of your voice was, and you knew the few times you did speak at these meetings, that only lured the men in more.

But this time Miguel wasn't your focus.

Your focus was on the tall, dark haired, well-dressed man across the way. From the moment you entered the office, you caught a glimpse of him making a drink by the bar. When those brown eyes met yours, you swore you forgot to breath and if you weren't a professional, you could have tripped then and there.

You act as normal, paying attention on the outside, while making sure you only look at the man an acceptable number of times, at the right time. When he moved behind the desk, leaning back against the painting, it takes everything in you to control your thoughts. With just a gaze you were on fire and deep inside you felt like he knew it.

Pacho Herrera somehow knew how to look at you in a way that seemed normal to everyone else in the room, and still leave you melting under his smoldering gaze, your body left a blaze with desire.

Later that night when you arrived back at your house, you rode Miguel hard and fast. Like it was the last time you’d ever fuck him.

You fucked him so hard he crumbled in your hands, the normally very dominate man succumbing to you, letting you have him, and use his body. All the while, you pictured Pacho, each time you closed your eyes.

Next - Coming soon bbs! I just revised this but I hear Tumblr sometimes retags ppl, so I didn't re-tag on purpose if you did get an alert. Remember the fic Will move to a03 staring the next update.

No more taglist or full updates to Tumblr. Please subscribe to the fic on A03, and check back here and @artemiseamoon-updates for news.

#Miguel narcos #narcos mexico #narcos Mexico au #read warnings #f reader #fic: sin #pacho herrera #Miguel angel #Miguel x f reader #pacho x f reader

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purplesong1028 · 2 years

Text

The Perfect Storm

Chapter 2: Second Night - Confrontation

What’s worse than being stranded by a storm? Being stranded together with your worst enemy.

Rating: General Audience

Pairing: Pacho/Miguel

Chapter 1: https://purplesong1028.tumblr.com/post/677807905444085760/the-perfect-storm

When Miguel wakes up the next morning, it’s already past 9 am. For a brief moment, he almost thought he was dreaming—— he can’t remember the last time he had such a consistent, undisturbed night of sleep at all, let alone under this type of weather. Somehow, knowing for a fact that there’s nothing he can do brings a strange sense of tranquility that’s been missing for a long time. Through the slit between two heavy curtains, reveals a blurry world overshadowed by dark clouds, and filtered with heavy mist in the air.

Miguel makes several calls to Mexico again, but nothing significant is happening, “nothing’s happening at all, until this round of storm passes”, according to Amado. So he calls room service next, and has breakfast all by himself, without a wife or children, but also without someone to wait on him hand and foot. It’s eerily comforting, to have the space all to himself, not having to deal with anyone, anything at all, the only sound being the pouring rain outside of his window.

After breakfast, he goes to take a shower. An ancient looking clock hangs across from the mirror, hands pointing at 10:30. Miguel stares at it for a few seconds, and out of nowhere, his mind almost enters some philosophical contemplation about the meaning of time: what’s the use of it at all, if there’s no work to be done, no events happening? He quickly shakes himself out of it, turning away from the clock to glance at his well-decorated, empty bedroom, the mini bar with expensive bottles on display, and finally, the dismal rainfall outside. Then, for the first time in years, he turns on the hot water and starts filling the massive jacuzzi.

When Miguel thinks about it, he can probably count all the times he had a bath with one hand. Growing up, they didn’t even have a bathtub at home; now there are at least five jacuzzis in his house, but he doesn’t have an hour to waste in any of them. Maybe the only time in his life when he had some kind of balance in between, was shortly after he married María. They’ve had their romantic moments, like getting into a bubble bath together, or watching the sunset while sharing a pitcher of Margarita. But even so, there were always more important things to attend to in their lives: babies to take care of, marijuana to grow, police to pay off or hide from.

But oh…he remembers what it was like to be with her, the way she used to look at him, tease him with her soft fingertips when they were sitting in warm water together, just like this… Miguel slowly brings his hand down…

A gentle wave of music suddenly seeps through from above, interrupting his erotic train of thoughts. He can’t hear it clearly, but the rhythm sounds like classical jazz, or something close to that. It’s quite soothing, and ironically works pretty well as bathing music. That’s when the rush of realization slaps him hard, right in the face: this is bathing music! It literally comes from the bathroom above him, the bathtub above him. Pacho’s bathtub.

Oh fuck. He’s listening to the same music Pacho Herrera listens to, while they’re both in the bath, at the same time!

Part of Miguel wants to jump out of the jacuzzi right now, but the other part of him, the logical, rational part, prevails as usual. Why would he do that? It’s absurd and pointless: what’s wrong with this situation? Nothing, there’s nothing to hide from. They’re literally doing their own things, in their own rooms. At the same time, he can’t possibly deny this extremely unsettling feeling of intrusion, on both ends. First of all, blasting music this loudly in a hotel is just fucking rude, but that’s not even what bothers him. For some strange, and totally unfair reason, Miguel feels like he’s the one who crossed a line, and interrupted Pacho’s private moment, which doesn’t make sense, at all.

Earlier this morning, he was just thinking: thank God he didn’t hear whatever Pacho was doing with that bartender last night, but this…somehow this is even worse. It almost feels intimate, and dangerously revealing. He quickly gets up and grabs a towel.

Miguel spends the next two hours or so doing nothing, absolutely nothing. He finishes almost an entire pack cigarettes and half a bottle of very expensive whisky, but neither provides comfort, entertainment, or just any sense of occupation. Eventually, although he’s been trying to deny it all day long, the underlying annoyance of being trapped in a room has finally built up to a breaking point. He grabs the remaining pack of cigarette, and walks out of the door.

***

It’s already past lunchtime, but the bar area is completely filled up with strangers drinking, chatting and dancing with each other. Somehow, the anxious tension from yesterday is all gone, and these people start enjoying the fact that they’re stranded on this island, not knowing when their flights will take off.

“A drink for you, sir?”

“No thanks, just a glass of water.” Miguel politely waves off the bartender. He’s already tipsy, and it’s not a good idea to keep going.

“Right away.”

It’s pretty noisy here right now, with upbeat music playing and a hundred people talking at the same time, but when a round of especially loud cheering breaks out from the corner of the restaurant, it still catches everyone’s attention.

“They’ve been playing poker for half an hour,” the bartender hands him the glass of water, “and that gentleman has really been on a luck streak today.”

Miguel turns to look through the crowd and sees a pair of hands collecting chips around the table. He can’t see the lucky stranger’s face from this angle, but he isn’t that interested anyway. However, in glimpse of a second, just when he’s about to turn away, a large black stone catches his eye: he remembers that ring—— extravagant, tasteful, always on the ring finger of his left hand.

Miguel starts walking towards that table before he even realizes it.

Pacho looks up at him with a relaxed smile, as if this weird friendliness between them is the most natural thing. “You want to play?”

Now that they’re closer, Miguel can’t help but notice how different the Colombian looks: instead of his signature silk, he’s wearing a light blue cotton shirt with white patterns, like sky and cloud. His hair also isn’t meticulously styled with pomade as usual, just simply blow-dried and naturally left as it is. If it weren’t for that immoderate ring on his finger, he could have blended in with all the other rich, bored, unimportant tourists.

“You two know each other?” Another player cuts in before Miguel speaks, “Oh well, please take my seat! I better get out of here before I lose my shirt to your friend, right?”

That earns a round of laughter, not the mocking kind, just joyous. A little mountain of chips is piled in front of Pacho, but rarely any of them has a large denomination. From the look of it, this is just some harmless game for entertainment, and no one really cares about winning.

“Come on, Miguel.” Taking his thoughtful silence as hesitation, Pacho teases, “You know how to play poker, right?”

“Yeah, I know.”

***

Truth is, Miguel knows the rules, but he’s never been an avid player. It’s a useful social activity, since a lot of people are into it, but he’d much rather use his time on more practical matters, when he has a choice.

The dealer finishes dealing everyone’s hand, and Miguel takes a peek at his two hole cards:

8, 8

Ok, a pair, this is good. This is really good.

“Raise, 500.” He could have raised a lot more, but they’re playing with regular civilians, and there’s no point to push them out on the first round. Two players choose to fold, and everyone else calls to match his bet, including Pacho, but nobody raises a higher one.

The dealer confirms the players still in game, and then proceeds to flip three out of the five community cards at the center of their table.

3, 10, 5, X, X

“Raise, 1000.” Pacho puts several chips into the pool, meeting Miguel’s eyes across the table.

It’s unreal how symbolic this feels, with them staring at each other, both betting their own cards against the other person’s. In real life, Pacho’s always had more cards to play —— as much as Miguel doesn’t like it, it’s a fact. Cali has been in this business a lot longer, and ultimately they are the ones with products. He’s going to change that eventually, but right now, Pacho does have an upper hand.

But that’s not true here. Everyone’s drawing cards from the same deck, and no one is inherently better or worse than anyone else. Here, they have an equal chance at winning.

Miguel takes another look at the three community cards, which practically add nothing to his hand, but who cares? There are two more cards to be flipped.

“1500.” Miguel throws in a few more chips.

“2000.”

“Call.”

***

The crowd gathered around their table has grown considerably larger, but the air has become tensely silent, with only a few barely audible whispers. The dealer looks suspiciously between them, and then carefully flips the fourth community card:

3, 10, 5, 3, X

Yes, a pair of 3! Along with the pair of 8 in his hole cards, now he has two pairs.

Pacho offers him a challenging gaze, “4000.”

Everyone else folds, almost simultaneously.

Miguel looks around at their audience, and then peeks at his own cards again. “Is it only us now?”

“I believe so.”

“Well, in that case…” He slowly picks up a $100 chip and holds it in the air for a few seconds, making sure Pacho can see it clearly across the table. “A hundred thousand.”

The crowd’s gasp sounds like music to his ears, and the way Pacho lifts his eyebrows in slight shock fills Miguel’s chest with thrilling satisfaction.

“It’s just a poker game.” Pacho’s amused look turns into a stern, disapproving stare. “Let’s not cause a scene here.”

Miguel recognizes that tone: arrogant, calm, exactly like when he lit a cigarette and told Miguel “coke is quick, but money is slow”, a memory still fresh as an open wound.

“Why not? Is that a lot to you?”

Pacho laughs out and shakes his head, like he’s dealing with a harmless prank.

“Sir…I, I’ll have to check with the manager.” The dealer stutters, “I mean, this isn’t a real casino and I don’t know if we…”

“Don’t worry about it.” Pacho interrupts him, picking up a $250 chip. “We will settle this, privately.”

“Um…two hundred and fifty…thousand?”

Pacho nods, and the dealer turns to look at Miguel like a frightened little boy.

“Call.”

***

Here it comes, the final flip.

3, 10, 5, 3, 8

An 8. Another 8! Miguel feels like his heart literally skipped a beat. This gives him three 8 and two 3. That’s a Full House! Fuck…He might actually win this thing.

“500.” Pacho turns the chip between his fingers like playing with a cigarette. “I mean five hundred thousand, of course.”

Miguel frowns. Could it be bluffing? Maybe, the timing is perfect, but Pacho should know bluffing doesn’t work on him, right? On the other hand, that could also be Pacho’s strategy, knowing Miguel wouldn’t think it’s a bluff, but it is.

Fuck it. He’s never backed down from billion-dollar business negotiations, and he’s sure as hell not backing down from a poker game. He picks up another $500 chip, piling it tidily on top of the one Pacho just dropped.

“A million.”

“Call.”

Everyone on the first floor is gathered around them at this point, even guests in the middle of their meals have stopped eating and come to watch two crazy people betting a million dollars over some poker game.

The dealer swallows, and wipes his right palm on the pants before turning to Pacho. “Sir, it’s your turn first.”

Pcho flips his hole cards in a graceful motion:

10, 3

That gives him 3, 3, 3, 10, 10.

Also a Full House.

People start cheering, the ones standing close to Pacho all pat him on the shoulder or arm, as if he already won. Pacho smiles at the crowd congratulating him, but his attention never truly left Miguel. As much as everyone else assumes his victory, he remembers Miguel’s cards are still not on the table. In a way, Miguel feels good about that; it’s almost a sign of respect, like he’s being seen by the only person he cares to look at in the entire hotel.

At the same time, it takes away the sweet moment of truth when Miguel reveals he’s in fact the one winning. Victory always tastes better when the other side isn’t anticipating defeat, but regardless, a victory is a victory.

Miguel flips his cards.

8, 8

That gives him 8, 8, 8, 3, 3.

An even bigger Full House.

The entire crowd goes dead silent for a moment, and then bursts into deafening cheers, but Miguel couldn’t care less about them.

Pacho lets out a light chuckle and bites the inside of his lower lip. Then he looks at Miguel—— there’s no defeat, no anger, no shame, just sincere acceptance and levity, as if he just lost a game of hide and seek with a naughty child.

“Congratulations! You just won a million dollars.” The Colombian shrugs and raises his voice, “You should buy a round for everyone here, right?”

People break into another round of yelling and clapping, so Miguel has no other option but to raise his own glass and say yes.

“And the first drink…” Pacho throws one arm over the back of his chair and leans back, “definitely goes to me, right?”

Miguel isn’t sure if that’s supposed to be a joke or not, but people are laughing hard, and Pacho’s laughing with them.

“Well, I’m going to get that drink then. Enjoy the rest of your days, gentlemen.”

With that, he gets up and walks to the bar. People are still talking, laughing around Miguel, and it feels like they’re laughing at him.

***

The first floor is turned into a full-on party scene after their epic million dollar game. Pacho’s still the absolute center of attention, telling every stranger how he got a Full House and lost to another Full House. The funny thing is, when he tells the story, it actually sounds exciting, way more entertaining than what actually happened, at least from Miguel’s perspective.

Someone’s also speaking to Miguel right now, but he’s only half listening. He doesn’t remember this guy’s name, but vaguely recognizes him as one of the other poker players earlier, who apparently owns a resort nearby. Miguel told him he was also a hotel owner himself, which wasn’t a lie, and usually served pretty well as a cover for random small talks. However, this particular person is super invested in their conversation, probably wondering how Miguel —— also being a hotel owner—— had a million dollars to casually spend on poker. If he can’t explain that very well, very soon, he might get himself in trouble for the stupidest reason possible.

“Found yourself a new victim?” Miguel almost jumps as a hand claps on his left shoulder, holding him in from the side.

“Excuse me, but you should be careful of your new friend here. You saw what happened earlier? That’s what he does.” Pacho laughs naturally as he raises his drink to the stranger, but the grasp on Miguel’s shoulder is firm and grounding, almost threatening.

“You should see him in those tournaments, or Vegas. Not the first time you won a fortune from me, right Miguel?”

Miguel grits his teeth at the uncomfortable feeling of being held in place, but at the same time, he does understand what Pacho’s trying to do here. “Yeah, I suppose.”

“Oh ok, um…” The guy cautiously looks between them, and then smartly decides not to get in the middle of long-term poker rivals. “I’ll leave you guys to it then.”

“Enjoy your free drinks.” Pacho nods at him, and silently watches until he’s completely gone off to start conversation with someone else.

“You’re surprisingly not a very good liar, when it matters the most.” He pats lightly on Miguel’s shoulder, the faked polite smile turning into an amused smirk. “Flaunting how much cash you have to everyone in this hotel isn’t in your best interest after all, is it?”

If this were any other time, Miguel would think hard behind the meaning of these words and respond seriously, like he always does, but for the last two days, he’s had more than enough interaction with Pacho, that his brain refuses to keep functioning anymore.

Luckily, the Colombian doesn’t seem to mind his silence. “Alright, what’s your deal? You don’t look like someone who just won a million dollars.”

Miguel shrugs, “You don’t look like someone who just lost a million dollars either.”

“Well, you can’t possibly expect me to sulk over that.” Pacho casually leans back on the bar counter sideways, positioning himself directly in front of Miguel’s face, “But a win is a win, and I’ve always assumed you were the type to enjoy a victory.”

Only when the other side tastes defeat.

“Only ones that matter.”

“Not everything has some grand meaning, or serves as a step to your big plan, Miguel Ángel.” Pacho sips at his daiquiri, catching a thin slice of strawberry between his lips, and then, in a split second, the tip of his tongue sticks out, and twirls the pink, juicy fruit into his mouth effortlessly. The entire movement is swift, seemingly unintentional, and Miguel probably wouldn’t have even noticed it if he wasn’t already staring at the other man’s lips—— a fact that will haunt him for the rest of today.

“You know…” Pacho takes his time swallowing, making sure the subtle movement of his Adam’s apple is very much visible. “Smaller things can still bring joy.”

Miguel stares up at the other man under the dim yellow light, and it has never been so perceptible how much larger Pacho is, physically, yet his brown eyes are not sparkling with threat, only pure excitement and curiosity. There have been several times when Miguel held back against Cali, or against Pacho himself, thinking it was the smart thing to do at the moment.

This is not one of them.

“Like what things?”

“I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me?” Pacho puts down his cocktail. It’s only half finished, but he seems to just lost all interest in alcohol, or anything else.

“Tell me, what would it take to make you smile?”

Miguel brings his own whisky glass to his lips and finishes it in one smooth motion, but slowly, intentionally, not breaking eye contact for a single second.

“One day you’ll find out.”

“Really?” Pacho firmly presses on the empty glass as Miguel places it on the counter. “Should I look forward to it, or watch out?”

Miguel gazes at the glass between them, crystal clear with a few drops of unconsumed liquor, giving it a golden glow. He doesn’t try to move it, doesn’t need to; he knows it won’t shift one inch under Pacho’s palm.

He tightens his grasp and looks up, staring right into Pacho’s brown eyes, and for some reason they’re also shimmering with a soft golden light. “Does it matter? Are they not the same for you?”

“No, Miguel Ángel.” Pacho slides his hand down, fingertips brushing Miguel’s skin like a warm feather. “They’re the same for you, and when you learn to differentiate them…”

Pacho’s fingertips casually drag along his wrist, the back of his hand, his palm…and just when Miguel’s about to snap and catch them, they flee like a nimble butterfly.

“If you ever learn to differentiate them, it would be something I very much look forward to.” Pacho takes one last sip of his daiquiri, and leaves a generous tip to the bartender.

“Have a good day, Miguel Ángel.”

Thank you @yourlocalspacewitxch for the amazing gif, as always!

@ashlingnarcos @narcolini @southotheborder @mandaloria314 @cositapreciosa @criatividad-e @cheesybadgers @cherixrosa @kesskirata

#pacho herrera #miguel angel felix gallardo #pacho x miguel #narcos mexico fanfiction #fanfiction #narcos Mexico #narcos #narcos Mexico fic

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purplesong1028 · 3 years

Text

The Perfect Storm

Chapter 1: First Night - Exposition

What’s worse than being stranded by a storm? Being stranded together with your worst enemy.

Rating: General Audience

Pairing: Pacho/Miguel

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/37508821/chapters/93614197

Miguel did not anticipate to see Pacho again so soon—— honestly, he never wants to see the Colombian unless he has no other option, and unfortunately, his options haven’t been abundant recently.

“Double the shipment, you’re saying?” It’s early afternoon, but the sun is securely concealed behind thick layers of dark clouds, and Pacho’s face is barely visible under the dim light.

“You said you could send more product if I could handle it.”

“I did.” Pacho turns to nod at one of his sicarios, the creepy one, who switches the light on. “Can you handle it?”

A sharp, blaring crack of thunder breaks out, almost sounds like an explosion. It surprises everyone, but since Miguel is back-facing the window, the way his head suddenly snaps to look back makes him seem like a little kid afraid of thunder.

Pacho leisurely turns the glass of whisky between his fingers, lips curved up with subtle amusement. Miguel grits his teeth. He’ll rip that smug smile right off his face, very soon. He’ll find a way to settle the issues at the border, and cut a deal with the Gulf. Soon, the Colombians won’t have an upper hand against him anymore. He will win; he always wins. He just needs more cash to buy a little more time…

“Yeah, I don’t see a problem.” Miguel finishes his drink, frowning a little at the burning sensation. “We can handle it.”

“Then I don’t see why not. My partners like making money.” Pacho stands up and buttons up his suit jacket, glancing at the chaotic scene outside of the window. “Well, seems like we’ll be here for a while.”

Miguel politely shakes his hand, hiding his annoyance. He doesn’t have time to waste being stranded on this island; this is supposed to be a half-day meeting, and he needs to be back in Guadalajara tonight to talk to a few governors.

***

However, if there’s one thing more uncontrollable than the Colombians, it has to be the weather. After all, it’s the fucking nature. If his pilot says they can’t take off, and Amado tells him the same thing over the phone, there’s literally nothing Miguel can do other than wait.

How urgently does he really need to be back in Guadalajara tonight? He just called the governors to reschedule their meeting, and then he called Azul to tell him the meeting with Pacho went well, asked him to pass the good news along to the plazas. He also called Amado, just to make sure transportation is running smoothly. So this is not the end of the world, not a life or death situation, but he remembers how things quickly turned the last time he went away, how he barely managed to keep the organization he built. Sure, it was a completely different situation back then, even he thought it was the end for him, but either way, he meant what he said at his birthday party: every one of these assholes will put a bullet in his head, if they could get away with it. So Miguel will not give them the chance, never.

The news lady on TV is talking about how this might be the worst storm Panama has seen in a decade. Miguel looks out the window at the pouring rain, takes a long drag off his cigarette, and grabs his jacket.

One of his securities silently follows behind as Miguel walks out of the suite. He briefly considers telling him to stay, not wanting to draw attention from other guests, but quickly decides against it. Better safe than sorry, he’ll just have the guy stay at a distance.

The elevator stops at the top floor before coming down. There are only two presidential suites in this hotel, occupying the top two floors, and since he’s staying at second highest floor, the other person must be…

The door opens with a brisk Ding, revealing no one other than Pacho Herrera.

Pacho takes a look at them and regards Miguel with a simple nod. Honestly, Miguel appreciates this mutually agreed silence. Just the thought of making small talks with the man in an enclosed elevator makes him want to walk down 20 flights of stairs.

It doesn’t take more than a few seconds for them to reach the lobby, where a bustling scene unfolds in front of them. People are walking around making phone calls or looking outside. The hotel manager’s speaking to a group of employees gathered in front of him.

It’s around 5:30, quite early for dinner, but the restaurant is already filled with guests who probably had nothing else to do, just like them.

“Hi, welcome!” The host strides toward them with an enthusiastic yet tired smile. “Table for two?”

“What?” For a second, Miguel thought he was referring to him and his bodyguard, but the guy already walked over to the bar area, and Pacho’s still right next to him. “Oh no, we’re not together.”

Pacho gives hims a look that’s very hard to decipher, neither offended or surprised.

“Oh alright, in that case…“ The host looks down at his large notebook. “Gentlemen, I’m really sorry but I’m afraid one of you would have to wait a little.”

“That wouldn’t be necessary!” Someone in a nicer suit suddenly cuts in. Miguel recognizes him as the manager who was just speaking to his employees earlier in the lobby. “I’m sure we can move some other tables around, just give us 5 minutes please? Meanwhile please feel free to enjoy a drink at the bar.”

“Alright, thanks.”

“Wait.” Pacho puts a hand in front of the manager. His voice is smooth and there’s nothing aggressive with his gesture, but the manager instantly freezes like he’s being held at a gun point.

“Come on, Miguel Ángel. Is that really necessary?”

What the…Is it necessary? What the hell does that even mean? Does he want to eat together?

Pacho shakes his head and scoffs, just like how he reacted a few weeks ago at Miguel’s birthday party, when Miguel mentioned they needed to adjust their terms. But it’s also slightly different this time: the usual implicit pressure in his tone is all gone, and he almost sounds a little playful outside of the business context.

“Am I so hard to look at, that you have to take away someone’s dinner table in the midst of a storm?”

Miguel takes these words in, and starts thinking, like he does whenever Pacho speaks, under any circumstance. This is a challenge, not a significant one, and it shouldn’t affect the deal they just made, but a challenge nevertheless, and he never backs down from challenges.

“No, it’s fine.” Miguel turns to the manager, “We’ll share a table.”

Pacho smiles with visible satisfaction, which makes Miguel wonder if he just fell right into the trap. He should have just ordered room service.

***

“Would you like something to drink?”

“A strawberry daiquiri.”

Miguel is still going over the cognacs on the drink menu, but can’t help to look up briefly after hearing Pacho’s order. Not that it matters, but he’s literally never seen anyone ordering that besides this woman in grad school he once slept with.

“And you, sir?”

“Gin and Tonic.”

The waiter nods and walks away, leaving them alone in an in awkward, tension-filled silence. Or maybe he’s the only uncomfortable one here; the asshole sitting across of him seems to be at ease with everything.

Pacho regards him with a sense of unmasked interest, which is far more disturbing than hostility or threat.

“Didn’t know you liked cocktails.”

He didn’t. He always prefers pure liquor, but he didn’t finish looking at the drink menu earlier, so he just ordered the first cocktail came to mind. The last thing he wanted was to prolong this situation.

“I like a few.”

“Wish I’d known that sooner.” Pacho picks up his glass of water with the same graceful manner as he does with expensive drinks. “Which ones?”

What the fuck?! Are they talking about cocktails now? “Old Fashioned, Martini, Margarita...” Actually, María likes Margaritas a lot more than he does. She used to always make a whole pitcher, so they could drink together and talk. That was a long time ago.

“The classics, I see.”

“Sir?” His security walks over from the bar area, interrupting this pointless conversation just in time. “There’s a phone call for you.”

From whom? Miguel almost asks, but then realizes Pacho’s right here, so he just says Perdón and gets up, part of him feeling relieved to walk away from this dinner table, although whoever’s calling might bring even more problems.

***

“Yeah?”

“Hey, it’s me.” Amado’s voice comes through. “I just spoke to Matta and a few other pilots. Panama isn’t the only place hit by the storm.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean the weather’s shit everywhere, man! Quite a few pilots can’t take off, so we’re having some delays of Cali’s last shipment.”

Miguel looks over at Pacho, who’s now enjoying his strawberry cocktail, and apparently having a nice conversation with their waiter. If Amado knows about this, Pacho has to know too, right? After all it’s Cali’s product, and he’s in charge of every kilo. Why did he not say anything?

“Anyway, I thought you should know.” Amado speaks again after a brief silence. “You’re still at the same hotel with Pacho, right? So maybe you can talk to him in person?”

“Yeah, thanks Amado.”

Miguel hangs up the phone and reaches into this pocket for a cigarette, but stops himself midway. He doesn’t want to appear stressed where Pacho can see him. He takes a deep breath and walks back to their table.

***

“Was it about the shipment delay? My partners said it could happen earlier.”

Miguel is just sitting back down when Pacho casually speaks, successfully catching him off guard.

“Well, it’s the weather. Gringos call it Act of God for a reason.” Pacho cuts into the smooth, juicy scallops on his plate. “No one is God here, right?”

“…Yeah.” Miguel should be relieved that Pacho doesn’t seem to care, but he isn’t, so he takes the Gin and Tonic and drinks a large gulp. It’s sweet, but definitely not as sweet as what Pacho’s drinking, which basically looks like a glass of pink fruity candy.

“Relax, Miguel Ángel.” Pacho chuckle lightly, without any condescension, just sheer amusement. “Your organization is not going to disappear overnight because of a thunderstorm.”

“I know. I’m not worried.”

“Good, then perhaps you should try your steak before it gets cold.” Pacho gestures to the plate in front of Miguel. “The waiter recommended it earlier while you were on the phone. It’s one of their specials for tonight.”

Looking at the plate in front of him, Miguel’s not sure what is weirder: Pacho took the liberty to order food for him, or the fact that he actually happens to like steak. The meat breaks effortlessly as he cuts it open, revealing a beautiful gradient from brown to red, a perfect medium rare.

“Looks nice.” This might be an appropriate scenario to say thank you, but he can’t bring himself to actually say it out loud.

“The drink’s very good too. Maybe you can get something else that goes well with your steak.” Pacho glances at the barely touched Gin and Tonic, “Something you actually enjoy.”

Miguel peers up at him while slicing another piece off the steak, hoping to see some emotion besides this strange sense of lightheartedness, but there is none.

“Or maybe not.” Pacho shrugs, “You don’t seem to enjoy anything.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just an observation? I’ve never seen you enjoying yourself, not even with the good things.” Pacho sips at his strawberry daiquiri, “Am I wrong?”

Is he? Honestly, Miguel isn’t completely certain. It all depends on which part of him Pacho’s referring to. As he once told Camarena: he used to sleep like a baby, and then he became a rich man. But Pacho is also a rich man, isn’t he? A lot richer than him, as much as he doesn’t like to admit. Yet the Colombian doesn’t seem to have trouble sleeping, if Miguel were to guess, just like he doesn’t have trouble with anything else.

“We’re not in the most enjoyable business, don’t you agree?”

“I certainly do, but not everything is business, right?” Pacho leans back on his chair in that relaxed posture he often has during business meetings, with the same confidence, but a lot less dominance. “Let’s say, if I were to throw myself a 40th birthday party, I would be drinking and dancing all night.”

“Well, maybe not everyone has that luxury yet.”

“Then, maybe you’re not doing it right yet.” Pacho finishes the last bit of his drink and takes an interested glance at the bar area. “I’ll get myself a few more drinks tonight. Have a good evening, Miguel Ángel.”

With that, he folds his napkin and walks away. Miguel should go back to his suite as well; there’s nothing left to do here, but as he watches Pacho sitting down in front of a young, good-looking male bartender, an inexplicable rush of curiosity suddenly hits him, and he decides to stay a little longer.

***

Miguel has heard plenty of rumors about Pacho. For a business that’s supposed to be discrete, words of useless gossip travel surprisingly fast. It was shocking, of course, to imagine anyone willingly displaying something about himself that automatically makes others see him as less. To simply expose a potential weakness like that, in this business; why would anyone do that?

He watches Pacho taking another daiquiri from the young bartender’s hand, their fingertips briefly touching, as the boy’s face lights up with a shy smile. He can’t see Pacho’s expression from this angle, but it’s not hard to imagine a confident, teasing smirk. Miguel looks around, feeling a little uneasy even as an observer, yet Pacho’s leaning closer to his prey in front of a hundred pairs of eyes.

The bartender nods eagerly at something Pacho said, an invitation…Wait, but Pacho’s suite is literally upstairs. Oh fuck, please let the ceiling be soundproof.

As if on cue, Pacho stands up and turns around, meeting Miguel’s eyes with a smirk: confident, teasing, and outright candid.

Then it hits Miguel: there’s nothing weak about what Pacho’s doing. It’s the most irrefutable display of power he’s ever seen.

*********

Thank you @yourlocalspacewitxch for the amazing gif!

@ashlingnarcos @mandaloria314 @cositapreciosa @criatividad-e @cherixrosa @acrossthesestars @narcolini @carlislecullenisadilf @cigarettesaftersunset

#fanfic #pacho herrera #miguel angel felix gallardo #pacho x miguel #narcos mexico #ao3

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purplesong1028 · 3 years

Text

Wrong in All The Right Ways

Chapter 5: World Outside of You

Amado adjusts to his new life in Juárez, away from Guadalajara and Miguel. Meanwhile, Pacho and other Cali Godfathers worry about the recent noise in Mexico might bring too much unwanted attention.

Rating: 18 +

Pairing: Amado/Miguel, Amado/Pacho

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34735498/chapters/92444890

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Acosta is a stubborn, annoying, crazy asshole. There’s no other way to put it. Planes are for pussies? Since when?! What kind of patrón runs his own errands, letting some low-level mule lead them around? And that idiot actually gets to sleep on the backseat, while Amado has to drive everyone to find that lost load! For all he knows, that idiot might actually be a super smart snitch who knows how to act stupid, so he can lead his honorable, trusting pátron directly to the DEA in exchange for a large reward.

“The desert’s beautiful here.”

“Yeah.” Amado briefly glances at Acosta, and answers without thinking. He’s been driving for hours, so at this point he’s already too zoned out to appreciate how beautiful the fucking desert is. “So tell me, how did you end up hiring this dumbass?”

“Paid for his sister’s eye surgery, so she could see again.”

That does take Amado by surprise for a moment, but come to think about it, of course Acosta is the type of old-school bandito who believes they can achieve some sort of balance between good and bad. His uncle is the same, and honestly, it’s hard to judge them either way. What’s seen as hypocritical by some, might be respectable to others. Still, that doesn’t stop Amado from making a joke to lighten up this boring trip.

“Buying your way into heaven, right?”

“No. I’m not like you all.” Acosta slowly exhales a puff of smoke, making this conversation more serious than Amado wants it to be. “I love people more than money.”

Amado turns to study his face, looking for some trace of emotion behind that statement, maybe pride in himself, or contempt of Amado, but there’s nothing beside complete candidness. He simply stated a fact; nothing more, nothing less, and all of a sudden, Amado realizes how much he’s missed that.

“I also prefer people.”

Acosta gives him a subtle scoff, not looking convinced at all, but it’s really not a lie. He loves people, but it’s not his fault that he somehow always finds the worst ones.

“I thought your boss was different.” Of course he did; they all did, but maybe Amado just did a little bit more than everyone else. He grabs the steering wheel tighter, unconsciously bracing himself to hear Acosta’s next words, to enter a place in his mind that he’s been trying so hard to lock up.

“But he’s like Huitzilipochtli, Aztec god who took power by killing his brothers.”

No, you don’t get it. Amado wants to say. True, Miguel always finds a way to take what he wants, but why? Because he knows what to offer .

Amado thinks back to the meeting they just had, after DEA burned Rafa’s marijuana field into ashes. He remembers how he watched Miguel pacing the floor, picturing every inch of skin under that tailor-made suit. Why didn’t he enjoy it one last time when they said goodbye that night? What the fuck was he thinking? They didn’t need to get into the bath together and reminisce about the past like some star-crossed lovers. What Amado wanted, needed and should have done was burying himself inside Miguel, deep and hard, hard enough to make Miguel hate him a little, so he knew everything would end for real.

He remembers Miguel’s calm voice calling from behind, when he was about to leave.

“Lock the door.” Miguel said, so he did, and when he turned around, Miguel was already standing right there in front of him.

“Juárez is very important. It’s the future, Amado.” Their faces are inches apart, hot breath mixed together with the lingering scent of cigarettes. “Do you understand?”

Amado wants to grab him and crush him against the door, kiss him softly and fuck him mercilessly, make him scream right here in his hotel, his own office.

But he didn’t move as Miguel started kissing down his neck. He kept quiet when Miguel unbuckled his belt.

“He threw them down the mountain…” Acosta’s still talking, too distracted himself to notice how Amado stopped paying attention earlier.

“And tore their hearts out.”

“Bust of The Century.” Gilberto puts down the New York Times next to his coffee, picking up another piece of fruit from his plate. “Looks like DEA had a feast in Mexico, huh?”

Miguel smiles and takes off his glasses, “Who cares? As long as they didn’t touch the important stuff.”

“That’s his field, Rafael Caro.” Pacho already finished his breakfast, now making himself a mimosa at the bar. “The asshole who shot up the club.”

“What’re you talking about?”

“I think you weren’t here, hermano.” Miguel cuts in, “Pacho’s last trip to Guadalajara, that motherfucker opened fire at a club he went to.”

“Why the hell is he still walking around then?”

“Not worth the trouble, just an idiot.” Pacho shrugs, gesturing at Gilberto’s newspaper, “He’ll get himself caught or killed anyway, likely both.”

“This is attention, attention we don’t need.” Gilberto puts a finger on the large title, “It doesn’t concern us yet, but it certainly doesn’t help us either, if they’re drawing DEA like flies over there.”

Pacho nods, “I’ll see what I can find out.”

“Wait Pacho!” Miguel calls after the younger man just as he’s about to leave. “You haven’t told Gilberto the full story yet.”

“What story?”

“At the club! What happened after that crazy guy started shooting?”

Pacho laughs into his mimosa, “Come on, Miguel…”

“Wait, what happened then?” Now Gilberto’s also staring at him with shining eyes, and Pacho can never understand their passion for gossips, particularly those related to him.

He sighs resignedly, “This man sent by Félix to keep an eye on me, he was also there when it happened, tackled me to the ground and stood in front of me.”

“Did he?” Gilberto laughs knowingly, “Well, I think I know how that kind of story ends for you!”

“Well yeah, I got the price down to 65% for our last shipment, you already knew that.”

“Alright, he’s not gonna tell us this one.”

“Sorry, no story this time, Gilberto.” With that, Pacho finishes his mimosa and walks away with a smile.

Alright, fine. Acosta’s still stubborn and crazy, but at least he’s not an idiot. Somehow, against all odds, he was right. There was no one waiting with guns and handcuffs on the other side of the Mexico-US border, just their truck flipped sideways in a ditch. Amado doesn’t know why he’s so surprised, but he likes how everything turns out. It’s a strange feeling to be surrounded by honest but stupid people like these two mules, almost refreshing.

“Here, Dopey.” Acosta laughs as he casually throws a package at Amado, who decides it’s not worth it to fight with him about this new nickname. This is actually a genius idea, where they’re hiding the coke. Amado thought it was in the watermelons, but actually it’s all inside the gas tank, which is a much safer place.

“This’s pretty smart! The watermelons are clear, and the gas covers the smell too.”

Acosta gives him a nod and makes a low humming sound, doesn’t stop taking out one package after another from the flipped truck—— he really doesn’t send people to do things he can do himself. The man’s all business, no talk. Another package is thrown at him, and Amado almost missed it, consumed in his own thoughts.

“What, falling asleep over there?”

“Yeah? I fucking drove all the way here!”

“Can’t handle a little car ride? Thought you were some fancy pilot.”

One of the mules, the one who flipped the truck in the first place, actually dares to laugh at it!

“Oh, that’s funny? You are fucking laughing?!”

“N…no señor .” The guy practically starts shaking, and he’s lucky that Amado’s really, really too tired to keep this up anymore. Then, out of nowhere, something just clicks in his foggy brain, maybe because Acosta was just comparing car rides to plane rides, or maybe that’s been what’s distracting him all along since he saw where the coke was hidden.

“Hey Pablo!” Amado walks over to him as they’re finishing up. “Listen, enough with this bullshit, I have an idea.” He gets into the backseat, silently making the dumbass mule drive everyone back.

“We store our coke in Juárez like this, exactly how you do it!” Acosta looks back at him from the passenger seat, finally looking interested for the first time.

“We put them in gas tanks, and bury them under the runway.” Amado continues with a vivid gesture, unable to hide his own excitement. “Seriously, invisible coke!”

Acosta laughs out shapely at the last bit and lights a cigarette, “You really love your little planes, don’t you?”

“Come on! Hate planes all you want, you can’t tell me this isn’t a good idea, huh?”

“I, I think it’s a very good idea, patrón .”

“Just…shut up and keep driving, kid.” Acosta takes a long drag, looking out the window at the desert’s night scene, which is basically complete darkness. “Alright, you take care of that.”

“Bueno.” Amado nods at him with a smile, settling with the fact that Acosta isn’t entirely a stubborn, crazy asshole after all.

“ ¿Cómo estás, Diego? ” Pacho leans comfortably into the soft leather couch. “Still enjoying life in Mexico City?”

“Clearly I am!” Diego’s laughter is barely audible under the loud club music. “Sorry Pacho, hold on, let me find somewhere quiet.”

Manuel walks by and hands him a glass of whisky, and Pacho takes the chance to press a kiss on his knuckles.

“Alright, what’s up? I figured you were going to call.”

“Well, always one step ahead, aren’t you?” Pacho takes a sip of whisky with a smile. “What do you have for me then?”

“Probably not so much at the moment, unfortunately. The gringos went around the police and direct to the military, that was why no one got any warning.”

“Do you know if they were after anything specific?” Pacho twirls the glass in his hand, watching the golden liquor forming a perfect little turnado. “Someone, maybe?”

“I mean, they’ve been after Félix for a while now, so nothing new there. But they’re actually sending many agents back to the United States in a week or so.”

With that, Diego stops talking, and that could really be the end of it, but Pacho knows his top informants enough to tell the difference between silence and pause.

“But?”

“…Ok, look Pacho, this is really more of a feeling than actual information, so I didn’t want to give you anything wrong, but I don’t know, some people in Mexico City just seem…more nervous than they should be, you know?”

“You think the Americans found something on them? Made a connection?”

“I really don’t know right now, but I wouldn’t be surprised if some big players were involved.”

“Alright, muchas gracias, Diego. Call me when you find out more.”

“Of course Pacho, good night.”

“Good night.”

Pacho puts down the phone and finishes his drink. This bullshit is probably more serious than they thought.

“Bad news?”

“Could be.” Pacho leans his head back to look at Manuel upside down, his most deadly killer who never makes a sound when approaching someone from behind.

“How bad?” Warm fingers brush through Pacho’s Adam’s apple, slowly sliding down his neck and chest, opening his buttons one by one, delicate and teasing, almost like an artist’s hand, if it weren’t for the rough blisters.

“Not nearly bad enough for you to stop.”

The younger man smiles, and jumps his willing prey like a happy leopard.

Amado wakes up around noon, finally feeling decently recharged. He plans to take a very long hot shower, but the heat in this fucking desert makes it unbearable after 10 minutes. Maybe he should consider changing his wardrobe a little if he’s going to stay in Juárez longterm. Black is the worst color he can wear under this weather. Amado tries to imagine himself in anything other than black as he pulls out a random shirt, and as if he’s channeling some sort of mental energy, a beautiful white box falls out and lands right next to his feet.

Amado’s heart skips a beat. It hasn’t been that long, and he clearly remembers what’s inside, still feels the delicate cloth against his fingertips. It’s ridiculous, really. He didn’t even take it out of the box that day, like some boring good person refusing to let Pandora infect his mind with evilness. But he also didn’t throw it away like he should have, maybe because he was anything but a good boring person, and there was no point to pretend otherwise. Amado shoves the box back into his closet with a sigh, grabs his phone and walks out. There are more important things and more tangible people to deal with.

It feels a little strange to take Amado’s call now. Miguel didn’t think it would be, but it is, and he’s not going to lie to himself about it. Before Amado went to Juárez, there was always a silent anticipation when Amado called, a possibility, at least. It was a bit of a guessing game, but still, it was up to Miguel to decide what the final outcome would be, and he enjoyed that. Now, that possibility should have disappeared: Miguel made sure of it, and he was certain that Amado agreed with him. However, that certainty did not last more than a few weeks, before it was broken right here in his office, so now all he’s left with is a uncharted territory, something new, unknown, and uncontrollable. He can’t stand things being uncontrollable.

Miguel makes their conversation stay strictly on business, and although Amado might think he’s pulling off a natural pretense, it’s very obvious that he’s doing the exact same thing. It’s comforting to know they’re once again on the same page, but at the same time, that fact alone is tempting.

“Sir, Neto is on the other line. He says it’s important.”

“So is this. Tell him I’ll call him back.”

“Yeah actually…” Amado starts speaking again, almost sounds apologetic. “That’s all, just wanted to tell you what the plan is.”

“Oh, ok.” Miguel pauses for a second, suddenly feeling a tight heat in his chest passing through. “Sounds good, move forward with it.”

Thinking back, it’s funny how he put so much thoughts into Amado’s call, thinking that would be the tricky one to deal with, before he cut to Neto’s line.

“The kid screwed up. They’re taking Camerena.”

Acosta Gif made by: @saucerful-strange

PS. Thank you so much to everyone in our discord writer’s circle, who kept helping me in every step.

@ashlingnarcos @yourlocalspacewitxch @bellinitini @acrossthesestars @carlislecullenisadilf @criatividad-e @cositapreciosa

#narcos #narcos mexico #pacho herrera #amado carrillo fuentes #miguel angel felix gallardo #amado/miguel #amado x pacho #ao3 #fanfic

24 notes · View notes

artemiseamoon · 4 years

Text

Sin

Chapter 2

Part 1 here | next | All chapters | A03

Miguel x F reader , Pacho x F reader, featuring Miguel and Amado

Words: 4,170 | Angst, NSFW, Smut, Adult 18 + | revised 10/24/22

This chapter: This one is long because I LOVE the hotel scene so hard that I just didn't have the heart to minimize it or edit it out. SMUT comes later.

Warnings: NSFW, Smut, a not-so-quickie (unprotected), quick oral sex, some ass slapping and biting.

I hate to add this, but sadly there are many immature keyboard warriors out there. If anyone else wants to be an asshole about the fic, you know you have an option to not read and ignore stuff you don't like right? Move on. Read someone else's stuff. Don't write me. You will be deleted and blocked and reported for harassment if don't go away. Touch a tree, take a breath, read a book, like - anything else but bother me. Thanks!

As always I do not condone the actions of real life persons or this lifestyle. This is just fanfics based on the show and the handsome actors.

In theory, this was a smart move.

Miguel being the ultimate chess player he is, choosing you and Amado to accompany him to Panama made sense. Both of you were Miguels' golden pieces.

Miguel needed Amado more than he was willing to admit, and as head of transport, it was necessary to have him here. As for you, well, Miguel never really told you why he chose you. But you had your suspicions.

Though you never revealed what went down that night, part of you knew Miguel suspected something. He knew you left; it was safe to assume with some guy. He took this as a sign of disrespect. His solution? Keep a closer eye on you. Whenever Miguel felt you getting further away from him, he'd find a way to keep you close and reel you back in.

As predicted, Miguel became more possessive, more demanding. He even had you tailed a few times. You could only imagine how he’d react if he knew you fucked Pacho. If Miguel knew he was delivering you to the man who possesses your every thought, he'd turn this jet around.

Your night with Pacho remains your dirty little secret. You can barely believe it's been a week now; it feels like yesterday. Every time you think about Pacho, your body and senses awaken, you can feel his lips and hands on your skin.

You had another secret, having both men in one night awakened something in you, something you never knew was there. Both men and all that power, all that passion, all that desire - it made you hungry for more. Though it was highly impossible to happen again, you found yourself fantasizing about it.

Your thoughts were so focused on Pacho during the flight, that you had to relieve yourself in the hotel room after landing. Even after the shower, the fire beneath your skin continues to consume you; it feels like a pollen-induced haze. You have no idea how the hell you're going to sit through a meeting like this.

As the hotel room is checked out by Cali's security, you feel the anticipation growing in your gut. It takes everything in you to keep your legs still. On the other side of the room, Miguel is watching the security guy; Amado is looking out the window on the balcony.

This would be a disaster. You could feel it.

Anxiety radiated off Miguel as he walked past the two empty seats and took his place on the couch. To most, he would seem in control, but you know him, and you know he's freaking out. You also know, from the look in his eyes, Amado can feel it too.

Guerra ghosting him is a very bad sign, you're sure Pacho had something to do with it. For every chess piece Miguel moves, Pacho moves two more.

Pacho, being who he is, points this out, “Looks like you were expecting company.”

Miguel denied what you three know to be true. Both you and Amado remained quiet as Miguel tops off Pacho’s drink. Making another comment, Pacho reaches for the glass and brings it to his lips. When his eyes meet yours another wave of heat washes over you.

His glaze alone works as a command. Pacho is the snake charmer, and you are the snake. You feel your nipples harden and hold your arm in such a way to conceal them. The thin top you wore would surely give you away.

But it's too late, Pacho notices and so does Amado, who you catch looking in your direction. Miguel, too busy strategizing doesn’t see anything. Miguel was also furthest away from you, as you sat to the right of Amado.

Your eyes travel around the room, and you catch a small smirk from Navegante, he’s leaning back against the mirror. Your eyes slowly move back to the table. Images replay in your mind of your night with Pacho, and just like that, you're distracted again.

I shouldn't be thinking about this

You say to yourself. Your lips linger on the rim of your glass as you press your inner thighs together.

Not in a situation like this. Highly dangerous, steaks high, tension thick as concrete, and a layer of quiet panic beneath.

As the tense meeting goes on, you can't help but feel more attracted to Pacho than ever. Even with the pure silent chaos happening around you. As Pacho continues to dominate the meeting, all you can think about is fucking him right there. Riding him to all hell no matter the risk.

Pacho could read you like a book.

Whenever your eyes meet it’s like he knows exactly what you were thinking. You felt naughty, bad, sinful. Your panties are wet as you close your legs together as tight as possible.

At one point Amado leans over to Miguel and whispers in his ear. You can barely hear what he said, but it doesn't take a genius to figure it out. Amado’s body language says it all.

When Pacho reveals Guerro would now be working for him, Miguel's jaw clenched even tighter. A grave look casts over Amado's eyes and you can feel the “I win” radiating off of Pacho. The display of power turns you on even more.

You had to admit, even though you hated Miguel it was part of your attraction to him as well. There was even something sexy in seeing Miguel have to submit to Pacho. Watching the thick tension between them only served to increase your desire. Your senses go into overdrive.

You try your best to not look at Pacho’s lips as he speaks. You stick well-hidden glances.

You think about the way Pacho's lips felt against you. The way he kissed you like your lips belonged to him. The way he used that same mouth to eat you out and destroy you. The way those long fingers of his worked you like a magician.

Only when Pacho is satisfied does he direct the conversation back to Miguel. He asks him what he wants, and Miguel takes a puff from his cigarette.

The smoke dances across Miguel's face like a ghost as he speaks, “We’re going to need you to send more product.” Miguel glanced at you and Amado, then back at Pacho, “that’s why we're here.”

Fuck, you thought.

Miguel was already way in over his head. He already had more than he could move, money was owed, and there was tension between plazas. You and Amado share a knowing look before he finishes his drink.

You knock back the rest of your drink on one gulp, then place the empty glass down on the table. When you look up again, Miguels and Pacho's eyes are on you. Playing it cool you make a gesture to the glass,

“What? I was thirsty.” You say nonchalantly. "This is good stuff."

Miguel's face remains unchanged. A smile pulls at the corners of Pacho's mouth, his eyes soften on you.

“Get the lady another drink.” Pacho signaled one of his guys and Miguel puts up his hand in protest. Instead, he takes it upon himself to refill your glass, then Amado's.

His eyes meet yours as he does. In his eyes, you see anger, worry, and an attempt to remain controlled. You can tell he didn’t like this little attention-stealing act of yours and would bring it up later. It wasn't really your fault all eyes were on you. It was a given really, being the only woman in the room. He knew you would be a distraction to soften his intended blow.

Miguel turned his attention back to Pacho, going back on topic, “We need more product.”

Pacho, who is clearly amused, relaxed back on the couch. Very clearly still looking at you, he responds to Miguel, “Still having problems keeping your people happy?”

Pacho was being a bitch and you loved it. Sure, part of you didn’t really want Miguel to get too hurt, not really. But you were enjoying this more than you should. You’ve seen Miguel dominate people multiple times but to see it done to him? It was perversely satisfying.

Pacho knew exactly what he was doing. He knew how much more that comment would hurt with him looking at you dead on. It was like Pacho was saying, I can take your contacts, take your business, and take your girl. And shit, you were turned on beyond belief.

Pleased with himself, Pacho shifts his focus to Miguel who is now looking down. One hand on his knee, the other holding a cigarette. Miguel was going to explode later, both you and Amado could feel it.

Pacho continues his thought, “Making payroll can be tough.” He pauses, Miguel takes a drag from his cigarette, his eyes darker than before as they meet Pacho's again, “how much?”

“As much as you can put together,” Miguel replied.

Pacho starts to laugh and looks over at the guy next to him. He wasn't wrong, this was a joke. A bad joke. You also curse Pacho under your breath, it was rare to see his full smile but fuck, it was beautiful.

Pacho licks his lips, looking up as if he's thinking. Once he speaks again, he drops his number, and you feel the collective gut drops between you and the guys. It was near impossible, and you knew Amado was about to have a damn heart attack despite the steady look he kept on his face.

The exchange between Miguel and Pacho continues, and the room is so thick with tension the air feels thin. In just a few minutes, Miguel's situation was worse off than when he started.

There isn’t much of a meeting left after this. Pacho acquaints himself with Amado as Miguel stands, ready to leave the room. Miguel shakes Pacho's hand and says his goodbyes to the men. You take your time to stand. You watch as Amado finishes shaking Pacho's hand, your heart speeds up. You’re next.

Pacho moves before you, says your name, then slowly grabs your hand to kiss it.

Miguel's eyes burn into you both as Pacho holds your hand much longer than needed. When his lips finally meet your skin, they’re soft and tender, his mustache tingles just a little. The sensation of skin against skin makes the rest of the room disappear. Your body memory kicks in, you feel his lips all over you again.

“Good to see you Pacho.” You said softly.

His grip still firm on your hand, Pacho gently pulls you closer. The smell of him dancing into your nose and feeding your senses. Your heart is racing, this was a bold move. Pacho leans in close, he whispers in your ear.

You giggle in response to what he says, much to Miguel's displeasure. Tearing your eyes away from Pacho, you glance back at Miguel briefly, the man is practically sweating, a bundle of nerves in a suit.

Miguel calls your name, his tone assertive. Pacho releases your hand slowly.

Impatient and upset, Miguel retrieves you. Striding over, he grabs your forearm and directs you to the door. All three of you step out of the room, the doors held open by Pacho's' men.

As the doors close behind you, the distinctive sound of Pacho's' laugh hits your ears. You can see Miguel's shoulders tighten under his suit as he walks ahead of both of you.

Stepping outside of the room does little to cool the inferno inside of you, but it does somber things a bit. The reality of the situation staring you all dead in the face.

Amado presses the elevator button and rests his hand on his hips as you all wait. Through the few shared glances between them, you knew both had a lot to say and Amado was close to unloading on Miguel.

The elevator door opened, and Miguel turned to you, placing his hand on your lower back. He escorts you inside. You move to the back of the elevator and watch the two men as they stand toward the front. When the door closes, Amado wastes time turning to Miguel.

Amado goes off, voicing the exact same things you were thinking. If Miguel wasn't already downing, he damn sure was now. Amado makes good points. You make a comment under your breath and quickly get Miguels attention.

“What? You have an option too?”

“Don’t be an asshole.” You shoot back. You locked into an angry glare. Neither of you falter until the elevator door opens to your floor. You step out pushing past Miguel on purpose,

“Just leave me alone, I need to digest all this, “you offer a parting nod to Amado only, then head to your room.

As your door closes behind you, a small feeling of relief comes. You had at least half an hour to yourself. Miguel would surely call Guerro, and Amado was probably at the bar trying to drown his thoughts.

Just as you start to kick off your shoes, a knock comes at the door. You pause, it would be too soon for Miguel. He was clearly upset, and you were on the bottom of his list of concerns right now. You wonder if it could be Amado? Needing to vent some more, which you would understand.

You go to the door and look through the peephole to see that familiar strange face with his even stranger grin. Opening the door, you keep your hand on the handle. Trying to hide your excitement. He would only be here for one reason.

“Navegante?"

This time the room is empty, though the hall is guarded by his men still. Navegante walks inside, delivering you like a gift. The silly grin on his face makes you both smile, Navegante was such a weird guy.

As the door shuts, leaving you two alone, excitement dances through every cell in your body. Pacho closes the space between you, using two fingers to lift your chin.

“Hi.” You whispered.

Pacho, ever intense and mysterious, replies with a kiss. His lips warm and soft against yours. His lips part slightly, you slide your tongue inside of his mouth, pulling a sexy groan from him in response.

Placing one hand on the back of your head, he rests the other on your hip, holding you as close as possible as the heated kiss deepens. You feel dizzy, drunk, overwhelmed by him.

When the kiss breaks, he presses his forehead to yours.

You continue to whisper, “I don't know how much time I have. We need to be quick.”

“Hermosa, “Pacho stares into your soul, gently swaying your hips with his in a slow dance, “I prefer to take my time with you.”

“I know,” you pout, “I don’t want to rush either. But Miguel -” You stop short, lost in the way he’s looking at you.

“If you want me to rush, I’ll be rough.”

“I can handle it.” You purred.

Your response pleasing him as you feel his semi-hard on turn into a full erection. You run your nails over the exposed skin of his chest, where the buttons were left undone.

If before was dangerous, this is - you don't even have a word for this. But, instead of feeling fear, you feel excitement. Your adrenaline spikes and the danger element feels like an aphrodisiac.

Pacho’s languid pace shifts, he pulls at your shirt and pops two buttons as he undresses you. Quickly stripping you of all your clothing as he remains dressed.

Pacho circles you, taking in the sight of your body before grabbing your ass. Caressing and slapping the flesh hard. When the last hand comes down it stings to all hell, you nearly fall over, he catches you.

He planted a kiss on the spot, then makes his way to the couch and sits, legs spread wide. He silently summons you with his eyes. You slink over to him, like a cat in heat and drop to your knees. Pacho traces the shape of your lips with his fingers as he studies you closely.

The tips of his index and middle fingers linger on your bottom lip before pushing their way into your mouth. As you suck on them, he forces your mouth open wider, replacing his fingers with his thumb. You suck seductively as you gaze at him. He guides your hands to his belt buckle.

You make quick work of undoing his belt and opening his pants as you continue to suck his thumb. Pacho pets your head gently, savoring the sight of you between his legs and obeying, “so good for me.”

You free his cock from his pants. Your mouth now free of his thumb, you wet your lips and lower your head. His hungry gaze on you, watching, waiting. You open your mouth and stick out your tongue, swirling your tongue around his tip before sucking his length into your hot mouth.

The sensation of being engulfed in wet heat causes Pacho to moan your name. It’s music to your ears. Pacho's hands move to your hair, tugging and pulling as you make him putty in your hands.

You suck him in deep, the blow job is quick, messy, wet. Every time you gag on him, he groans, and you grow wetter. With limited time, you couldn't be concerned with finesse right now.

After a few blissful minutes, he pulls you away, gently taking his cock out of your mouth and caressing your cheeks and jaw. He needed you now, he needed to be inside of you. You stand and he helps you into his lap, you get comfortable as his mouth claims yours.

Pacho slides two fingers inside of you, pumping deep and fast to get you as wet as possible. You purr into his kisses and feel a smile on his lips. As his fingers continue to dance inside of you, he sucks and bites the skin of your neck.

“Pacho, “you breathed, “no marks. He’ll see -”

He bites you again harder in response, you bare the pain through gritted teeth, "Good.” he said with a cocky smile.

Needing relief, you press against him, desperate for him to fill you. Pacho decides to reward you.

You grip his shoulders firmly as he lines himself up with your entrance. Without warning, he thrusts up. Pushing deep inside of you. You drop down to receive him, your body so hungry you accept him instantly.

You hold on tight as he fucks up into you. You just take it, not even bothering to move, at least not yet. You close your eyes and rest your forehead against his, savoring the feeling of him inside of you.

When you do start to move your hips, Pacho groans with pleasure. You quickly find you pace with each other and fuck hard and fast, not wasting a single second. Maybe it was the time limit, but Pacho was rough. Rougher than the first time and something about it was hotter than expected. You fuck hard and fast.

As Pacho's mouth explores your lips, neck, and breasts, his cock filling you, you know it wouldn't be too much longer. For this very reason you hold on, not letting yourself come yet. When you come, you let your body rest against his.

Pacho pulls you under him, changing positions to fuck you against the couch. The deeper angle sends you into another orgasm. Pacho litters your neck and chest with bites as his relentless pace destroys you. You come again and Pacho is right behind you. He spills inside of you and rests his head against your breasts.

The both of you lay there catching your breath. Barely able to keep your eyes open. When you finally speak again, you exhale deeply,

“You tore my shirt you know.”

Not that you cared, you just like to be a shit sometimes.

“I’ll buy you another one.” you can feel his smile against your skin. He didn’t mind, he liked it.

You run your fingers through his hair, and he leans into it.

“When are you guys meeting again? You know, to make sure I’m there, “you say.

Pacho chuckles lowly and lifted his head to look at you,

“The next time he needs more product.” He says in a sarcastic tone. You laugh and start to sit up, he helps you.

You stand and start to gather your clothing. You find everything but your underwear. When you turn around Pacho is grinning, the panties dangling from his fingers. You move forward to grab them and he raises his hand higher, pulling you into one more kiss as his free hand rests against your back.

You wanted to stay here forever, against his body, his hands on you, his mouth on yours. But you couldn't, you knew you were pushing it. It’s definitely been more than a half an hour at this point.

Reluctantly, you move away and put your clothing on. Pacho makes a drink and sits on the couch, watching you. When you get to your shirt, you realize the two missing buttons were the most important. You point at them and make a face at him.

Grinning, Pacho stands and gives you, his drink. You take a sip and watch as he goes over to a suitcase on the other side of the room. His broad back to you, you can't see what he's doing.

When he returns there's money in one hand and a shirt in the other. Your eyes grow wide at the shirt, sure he was giving you way more money than you needed but one of Pacho's shirts? It felt like you just hit the jackpot.

In shock, you set the drink on the nearest surface and look at him with wide eyes.

“Careful with this.” He holds up the shirt and winks at you.

You don’t know what to say. He gives you a look, a new one you've never seen. It's almost like he thinks your surprise is adorable. He leaves you briefly to slip the money in your purse before returning to you.

Still unable to form a reply, you just stand there feeling silly. But this clearly doesn't bother him. Pacho slips your shirt off of you with care and helps you into his shirt. His touch is almost loving as he handles you.

As Pacho works the buttons you can't help but notice the shirt smells just like him. You definitely could not wear this around Miguel, you’d have to hide this shirt in your overnight case and change into something else in your room.

Pacho leaves the top two buttons open and caresses your arms as he admires you in his shirt.

“Pacho, thank you.” You say softly.

He makes a face, to say don’t worry about it. He leans in, bruising his lips against yours, “You’ll just have to take care of it until next time.”

A wide smile fills your face, and you throw your arms around his neck, planting a series of kisses on his lips. “I will.”

Next time. The words ring in your head like bells. Maybe you shouldn't reveal how excited you are, but you couldn't help it. You feel safe in Pacho's' arms. Making it even harder to leave them.

When you gather your bag and linger by the door, he takes your hand in his and kisses your knuckles. You realize, this was starting to feel like so much more than a sexual conquest.

“Maybe I just need to go to Colombia.” You say, quickly regretting it. You were supposed to play it cool, remember?

Pacho’s steamy eyes don’t give away his response right away. You feel nervous. He smooths his palm over your hair and rests his hand on the side of your face.

“Tell me when, I’ll send for you.”

God, you could fall in love with this man.

You bite your lower lip and nod your head. Making a silent agreement.

Pacho opens the door for you and watches as you walk away. Your heart is in your throat and a silly grin on your lips as you ride the elevator. When the doors open to your floor, you don't see a soul.

Thank god.

In the clear, you rush to your room and creepily smell the shirt before carefully wrapping it up and shoving it in the hidden compartment of your suitcase. Next, you take a shower to clean up. When you're done, you step out to dry off, a knock comes at your door. A heavy aggressive knock, a knot forms in your gut.

Miguel calls your name from the other side of the door. Wrapping the bath robe around yourself, you pull the collar up high and walk over.

He repeats your name and knocks again.

Did he know? Did he see you?

“Okay okay hold on, jesus.” You shout back.

Taking a deep breath, you put your hand on the handle and open the door.

Next chapter

Sorry for any errors like my eyes read this so many times. I’ll go back over it soon and fix any. Thanks :) Reblogs welcome. I just revised it and I think tumblr still retags some people, which is random, so if you got a tag, thats why.

#narcos mexico #miguel angel felix gallardo #miguel x female reader #pacho herrera #pacho x female reader #pacho x miguel x reader #sin pt 2 #narcos Mexico fic #narcos netflix #narcos mexico netflix #fic: sin #read warnings

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artemiseamoon · 4 years

Text

Sin

Narcos Mx AU | Miguel x Female reader | Female reader x Pacho *

Chapter 1 of 5 | revised 10/24/22 | words: 3,667

Summary: You were Miguel's ex-mistress, he insists you come to his birthday party and the night takes an interesting turn.

All chapters / fic index | read on A03

NSFW Adult 18 + only | gifs credit to owners

Warnings: Sex, cursing, unprotected sex (wrap it up ya’ll and be safe), multiple partners, neck grabbing, ass slapping

* Pacho is bi in this AU.

Read as an OC if you prefer, Fox is one of her nicknames

Author note: Just a dirty ass one shot because my depression is sneaking back and this makes me feel better. I don’t know how my week of fluff turned into this. (Love how this went from oneshot to fic 😂)

PLUS: as always i do not condone the actions of the real life persons. This is just fanfics based off the show and the handsome actors.

Updates go to A03 after chapter 3, previews post on tumblr

Don’t like this? Don’t read it. I don’t need anyone’s complains or whining.

Tonight, represents more than Miguels 40th birthday party. It represents his status at the top, his success; the physical manifestation of every move he's ever made until now. Good or bad, out of need, desire, or spite. It all got him here.

Tonight, also marks two months since you fell out with Miguel, and the end of your affair. You hadn’t seen him since, but you knew he was keeping tabs on you. Miguel is a possessive ex. He didn't let things go.

Miguel never begged for anything, never had to, never would. But he had his little ways of convincing people to say yes, and though you knew better, and you knew all his little tricks, he still got you to say yes. In the back of your mind, you figured if you declined, he'd send someone to come get you anyway, it's just the way Miguel is.

The last time you saw Miguel, he had Azul escort you to his office. It went as expected, you yelled and screamed at each other followed by Miguel fucking you against his desk. Once you came you slapped him, got dressed, then left. To be fair, you did desire him, it just didn't take away the anger and rage you felt for the man. That was two months ago.

Now, here you are at his over-the-top birthday party. It started 30 minutes ago; everyone's having a good time. The guest of honor is a no show. You imagined him in your mind, the lonely King, deep within the walls of his castle smoking in the shadows and contemplating his next moves. All the while his guest ask about him and seek him out, for a multitude of reasons; personal, political, business.

But not you. You haven't asked about him at all and don't plan to. You busied yourself with your date. He wasn't anyone important, just some hot guy you hooked up with a few times. Miguel isn't the only one who's spiteful, you know the moment he sees your date, and your dress, he's going to freak.

The anticipation of pissing him off, of seeing the look on his face, is almost too much for your body to contain. You can't stay still for too long and hit the dance floor to work off some of your energy.

When the birthday boy finally appears, it takes him no time to notice you and your date. The way he looked at you from across the room, his young new wife at his side, was enough to stab daggers into your soul. Your date may or may not end up dead by the end of the night; this is Miguel after all. Still, you danced up on him. Kissing on him. Absolutely making Miguel crazy.

It works.

Miguel makes a line for you. He hooks his arm around your waist, “Come with me.”

He doesn't even look at your date or acknowledge him. But your dates not stupid, he knows who this is, and even thought his ego is wounded, and he would likely never call you again, he lets Miguel take you with him.

Miguel was tense and quiet as he leads you into the house, the whole time keeping his hands on you, like if he lets you go for one second, you'll slip away. He only stopped when you reached a long dark hallway. He pushed the door open and led the way inside. You barely had time to make out what the room was before he pressed into you, backing you into a wall, his eyes dark with jealousy.

“You think you're clever?”

“You're drunk Miguel,” you dismiss him, knowing it will upset him more. You pushed against his chest, but he holds you in place, “what?!”

“Who is that?”

“Why do you care? I’m sure this party is full of your conquests.”

Miguel just stared at you, his eyes darkening even more. You see his jaw clench, then he dropped his head slightly, his eyes moving over your bare shoulders. He grabbed the strap of your dress and snapped it back in place.

“Does he know I bought this dress with all the money I made us?”

“Correction,” you tilt your head to meet his line of sight, "I purchased this dress! Get over it.”

You pushed him off of you with force, then started to walk away. Miguel grabbed your forearm, whipping you back into place against the wall. This time, he crowds you even more, using his own body as a block.

Miguels eyes clouded with lust as he takes you in. He grips your neck with his right hand and holds your hip with his left. Your eyes fell to his lips as they parted slightly, you have him right where you want him. Using only his eyes, Miguel devours you like a man in need of a meal.

“When I’m finished with you, you’ll forget all about your date.” He growled.

You challenge him. "Yeah, doubt it."

Miguel wastes no time hiking your dress up over your hips. He uses his knee to part your thighs and kisses you with so much passion, so much desire you nearly lose your balance. There's no time to think, to stop yourself. Everything happens in a fevered pace and Miguel fucks you hard and fast against the wall. When that position became too trying, you moved over to the couch.

Miguel was rough, possessive, ravenous. Something about fucking him this time feels more dangerous than the other times. Like he's a demon trying to fuck your soul away, to sign you over to him forever. In the back of your mind, you wondered, no matter how fucking good this feels, if Miguel's possessive behavior will be much worst.

While he fucked you, even used his belt to tie your wrist together. You knew, if he could, he'd have you all night long, but he made the best with the time he had and took you in every way he could.

When you were close to coming, he pulled out, teasing you, waiting for you to beg for more until he gave it to you. In the aftermath of your lust, you laid there, catching your breath, seeing stars, unable to move. It was only when a knock came at the door did you both rise, it was Azul.

Miguel covered your naked body with a blanket and went to the door, only opening it slightly. You overheard what was said, the infamous Pacho Herrera was on his way.

Taking some time to clean yourself up, you make it back to the party. From a distance you see a girl flirting with your date, and if anything, you feel happy for him. You are more than aware you have a big 'do not touch' sign on you now, and honestly, you kind of like it. You also revel in Miguels boldness, to sweep you away like that, at this party full of people and watchful eyes, with his wife right outside. Bold.

You get another drink at the bar then head over to some associates. As all of you chat, your mind focuses on one thing: Pacho. You'd be lying if you said you weren't excited to see the legend up close, in the flesh, for a second time.

The first time you saw Pacho was at a meeting, Miguel took you with him, at the suggestion of someone else. They said you'd be a pleasant sight for the Cali Cartel, and it wouldn't hurt having you there. Miguel took the advice, and that was the first time you saw Pacho in person.

The whole meeting you couldn't think straight. Pacho was sexy as hell and every time his eyes landed on yours you nearly came right here. The man has serious vibes and if you had the chance to sleep with him, you would. Even if it only ever happened once, that's good enough for you.

You left that meeting thinking you'd never see Pacho again. Now, knowing you will, fills with a great sense of excitement.

When Pacho arrived, near the end of the band singing happy birthday to Miguel, it took your breath away. Your eyes were locked on him, and you were far from the only one watching him. He took his time, walked at a slow yet purpose filled pace. Once he and Miguel walked off together, you devised a plan.

You know this property like the back of your hand, Miguels had you over enough times you could draw a map. Using your knowledge, you make your way to the small church, unseen, hiding in the shadows. You carry your heels in your hand, careful to be as quiet as possible. When you reached the church, you tried to eavesdrop but were quickly intercepted by Azul.

"Just going for a walk, too many people at the party." You flash a big smile at him and act drunk.

Azul lets it go, and nods.

You walk in the other direction and head back to the water fountain. On the walk, you think of another way to cross paths with Pacho. You cannot waste this opportunity, even with the risks involved.

Years ago, you gained the nickname Fox, and it wasn't without reason. You would find a way to catch Pacho's' eye. You heard Pacho is bisexual and knowing that put all kinds of ideas in your head, knowing you had a chance changed everything. It also changed your perspective on the day you met. Part of you was convinced he was looking at you with desire in his eyes. Part of you thought you were making it up, so you just chalked it up to wishful thinking.

You didn't know much about the man, even with a reputation, there was still so much about him that was a mystery. Still, he seems like the type to know all about everyone else. Part of you wondered, if he knew about you. Was he ever curious about you?

As your mind continues to wander, you make your way back to the church, this time out of Azul's line of sight. You think about how fucking Pacho could be the biggest fuck-you to Miguel. You weren't a bad person, and normally not so vengeful, but Miguel is a damn vampire and he hurt you many times over.

He's able to pull out the villain in you, in a way no one else could. Anything you give him, he has coming. Even with all the tenderness of your past together, but that died out a long time ago. You try to not think about that part too much.

The doors of the church finally opened, then closed. Pacho exits first, cocky and sexy as all hell. Miguel is still inside. You can tell whatever happened in the church went in Pacho's favor.

You take a moment to scope the landscape, then make a b line for Pacho's car. You noticed it was parked away from all the other guests, and it would make it easier for you to act on your plan. When you got there, you encountered the strange yet curious Navegante.

At the sight of you, he stopped leaning on the car and walked over to you. He stepped into your personal space with a weird little smile on his face. You wait for him to speak, he doesn't, not right away.

“Did you see the tiger? I touched it.”

You don't know whether you want to laugh, or back away. And he sure looks proud of this little fact.

You start to respond, “I -”

Before you could get the rest of your words out, Pacho appears.

Though you've seen him before, this feels like the first time all over again. You feel your heartbeat faster and your pulse quicken the moment his eyes fall on you. And when he speaks your name, you hold your breath. You've heard your name all your life, but from his lips, from his lips it feels like the most seductive thing you've ever heard.

You smile, "you remembered." Your eyes lock on his.

He motions to the car with a small hand gesture, “What do you think you’re doing?”

You can see in his face; he sees through your innocent act. Of course he does.

“I wanted to see you up-close, too many people back there. Last time, we were in a room full of people too.” You replied confidently.

He smirks, looks at Navegante then back at you. “You’re a sneaky little thing.”

“You have no idea.”

Something flashes in his brown eyes you can't name or describe. Whatever it is, it takes your breath away. You unconsciously raise your hand to your chest and fiddle with your necklace.

Pacho slides his hands in his pockets and looks your over. Then signals to Navegante who gets in the driver's seat. You hold your breath and watch as Pacho walks over to the passenger side. Just as he's about to get in, he says, "get in."

Your heart is pounding even faster now. Would you really fuck Miguel and Pacho in the same night? Could you be that much of a sinner? Was that even possible?

You open the back door and hop in fast before anyone sees. The car speeds off into the night.

The hotel is nice. His room is a deluxe suit with two floors, large enough for a group. You haven't seen the upstairs yet.

The car ride over was quiet, strange, a thick electricity in the air. Back at the hotel, you sit in the living room area, a drink in your hand, trying to anticipate what's going to happen next. Your nervousness building by the second.

Pacho still doesn't say much, he watches you, like an animal stalking its prey. He's cool, calm, in control. He doesn't do anything in a rushed way, not even when he made your drink. He took his time and observing him was - exciting. This man exudes controlled, confident dominance in every single thing he does.

Oddly enough, in this period of waiting, you had more conversation with Navegante. Unsurprisingly, he was talking about weird shit, random stuff, but you actually found it amusing. At one point, Pacho left you with Navegante, as he went upstairs to the upper level. You were starting to wonder if this was a bad idea, then, he called for you.

You're hyper aware of every step you take, as you reach the second-floor landing and step into the room. There's a lounge area with a long couch, then a small hallway you assume leads to the second bathroom and the bedroom. There's a second bar up here, a smaller one. Pacho is making daiquiris in a white robe. His beautiful dark hair was wet.

“Sit.”

He motions to the couch, you do.

He brings the drink over and sits beside you. Same as the first drink, he watched you quietly as you tasted it. Once he's pleased with your reaction, he stands again.

“What was your goal, seeking me out?”

You bite your lip, feeling nervous as hell. Now that you're completely alone with him, your courage was starting to fade.

“I traveled a long way, don’t act shy now."

You place the drink down on the side table and sit up straighter. “I thought about you for months, since the first time I saw you. Is it a sin to be - curious?”

Pacho does that little thing with his nose, the thing you saw back at the meeting months ago and thought it was cute as hell. As the seconds pass without his response, you start to wonder what he’s thinking.

You didn't have to wait too long. Pacho sits beside you, his body feeling warm and setting all your sense on fire. He leans in, eyes locked on yours, “Stand-up” he points to the space before him.

You do as he commands.

Pacho reclined back, sipping his drink as he takes you in. “Strip. Slowly.”

Your heart skips a beat.

You do as he commands.

Taking your time, you strip off the tight black dress that Miguel’s money did indeed pay for. You could have used your own, but you were saving your money and mostly splurged with his. Something about that thought alone was adding to your arousal. Stripping in front of Pacho's' penetrative gaze in a dress bought for you with Miguel money? It's scandalous.

Standing naked before him, you feel the most vulnerable you've ever felt, the most - seen. Something about the way Pacho looks at you is unmatched. Your desire for him burns red and hot, your body craving his touch, his lips, more of his commands.

Pacho, maintaining his relaxed position, draws you closer to him with a single finger.

With a few steps, you close the distance between your bodies. Without breaking eye contact, Pacho unties his robe.

Dropping to your knees like some common whore you wait eagerly to take him in, to welcome him with your mouth and indulge in one part of your numerous Pacho fantasies.

Your wish is soon met. He fills your mouth; you take him in with pleasure. When you deep throat him the sound he makes nearly sends you to heaven. Fuck, you just made Pacho make that sound. You pull out all the stops, casting your spell on the man you couldn't stop thinking about for months. Finally, when Pacho can’t take it anymore he pulls you away by your hair and guides you to the bed toward the back of the massive suite

“On your back, knees up.”

Eager, you do so quickly, getting in place on the bed and gazing at him with flirty eyes. He takes his time walking over to you. Once he climbs on the bed, his body hovers over your own, you can feel his arousal pressing into you.

The bastard teases you.

Ghosting his lips over your, but not kissing you. Pulling your head back when you try to kiss him. Using his lips and tongues to leave a trail of kisses down your body and in-between your legs. He continues to explore your body, in any way he sees fit, his mouth, tongue and fingers all working masterfully, driving you over the edge.

Each time you get too close to coming, he stops, making you wait, enjoying the way you whine for him. You quickly learn your lesson and behave; you stop trying to kiss him and try to control your body.

Once Pacho deems you obedient and patient, he finally slides his cock inside of you. With all the teasing, he's worked you up nicely, you take all of him with ease, he stretches you more than anyone else has, filling you deliciously. His strong-arm wraps around your body to hold you in place as he bottoms out in you.

You nearly come then and there, and when he finally kisses you; any sense of time or space disappears. Pacho fucks you hard, so deep, leaving you dazed and breathless as he continues his lust filled stokes, the whole time he holds you in a vice like grip. Kissing you so deeply, so passionately, you forget anyone who's ever kissed you before.

He maintains control the entire time, the intensity never letting up, even when you change positions. At certain points, you're sure you've broken skin, digging your nails deep into his back, his arms, his thighs - you've become utterly intoxicated by Pacho.

Finally, when you can't take anymore, dancing on the edge of release, Pacho pulls out completely. He makes you lay flat on your stomach. You know better than to beg for him.

Pacho sits back, strocking himself and catching his breath. You can feel his eyes burning into you. Just as silence falls in the room, his hand come down hard to slap your ass, leaving a burning sensation, he slaps the other cheek. You grab the pillows beneath your head.

“Should I let you come?”

“Yes, please.”

“I don't know if you deserve it,” he slaps your ass again.

“Please.” You begged.

His big strong hands come to your hips, fingers digging into you as he pulls your ass up in the air. He frees one hand, placing it flat on your back, keeping you in position.

He adjusts behind you, getting comfortable and lining himself up with your entrance. Without warning, he slams into you, knocking you off balance. He holds you in place and finds his rhythm again. You didn't even recognize the sounds leaving your lips as he fucks you, sounds you never made before.

Then sweet release comes.

The room spins and you're not sure if you're actually going to pass out or not. Your vision fades as pleasure explodes in your body. Pacho comes, your name soft on his lips as he does.

Once he pulls out, Pacho rolls onto his back, closing his eyes to catch his breath. You look at him, still on your stomach, his hair in his face, lips parted. This man is fucking beautiful.

When his dark eyes find yours, he shifts ever so slightly and cups your face, pulling you close to him. His lips, his beautiful lips you've started at more than once, now roll over yours. Moving his hand to the back of your head, Pacho grips tight, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth before claiming your lips again.

Kissing him is dizzying. You kiss until your lips are swollen and slick. He draws back, keeping eye contact with you as he caresses the length of your neck.

A smile draws on his lips as he lays on his back,

“What's that look?” You asked.

“You look tired, don’t fall asleep on me now. I have plans for you -” when his eyes meet yours again a sense of excitement and slight worry overcomes you. Whatever else Pacho had in mind, you were definitely not getting any sleep tonight.

“Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6

#narcos mexico #pacho herrera #miguel angel felix gallardo #not the real guys #just the show and actor #narcos Mexico oneshot #pacho narcos #Miguel narcos #pacho oneshot #miguel x female reader #pacho herrera x female reader #By artemiseamoon #please read warning at top #fic: sin #read warnings

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