#pero tovar smut

[chronically-ghosted]

iron and charcoal

rating: explicit 18+ pairing: pero tovar x f!reader word count: 6.9K summary: Sana sana culito de rana. Si no sana hoy, sanará mañana. But there would be no tomorrow. No future, no light of dawn – not without –  Her. He’d never heal because tomorrow would never come.  OR Pero falls hard for a princess and doesn’t know what to do with himself on your wedding night. warnings: angst, brief classism/xenophobia two very stubborn people, pero experiences one Human Emotion and cannot fully process it, arranged marriage, yearning, smut LIKE WOW, soft!pero that i broke my own heart with a/n: Thank you so much to @perotovar for this request: "congrats on your milestone, my love! so happy for you <33 i'm sending a little astrology 💫 + pero & #6 on the fluffy list OR #1 on the smutty list (whichever is speaking to you), because i wanna see your take on him 👀” – of course I chose the slutty one, just for you 😉 I’m actually pretty proud of this one - please consider reblogging if you like it too!

*the image in the header is for aesthetic purposes only and does not reflect the appearance of the reader*

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Sana sana culito de rana. Si no sana hoy, sanará mañana. 

Sometimes before battle, the clatter inside Pero’s head goes silent. It listens. It waits. 

Other times, it roars. Memories of family, of dead amigos, of mujeres he fucked – they all buck and scratch for a chance to blaze across his mind like a dust storm kicked up by an unbroken mustang. 

He doesn’t know which one he prefers or which one will win out. They both have their uses, necessary states of mind to survive whatever is barreling towards him – an ax, a monster out of legend, some other drunken mercenary he intentionally pissed off. It’s an unconscious decision, yet one that has served him well so far. He wouldn’t be alive today if some deep, primal part of him knew what he needed to live through another battle. 

And yet, his own trunk knocking against his hips as he climbed the sickly ostentatious stone steps to the top of the parapet, the handles starting to pinch his fingers, the barest – nearly invisible – tremor in his knees, he cannot fathom, for the life of him, why that singular phrase from his abuela played in his head like water swirling around and around a cenote. 

Sana sana culito de rana. Si no sana hoy, sanará mañana. 

Sana sana culito de rana. Si no sana hoy, sanará mañana. 

His inner voice, taking on a myriad of forms, of sounds and voices, never quite standing still, the one companion he could always rely on. 

Maybe it was warning him. Dust yourself off, boy, you know exactly how this was going to end. 

Sana sana culito de rana. Si no sana hoy, sanará mañana. 

But there would be no tomorrow. No future, no light of dawn – not without –

Her.

He’d never heal because tomorrow would never come.

He feels sweat escape from the nape of curls at his neck, his cheeks warm and chest hot. Two more flights, he can manage two more flights. 

His abuela also liked to tell him something else: if hell doesn’t get him, his pride certainly will. 

It’s certainly what got him into this ridiculous farce in the first place. Because he can’t alchemize whatever is in his gut into vocalized syllables, he instead has to climb a truly incalculable amount of stairs, while carrying a ragged, torn trunk that weighs as much as his armor. 

Because he can’t form the right words, any words, about what he carries lodged beneath his breastbone for her. What draws him up and up and up and up because it’s lighter than hope, makes him lighter than air, and yet it clogs him up, chokes him out all the same. His pride, his vanity, cuts through it, through her – enough to keep him tongueless and dry but not enough to offer this lightness in his chest to her, for her. He can’t take the light out of him or else he fears what he will truly become.

So, he walks, he goes around and around on unforgiving stone steps until finally there is a door. He thinks about waiting, to catch his breath, but he knows he will just as easily turn around and go back the way he came, trunk still heavy and knocking against his hips, and that pride will be the death of him. So he keeps going, opens the handle, and makes abrupt eye contact with the two guards outside her door. They seem uninterested and unamused in his sweaty, stilted breathing, but by his less-than-royal attire, they easily clock him as one of their own; a man who fights to make his way in the world. The one on the left nods jerkily at him. 

What they see him as, what he will always be, is nearly the reason he kicks that fucking trunk all the way back down. Instead, he nods back, shoulders rounded, eyes down. 

“The princesa - the princess - is requesting the last of her things, to be b-brought up from the stables –,” he clears his throat, “drop this off for her and –,”

“Can’t let you in. King’s orders.” The one on the right sees him as something else – a foreigner first and foremost, their similar stations in life irrelevant. His bright blue eyes rove over Pero’s dark skin, dark hair, jagged scar, distaste and disgust smearing his already ugly features. But he had been dealing with men like these all his life.

“Bueno, you can explain to the King himself why his daughter’s belongings were lost and disregarded. I hear she’s very fond of the Italian prints at the bottom of this . . .”

The guards glance at each other, calculating way above their paygrade. Pero jostles the trunk as if to show he is not above throwing it out the window. 

“Fine.” The second one snaps. “Drop it inside and come back immediately.”

He drops his head, a good little foreign boy. “Gracias, señor.” 

The heavy wooden door opens beneath the iron lock and the instant he is through, he bolts it behind him. Waits to see if the guards notice. They don’t. Perfectamente – all the time in the world. 

All in the time in the world – for what? 

To fail? Again?

He stows the trunk in front of the door, extra time, a few seconds maybe – as if she wouldn’t just tell him to get out the instant she laid eyes on him. Only time will tell. 

Out of the atrium, another door, this one set deep into the wall. A last line of defense. He knocks, once, then twice, then waits. El orgullo chokes him again but fuck it, he’s come this far. He knocks again, knocks something in his chest free and, with it, spill the words:

“Princesa? It’s me. I –,” it throttles him, “princesa, can you open the door?” 

Silence. His heart sits, buried in that trunk. Then –

“It’s unlocked, Pero.” 

His heart in his throat, he opens the door to presumably what will be your marriage bed. And yet, by the state of things, you could have been moving out of it. Trunks and bags stack high against the far wall – those fucking trunks he made such a scene over because the unnecessary weight would slow them all down remain untouched, arranged as they had been when they had been first brought in. He didn’t quite know what to make of that, his thumb absently pressing into the callus of his other hand as he glanced around. It is a beautiful room – tall windows, etched in scarlet drapes, to match the scarlet curtains around the bed. With gold thread and impossibly detailed paintings of the countryside, it is fit for a princess, a some-day queen. This is where someone with royal blood deserved to be, not in the back of a hot carriage for weeks on end, surrounded by dirty, loud, rough men. 

And yet, with your hair down, expansive gown from the ball tonight replaced with a simple cotton dress, you could not have been more out of place. Pero’s heart lurches briefly, moisture seeping from his mouth, as he realizes this is the same dress he bought you when the two of you had been accidentally separated by the caravan and your previous dress had been ruined in the mud. He had no idea you still kept it, much less wore it ever again. 

But if anyone asked him, you look more beautiful in this than any silk or velvet. 

Instead of unpacking, settling into your new home and eventual role as wife, you sit hunched over at the intricately carved mahogany desk, eagle feather quill scratching against parchment. You finish with a flourish and look over your shoulder at him, your eyes annoyingly unreadable. 

“Yes?”

A stupid brute some may call him, but he wasn’t entirely without awareness. Observation of your customs and what you considered inappropriate only encouraged him: if you really didn’t want him here, you would never have let him see you in this state.

But it’s hard to remember that under your icy stare. 

“Y-your things, Princesa. The last from the caravan.”

Your eyes slide over him, to the trunk in the shadows of the atrium. He can tell from a single glance that you know as well as he that trunk is not yours, that no one told him to come here with it, and yet he did it all the same. Something flashes over your eyes but it’s gone by the time you meet his gaze again. 

“Thank you. I am, as always, indebted to you.” 

He hates your words, but warmth spreads in his gut at the way you say it. That’s how it’s always been between you and him – saying one thing but meaning another. He’d never appreciated a sharp mind like yours until he realized you wield it as he wields a sharp sword. 

There are many things he’d never even dreamed of before he met you.

“Then, this means you’re leaving, I suppose.” You draw your sword against him. The metal flashes in your eyes as you stand, one hand against the curved tip of your chair. A bronze halo rims your outline, the fire behind you burning bright and hot. He knows if he touched your shoulder, your neck, your skin would be wonderfully warm. 

He wets his lips. “Si. Our contract with your father is done.” 

You drop his gaze, your lips tightening for a minute, your fingers running through the carvings of wood on the chair. “Even with William in his state? Would it not be better for him to stay and recover? The journey home is –,” you pause, as though someone had thrown a hand over your mouth, “– the journey back east is long.” 

All the longer without you.

“William, he is not an idle man. Two days of bedrest is often all he can take.” 

You grin, in spite of this thing circling you both. “Unless he finds the nun attending to him beautiful.

“He finds them all beautiful.” 

Your smile expands wide across your bright face when you find him smiling at you too. 

This – if this is to be his last memory of you (his heart wrenches at the thought) – this is the you he wants imprinted on his soul: smiling and glowing by firelight. 

But as quickly as it came, that grin that warms him down to his bones, fades. In an instant, your eyes grow soft, your mouth twisted, jaw tight.

“Where will you go?” you ask, in the quietest voice you’d ever addressed him with. 

It pains him, physically aches within him, to hear the distress in your voice. He hasn’t even thought about the next contract, the next royal cabrón who intends to yank him all across God’s green earth to perform a task he can’t be fucked to take on himself. How can he possibly answer you? Nowhere, without you. To rot in a dark hole in the ground? Off a cliff? What answer would provide you or him any sort of satisfaction?

“Wherever the coin goes,” he says and the words scrape his tongue like bile. That ache in his chest spiraling rapidly, deep into his gut – like a poisoned limb he cannot amputate – he does the same thing he always does when he’s hurt: he makes others hurt until they leave him alone. “You do not have to worry, princesa, your new husband will keep you in such comfort you will never wonder where the coin comes from.”

He must be a truly sick man, for the knife-sharp glare you throw at him only knots arousal around the base of his spine. It tugs on something attached directly to his groin which, in turn, yanks the next words out of his mouth.

“He looked especially happy with you in his arms on the dance floor tonight.”

The icy shards in your eyes go brittle and crack. His heart races; he’s overplayed his hand. 

“You watched me dance?”

“All guardsmen were required to –,”

You shake your head, eyes bright and searing through him. “No. It was only the King’s Knights there in attendance.” 

Your hand trailing off the edge of the chair, you take a step forward and he feels his weight shift back onto his heels. But he remains firm. 

Sana, sana.

“Pero, why did you come here tonight?”

“To return the last of your things, princesa. What else is there?”

You flinch, as if he had raised his voice to you. What else is there indeed?

“Not even to . . .  say goodbye? Sixteen weeks on the road is an awfully long time to be around someone, only for them to . . . leave so soon.”

He locks his knees to keep them from shaking. “Do you wish for me to tell you goodbye, princesa?” 

There’s something painfully sad about the way you smile at him. “I wish for whatever would make you happiest.” 

Anger roars within him, hungry and hot, like a burn from a white flame. Why can’t you just admit it? Why do you avoid it time and time again? He knows he hasn’t misread anything you’ve sent his way, so why? Why are you so vested in torturing him this way? 

“Coin makes me happy and, now that I have it, there’s nothing to keep me here.”

There, that hurts you too, just as he meant it.

“Then leave.” They could make ice fortresses out of the strength of your bone-cold stare. “If you have nothing else to say, then take your goddamn trunk and get out of my sight.” 

The flame scorches him, ripping him apart and in his anger, making him cruel.

He bows to you.

“I imagine you will be very happy with your new husband, ranita.”

The term slips from his lips before he can stop it, but his throat and cheeks blister so badly, he physically can’t open his mouth to correct his mistake. Instead, he turns and strides towards the door.

He thinks he hears a gasp from behind him, a sharp sound like breaking glass – small, tinkling, tragic. It spears him through his chest, pierces his heart. 

He gets to the door and pauses.

If you have nothing else to say . . .

Of course he has something to say – words in English and Spanish and broken dialects gathered like poisonous lichen all churning in the boiling cauldron of his mind, but nothing will suffice – nothing reflects or compares to the grief he is already feeling, the despair, the anguish that has settled into all the fleshy joints in his body. Not his pride, but this, saying goodbye to you, this is what actually will kill him.

Every word imaginable crawls up his throat and rages in his mouth, presses up against his teeth, begging for something, anything to be let out, to be free, to tell you that he cannot fucking live without you–

Nothing comes through, but one single word.

“Don’t.” 

The fire crackles in the silence, a wicked god pleased at the display of carnage.

“What did you say?”

A dull thud echoes from where he drops his forehead against the wood of the door, all anger flooding out of his system. Do you have any idea the power you hold over him? One request, one tremor in your voice and his knees all but buckle at your altar. 

Fuck it. 

He always thought he’d go out in a blaze of bloody glory, but he’d never expected to be so exposed, so flayed like this.

“Don’t,” he repeats, his throat as dry as sand. “Do not . . . marry him. Please.” 

The vision of your great warrior slumped against the door frame, his neck bent, shoulders curled up to his ears has your already pounding heart leaping forward into a gallop. He is defeated, laid low. You watch his guts all but pool out on your hearth. 

He looks about as hopeless and anguished as you feel. 

Your soldier, your man of iron and charcoal, goes blurry in your eyes.

“And what would you have me do, Pero?” Your plea is damp, malleable at the edges. You press your hand flat against your chest, near your throat, as if you could pull the grief lodged there with your fingers. “I have been engaged to this man before I was even born. How can I stop this?” 

“Fight.” The word snarls against his bare teeth. He turns, his eyes liquid ink, and suddenly he has you by the shoulders. His thumbs nervously skitter around the curve of your shoulder, gaze just as unsteady and unfocused as it wavers between your hands, your earlobe, your neck. "Where is my brave girl who fights for what she wants, hm? Fight – for me, please.”

Fight, he asks – but in spite of him or because of him?

You lay your hands on the silver shine of his breastplate, watch as they rise and fall with his steady flow of breath. How many nights had you woken up against that shine, in the crook of his arm for warmth, or protection? You didn’t cherish it at the time because you never knew when it would be your last. 

“Why won’t you fight, princesa?” His voice is low, strained, the groan of a wagon wheel before it breaks. You meet his gaze and the exposed look on his face, softening every line on his mouth and around his eyes, nearly sends you into hysterics. You swallow the tears, swallow the hook in your throat as your fingers curl around the clasps of his cape. 

"Because if I don't fight then I can't lose.” His fingers slip from your shoulders, to your elbows, to your waist. You inhale and the scents of warm leather, oil, and ash flood your mouth. The tip of your nose is inches from the scruff of beard against his cheek, the ruddy brown of his sun-drenched skin. He has curled you into him and this, you do not fight either. His massive palms map your back, against your skin, but without any urgency or control. “If I can’t lose, that means I don’t lose you. You'll just be . . . gone."

That last word is a lie. It hangs in the air like a sweltering humid rain and you both know you’re lying. He has you wrapped up in his arms, you didn’t stop him even for a second, and you are all too aware that it would take some great, insidious alchemy to ever truly tear him out of you. 

You stare at his silver collar, defiant against the waves you had managed to shackle down until this very moment: a wave of hopeless crashes into you, a wave of heartbreak, a wave of helpless that fills your eyes to the point of spilling with that very same salt water.

He touches your cheek delicately, fingers rough with callouses, and the floodgates break open with a sob. 

“Preciosa,” he rumbles softly against your hairline, “hush. You break my heart with your tears.” 

“Do not mock me, Tovar. Not now.” you sniff, trying to turn your face but his wide hands catch you around the cheeks.

“You are beyond mocking. I’d show you my heavy heart but I do not wish that weight on anyone.” The snag of his rough thumbs against your cheek draws your watery gaze to him. His mouth is a flat line, barred against whatever climbs his throat, but his eyes move like mercury across your nose, your eyelashes, the arch of your cheek. Your fingers wrap themselves around his wrists, a grounding agent against the waves that threaten to pull you under. 

“Pero, I –,”

“I have fought you, tooth and nail, for days without end. Every favor, every breath, you have forced them from me. I fight my own mind when I sleep at night. Sueños, always of the same woman.” He smears away the tears with his thumbs, gently, sweetly, before pressing his lips to your wet flesh by his knuckle. He inhales deeply, eyes closed, mouth hovering stationary above the skin of your cheek. “You fight me every step of the way . . . and I am so tired of fighting.” 

For all your struggling, for all your tearing and clawing and snarling against the blooming in your chest, nothing is as easy as it is to turn your head and press your lips to his. 

The brush of his bristled mustache against your upper lip. His warm, rough palms holding you steady. His lips soft and hot. You are overwhelmed by the scent of him.

There is nothing like, and nothing will ever be like, finally kissing Pero Tovar. 

All it takes is the movement of his hands from your cheeks to your lower back, the light trace of his tongue against your lips, and the yearning you’d been smothering for weeks now roars to life. His hands squeeze your hips and you can suddenly barely breathe. 

“Pero–,” the noise in the shape of his name that escapes you is near a whine, begging. He nips at your lips, hand firmly at the cup of your jaw, mouth now rough and insistent, and your fingers claw up his neck, wrapping themselves in his dark curls. You tug, nails scratching his scalp, and he groans into your mouth as if you’d just kneed him in the gut.

A thread-bare gasp of your name from his lips splits you from him, then his hand on your hip and the back of your neck pushing you backwards gives you enough air to breathe – to think.

"Your husband will know you're not a virgin,” Pero warns, breathing hard and fast, his eyes like black flints, “if we go on." 

You curl your fingers around his neck, dragging your mouth near his jaw, the soft skin at the edge of his ear.

"Then he will also know my heart is not his either.” You ask everything of him with this. His armor blocks his warm body from you – you want to sink inside his hard shell. “If you’ll have it.”

He is not himself, half-human with an inhuman want, with the snarl that leaves him. 

“Don’t make such promises, dulzura –,” A threat, a dog forced to expose its underbelly, fear radiating like the pain from a broken bone. Your fingers dig into the buckles of his cape, steadying you against a sudden terrible awareness that bloomed, purple-bruised. 

“Unless you don’t want –,” 

The desk rattles when your hips break against it, the force of his kiss enough to topple over your inkwell, spill rolls of parchment to the floor. The wood groans under your weight when he gathers the thick swell of your thighs in his hands, heaves you onto the flat surface, and spreads your knees around his waist. He is as hard as the iron on his chest. 

“Can you feel how much I want you?”

A frantic sigh of relief, a groan shared between two pairs of lips, seeking skin and warmth and other hungry places. 

He drags you onto his chest, your skirt bunched up around your hips, the rings of his armor digging into the soft flesh of your thighs, his mouth covering yours in wet pulls, and he stands up right, as though you weighed less than his sword. 

A stumble, and he spreads you out on the velvet covers of your marriage bed, his hands imprinting on your hips, your knees, the supple meat of your calves. The touch of him on your bare skin feels like the licks of flames, the smoke of arousal blurring your awareness and dragging your eyelids half-closed. On his heels at the edge of the bed, the flint shards of his eyes drift over the bones of your ankles, the bend of your knee, your heaving chest, hair in snarls around your neck and caught behind your back, and finally to your cunt, hidden by the folds of your dress. 

Velvet hums as you slide your ankles to the curve of your ass, widening your legs, parting your knees. His lips part open, dark want etching every line of his face. You feel the wet linen of your dress cling to your achy cunt. He swallows, unbuckling his cape one latch at a time, his eyes nowhere else. The metal clatters as it falls to the floor.

Piece by piece, the chinks in his armor fall away. Piece by piece, he is revealed to you. Your hands rise up, up your thighs to your knees, your thumbs rubbing soft circles. He watches, never tears his gaze away from your sticky hole, his nimble fingers working away the buckles and knots with practiced precision. You can see it in his eyes – memories of bedrolls by firelight, of such a deep painful, yearning ache, separated only by thin tarp, they are a physical weight beside you in this marriage bed. 

You see them because they’re there for you too. You see them because you've been here a dozen times, on your back, legs spread wide, your hands circling but never dipping, waiting. Wanting. For him. 

His bare chest is warm, the wings of his ribs expanding around short, half-drawn breaths, as he crawls up into your pliant mouth. The kisses are slow, like before, with a crackle of heat just beyond them, his hips slipping into the cradle of your thighs, the wet warmth of you separated by the thin linen of your dress. He sucks the tendon below your ear, a whine slipping out of your mouth, fingers spreading over the harsh planes of his back, and his cock bobs against your thigh. 

Pero is bare and warm and entirely yours. All man beneath the sweltering armor. 

“Amorcita,” he drips into your ear, kisses smeared against your collarbone, your mouth, your earlobe, “amorcita, amorcita . . . ranita, let me take you.” 

He starts to use teeth, a harder nip behind his kisses, when he dips down to your chest. A wide palm with stocky fingers grasps at your breast and it’s a startling sensation for you both. 

“Soft,” he moans before licking up under the supple curve of your breast, mouthing at what his tongue missed. He slips your erect nipple into his mouth and twists it between his teeth. “Sweet,” he murmurs with your nipple firmly between his lips. 

This is unlike anything you’ve felt before. You deliriously thank the gods that he hadn’t touched you like this on the road; you would have kept him, your own wild animal, in bed without rest for days on end.

Pero plucks just as aggressively at your other breast, the spit-wet nipple that preoccupied his mouth verging on purple and aching. He cups you from the outside this time, squeezing and massaging, ringing your nipple with his tongue until your back bows and you let out a whine that has his eyes flickering up to you, the scent of wounded prey filling his nostrils. 

That whine of pleasure elongates into a whimper: “please.”

“Tranquila, ranita.” His touch is softer around your bruised tits, but he keeps one hand bagging the weight of your breast while the other slips beneath your skirt.

The pads of his fingers brush your creamy cunt and with a yelp, you grab him by the wrist, your eyes open with a familiar emotion he draws out of you: rage.

“Pero Tovar, if you value your life you will take me under the covers and put your —,”

He chuckles, his cheek against yours, nose rimming the velvet hairs on the ridges of your ear. The vibrations liquify the tension in your bones, loosening your grip. Your eyes flutter, slick obviously running down his fingers. “Ranita, I don’t think you know how you want to end that sentence..”

His words roll like honey over the heat of your skin. It makes your skin tremble. Your grip tightens on his wrist and you roll your hips, your swollen clit finally relieved by the pressure of his palm. 

“Oh, oh, Pero—,” 

With a grunt, he shuffled closer, elbow by your shoulder and he cups your entire wet cunt in his hand, pushing the heel of his palm flatter against you. You cry out, a sparkling kind of pleasure radiating out from where his hand rests. You buck your hips faster, complete release flickering through your outstretched hand. 

“Can you come like this?” You nod, eyes squeezed shut as you barrel towards escape, and you feel him shudder next to you. You are intimately aware that he’s rubbing his cock on the crease of your hip bone but that only drags you faster towards the light. “Then come, ranita, come and I’ll fuck you.” 

The wet, curling heat growing between your legs descends, then in a bright snap, explodes across your body. 

“Fuck!” You tear open your eyes to find them damp, Pero’s massive hand cupping your cheek towards him, his stallion eyes dark as his fingers drag on the soaked material of your dress, your hips slowing. 

“Amorcita, breathe.” The words are torn from his chest, all cock-suredness gone from his frantic gaze. You gulp in air, the weight of his body over yours grounding and smothering you all at once. He pulls his hand away from you, rides it up your thigh to your waist, looking for something to hold onto. He strokes his thumb once against your overheated skin and you’re wriggling up out of your dress. 

“Help,” you hiss and his fingers nearly tear the fabric off you.

With a few undone buttons, you shiver out of your dress, the slick-drenched spots catching on your warm skin. He flings it behind him, near the fireplace. 

He takes you barely beneath the thick covers before you welcome him back to the heat of your open legs. 

But instead of reeling back and plunging his aching cock into you, he takes the time to kiss you. To praise you in all the ways he fears his mouth will end up short. He kisses you, grateful, reverent – wonderful to be swallowed by but also a distraction.

When he lifts your knees by his waist, your hips automatically tilt towards him and for the first time, you feel his red, sore cock between your tacky lips. The dual sensation nearly drags you over the rack of delectably delicious pleasure, as does his worn, broken groan in your ear. 

“More, please, don’t stop.” You cry against the bristles of his beard, his hand dropping between your sweat-slick bodies, finding yours already there to guide him. The press of him spreads you open, filling you one sinking notch at a time. The sensation of your pink, dripping walls moving to take more of him in has you arching up into his chest, nails dragging into his back. His dry lips stifle the moans escaping from your mouth. 

Pero takes both of your hands in his, dragging them above your head, his fingers locking your palms together as his hips roll forward. “Cálmate, amorcita, cálmate,” he murmurs between distracted presses of his mouth against your chin, your cheek, his breathing heavy and stunted. You writhe, pinned open by his hips and his hands, his cock filling you all too slowly and not fast enough. 

With the last few inches, you take him completely, your cunt throbbing, heart pounding, intoxicated by the sensation of being so maddeningly full. Pero drapes over you, his head tucked into your neck, forearms straining with the tension of gripping your hands tightly. 

“Santa madre . . .” He is not a warrior right now. He is but a man, cunt-drunk and heaving. 

His name is pushed out of the bottom of your lungs with the first swing of his hips. You cling to him, knees at his ribs, unwilling to let even an inch of space between your bodies. But this becomes increasingly difficult as his thrusts gain speed. His flushed lips stain a sticky line against your jaw, down to your throat, and he releases your hands, the oak of the bed creaking beneath the force of him drilling down into you, he props himself up on his palms, his shoulders bent and curled over you, biceps straining, hairline damp, eyelids fluttering. The scar on his cheek is flushed pink.

“Look, amorcita, look how well you take me.”

His words tear you from your nebulous high, the grit of them forcing your head down to the obscene squelch beneath the sheets. The thatch of rough curls over his groin is drenched in slick, his thick cock soaked to the point of shine as it drives into you again and again. The heavy draft of breath the sight steals from him, the tap of his cock against a place so deep you didn’t know your body possessed, draws the spooling bliss as tight as a wire. 

Your trembling thighs squeeze him tighter, that hot pressure rendering you speechless, except for the most pathetic whine. Please, Pero, please, you think, you mutter, you whisper, your body rocking damp against the sheets. 

With a sudden snarl, he takes the chunk of your hair at the base of your head flat in his fists and tugs. A shoot of bright pain sparks bliss down to your tight and bruised nipples, and you cry out again. 

“Stop fighting, puedo sentir cuanto la quieres. Let me have it.” It is the following word that splits you open like lighting carving apart a tree. “Please.”

The wail that you release is the rush of gooseflesh over your skin alchemized into audible sound. Heat radiates through you, sucking the air from your lungs, your vision going blurry, then black as you clamp your eyes shut against the rush, the final release, that curls you into his arms. His warm, flushed arms, shaking with strain. A final wobbly thrust or two and his elbows are buckling, sweat-drenched chest pressing into your own.

Distantly, you are aware of the warm, slick drip down your thighs, his cock pulsing the last drops into your cum-flecked cunt, and the dangers this sort of intimacy poses. You can’t gather enough breath, enough sense to settle the spinning room, to worry or even care. 

Your his, and he is yours. That is all that will ever matter. 

The crackle of wood burning is the only other sound than your ragged breaths, the silent roll of sweat from sticky hot skins into the bedsheets. The stone walls of the castle’s room entomb you together for a brief stretch of infinity.

Pero moves and you think he’s going to back out of you, but instead, he merely adjusts, his head fully on your chest, thick fingers clutching your bruised waist, the shift of his cock pushing more of his release out of your oversensitive cunt. But you’ll take overstimulation over his absence every time. You run your fingers through his damp curls and he hums. 

“I’m sorry,” he huffs into your humid skin. “I’m sorry I let my pride keep us apart for so long.” 

You grin lazily to the ceiling, your breath settling as affection takes its place in your chest. 

“You were not the only one blinded by vanity.” 

“But I’m not blind. Not anymore.” He lifts his head, eyes as dark as your spilled inkwell. “I am never letting you go.” 

You smile at him, fingers soft against the back of his neck. “I don’t plan on wandering away.” 

His oil-black gaze drops to your lips and he leans forward to take your mouth against his. Gentle, but with the promise of more. 

“Mi ranita,” he purrs to break the kiss. 

“You call me that all the time, Pero. What does it mean?”

At that, a nearly shy expression crosses his face. He shakes his head, shifting onto his elbows to lift off you. “I can’t tell you. It will ruin your good mood.” 

You gasp, offended, and you grab him by the ear and twist. He chuckles through a grimace. “You will tell me what that means, Pero Tovar, if you value your appendages.” 

“Órale, princesa, retract your claws and I will tell you.” 

You release your grip and settle against your pillow. Grinning bashfully, he kisses your neck briefly.

“Remember that I love you after I tell you this.” 

Your heart nearly stops, the absence of a steady beat nearly drawing tears to your eyes but you hold firm. You breathe deeply against the fluttering in your stomach and pin him with your glare. Of course, this is how he would profess his love to you – when he’s trying to get out of trouble. 

“Tell me, Tovar!”

He chuckles again and preemptively picks up your hands. He kisses the inside of your palms, settling himself between your thighs. 

“It means little frog.” Your mouth falls open in a gasp and you struggle to yank your hands back from him, hissing like a tea kettle, but he uses his weight to press down on you. He nips at your nose. “I call you that because when you’re upset with me, much like you are now, you puff up like a bullfrog, your cheeks like this–,”

He rounds his cheeks full of air, crossing his eyes, and you simply cannot take the slight anymore. You push roughly against his gut, the breath trapped in his mouth escaping in a hot puff, and you twist him onto his back. He lets you, of course, his bold, full laughter rendering him defenseless. His body shakes beneath you, his beautiful eyes squeezed shut, his mouth open wide as he laughs and laughs and laughs. You take him by the wrists and push his limp hands over his head, pinning him as he had you. You pinch his chin with your teeth, your messy cunt over his stomach, as his laughter subsides. 

“Have you had your fun yet?” 

“Barely,” he chuckles, turning his big nose against your cheek and inhaling. He hums.

“Is that all I am to you? A joke?”

Pero opens his eyes, sober as death rattle. He takes you in, not in a hungry, all-consuming way, but in a look that speaks of awe and rapture.

“You are everything to me.”

You sigh, releasing his hands and curling into his chest. He kisses the top of your head, your eyes on the roaring fire. His thumbs rub your shoulder blades, trace the lines of your spine.

“You’re so very lucky I love you too.” 

His wandering against the expanse of your back stills, just for a moment, before his fingers slide into your hair, around the nape of your neck, holding you to him with the intention of keeping you there forever.

“I know, ranita, I know.” 

He watches you sleep as the sky lightens beyond the tall windows on the opposite side of the bedroom. The dying fire traces your edges in gold, settling heat in the curve of your lips. 

His heart lurches with the wanting of you.

There’s more terrible things to come, he knows that. The plan the two of you concocted in the early morning hours will be dangerous, deadly even. But dying together instead of living apart would be much more tolerable, you told him earlier that night, your hand on his chest. 

He would kill if you asked. He would kill, even if you didn’t, to keep you safe and by his side. You’ve proven yourself capable of living a life away from this spectacular opulence, but it pains him to know he will never be able to give you anything nearly as lovely as the velvet dresses in the closet, the gold jewelry in your trunks. 

Instead, all he has to offer is himself. His strength, his hands, his heart. It’s his own fear that tells him that’s not enough, because you remind him again and again that’s more than you ever wanted. 

He traces the curve of your cheek with the hovering pad of his finger, brushing your hair away from your face. How he ended up so lucky with your love, he’ll never know, but he will spend the rest of his days proving that he’s earned it. 

You stir in your sleep, sensing him above you, and he hates to steal even a few minutes of blissful sleep from you, knowing the endless nights that are coming. When he steals you away from all that you’ve ever known. 

The sleepy grumble in your throat resembles his name as he curls around you, but your eyes remain gently closed. He pulls you against him, the air that leaves your mouth and sits between your chest and his something he covets with his whole heart. 

I love you and I’m disgustingly lucky and I love you. 

He is a man made of dust, serving men made of silver. He is a man of dust, loving a woman made of gold.

El orgullo? No, Abuela, his ranita will get him first, last, and every time.

+

Translations:

Sana sana culito de rana. Si no sana hoy, sanará mañana. - This rhyme is typically said to children when they have just hurt themselves. The parent (or grandparent) usually rubs the part that is sore and sings this little tune. Literally translates to: "heal, heal, little frog’s tail. If you don’t heal today, you will heal tomorrow."

el orgullo - pride

dulzura - sweetness, romantic connotation

amorcita - little love, romantic connotation

Tranquila - quiet, as in "be quiet" or "relax"

Cálmate - take it easy, or take it slow

puedo sentir cuanto la quieres - I can feel how much you want it/love it

Órale - okay, or an exclamation expressing approval or encouragement.

ranita - little frog, but you knew that already ;)

the rest are cognates (or familiar words) which you can probably guess the meaning of, but feel free to message me if you don't know!

[absurdthirst]

A Marriage of Convenience {Regency!Pero Tovar x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 20.5k

Warnings: Dying parents, arranged marriages, mentions of dying in child birth, fear, anxiety, panic attacks, poor Pero has PTS, virgin reader, vaginal sex, oral sex (female receiving), conversations about birth control, mentions of spousal beatings, pregnancy, childbirth

Comments: When your dying father sends you to Spain to wed Don Tovar, you know nothing about the man besides that he is a widower with two small children who will never love you. Finding your place in his household will take a stiff spine and a loving heart, making peace with your marriage of convenience.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || Pero Tovar MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

“Father, you cannot send me away.” You shake your head, dread welling in your stomach and you press your hand to the silken material of your day dress, the stays of your corset the only thing keeping you upright at this moment. Not that your stays are as tight as most of the noble ladies that come and go on the marriage mart. You have no desire to be married, to be chattel to a noble man and birth his children. Even though your father has just informed you that the man you are to marry already has children. A widower who is not so choosy as to a new wife that he is willing to take on an old maid who is nearly set upon the shelf and discarded at every social function during the season. 

Pero Tovar is the name of the man you are to wed. Not only are you to be married off, but you will be shipped away from your home. Sent to Spain with no one that you know around you. Completely without allies and unable to easily go home if you are unhappy. Your father had met him in London and arranged your marriage before returning home to inform you. “Please.” You beg softly. “Do not make me marry a man I have never laid eyes on.” 

“You have no choice. I am dying, daughter. You heard the doctor. I have months left. I do not wish to leave you without stability. The time has come for you to marry. I cannot allow you to delay it anymore. Tovar is a wealthy man. He has a large estate and two children from his late wife. He doesn’t need some young maid to birth children for his heir. He is stern but he has very strong morals. You’ll be safe with him and that’s all that matters. Please do not argue with a dying man.” Your father begs and you choke, tears stinging in your eyes as you embrace him and he rubs your back, knowing these moments before you go to Spain will be the last you spend together.

The day has come for you to leave your father, and despite your best efforts, you weep. Over the course of the month, he had grown more frail and could not even accompany you to Spain to see you wed in person. Embracing him in his sickbed, you know word would come that he had passed, your cousin inheriting the home you had grown up in, and all the wealth your father had accumulated. Your dowry is carefully packed into a large trunk, generous enough that if it had been known, several in London would have made you their wife. Instead, you will be Lady Tovar. “I love you.” You murmur, wishing you could stay until he had left this earth. “I love you father, I am sorry I was not the boy you wished to carry your legacy forward.”

Your father tuts, “don’t be silly, child. You are my life. After your mother died…you are everything to me. My world. I love you. If you could have everything, I’d give it to you.” He promises and cups your cheek, his hand shaking. 

Your eyes sting with tears and you grip his hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it. “I know.” You promise, reluctantly pulling back. 

“Go. Go live your life. Just promise me you’ll be happy.” He orders and you sniff, wiping your cheeks and you nod. It takes everything in you to leave his chambers but you do and you make your way down to the carriage to begin the start of a very long journey to Spain.

The trip to the ship takes nearly a week. A broken carriage wheel, a broken axle, and a thrown shoe from one of the horses. It seems as if the entire trip is cursed. You occupy yourself by writing letters and reading a few of the books you had packed into your reticule. Wondering if your father has passed already and praying that he has not. When you finally reach the ship, you sigh as you stare at the sails. Rather than just a short journey across the channel, it will be another week, sailing up the coast of Spain before you disembark. Your betrothed’s men should meet you there to carry you to his summer estate in the country.

When you step foot on land, you are relieved and exhausted, anxious and ready to be in your new home. Your husband to be doesn’t come to greet you, not that you expected that anyway but you are greeted by his secretary. “Señorita, I am Carlos. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Come this way, the carriage awaits us.” He says, gesturing to the horses behind him as the staff begins to gather your things to secure them for the final leg of your journey.

The carriage seems to be sturdy and soon you are pulling away. “Tell me about your lord.” You beg, having heard very little from your father beyond the rudimentary information. You want to know more about the man you are supposed to wed. “What is he like?” How a man treats his staff says a lot about him. That is what your father always told you.

Carlos looks at you, appraising you for a bit until he answers. “He is stern. Unforgiving but fair. He knows wrong from right and is only violent when the need occurs. He loved Maria, his first wife, but after she died, he has become a recluse. His children are cared for by the staff and he rarely interacts with them. If you want my honesty, señorita. The house needs life and love once again. It’s cold and lacking happiness.”

You bite your lip, repressing a small shiver. He sounds…..austere. Unyielding. You feel for the children who seem to have lost both their mother and father at the same time. “How old are the children?” You ask politely, aware that if he was not giving love and attention to his children, it would be your job. You remember how terribly you had missed your own mother, though your father had been your rock through grieving.

“They are five and seven. They do not remember their mother. Both too young. Luis - the youngest - was the child born when Maria lost her life. She doesn’t remember her mother. Alejandra, she - she doesn’t remember her either. They are - needing love and attention as all children do and their father - he is a busy man. That’s why he wanted a wife who was capable of nurturing his children when he is unable to.” Carlos explains and you glance out of the carriage as the Spanish port city turns to countryside.

“I see.” You wonder if the children are too painful a reminder of his late wife. If that was the reason he could not be around them. “And his holdings?” You ask. “He is a lord, is he busy with his lands?” 

Carlos nods and sighs. “My lord works long hours to make sure that the estates and the lands that are used by his people are properly maintained.” He tells you, making you feel a bit better about the situation. 

“Then I will make sure that he has a comfortable home and well behaved children to come home to.” You promise. 

Carlos nods, appreciating your compliance and he watches you as you look back out of the window. You are beautiful, have an air of maturity the other girls, the local ones, had lacked. His lord has been searching for a wife for a while, but no one has fit his criteria. He doesn’t want a simpering girl who wants romance, he needs a partner who can assist him with his home and his children. Carlos knows that Pero’s heart is cold, iced over after the death of Maria and he doesn’t know if anyone can melt it.

The good thing about you is that you know that love and romance are not expected, nor required in most marriages. You aren’t a starry eyed little girl who will wish that her husband falls desperately in love with her. From everything you are hearing, that would be quite impossible. You will settle for mutual respect. The rest of the journey is spent quietly thinking, making plans for your new home that could be tossed out the window the moment you arrive. You do not even know if your future husband will be there to greet you.

When you pull up outside of the summer home of Don Pero Tovar, it’s beautiful and instantly takes your breath away. It’s picturesque and grand but when you have a closer look, you can see the cracks, the work that needs to be done. The shutters are crooked and need new paint. The flowers are gone and the paint is peeling everywhere. “Oh. I- it’s beautiful but-” You start and Carlos finishes your statement, “it needs work. After Señora Maria died, Don Tovar just let the place go, too preoccupied to maintain it.”

You nod, understanding that he might not have had the heart to continue to look after the details that make his estate a home for his family. “Then I will hire workers to restore his home to its former glory.” You decide with a smile, eager to get to work and contribute.

Carlos hums as the carriage comes to a stop, “if he allows it. He - it’s - it’s almost like he is stuck in the past, never moving forward.” His eyes widen and he shakes his head, “please señorita, don’t - he mustn’t know I said that.” He murmurs and you nod, “it’s our secret.” The secretary exhales and reaches out to open the door to the carriage, stepping out and holding out his hand to assist you down.

There is no staff lined up to greet you. No betrothed waiting at the door to introduce you to his household. The pots next to the large double doors of the house are empty, filled with dirt and sticks. Providing an unwelcoming air and you try to think of it as some kind of omen. “Well, it is late.” You excuse, biting your lip as you look around.

Carlos looks guilty as he opens the door to guide you inside to find the housekeeper, Señora Garcia. “Come, let’s take you to your quarters and we shall start fresh in the morning, you have had a long journey and I’m sure you’d rather meet everyone after resting.” Carlos says and Señora Garcia nods, “also, your lady’s maid, Carmen, will be waiting in your room to help you prepare for tonight. We will bring dinner to your room.”

You tilt your head. “Prepare for tonight?” You ask, confused by what he means. “What is happening tonight?” Surely he does not mean that Lord or Don Tovar meant to wed you tonight after you’ve only just arrived? You have not even met the man, you had hoped to have a conversation before he becomes your husband. 

“The wedding.” Carlos says like you should’ve known. “Did no one inform you that Don Tovar wanted to be married as soon as you arrived?” You shake your head and Carlos sighs. “You are to be married tonight. Carmen will help you dress and we will bring your trunks up to your quarters. The wedding will be at eight. We will bring food to your room beforehand and a bath. You’ll be the lady of the house tonight.”

Closing your eyes, you try to suppress the tremble that races through you. Stiffening your spine and taking a breath before you open your eyes and nod. “I will be ready when Don Tovar says.” You agree, making Carlos nod in approval. “I would also like a cup of tea to be brought up, right away.” 

Carlos nods, “sí, señorita. I’ll make sure you get your tea.” He assures you and you sigh, following Señora Garcia up the stairs to your quarters. The house is dark and damp and there seems to be no sign of life anywhere. You immediately feel alone and cold, regretting leaving your home, your dying father for this pitiful estate.

****

By the time your tea arrives, it’s accompanied by your meal. Cold and unappetizing, you wonder why the cook would send you a plate such as this. Investigating your room, you find that it has not been properly aired out, dust still sitting on the window sills and the candle holders not refreshed with new candles. It seems as if you are to be un-welcomed or the staff who works here is completely unskilled in how to run a house. 

“Señorita, bienvenidos.” Carmen says as she walks in, “I am sorry I am late. I am your lady’s maid and I am here to assist you with getting you ready for your wedding to Don Tovar. Was your dinner acceptable, señorita?” She asks and notices your frown, “what is wrong?” She prompts, wanting to be there for the soon to be lady of the house.

“The meal was cold,” You explain, understanding that she is not to blame for that. “As was my tea.” You tilt your head and look at the lovely young woman. “Have you worked for the household for long?” You ask. “Is this how meals are normally delivered?” If it is some kind of custom, you would try to be more understanding, but you don’t think that it is. 

Carmen shakes her head, “absolutely not. I- you shouldn’t have had a cold meal and cold tea. Please, señorita, let me get you a new, hot -” 

You interrupt her, “no. It’s not - I’ve eaten it now and I do not have time to waste. I need to bathe and get ready for my future husband.” You inform her and she nods, “I will go fetch the hot water and we will get you ready.” She promises and rushes off.

You are grateful that your trunks have been delivered, your dress you had made clean, if slightly wrinkled from being packed. Airing it out, you had hoped you would wear this while marrying a man that you had met before, but it seems unlikely to happen now. You had not even heard any movement in the large house. 

Carmen works diligently to clean you up, washing your back and making sure the dirt from the journey has been washed off prior to your wedding. Once you’re dry, she works on styling your hair and soon enough, it’s time for her to help you into your dress. “What’s he like?” You ask her as she buttons your dress and Carmen bites her lip. “He’s…direct but fair.”

“That seems to be what everyone says about him.” You hum. “Is he a handsome man?” Carmen glances at you nervously. “He- some think him handsome. But-“ she glances around your empty bedroom and lowers her voice. “He has a - a scar. Over his left eye.”

You inhale sharply, wondering how a man like Tovar got a scar over his eye. You’re worried now, scared that he is going to be a rough man. “He’s a good Don, fair and harsh but I think you will be good to have in this house. We need light, we need love. It’s been missing for far too long.”

It doesn’t take much longer for Carmen to declare that you look perfect. Your nerves flutter in your stomach and you press your hand to it in a meager effort to calm them. “Then perhaps you can show me a little of the estate while we walk to the chapel?” You assume that there is a chapel on the grounds that you will be married in. Giving your maid a weak smile, you try to hide the fear. 

Carmen nods, “of course, señorita. Come, let us go now. Your intended will be waiting.” She says and you exhale shakily, trying to gather yourself to get married to a man you’ve never met before.

The estate is beautiful, the ground neglected like the house, although you can tell someone had once cared for them a great deal. You wonder if that was your soon to be husband's late wife. It doesn’t take long for you to see the stone chapel, overgrown and yet the soft candlelight coming from the windows gives it an enchanting glow. You take a deep breath and glance at the maid for some reassurances. 

Carmen squeezes your arm and winks at you, “everything will be fine.” She promises but you both know she has no way to assure that. You stand in the entrance of the chapel when the violin starts to play and you swallow harshly when Carmen gestures it’s time for you to go. You exhale shakily and step foot into the main hall of the chapel. 

**** 

When you step into the chapel, Pero keeps his back turned. Your father had shown him your miniature so he knows you are a beautiful woman. Not that it makes a difference. He has far exceeded the socially acceptable grieving period for Maria and now he’s expected to get a wife. He needs a mother for his children and a woman to maintain his estate. The music plays as you walk down the aisle and when you approach him, he turns around and inhales sharply when he sees your face. You’re gorgeous. A woman most men would kill to wed but he doesn’t care about looks, he cares about you filling the position that has remained empty in his home. He wonders if you like the look of him.

Your steps forward stumble briefly, but you recover. Catching your breath and smiling softly, you find him to be most handsome in a visceral, viral way. Rough and not exactly tamed, although many would say that you were possessed to think that way. HIs eyes are dark and watching you, making your skin heat and you wonder if your future husband approves of you. Stepping closer to him, you stop directly in front of him and take another breath. “Don Tovar.” You murmur, curtsying prettily. 

You curtsy so perfectly, it’s almost enough to make him smile but he doesn’t. He hasn’t since Maria died. His life is now black and white, his love taking all of the color in the world with her when she died during childbirth. “Señorita.” He greets you and takes your hands, turning towards the priest who was called to marry you. Pero’s secretary and Carmen are to bear witness to the marriage and Pero is glad there’s no audience to see him remarry a woman he doesn’t even know.

The priest recites the vows in Spanish and you follow along closely. Listening as he proclaims that marriage is a sacred duty to your husband and you can barely look at your intended. Sneaking a glance and trying not to fidget. “I do.” You murmur quietly when you are asked if you take the Don as your husband. Your eyes meet his and you bite your lip, wondering if he is unhappy. He is frowning, he must be unhappy with his decision to marry you. 

Pero remembers his wedding day to Maria. How excited he was. Young and eager before the days of war to marry the woman he loved. He was ready to have a future with her and it was ripped away from him on one fateful winter day. Tovar recites his vows and when the priest declares you husband and wife, he leans in to kiss your cheek. “Welcome, mi esposa.” He whispers once you are married.

A kiss on the cheek was not what you expected, turning to find his lips when he pulls away leaves you flustered. “Gracias, husband.” You murmur quietly. His secretary and your maid clap quietly and you turn back to them with a smile, thanking them for witnessing your vows.

Pero takes your hand to guide you out of the chapel and to the carriage awaiting to take you back to the main home. Pero doesn’t say a word as you are carted back and when you arrive, the housekeeper takes your hand to assist you inside. “There’s no need to arrange our bed chamber. My bride will be spending the night in her own room.” Tovar reveals with a grunt.

“Yes, Don Tovar.” Carmen nods and you are left feeling rejected even if you had been nervous about the wedding night. It is silly to think of, but you hope it’s because he wishes to get to know you before you become intimate. 

“Then I wish you a good night, husband.” You nod politely to him and wait for him to speak.

Pero turns to look at you, reaching for your hand and he bends down to kiss the back of it but it’s cold and emotionless. “Buenas noches, señora Tovar. I will see you tomorrow so we can discuss your duties. Carmen, escort her to her room. Garcia, vamos. We have much to discuss.” Tovar says to his secretary who nods and steps beside him as he strides over without a glance back towards you.

“I see what you mean.” You murmur to your lady’s maid as she starts to guide you back up the stairs. “He is devoid of much emotion, although at least he is polite.” It is better than some men that you had met. “Is there a library in the house?” You ask curiously. “I fear that I had brought many of my own books when packing my trunks.” 

“There is a library, señora. It- it needs organizing. It has been neglected for many years but the children do study there during the day. It needs a refresh. Perhaps you may ask Don Tovar if he will provide you with the tools to refresh the room where the children learn.” She says and you hum, letting her escort you back to your chambers. 

**** 

“She is beautiful, no?” Carlos asks his employer who grunts as he sits down in the chair, working on removing his shoes and his wedding attire, wanting to be comfortable. “She is but you know I don’t care for beauty. I need a woman to run the house. To show those fools in society that I have fulfilled their requirements. I don’t need her company, I just need her presence. Her father was desperate to marry her off before his death and her dowry was enough to keep her without spending my coin. She’s suitable for the role and I’m hoping the children will attach to her.” Pero says and Carlos nods, “we shall see.”

You wake up shrieking as a pitcher of cold water is tossed on your face while you lay in your bed. Bolting upright, you flail your arms, hearing giggling as you try to blink and see what or who is attacking you. Finding two children grinning at you in defiance as the oldest holds the empty pitcher in his hands. It is still dark outside, at least you think it is, for the curtains are still drawn over the large windows. Pero’s children. Your husband’s children have woken you up by throwing water on your face. You leap from the bed right as you hear the pounding of footsteps and the door to your room bursts open. 

“Alejandra! Luis! Mierda!” Pero growls as he storms into the room to find his children standing there with their hands behind their backs. “What is wrong with you?” He growls, turning to face you when he sees you are soaking wet, his eyes dipping down to the white gown you’re wearing, now see through and he swallows harshly at the sight of your nipples. Carmen rushes in and he turns towards her. “Gather water for a bath to warm her up and get her a robe.” Pero demands and turns back to his children. “I was walking past when I heard the commotion. You cannot do that. Why would you do that?” Pero hisses at his children who stare at him defiantly. 

“We thought it would be funny.” Alejandra answers and Pero inhales deeply. 

“That is not acceptable. You will miss breakfast and today, you’ll be writing lines - saying you will not abuse your new mother.” He says lowly and Luis shakes his head, “she isn’t our mama. We don’t want her. We want our real mama.” Luis stomps his foot and Pero pinches the bridge of his nose. 

“Go to your rooms before I get the belt.” He threatens, knowing he wouldn’t actually hit them but every day they test him and push him closer to physical punishment. 

“Papa-” Alejandra chokes and Pero hisses, “do not test me girl. Now get out of my sight.” He hisses and the children rush out of your room.

“I am sorry.” You murmur quietly, covering your arms over your chest and shivering in the cold. It is chilly in the room since there is not a fire laid in the grate and you wish that you did not feel so exposed with his eyes on you. “I- I do not know what happened.” you shake your head. “I was sleeping and then - I just - they do not wish for a new mother?” You had expected that the children were accepting of your new husband marrying again, but it is apparent they do not want you here. That will make things more difficult for you if you expect to forge any kind of bond with them. 

“They are loyal to their mother.” He answers curtly, wanting to add that he is too but he feels that would be too insensitive. “They will come around. They have been troublesome and I am hoping a female presence will help them adjust.” He says and Carmen rushes over with your robe to help you cover up.

“Thank you.” You wrap the robe around you and find that your husband does not seem to care for you being here any more than his children and you swallow harshly, feeling incredibly alone. “I see.” You nod and decide that you might as well broach the subject since he is here. “Then I have permission to discipline the children?” You ask him. “If they are to respect me, then they need to see me as an authority figure as well as a motherly one.” 

“Yes, but I do not physically punish them. You are welcome to discipline them as you see fit. I have struggled to control them. They do not seem to want to be around me and I - I must admit I am a little hopeless about how to handle them.” He confesses, “if you can control them, you’ll have my admiration.”

You nod, thankful that he will allow you to curtail his children’s rambunctiousness. “I also wish to reorganize the library and freshen up the house to make things more homey.” You add. You do not tell him that his home is desperately in need of repair, but that would be something that you would be able to tackle with a good scrubbing and a good airing out. “Would that be acceptable to you?” 

Pero nods, unable to argue with you when you are doing exactly what he wants to be done. He needs his home to be returned to its former glory and his children to be nurtured and loved in ways he has failed. “Very well, señora. I will let you prepare for the day. Breakfast will be brought to you and you are permitted to explore the house as you see fit. It is your home now.”

“Thank you.” You murmur quietly, wondering if you would ever have a meal with the man you call your husband. “However I will order dinner to be served in the dining room this evening.” It will be the first time you will have imposed your will and you wonder if he will dismiss your wishes. “Perhaps the children can join us?”

Tovar nods, “very well.” He doubts he will eat dinner with you. That implies that you are having some kind of relationship and that isn’t what this is. You’re here to fill a position like if he were to hire a new housekeeper. Pero stares at you for a moment before he steps back and makes his way down the hall to his office.

You blow out a breath, happy and yet slightly discontent with his answers and you feel like he has no intention of trying to get closer to you. It’s like he does not actually want you here, but needs you. “Well, good morning to you as well.” You huff sarcastically under your breath.

Pero continues on with his day, attending to the finances due at the end of the month for the tenant rents and salaries for the staff, signing off on the accounts for the food and necessities. It’s a laborious job but Carlos can only do so much. Your presence here will alleviate the household requirements from him but the estate needs maintenance. The day gets away from him and he is soon preparing for lunch.

You sigh, exhausted and wipe your brow as you collapse into a dusty couch and look around the room. The library will be days in the making to turn into a lovely place to read and teach the children. Who have been watching you warily and not paying attention to their tasks. They are seated at a table, their books open, but neither one of them has completed an assignment. “How do you like the gardens?” You ask, looking over at them. “Is it lovely to have picnics there for lunch?”

Alejandra glances at her brother before she answers you, “we don’t have picnics in the garden. Papa doesn’t really like for us to go outside.” She tells you and Luis nods his agreement, making you frown. “He says it’s dangerous to go outside in the gardens.”

You purse your lips, not remembering any kind of warning about staying out of the gardens. “Perhaps your papa means that it would be dangerous for you to go out there by yourselves?” you offer, standing up and wiping your hands on your apron that you had covered your day dress with. “Why don’t we see about having the cook make up some picnic food and we can take lunch out there? Explore and take in the fresh air.” It was obvious the children were bored and isolated, running around in the gardens would be good for you and them. Perhaps it would even help them like you.

Alejandra is cautious as she watches you, placing her pencil down so she can look at you properly. Luis tugs on her sleeve, shaking his head, and she pushes him off. “The garden, Luis.” She says pointedly and the little boy giggles, making you tilt your head. “What’s so funny?” You ask and Luis shakes his head. “Nothing.” Alejandra answers, “a picnic would be lovely.”

You frown but nod. “Alright. Put your books away and we will venture into the kitchen.” You smile. “Perhaps the cook has made cookies for us to have.” You shouldn’t bribe the children with sweets but you want to break through their prickly exteriors. They are still young and it has been a long time since their mother has been lost to them. “How does that sound?”

Luis nods, cautious but easily swayed by cookies. Alejandra is more reserved, offering you a look as she closes her book and you smile at her, trying to disarm her cautious nature. The children soon have their books stored away and they rush towards the kitchen, calling out for the cook who has become a mother figure for them. Señora Lola. “¡Ay niños!” She exclaims as they practically slide into the kitchen.

You can’t help but smile as the children greet the cook with obvious affection and your complaints about your first dinner being cold are forgotten for the moment. They hug the cook excitedly and both begin talking at once, turning and pointing to you. When the older woman looks up at you, you nod your head politely. “The children and I would like to have a picnic luncheon in the gardens.” You explain in Spanish. “Would we be able to put together a suitable fare for this?”

Lola nods, “of course, señora. I can prepare a basket for you and the children.” She assures you, “would you like a cup of tea while I prepare lunch?” She asks and you nod, moving to sit down at the kitchen table while the children tell Lola about their lessons. You can sense that she’s like a mother figure to the young ones and you’re glad they have had someone since their mother passed. Lola works fast to get you a cup of tea and the children a glass of milk while they wait.

“Thank you.” You watch as she moves about the kitchen, finding her to be quick and decisive as she gathers her ingredients. This is not a woman who is sloppy or resentful it seems. It makes you wonder why the food was so horrible the day before. When the kids are busy drinking their milk, you smile. “Tell me about yourself, Señora Lola. It is obvious you have been with the Don’s household for many years.”

Lola smiles, “my mother was the cook before she retired. My father was the Tovar’s butler and they fell in love and had me. Mi mamá taught me everything I know and we have been in the Tovar household for three generations. My son is a gardener. My husband is the groundskeeper. Maria - bless her soul - was the heart of the home. She lit up every room she was in.” Lola sighs and glances at the children.

“I understand that I am new.” You venture softly. “And I cannot replace Señora Tovar, but I would like to bring some comfort and happiness to her family.” You know that you can’t just force these people to accept you. Not when they had lived for so long with the ghost of the woman who had left them broken. You bite your lip. “Will you help me do that, Señora Lola?” 

Lola nods, “if you can bring hope and light back to this home, you will forever have my admiration and gratefulness, señora. You are Señora Tovar now.” Lola tells you and you bite your lip as she prepares the lunch.

Once the lunch is packed away in a basket along with a large bottle of lemonade, you have Carmen bring you a quilt to spread on the grass to sit on. Guiding the children out of the large, glass doors into the garden, you smile at the bright sun and fresh air. The weather is beautiful and you can see yourself bringing the children out here often. “Where would you like to sit?” You ask, looking around the neat but barren gardens. It’s obvious Lola’s husband keeps them up but there has not been any new flowers or plants added for some time. 

The children point to a spot near the pond and you allow them to guide you towards it. Carmen spreads out the blanket and you settle down with the children. Pero is standing up to stretch when he sees you and the children on the lawn. He tilts his head and wonders how you managed to get them to sit down for more than five minutes. Maybe he did make the right decision.

Eating outside seems to have been a magical treat for the kids. They ate politely and minded their manners after the promise of running around after they finished was made. You can tell they enjoyed it and by the time you had to pack up to go back to the house to finish their lessons they were sleepy. Making you smile at the way they leaned against one another.

**** 

“Señora, is this the color you prefer for the drapes?” Carmen asks you as you appraise the different materials and pattern samples. It’s been a month since you’ve been in Pero’s home and you have been slowly working on bringing the home back to its former glory. The children have grown closer to you, wanting their meals in your company, yet still no sign of your husband.

Pero walks down the hall, the portraits of his ancestors lining the walls and he notices the change of the decor. Everything seems dusted and shiny, and the rugs are pristine. It’s fresher and brighter. He knows it’s your doing and that makes him smile, assured he made the right decision to marry you.

“I think it will look lovely in the breakfast dining room, don’t you?” You ask, finding Carmen to be a wealth of information and a good judge of character and design. As the two of you had grown closer the more time you spent going through the house room by room. Even the kids were helping when it was time to scrub walls and beat rugs out in the garden. You had turned it into a game where you covered their eyes and spun them around before they whacked the rugs with a broom. They had giggled and fallen down, but it was worth the extra time it had taken to freshen the rugs. “Perhaps, even if he does not dine with me, Don Tovar might enjoy reading his paper and drinking his tea in a bright and cheerful room.”

“Papa! Papa!” Alejandra rushes up to her father who is shocked at her cheerful greeting. 

“Sí, mi tresoro.” He answers and she grins, “we are going into town today.” She declares and Pero frowns, not liking the idea. 

“Whose idea is this?” He asks lowly and Alejandra says your name. Pero sighs and tells his daughter to lead him to you. She takes his hand and guides him to the kitchen where you are sitting with Lola. “Hola.” He greets his cook who smiles at him and says “hola señor.” His dark eyes turn to you, “Alejandra tells me you are taking the children into town today?”

“I am.” You nod as you set down the book you are making notes in. Carmen hustles to put the fabrics away and you send your husband a small smile. “The children need new shoes and I have several merchants that I wish to visit.” You glance at Alejandra with a proud look. “The children have assured me that they will be well behaved, and they are excited to spend their own pin money.”

Pero frowns, “I do not like them going into town. I do not want you going into town. It is dangerous.” He says, remembering when Maria went into town while with child and was knocked over. She went into labor early with Luis and that’s the night that she died. His hands shake a little and he shakes his head, “you are not going. I forbid it.”

Your brow arches and you look towards Carmen and Lola. Both women quickly bow and disappear. “Alejandra,” you urge his daughter. “Go and find your brother.” You urge her as you stand up and brush your dress down. If you are going to disagree with your husband, you are not going to do it in front of the staff or his children.

Pero meets your defiant gaze and he clears his throat, “I will not allow you to go into town. It’s dangerous. If you need something, you can tell the staff and they will go and get it.” He compromises and you glance around to make sure no one is around.

“Don Tovar, I appreciate your concern for my well-being but I am not a child and I will not be held hostage on your estate.” You declare. “I will take a footman and a driver with me, and exercise all caution. But I am going to town. Now….is there anything you wish for me to get while we are there?”

Pero clenches his jaw, remembering that moment Maria was carried into the house, her screams still echo through the halls of his mind. “No. I forbid it. You won’t be leaving this estate. That’s an order.” He growls, reaching for your wrist to grip it, his hand shaking as he remembers the night Maria died.

You wince when he grabs your wrist, squeezing it hard enough that your breath catches in pain. You wrench your wrist away from him, yanking your arm down and stepping back, your eyes wide with both fear and anger. "I am your wife. Not your servant." You manage to keep the fear from making your voice tremble.

“You can’t go. I - I can’t - Maria - she- please. You cannot go.” He shakes his head, his chest starting to heave and he hates how anxious he’s become at the thought of losing more from his life. He has barely spent a moment with you since the wedding but the idea of his children losing another woman from their lives makes his chest tighten.

Fear turns to worry, making you step forward and reaching for his arm. “Pero?” You do not use his Christian name often, but you use it now. “What is wrong? Take a breath.” You urge him, frowning at the way that your husband has turned from cold and demanding to panicked. “Talk to me.”

He pants, unable to calm himself down, and he clings to you, pulling you close and he can’t control his thumping heart, remembering the night he lost Maria, the night he lost the light of his life. He closes his eyes, trying to control himself but he’s failing.

You nearly stumble, but you don’t resist him. Holding onto your husband’s waist while he trembles. He’s obviously horrified by the idea and you can’t understand why but you don’t want to make him do this. “Alright, alright, I will not go into town.” You give in, hating that you are but perhaps you can talk to him and come to agreement later on when he has calmed down.

Pero inhales deeply, remembering what his doctor told him to do, and he tries to calm himself down, grounding himself with your touch. He takes several moments before he opens his eyes, his gaze meeting yours. “I- I’m sorry, esposa.” He murmurs, his hands still gripping you.

"It is alright." You murmur soothingly, wanting nothing more than to make him feel comfortable around you. You are supposed to be here to help him, and it seems like he needs help with this. "I am here, I am right here." You assure him with a smile.

When you smile at him, he jerks back and lowers his hands, the shield back up as he gathers himself and clears his throat. “I, uh, I am going to go - go back to my office. I trust you will send Carmen in your place to town.” Pero says and quickly turns to rush back to his office, away from you and the children once more.

You stare after your husband, completely flabbergasted and frustrated. The man dictates that you must stay at the estate, not go to town and has an apoplexy before fleeing back to his study without giving you a reason why you must be a hostage. Blowing out a frustrated sigh, you turn and curse your husband's stubbornness. You need to know what happened to Maria and why town is forbidden.

Alejandra and Luis shake their heads when you tell them you are no longer heading into town. “Please. Tell Papa we must go!” Alejandra whines, clinging to your skirts. 

“I’m sorry, amor. He won’t allow us. We must listen to him.” You say and she shakes her head and looks up at you to stomp her foot. 

“I hate him!” She cries and runs off, followed by Luis. You sigh and sit down just as Carmen comes over with a tea tray. 

“Señora, I do not wish to speak out of turn.” She says and you shake your head, “when do we hide our feelings and thoughts, mi amiga.” You smile at her and she smiles back, glancing around when she takes a seat beside you. 

“Don Tovar has - has a lot of fears about you going into town because that was the night he lost Maria.”

You frown, unsure of why going into town would cause a woman to die in childbirth, but you take your tea and listen. “I do not understand.” You shake your head. “Maria died giving birth to Luis, I thought?” You frown, knowing you will need to soothe the children’s feelings later on, but you want them to be able to calm down before you try. If you know why your husband fears it so, you can explain better to disappointed young children who don’t understand why they cannot have fun. 

Carmen glances around again, “Maria was far along with Luis when she wanted to go into town to fetch more yarn for knitting. She - she was an independent woman and Don Tovar, he - he worshiped the ground she walked on. She loved him and he loved her. When she went into town, she was robbed for her jewels and coins and thrown to the ground and it sent her into early labor. The thugs were never apprehended and she was rushed home and the doctor was called. That was the night Luis was born and Maria died. They thought Luis was going to die too but he survived. Don Tovar was never the same.”

“Oh.” Your shoulders slump and you can understand why Pero is fearful of his wife going to town now. Even if he does not love you, the children have grown close to you and it would hurt them to lose you. “That is so sad.” You look down into your tea with a sigh and wish for a moment that this had been explained to you sooner. “I better understand why he is so hesitant, but he cannot think that the children will be kept here forever, does he?” 

“He has…attacks when he has concerns about the children’s safety. I think - I do not wish to speak out of place but I think that’s why he has pushed the children away.” Carmen says and you nod in understanding. “I think he wishes he could connect with them but it’s hard since all he sees is Maria. He loved her. She was his childhood sweetheart and they married young before he left to fight in the war.”

You sigh softly, knowing you would find it romantic if he didn’t push his children away. To close himself off from pain. “Then I will make him.” You decide with a firm press of your lips. “I will go talk to the children. Inform Lola that the children and I will be taking lunch in Don Tovar’s study.” You decide. “Since he refuses to take his meals in the dining room, we will come to him.” 

Carmen won’t argue with you, knowing it is futile, so she nods. “Very well, señora. I will tell Lola now and will let Carlos know.” 

You shake your head, “not Carlos. I want it to be a surprise.” You say and she nods, “sí, señora.” You smile and she stands, bowing her head before she exits the room, leaving you with the news to tell the children. 

**** 

Pero looks up from his papers when there is a knock on the door and he calls out “come in.” When you enter followed by the children, he’s shocked. “Señora?” He frowns, setting his pen down.

“Husband.” You send him a smile and guide the children over to the table that sits in front of the sofa and they sit down. Alejandra is still pouting, but her tears have dried and she is not so angry when she was told her papa feared for her safety. “Carmen will be bringing in our lunch soon.” You explain with a cheerful smile. “I thought that since you work so hard and are so busy, we would join you here to have lunch together.” 

Pero’s frown deepens, “lunch together? Are you not able to have lunch in the kitchen?” He asks and you raise your eyebrows at him. 

Pero bites his lip and you answer him, “the children would like to spend some time with their father seeing as we are no longer going into town.” You say and Alejandra stands up to walk over to Pero, reaching for his hand, “please papa. Let us have lunch together.” Her pout is Pero’s unraveling as he nods, standing up from his desk chair to walk towards the sofa.

Luis grins, unaware and still too young to understand his father’s hesitancy, but he begins to tell his father about the Spanish Armada that the governess is teaching the children about lately. “Sí, mijo. The English defeated us.” His dark eyes meet yours as he answers questions Luis excitedly asks him and he seems to relax a little. Lola and Carmen bring the meal in and the four of you begin to eat.

“I have decided to ask Carmen to direct any traveling merchants to our house when they are going through town.” You take a sip of your tea and look at your husband. “As well as inquire about children that are near Luis and Alejandra’s age that might wish to come play with them. Soon the house will be ready for visitors.”

Pero frowns, “why would we require merchants to come to my home?” He asks as he picks up his glass of wine. “And for the other children…I suppose it will be good for them to mingle with others.” He concedes that point, glancing at you and he’s taken back once again by your beauty, especially when the light hits your face.

“We require merchants to come to your home because the children need new shoes, their own are pinching their feet and the cobbler cannot make their shoes without measuring their feet.” You point out. “Also, I enjoy socializing and since I am not permitted to go to town, I will simply have town come to me.”

Pero sets his wine glass down, “I suppose that is for the best. I want the children to have everything they need, I want you to have everything you need. You - I am guessing one of the staff told you about Maria?” He asks, curious if anything has been said about his behavior.

You could lie to him, but you don’t. “I was told about the night Luis was born.” You admit softly, understanding how such a thing could haunt the man, especially since he was a soldier in the war. You wonder if the poor boy you have come to love even gets any acknowledgement on his birthing day, or if grief is too overwhelming. “You have my deepest sympathies.”

Pero swallows the lump that always forms in his throat when he thinks about Maria and that fateful night. In a way, he’s glad he didn’t have to discuss it with you, to relive that horrid night, but another part of him knows he needs to discuss it with you, to tell you why he brought you here and has yet to consummate the marriage. That time is not now though with the children here. “Gracias, mi esposa. I- I would like to have supper with you tonight…if you want.”

Your head tilts in surprise but you don’t voice it. “That would be lovely, Don Tovar.” You murmur softly, aware that he is asking for a dinner that is apart from the children. “I will ask that Lola makes your favorite dish.” You offer, smiling slightly. “Do you have any preference for dessert?”

Pero’s gaze dips down to your cleavage. You are a beautiful woman and he has not indulged in pleasure since Maria died apart from a few times where he had spent his coin and then felt incredibly guilty after when he felt like he was betraying his beloved wife. Tonight is about giving your marriage a chance, giving you a chance when he’s been so closed off from you since your wedding night.

You don’t miss the way that your husband's eyes dip down to your breasts and you wonder if he has finally decided to acknowledge that he has a wife. You aren’t ignorant of the relationship between man and wife and yet you have still retained your chastity well into your marriage. Pero mumbles something about a sweet and you nod. “I will make sure that is what you get, if you so desire.”

He nods in appreciation and Luis takes his attention by handing him a cookie from the tray. “Gracias, mi amor.” Pero smiles at his son. 

“Papa, will you come and ride with us tomorrow?” Alejandra asks, wanting him to join them for their riding lessons. 

“I- I am busy, mija. I-” 

Alejandra shakes her head, her lower lip trembling. “Papa. I want - please.” She begs and Pero looks at you, a little lost.

“Your Papa is a very busy man, sweetheart.” You remind her gently. “Although, I believe that he should be able to join you for at least one hour? Yes, Don Tovar?” You ask, glancing from Alejandra to your husband. It will allow the children to see their father and still not take too much time away from his busy work. Although you feel as if he spends much of his time working so he does not have to grieve. “How does that sound?” 

Alejandra nods, “please papa. Just an hour. Por favor.” She pleads and Pero nods, not wanting to see his daughter so pouty. 

“Sí, mi amor. An hour. Let’s go riding for an hour.” He compromises and she surges forward to hug his arm, “¡gracias, papa!”

You smile at your husband’s shocked face when his daughter smothers him in affection. Nodding when he looks over at you, asking if he is doing things right or perhaps seeking help. He’s doing something that will make his children very happy and it’s a good thing. “Now we need to finish eating.” You tell the children. “Papa needs to get back to work, so finish your lunch so we can leave him to it.” 

Pero nods, rubbing Alejandra’s back and he leans down to kiss her head. He can’t deny the way his heart twists at how much he’s missed out on with his little girl and his son. He knows he needs to be a better father to them. “Let’s finish eating.” He says and Alejandra nods, letting go of her father to settle down to eat. Lunch is finished in companionable silence and Pero is soon kissing his children on the head, promising them he will have dinner with them tomorrow.

“Go start your studies again.” You tell the children, smiling when they rush off and you turn towards your husband, slightly flustered to be alone with him for the first time. “I will clean up and get this mess out of your hair.” You promise. “Thank you for not turning them away. They talk about their papa every day and want to spend time with you.” 

Pero smiles, watching the children rush off after kissing his cheek then yours, and Pero watches them with his heart thumping. “Gracias, señora. You - you brought me back to my children and I- I never knew how to bridge the gap. I- I cannot repay you for that.”

“There is no need for repayment, Don Tovar.” You assure him, still calling him by his formal title since he has never permitted you to use his Christian name. “That is my job.” You know that he would rather be quit of your presence so you nod and quickly turn around to gather the meals up onto the trays to be carried back to the kitchen. 

Pero swallows harshly, “please…call me Pero.” He says and reaches for your hand. He squeezes it, and his heart twists as he thinks about you and how beautiful you are yet he feels like he’s betraying Maria.

“P-Pero.” you murmur, feeling shy now that he has stopped you from your task. You bite your lip as you stare into his dark eyes, wishing that you could tell him how handsome you find him. “Is there - something else you wished for, Pero?” You ask quietly. 

Pero stares at you for a moment before he withdraws his hand. This is progress but he knows he shouldn’t venture into his attraction to you. It will only lead to heartbreak, either his or the children’s. “No. That is all. I shall see you later for supper.” He says and clears his throat.

You are disappointed, knowing that he wanted something else but you don’t push him. He had shown that he had no wish to have a relationship with you. “Yes, Don Tovar.” You revert back to your formal politeness and you pick up one of the trays and you will send Carmen in to gather the other. “Good afternoon.”

Pero frowns, wishing to hear his Christian name from your lips and when you carry the tray out of the room, he leans back against the chair, sighing and rubbing his face. He wants this to work. He needs this to work. For the children’s sake. Dinner tonight will be his chance to redeem his terrible behavior.

The rest of the day is spent with the children. After asking Lola to make the Don’s favorite meal, you had finished their lessons and then took them down to the kitchen for both their dinner and their baths. Laughing when they pouted when getting into the water, and then pouting when they had to get out. Once they are clean and in their nightclothes, you chatter and joke with them as you take them back upstairs to put them to bed. Leaving you little time to get ready for dinner with your husband, but it is for the best. You had no time to think about why he wanted to have dinner with you now, so long after your marriage.

Pero adjusts his jacket - not the latest trends but well made, none the less- and he paces in the dining room, wondering if you aren’t coming as the minutes tick by. When you finally appear, you look beautiful and his heart flutters in his chest after laying dormant for so long. He strides forward, taking your hand in his and leans down to press his lips to the back of your hand. “Esposa, you look beautiful.”

“Forgive me for being late, Don Tovar.” You curtsy for him and hate how handsome he is in his evening jacket. “The children were begging for another story before bed and I could not say no.” Your own preparation for dinner had been rushed and you hope that he is not disappointed by your appearance.

Pero shakes his head, “don’t be silly, esposa. The children come first. I trust they are in bed?” He asks and you nod, “they are asleep and in bed.” You smile and Pero keeps your hand in his so he can guide you to your chair. He pulls it out and helps you sit before he makes his way over to his own seat.

Once you are seated, Pero sits across from you and Carmen immediately marches into the dining room with the first course. “Don,” you venture, smiling your thanks to Carmen as she sets down the soup. “I believe that we should hire more staff.” You tell him. “My maid also acts as the housekeeper and now she is serving our dinner. I believe that we need a butler and perhaps a full time housekeeper. That way we are not overworking our staff.”

“You are in charge of the household. If you wish to have another, I will have Carlos and Lola ask around in town.” 

You lift a brow in surprise, your soup spoon nearly to your mouth and you take your bite and swallow before you respond. “Thank you, I will have them ask immediately.” You smile at him again and Pero glances back down at his own soup as if he is shy. “The children are excited about riding with you tomorrow. I was surprised they had not learned already but they have come so far in their lessons.” If it is a rebuke, it is a small one. The children had been very far behind in their lessons and some had not started at all. You had been working diligently to get them on track to where they should be. “They are very bright children. You should be very proud of them.”

Pero’s stomach twists with guilt. He barely knows his children. He doesn’t know that they are behind in their studies when you mention they have much to learn. The guilt twists in his stomach again and he knows he can’t hide from them anymore. “I am.” He answers softly, offering you a rare smile. You are so kind, he doesn’t want to tarnish you with his sins.

Surprised by the smile, you offer one of your own and hope that he is starting to care. You continue to eat in silence, waiting for Pero to talk to you but the silent sounds of eating settles between you. It’s sad, really. This man doesn’t have more questions about his children and doesn’t seem interested in them. When you are done, you set your spoon down and quietly wait for the next course.

Carmen brings in the next course and Pero is struggling to find the words to make conversation. It’s been so long since he had dinner with someone and he’s a little out of practice with his etiquette. “Are you liking Spain or do you miss your home?” He asks you after rubbing his hands together.

“Truly?” You shrug one shoulder and look down at the plate in front of you. “I have not seen much of the country since the carriage ride to your estate.” You remind him, trapped here by your husband’s wishes. “But what I have seen is beautiful. Carlos is very hopeful we can restore the gardens and the greenhouse to their former glory.” You had learned that Pero had ordered that the garden not be planted, just maintained. As flowers would die off, they would not be replanted. At least until you had arrived. You suppose it was because Pero’s first wife had loved spending time in the gardens. The little pond of water had apparently been her favorite spot. 

Pero wants to bite out that the gardens are not to be touched but then he remembers why he brought you here to marry him. He needs someone to maintain his home. “Perhaps we can take a ride soon, I would like to show you my country.” He says softly and looks up after he cuts into his meat.

“I would like that.” He might not mean it. Might not ever do it, since he seems to blow so hot and cold, but you smile. “I have missed riding.” You haven’t gone for rides since the children would want to come with you and they were not accomplished enough to go so far and you do not know the area. “But there has been plenty to keep me busy. Have you any opinion on the changes, Don Tovar?” 

Tovar looks out of the window to the beautiful gardens, now full of flowers after your dedication to the garden, and he turns to look back at you. “The gardens looks gorgeous, mi esposa.” He says and turns back to his meal. “You are bringing the estate back to its former glory.”

“Thank you.” You feel proud that even if he is a man who does not interact with you much, that he sees your improvements to his home. “Was there anything that you wished to discuss with me?” You ask quietly. “I thought that might be why you asked me to have dinner with you?” 

Pero sighs, setting down his cutlery. “I wanted to discuss…if you were looking to have children of your own. We never got a chance to discuss it and I wanted to address the matter as it would mean us…consummating our marriage.” He says, trying to be as matter of fact as possible.

“I had hoped to one day have children.” You confess setting your own cutlery down and hate how handsome he is despite how aloof he acts. “I have put those dreams aside, now.” You look away, back down at your food and you aren’t hungry anymore. “It does not seem that you are interested in….consummating our marriage.”

Picking up his glass of wine, Pero knows he has failed in your marriage already. He’s been selfish and he isn’t sure how he can fix it. The thought of betraying Maria in this final way has his stomach twisting. “Are you- are you interested in consummating the marriage?” He asks softly.

You need to be honest with him. So you are. “I am not interested in being used.” You admit bluntly. “I have no experience with intimate relations, but I do know what to expect.” You assure him. “However, I would not accept being used to fulfill your needs and then ignored until the next time you have use of my body.” You could very well ruin your chances of any kind of relationship with Pero, but he asked. “You are a very handsome man, and I have found myself thinking about you often, but if you have every intention of satisfying your lust and then pretending I don’t exist until the next time you want to touch me, I would rather you just leave me untouched.

Pero nods, appreciating your candor and the way you hold yourself. It makes you more attractive to him. He sips his wine as he contemplates his answer. “I do not wish for you to feel used and I am not capable at this time of more than physical release. If you wish to experience pleasure, I will ensure you are satisfied with our marital bed. However, if you yearn for an emotional connection, then I would suggest we permanently place any relations on hold.”

You smile, albeit sadly. “Don Tovar, I have never expected love in an arrangement. I am not a silly, romantic girl. However, I will require you to respect me if we were to share our marital bed. Take your meals with me and perhaps some evenings beyond our pursuit of pleasure. I don’t require your heart, I know your first marriage was one of love and your affections still lay with your late wife.”

Pero is taken back by your refute to his offer but he appreciates your directness. “Very well. I assure you that I will try my best to ensure you are satisfied physically. Shall we - would tonight be appropriate or do you wish to wait until it happens naturally?”

You hum, amused by the idea of physical relations happening naturally with a man who has not spent more than two hours in your presence since you have been married to him. Perhaps it is foolish, but you want to know what it is like to be touched. “Tonight is fine.” You assure him and pick up your cutlery again. “Do you have any preference for physical intimacy? I do not have any reference, so I will need to be told if there is something I should not do. Or should do.”

Pero nods, “very well. Let us finish our meal and I will allow you as much time as you require to get ready for our consummation.” He assures you and continues to cut into his meal so he can finish eating. Dessert is soon served and you eat in companionable silence before the dishes are cleared away. “Take your time.” He tells you as he stands and waits for you to gather yourself from the dining room table.

You nod. “Give me twenty minutes.” You ask as he takes your hand to walk you to the stairs. “Then I will be ready.” You noticed that he did not answer you about his preferences but figure that he would just show you tonight. After all, it is a husband's job to teach his wife about how he prefers love making.

Pero watches you walk up the stairs and he exhales shakily, realizing that this will be a big step towards cementing your marriage as husband and wife tonight. He clears his throat and makes his way to his chambers to clean himself up. It’s been a while since he’s been intimate but he remembers that women do not like being with men who smell like a long day. He washes and dresses in his linen nightshirt, deciding to keep things simple for the act. Inhaling deeply, he makes his way down the hall to your chambers.

Tovar knocks on the door, heart thumping in his chest, and when you call out for him to come in, he slowly opens the door. “Hola, esposa.” He murmurs after he shuts it behind him. He takes in your figure, glowing in the firelight and his cock twitches under his shirt.

“Hello, husband.” You bite your lip and wonder how he will approach you and this. “What- what do you want me to do?” You ask, watching him carefully, more nervous than you had expected to be. You don’t think he will hurt you, but you had been told the first time is painful and that you would learn to enjoy it. “Do you wish me to get on the bed?”

Pero shakes his head, walking over to you to take your hands in his and he exhales shakily, suddenly nervous. It’s been so long since he’s been with a woman, especially his wife. His heart clenches when he briefly thinks of Maria but he pushes that aside. “Esposa, eres hermosa.” He murmurs, letting go of your hand so he can reach up to caress your cheek. You are beautiful and any man would be lucky to have you as their wife. You deserve better than him, than some half shell of the man he used to be. He slides his hand down to caress your neck and your collarbone, his fingers playing with the edge of your gown. “Can I take this off?” He asks, his dark eyes meeting yours, burning like embers in the flames of the fire.

Mouth dry from that simple touch, you nod. Watching him as his eyes seem to shine like a dark flame and you can help but to think that he is most handsome. His hands skim down over your waist and he tangles the material of your nightgown in his fingers and slowly starts to drag it up. Exposing you to the warmth of the fire and it makes you even hotter as your skin starts to burn from the simplest touch. Tonight you will just let him touch you, hopefully show you what he likes. Maybe you can help him by letting him find pleasure with you.

Pero tosses your gown to the floor and steps back, his dark eyes running down the length of your body. His eyes focus on your tits, swallowing harshly as his gaze lowers to the thatch of curls at the apex of your thighs. “Hermosa.” He murmurs, stepping closer to you, and he reaches out to caress your waist, pulling you up against his body. “Tell me if you want to stop. Or you don’t like anything.”

You nod, wanting to touch him but you don’t ask. Knowing you would hate feeling rejected if he pulled away. Your breathing stutters as his fingers slide up and brush the underside of your breast, nipple hardening and you bite your lip so you don’t moan wantonly. “Pero….” Your whisper is soft, pleading and you wonder why you are so eager to have this man touch you.

His hand squeezes your breast until he notices that you want to touch him so he reaches for your hand, bringing it to his chest. “You can touch me, esposa.” He assures you, inhaling the scent of your bath oil as he leans in to run his nose along the length of your neck.

His own dressing gown is hanging open at the neck and your fingers slide inside to touch hot, tanned skin. Biting your lip and trying to concentrate as his fingers brush over your nipple and make you gasp. Looking down, you see the gown tenting over his cock and your cheeks burn, but you are curious to see what it looks like, reaching down and brushing the fabric close so you can see better.

Pero hisses when your innocent fingers brush his cock. He reaches down, guiding you to wrap your fingers around him. His skin is hot and velvety and you explore him with utter lack of knowledge but he enjoys it. He likes that you have no expectations of him. He can just feel. He murmurs your name and his hand lets go of yours, letting you explore him while his palms continue their own adventure, palming your ass in his grip.

It feels wicked and yet you know that it is perfectly natural to touch him. You need to learn how he feels since he is perhaps the only man you would ever sleep with. Unless you remarry and your husband is obviously a hale and hearty man. “It is so hard.” You murmur in wonder. “And yet so soft.” You gasp when you feel a wetness on your skin and look down to see a smear of liquid on your finger.

He refrains from chuckling at your virginal observations. “Take your time, esposa. We are in no rush. No rush at all. I want to make sure you feel good.” He assures you and he slides his hand down between your legs, finding you wet and wanting him. He loves that and he is going to make you cum. From his fingers, from his cock. He finds your clit and loves the gasp that escapes you as he starts to rub the bundle of nerves.

Your eyes flutter closed and you hand to cling to his shoulder before your knees buckle. “Oh…ohhhh my….” You whimper, your grip on his cock loosening. You don’t know what he’s doing to you but you need more of it. “Pero.”

Pero grabs your waist, keeping you upright and pressed against him while he works your clit. His lips brush your neck by accident and you shiver against him. He rubs your clit a little faster, wanting you to cum for him for the first time. “That’s it, esposa.”

He doesn’t seem to mind touching you, increasing how fast he is rubbing but he’s groaning against your ear and encouraging you. For what you don’t know, you just know that your stomach is fluttering and clenching right up until stars burst behind your eye and you gasp as your cunt clenches on its own and a wave of heat floods your core.

Pero keeps you upright, working you through it and groaning when you bury your face in his neck. He groans your name softly and slides his finger back to gently push it inside of you, wanting to stretch you out so you feel less pain when he finally fucks you.

“Ohhhhhh.” Your eyes wide, mouth hit against his skin as you moan. Surprised to feel his fingers inside you and your body jolts when he pushes them up and presses against something inside you, “oh Pero.” You whimper, closing your eyes and unable to help yourself, you kiss his neck.

He curls his fingers, knowing he needs to make this good for you. He pushes his fingers a little deeper, loving the way you kiss his neck and he knows he should stop you but the intimacy makes his heart twist, his stomach clench. It’s been so long since he enjoyed the touch of someone else. “Fuck.” He curses, his cock twitching.

“Is this- is this how it feels?” You pant softly, your hips rocking up to his hand. Chasing the feeling that he pulls out of you. “All the time?” You are surprised that there aren’t more babies in the world if sex feels like this.

“Sometimes.” Pero chuckles softly, adding another finger, “sometimes it feels good, sometimes it’s just a physical release to relax. Quiero - I want you to feel like this all the time we are intimate, mi esposa.” He murmurs, his hand squeezing your ass to encourage you to rock down onto his fingers.

You feel so good, rocking on your feet as you wantonly move in your husbands arms. Kissing along his neck every time you grind down onto his finger, you feel that sensation start to build inside of you again. “Pero.” You whimper, clutching his shoulders and clenching around his fingers. “Pero- I- again- it’s- it’s-“ you cut yourself off with a small cry, another wave of pleasure and heat flooding you and making you forget about everything but the bliss of his fingers.

The way you clamp down on his fingers has his cock leaking. To hear you so unabashedly enjoying yourself has him groaning and he works you through it. His fingers soaked and he knows you are ready to take him. “Mierda.” He hisses, pressing his cock against your hip as you come back down to earth. Soon enough, he’s withdrawing his fingers and he wipes his fingers on his nightgown. “Come on, esposa. Lay down. I want to fuck my wife.” He says with a slight smile, knowing it’s taken way too long to get to this point in your marriage.

You hum, nearly floating on a cloud as you walk over to your bed and pull the covers back. Climbing into the bed and knowing that you will come out of it properly wed is thrilling and you lay back amongst the pillows. Watching as he walks towards you. “Are you going to remove your shirt, husband?” You ask softly, wanting to see your husband as fully as he has seen you. There is no love between you, but there will be passion and you wish to know what he looks like. 

Pero bites his lip, wondering if he will be good enough. If you will like the scars on his body from his battles won in the war. He exhales shakily and nods, reaching for the hem of his shirt so he can lift it over his head, fully exposing his body to you as you lay in your bed.

He is strong, you can tell that from the corded muscles that spoke of your husband doing much more than just being an idle lord. Bunching and rippling as he stands still for you inspection, you don’t hesitate to let your eyes roam over him. Widening slightly when you get your first look at his cock without some fabric blocking your view. “You are…handsome.” You admit breathlessly. “It- you make my core throb.”

Your words surprise Pero and he smirks, slightly cocky that you are satisfied with his appearance. He shifts closer to the bed until he is kneeling on it, his fingers caressing your ankle bone and up your leg. “That’s good. That’s lust, esposa. Do you desire me? Do you want me inside or you?” He asks, kneeling between your thighs and he doesn’t touch you so you can make the final assessment before he consummates the marriage.

Even though you are innocent, you are aware of what should happen. Feeling bold by the lust that is in his own eyes, you spread your thighs to reveal the thatch of curls covering your core. “Please, Pero.” 

“Mierda.” Tovar mutters and caresses your thighs. When he looks into your eyes and sees your certainty, he nods and reaches down to grip his cock. Shuffling closer, he notches himself at your entrance and slowly, so slowly, pushes inside of you. “Fuck.” He pants, trying to control himself but you’re so wet and tight. He exhales shakily and pushes deeper, wanting to make sure you are as comfortable as possible despite him taking your innocence.

You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling a pinch but it is not the painful experience that you had been led to believe that it was. Moaning softly as you feel him deep inside, seemingly deeper than his fingers had been, and throbbing. Your fingers dig into his shoulders again and you slowly open your eyes as you breathe out. “Pero.” 

The urge to bury himself inside of you is strong but he remains in control, slowly rocking his hips so he can work his cock deeper inside of you until he is settled inside of you. He knows you are a keen horse rider so your innocence was likely taken during a saddling but he doesn’t care. He’s damaged goods himself and he knows some men would want you to be intact but this is kinder to you and to him. He closes his eyes once he’s fully inside of you, his fists clenched as he tries to not spill his seed before you can experience the pleasure of sex.

“I- I feel so full.” You whimper, your fingers dragging across his skin and your legs shuffling slightly. He’s so still on top of you and it makes you want to move, need to move. To chase the same sensation you felt when you had his fingers inside you. You gasp when you think of what you heard your maids back home giggling about. Riding a man as if he were a horse and you clench down around him thinking about riding Pero like that, his cock deep inside you. 

Pero hisses when you clamp down on his cock and he inhales deeply. He reaches down to grab your thigh and he lifts it higher so he can sink deeper inside of you. “Fuck.” He pants and starts to move slowly.

You moan again, eyes widening at how well you feel him. “I- oh Pero.” You whimper, trying to roll you hips down but he has you nailed to the bed with his cock. “I-f-fuck.” You stammer out, the curse unfamiliar on your tongue but it feels like it is necessary for what you are feeling right now as your husband moves inside you. 

Your curse has his cock twitching inside of you and he groans when your walls squeeze him. “Fuck, esposa. You feel - it’s - perfect.” He allows you a minute access to his thoughts and that seems to make you wild. Clamping down on his cock and arching your back to egg him on. He starts to move faster, lowering his hips and groaning your name as he tries to make this good for you.

You enjoy the rough sound of his voice. Moaning again as he starts up a rhythm to his movements and making you nearly gasp every time he pushes deep. You slide your hands down your back, playing over scars and working muscles rippling under the skin. You feel like he approved of your curse so you do it again, followed by his name. “It’s so intense.”

He likes to hear that because it’s a lot to him too. To be intimate with his wife. He never imagined he’d remarry but he starts to think it’s possible to have a marriage with you, to be able to survive without Maria…perhaps even be happy. He enjoys your touch and slides his hand up to cup your breast, squeezing and he shifts so he can lean down to take your nipple into his mouth.

You hadn’t expected his mouth. Wrongly assuming that kissing being too intimate meant any part of your body and not just your lips. “Pero!” You cry out loud enough that the servants might hear and arch your back up, wanting more of the pleasure of his mouth at your breast. “Oh fuck, oh fuck.” You whimper, shivering.

He loves hearing you curse, his cock twitching inside of you, and he switches over to your other breast. He bites down on your flesh, nipping and sucking, and he moves inside of you, grinding deep. “You like this, hermosa?” He asks, lost in the pleasure of being inside of you.

“Yes, yes Pero.” You moan, closing your eyes and lifting your legs to wrap them around his waist. You know that you are making him feel good. At least you hope you are. Feeling his thrusts start to build faster, his breathing catching and starting to pant against your skin. “So much.”

He grunts when he feels you starting to clench around him and he drops his hips so he can press his pelvis where you need him more. “Cum for me.” He pleads with a groan, needing to feel you cum before he finds his own high. “Por favor, esposa. Cum.” He demands and drags his tongue along your sternum.

You shiver at the feeling of his tongue on your skin. “Ohhhh Pero!” You cry out, body starting to shake underneath his with the next thrust of his hips as you start to fall apart. Pleasure whipping through every inch of your body as you moan.

He clenches his eyes shut when you clamp down on his cock and he bites down on your shoulder as he barely manages to pull out of you, his hot seed spilling on your thigh. “Fuck.” He pants, cock twitching against your hip as he rides his orgasm.

Your eyes open and you frown in confusion as you feel the wetness of his seed on your skin. “I- is something wrong?” You pant quietly, wondering if you’ve somehow disappointed him.

He frowns, pulling back to look down at you. “What are you talking about? I- nothing is wrong.” He’s trying to catch his breath and he shifts to lay down beside you. “It was good.” He assures you, “did you not enjoy it?”

“You-“ You bite your lip and look up at the ceiling. “You spilled your seed on my thighs.” You murmur quietly, wondering if there was something wrong with you that caused him to do that. He was supposed to finish inside you. That’s what everyone said.

Pero closes his eyes, trying to conceal the pain. “I know - I know we aren’t - tonight was our first night but - but I can’t risk you being with child so soon.” He admits, reminded once again of Maria dying during childbirth.

“I-I am so sorry.” You close your own eyes, mortified that you had brought up something so personal to him. “I understand. Forgive me for being so thoughtless.” You know you have ruined things and you swallow down a sigh.

Pero shakes his head, shifting to swing his legs over the side of the bed. “Don’t worry, esposa. I- I’ll leave you to clean up. I have work to attend to.” He declares as he stands and reaches for his nightgown. “I shall see you tomorrow.” He says, turning to look at you after he edged towards the door.

You nod. “Yes.” You know he wants to leave and you sit up, his seed cooling on your skin. “I will clean up and then choose another book from the library before I go to bed. Goodnight, husband.”

“Buenas noches, esposa.” Pero says and swiftly leaves your room. Tonight, he gave in to his desires and left you upset after he pulled out of you. He knows you will urge him to have a child soon and he isn’t sure he is ready for that conversation but for now, he will retire to his quarters to read over the accounts before he falls asleep. He’s not entirely sure how long he can continue keeping you at arms length but he has to try. He cannot lose another wife.

**** 

The next morning, you are surprised to find your husband in the dining room when you come in. “Buenas días, husband.” You see that he is reading some papers, so you move to your normal seat with the cup of tea you had retrieved yourself when you had gone in to see Lola. “I hope your night was restful.” You had decided that you understood where Pero stood on getting you with child and you wished to speak with him about it. “Have you ever used a- a condom before?” You ask him. “My maid back home said they can be purchased from the chemist. Perhaps that would be a good solution?”

Pero raises his eyebrows over his newspaper, watching you for a moment until he chuckles. “Is that what you wish for us to use? I am happy to let you manage our…situation if you wish.” He trusts you and he isn’t sure when that changed.

“You said that you did not wish for me to be - to have a child.” You don’t add the ‘yet’ portion because you feel like he would rather that be ‘at all’. “So a co-condom would help.” You shrug, slightly self conscious now. “We don’t have to use one.”

Pero nods, understanding what you are saying and he appreciates your planning. “Let us have Carmen fetch us some things and then we have the choice.” He says, knowing that it will be hard to keep away from you now that he knows how you feel. The passion inside of you scares him and he knows if he allows it, he will lose himself in you. He can’t put his heart back on the line and the children need a mother. With a nod, he goes back to eating his pan con tomate and knows that you will take care of the issue of birth control.

Carmen brings you a plate of food and you thank her, eating in silence with your husband. You had not expected grand conversations with him, at least at the beginning, so you do not try to disturb him with idle chit chat and when you stand after finishing, you give him a small smile. “Have a good day, husband.” You wish him softly.

Pero watches you go and realizes that maybe he doesn’t just want this to be a marriage of mutual benefit. He finishes his breakfast in peace and decides to spend the rest of the day near the children.

****

“Where is my wife?” Pero asks Carmen, who frowns, “she’s in her chambers, Don Tovar.” She answers and Pero frowns, making his way to your rooms and he is even more confused when he enters and calls your name, only to find you aren’t there.

Biting your lip, you urge the horse faster. Knowing that you are breaking your word to your husband, but it cannot be helped. Luis is feverish, and Carmen and Lola had been nowhere to be found when you had gone searching for them. Frantic about your husband’s son, you know it would destroy Pero to lose the last bit of his wife that she had given him. So you broke your promise. Currently racing to town to fetch the doctor, you pray that the instructions you had given his sister were working and that you will be able to bring the doctor back from town in time.

When Pero finds the children, he’s frantic when he’s told that Luis has a fever and you have left to go to town to find the doctor. He can hardly contain his anxiety, his hands shaking, and he growls at Carlos, “I’m going to fucking find her!” He feels like he’s losing control, his heart pounding and his breathing is heavy. His legs feel like lead and his brain focuses on you and his children. Is Luis dying? Is this his punishment for his time in the war? Is he going to lose you? He pants and collapses to his knees, Carlos reaching out to steady him as his vision goes cloudy. “I- I - can’t save them.”

It is to your detriment that you haven’t been to town, wasting precious time to find the doctor and demanding that he come with you back to the Tovar estate. Shaking with fear and praying that you make it back in time to help your little boy. You didn’t give birth to him, but you have grown close to the children and you have come to love their personalities now they are being taught and challenged, time being spent with them. The mischief of your first meeting was long gone. Rushing to your horse and as soon as the doctor is mounted on his own, racing for home.

Pero manages to stand up, shoving Carlos away as he demands to know where you’ve gone. “I - Alejandra said she’s gone to the town.” Pero doesn’t waste a second, rushing to the stables and swinging his leg over his stallion, no saddle, he pushes the horse to the limit as he gallops towards town. Images of you injured or dead flash in his mind and he realizes how you have wiggled his way into his mind and heart. Your kindness and the feel of you beneath him have his heart twisting at the thought of anything happening to you.

Frowning, you spot a rider in the distance on the road. Unsure of who it might be, you glance back at the doctor who is on your horses heels and then forward again. Recognizing the haste in the way you see the horse being pushed, dread knots in your stomach, realizing that it must be your husband. Lifting a hand, even though he is too far away to shout to, you wonder if he will beat you for disobeying him.

Pero sees you as he gallops and he nearly falls off of the horse when he pulls on its hair to slow it down. “You - what the fuck do you think you are you doing?” Pero yells as you approach him and the doctor’s horse skids as he comes to a stop.

“Luis! Luis has a fever!” You cry out, panting for breath as your horse stomps and shakes underneath you, “I- I had to get the doctor.” Your own mother had died from a fever sickness and the idea of losing his little boy on your watch makes you want to be sick. “I- we must hurry Pero! He cannot die, not like mama!”

Pero nods, knowing that now is not the time to have this argument. “You’re unharmed?” Pero asks and you nod frantically. His heart is pounding but you are safe and unharmed from what he can tell so he turns his horse around and the three of you gallop back to his estate, back in front of the sick little boy in record time. Pero kneels beside Luis, watching the doctor and he swallows harshly, “por favor. Just - do something.”

You twist your hands, knowing that Pero is worried and you start to pray yourself. Carmen has Alejandra in the other room and you can hear her comforting the older child. The doctor works and you worry, pacing the floors continuously, eager to bring the doctor anything he might need and bringing in the basin of cold water that Lola brings up.

Pero holds his son’s hand while the doctor assesses him and murmurs prayers as you kneel beside him. He reaches for your other hand, squeezing it as he prays and the doctor starts to drain the boy’s blood in hopes of bringing down the fever. “Bleeding should help the fever break. If not, I have some bark I think will help.” 

Pero swallows, his throat is dry, “whatever you can do. I- I can’t lose him.”

You try to be there for him. Sitting strong and praying as the doctor continues to bleed the boy until he claims that it is enough. Wiping him down and checking his forehead again with a small frown before he moves over to the teapot he had requested with boiling water. You squeeze Pero’s hand and glance at your husband’s worried face.

Pero doesn’t know how long he lays there, his heart and mind weary as he watches his son. The doctor gave him the tea and left, stating it “is in God’s hands now.” He’s not eaten, he hasn’t slept. He just sits there and watches the little boy breathe. He doesn’t know where you are, he sometimes wonders but he’s too concerned about his son.

You watch. Waiting for anything and everything that Pero or Luis might need. Often leaving the room to comfort Alejandra and to let her know how her brother is doing. You don’t want her to feel forgotten and eventually you allow her to come into the room after promising to be quiet. The two of you sit in a chair behind Pero and eventually curl up together and fall asleep together from exhaustion and worry.

Pero isn’t sure when he fell asleep, perhaps the exhaustion got to him and he simply rested his head on the cool sheets, his eyes closing without his knowledge. “Papa.” He doesn’t hear the weak murmur at first. “Papa.�� A small hand touches his hair and Pero’s nose wrinkles. “Papa.” The voice is stronger and wakes Pero up, his head shooting up to see Luis lucid and awake. 

“Luis” He gasps, reaching for him to check his views. His eyes are clear, his forehead cool but not cold. He’s okay. “Mi amor.” Pero chokes, wrapping his arms around the little boy to pull him into his arms.

You wake up, rousing Alejandra in your arms and nearly sob with relief that Luis is awake and alert. “Mama, is Luis okay?” Alejandra demands, her own worry for her brother causing her to not think about what she calls you. Your eyes widen and you try not to tear up at the honorary name, nodding and brushing her tangled hair back from her face and holding her close despite being on your lap. “It looks like he is.” You hum. “Go hug him and your papa.”

Alejandra nods, rushing over to her papa and her brother and she wraps her arms around them. Pero shifts, gathering the children into his arms and he sniffs, trying to ignore the tears that sting in his eyes as he embraces them. “Te amo, mijos.” He murmurs and looks over at you, “come here, esposa.” He gestures for you to come over to them.

Standing up, you are happy to see such a touching moment between the small family. You know you are a part of it now, but they are reminders of his wife and very dear to him. Walking over, you ruffle Luis’ hair and smile. “You gave us all a fright, Luis.” You hum, sliding your hand to your husband’s shoulder.

Pero reaches up to grip your hand in his, his terror at losing you or one of his children now subsided and in its place is joy that he doesn’t have to suffer another loss. The four of you embrace until Carmen comes in to attend to Luis, wanting him to eat something and drink. Pero tells Alejandra to stay with her brother and she nods. “I need to speak with you.” Pero says to you, his voice deepening as he reaches for your hand.

You swallow, aware that he will now punish you. You had disobeyed him and you know from everyone that Pero is a stern man. You follow him quietly, wondering why he is still holding your hand as he guides you out of the nursery towards your bedroom.

When Pero opens the door to your chambers, he pushes you inside. “What were you thinking?” He hisses, dropping your hand as he glares at you, “I told you to never go into town.”

“I was thinking that Luis was in danger.” You won’t apologize for your actions, but you understand his anger. “He needed the doctor and I could not find anyone.” You stand straight and stiffen your spine. “If you punish me, that is you right. But I would do it again. My mother died of fever and I did not want you to lose your last gift from your wife.”

Your words take Pero back and his jaw drops, staring at you as he absorbs your words. Your kindness knows no bounds it seems and that’s the moment it clicks for Pero. Unable to stop himself, he surges forward and you think he’s about to hit you but he doesn’t, instead, his lips press against yours.

You had flinched, you could admit that yourself but then you are gasping against Pero’s mouth, shocked that he is kissing you. He had told you that he wouldn’t do that again; it was too intimate for him. Yet his lips are warm and soft against yours and you cannot help but melt into him.

His hands grip your waist and his mouth moves against yours, his tongue sliding along your lower lip as he pulls you up against him. You moan into his mouth and his hands reach down to tug your skirts up, his hands soon pulling his cock free from his breeches, hard and aching. He needs you and he hopes you want him too.

You had expected a beating, not for your husband to fuck you. But you aren’t going to push him away. Your fingers tug on your petticoats and you quickly push them down. “Husband.” You gasp out when he pulls his lips away. “Please.” You whimper, enjoying his apparent need for you.

His hand grabs your thigh, lifting it over your hip so he can position his cock at your entrance and he pushes inside of you with a groan. “Fuck, hermosa.” He murmurs, caressing your thigh as he pushes deeper.

“Oh god.” You would probably collapse if he didn’t have his hand on your waist and use his strength to keep you upright. Wanting to kiss him again, you wonder if that was a fluke and he wouldn’t kiss you but you turn your head to kiss along his jaw while he throbs inside you.

He turns his head to kiss you, pressing his lips against yours as he starts to move inside of you. You’re so wet and tight and alive. You’re alive. He focuses on you and your touch, his mouth moving against yours as he presses you against the wall.

You had never considered that your husband could fuck you against a wall, and yet, it’s thrilling. You moan into his mouth and cling to him, not caring that his hips push you back against the wainscoting every time he thrusts into you. Your own tongue touches against his and your entire body shivers with pleasure.

“Fuck. Mi esposa. I- Don’t want to lose you.” He murmurs, kissing along your jaw, and he kisses down your throat as he lifts your hip a little higher so he can push deeper inside of you. “Fuck. Please. I need - I need you.”

“Pero.” You whimper, closing your eyes and letting him do whatever he needs to you. You are starting to fall for him, especially with how he worried for Luis.

It’s hard to imagine his days without you now. Cold nights alone have turned into passionate escapades scattered throughout the day, touches leading through the night. He has tried to stay away but you’ve drawn him in. He continues to work his cock in and out of you, groaning as he presses his lips to yours again.

Closing your eyes, you give yourself over to him completely. Clinging to him as he fucks you so deeply you know they you will be feeling him for days after. Even though he’s not wearing a condom, you expect him to pull out and spill his seed outside your body. The condom had been great and you loved the feeling of him pulsing inside you.

Pero kisses along your jaw, breathing you in and he needs you to clamp down on his cock. He grabs your other thigh, lifting you up completely as the adrenaline surges through him and he grunts as he lifts you up and down his cock, still pressing you against the wall.

Gasping, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and try to wrap your legs around him, your skirts bunched between you. “Fuck, Pero, I- I love you.” You moan quietly; needing to at least whisper it even though he doesn’t feel the same way. “So close.”

He hears it but he doesn’t respond. Instead, he presses his lips to yours and when you whine into his mouth, he groans against your lips when you clamp down on his cock. He should pull out but he doesn’t, too focused on you and how you feel and how he could’ve lost you. He grunts and keeps thrusting you through your orgasm until finally, he’s pushing deep and filling you full of his hot seed, painting your walls.

Your eyes widen and you are too busy worrying about the feeling of his hot seed inside you. Knowing he will regret it you are savoring this one moment. “Pero- Pero you have to let me- I have to bathe.” You whimper.

He doesn’t release you, his fingers digging into your flesh as he pants again at your chin, enjoying the feel of you surrounding him. “Don’t.” He murmurs, not wanting to let you go just yet. He can’t lose another person from his life that he cares for.

You frown but you don’t push him away, deciding that he knows what he is doing. “Okay, husband.” You pant softly, feeling him throb inside of you and start to soften. “Is-is this my punishment?” You ask teasingly.

Pero chuckles softly, pulling out of you and lowering you down to the floor. Your skirts settle down and he reaches down to tuck his cock back into his breeches. “No punishment.” He assures you and reaches for your hands, “please…just do not go into town unless you are escorted.” He compromises, knowing that it will be hard to overcome his anxiety surrounding town but he cannot keep you prisoner.

You bite your lip, aware that your husband is compromising. “Yes.” You murmur softly, leaning in and pressing your lips to his cheek. You don’t want to push him for more than he will give you so you won’t kiss him on the lips unless he kisses you first. “Thank you, Pero.” You hum, smiling as you pull back to look into his dark eyes. “I will have an escort.”

Pero nods, letting go of your hands and he is pleased that he could compromise. The idea of you going into town terrifies him, he doesn’t want to lose you. The children clearly love you and he - he has affection for you. 

**** 

Pero looks up at you as you enter the dining room. He stands up, walking over to pull your chair out for you, taking over the job from the footman. “You look beautiful, esposa.” He murmurs, caressing your cheek as you stand before him and he helps you sit down.

“Thank you.” You give Pero a smile, but you’re slightly nervous. Your monthly time has been missed for several months now and you woke up feeling nauseous and your breasts being sore. You are with child and while your husband has become warmer to you, you don’t know how he will react. It’s true that there have been several times since the day Luis was sick that he hasn’t worn the condom, he had also still worn it and never said anything about having children with you or your confession of your feelings. You’ve never repeated those words again. “I’ll just have some weak tea and toast.” You tell the footman before he disappears to let Lola know you are ready for breakfast.

Pero frowns, usually you order more at breakfast and he wonders if you are unwell. “Are you ill, esposa?” He asks and wonders if you are okay. He watches you as you eye the cup of tea with a grimace and he calls Carlos over to order the doctor to come to the house.

“I think that I might have some kind of stomach malady.” You admit with a small groan, covering your nose from the aroma of the tea. “It should pass.” You have an idea of what is wrong but you don’t wish to alarm Pero.

Pero is concerned but knows the doctor will help you and Carlos will ensure his swift arrival. Your breakfast is hardly touched and he will inform Carmen to let Lola know to prepare a light but generous lunch for you. He is concerned, knowing how Luis was and he’s terrified that you are going to end up with the same fate.

After breakfast, you still feel ill, laying down and resting even though you know you should be watching the children. You feel dizzy and nauseous and you wonder if all women feel this way when they are pregnant. You are sure that is what is going on, emptying your stomach of the tea and the few bites of toast you had managed into the chamber pot under your bed.

Pero greets the doctor, escorting him to your chambers. This is the same doctor who was present when Maria died and the midwife called for him after there were complications. The two men exchange a look before Carmen announces the doctor’s arrival. “I will leave you to it.” Pero says after everyone enters.

“Oh, I didn’t know Pero was calling a doctor.” You sit up, embarrassed and hoping that the nausea has passed. “I am afraid that I am not quite feeling myself.” You admit when he tuts and brings his bag over. “I think- I think I might be ….” You lower your voice. “Expecting.”

The doctor nods, “very well. Let us check and we can confirm, Señora Tovar.” He says softly and under Carmen’s watchful eye, he performs his tests. Feeling your stomach, he smiles. “Congratulations, Señora. You are with child.” He offers you a soft smile and Carmen grins, “congratulations.”

“Thank you.” It’s a relief to know that is what is wrong, but you wonder how Pero will take the news that you are expecting his child. “What can be done about the nausea?” You ask him softly. “My mother died young and I have never been around someone expecting.”

“I have a tea I can provide your cook with to assist with the sickness.” The doctor informs you and is soon bidding you goodbye. When the doctor exits your quarters, Pero looks up, eyes questions and the doctor pats his shoulder. “I believe your wife had good news.” Pero swallows, knowing what that means and he thanks the doctor before Carlos escorts him out. 

Exhaling shakily, he walks over to your room and knocks, entering your chambers to find you sitting on the edge of the bed. He sits down beside you and reaches for your hand, “esposa.”

“I’m sorry, Pero.” You start quietly, looking down at your joined hands. “I know that you wished to wait, or to never have children with me.” You are worried that he will be upset, that it will ruin the closeness you have felt with him lately. “I do not know what happened. I’m - I am going to have your child.”

He squeezes your hand, “don’t know what happened? I think I do.” He chuckles softly. “And…and I’m not angry about it. I knew what could happen and you are an incredible mother to Luis and Alejandra. I think you’ll be amazing.” He assures you, “and I - I want to have a child that is half you and half me.”

You let out the breath you had been holding and smile. Relieved that he is not upset and you are able to be excited for the first time. “I think it will be wonderful.” You admit, although you frown after a moment. “I promise I will not go into town, even with an escort, when my time draws near.” You don’t want him to worry about another wife, even if he doesn’t love you, he would worry.

Pero nods his gratefulness, knowing you now understand his anxiety and reaction. Especially after you ran off to fetch the doctor. He knows he is going to be even more protective of you. “It’s good news, hermosa.” He promises, leaning in to kiss your forehead, brushing his nose against yours until his lips brush your lips.

You’ve found there is comfort in his kisses. A certain sense of home that you’ve not found anywhere else as the nights in his bed progressed. It was often you ended up sleeping together after your pleasure but you had never voiced that sentiment of love again. You desperately want to say it again, but you are afraid to, afraid of being reminded that you are not his late wife and he had warned you that he wouldn’t love you.

**** 

As your pregnancy progresses, Pero gets more and more anxious. He’s nervous of the birth, reminded once again of Maria dying after giving birth to Luis. He swallows harshly as he leans against the wall, trying to calm his racing heart. You’re going to give birth soon according to the midwife and each day makes his anxiety threaten to overwhelm him.

Every day that passes, you can see your husband slowly start to unravel. He is sleeping less and worrying about you. Not even allowing you on the stairs without someone. Making you ring a bell to have someone come help you. Most often he works from your chambers, moving his work to your writing desk. You sigh as you slide your hand over your stomach, panting slightly. The pains had started last night but you had kept it from him, knowing he wouldn’t sleep and he desperately needed the rest.

Pero sees Carmen rushing through the halls and she slows down when she sees him. “What’s happening?” He asks, frowning, and the young woman bites her lip. “Tell me.” He demands and Carmen knows she can’t deny him, “she’s having pains. The birth is happening. I must fetch the midwife.” Carmen rushes out and Pero’s eyes widen. 

“Fetch the doctor too. I will take no chances.” He says and Carmen nods, rushing off. Pero drops everything he is doing and rushes to your chambers, “esposa. Is it true? You’re having pains?” He asks, eying you in the chair in the corner.

You would deny it, to spare him a bit more time but another pain makes you clutch your stomach. Bending over slightly as you start to moan quietly. It lasts for a long time and by that time you relax, you are panting. “I am.”

Pero rushes over to you. Guiding you over to the bed, “come, you must lay down.” He shakes his head, trying to take your shoes off. “Why didn’t you send for me?” He asks, caressing your ankle as you settle against the pillows.

“You have not been sleeping.” You remind him quietly. “I know you need rest and if I told you, there was not any rest in your future.”

Your whimpers make his heart clench and he shakes his head. “Mi - esposa. Come, do not worry about me. I will worry until the babe is in your arms and you are well and healthy.” His voice wavers for a moment and he wonders if you notice as he wipes your forehead of the beads of sweat.

“It will be well.” The midwife has assured you that you are carrying well for a first time birth and believes that it will be a simple thing. Reaching for his hand, you smile at him softly. “I have already asked that you be allowed in the birthing room if you need.”

Pero is surprised and pleased, kissing your damp forehead. “I won’t leave you.” He promises and brushes his lips against yours. “I’ll be here. Every single second.” He vows as Carmen comes back in with water and a flannel.

You get changed into a clean nightgown, Carmen helping you although you don’t mind your husband being there. He has seen you naked more than your own nanny when you were a child. Getting settled back down into the bed, you grip Pero’s hand and cry out when the next pain washes over you.

Pero lets you squeeze his hand as you try to ride the pain. You whimper and Pero frowns, “where is the midwife?” He asks, starting to get impatient. “And the doctor? I called for him as well.” He growls, looking over at Carmen.

“They are coming, Don Tovar.” She assures him, knowing that he is worried about his wife. Everyone has seen how much the Don has come to care about his wife and they are all happy for him. You are kind and loving and it will be good for him to love again. “The doctor is impressed with your wife and has already said he will come whenever summoned.”

“He needs to be here. I will allow no one to take a singular risk. I won’t have my wife’s health and the baby’s health put in danger.” He hisses and squeezes your hand when you groan at the pain. “Are you - you need anything?” Pero asks, wanting to make sure you have everything you need.

“Water.” You beg quietly. Labor is harder work that you realized and you feel parched from it. 

Pero nods and squeezes your hand again. “Whatever you want.” He promises, kissing your hand and rushing over to the tray Carmen had brought you earlier.

Pero returns with the water, letting you sip it and he wipes your forehead with the wet rag Carmen hands him. It seems like the sun is setting when you are finally ready to push. The midwife checking you and announcing it’s time. Pero is terrified, this was the time Maria lost too much blood. He remembers the sheets being soaked with it as Luis cried. He grips your hand, sweat beading on his brow as his heart starts to pound

Clenching your teeth together, you try to make sure that you don’t scream during the next pain. It makes Pero uneasy every time, he pales when you scream and grip his hand as tight as you can. You know that he is scared and even though you are in pain, you’re worried about him.

Pero feels unwell but tries to stay strong, each clenched scream bringing you closer to having his next child and he is terrified. Terrified of losing you. During your marriage, he has grown close to you. Spending many nights in your bed, even if he hadn’t touched you. He can’t imagine his life without you now. “Come on hermosa, you can do it. Push.” He urges you on, wanting you to concentrate.

Nodding, you sit up slightly and start to push. Bearing down with all your might, you see the midwife between your thighs as you start to feel more pressure.

Pero watches you push, his eyes darting between you and the midwife and he’s worried, he’s so scared that he’s gonna lose you. His hand grips yours as he watches you push and he’s silently praying.

“I can’t- it is too much.” You gasp out, falling back against the sheets as you pant. 

The midwife clicks her tongue and looks up at you. “One more push, señora, and the bebita will be in your arms.” She promises you. “Next time the pain comes you push as hard as you can.”

“You can do it, hermosa. You can do it.” He eggs you on, sweat beading on his forehead as he watches you struggle. “Come on, mi amor. Come on.” He says, wiping your forehead.

You close your eyes, tears leaking out of the corners as you barely hear the words that you have wished for far longer than you should have. Holding his hand, you nod, bearing down with all your strength and pushing your baby into the world. Feeling them slip from your womb with a rush of relief.

Pero watches the midwife cradle the crying babe, her smile wide and Pero starts to cry, relieved and so happy at seeing his child born. “Felicidades, Don Tovar, it’s a boy.” She announces and Pero leans in to kiss your head. 

“A boy, amor,”

“A boy.” You sob, exhausted and relieved and more than a little emotional about hearing ‘amor’ again. Almost terrified that he is thinking of his late wife and reliving that horrible night with a happier ending through you. “We have another son.” You pant, reaching for the baby when the midwife hands him to you.

Pero looks down at the screaming babe in your arms. His eyes sting with tears and he looks at you in awe. “A boy. Another boy.” He murmurs, kissing your forehead. “Amor.”

“He’s beautiful.” You murmur quietly, brushing your hand over his wet forehead. “Perfect.” His ten little fingers are curled into fists and he has ten perfect little toes. “Isn’t he?” You ask, looking up at your husband after you manage to tear your eyes away from your new baby.

Pero leans in to rest his forehead against yours, loving how you are cradling the baby and he knows Luis and Alejandra are excited for his arrival. “He’s perfect. So is his mother.” He murmurs, caressing the baby’s head.

You hum, not sure how to take that and look back down at the baby. He’s turning his face towards you and crying, searching for your breast. “Put him on the breast.” The midwife tells you. “Your milk will come.” You nod, opening your nightgown and guiding him towards your breast and gasping when he latches into your nipple.

Pero watches in awe, the midwife working on helping you with the afterbirth and the baby mouths at your nipple. Pero kisses your forehead again, he’s so perfect. You’re perfect. Hermosa, I- I love you.” Pero chokes, never imagining that he’d fall in love again but he couldn’t help it, you’re too beautiful and kind. The children love you and you’ve made his life so much better.

Your eyes widen and you look up at Pero in shock. “You- you love me?” You ask in astonishment, sure that would never happen for you. He nods and you start to cry. “I love you too Pero, I love you and our three children.”

Pero leans in to kiss you, “I love you. So much. I- I didn’t think - after Maria - you’ve brought this home, my children…me…back to life.” He murmurs and kisses your forehead. “Mi esposa, hermosa, amor. You are everything to me. I owe you the world.” He murmurs, looking down at the little boy.

Your smile is watery, but overjoyed. You had come to Spain to marry a man you didn’t know and was told that he could never love you. Now you have a beautiful son, two other children that adore you and your them, and a loving husband. Your father had chosen right. You were a family.

[psychedelic-ink]

ㅤㅤㅤ❤︎ 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘

ㅤhistory professor!pero tovar x f!reader

genre: smut, dark academia, minors dni

word count: 2k

summary: you've been suspicious for a while from the way he speaks. talking about historic events with such an affinity as if he's actually been there. the thought refuses to leave your mind and brings you to his office where he gives you answers but not without a price.

prompt: Their history teacher had a way to talk about historic events, just like he had actually been there. (click here for the prompt list)

warnings: unbalanced power dynamics, professor/student, fingering, mild dubcon due to the nature of the dynamic, pero is a bit of an asshole, size kink, rough piv, age gap

requested by @dinjardin

**amazing gif made by the most talented fanna aka @pedrorascal xx

His presence is large within the office. You always found him to be intimidating with his broad shoulders and hard gaze. The intensity of it would always take you by surprise. It would make your stomach jump and skin crawl. You would always wonder how such a soft color could look so intimidating and angry. Pero doesn’t lift his gaze as you enter, seemingly unbothered by your sudden interruption. Briefly, you look around, taking in the sight of worn books and ancient artifacts. 

You swallow and look down, scanning the detailed lace of the end of your dress— maybe it was wrong of you to assume something so drastic, and frankly, unbelievable. Then again, the look in his eyes as he spoke of certain events…the way his gaze would grow cloudy and almost rueful as if speaking of a time he missed…you had to investigate, you just had to ask. 

Raindrops begin to fall against the glass panels, neither of you looks to watch the soothing droplets slither down. 

“How can I help you?” He asks, fingers deftly moving over the paper and scribbling down words you cannot see. “It is very unlikely for you to come and visit after hours. You must have a good reason.” 

Pero’s not asking if something is wrong or not, he’s not telling you to take a seat. Every single sentence is a statement, a hint of a threat, he’s telling you not to pry. You remain silent. All the words you wish to speak suddenly foreign to your tongue. His eyes flit between the stacks of paper and you, noticing your inability to speak, he sighs and leans back against his chair. Your eyes follow the vein meandering down the side of his neck, a sliver of sun-kissed skin peeking from under his white button-up shirt. 

“If you are too cowardly to speak, I suggest you leave,” the corner of his lips twitch into a cruel smile. “Some things are better left unspoken.” 

His words sting and you immediately know you can’t leave this room without confronting him. You’re not a coward. You’re not some little girl throwing a temper tantrum. You noticed something and you want to seek the truth. You hear the blood rushing to your ears, your veins expanding as your pulse quickens. He’s watching you intently, eyes glimmering with amusement as if he’s watching the breaking point of the heroine. 

“I’m not a coward, professor.”

“No?” 

“No,” you lift your chin and his smile widens into a grin. “Your words only prove that there is something going on.”

Something dark crosses his eyes, something that sends a chill down your spine, “How about this,” he starts, lacing his fingers above his belt. Your eyes instinctively drop to them, making you realize that he did it on purpose. It’s not much, but you still manage to witness the outline of his cock. “If you guess what it is that I am hiding, I’ll confess fully. But if not, I get to touch you how I please. You get two guesses.” 

“That seems hardly fair.” After a brief thought, you add. “And unprofessional.” 

He shrugs with a smile, “Then I wish you a good day. See you in class tomorrow.”

He knows you’re not gonna leave this room. And you know that he knows. There’s no way you’re backing down after coming this far. You fix him a half-hearted glare as if you’re thinking about another way to get him to speak. But in all honesty, you’re not at all appalled by the thought of his hands on you. Touching you in places he’s not supposed to be touching. He’s a handsome professor. One of the professors that the other students constantly remark about, and you’re not immune to his deep dark eyes and mischievous, teasing smile.

“Fine,” you answer through gritted teeth and he lifts two fingers, eyes full of flickering amusement. “Okay, my first guess is that you’re a time traveler.” 

His gaze lights up and for a second you think you’ve got it right, your heart starting to pound fast. Your mouth goes dry as you stare at the two fingers.

He lowers one, and slowly, he stands.

“Wrong,” he purrs, this voice thick. The professor rounds the desk and comes to a halt behind you, his body only a breath away. You hold your breath. “ Where should I touch you first? Here?” With both hands he cups your breasts, squeezing them lightly. Your breath catches in your throat, your pulse quickening from where his lips hover an inch away from your neck. “Or here?” His hands slither down and slip to your back, he cups your ass, the plump flesh filling his palms.

A whimper is caught in your throat and he lifts one finger in front of you, “Tell me your second guess and final guess.” 

“Um,” all the answers you previously had feels silly to you now. “You’re a supernatural being, like a vampire or something.”

“Vampire?” He laughs, loudly. The sound booms in your ear, the thick hairs above his lip tickling your skin along with his warm breath. Embarrassment floods your senses and your eyes drop to his weathered desk. You feel the touch of his lips on your ear. “No. I am not a vampire,” he waits for a beat and then chuckles darkly. “You are out of guesses, senorita.”

His hands slip under your shirt and roam, taking in every detail of your burning body. He pulls down your bra, with his thumbs, he plays with the pebbled flesh. His touch makes arousal gather quickly between your legs. You squirm as you finally feel the full press of his body. His cock hard and aching between his legs. Some part of you wants to argue and say that this is more than a touch, but the other part of you is deadly afraid that he’ll stop.

You don’t want him to stop.

He pinches your nipples and slightly twists them, your body jolts, lips parting with a gasp, “Professor—“ 

“You really want to know what I am?” He mutters, dragging his nose down your cheek. You nod but honestly, with the way his hands are kneading you’re breasts, you realize you don’t care much about it anymore. “I am cursed to live out the rest of my days. Watching the times pass me by, watching everyone I once called a friend die.” You shudder at his tone, your body seizing at the sharp feel of his teeth. “I lived over and over. Now I am at a point where I do not care much about anything anymore.” 

Your eyes go wide as he kisses your neck. His lips are soft and slightly damp. It feels good against your skin. A soft whimper escapes your lips. it’s hard to register what he just said, to understand what he means. Some part of you feels as if you’ve already known this. That he lived a thousand lifetimes and will live a thousand more.  

Pero doesn’t give you a chance to speak. Before you can remark or offer some comfort, he holds you by the neck and shoves you down to the desk. His hips are pressed firmly against your ass, his erection tucked between your cheeks. Your breath hitches. With the corner of your eye, you see ungraded papers whipping around you and falling to the floor.

“One of the things that time has not changed is how even the most proper women become whores after I bend them over just like this.” 

He must be right because you end up grinding back toward him, wanting to feel more of his cock, body, and presence. He grins against your skin. With large hands, he pushes up your dress and exposes your covered thighs. It doesn’t take him long to rip away your stockings. Warm palms stroke the flesh of your ass, he slides your panties to the side, exposing your soaked pussy to the chilled air of his office. 

“Let’s see how wet this cunt is,” he teases, voice dropping. Two fingers spread your folds and push between them, your chest heaves as he slips them inside of you with embarrassing ease. You don’t need to look at him to know he’s smiling. He starts thrusting in and out, the wet sounds of your cunt flooding the room, burning your ears. It’s so loud. A fresh wave of arousal soaks his fingers, dripping down his wrist. “How hard do you want me to fuck you?” 

You push back against him, walls fluttering as you take his fingers knuckle deep. “Filthy,” he coos. “You’re a mess already. My sweet student is such a slut for her professor. Isn’t she?” 

“Yes,” you gasp, wiggling your ass. His groan rattles in your chest and you moan at the richness of the sound. 

He pulls out his fingers, his other hand still pressing you down by the back of your neck, “Gonna fuck this pussy until it's drowning in my come,” he says. “Then you’ll be coming here every day, asking—begging me to fill these pretty holes.”

His cock is so much bigger and thicker compared to his fingers. Your body coils tight. The head of his length stretching you incredibly wide. You moan through gritted teeth, a sound of both pleasure and pain seeping into the wood underneath your cheek. Your skin prickles as he presses forward, your jaw going slack. He feels so incredibly big. He reaches deep inside of you, stroking places that you thought weren’t possible before. You writhe underneath him. Your body clenching him tight. He moans loudly when he’s fully heated inside, his cock throbbing and twitching inside you. You let out a deep breath and force your body to relax. He seems to notice. The only kindness he shows is the soothing glide of his palms over your back. You hum and sigh at the feeling.

But the tenderness is short-lived. Pero pulls out until it’s only the tip remaining and with a deep growl he snaps his hips forward, filling you with one smooth thrust. You scream his name, your body burning from the inside out as he pounds harder and harder into you. You’re drooling all over his cock, your nipples tight from where they rub against his desk. He fucks himself deeper into the tight fist of your cut and takes. He takes and takes and takes until you’re lifeless like a doll underneath him. Pleasure licks the base of your spine.

“Come on you professor’s cock,” he rasps into your ear, cock sliding in and out of you with ease. Your body begins to seize. Pero straightens, whine tearing from your throat at the lack of body heat. He roughly takes a hold of your hips and hammers into you, skin slapping against skin, until you’re coming undone around his cock. You cry out and the entirety of your body twitches uncontrollably.

Pero continues to thrust into you, his grip on your hips never faltering as he rides out his own orgasm. His groans and grunts mix with your own moans and cries as he fills you to the brim just like he promised.

Your mind is a blur of pleasure as you feel his cock pulse and twitch inside of you. It's overwhelming and you feel yourself start to come undone all over again. Pero's hands move from your hips to your breasts, giving them a rough squeeze before his fingers pinch and tug at your hard nipples. He pushes even deeper, some of his release dripping from where his cock mercilessly stretches you. A soft whimper drops from your lips. 

He finally pulls out of you, your body limp on the desk. Pero stands up and looks down at you with a satisfied grin on his face. He watches you try to catch your breath. 

“You're mine now. All mine, even if you do not want to be,” he says, pulling his pants back up and adjusting himself. “And you will keep coming back for more.”

You're too exhausted and sated to even respond, but deep down you know he's right. There's no turning back now. 

[pedrito-friskito]

Hiiiiii

for your Sundae thing, I’d like to do the roll for a fic option.

Americas Ass Dice bc lol, Pedro character, and if you could combine a smut and fluff prompt that would be awesome, but if not just smut is fine.

this is such a cool idea ❤️

hi lovely!!!! ok so….this one got away from me. I rolled a smut and a fluff and we got “is this real? are…are you real?” for fluff and “take off your clothes before I rip them off your body” for smut. and I rolled my favourite medieval grump, Pero Tovar! thanks for requesting, sorry I took so long, but I hope you enjoy! 💕

take my hand - pero tovar x fem!reader

word count: 4.3k (it got away from me I’m not lying LOL)

warnings: canon-typical violence, war, fighting, pero is a bit of a simp, explicit sex, unprotected p-in-v (wrap ur shit even in the old days okay)

(gif by @pedrohub)

Pero finds himself in the middle of yet another war.

He follows William, because he owes his friend a debt — a life debt. If William had not bartered for him, Pero would still be rotting away in that cell, or perhaps the soldiers would have lit black powder beneath his feet just to see what would happen. He tries not to think about it too hard.

Regardless, he has followed William, and his friend has somehow lead them to the edge of another battle, one far too large and vast for them to steer around. Everywhere he looks, blood spatters and arrows fly. The glint of blades make his hands hunger for his own swords, the sound of metal clashing ringing in his ears as they inch nearer.

“There is no going around this, Pero,” William says, squinting into the fray. “I wonder what sparked such bloodshed.”

An arrow whizzes past their heads at that point, embedding itself in a tree not three feet from Pero’s horse. In response, the steed rears back, tossing Pero from his saddle before disappearing in the direction they’d come. “Stupid fucking creature,” Pero grits, wincing as he gets to his feet. William slides from his own saddle with slightly more grace, and claps Pero on the shoulder.

“All we can do is move through the fray, my friend,” William says, pulling the bow from his shoulder and nocking an arrow.

Before Pero can protest, William disappears into the battle and Pero’s view is quickly obstructed by the clashing soldiers. With a growl, he unsheathes the two blades at his back — grateful as anything that William had thought to return them to him — and darts forward, swords at the ready.

As he moves through the fighting, finding William a little ways into the crowds, an interesting memory tugs at his mind, nearly tearing his focus. He lifts his curved blade to block a sword aiming for William’s back — though they bare no colours, he knows the pair of them appear enemies to either side — and the memory sparks to life.

+

He was young, too young, when he left the village he had grown up in. Barely out of boyhood, he was conscripted as a soldier, forced to fight in a war he had no interest in fighting. His mother had wailed when they carted him away, his little sister hiding her tears in their mother’s skirts. Their father had died not a year prior, and his entire being had instantly filled with worry at leaving them alone.

Pero reached his hand out, calling to his family, when you suddenly stepped into his vision. You grabbed his hand, running to keep up with the soldiers carrying him off, and squeezed his fingers. “I’ll watch over them, Pero,” you promised, your eyes bright with tears. “Just come home to us.”

He’d known you since he was small. The house you lived in bordered his own, a small fence separating the scraps of land. You’d grown up together, in a sense, spending your childhoods running through the grass behind your houses, playing pretend in the trees and swimming in the river that snaked through the village itself.

He was barely a man, and you were barely a woman, but you had the ferocity of a girl beyond her years. Pero could see it, even then, and especially when you swore to take care of his family.

It made conscription a touch easier, knowing someone he trusted was looking out for his mother and sister. Still, he longed for home, and on especially lonely nights, he longed for you.

The night before the soldiers had come to take him away, you’d rapped on the back door of Pero’s house. His mother and sister were asleep, and worry had leapt into his throat when he first opened the door to see you standing there, your eyes shining with starlight. “Is something wr—” he started, but you shushed him and grabbed his hand, hauling him out the door.

“Come with me!” you whispered excitedly, and Pero let you drag him down through the grass, right to the edge of the river. He tried his best to ignore the spark of warmth between your twined hands, the sounds of the night filling his ears as you toed off your shoes, gesturing for him to do the same as you stepped into the water.

“What are you up to?” he questioned, but followed you, the water lapping at his ankles.

Your hands were still linked together, and you pointed up to the sky. “Look, Pero.”

He’d never seen so many stars. The open air in the fields generally offered some impressive night skies, but this was something else. Too many to count, little dots of light everywhere his eyes moved. And then, as he stared up, something shot across the sky, as though a star was trying to move from one spot to the next. He hasped and you clutched his hand with both of yours.

“Isn’t it amazing?”

Pero’s gaze lowered, catching on your face, upturned like his. Your expression of pure awe was nothing short of beautiful, and his heart climbed up into his throat.

He’d always known you, but for the first time, he felt like he was seeing you.

“It is,” he agreed, and his free hand slowly lifted, palm finding the curve of your jaw, fingers fanning across your skin. “You are.”

“Pero—” you started, your face tilting back down to his. He moved closer, testing, making sure you wanted this just as much as he did. When he paused, you pounced, and when his lips met yours, Pero swore he saw the starry skies above bursting with light behind his eyelids.

You stood there in the riverbank, water around your ankles and your arms finding their way around each other, kissing for what felt like hours. When the water grew too cold and the sky above started to lighten with the coming day, you parted and moved back onto the grass. Pero found a blanket for you to lay on and kept himself close to you, kissing you in different ways, finding which way you liked best.

“I heard rumours,” you said after you’d both broken apart, desperate to catch your breath, “that the King’s men are marching through the villages conscripting any men old enough to fight.” There was fear in your eyes, burning hotter than the starlight. “That means you, Pero.”

The realization had sent a chill down his spine and he’d nearly toppled back.

“Promise me something,” you continued, finding his hand and slotting your fingers through his. “Please?”

He nodded and leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. “Anything, bonita.”

“Promise me you’ll come back.”

“I promise.”

+

The quiet thwip of an arrow zipping past his ear yanks Pero back to the present, deposits him back into the fray. His grip nearly falters as another blade connects with his own, but the memory of your voice, suddenly so clear, has him tightening his hold, swinging the blades down and around, the point of his own sliding through the gut of his attacker. The man falls with a groan and Pero can feel his heart hammering in his chest, rioting like a caged bird.

It’s been an age since he thought of you, thought of his promise.

It was not for want of trying. He fought the King’s battles for years, lost more friends than he cares to count. Your voice in his head kept him going most days, led him through each practice with his swords, every day growing more and more confident in his blades until they felt more like an extension of him than a weapon. He had to keep himself alive, keep himself whole, so he could one day return to your village, to his family. To you.

But the wars had other plans and soon enough, he was a man grown. There were other women, and he knew you would have had other men. You were beautiful as a young girl, and Pero would be the first to admit he’s often wondered how your beauty flourished over the years. 

With every clang of his sword, he wishes you well, wishes you a happy life, a man that loves you, takes care of you. Maybe a house in that village you both grew up in, your own children running up and down the lakeshore where he’d first kissed you. He’s loath to admit he wishes he was the one to give you that life, but he wishes it for you all the same.

Men fall on both sides of him, and Pero continues through the fray. He’s lost William for certain now, and just focuses on moving forward, dodging blows on either side, spilling blood of his attackers with nearly every step. 

Arrows fly from both sides and he swears he feels the sharp tip in his shoulder before he sees it. He growls, his left side exploding with pain and launches his curved blade in the direction the arrow came. It finds it’s mark, felling the archer that shot, and Pero barrels forward, ignoring the pain, lunging for the archer and pushing the blade deeper, yelling as he goes.

“Pero Tovar!”

Pero whirls, the voice familiar and unfamiliar all an once, his memory of you tinged with the battle raging around you. Surely he’s not still caught in his own head.

But it is you. Real as the arrow lodged in his shoulder, as the blades in his hands, the hot blood on his face. You stand before him, equally covered in the gore of war. A crossbow dangles from one hand, a short sword from the other, a quiver of bolts for the former strapped to your leg. Blood spatters across your face, a bleeding gash along your collar, the hem of your cloak ripped and caked with blood.

He barely notices the soldiers that rush past as he closes the distance between you two. Your arms open for him, your face pinched with a mixture of concern and relief as he stumbles into you. You hold him to you, tilting away from his injured shoulder, and Pero can feel your eyes everywhere, inspecting him, your hands brushing his back.

Somewhere, he finds his voice, and when he does, he’s that young boy on a riverbank again, not the scarred, war-torn man he’s turned into. “Is this real? Are…are you real?”

Above the din of battle, you laugh, and the sound is like bells. “Yes, Pero, I’m real.”

He tilts his head forward just a moment, until his forehead touches yours, until he can be sure. When he feels your warm skin against his, relief floods him, blocks out any pain he feels. “I thought you—”

You hush him, squeezing his good shoulder. “Time for that later,” you say, pulling back, your eyes darting around the battlefield. He sees a soldier barrelling towards the pair of you, but before he has a chance to raise a sword, you’ve lifted your crossbow and taken aim. The bolt makes a home between the soldier’s eyes, and Pero nearly topples over. “We need to get out of here.”

You stow your short sword, curling your fingers around his wrist. His mind flashes to William, his friend somewhere buried in the fray, and he must speak his concern aloud, because your head turns back to him, your eyes peering over his shoulder. You gesture with the crossbow. “Is that your friend?”

Pero turns, ignoring the pull of the arrow still embedded in his shoulder. Sure enough, there’s William, atop a new horse, shooting arrows left and right, dropping soldiers with every shot. He spots Pero, his eyes flickering to you beside him, and turns the horse in your direction. “Tovar, my friend,” he calls, bow hanging from his grip. “Who is—”

“Ride west,” you order, and the power in your command makes the hair on the back of Pero’s neck stand up. “Clear a path. My horse is beyond the edge of the forest, it’s a few hours ride to a safe place.”

Both men stare at you blankly, Pero hoping his gaze is full of admiration while William just looks confused. With a huff, you drop Pero’s hand, stalking over and turning William’s horse west. He opens his mouth to protest, but you smack the horse’s rear before he can get a word out, and off he goes.

“Come,” you say to Pero, offering your hand. “We need to go.”

He nods, takes your hand, and you start moving. William clears the path, as ordered, and it’s easier to get through than Pero is expecting. You lift your crossbow as you go, dropping more than a handful of men, and Pero manages to raise his sword more than once, blocking arrows from your body. Soon enough, you’ve reached the edge of the fighting, and you drag Pero into the trees. He follows you blindly, the ache in his shoulder more noticeable now, but he keeps going.

Eventually, you reach your horse, as promised. A chestnut mare that shakes her head at your approach, whinnying happily when you stroke her nose. You climb into the saddle with ease, offering your hand to Pero, and he takes it again, groaning as he clambers up behind you. You click your tongue at the horse, reins in hand as Pero slides his arms around your middle, mindful of the arrow shaft still sticking out of his shoulder. 

It’s not an easy ride. Every trot jostles him, making the pain spark. Somewhere in the first hour, he reaches up and snaps the shaft of the arrow off, tossing it away. It makes it easier for him to lean closer to you, to fit his face in the curve of your neck. You smell oddly good, like blood and battle mixed with something so achingly familiar his chest goes tight with it. He tightens his arms around you, fingers laced together over your belly, and as he settles a little deeper into your back, your hand covers his, brushing over his knuckles in a soothing motion.

“Is that the place?” William calls after the second hour. Sure enough, a small cottage lies at the forest’s edge, obscured enough that you wouldn’t notice it unless you were looking for it. You nod, nudging the horse a little faster. She must recognize the place, because she leads you around the side of the cottage, where a small pasture is fenced off, and steps right through the open gate. You slide from the saddle, reaching up to offer Pero your hand, and he takes it.

Back on solid ground, safe from the battle, he can’t help himself. Your lips part, words on your tongue, but he stops them, takes your bloody face between his hands and kisses you. The world around melts away, and he’s only vaguely aware of the pain in his body, William’s horse brushing past, the win through the trees. For a moment, there’s only you.

It’s a deeper kiss than he’s ever given you. Childhood has melted from you both, kept alive only by the memories, from the affection he’s held for you all these years. Something in him stalls then, has him pulling back, a flicker in his chest when he sees the way you chase his lips, your eyes hooded.

“Gods, I’ve missed you,” you murmur, and the hesitation that made him stop, the thought that your own affection had waned over time while his had stayed alive, vanishes, and he pulls you in again. The taste of you is different on his tongue, more addicting, and it brings his body to life in ways he’s only learned since he left you. His mind races, forming images of all the ways he wants to please you, more than the teasing kisses he gave you on the riverbank that night, both of you too young and innocent to know what else to ask for.

William clears his throat loudly, and you break apart, though Pero doesn’t let you go far. He’s still close enough to feel the heat on your cheeks, and he noses at your hair as you address his friend. “We should get inside,” you say, your palm flattening on Pero’s chest. “Let me tend to your wounds and get us something to eat.”

+

A few hours later, and all is quiet in the small cottage. Your stomachs are full, thanks to you — a delicious rabbit stew Pero told you multiple times was the best meal he’d had since he left home — and your wounds have been tended to. Your collar needed a stitch or two, and Pero had to sit back and watch William’s careful efforts; his injured shoulder made it impossible for him to trust himself not to hurt you further. The blood has all been washed away, clothes washed and hung to dry, spares given to both men for the meantime.

You show William to one of the bedrooms, make sure he has everything he needs for a sound night of rest before returning to Pero. Silently, you offer him your hand, and he takes it. His heart riots in his chest as you bring him to the other bedroom. The air is heavy with promise, warmed by the fireplace in one corner, and your grip loosens once you’re inside. Pero steps toward the bed, the mountain of pillows and blankets all too inviting, but turns to see you hovering in the doorway.

“If there’s anything else you need,” you stammer out, your eyes glued to the ground. Pero’s brow lifts and he closes the distance between you quickly, pulling you through the doorway completely and shutting the door behind you.

“There is,” he tells you, knocking a knuckle beneath your chin, lifting your eyes to him. They’re just as full of stars as he remembers, just as full of wonder and promise. “You, bonita. I need you. But only…only if you’ll have me.”

Your breath rushes out of you, warm across Pero’s mouth. “If I’ll—” You cut yourself off, falling into his arms. He catches you and holds you close, the flat of his palm roaming your back, sliding down the curve of your spine, just hovering over the dip of your lower back, the swell of your ass.

“Move that hand lower, Pero Tovar,” you murmur, a slick smile on your face, “or I’ll move it for you.”

He does as he’s told, grabbing a handful of your ass through the thin linen trousers you’d donned after getting cleaned up. For a second, he thinks his mind is playing tricks on him, that the heat the greets his fingers when he adjusts his grip, slides his hand past the waist of your trousers, gripping your skin for real, that it’s a figment of his tired imagination. But then a moan slips out of you when he grips you again, your knees parting to let his thigh slip between them. Pero drinks down the noise, kisses you like he had when you’d first arrived, not so silently begs for more.

Your hands clench in his shirt, a soft cotton tunic you’d given him to wear. He can feel the bite of your nails through it, and he’s desperate to feel your skin against his. You tug at the material and Pero grins. “Tell me what you need, bonita.”

“Take off your clothes,” you bite out, reaching up with on hand and gripping his chin, nipping at his bottom lip, “before I rip them off your body.”

He moves as quickly as he can, the ache in his shoulder unnoticeable as he tears the tunic off, reaches for his trousers. You’re naked before he is, and his trousers are barely off his hips when he sees you, all of you. He can’t stop himself, grabbing you, pulling your body flush to his and bringing you back to the bed. He lays you out, lets his mouth rove lower than you lips, tasting the flesh of your chest, ducking your nipple between his teeth. He’s attentive, watching the way your body reaches to each touch he offers.

Pero sets himself beside you on the bed, his mouth moving back up to your own while his hand wanders. Your knees snap together when his hand travels past your hips, cupping the heat between your legs, trapping him there. He smiles into your kiss. “So wet, bonita,” he murmurs, letting one finger tease your dripping cunt, the heel of his hand grinding into your clit, “so sensitive.”

You whimper into his kiss, the sound like honey to his ears, and Pero buries his face in your neck, nipping at your pulse. “Wait, Pero,” you say softly, and he freezes, pulling back, searching your face.

“What is it?” he asks, using his other hand to brush the hair from your face. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, no,” you assure him, shaking your head, chewing your lip. “It’s just…”

His brow lifts. “Are you…” He can barely get the question out. “Are you a virgin?”

“No,” you reply, lifting your hand and tracing a finger over his scar. “That’s just it, Pero. I tried…I tried to wait for you. I wanted you to be the first, but then…” You shake your head again. “They told us you were dead and I…I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” he repeats, like the word is foreign to him. “Bonita, I never expected you to wait. I never expected to see you again, truth be told. The god of luck must be on my side, throwing you back in front of me like this.” He drops his head, presses a soft kiss to your shoulder, careful of the injury at your collar. “I wanted you to be the first, too, but I…” He clears his throat. “I can think of something much better.”

“What’s that?”

“Perhaps I can be your last, and you mine.”

Your breath hitches as you pull him back down to you, the next kiss you offer even deeper than before. Pero drinks you down, memorizes the tastes of you. His hand works between your legs, two fingers pressing inside you, finding that deep spot that makes your body jolt in his arms. He murmurs to you softly in Spanish, words he knows you understand, and coaxes you up to that peak, thumbing at your clit as you topple over, gripping his wrist tight enough he can feel his bones shift.

“Pero,” you groan out, your chest heaving as you come back down, your lashes fluttering as you breathe. “More.”

“More, bonita?” he prompts, pulling his hand away, licking his knuckles clean. He’s not shy about it, sucking the taste of you from his skin, dropping his face to your chest when he’s done, scraping his teeth along the curves of your breasts. “Tell me, how much more do you need?”

“Need you inside, Pero,” you reply, your body writhing beneath his, back arching into his mouth. “Need to feel all of you.” Your hand snakes down between your bodies, fingers wrapping around his cock. It makes his breath stutter in his chest, but he doesn’t let up his ministrations, nipping at your sternum. “I can’t tell you how many nights I laid awake, with my hand between my legs, thinking of where you were, the man you’d turned into, how well you’d fuck me if you were there with me.” Your other hand grips his chin again, lifting his head from your chest, your eyes locked with his. “Don’t keep me waiting any longer.”

“Sí, bonita,” he grits out, and maneuvers you both the best he can. He slides to the edge of the bed, pulling you into his lap. You’ve got him hard as a rock between your hot kisses and your heady touches and your dirty words, and his cock bobs against his stomach, sliding through the dip where your thigh meets your hip as you settle into his lap. “You like it like this?”

“I’m yours, Pero,” you say, your voice soft. “You can have me however you like.”

The words make something in his chest snap. Pero slings his arm around your waist and lifts you just enough to notch his cock at your entrance, groaning at the heat that instantly floods him. Unable to hold back any longer, he pulls you down hard, filling you to the hilt in one fell swoop, and the loud gasp you let loose is music to his ears. 

“Mine, bonita,” he growls, gripping your hips in both hands, bouncing you on his cock. “All mine.”

Your words are gone, replaced with open-mouthed nods, your brows pinched together. You twine your arms around his neck, locking your fingers in his hair. Pero plants his feet on the ground, uses the floor as leverage to piston his hips up into yours, driving his cock deep into you, finding that same spot his fingers had grazed. It makes your body seize, your chest plastered to his, and Pero can feel the quick thump of your heart as you start to climb that peak once more.

He’s not far behind you, and when you clench around him, pleasure flooding your body a second time, he can’t hold back. Pero drops his mouth against your shoulder, bites down hard, and your responding moan has him spilling deep inside you, painting your insides with his spend. The feeling is almost too much, overwhelming in all the right ways. 

“Gods above,” you murmur, your fingers stroking through his hair, your lips at his temple, “that was…”

Pero lifts his head and finds you mouth, giving you a soft kiss that tastes of salt and a tinge of copper. “Everything, bonita.” Another kiss. “That was everything.”

[famouslyanonymous]

Would love ❤️ some Pedro Pascal character fics that don't involve age gap. Have the x female/AFAB reader close in age or even a few years older. Please and thank you! 😌😘. If you write one, please tag me 🥰🥰🥰 forever grateful

[lavendertales]

Pedro Pascal masterlist

My blog, as most of my works, are EXPLICIT (** indicates smut). AGELESS/EMPTY BLOGS & MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED!!!

NARCOS MASTERLIST 

DIN DJARIN MASTERLIST

FRANKIE MORALES MASTERLIST 

JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST

OTHERS

Oberyn Martell x f!reader x Ellaria || Flavor**

Oberyn calls you to his shared chamber again, this time with something particularly lustful on his mind.

Oberyn Martell x f!reader || Body say**

On your birthday, Oberyn makes sure the festivities are appealing to you, and he offers you the most wonderful gift of all.

Ezra x f!reader || Shameless sanctuary**

You have a wish you want to inflict upon Ezra and luckily, he’s all about indulging you.

Dave York x gn!reader || Strangers in the night 

After accidentally walking past your ex-boyfriend, all the memories keep rushing in, as well as the ex himself.

Dieter Bravo x f!reader || Loverboy**

When a drunken Dieter makes a move on you, you start to realize that maybe he had the right idea all along.

[multimuseficreblogs]

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 ❅ all pedro pascal masterlists ❅ all marcus moreno masterlists ❅ all marcus pike masterlists ❅ all max lord masterlists ❅ all max phillips masterlists ❅ all oberyn martell masterlists ❅ all pero tovar masterlists

𝐩𝐞𝐝𝐫𝐨 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐥 ❅ all pedro pascal ❅ all pedro smut ❅ all pedro fluff ❅ all pedro angst ❅ all pedro pascal x gn reader ❅ all pedro pascal x male reader ❅ all pedro x plus size reader 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐨 (𝒘𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒃𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒐𝒆𝒔) ❅ all marcus moreno ❅ all marcus smut ❅ all marcus fluff ❅ all marcus angst ❅ all marcus x gn reader ❅ all marcus x male reader 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐬 𝐩𝐢𝐤𝐞 (𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕) ❅ all marcus pike ❅ all marcus smut ❅ all marcus fluff ❅ all marcus angst ❅ all marcus x gn reader ❅ all marcus x male reader

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𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 (𝒈𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔) ❅ all oberyn martell ❅ all oberyn smut ❅ all oberyn fluff ❅ all oberyn angst ❅ all oberyn x gn!reader ❅ all oberyn x male!reader 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐨 𝐭𝐨𝐯𝐚𝐫 (𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒍𝒍) ❅ all pero tovar ❅ all pero smut ❅ all pero fluff ❅ all pero angst ❅ all pero x gn reader 𝐭𝐢𝐦 𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐝 (𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒈𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏) ❅ all tim rockford ❅ all tim smut ❅ all tim fluff ❅ all tim angst ❅ all tim x male reader 𝐳𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧 (𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒔 + 𝒔𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔) ❅ all zach wellison ❅ all zach smut ❅ all zach fluff ❅ all zach angst

𝐩𝐞𝐝𝐫𝐨 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐚 - 𝐣

[misspearly1]

Day Twenty-Eight: Hate Fucking - Pero Tovar

Kinktober22 List

WC: 3K Warnings: 18+ Content. Minors DNI. Cursing. Enemies to Lovers. Smut. Unprotected PIV sex. Voyeurism. Female Masturbation. Dominant/Manhandling. Degradation Kink. (F is called a dirty little slut). Praise kink. AN: Hehehe! I loved writing this, I really liked the enemies to lovers part in this story. I hope you all enjoy the read.

-

If anger had a face, then it would be Pero Tovar's right now at this exact moment and it’s because of you.  

You joined William Garin’s little band of mercenaries three years ago, and there’s been this ongoing feud between you and the Spaniard for so long now that you have forgotten the original reason as to why. Although, you do remember the most recent reason as to why you were pissed off with him and that’s because he tore holes in your bedroll, so naturally, you had to get revenge. 

It’s a game of tit for tat between you and Pero, destined to go too far one day. You can see it coming, but for now it’s just the little inconvenient things that you do to piss him off. For instance, he tore holes in your bedroll, making it uncomfortable for you to sleep on, so you returned the favour and burned his bedroll on the campfire. 

Looking at him now and seeing the cold glaring expression he was giving you as he stands beside the roaring flame of his bed in the fire, you grin. You grin at him with an ear-to-ear kind of smile, acting as innocently as you could. The other men and women sitting around the campfire snicker to themselves, the sound fuelling the rage behind his brown eyes. 

The man is pissed off, there’s no doubt about that, but what other act of revenge is better? He shouldn’t have messed with your bed and now he can sulk as he sleeps in the dirt tonight. He has the coins to buy another tomorrow and maybe, just for shits and giggles, you might sabotage that one somehow too. Just to get the message across. 

Rising from the floor with an obnoxiously loud yawn while you stretch, like rubbing dirt in his wounds, you look around to the group and say goodnight. “Alright. I’m tucking in for the night-” You pause to look directly at Pero, a little smirk on your lips. “Have a good sleep boys and girls.” You turn to walk away, relishing in the laughter over your shoulder, even William chuckled about it. “Well, it is your own fault, Pero.” He says, and you smile sweetly at his remark. 

Williams got your back sometimes when you do stupid things like this, and of course, he has Pero’s back too when he does stupid things to you too. At some point the dispute between you both has to be dealt with properly like adults, but just for a little while longer, you’re going to enjoy making the man’s life miserable because it’s fun. 

Making your way to the edge of camp and opening your tent, you climb inside and smile at your brand new bedroll and quilts. You bought them today at the market, even splashed out a little and got the extra padding. It fits perfectly. You take your shoes off and place them in the corner, then turn around to close the tent and undress, but Pero comes out of nowhere and pushes you back onto your ass.

“Make way,” He grumbles and steps inside your tent. 

“Um, excuse me!” You complain as he turns around to close the entrance. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” You ask, to which he responds by kicking his shoes off. “No-no. Absolutely not, Pero. Get out of here. This is my tent. Get it? MY tent, as in mine and not yours.” 

“I know that, but-” He turns to face you again, wearing the same glaring expression he had from earlier. “-It’s ours until I can buy another bedroll tomorrow at the market. Get it? OUR’s, as in, this is what you get for burning mine, hermosa.” 

“Pero. You can’t sleep here, I won’t allow it.” You huff and cross your arms. 

“Yeah well, good luck kicking me out.” He grins. The fucking asshole grins, clearly mocking the way you smiled at him earlier around the campfire. It felt like a giant ‘fuck you’. In fact, he may as well have just said the words and flipped you the bird too. You’re pissed off and can’t do anything about it either.

You sit and look at him, wide-eyed with shock and disbelief as he opens up his shirt. He’s serious, genuinely serious, but when he reaches for his belt buckle, you shake your head and object. “No - don’t you dare Pero Tovar,” You give him a serious, grave look, showing that you’re not messing around. “The pants stay on. Otherwise, I’ll cut your dick off in your sleep.” 

“Oh,” He visibly cringes at the thought, then nods in agreement. Kneeling down and yanking your quilt up, the action pushing you to the side, he climbs into your bed and gets comfy. Literally making himself at home, like this is where he sleeps every night. You sit for a moment, calming your breathing as this is your hell until the morrow - sleeping beside Pero.  

“Asshole.” You mutter, yanking your quilts back before laying down and facing the opposite direction to him. “C’mon now, we both know this is a dream of yours, right?” Pero retaliates with a dark chuckle.

Turning over to face the same direction as you, he scoots closer and presses his chest to your back, his proximity and choice of words making your cheeks burn red with shame. Does he actually know or is he just saying that frivolously? You ask yourself. 

“Tell me something, hermosa-” Pero scoots closer again, purposely pressing his crotch into your ass as he wraps his arm around your front. You bite your lip, fighting the urge to moan and melt under his touch. “-Did you think I wouldn’t be able to hear you moaning my name when you pleasure yourself at night, hm? It’s funny how your tent is always beside mine.” 

Shit. He does know. You panic now, really panic and burn redder than a tomato for quite clearly being caught out by him. It’s true. Completely and utterly true. You’ve pleasured yourself plentiful while moaning his name into your blankets, but apparently not quiet enough. The man is loving every second of your silence, it only fuels his determination to mock and ridicule you even more.

“Hmm. That’s a bad girl, Y/N.” He growls, then tuts quietly into your ear three times. “I should teach you a lesson.” His fingers roam the expanse of your stomach, toying with the waistband of your pants. “Oh but, I think you’ll like that won’t you?... I have a better idea-” He jerks on you to lay back then moves to hover above you. “-Show me, hermosa. Show me how you pleasure yourself and tell me what you think about while you do it.” 

“B-But Pero-” You try to protest and explain yourself, until he places his finger to your lips, cutting you off. “No-no,” He shakes his head with a smirk on his lips, “Save it for later you dirty little slut. Do as I ask, and I’ll reward you, Sí?” 

Nodding eagerly, you’ve dreamed of Pero dominating you like this, dreamed of him manhandling you as he fucks you senseless. You've wanted him so badly, wanted him inside of you and if that means pleasuring yourself in front of him, then so be it. The idea of it is turning you on anyway. 

You make a surprised sound as he leans down and kisses your lips. You didn’t expect him to but are pleased that he did regardless. He lowers his hands to your pants and begins pulling them down, along with your undergarments, before breaking off to take his very first look at your sex. You’ve always wondered how he’d react. 

“Oh. Already wet, I see.” He groans deeply and licks his lips, as if imagining what you taste like. “So pretty and…” He pauses to spread your folds apart. “Hmm, so pink and swollen too. I knew you had a sexy pussy, bebita.” Removing his hand from your cunt, you whine from the loss of his touch. “Go ahead, precioso. Satisfy yourself like you do every night.” 

Audibly gulping, you hesitate briefly with stage fright. You’ve never done anything like this before in previous relationships, it’s usually just the regular plain and simple kind of sex, but you’re intrigued to explore this intimate act with Pero’s dark eyes watching you from above. You feel… desirable and naughty. 

You look down at your body briefly, then back up to his eyes before bringing your hand to your mouth, but upon seeing one brow raised from Pero, you lift your hand to his mouth instead. Your breathing begins to quicken with excitement and wonder as he darts his tongue out and licks the pad of your finger. You want to feel that tongue of his somewhere else.

The smallest sigh escapes your lips as you lower your hand between your legs, and with a quick curt nod from the man, your fingers slip through your wet folds with ease. “Oh,” You moan softly, rubbing nameless shapes on the little bundle of nerves with him watching you attentively. 

“Tell me, what do you think about when you do this, chica?” He asks, looking back up at your face then quickly snaps his fingers, the action springing your eyes open after you had closed them on instinct. “Look at me and answer my question.” 

“I think about you,” Replying with an answer that clearly wasn’t good enough, you could see that he wasn’t happy with it and elaborated for him. “I close my eyes and imagine you doing this instead.” You admit, your brows furrowing together as you press two fingers to your entrance. “I picture your cock inside of me instead of my fingers, Pero.” 

“Even though I would stretch you open? My cock is a lot bigger than two fingers.” He asks another question, making you quiver and clench as you nod to him. “Words querida. I know you can use them.” He jerks his chin out with request. 

“Yes,” You moan as you bend your fingers into a come hither motion. “Yes, I picture your cock inside of me instead, even though it will stretch me open Pero, I still want it… still want you.” 

“Well, today is your lucky day.” He smirks. Pulling your hand away from your cunt and pinning it above your head, you hold your breath in anticipation as he uses his other hand to free himself. You watch as he pulls his pants down just enough so that his cock springs back and slaps his lower stomach, and you panic slightly at the sheer size of him. He wasn’t messing around. The stretch is going to be phenomenal. 

The head of his cock is large, angry red and already leaking beads of pre-cum, then the length of him is six, maybe seven inches at the least, but the girth. Jesus… The girth is wide, bulging with a couple prominent veins. His balls were full and heavy, nicely covered with hair. You can tell just by looking at the hair on his sac and mound that he keeps it tidy and clean.

“Spread your legs, bebita,” Pero whispers breathlessly, taking himself in hand. “And spread them wide.” 

You didn’t know where to look as you parted your legs for him. At his face, which was drinking in the sight of your cunt, looking like it’s the best one he’s ever seen. At his manhood as he slowly strokes himself, swirling his finger over the head of his cock, gathering the pre-um. Or look down at your own body as he moves in to line himself up at your entrance.

It was especially arousing to watch the man gaze at your pussy, not even looking up at you as he slid his cock up and down your slit. He was just enjoying the way your body reacted to his touch, the way you clenched around nothing and quivered for him. He decided to tease you a little more by barely slipping in and out, taking pleasure from the way you lift your hips, as if chasing after him. 

“Hm, so needy.” Pero chuckles, finally looking up into your pleading eyes. “When was the last time you had sex, cariño?” He asks, to which you stutter out in reply. “L-Last year, f-ffuck. Pero, please.” You whine, lifting your hips up again as he pulls the tip out. It’s torture feeling him breach your entrance and giving you all but a taste of what’s to come. You want the whole thing, but he wanted to keep you waiting. To drag it out as long as he possibly could. 

“A whole year, huh?” The man tilts his head in question, eyes darting to your shirt briefly before he lifts it up, exposing your breasts. “Not with anyone here, I hope,” He groans at the delectable sight of your tits, nipples hardening before his eyes with the cool air. “If you’re going to be my little plaything, I don’t want anyone getting in the way of that.” 

“No, not with anyone here.” You answer quickly, rotating your hips. “No one will get in the way, Pero. Stop teasing me, please.” You beg, beg for him to give what you so desperately want, but he only smiles, as if he was pleased with your answer, but not ready to give up teasing you just yet. You resort to whining for him, feeding his sick, twisted desire of hearing you plead for his cock when suddenly, he thrusts forward. “Pero!” You scream, scream loud enough that even God himself would hear. 

“Nnnngh. So fucking warm and tight,” He growls deeply, pinning both hands above your head now as he takes a moment for your walls to relax around him. The first thrust inside was almost enough to make him cum, it felt so good and euphoric. He wishes he could stay in that moment forever, wrapped tightly with the warmth of your cunt. 

“Fuuuck,” You sob as he pulls out, missing the fullness of him for only a second as he plunges back inside. “Holy shit!" You pulse around his length, feeling every inch of his girth before he pulls out again and sets a quick, brutally deep pace, touching your cervix each time he bottoms out inside. 

“Love this, don’t you, cariño.” He asks rhetorically. Pile-driving into your pussy and knocking the breath out of your lungs each time, you only managed to whimper for him in reply before he leans down and presses his forehead against yours, panting heavily across your face. “That’s what I thought. Good girl, Y/N. Good fucking girl, taking my cock so well.” 

“P-P-Pero,” Your moan stutters its way out as you fall apart for him. You wanted to express how much you’ve wanted this, how long you’ve wanted it for and how many times you’ve pleasured yourself thinking about him fucking you this way, but all you could do way lay there and moan pleasurably while taking his pounding. 

“I know, bebita, I know.” He reassures, mockingly. “Just feels so good for you, doesn’t it? My cock is so big and fat, reaching deep inside and fucking you just right like the good little slut that you are. Just like you imagined me to fuck you. I know, Y/N. It’s okay.” 

Yanking your hands away from where he had them pinned, you grab onto his shoulder and wrap your legs around his back, mewling directly into his ear that you’re close. The man skilfully changes his rhythm, keeping his thrusts short and grinding into you, using the hair on his mound to stimulate your clit. “Where? Fuck! Where, cariño?” He asks, nearing his own peak too. 

“Inside. Please, please, inside.” You plead seconds before coming together. White static erupts behind your eyes and your skin burns with heat. The ecstasy floods your bloodstream as the tension in your abdomen unravels. You feel the pleasure wash over your body, making your toes curl and your fingernails dig into the skin around his shoulder, but then, then you feel his release. It’s warm and plentiful, painting your walls with ropes upon ropes as he reverts to a slow grind. 

“Dios mío! (Oh my God).” He whines, actually whines as he rides out the peak of his climax. The sweat clings to his skin, making the brown curls of his hair stick to his forehead as his thrusts becomes sloppy and ragged, as if releasing everything in his ball sac into you. There’s so much that you feel it escaping your pulsing entrance, dripping down to the bedroll beneath your body and making an audible wet sound each time his hips connect with yours. 

As Pero slows and eventually collapses onto your body, breathless and exhausted, you thread your fingers through his hair and pull his head back to look at you. “Hey. You okay?” You ask, concerned, and he nods in reply, unable to form a coherent sentence at this particular moment until he catches his breath. “Good. That’s good, asshole-” You tease playfully with a smirk on your lips. “-Because now it’s my turn to get you back for making me wait so damn long.” 

You roll over, pin his hands above his head and look down at the stunned expression on his face, clearly taken aback, but so fucking hungry for your revenge. And what Pero doesn’t know yet, but will very shortly, is that you’re exceptionally good at edging a man so good that he will cry for mercy. 

That’s exactly what you plan to do - make Pero beg for his orgasm.

-

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[whiskeynwriting]

Gluttony

Warrior!Pero Tovar x Curvy!Female Reader

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Word Count: 14k

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI) again, there's a lot lol

food play (I never know what to call this), alcohol consumption, dirty talk, praise kink, innocence kink, size kink, virginity, dry humping, slight exhibitionism, oral sex (m and f receiving), vaginal fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, multiple orgasms, cum play, mentions of war, mentions of sex work, reader is a little curvy, slight body insecurity

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A/N: Jesus Christ writing for Pero is just always so good. 

Co-written with @phnyx, beta-read by both her and @fishingforpike I love you both you amazing people

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It’s overwhelming, the entirety of it all. The atmosphere loud and bright, jolly and full of life. To think of a celebration that could compare to that of tonight would be to recall events that happened before you were even born. And while your senses have been stimulated to their limit, you can’t help but enjoy the night. 

The prediction for war’s end had been nowhere in sight, not a single soul had the slightest clue as to when the men would return. Husbands, uncles, brothers and sons, all gone in order to preserve the place they call home. It was valiant, honorable, and although many women worried, they often boasted about how proud they were of them. And now that they were home, no one could contain their joy. 

There was hardly any time allotted for you to prepare. Due to the soldier’s swift victory and even swifter return, you had less than a week to prepare for their arrival. Being that your tavern was the biggest in your small village, it was obvious that the celebration would be held here. You, being a servant at the establishment, were expected to not only attend but work. And you did so happily. Not only were you delighted to welcome the soldiers home, you were thrilled to welcome the hero home.

“When are you going to work up the nerve to visit him?” Another barmaid, Lucia, asks you. 

“I don’t know.” You playfully snap, your cheeks becoming hot just at the thought. 

“Your job is to fill cups,” She reminds you. “And his will need to be filled very soon.”

You know this, of course you do. Every soldier here was enjoying the feast, but no one was stuffing themselves like he was. After all, he is the guest of honor. You sigh while watching your friend walk off, on to fulfill her duties. You’d be wise to fulfill yours, too. 

Every seat in the house is taken, the tables full of meat and bread, aged cheeses and wines, honeyed meads and expensive fruits. Desserts were to be served, too, although the hero of the night already looked to be getting his fill of sweets.

He’s not yours, he’s not anyone’s, but you can’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy when you see the women surrounding him. As soon as he stepped inside, he was offered whores left and right; one of the many tributes offered to him tonight, alongside coins of both silver and gold and the grand feast currently being served. He was the reason they returned home so early, the reason they left the battlefield victorious. He should expect this, to be showered in praise and love, complete adoration for protecting the town and bringing the men home. Just because it’s expected, doesn’t mean you can’t feel a bit covetous. Although, while you hate to admit it, those women have so much more to give him. They have experience in pleasing men, he’ll be happy with them. 

 “Are you waiting for specific instruction?” Priscilla, your boss with quite the heavy accent, suddenly asks. 

She comes up from behind you, surprising you into a quick jump. She places both hands on her hips, raising an aggravated eyebrow at you. 

“Hm?” She continues to question you, but you just stand there, unsure of what to do. “Go!” She then shouts, turning you around with her hands. “Fill their cups; do what you are told to.” 

With a small gasp, you turn, shoved forward by one of her incessant hands. Stumbling onward, you take a few grounding steps before making your way to the head table with confidence. Or at least, what you can muster of it. 

The feast smells delicious as you make your way through the crowd, walking down the aisles between each table. The meat has been prepared excellently, the smells of garlic and herbs wafting through the air. Sweet notes are also mixing with the smells from the various alcohol and fruits being served around you. You hadn’t eaten yet, not tonight, and won’t be able to until the celebrations have died down. After that, you’ll get table scraps. And even though your tummy is now growling hungrily, the topic of food is quickly shoved to the back of your mind once you see him. 

He sits in the center of the table, laughing while surrounded by his friends. Women sit on either of his armrests with one standing behind him. They each have at least one hand on his body, stroking his shoulders and arms and chest. And he looks magnificent, still adorning his armor only now it has clearly been shined. It’s bright, the metal gleaming due to the surrounding candlelight. You wonder if he’s been bathed since being back home. And then, you find yourself wishing you were one of the tavern staff. Surely that was one of their duties to tend to. 

“Girl!” A man to your left shouts, startling you. He chuckles. Looking toward him, you realize he’s holding up his mug, an expecting look on his face. 

“Of course,” You manage a smile, shuffling a bit to the left to pour more wine into his cup. And then, you turn to face him, the man of the hour. “Ser?”

Pero looks up to you, a jovial smile on his face. The women continue to caress him, his broad, dominant hand holding one of their naked thighs. His eyes run over your figure, his smile remaining. And then, they dip down to the jug in your hand, giving it a single nod.

“What is it?”

“Wine, ser.” Already, you’re glancing down. You’re nervous, you can’t help it. 

Ever since Pero had been gone, things were boring around town. He was the main thing you and the other women would talk about. Pero wasn’t exactly a friendly man, although he seems to be tonight. But even so, none of you minded. In fact, that only added to his allure. He was quiet, stoic, and stern with other men. His complexion was dark and to say the least, he appeared quite mysterious. How could anyone deny the appeal of a strong, brooding warrior protecting your town? And now, he’s considered to be a hero, as if there were anything else that could make you more attracted to this man. 

Grabbing his cup, he holds it out to you. “Gracias, hermosa.” (thank you, beautiful)

Leaning forward with a gracious smile, you tilt the jug until the blood-red liquid begins to trickle out. But all too quickly, it runs short.

“Oh,” You frown, and so does he. “I’ll, I will return with more.” 

This makes him grin. Attentive, the word floats through his mind. And dutiful, too. He likes that he didn’t have to ask you. 

While turning away, Pero’s eyes fall to your hips’ elegant sway. He’d eyed you throughout the night, at first only because he was curious as to why you’d not come to give him more wine. But when he saw you, he was interested in more than just the fermented fluid. Licking his lower lip, those dark brown orbs follow your waistline, your backside, those pretty legs strutting along as you fulfill your duty to serve him. He wonders if you could serve him in more ways than this. 

You seem to have stirred some distaste with the woman surrounding this honorable man, because upon your return, you’re greeted with a multitude of glares. Pero is speaking with another man when you come back, so instead of interrupting him, you simply lean forward to fill his mug. 

“You brought two?” He raises both eyebrows, immediately returning his attention to you. He even leans forward, removing his hand from the woman’s bare leg. You figured you might as well offer him more than just wine now that you’ve worked up the courage to. 

“Yes, ser.” You hold up one jar, “Red wine,” and then the other. “And honeyed mead.” 

“Fill my cup with red and I will try the mead next.” 

Nodding, you do as he requests. This time, instead of returning to his conversation, he stares at you, watching you pour the liquid into the cup he’d been drinking from throughout the night. 

And then, he feels compelled to ask. “Why is this the first time you have served me tonight?”

Swallowing down your anxiety, you return to your upright stance, the nerves that were once subsiding now coming back with an evil vengeance. Your face runs hot, and it’s noticeable, too. But it only makes him smile at you. 

“I, um, my apologies, ser.” The women around him laugh quietly at you. They’re clearly older than you, too, and you can’t help but feel inferior to nearly everyone around you in this situation. Averting his gaze, you set one of the pitchers down, rubbing your outer arm.

“I, well…”

“Do I make you nervous, little one?” 

That nickname returns your shy eyes back to his much more confident ones. Daring a glance at the other women, you return your look to the ground before inevitably nodding. 

“Why is that?”

“You’re so… it’s impressive. Your strength, your battle strategy…” Your heart is pounding in your chest, thundering in your ears. 

“Do you think I will use either trait against you?” He muses with a teasing grin. His words seem to lighten the mood, bringing out a bashful smile in you. 

“No.” You mutter with a smile, shaking your head. 

He continues to eye you, briefly biting down on the corner of his lower lip before making another decision. Placing both hands on one of the women’s hips, he ushers her off the armrest she’d be sitting on. She scoffs lightly, mouth gaping at him in shock. But he pays her no mind.

“Come,” He offers, gesturing to the now empty ‘seat’. “Sit.”

“Oh, I, I would love to, ser. But I…” Turning, you look back at the bar. 

“Worrying is for the wretched,” He insists. “Tonight, you will dine with me.” 

“A-Are you sure?”

“Niña linda” He almost coos to you, and his tantalizing accent draws your gaze right back to him. “Sit.” (pretty girl)

Setting the second jug on the head table, you awkwardly make your way to the other side, passing the rejected woman on the way. With a tight breath, you slowly begin to maneuver yourself up onto the armrest beside him. You feel like a prize he’s won, and as misogynistic as that feels, you find yourself loving it. 

Scoffing, Pero notices your struggle. “Come here, hermosa.” Wrapping an arm around your waist, he easily hauls you onto the thin wooden surface, snuggling you close to his side. (beautiful)

“Oh,” You gasp quietly, feet instantly lifted off the ground. His sheer strength astonishes you, and truthfully, makes the space between your legs burn bright. 

Your hair is tied back in an extravagant braid, your face and body cleanly, smelling of fresh linens along with notes from the white lilies and violets you always keep in your room. Your outfit is clean, the colors bright, the outline well hemmed, too. You put a great amount of effort into your appearance tonight, and Pero can tell. But you look nothing like the other women surrounding him. Their hair drapes elegantly over their shoulders and down their backs, truly highlighting their beauty. They are dressed in little to nothing, some wearing jewelry, too, bracelets and necklaces likely bought for them by other men. And beneath your clothing, your body was dissimilar, too. These women had small, perky breasts, thin bodies with tight skin. They looked like goddesses among men, their chest and stomachs smooth, taut backsides with muscular thighs. And although you didn’t eat often, you’re aware that you’re bigger than them. You have a larger bust and backside, a bit of a tummy with wide thighs. Altogether, you didn’t think you even compared. Why did he want you? 

“Surely you won’t need them all.” You hear a soldier declare, becoming a bit louder in his conversation with the prized warrior - who still has his arm around your waist, by the way. 

“No,” He sighs, taking a large swig of his wine. “I suppose I won’t.”

“Then which do you want?” He offers, leaning back in his seat as he gestures to the three of you surrounding his chair. “Take your pick.” But Pero doesn’t even look around. 

“They’re beautiful, each of these tributes.” He grins, flirtatiously raising a brow. “But I know what I want. Village whores cannot give me that.” 

“What is it that you want, Tovar?” The man leans forward to rest his forearms on the table, genuinely curious as to what his brother in battle will say.

“I do not wish for a brazen woman.” Pero states, shaking his head. And to this, you listen in. “I want an untouched woman.”

“A virgin.”

“Sí, mi amigo.” Comes his almost eager response, his voice enticingly low. “A woman pure, innocent…” Slowly, he turns his head to you. “Unclaimed.” (yes, my friend)

Gulping, you do your best not to curl in on yourself, to not shy away from what you’re certain isn’t the truth. You were not a tribute for this man, you’re simply here to fill his cup. Surely there is another he could want, any woman aside from you. Why would he want you? You’re probably just here for him to make a show, to boast about how many women he can have on his chair. But if that were true, then why did he get rid of that other woman and replace her with you? Why not keep the both of you? 

Amidst your rambling thoughts, you feel the prod of Pero’s pointer finger, placing itself just below your chin. Slowly, he turns your head, forcing you to look at him. And then, his gravely, baritone voice speaks. 

“Have you been claimed, dulzura?” (sweet girl) 

You’d always assumed that a man would want a woman with experience, someone who could guarantee pleasure for them. But what you didn’t know was that Pero wasn’t like these other men. He liked his women to be virgins. He wanted to be the first one inside them, the first to show them what it felt like to be taken by a man. Pero wanted to hear what they’d sound like while being touched for the first time, touched by his hands, his fingers, his mouth, his cock. They always made the most beautiful noises, always sang the most eloquent songs. And for some reason, Pero could just tell, he just fucking knew no one had ever laid a single finger on you. You’re too shy to have been fucked, properly at least. And while there have been times where Pero has been offered multiple virgins at once, he’d denied this, too. He didn’t need multiple women to indulge in, he just needed one woman who was willing to do whatever he asked of them. 

“N-No…” It’s a quiet response, your eyes wide and innocent as his finger stays beneath your chin. 

Happily, the warrior chuckles, immediately pulling you into his lap. Your gasp this time is loud, causing a number of heads to turn in your direction. But you don’t have enough time to count them before Pero’s broad hand is on your face, turning you to look him in the eyes once again. 

“I will claim you tonight.” He’s leaning forward, towering over you and looking into your eyes with a passion you’ve never before seen directed at you. 

“Are… are you sure?” Finally, you find your voice, albeit slightly shaky. “You want m-me?”

“Hermosa…” He grins, thumb swiping across your cheek. You feel like a small child being coddled in his lap, the way you’re sitting, laying across the tops of his broad thighs. “I want you.” (beautiful)

Shuddering at the sudden arousal shooting through your body, you nod, almost whimpering beneath his passionate gaze. 

“What, um… what does that mean?” 

Again he grins. “Beautiful.” 

It seems that the other women don’t quite understand his message. He’s chosen the woman he wants for the night, and still, they continue touching him. The woman standing behind his chair slides both palms down the front of his chest, feeling her own brew of jealousy. And the woman to his right feels the same, looping her arm around his bicep to hold him tight. They want his attention again. 

“Enough.” He almost angrily declares, looking to his side. “No more of this.” 

While they’re unable to protest, they certainly want to. They’re shocked and honestly angered by his choice. It’s his first night back, how could he reject them like that? Every soldier in here would sacrifice themselves for the chance to lay in bed with more than one whore, and he’s pushing them away like they’re nothing? And for you? 

“Are you hungry, sweet girl?” Pero can tell you’re kind. “Have you eaten?” 

His question surprises you, so much so that you’re practically unable to form words. No one ever asks you this. The only time you’re given food is when you’re tossed the occasional basket of leftovers from the tavern, but nothing more than that. 

“I, well I, I will eat later tonight. I should, anyway…”

“No.” Comes his instant response. “You will eat now.” 

Those strong hands fall to your hips, moving your body so you’re now sitting up on his lap. He urges you to lean back against him, and you do, crossing your legs and draping them across his knee. 

“Have you had wine, princessa?” He asks, pulse hammering in his veins. He wants to know just how untouched you truly are. (princess)

You shake your head no, following your response with a small correction. “I’m no prin-”

“Tonight,” He interrupts, looking deeply into your eyes. “You are.” 

Adrenaline fizzles inside your veins as he lifts his cup to your face, a small request of drink drifting from his lips. While keeping his gaze, you allow the liquid to flow into your mouth and oh, he likes that. 

“Perfecto…” It’s hushed, said as if he is in a state of amazement. He has successfully delivered a new experience to you, one of many to come. (perfect)

He goes on to offer you the food from his plate, plucking grapes from the vine before popping them into your mouth. And he continues to feed you, holding you with his free arm while watching you take every bite. 

“You must be hungry too, my lord.” In a bold move, at least for you, you place a hand on his armored chest. And he hums at this; you’re getting more comfortable with him. 

“Sí, pequeña.” And when you look at him questioningly, he chuckles. “Yes.” (yes, little one) 

“Will you… can I…” 

He just grins. “The meat first, princessa.” (princess)

Although you’d been fed fruit, cheese, and bread, Pero’s plate remains more than halfway full. You stick his fork into a slice of meat, offering it to him. There’s something so intimate about this, about caring for the other in this way; you’ve never been cared for like this. And he keeps eye contact the entire time, his beautifully full lips taking the food from your delicate fingertips. And when he drinks from the mug you bring to him, you watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows it down, a small trickle of the wine flowing from the corner of his mouth. And the longer this goes on, the more ravenous he seems to become. He requests his plate be filled twice more and then a third, replenishing both of your bellies as the night grows late. 

“The mead, now.” He requests, breathing heavily against you. 

His eyes lower, gawking at the swell of your breasts as they rise and fall with vigor. You’re enjoying this, too. 

To complete this request you must step off his lap, bending over the table to reach the pitcher and bring it back to his now empty cup. Pero has yet to touch you since you’ve been resting on him, but now, he reaches out, smoothing a hand over your lower back. It sends tingle through your spine, washing every inch of your skin in an incredible sensation that leaves a shiver in its path. He smiles when he sees it. 

“I like the way you dress…” He murmurs, pressing his curved nose to your cheek when you sit back down. And you’re smiling now. 

“Every maid is dressed like this.” You giggle in response, watching the brown liquid flow into his cup. 

Again, that broad hand finds your face, turning you to look into his eyes. 

“I like the way it looks on you.” He very clearly states, his words making your chest squeeze tight. You’re flattered, incredibly so. 

Pero’s eyes dip down to your lips when your tongue pokes out to lick them, and you notice this quite obviously. Quickly, they flicker from your own precious orbs back to the pillowy softness of your mouth, a hand rising to the back of your neck as he begins to lean in. Your own hand returns to his chest, allowing him to guide you forward to meet him. And once you do, a firework is set off inside you. It’s the first time a man has kissed you, and for it to be him? How lucky are you…

“Pero,” you gasp when he surges forward for more, the first kiss sweet but the ones afterwards quickly becoming heated. 

But he doesn’t let you speak, he just pulls you into him again, holding you against him. Your first true, sexual moan floats out of your throat and directly into his, a wetness pooling between your legs when you feel the beginnings of his tongue sliding in. The hand you’d timidly placed on his chest rises to his face, cupping his jaw while he kisses you breathless. He tastes of the meat and wine he’d been devouring all night, but you don’t mind. You find yourself liking it, actually. 

This is what he wanted, this is the excitement he’s fucking needed. He can tell by your reaction that a man has never handled you this way, never pulled you into him to claim your lips with his. And he does so beautifully, gracefully, slipping the wet muscle of his tongue inside and swiping it across your own. And your moan, that girlish, wanton moan, finally makes you realize just how aroused he truly is, the feminine noise provoking a hardness to rise from his lap. 

“Pero,” You say again, breathing harshly against him. And this time, he lets you speak, allows you to breathe. 

“What is it, preciosidad?” He nearly begs, ducking his head down to your neck. (precious girl)

Suddenly, you realize just how public the space you’re in is, and you feel flush all over again. Biting your lip, you do your best to suppress your moans, but he notices. And he isn't a fan of it. Reaching up, he tugs your bottom lip out from the hold of your teeth. 

“Do not hide it from me.” He demands darkly. But he sees your sideways glance, knowing that you’ve now become nervous in your current setting. “Let them hear.” He nearly growls into your ear. “By the end of this night, you will belong to me.” 

This gasp is much louder, feeling him bite down on your earlobe with his teeth. And then he returns to your neck, his talented lips dragging over your skin. His ardent passion makes you giggle, the brazenness of it all forcing your excitement to new heights. 

“I want to indulge in you, hermosa.” He whispers gruffly to you, both hands holding you tight. One moves down to your thigh, squeezing the sweet flesh of it harshly. “I will see if you are as sweet as the wine you have served me.” (beautiful) 

But then, he hears a small rumble in your belly. Truth be told, this was the first time you’d been fed in days. And upon hearing the sound, he lifts himself from your neck. 

“You are still hungry?” There’s a hint of worry in his eyes when he asks. But you don’t want to be a burden. 

“No. No, I am fine.” But he sees right through you. 

“Have more bread, you tiny thing.” He then insists, reaching out for more before bringing it to you. And how can you resist? “Have you had mead, sweetling?” 

While chewing the bread, you shake your head. “You will try it with me.” But after filling his cup, he doesn’t bring it to your mouth. Instead, he takes a swig himself.

“I want you to first taste it from my lips.” It comes out breathily, his hand falling to your cheek to bring you into him once again. And you let him. 

The taste is bitter, yet overwhelmingly sweet. Regardless, you open your mouth to him once you’ve swallowed your bread, sighing out a romantic breath as his tongue claims dominance over yours once again. 

Absentmindedly, you wonder if you’ll be scolded in the morrow. After all, you’ve neglected your duties, having completely left your station. While the man of the hour is able to protect you from any repercussions tonight, what will happen to you when daybreak hits and it’s only you once again? But you shouldn’t worry about such things. It’s like Pero said, worrying is for the wretched. 

“Drink.” He demands again, wanting your belly to be as full as his. 

He brings his cup to you, and although the mead wasn’t to your taste, you drink, just because he said. All too quickly, you find yourself gulping the alcoholic nectar down, feeling it buzz through your system as the celebration continues. And he’s becoming far too feral, leaning in as soon as he sees a dribble of mead spill from your lips. Sloppily, he lays his tongue out over your jaw, licking over your cheek and up to your mouth. 

“Pero…” Comes your girlish sigh, still unable to believe he’s chosen you. 

“Tovar has found his precious flower.” One of the men jokes off to the side, another one quickly chiming in. “Flower? What happened to that beautiful garden?” 

You expect Pero to continue obsessing over you, but to your surprise, he speaks up. “I am this village’s hero, you all owe me your life.” Breathing heavily, he gives you one last kiss before pulling away. Looking into your eyes, he loudly says, “I have the money to buy every woman this town has to offer, but none of them…”

Lifting his hand, he grabs your angelic face once again. You smirk as he pinches your cheeks with his fingers and thumb, his palm resting directly below your jaw. And then he gives you a little shake, grinning widely while proclaiming, “None of them are as good as this one.” 

And it’s true. He’s never had a reaction like this with another woman before, virgin or not. He’s never obsessed over a woman like this in public, not while surrounded by so many people. Pero was a private lover. But the atmosphere adds something quite special to the mix. And besides, you yourself are quite the special thing, too. He’s had whores react to him this way before, but… not a virgin, not a woman with a pureness like you. 

Since pulling you into his lap, Pero thought about bringing you back to his lodge. He’d been gifted a lovely cabin to stay in as a permanent residence, one that will do quite nicely for him. It will even accommodate a family, if he so chooses to have it. 

“Ser?” Lucia walks up to the head table, offering him a large plate of hot desserts.

Smiling, he pushes his dinner plate aside, making room for the dishes. She eyes you as she sets them down, taking each one of the serving plates and presenting them to Pero. Before turning away, she gives you a wink, a small gesture that makes you remember just how lucky you are. As if you needed to be reminded. 

“What do you like?” Pero turns to ask you before he’s even had a bite. “Tell me what you want.” He whispers it against your cheek, making your smile pull even wider. 

“The um…” Scanning the table, you come across your favorite dessert. “The custard, the caramel one.” 

Immediately, he reaches out, scooping a spoonful of the delicacy up and bringing it to your lips. Happily, you open your mouth, watching as he then feeds himself from the same spoon. Custards of other flavors are served, too, along with puddings, tarts, and marzipan cakes. And he indulges in them all, with you right at his side. 

Servants gather the coins that have been offered to him by townspeople giving thanks, collecting them so they may be stored in his new home. And then you wonder, where is his new home? Surely he has been gifted a great lodge. Will he bring you to it?

“Arthur,” Your hero suddenly calls, “Ready the horses.”

A servant to his right steps forward, nodding before scurrying off and out through the doors. You’ve all but finished your food, having stuffed yourself like never before. And you wonder, what will he think of you like this? When he undresses you? You were nervous before but, now with your stomach full of food, you’ll appear even bigger than the other girls. 

Abruptly pulling you from your thoughts is Pero’s large hand, landing on your face once again. He pulls you into him, digging the tip of his nose into your cheek as he grunts. 

“Do you want me, hermosa?” He grits out passionately, digging his fingers into your cheeks. (beautiful) 

He’s drunk by now, and more than ready to take you home. All you can do is whine and nod, his grip not allowing you any other option. He growls, diving in to mouth at your lips. You moan into him, the sound making him happier than ever. Your hand rises to his neck, curling around to card through his unruly hair. 

“I will claim you tonight.” He breathes out, his voice rough and energetic. “You will be mine.”

“Pero,” Comes your high whine, pathetic in nature. “Please…”

“You want me to?” He smiles brightly against you. “You want me to ruin you? Ruin you of your innocence? Your purity?”

“Yes.” It’s instantaneous, your response, and it makes him all but lose his goddamn mind. 

The celebration will last for days, this is only the first night. So, his exit is discrete, standing and taking you by the wrist as he leads you away. Excitement stirs in your belly as he does it, bringing you out into the coldness of the night. It’s snowing out, the flakes decorating your eyelashes and hair. He smiles at the sight, leaning down to sweep you off of your feet and into his arms.

“Are you cold, sweetling?”

“Yes.” You nod simply, reaching out for his face, fingertips stroking his facial hair. 

“Come then,” he coos to you. “Come with me.”

It’s not like you’d actually say no, and you’re already in his arms anyways. And if you thought he was strong when he pulled you up onto his chair, it’s nothing compared to now. He picked you up as if you were a single feather floating in the wind, his movement easy and almost careless. But he cares; you’re a fragile thing. 

The servant dubbed Arthur stands beside the carriage clearly waiting for him, and it is a grand one indeed. Decorated in firm, dark oak and glimmering gold adornments, led by four horses, each colored as black as night. It’s an enchanting form, and your breath is fully taken away once the door to it is opened.

Stepping inside, Pero sets you down on a bench opposite the one he takes. And when you sit up to take it all in, you grin. This is the fanciest space you’ve ever been in. Candles hang from the ceiling, each lit inside a glass ball to protect them. The benches are decorated in rich velvet, the color matching that of the horses. There are gold embeds in each cushion with pillows all along it. In the very center of the space is a rug leading to the carriage’s door, with a window on either side of it. 

“This is… amazing.” Pero chuckles; he thought so when he first saw it, too. 

“Come,” He calls softly for you. “Sit beside me, princessa.” (princess)

And you do as you’re told, returning to his lap and leaning into his firm body. Those wandering hands return with much more excitement now, his fingers grazing the hemline along your bust. 

“What is your name, hermosa?” He questions quietly, kissing along your neck. “What should I call you, hm?” (beautiful) 

Internally, you feel subconscious about him grabbing your sides, feeling overly full at this point. But he doesn’t seem to mind, in fact, he reaches around to grab your belly and hips, a smile growing on his face. And when you tell him your name, it only makes that smile grow. 

“Pretty name,” He mumbles, one hand trailing down to the space between your legs. “For a pretty girl.” 

“Hm…”

“Tell me,” Pero then says, cupping your clothed sex. It makes you gasp, the sensation of it. “What do you think of me?”

He knows you're excited, but he knows you’re nervous too. And he wants to make sure you want this, want him, want what he’s about to do to you. 

“I think you’re…” Your words fall short when he begins to rub you. It feels electric, like a zap of lightning shooting through you. Your smaller body presses back against him, feeling a small hum vibrate through his chest. “So handsome.” You eventually finish, releasing a tight sigh.

“You do?” Pero leans in, kissing the shell of your ear. “Tell me more.”

You hadn’t even noticed it, but you’re moving. The carriage had taken off just as Pero began to touch you, his hands an easy distraction. You’re not sure how long it’s been since the carriage left your tavern, but your town isn’t big. You’ll be arriving at his cabin shortly. 

When you don’t immediately go on, his grip on you tightens, a heated breath forcing its way out of Pero’s nose.

“I said more, hermosa. Will you do what I ask of you tonight? Hm?” His words come out stern and you feel an incredible need to please him. (beautiful)

“Yes, I will. I promise, Pero.” Even though your mind betrays you, this is real. And while you have him, you want to make the most of it. “You’re so handsome, so charming. The girls and I, we… don’t know much about you.”

Subconsciously, your hips wiggle into his hand, seeking more pressure from his touch. He chuckles. “It feels good, no?”

Mesmerized, you look down at his hand, your cheeks burning with shame. “Yes…”

Pero’s free hand then rises to your chest, finally fondling your breasts. He grabs one in hand, groaning when you gasp in shock. Pleasure spikes in your nipples when his thumb brushes across one, and you can’t even imagine how wonderful it will feel when the barrier of fabric will no longer hide your body from him.

“We are nearly there, little one.” His breaths are surprisingly calm, his words calculated. “Tell me this one thing, before we arrive.” 

“Yes?” You return, intent on pleasing him. 

“Do you want more of me when we are inside?”

His question makes you gulp. Of course you do, of course you do. But you’ve never done this before and you don’t know how to say it, you don’t know how to be sexy when you talk to him. So all you reply with is, “I… I do.”

He isn’t happy with your simple answer, so he prods for more. Looking out the window, he can see the cabin nearing. 

“What do you want then, hm? My hands?” Slowly, he rubs your covered core, feeling the muscles in your thighs shake. “My fingers, hermosa?” (beautiful)

“Yes,” This time, you respond much quicker, even nodding your head. 

“My body?” He continues on, stiffening below your backside. 

“Oh, yes…” Sighing, you can only imagine what he feels like. Hopefully, you’ll soon know.

“My mouth?” This time, he inhales deeply. It’s been years since he’s tasted a woman between her thighs. But you don’t necessarily interpret it that way. You assume he means he’ll kiss you more, and of course you want that.

“Yes, Pero.” He likes how sweetly you say it; he knows you’ll be saying it more. 

Inside, he shivers. He’s about to say something much more brazen to you. 

“Do you want my cock, sweetling?” And this seems to overwhelm him with an intense urge. Upon your sigh he inhales another breath, groaning it out into your ear as he says, “Do you want it inside you, hermosa? Do you want me inside?” (beautiful)

“Yes,” You practically keen for him, feeling him rub his erection into you from behind. “Yes Pero, please.”

As if on command, the carriage comes to a halt, stopping just outside the warrior’s new home. Eagerly, he stands, picking you up with him. Again, Arthur opens the door, and if he hadn’t come so quick you’re sure Pero would have kicked it open himself. 

Bright flames burn inside you as he carries you to the cabin’s door, and you loop your arms around his neck while he walks, leaning up to kiss his tawny skin. He’s tanned, his skin a beautiful golden tone. It looks glorious on him, this rich shade. 

Once his servant opens the door, Pero marches inside, kicking it shut behind him. And in the throes of your passion, you look up, wanting to see the space around you. Pero’s only been inside once, right before he came to the tavern tonight. Floor to ceiling, everything is either covered in dark oak or rich, reddened velvet. There are gold decorations here and there with lavish furniture in every single room. It blows your mind, the excellence of these rooms. He must have done something truly admirable to be honored with such a space. 

Chandeliers hang from the ceiling as Pero walks throughout the space, taking you directly to the main bedroom. There are beautiful curtains made of thick fabric hanging by the windows too, along with candles that have been lit in every room. But none of it compares to the intimate space he calls his own, the space he’s going to share with you. 

“You are beautiful.” He expresses while laying you down on his extravagant bedspread. Leaning in, he smiles, kissing the space just below your jaw. “I’m delighted to have you.”

“Pero,” Helplessly, you reach out for him when he lifts himself to move away. 

This makes him smirk, chuckling while he begins to undress. And when he does, you quiet down, leaning back on your forearms to watch. He notices this, making a little show of it. His movements are languid, removing his gleaming armor and placing it on a nearby bench. He stands at the foot of the bed as he does it, undressing down to his undershirt and briefs. And your heart stutters in its beat; you’ve never seen a man this way before. Should… should you be undressing yourself, too?

“No,” He answers your silent question, seeing your hands curl around to the ties on your back. “I will undress you, pequeña. Do not lift a finger; let me.” (little one)

Lifting his shirt from his body, you’re met with the incredibly erotic sight of his naked chest. Tanned like the rest of him and adorning a few hairs across his chest. There are some curls leading down his navel, too, and among the hair on his glorious body are also scars. They’re scattered across his body, some long, some short, some wide and others thin. But they astound you all the same. When he steps closer, you reach out to him, immediately brushing your palm across the once-then wounds that have healed yet still remain. 

“And what do you think?” He asks, brushing back some of your hair. His palm lands on the top of your head, his own dropping to watch as you explore.

“Beautiful.” Comes your whispered response, “It’s beautiful… your body…” 

“Then touch more of it.” Forcefully, he grabs your other hand, pulling it closer to him. 

“Oh…” He brings your palm to cup him through his slacks, his head dropping back as he does. Even from the slightest of stimulation, he moans. 

He wants to take his cock out, pull it from the confines of his briefs and make you lick the tip. But he wants you to be the one to do it. He knows you want him, but you’re far too shy to show it. But you’ll need to if he’s going to give you it. Apparently though, you have something else in mind. 

“Will you lay down?” Pero tilts his head at you questioningly. Rising to your knees, you look into his eyes, smoothing your hands down the tight skin of his chest. “Will you lay down for me? Let me worship you like you should be…” 

Pleasantly surprised, he does as you ask, moving to the side and laying down in the very center of the bed. Your passion seems to unravel within you, finally seeing him like this. And it makes you courageous, makes you want to do more with him. 

“Touch me, princessa.” Pero grits out impatiently, watching your innocent orbs flicker up to stare directly into his eyes. “Do you want it?” You nod immediately, swallowing timidly. “Then take it.” (princess)

With your heart thundering inside your chest, you look down, reaching out to grab the waistline of his briefs. He pets your hair lovingly with his dominant hand as you begin to pull, releasing a shaky breath as you do. And he lifts his hips for you, allowing you to undress him completely before you. 

“Yes…”

You don’t expect his erection to bob out of his pants like it does, smacking his lower stomach and making him groan. It makes you gasp slightly, lips parting in devastating hunger as you stare at him. 

“Is this the first time you’ve seen one?” He asks gruffly, reaching down to grab his shaft. “A leaking cock before you?”

And he’s right, he is leaking. He’s uncut and thick, long, too. When he strokes himself he pulls back the skin, revealing his reddened tip. When you see it you whine, exhaling a short and almost pouty breath. 

“You don’t have to sit back, you know.” He teases, watching your enticed expression. “Tonight, this is for you.”

“Pero…” Overwhelmed with emotion you lean forward, placing your hands on either side of his hips. 

Pero watches you dive down to his pelvis, lips landing on the thin skin of his hips. You kiss him here, sloppily too, dragging your beautiful lips along his sides briefly before moving them to his stomach. He’s so toned and warm, your tongue poking out to just barely slide over the bumped-up lines of his scars. You hope he likes it - you know he does. He groans while watching you, licking his lower lip before it drops. 

Your delicate fingers trail over his sides, squeezing his hips and thighs. Soft whimpers escape your lips as you do it, feeling compelled to worship the alluring warrior that saved your home. Grinning, he watches you obsess over him, working yourself up to the point of grinding against his leg. You position yourself over his left thigh, just barely grinding down against him. You feel foolish doing it, like an animal in heat, but you almost can’t help it. How? How did you manage to get your first time to be with him? 

But when you move down to his groin, you’re unsure of what to do next. You’re hoping he’ll guide you, teach you the ways of pleasing a man. He asked for a virgin, surely he would expect to do this? 

“Do you know what to do with it?” He asks lowly from above you. He still has a hand wrapped around his base, his tip throbbing with anticipation as your lips kiss nearly every inch of him. 

“N-No…”

“Hermosa,” Pero leans up, taking your chin between his forefinger and thumb. “Do not be nervous, or shy; not around me.” (beautiful) 

This time, he doesn’t force you to look into his eyes, he waits for you to do it on your own. And you do so much quicker this time, a reassuring thing to him. 

“Niña preciosa, you are mine tonight.” He promises once again. “I will make you a woman; do you understand?” (precious girl)

“I do.”

“And will you let me teach you?”

“Yes, Pero…” Your reply is soft, feminine, your hands trailing up his stomach. 

His words make you feel safe and warm inside, they make you trust him that much more. And with that said and done, he brings you in for a kiss, grinning against you. 

“Bueno.” He states, those dark brown eyes opening to look at you. Taking a breath, he then speaks. “Go back down, sweetling.” (good)

You do as he tells you, lowering yourself to his naked sex once again. This time, you get an even better look. You’re much closer than before, settling yourself between his thighs and placing your hands on his hips. 

“Open that pretty mouth,” He says it as he sighs, settling further on his luxurious bed. 

Reaching down, he places his thumb on your lower lip, smirking when you open your mouth for him. 

“That’s it…” Pero whispers to you, the moment as fragile as glass; it’s as if any moment, it could break. 

Both of those broad hands now move to your face, holding your cheeks and bringing you closer to him. With a shaky breath, you move in, whining when the tip hits your lip. He slides in past your bottom lip, now coming in contact with your soft tongue. And when he does, a moan floats from your mouth. 

“Do you taste it?” He asks, a growl rumbling through his chest. “Can you see the mess you’ve made of me?”

“Me?” You babble quietly around his smooth head, and he groans at the sensation. 

“Yes, preciosa - precious girl.” He begins to ramble. “More, give me more. Yes…” 

Staring up at the warrior laid out on this bed, you allow him to pull you closer to his sex. Moving forward, your lips surround his head, now fully in the velvety warmth of your no longer innocent mouth. 

“Suck,” He gasps from above you. “Suck it.” 

And you do, watching as his chest constricts before he moans. Gently, his hips buck up a bit, shoving another inch past your lips. 

“More, pequeña, more…” (little one)

Gods, he’s reveling in this, destroying the purity you once had. His precum pools in your mouth, the saltiness of it landing on your tongue. He can feel the wet muscle move beneath him in the humid cavern of your mouth, slowly but surely sucking more of him inside. But you gag when you’re halfway down, making him groan in frustration. But not with you, with how aroused he’s become. 

“More,” Pero repeats once again. He applies pressure to the back of your head, forcing you down on him. “You can do more… do it again…”

You’ve never had a man in your mouth before, and doing so now makes your panties pool with wetness. It’s incredibly defiling, erotic, something you find yourself wanting more of. And to him, it practically feels like the first time all over again. He hasn’t touched or been touched in nearly an entire year. He’s needed this. 

“Oh,” Pero sighs, lifting his head to watch as you pull away. Situating a pillow to prop his head up, he groans, eyeing the trail of spit you left behind. 

You’d gagged on him again, a wet, sporadic noise that made you pull away. Though not too far; you’re still close enough for him to reach. You’re honestly mortified, you want to please him and you’re now finding out that you can’t. You’ve never seen another man’s cock, but you’d have to be a fool to not realize that Pero was big. Bigger than you expected a man to be. But you’re not stopping here, you want to do more for him. 

He’s still holding his base when you lean in, laying your entire tongue out beneath him. And his brows furrow furiously, mouth falling agape as he watches you lick him. This is something he wasn’t expecting from you, not at all. 

The salty musk of him fills your senses, both your taste and smell. And when you take him back in your mouth again, he removes his hand, returning it to your head. Your own hand replaces his, gripping his base and watching his balls draw up slightly. Pero’s jaw remains dropped, watching as you work him with your hand and mouth. 

“Amor…” Again, a hand finds its way to the back of your head, urging you down to his base. And you go much further this time, suppressing the reflex to gag. “Sí, sí bonita, sí.” (Love… yes, yes pretty, yes)

The suction of your throat around him makes him choke, moaning wantonly from the sensation. And your hand continues to grip him, tightening your fingers around the thickness of his erection. While doing so, you happen to look up, immediately meeting his dark eyes. 

“So good,” He mutters, only to speak louder to you. “You’re doing so good…” 

“Thank you, Pero.” You remove yourself, gasping above him. And while looking down, you see more of the clear liquid pearl out. “I like the taste of it…”

Before he can say anything else, you dive back down, lapping at the liquid. A feral noise is released from his throat, his hips bucking up into your mouth. You engulf him once more, but it’s not long before he removes himself from your throat. Pulling on your hair, he yanks you off of him, hearing your surprised gasp. 

“What did I, did I… did I do something wrong?”

Surging forward, Pero grabs your face with his hand, holding your cheek and jaw as he leans in. 

“Dulzura,” He growls to you, resting his forehead against your own. You’re leaning forward, resting on your palms as soon as he brought you in. “You’re filthy now. You’re going to make me cum.” Eyes dropping down, he swipes his thumb across the pillowy-soft skin of your lower lip. “And I’m going to; right in this pretty mouth.” (sweet girl)

You’re still gasping for air, and fully dressed, mind you. Right now, any and all pleasure revolves around him. And you’re not complaining one single bit. 

His eyes then return to yours, staring right into your fucking soul. “And you’re going to swallow it down, pequeña. Every bit of it.” (little one)

When you don’t respond, he grunts out, “Do you understand?”

“Yes, Pero.”

“Oh…” he grips your jaw harder, baring his teeth briefly before he says, “I love when you say that.” 

And he really does. You’re just so compliant for him. 

“Do you want me to say it more?” You ask sweetly, almost teasingly, and it makes him tilt his head curiously at you. 

“Quite the little minx, aren’t you?” He slowly grins, pulling you in sharply by his grip on your jaw. “I will make you say it more. I will make you beg for more.”

His response makes you whine; how much more could you want this man? 

“Get on your knees for me.” Your warrior then demands. “I want you to taste it.” 

“Taste it?”

“My seed, sweetling, the seed that will soon fill your belly.” And then he kisses you, a harsh and fiery embrace, removing his lips only to say, “Get on your knees.” 

The pulse pounding in your veins seems to stutter a beat when he says this, the imagery of him being inside of you almost too much to bear for your inexperienced mind. Regardless, you return to your knees for him, willingly, eagerly, wrapping your lips around his tip and beginning all over again. Well, not all over again. He’s still hard for you, still aching to be touched to completion. 

“Like that, little thing,” Comes his punched-out grunt, feeling you take him into your mouth much quicker than before. “So eager for me, aren’t you?” He boasts from above, smiling. “So eager for more…” 

Inside your mouth, he pulses against your tongue, his shaft wet and slippery from your spit. You allow it to spill from your lips, drooling over his cock and onto his pelvis. And Pero’s hands return, aiding in the smooth slide of your head as you move up and down on him. Your insides burn with desire, your hips and sex tingling with anticipation. How will it feel when he finally touches you? When he’s inside you? Will he be gentle, or rough? He certainly has the muscles to do whatever he wants, to fuck you into the matress until you’re crying out from it, from him. 

“P-Princesa, do not move.” He begs breathily further up on the bed, his eyes pinching shut as his hips begin to move. (princess)

Forcefully they thrust upwards into your mouth, punching himself down your throat. You gag around him so intensely that you go to move back from him, but his hands keep you down. 

“Stay still, princessa; breathe. Breathe for me.” (princess)

He’s selfish with it, helplessly indulging in his pleasure. His pure instincts are truly gluttonous, seeking everything for himself without concern for others. But he does his best to think about you, to treat you kindly, gently. But not now, not in this moment. He feels his release coming, and he knows where he wants it to be. 

Breathing in through your nose helps to stabilize you, but just as you do, you’re thrown through another loop. Suddenly, a hot rush of liquid fills your mouth, shooting past your lips and begging to slide down your throat. His hips are jerking erratically against you, the strength of his arms allowing you little to no movement and therefore offering no other option than to swallow him. Closing your eyes with a short groan, you do, coaxing the thickness of it down your throat. It’s salty, much saltier than the droplets that slipped from his tip before. He’s pulsing profoundly inside you, throbbing against your tongue as rope after rope is released into your throat. And the sound he makes is sinful to say the least, an incredibly raw and powerful groan forcing itself from his throat. 

Pero can feel your nails digging into his thighs, can feel the soft swallowing sounds as you coax him down. Your nose is nearly touching his base, the curly hairs scattering his pelvis just barely brushing your face. And it makes him grin, the crudity of it, having a virgin suck his cock like this. He’s defiled you, yet again; and he can’t wait to do a thousand more unspeakable things to you all over again. Because tonight, you are for him. 

“Ugh,” He groans loudly, the muscles in his glorious body flexing. 

The remaining remnants of his seed wash over your tongue, trickling out to follow the rest of them down. When the pressure on the back of your head ceases, you immediately release yourself, lifting your mouth off of him. You cough from it, swallowing again as you can still taste him. 

“It was overwhelming,” He sits up, his presence pushing you back a bit. “I know.” Pero’s hand finds your cheek, storking it softly. Your face is flush, your hair slightly a mess, and you look so pretty to him like this. “And you did so well.” He leans in to kiss your cheek, your neck, pushing you further back. “It was perfect, mi niña…” (my girl)

In one swift motion he’s turning and shoving you down onto the bed. You land with a huff, his kind words an incredible distraction to you. His body immediately covers yours, his hands sliding between you and the sheets to grab at your ass. He presses himself into you, mouthing hotly at your neck as he truly begins to give in. 

“You did so well, bonita, you know that, don’t you?” He’s leaving marks on you, little bites of painful pleasure all over your throat. (pretty) 

“Oh…” It’s a small moan, one released with a smile. 

Your body wiggles excitedly beneath him, his praise making your confidence bloom brilliantly inside. Before you even realize what he’s doing, his hand is removing itself from your backside and sliding down your front. 

“Let me see,” He mumbles against you. “Let me see the beauty of you.” 

Pero’s words make you nervous all over again. Your confidence shrinks just the slightest bit as he travels down your body, untying your small shoes before tugging your stockings off of your legs. Sliding his fingers beneath your dress, he hooks them around your panties to pull them off. 

“Mm, Pero…” You whine, feeling his knuckles just barely brush your sex. 

“What is it, cariño?” He asks you sweetly, though he doesn’t stop his movements nor does he look up at you. He does kiss your calf though, his lips soft and tender against you. (baby)

“Oh…” 

“You’re dripping…” He moans, eyeing the panties he’d just removed from you. Immediately, his hand returns to your still-hidden space, fingers brushing against your naked folds.

“Oh!”

It’s a brief touch though, retracting his hand before you can even experience much. But what he does once he removes his fingers from you… that’s what really gets you. 

“Pero,” You release an astonished gasp, eyes widening as you watch him lick the taste of you. 

It’s a simple swipe, running his tongue along the thick digits he’d used to touch you. You’d never seen a man do this, never even heard of men doing this. And Pero didn’t do this with every woman, not unless they were a virgin. He’d had sex with whores before sure, but licking the intmate space between their thighs? He reserved that for the most innocent women he could find. 

“Sh… you delicate thing.” He murmurs to you, looking deeply into your kind, sweet eyes. “Let me please you, let me see you…” And then his hands are urging you up, fingers quickly fumbling with the strings of your ties. 

He undoes them expertly, easily, watching it fall from your form. He doesn’t even drag it away before he’s gawking at you, at the sight of your naked tits. His eyes widen, the look on his face an entirely new expression. He almost goes soft, sweet, just from staring at you. Leaning in, he says, “Asombrosa…” (amazing…) 

“Pero…” While watching him cup you with both hands, you whine. 

You’re thankful he keeps your dress partly on; it covers most of your stomach. But those grateful thoughts disappear as soon as his hands drop, tugging your remaining clothing away from your body.

“P-Pero, I…” You stutter, hands moving to cover your body. 

As he drops your dress to the floor, he looks at you questioningly. He furrows his brows, but not angrily, curiously, almost worried. 

“What is it, pequeña?” He asks, moving closer to you, his voice quiet and soft. “Have I made you uncomfortable, sweet thing?” Pero could often be selfish but with women, he did his best to keep their inner emotions in mind. (little one)

“No, no,” Not wanting to worry him, you shake your head. But your hands don’t move. “I just, I don’t want you to be… disappointed.”

“Disappointed?” He tilts his head at you. “How could I be?” Leaning in, he places a gentle kiss on your cheek, and it makes you grin. 

“I’m not, I don’t,” Giving up, you release an aggravated breath. “I don’t look like them.” And when you see his unknowing expression, you clarify for him. “The other women that surround you.” 

“No?” He questions, raising a brow. “And what do you look like?” 

“I’m… bigger.” 

“Better.” Comes his immediate response, shuffling closer to you. “More to grab, and bite.” He leans in, nipping at the skin along your collarbone. 

“Do you truly think so?” 

“Hermosa, why do you presume I chose you?” He questions, and it makes you think. “I told you I liked the way you dressed, the way it looked on you.” (beautiful)

Pero’s voice is low and tantalizing as he whispers into your ear, grinning when he kisses the shell of it. “I want you, hermosa.” He clarifies yet again. “How many times must I say it?” (beautiful)

“Pero…”

“Will you let me pleasure you, now?” He asks almost impatiently, but with a grin. He’s teasing. “Show you how true my words are to you?” 

Turning your head to face him, you mirror his delighted expression. Your hands rise to either side of his face, muttering a happy yes before your lips connect. 

Immediately after this, his hands fall to your own, removing them from your curvaceous body. Reading his body’s signals, you lay back for him, watching as he advances. When your head hits the pillow he all but dives in, cupping your breasts again and bringing his lips to them. He moans against you, kissing the soft skin of your chest. And pleasure shoots throughout your body, feeling him fondle you like this. His mouth is warm as it moves over you, mouthing at your boobs before biting them gently. He pushes them together, licking up the valley of your cleavage before sucking one of your nipples in.

“Oh…” Immediately, your hands rise to his face, cradling him as he begins to suckle on your nipple like a newborn babe. It’s erotic, the waves in your hips and lower stomach pulsing inside. “Pero, yes…”

He hums contentedly at your wording, removing his mouth to let his tongue lay out. He runs it across your nipple, over and over again, all while his hand works your other breast. He takes your unattended peak between his forefinger and thumb, tweaking it gently. It makes your fingers dig into his hair, makes your nails scrape softly across his scalp while you whine. 

To your surprise, Pero moves down your body, kissing your ribcage and stomach in the process. It makes you want to curl in on yourself until he shows you how truly glorious he finds the hills and valleys along your god-like form. He squeezes your breasts one last time before his hands too follow the path his mouth has made. And while continuing to surprise you, he then lands between your legs. Gently, he spreads them, closing his eyes and humming quietly as he works. He knows how to please a woman in more ways than one, and he’s excited to show you. 

“Pero, what, what are you…” Curious questions spill from your mouth as you lean up to look at him, wondering what he’ll do. But he doesn’t answer you. Instead, his eyes open, mouth dropping to lay his tongue out against you. You hiss in shock, almost as if you’d touched a surface that had been hot. Your legs twitch beside him, body tensing briefly from the foreign sensation. And he gives you an open-mouthed smile, sliding his tongue up the seam of your soon to be impure sex. 

“Oh…” 

“How does it feel?” He asks, quickly licking his lips. “To have a man's tongue on you?”

While awaiting your answer, he slides a finger into his mouth, keeping his look directed at you. And when you don’t answer he tuts at you, bringing that same digit down to your center. He slides it along your sensitive lips, smirking when you inhale a tight breath. 

“It felt… so new.” 

“Yes?” He asks, tilting his head. You nod, “Yes…” It’s said as he slides his finger into you; you’ve never even put your own fingers inside of you. 

“Oh,” It comes out dramatically once it’s entirely inside you, that cocky grin creeping across his face. 

“This feels good, too?” He asks almost innocently. But he knows what he’s doing to you.

“Yes.” Breathlessly, you nod, feeling him begin to pull it out before sliding it right back into you. “Oh!”

You weren’t expecting his mouth to return, but it does, his tongue flicking across the most sensitive part of your sex. 

“Mm…” The sound is muffled by your center as he presses his face into you. And when he does this, he becomes greedy, ravenous, wanting more of you. 

While he intended to start out slow, it’s not long before he’s shoving another finger into you and feeling the tight clutch of your walls around them. Gods, he knows he’s going to be such a stretch for you. And lord, you’re writhing for him, squirming on his bed while your hands grip his sheets. He has to lift a hand, pressing it onto your lower belly to keep you down for him. He’s punching them up into you, sloppily lapping at your tingly little bud as it shoots pleasure through you. Before long, you’re freeing the bedsheets of your sporadic grabs and replacing the comforter with his hair. Your fingers cling to him, shamelessly shoving him further into you. And he moans, dear god, the sensation absolutely rolling through you. 

It’s all so new, so new and incredibly ethereal to you. Do all men feel like this? Will all men treat you this way? 

“Pero,” It’s an incredibly passionate moan, floating freely from your lips as you sing a melodic song for him. “Pero…” 

“This will prepare you,” He then grunts out against you, his humid breaths fanning over your sensitive skin. “This will prepare your body for me. Such a tight, tight little thing.” 

“Pero, I want you.” 

“I know you do, precious thing.” He coos, smoothing his hand over you. He rubs the thin skin of your lower belly, a loving gesture while his mouth and fingers continue to wreck you. “Relax for me, pequeña. Let me feel it unravel within you…” (little one)

The taste of you is a weakness for him, your tangy essence dripping out onto his hand. You’re so wet for him, he’s almost unable to believe it. He can feel himself rising again, wanting to be inside you, to claim you, to ruin you. 

When Pero crooks his fingers inside you, pressing them up into an all too pleasurable spot, a sensation begins to overcome you; it’s something that almost feels weightless to you. For a moment, you become numb to it all, numb to the incredible pleasure that you’re feeling. Since the moment he’d slid a finger into you, you felt the gradual build of something entirely new, a sensation growing inside that almost frightens you. You can feel it coming, the intense wave washing over you. Ever so slightly, your body curls, your back then quickly arching. 

“I, oh… oh…” You’re not sure what to expect from the first high you’ve ever experienced, but this was more than anything you could have imagined. Your body practically vibrates from it, each limb tightening as your hips now move of their own accord. And Pero only continues, forcing his fingers up against that deliciously delicate spot inside you, all while keeping his lips and tongue pressed to your fluttering heat.

He presses you down, grunting as he brings this euphoria to you. And it flows freely through you, making you grin and giggle quietly as you experience it. A sharp gasp at first, but now a wonderful laugh, a weak one, followed by a chorus of elegant, erotic moans. 

“Beautiful thing,” Comes his hurried breaths, lips moving incessantly as he rambles over your slippery lips. “Doing just what I tell you to…” You really do listen so well. In the same breath he removes his fingers, using both hands to spread open your sex. 

“Yes, yes…” It’s all you can say, over and over again. Your insides feel as though you’re about to burst, the overt brazenness of it all making you lose your absolute mind. 

He leans in, licking into your entrance with small, delicate swipes. And to say you were surprised would be an understatement, though you’re learning to expect the unexpected tonight. He moans boyishly at the taste of your cum, lapping it up as though you were his favorite dessert at the feast less than an hour ago. You can’t believe how much he’s indulging in you tonight. 

Before you can even catch your breath, he’s crawling over you, returning his lips to your jawline and neck. He’s grinning, too. 

“Will you let me?” Leaning down, he gives your shoulder a small kiss while he asks you. He then runs his curved nose along your jawline, filling his nostrils with the smell of your pretty scent while he continues panting above you. “Will you let me take it, princessa?”(princess)

A heated wave washes over your face, your hands rising to his scruffy cheeks as he continues to kiss your body. He grinds himself into you, into the naked space between your legs. 

“Let me take it from you,” He coos, running his nose over the column of your neck. “Let me show you how good it feels.”

“Yes, please.” Gulping, you nod, fingers brushing over the short hairs littering his cheeks. “Take it Pero, take it from me.”

“Mm…” It’s a groan, a long and happy one as he smiles against your throat. 

Sloppy, open-mouthed kisses are placed along your neck, shoulder, and collar bone. You can feel his erection pulsing lightly against you, rubbing it over your inner thigh. And the realization of it all seems to hit you at once. 

“Will,” Your voice is quivering again. “Will it hurt?”

“Maybe,” He responds honestly, lifting himself to kiss your cheek. “But only for a moment, princessa.” (princess)

Pero knows how rough other men can be, and it sickens him. Women are beautiful creatures, things to be cherished. How could a man ever find pleasure from a woman in discomfort or pain? To him, seeing a woman fall victim to the pleasure he brings makes him thrilled inside. He gets off on it, seeing others happy and at peace with euphoria flowing through their body. 

“Do you still want me?” Pero then asks, reaching down to grab himself in hand. He watches your lips part with a small breath when he swipes the head through your folds, furrowing his brows as he takes in your reaction. You nod slowly. 

“Yes…” 

“Tell me honestly.” He prods further, releasing a short grunt when you press your hips upwards against him.

“Yes Pero,” Comes your breathy response, and this time, you grab his face to make him look into your eyes. “Take me.”

A heated breath forces its way past his lips, all but surging forward to connect your mouth with his. He kisses you until you see stars, moaning gently as you taste his spit and feel his plush lips. And while he distracts you with his mouth, he begins to slide in, a slow and gradual movement as you adjust to him. 

“P-Pero,”

“Sh…” He immediately responds, but it’s gentle. “I know, preciosa, I know…” (precious) 

“Oh,” Tossing your head back, you give in to him, taking in a large gulp of air as he continues forward. 

When he’s halfway in he removes his hand, lifting it to hold the back of your head. He hums against you, both of your eyes closed as he experiences you like this, while you experience him like this.

“Take it for me,” Pero whispers to you, pressing his lips to your ear. “Take it just like you did before.” 

His words prompt you to think back to your first act together, when he’d slid himself into your mouth. That was a struggle at first, but before long it was pleasurable, both of you fully enjoying it. And this is just the same. He’s a large stretch for you, a heavy intrusion, but the girthiness of him makes your tummy stir, makes your arousal begin to churn. 

“Will you do it again, princesa?” (princess)

“Y-Yes,” You say it as he bottoms out inside you, listening to the forceful hiss he exudes. 

“So good,” Comes his instant praise, letting himself rest against you, allowing your body to adjust to him. “Such a good little girl for me.”

“Hm…” You smile, pulsing around him. Gently, your fingers run through his hair, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “No one’s ever spoken to me that way.” 

“Only I will.” He declares instantly, “Only me.” And that’s when he starts to move.

Even though it’s a gentle slide, it makes you whine all the same. You smile breathlessly while clenching around him, feeling both of his broad hands make their way down to your ass. He grabs your cheeks harshly while he grinds into you, and the cry you elicit from it makes him choke out a groan. Pero’s heavy and humid breaths return, wetting your skin as he huffs out above you. 

“M-More,” You find the courage to whimper out. 

“More?” He asks incredulously, shocked by your request. 

“More.”

Lowering his head with a growl, he sucks one of your nipples into his mouth before picking up the pace he’s built for you. A shrill whine claws its way out of your chest upon feeling him do so, the steady rocking of his hips continuing with much more force now. He growls against you, the vibrations of it rumbling across your chest while he sucks on you. And his hands roam, too, sliding up from your ass to caress your body, fondle your boobs, feel every single inch of you. 

“Pero, Pero… Pero, ah!” Pressing your head back into the pillows, you cry out for him, genuinely surprised by how well you’re taking him. And he is, too. 

“This is what I’ve wanted,” He admits, “I’ve wanted you.” 

“Ngh,” It’s a harsh, guttural gasp, fingers digging into his dark locks. 

He licks your chest while he fucks you, growling as he becomes more and more pent up inside.

“Your gorgeous body,” He gasps out against you, kissing the plump curves of your chest. “It is mine now, you are mine now, princesa.” (princess)

“I know, Pero.” You exhale a breathy laugh, happy to finally admit it aloud. “I know.” 

He’s doing his best to be gentle while giving into his own needs, too, but in truth, this isn’t enough for him. He’s enjoying you thoroughly but he needs more of you, needs to do more to you. 

“Bonita, mi bonita niña.” He practically begs, removing himself from you. And you cry wantonly when he does, reaching out for him; you desperately crave his touch. “Turn around for me. Please, bebé.” (pretty, my pretty girl) (baby)

It’s almost as if you’re unable to do what he tells you, like your limbs have gone to jelly and your mind is somewhere else. Your body is his, entirely here for him. And it couldn’t be more thrilling to you. 

When he sees your struggle he grins, reaching down to grab your hips. Roughly, he flips you over onto your stomach, hauling your hips high into the air in front of him. 

“Tired girl,” He teases, “You don’t know what tired is, not yet.” It’s a challenge, one that intimidates you. 

Before you can respond in any way, he’s entering you, punching the breath from your lungs even though he does so gently. With a cry of his name, you crumble for him, laying on your forearms while he tightens his grip on your hips. He slides into you much easier this time, though the stretch is still a bit painful for you. But he moves quicker this time around, too, turning any feelings of pain into sweet, unyielding pleasure. 

The sounds that fill the room are the filthiest you’ve yet to hear in your lifetime, the sound of his skin slapping against yours, the wet squelch of your soiled sex, your erotic moans and his forecful grunts. It’s so much more than you ever even dreamed of, and you’ve dreamed of this for so long. 

“Yes…” He grits out, briefly baring his teeth. With one hand he reaches out, smoothing his palm over your back. It does well to calm you, to help you feel comfortable and secure. 

Your body rocks with every movement he makes, shoving you over and over again against the sheets. He’s hitting you so deep, delving into you so hard, it’s as if you can’t even breathe. Every inch of your insides are spasming around him and the act of it all is incredibly overstimulating, even more so when he reaches down you to grab your chest. He’s leaning over you, his firm and muscular torso pressing and rubbing against your back. His mouth returns, too, biting and sucking on the muscles and skin of your upper shoulder and neck. 

“Pero!” You wail, jaw dropping as he continues to hammer himself into you.

He’s grunting into your ear, breathing heavily against you. He’s finally fucking you as hard as he wants to, as hard as he’s wanted to fuck a woman since he’s been gone. 

“A little more,” He pants out from above you. “A little more, preciosa niña, and then I will care for you.” (precious girl)

You’re not sure what he means, and while his brute force is entirely overbearing, you wouldn’t dare ask him to speed up the process or stop. You want this to last; you don’t know if you’ll get this again. 

Pero’s hips jut harshly against you, the strength in his thighs propelling him forward again and again. The hand he isn’t using to lean on fondles you, grabbing your tits and pinching your nipples when he can. It makes the adrenaline and euphoria mix and fizzle inside you, your lungs desperate for air as your fingernails dig into his new sheets. 

“Y-es!”

He smiles when he hears your passionate groan, eyeing the way you clutch his sheets. But his smile is quickly replaced with a look of awe, a genuine expression as he groans forcefully. Pero’s muscles tense above you, his body curling into your own. He holds you tightly to his chest, allowing you to feel every one of his deep and erratic breaths. The movements of his hips become sharp and jagged, unlike the rhythm they’d originally began. 

“Pero…” 

“Stay still,” He quickly demands, still holding you against him. “Stay still for me, cariño.” (baby)

“A-Ah…” You release a stuttered moan, feeling him push your body forward in long, languid rolls. 

He pumps himself into you, pulsing as he finally releases exactly where he’s wanted to. And he smiles as he does it, his chest constricting as he feels his seed flow into you. You do as you’re told, too, staying perfectly in position for him. 

“You did perfectly, bebita.” He praises you, kissing your shoulder while the last drops of him drip inside you. (baby girl) 

“Oh…” You moan, concentrating on the feeling of him flooding your womb. It’s warm, just like it was before, and it makes you shudder beneath him. 

Pulling out carefully, he keeps his hands cemented to your hips. You were tired before, surely you’re exhausted now. And his prediction is right, so, he keeps you up for a moment before gently laying you onto your side. 

“Pero,” You huff out a whine, holding your hands out to him again. “Please.”

He grins, knowing how much you love body contact. And how could you not? He’s so warm and firm, so strong as he rests above you. He brings himself in, looping his arms around your back and sighing deeply while resting his face in the crook of your neck. This is also something he didn’t often receive when laying with whores, intimacy. And he really likes the feeling of it with you. 

“Will you stay with me?” He asks gently, kissing your neck. “Tonight?” 

Pero then looks down, lifting himself slightly. He grabs your dominant hand, kissing the top of it, and then makes his way up your arm, dragging his lips across your collarbone before inevitably returning to your neck. He’s already cum but he’s still so affectionate with you. It’s like he can’t get enough, like he doesn’t want this to be over. 

“I want more of you.” He whispers, kissing your ear while his hot, sturdy body rests above your nearly limp form. 

He isn’t sure what you’ll say, whether or not you’ll accept his offer to stay. But with everything in him, he hopes that you do. He likes you.

“Yes,” It fills your heart with warmth, with joy, hearing him invite you. “Of course I will stay with you.” 

Turning your head to the side, you kiss his temple, feeling and hearing him sigh. “I want more of you, too. I really do.” 

It’s not that he’s overly concerned with your comfortability, but it helps when you reassure him of it. He takes it into consideration, though. After all, he can’t have a good time if you aren’t having one, too.

“You will lay with me, princesa?” He asks with a smile on his face, again kissing your cheek. (princess)

“Mhm,” You nod, moving a hand down to his chest. You feel the overwhelming need to show appreciation for him, for the man he was on the battlefield and that he chose to be tonight. 

Moving with your soft gesture, your position is slowly flipped, mirroring that of the first position the two of you found yourselves in tonight. He watches as you move, happily settling onto his back with a satisfied groan. He finds himself growing tired, too.

“Preciosa,” He calls softly, drawing your attention up to him. “I said I would take care of you.” (precious)

“Well… me first.” You respond girlishly, grinning. And he chuckles at you.

You begin to thank him, slowly working your way down his body all over again. He asks you why you’re being so vocally grateful toward him, and you answer honestly with, “You’ve made me a woman tonight, Pero, and you did so honorably…” Your voice is soft while you speak to him, eyes fluttering shut though his stay open while he watches you work. And you moan happily, sighing contentedly over his skin. You shower him in gratitude, your lips and tongue moving to kiss and lick his scars, his toned muscle and taut skin once again. 

He isn’t even sure if he’ll be able to cum again, but he likes the feeling of your mouth. And he likes the fact that you’re willing to try and taste his seed again. And even though it’s overstimulating at this point, he holds your head when you finally go down on him, bucking his hips up toward your mouth and moaning again. He’s tired, but you want to take care of him.

“Princesa… you are mine now. You are a maiden no more now that you’ve laid with me.” Pero wanting to stake his claim over you continues to excite you, smirking before sucking his tip into your mouth. (princess)

“I’ve ruined you for every other man,” He goes on, declaring something you didn’t at all expect. “And I want to keep you with me.”

Happiness blooms inside your chest. So, this won’t be the only time you have with him? 

Pero begins to babble while your mouth brings him bliss, feeling you sigh while tasting your own slick on him. He tells you how beautiful you are, how erotic it is to feel your body with his, to experience your reactions to him. 

“I’ve claimed you for myself,” Suddenly, he grips your hair harshly, gritting his teeth. “Mine.” 

And then he promises something else to you. “I’ve seen you before, preciosa, you don’t deserve to work the way you do. I will protect you, bonita niña. When I return from the next war, I will return to you.” (precious) ( pretty girl)

“You promise me?” Comes your tiny voice, pretty and no longer innocent eyes looking up at him. This isn’t any small promise he’s making to you. He wants you. For more than just one night. 

“Yes, mi niña.” He sighs, petting your hair with a loving gaze. “I promise you.” (my girl)

[simpingcowboy]

The Rancher's Kid

Pairing: Pero Tovar x GN!Reader, no use of Y/N, reader is described as short, use of pet names

Word Count: 2.6k+

Warnings: SMUT!! size kink (mostly fixated on height, but Pero does kind of lift up reader), very quick mention of family, passing reference to sex work, reference to oral sex, slightly degrading language, height insecurities, pentrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, cock warming, bit of aftercare

Summary: A handsome stranger has a personal request for you and offers you an opportunity you cannot pass up.

A/N: Soooo this has kinda maybe been in my WIPs since Kinktober hehehe but it's heRE NOW!!! :) I did include a handy-dandy Kamasutra illustration of the position I was trying to describe at the bottom (drawing is M/F but this fic is inclusive to all! I simply could not find a M/M illustration to include 😭)

You were grabbing some water over at the local pub. Standing in the small corner where the jug of cool water sat for thirsty patrons. "The Rancher's Kid" the town's folk called you. Though it'd been many moons since you were actually a kid, the name stuck. You often were seen running around town to fulfill delivery orders for your family.

As you drink your water in the corner, a disgruntled noise interrupts your peace. You turn around, your eyes meeting the chainmail armor of the large man behind you. Looking up, you see a very handsome, rather bothered looking face. His dark brown eyes looking down straight into yours. A large scar covering over his right eye. The curls atop his head peeking over his brow as he bows his head to look down at you. He's broad, practically filling the small corner up with his width. The armor only enhances his large features, filling up even more space around him.

"Hello?" You offer up conversation meekly, unsure of the nature of his intrusion.

"You are in my way." He speaks in a thick Spanish accent.

"S-sorry" you stutter feeling intimidated. You step off to the side, clutching onto your cup of water.

You watch the stranger closely. He ridgedly approaches the water pitcher and pours himself a cup of water. You squeeze up closely to the wall behind you, finding yourself barricaded in the corner. The stranger's hand lifts the glass up to his lips to drink. You note the way his hand grips the cup with ease. His thick fingers taking up the height of the cup; his thumb and middle finger almost touching around its circumference. Looking back to your own hand you see you've barely been able to reach around the middle of the cup.

The stranger speaks again. "You are the ranchero's kid? Sí?"

"Y-yes I am…"

"What do you sell?" He asks, turning his body towards you.

"Different things, I don't have anything with me now, but I could bring whatever you need to you tomorrow?"

The stranger brings himself closer, his broad chest threatening to push into your face with each breath he takes. His harsh gaze brings itself down across your body, lingering over your form.

He hasn't taken a lover in many moons, the area around your town baren of most life. It was not unusual of him to go stretches of time without sex, the life of a mercenary not always affording him the luxury of someone to warm his bed. But he knew it. As soon as he saw you, he wanted you. You looked like the perfect little toy for him to play with.

"Are you for sale?" He asks coldly with a curious arch of his eyebrow.

"Am…am I for sale?" You repeat his question, certain you must have misheard him.

He answers you with a grunt and a nod.

An embarrassed heat runs across your face. You hastily shake your head no. "No. I'm not for sale." The stranger's gaze on you suddenly feels much heavier than before.

He pouts, and ponders for a moment. Still trapping you in the corner. "Then, what should I do- to convince you to lay with me?"

You swallow around your pride, the weight of which is sitting heavy in your throat. "I'm not sure…why should I lay with you?"

You didn't have many viable prospects realistically. The town was small, with limited availability at any one time. You certainly could not deny your attraction to the stranger, no matter how gruff he may be. With each passing moment, he grew more tempting.

The smallest smirk comes over the stranger's face. "Because little one…" He reaches up, taking your face in his hand. His large hand stretches the length from one temple to your other cheek, consuming your face in his grasp. "I will make you feel better than any man ever has before."

As much as you may like to deny this stranger the satisfaction, you couldn't deny the urge to feel those thick fingers in other places…

He'd returned you to his chamber for the night, a rented out little room off the side of a home. Pero was his name so you learned when he asked you to scream it out for him. You had learned very quickly that he was keen on keeping his promise of pleasuring you. It'd been over an hour of him teasing you with his mouth, licking, kissing, sucking. All the while stretching you out on his fingers. One…then two, and now three of his thick fingers eagerly stretching you out to take him.

"You are doing so well."

Pero greedily takes in the sight of your stretched out hole around his fingers before slowly removing them. He sits back in his haunches, towering over you laid on your back. His face and golden chest glimmering in the warm candle light. Warm brown eyes look up to peer into yours. His sulky expression is much softer than it was before.

"So stretched yet …" Unbreaking his eye contact with you, he steadily unlaces his breeches revealing his cock to you. "Maybe it will not fit." Pero says with the crook on his mouth. A teasing smirk growing on his face. He's big, long, thick. Even in his large hands, he barely fits around himself. Pero leans forward, resting his heavy cock along your hip. "Dimé, do you think your tight little hole can take me?"

You return his smirk, wrapping your thighs around his hips. "Only one way to find out."

He lets out a groan, your warm legs pulling him closer. His cock rubbing against your stomach.

"We will see, Quierde."

Pero pulls back enough to line himself up. He pushes in agonizingly slow. Letting you feel the stretch of his cock filling you up. The heavy weight of him pinning your hips to the bed. Inch after inch after inch he stuffs you full of him. Finally he plants his hips tight against yours. You swear you can feel him in your stomach.

"Bueno…muy bueno." He sighs out, satisfied with the way you've taken all of him.

He leans forward, caging you in under him as he slowly rocks his hips against you. Pero's body fills up your vision, casting his broad shadow over you. Even while lying above you, he still has a height advantage. His head starts where yours ends. You eagerly nip at Pero's neck, being the only thing really within your reach. You lap at the pulsing vein running up the length of it. Your arms stretch around his wide chest, nails scraping over his shoulders.

"More, I can take it." You plead.

Pero moans loudly on top of you. It's like you'd read his mind. He'd felt nervous about hurting you. You were well stretched out for him, but he didn't wanna break you. He was a heavy man,tall and sturdy. If he put his weight behind his thrusts he knew he'd risk hurting you, or knocking your head up against the headboard. But Pero Tovar was a man of great improvisation.

"Hold onto me."

As swiftly as he snuck into your life, he grips your hips and turns you both over. He sits back against the headboard with your legs still wrapped around him. A satisfied moan comes from his lips as he looks down at you sitting on his cock.

"Ride me." Pero asks of you.

You nod, a desire to satisfy him burning through you. Though, try as you might, your legs only barely made it from one side of his hips to the other. Your body didn't permit you the extra room needed to properly take him like this. You whine in frustration, only able to rock against him. He chuckles at your whine, causing his cock to twitch inside you.

"Shh, little one. I see." Pero's hand goes to your thighs, already so spread to accommodate his hips. "Turn around."

You do as he says, hopping off and quickly retaking your position on his lap now facing away from him. A moan coming from both of you as you sink down on him.

"Lean back against me, Girasol."

You recline against his warm chest, tucking your head under his. Reaching back to wrap your arms against his neck for support.

Without warning, Pero grabs your legs out from under you. Pulling your legs up and keeping them spread wide on either side of your body His large hands holding you tight in his grasp. Experimentally, he lifts you up on his cock, moving your whole body. Before slowly lowering you back down on him. Each muscle in his arms and chest was so controlled. Shit- how had you not noticed just how strong he was?

"There you do, Quierde." Pero bites back a growl. "Just like a pretty toy for me. You still want more?"

"P-please Pero. Play with your toy."

"Mierda" he moans loudly.

That sends him over. Any semblance of self control he had was quickly slipping from him. He lifts you again and again. Fucking you harder and faster with each lift of your hips. Enjoying the way your hands cling to his neck and shoulders.

"So good Little One…so small" his nails dig into your hips. "So tight for me."

Pero's head rolls back in pleasure. He knew you'd be so perfect for him. Letting him fulfill a fantasy, getting to use his body to its full advantage to fuck you. Even the slight burn in his arms turned to pleasure as you relinquished any power over to him. Sometimes Pero hates the mirror. His body is evidence of the many difficulties in life he's overcome. The scars, his muscles, even the scowl he wore on his face all evidence of his marred existence. But in this moment? He was so grateful to this body for bringing him to you. And for being strong enough to bring you pleasure like this.

Your moans echo off the cabin walls as you tuck your head into Pero's neck. You didn't always love your short stature. It came in handy sometimes on the farm. Being lower to the ground was convenient for gardening, or for lots of miscellaneous things here or there. Not like any of the animals cared, but other people? It felt hard to not feel a sense of inferiority. So many people towering over you, literally looking down at you. Right now though, you felt so grateful to be shorter. Letting Pero use you in ways that'd be impossible otherwise. Allowing him to fill and stretch you to your brink. You felt so safe in his grasp.

Pero's hips piston up to meet your bouncing form. Delicious groans spill from him with each thrust. A hand comes up between your legs, grabbing your jaw and forcing you to look up at Pero. He growls as he leans down, meeting you in a feverish kiss. He's all tongues and teeth. Brash, but no less passionate.

"Need you to cum." He grunts into your mouth. Teeth nibbling at your bottom lip.

Pero shifts beneath you. The other snakes down and takes you in his hand. Fingers rubbing in circles and short flicks with perfect precision. Making you whine out at the way he works you. With one hand firmly in place, the other arm stretches across your thighs. Pressing them close together and pulling you as tight as he can against him. Each thrust has him slamming you back down on his cock.

"Pero!" You cry out. The tightly wound knot in your stomach threatening to snap. "I'm s-so close." You mumble, barely able to speak over the vigor with which he fills you.

"Cum Girasol!" Pero demands, lips tracing over your face and neck. As much as he longs to kiss you, he needs to hear your cries for him. His fingers work you faster, harder.

You're eager to comply. It's just too perfect. His large form, keeping you safe in his embrace, arms wrapped around you. His warm breath in your neck. Feverish kisses pressing in your skin. The way his beautiful cock stuffs you full with every hard thrust. The feeling of Pero's hair just barely brushing over your finger tips. The sound reverberating off the walls and filling your ears with the sound of delicious sin. His hand working you even closer to orgasm. Pero feels like a dream around you. A dream you happily let yourself give into. The band snaps as you cry out for the mercenary for the final time that night.

"Pero! Pero- fuck!" You moan into the room. Cumning all over his hand and leaking onto his cock. Your body pulsing around where he's still firmly fucking you. Filling you with himself all the way to the root.

"T-too good…dios Quierde. I-I" He cums with a loud cry of your name. His whole body tightening up around you. Thrusting one…two…three more times as he cums, filling your holes with rope after rope of his cum. Finishing by planting you down on his hips, keeping you on his now softening cock. His hips are just barely grinding up into you, enjoying the heat of your body. Pero heaves into your shoulder, breathing heavy from his orgasm. "Mierda…" he murmurs. His arms still wrapped tight around you, hugging you. A trail of soft kisses make their way up your neck. "Such a good toy. So good for me."

You chuckle as Pero tickles you with his moustache. You let your arms fall from behind his head to feel down along his arms. Feeling slightly dazed from the intensity of your orgasm.

Finally catching his breath, Pero asks, "Did I keep my promise, Quierde?"

"Promise?" You murmur.

He smirks, "To please you better than any man ever has before."

"Oh-" you feel your face run hot, "yes…I'd say so."

He huffs, obviously satisfied with himself. "Relax with me." He gives you little choice as he repositions the two of you together. His arms untangle from your thighs, slowly bringing them down to an outstretched position. The mercenary shimmies down off the headboard, lying down on his back and bringing you with. He's careful not to remove himself from inside you. He sighs out and closes his eyes. Strong hands come to your waist, just rubbing up along your sides. Imprinting your figure into Pero's mind. His skilled fingers draw delicate shapes into your skin where he touches you. With each deep breath of his, his stomach presses up into the curve of your back. He's so relaxed, unlike the way he was when you first encountered him.

"Pero?" You whisper, not wanting to interrupt his peace, but uncertain if he's planning on allowing you to stay or kicking you out.

"Hmm?" He groans, rubbing his eyes. "Need to rest-" he yawns "Or else I can't fuck you again."

Your face goes hot at the indication. "A-again?"

"Mhmm…you stay, Quierde." His hands hold onto your hips keeping you in place. A moan catches in his throat as you squeeze around him. "I'll clean you and then," Pero leans in to give you a soft kiss on the cheek. "Make you messy again. Okay?"

You nod quietly against his head. "Okay Pero." You say trying to hide your smile.

"Good, Little One. Now rest." He nuzzles you before planting his head back down on the pillow.

You yawn, a wave of exhaustion rushing over you. You press against Pero's warm body, letting yourself relax against him. Enjoying the gentle ache between your legs, and the light weight of Pero's soft cock inside you. His hands embrace you in a comforting hug. A soft snore coming from the man beneath you. A feeling of warmth encapsulates you as you slowly lull off to sleep. Grateful for your encounter with the mercenary.

Position name, Full Nelson

[nerdieforpedro]

For your satisfaction Señora

Part One: Do you know what you want Señora?

Modern day Pero Tovar x plus size female OC

Fanfiction 18+ read the warnings!

Masterlist / Pero Tovar Masterlist

Summary: Cereza has an issue with her husband. He is alive. She plans to ask Tovar to help her with this delicate issue. Tovar finds that this works in his favor.

Warnings: planning a murder (I don't recommend it), harassment (Tovar and his questions), masturbation (male and female solos), mentions of sex work, violence, intimidation, stalking/voyerism (Tovar be messy), dismemberment

Notes: I couldn't think of a good name for the Dame so it is what it is. Not sure how many parts this will be, maybe three? I have a new appreciation for Pero Tovar. Let's see it together. 😎

“You can have a night for free you know; you’ve worked with me long enough Cereza.”

“I know he won’t do a night for free, Dame Chanel please arrange it for me. It needs to be more of a client thing, as much as it can be.” 

She sighed; she didn’t want to pay such an outrageous price for one night with the man, but she knew him well. He would not tell her what she needed to know otherwise. She knew about her husband’s cheating ways; she has for years. The issue was that apparently now he wanted to leave her, and she would have to pay alimony. Cereza knew she would not only have to pay to talk to the man who could solve her issue, she would have to pay him to solve the issue separately. 

“I’m surprised he won’t entertain a conversation with you. You’re the only handler he prefers to get his jobs through. He normally berates the others or doesn’t answer their calls despite being highly requested.”

“The man wouldn’t need a handler if he knew how to speak to the clients himself, he has no filter and is much too blunt. How is it that he…” Cereza struggled to form the words, not all the jobs were assassinations, threats, or bodyguard work, some were from women who wanted an escort. She could not picture that barbarian of a man be accommodating toward any woman unless he was getting an obscene amount of money. Nothing else seemed to interest him save for a friend he had mentioned, never by name. He sounded like a decent sort, how did he ever get to know Tovar?

“It doesn’t matter, just please set it up Ma’am.” Cereza left the Dame’s office, she could get a meeting with him sure, but how exactly would she ask him, how could this be pulled off so she could be eliminated as a suspect? Once at her office she sighed, if he would just play his role and be a proper trophy husband, things would be fine. She was even getting to the point she was fine masturbating and getting herself off, but to know that man not only had the gall to cheat on her, but he was also getting her hard-earned money after continuing his ‘graphic design’ career where he only had a few jobs a month and those she had to push him to take instead of being around the house all day. It pissed her off to no end and that’s clearly motive.

“I should have never gotten married. I thought he understood what I needed. I just needed him to be there. He used to be.”

Tovar was a man about his money. Do not mess with his money, get in the way of him making money and damn sure do not try to take any of his money. He was not above killing, maiming, threatening, fucking and whatever else was required for him to maintain his secure condo and sizable bank account. He and his friend William had gotten into this jack of all trades work together early in their twenties, but now that Tovar was in his mid-forties, he had only slowed down a little. William on the other hand, limited his jobs to bodyguard work, escorts with no happy endings and an assassination here or there. Will had married, settled down and had children. Other people to provide and care for. Tovar was happy for his friend but never saw the point in sharing his wealth or investing in anyone other than himself. You couldn’t guarantee a return on another person. He had found that with most of his handlers, they were always trying to get him to network and talk to people, Tovar felt it was unnecessary.

The only handler that seemed to understand business was business was Cereza or ‘Señora’ (Ma’am) he often called her. He knew she was married given the ring on her finger but not much more then that. She did not waste his time, was straightforward and he appreciated that. No meeting after things were finished with clients or dinners where jobs were not discussed. It did cause him to wonder, why she had no pictures of her husband on anyone in her office, other handlers had at least a few. Was she an island like himself, adrift in life with no one tethering them to the mainland? After two months of working with her he decided to bring it up in one of the many conversations in Señora’s office:

“The target was eliminated easily. I brought the proof the client asked for.” Tovar placed a wooden box on Cereza’s desk. She looked up at him and reached into one of her desk drawers, pulling out blue nitrile gloves and donned them. She opened the box to see a man’s foot cut clean at the ankle, she picked it up and examined it. Setting it back down, she threw her gloves in the trash and used some hand sanitizer. 

“I’ll take it from here. The requested item is in excellent condition. They’ll likely give you a bonus for that. That’s all Tovar.” She told him curtly. It was to dismiss him; she knew he didn’t like being in her office any more than he had to. Tovar nodded but did not leave, instead he was direct.

“Why don’t you have any pictures of anyone Señora? Like your husband.” He asked his head nodding in the direction of her left hand that wore her gold wedding ring. She used her thumb to roll it on her finger, her soft palms started to perspire. The woman studied his face, looking for any reason he may be asking this, there was none that she could see. His face remained the same as when he put the foot on her desk. A slight scowl but otherwise blank. 

“It’s not like you to pry Tovar. What’s brought this about?” She asked confused. This was new. She did not like it. She had come to know what to expect from him, Tovar was predicable unlike her husband.

Tovar shrugged, “I was curious. Do you really have a husband? Do you like being called Señora? Is it a kink for you?” He asked, half-joking, though it may be why she did wear the ring. Women were slightly less likely to be pursed if there was a wedding ring.

Cereza rolled her eyes. Of course, he’s messing with her, this is a new angle though. Usually, he would ask why she always wears pants and never skirts, even when it’s warm. She had told him then it was because of her legs, though not in detail. It was true, but only because she didn’t feel like having her thighs rub together all day in and out of the office, plus she hadn’t really had any reason to wear dresses seeing that her husband didn’t care if she wore them or not. He was still meeting with his mistress. Why be uncomfortable for something that’s not going happen? “No, it is not a kink. Yes, I do have a husband. Please go Tovar.” She stood and walked to the door, opening it for him as she rubbed her temple, she felt a headache coming on. 

“Señora, you seemed stressed. Maybe your esposo (husband) isn’t caring for you properly? Take something for that headache, would you? I’ll ask you again about you and your husband.” Tovar smiled, stopping to tap her shoulder being leaving. Cereza sat back down until her headache subsided slightly and she felt well enough to drink, she downed some ibuprofen she had in her desk and secured the foot in her office safe for delivery tomorrow. “Maybe he’s starting something because he wants a new handler, fine by me.”

In the subsequent months, Tovar would ask occasionally about Señora’s husband to which she would either ignore the questions completely or just tell Tovar that her husband is just fine. He was enjoying seeing her frustrated by his questions, she was normally stoic, so this was fun, having her slightly flustered to where he would only see. Tovar was an intelligent man despite most thinking he was the opposite given his imposing appearance. He was tall, had dark hair, cut close to his ears, the curls snaked near the tops of his ears. He had a scar over his left eye that divided that eyebrow in two. His jawline was peppered with a light beard that didn’t match the thick mustache under his nose. His face was normally neutral unless he was angry or annoyed.  The assassin was enjoying himself, until one day she asked if he wanted a new handler.

“Wait, Señora what do you mean?” His eyes wide. Cereza shook her head and crossed her arms in front of her chest, they were waiting for their client to show up to a restaurant to discuss an escort job. The pair usually arrived ten minutes earlier to scope out the place and review the client’s file.

“After these next few jobs, I think you should have a new handler. One you can discuss matters with. I’m not one for discussing my personal life and you keep asking. I thought you told me you were business only.” Cerza reminded him. She wasn’t wrong, but he had been curious at first, just messing with her. But her responses became more defensive, and her frustration grew, and Tovar had noticed for the second week now she wasn’t wearing her ring. At times when they would discuss jobs, her mind wasn’t focused, she would lose track of what she was talking about and once called a client by the wrong name, the client didn’t hear her because they were too busy complaining about the person, they wanted Tovar to threaten but he noticed as he did most things with Señora. Her hair always in a tight bun at the back of her head, always pants never skirts or dresses. Tovar would give her calves some extra study in the off chance she wore capris, the were large and shapely like the rest of her. Normally in dark colors, almost always black from heat to toe. Small gold studs were in her ears to match the ring that she no longer wore. The only smile he ever saw from her was with a client, never toward him. Señora always frowned with him, even when he joked with her, he thought he may get a pity smile, but she wouldn’t give him that either. 

“Señora, I’m actually worried. I was having a bit of fun with you before but these last few months you’ve been different. You also don’t wear your ring anymore.” Tovar took her hand and squeezed her ring finger to prove his point, then let go. “I will stop mentioning your husband, but I will not take another handler. You have adjusted to me, so I shall need to adjust to you.” He nodded and then put a fake smile on his face as he looked behind her. “It looks like our client is here.”

“So, it would seem. Fine, I’ll put it on hold for now.” She answered softly, the warmth of his hand was gone. When was the last time she was touched by a man? She was starved, that’s the only reason for that thought. The client was a woman in her mid-seventies. It turns out, she wanted Tovar to escort her to a black-tie charity event, fine, not like he hadn’t done it before. The client did ask about the happy ending service to which she was quote the price. The older woman looked at Cereza and asked in a hushed tone, 

“How am I to know if what I pay for is gonna be any good? Have you slept with him? Do you know big he is below the belt and how well he uses it?” Señora’s entire face flushed, and she felt like she had been doused with hot sauce, her skin burned. She immediately looked at Tovar who had a shit eating grin on his face and took her hand again as he answered for his handler.

“I mean she does have to sample my work from time to time to make sure I’m good enough to be an escort right Señora?” He drew out the senora longer than it needed to be as his thumb ran across the back of her soft hand, pressing into it slightly. Cereza cleared her throat and nodded, pulled out of the trance that she was in. 

“Y-Yes. I can guarantee that you will be fully satisfied Ma’am. He is rather generous with his partners and doesn’t stop until they reach completion. At least twice before the main event.” Cereza smiled back and Tovar as he raised an eyebrow, he released Señora’s hand and took both of the client’s hands. The older woman gasped and shook her head. 

“I may just do the escort by itself. That actually sounds like too much. I got my hip replaced three years ago, or maybe so. Can I decide later?” The woman scanned Tovar up and down, she maybe should have listened to the doctor when he was talking all that nonsense about vitamin D and calcium. 

Cerza shook her head and stated that things needed to be decided now so the client decided on just the escort and said she would revisit the happy ending another time when she felt up to it. The pair walked the woman to her car and Tovar did the same for Cerza. She went to open her door to which he sneered and opened it for her, he stood beside her car door and leaned in after she rolled her window down. 

“You sold me pretty hard to that client. Is that what you like Señora? Twice before the main event? I’ll have to remember that.” He smirked. Cereza sighed.

“I thought you said you weren’t going to mention anything anymore.” She countered, picking up her phone to see a missed call from her husband. Further annoyed, she tossed it back in her purse. Tovar turned his head to the side.

“I didn’t mention your husband, only what you said to the client. I’m inferring that to mean he does not, especially the way you tossed your phone.” He pointed. “Maybe you should try me out. I make a point not to with those I work with, but I feel you’re different Señora. You need some tending to don’t you?” Cerza closed her eyes. She just needed to turn the keys, drive away, but here she was listening to this man propositioning her. Sure, all of the women who Tovar pleasured were paying for it and likely told him their preferences, but they were also starved for affection like her. It’s why they sought-out escorts, for the sex obviously but companionship as well, having someone warm next to you instead of a cold bed at home.

“No. It’s business, all business. You leave this shit right here. I may be…dammit.” She had almost told him in her frustration. The manipulative bastard was getting to her. She turned her keys and started her car. “Move Tovar. I need to sleep on it and decide if you’re going to have a new handler come tomorrow.” Tovar backed up and put his hands in his pockets still smiling, he knew she had thought about it and that’s why she got mad. He wasn’t getting a new handler tomorrow. Tovar then decided on a new project, he would back off his handler a bit, she did seem high-strung now. He needed to know why and for that, he would need to find out about her husband.

Cerza went home to a dark house. That man was out again, maybe with the mistress she knew of it could with someone else or he could be just out. It didn’t matter. Tonight made her angry in so many ways. Sure, they secured the client and Tovar would do his job as he always did fine. But why should she be annoyed at work and at home? At home she understood because her husband was MIA but at work as well? Where was she questioned about said husband all the time? And now this asshole had the stones to be asking about her preferences in bed? Had Cereza not been the one to set up the initial meeting with the client, she would have thought that Tovar had talk that old woman into bring up his performance. 

Honestly…. She wearily removed her clothes, not caring that she was dropping them in her living room, fully naked and walking around her house. She had more time to do this since her husband was out and came to like it over the years. She chuckled thinking of the few times he had come home, and she was naked, and he averted his eyes, embarrassed. She asked him why he was embarrassed to look at his own wife, he used to be following her around the house, craving her, stalking her, but now…none of that. Instead, it was a man who she wasn’t sure if he was just mocking the frustration he read on her. The handler could never tell if Tovar was serious of not, part of his job was to act like he liked all those women, she could well be one more he was pretending with.

She looked down at her left hand, the first day she really had forgotten to wear it, she washed her hands after using the bathroom before driving into work. She removed it to dry under it lest it get itchy later in the day. It wasn’t until she had been at the office for a few hours that she noticed it wasn’t on. When she came home, it was on the bathroom counter. She put it on but then later took it off before getting in the shower and left it off. One day turned into three, that turned into a week, then two, why did he of all people have to notice? 

“Well of course he would, I see him most days, unlike my own damn husband.”

Tovar followed Señora’s car to her home. He only noted one car, so he assumed her husband was likely not home. He thought it was odd and earlier she seemed pissed that her husband was calling her. It appeared their relationship was bad; he just didn’t know how poor it really was. He would come back another day, for now, he knew where she lived, he could look the rest up, however, he did not expect to see a naked woman in the living room. He was too far away to make out details thought he desperately wanted to, but he was sure it was Señora, he guessed she was just in her own head as she always was lately, stark naked with her hand on the window almost like she was trying to go through it. Her generous curves had always intrigued Tovar, she looked soft, but he knew he would be able to bend her, stretch her, run his hands over her soft belly, breasts, thighs, and arms, finally be able to hear her scream Tovar in a sensual manner and not an angry one. He found her sexy while she was fuming too though.

To have a woman like that so pissed that she wouldn’t answer the phone from her own husband, Tovar chuckled. He recalled a day when he was his way to her office, and he overheard a conversation between a male client and Señora. She was reviewing escorts for some holiday party and apparently none of the available women met his standards, though he stupidly told Señora that he would like to see her out of her suit and in a dress with his arm around her. He would pay the double what he planned to pay the escort. Tovar came closer to the door so intervene, but Señora had pulled a knife and was holding it to his throat, a red line dripped down his neck. The man left and later was rumored to have paid a large sum for improper conduct. Tovar had held onto the wall that day as he hardened from the sight. He needed to catch himself though, because after the man left, Señora wiped off her knife and turned to him, asking him if he was here for his next job. 

Tovar might even be able to have her say his first name in exchange for tasting her wet core as he made her climax twice times before entering her to have her devour his cock.

“As the lady wants...” A zipper cut through the night air and the jangle of a belt buckle becoming undone as he removed his engorged member felt the chill of the air on it, he groaned as he watched her at the window. He wondered how many nights she stood at the window like that, would he be able to see her tomorrow if he came back? He spat in his hand and held his shaft, circling his thumb over the head of his cock. Tovar wondered how many times she was alone like this, without her husband. It seemed ridiculous leaving her alone, a soft sigh left his lips, leaning back into the driver’s seat as he looked up at her, when did this longing start exactly? Only when he started asking about her husband or prior to that? Maybe it was the affinity he felt toward her no-nonsense business sense. His hand began to work up and down, matching his thirst for her, “I could bury myself in you Señora, fuck, you wouldn’t be able to get rid of me…” He exhaled after another groan, biting his own lips as he felt himself start to let go, envisioning her body covered with a thin sheen of sweat below him. He would kiss her and wrap himself around her as he lay beside her, touching her shoulder and neck with his lips. He would finally take her hair out of the little bun she always wore, it would expand from their amorous pursuits and he run his fingers through her hair, feeling her simply breathe next to him as she slept. Tovar quickly grabbed a tissue out of the cup holder and gave himself half a dozen more pumps before releasing into the napkin. Peering back up at Señora’s home, he questioned if he was losing his mind. Smiling to himself, he knew that it was gone long ago, otherwise he wouldn’t be in such a hidden business that required go-betweens. Tovar knew he would have to approach this carefully. His hand would have to do outside of escort work, for now.

Señora was not aware Tovar saw her. She had absent-mindly gone to gaze at the moon. Feeling cold, she made her way up her shower and washed, using her favorite body was that smelled of vanilla figs. The last part of her night was to get out her wand and use it to stimulate herself though a disturbing trend was occurring, at least to her. It had been more difficult to climax on her own, so she began watching some porn, but it didn’t get her going, however, one of the nights shortly after telling Tovar against not to mention her husband, she said his name and felt a spark. She said it again and felt it a bit more. 

“Damn Tovar, I can’t escape him even here…Ahh…” A moan left her as she thought of him, leaning over her desk, interrogating her about her husband. The image made her angry, but she started picturing him touching her hand, placing his hand on her forehead. He had large hands, calloused from bodyguard work and assassinations, but gentle with her. 

“Señora, your husband no longer knows what you like. Tell me so I can do it for you. Tell me what you need.”

“Relax Señora, sit here on your desk. You’ll forget about everything. I’ll make sure of it.”

“How many fingers do you want Señora? You want me to cum on your face or breasts? Spread yourself for me. I want to see you unravel for me. Is your pussy as tight as your hair bun?”

Cerzea, fingers rolled her nipples and tugged on them while her thighs trapped the vibrating want between them, hips attempting to ride it, the wetter she became.

“Your husband can’t make you drip like this can he? Cry out my name and I’ll give you more Señora. I can bend you over the desk and fill you to the brim.”

Her moans became louder, bordering on screams, she said his name, “P-Pero…yes, fill me Pero. Spread me on…Ugh.. the desk and ruin my pussy…Pero…Pero please…Ahhh!!” Cereza screamed as her heat peaked, arching her back, the waves crashed over her as she continued to whisper his name.

 “Pero…Pero…Pero, Pero.” She fell asleep across the bed, her headache non-existent, replaced with guilt for thinking Pero Tovar as she pleasured herself. Her hands covered her face, groaning at what she had done, again. She hated what she was doing, yet she hadn’t stopped these past months. Tonight, had made it worse, he actually said words similar to what she longed to hear in her office. For Tovar to ask her what she wanted and to give it to her without further questions or expectations. 

“I’m going insane. Maybe I should fly away somewhere. I need to not see him. Maybe I can find Pero an overseas assignment.” Cereza paused. She just said his first name aloud. “It’s so loathsome. That man’s name should not be that cute.”

——————————————-

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added):

@fhatbhabie @morallyinept @pedritapascal @pascalsanctuary @nissaimmortal @grogusmum @theywhowriteandknowthings @beefrobeefcal @goodwithcheese @iamasaddie @psychedelic-ink @modernperplexity @pamasaur @pedrodascal @marcus-is-my-muse @clawdee @mintypossum @trulybetty @perotovar @joelslegalwhre @josephquinnswhore @mandoisapunk @awilderi @deviinci @secretelephanttattoo @for-a-longlongtime @tessa-quayle @legendary-pink-dot @sin-djarin @maggiemayhemnj @rhoorl @magpiepillsjunior @intoanotherworld23

[perotovar]

i need your help lol

so like, for anyone that's interested in my holiday pero fic, would you give a shit if there was no romance? like, it was just kind of like a character study? this fandom is horny as hell so i feel like i know what the answer will be, but i need to know if anyone is gonna fucking read this or not lmao

[absurdthirst]

The Irish Escape {Modern!Pero Tovar x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 13.9k

Warnings: Rudeness, Pero being an asshole, prejudice against Americans, hypothermia, oral sex (male receiving), vaginal sex, rough sex

Comments: Freshly arrived in Ireland to visit the cottage your estranged grandmother has willed you, you run into a rude Spaniard. Unsure of why he hates Americans and why you seemingly can't stop running into him.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || Pero Tovar MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

It’s raining when you arrive in Dingle, County Kerry. You curse your suitcase as you try to drag it along the garden path that leads up to the small cottage known as Fairy Lodge. You fumble to find the key under the mat and work quickly to unlock the door, shivering as you step into the entrance, dragging your case behind you. You shut the door and shrug off your coat, wiping your boots on the mat. The cottage - tiny and cute - was left to you by your grandmother. She recently passed but you hadn’t seen her since you were ten after she decided to follow her dream and buy a house in Ireland. She left it to you in her will with the note, “always follow your dreams” and you decided to take a vacation and check the place out. It’s beautiful, even in the rain, and you are looking forward to exploring the area your grandma loved so much. After drying off and opening up the cottage. It’s quaint in the best way and you check the cupboards to find nothing, not even a pack of cookies. With a sigh, you look out of the window to find the rain has stopped so you put your coat on and make your way out onto the damp streets. You aren’t sure where to go but you googled a small pub nearby so you make your way over to it, hungry and desperate for a drink after traveling.

“Come on, mate.” William rolls his eyes and shakes his head, putting his pint down to slap his friend on his shoulder. “You should stay and drink. The rain’s gonna start again and it’s not like you can work.” He chuckles, imagining how much the Spaniard would curse working out in the rain. When Pero had shown up at his door nearly a year ago, angry and adrift with no plan for his life, he had taken in his old friend. Let him live with him until he had purchased a cottage down the road from the Garin farm. “Nothin’ better to do than drink.” Pero grumbles, shaking his head as he stands up, pushing his chair back. “No.” He huffs, pulling his coat off the back of the chair and shrugging into it before jamming his flat billed hat onto his head. “I’m not paying for your beers.” He glares at the Irishman, knowing that if he stays, he will be left paying the tab. He turns and strides towards the door, not noticing the woman turning away from the counter with a hot coffee in her hands. 

You gasp as the man knocks into you and your coffee spills over his front, soaking his jeans, and you immediately bounce back. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry. I- shit.” You place the cup down on the counter and you reach for the napkins, turning back to try and help the man mop up the mess you made of him.

The accent makes him immediately seeth in rage, barely even paying attention to your remorseful expression as you shove the napkins at his crotch. Pero slaps your hands away, hissing at the heat of the coffee. “Fucking Americans.” He spits, shooting you a deadly glare. “Ruining fucking everything.” Shoving past you, he slams out of the door and out of sight. 

Your jaw drops and you stare at the door as he swings on the hinges. You can’t believe what he spat at you and you turn to look at the men gathered around the bar. “I- I didn’t see him behind me.” You choke and the blonde man shakes his head, “don’t mind the miserable Spanish bastard. He’s just not a fan of Yankees at the moment.” He chuckles and gulps down the rest of his pint. “Not your fault, lass.” He tells you and you sigh, “he made that crystal clear.” 

The bartender shakes his head, “Garin, that Spanish git needs to apologize to the lady.” 

William scoffs, “you tell him that.” 

You huff, “doesn’t matter. Can I get another cup?” You ask the bartender who nods. You sigh as you finally sit down in the corner, your annoyance at the rude Spaniard fading as you relax.

William decides that he needs to make up for his friend’s rude behavior. He stands up and groans, carrying his pint back to the bar for a refill. He nods to the bartender and slides it down to where he’s pouring you another coffee. “So.” He leans against the rubbed worn wood and shoots you what he knows is a charming grin. “Tourin’ Ireland, are ya?” He asks, making his accent slightly thicker. “Passin’ through, or will ya be stayin’ awhile?” 

“Actually, I - my grandma had a cottage down the road. Fairy Lodge? She left it to me after she recently died and I needed to get away so I came to check on the house.” You explain.

William nods, “oh that tiny little place on the corner? I remember the old lady who owned it.” He nods, “sweet old gal.” He takes the pint from the bartender and comes over, sitting down opposite you. “How long you plannin’ on being here?” He asks you and you shrug, “not sure. I can work remotely so I’ll probably be here a couple of weeks before I head home. I’m going to put the home on the market. I won’t be able to get out here to maintain the home so I think I’ll sell it.” You confess, setting your mug down.

“Oh, you should stay awhile for sure.” William advises. “Make sure the land doesn’t grow on you.” He has to admit, having a younger, attractive woman in the village would be a good thing. But he also doesn’t want the home sold to someone who would not respect the land, or the people. He can’t imagine your granny raising anyone who would disrespect the lady she had adopted as her own. “Besides, ye can always ask your neighbor to check on things. We take care of each other ‘round here.”

You offer him a soft smile, “yeah…except for ‘fucking Americans’” You scoff softly as you quote his companion. 

William shakes his head, “ignore Tovar. He’s a grumpy fucker.” 

You tap your fingers against the mug, “well, he clearly doesn’t like Americans so maybe it’s best that I sell up.” You hum and William sighs, “well, see how ya feel. You might turn out to love it here. I know I do. I served in Iraq and all I wanted to do was come home.” He confesses and you smile again, “it is a beautiful place. I’ll see how things go.”

He nods, reaching for the beer that has been put in front of him. “Well, if you’re needing anything, I’m at the Garin farm. Ask anyone and they’ll point you in my direction.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it.” You offer William a smile and he makes his way back over to his friends. You settle in to continue reading your book and you thank the landlady for your meal as she brings it over to you. You eat and thankfully the rain has stopped when you decide to make your way back to Fairy Lodge. Tomorrow, you’ll get some groceries but for now, you’re exhausted. You quickly get ready for bed and settle in, falling asleep within minutes.

The next morning, Pero grumbles to himself as he walks up the lane towards the village. Needing some groceries, he wants to see if old man Sawyer had gotten in those wines that he had asked for. It was hard to make some of his dishes without the Spanish wines and he was looking forward to getting them.

You carry your basket around the small grocery store and you gasp when you walk around the corner to see the asshole from last night nearly walk into you again. "Do you make a habit of walking into people?" He growls and you huff, "only rude bastards who don't notice anyone in their peripheral." You hiss back, stomach twisting with annoyance at the man.

He purses his lips at you and narrows his eyes. “What’s an American like you doing in a grocery store like this?” He demands, annoyed that your mere presence makes him feel guilty for yesterday and it just irritates him more. “They don’t have all the fancy shit you would want here. Best go to Dublin and take your demanding, childish ways with you.” 

You narrow your eyes and grip the basket in your hand a little tighter. "Listen, I don't know what the fuck I did to you yesterday that makes you act like a rude prick but I accidentally spilled my coffee over you and you act like I just pissed in your cornflakes. I am here because my grandma left me her house so you'll be seeing more of me around the village. Get used to it, asshole." You growl, spinning on your heel to find the ground coffee.

The news that you will be here even longer than he would like puts Pero in a mood. “Hijo de puta.” He spits, his own basket handle nearly broken as he grips it tight in his fist. The last thing he needs is some stuck up, American bitch hanging around and causing trouble. Old man Sawyer comes into view and he stomps over to him to see if the wine came in. 

You don’t notice the man has left when you go to pay for your groceries and the old man starts to ring everything up. “I noticed there’s a bit of tension between you and Tovar.” He says softly and looks up at you. You’ve forgotten what it’s like to be in a small town - the gossiping and everyone knowing each other - but you sigh, holding your wallet. “I accidentally spilled my coffee over him in the pub last night and he seems to hate me without even knowing my name.” You huff, “I’m not the kind of woman that’s gonna bow over and beg for forgiveness when I already apologized.” You explain and Sawyer nods, “he’s a grumpy git. He, uh, has had a lot going on from what I have heard.” You snort, “haven’t we all? Still not enough of a reason for him to be a prick.” You say and Sawyer chuckles, “you’re fiery. You’ll fit in just fine around here.” He winks and hands you your change. “Thanks.” You say and make your way back to Fairy Lodge, wondering what happened to make Tovar such an asshole.

Pero is passing by the gate to William’s house, his own groceries in a bag on his arm and lost in his thoughts when his friend calls out to him. “Missed a bit of gossip after pouting off into the night.” He looks over at where William is pushing his best sheep, Nell, out of the way and walking towards the stone wall. He rolls his eyes. 

“What, did she manage to spill a beer on you?” He huffs, smirking slightly in amusement at the idea. 

“No, but she did tell me that she’s going to be in town.” 

His smirk slides away and he scowls. “Sí, I know that.” He grumbles, sighing as he walks off the road and towards the wall to talk. The lane was narrow and lorries love to careen around the corners recklessly. 

“How did you find out?” William is grinning, about to tease Pero for being interested in the American. “She nearly ran me over in Sawyer’s.” He snorts. “Woman - women - are menaces. Especially stuck-up, American bitches.” 

“Now mate, you and I both know that’s not fair. She’s not your ex wife.” William shakes his head, “not all Americans are stuck up bitches…or cheaters.” He raises his eyebrows at his Spanish friend who came to him years ago after finding his wife in bed with their neighbor. “Besides, you always told me you wanted to move from Seville. Said you felt trapped. So you came here to bother my ass.”

“I can always kill you so you aren’t bothered anymore.” Pero threatens, only making William laugh. He knows the Spaniard won’t actually kill him and therein lies the problem. They had been in the military together, serving on the same military bases in Iraq and somehow had become friends. Or as close to friends as Pero could have. Knowing the Irishman wouldn’t pity him like so many he had known would, he had decided to sulk in the Irishman’s home village and ended up staying. “She’s just like her.” He predicts. “All pretty smiles and batting eyelashes to get her way and then she shoves the knife in your ribs. She’ll sell the cottage to some developer who will want to put some god awful monstrosity where her granny’s cottage is. Only hope it's far away from my own.” 

William snorts, “she doesn’t seem money hungry to me, mate. She’s not like her. From what you’ve told me, she was charming and drew you in with a fake personality. This one seems real. She doesn’t seem to be faking anything.” William observes, “she’s not your ex wife. She just happens to be American.”

Pero rolls his eyes, knowing that William won’t understand. He’s not been betrayed like he has and had his heart ripped out. Even more to find that the baby she had just told him about wasn’t his. She had just been planning on using him. “I’ve got better things to do than to argue with you, amigo.” He grumbles, pushing away from the wall and walking towards the road. 

“All I’m saying is to just give her a chance.” William shouts at Pero’s retreating form and he sighs, looking down at Nell. “He really is a stubborn bastard.” 

**** 

You decide to spend the day in the cottage, checking out things that your grandma left here and cleaning it up. You look through the photos she left there of your family. You haven’t seen her for years but she had an album of photos your parents must have sent her over the years. You caress the book, wishing you’d known her more and you wonder why she left you the cottage. She didn’t even leave you a note in her will when you got the keys.

There’s movement in the Fairy Cottage. Pero had noticed it when he was moving some more kindling under the lean-to on the back of the cottage. The sweet older lady that had lived there had been an American, but he hadn’t held it against the feisty old woman. A light comes on and he narrows his eyes in anger. People need to respect that a house is empty without molesting it. He grabs the crowbar he had been pulling old boards off the interior walls to redo. Ready to go confront the thief and make sure they don’t walk away with anything. 

You hear the back door open with a creak and you inhale sharply, unable to believe that someone is breaking into the tiny cottage in the tiny village that you believed was as safe as could be. Everyone knows each other for fucks sake. You pick up the nearest thing - a book - and make your way down the stairs to confront the invader. When you get to the bottom step, you see the shadow and throw the book, a scream escaping your lips.

Pero curses when the book comes out of nowhere and hits him on the head. Turning and swinging the crowbar threateningly. “You had better make your peace with God if you think you are stealing anything from this house!” He shouts, lunging forward to grab the criminal who has broken into the cottage. “Got you!” 

You scream as he grabs the back of your sweater and you try to hit him. “Get the fuck off of me!” You tell, slapping anywhere you can reach. “Get off!”

He drops the crowbar just as soon as he hears that accent, immediately aware that he has a woman and despite everything, he couldn’t hurt one. “Ow! Ow!” He yelps, throwing his arm up to block the jarringly accurate slaps as they strike his skin. “Stop your hitting, woman!” He growls, finally grabbing your arm so you can stop slapping his face. 

You can’t believe it’s him. “Oh my God, it’s you. You bastard!” You growl, trying to wrench your arm from his grip. “What the hell are you breaking into my cottage?” You demand to know, “what the fuck, Tovar?”

He would be surprised you know his name, but that bastard William has a big mouth. “Your cottage?” He shakes his head. “I didn’t know it was your cottage. The old gal that lived here died just two months….” He trails off, remembering you had said you inherited a cottage from your grandmother. That sweet old woman was your granny? He lets go of your arm and grunts. “Thought you were a thief.” He tells you. “Wanted to run them off before they could steal anything.” 

You are slightly touched that he’d put himself in danger to protect your grandmother’s cottage but you are also annoyed that he broke in without any warning. “Well, it’s just me. Although I’m surprised you didn’t take the opportunity to whack me.” You scoff as he lets go of your arm and you reach up to rub it. 

He snorts, bending down to pick up the crowbar and glares at you. Hating that it was you that he had run into again. No doubt you will be telling everyone what a fool he is, or perhaps calling the police on him for entering your cottage. “Might should have.” He grunts at you. “How do I know you even own this property?” He asks, narrowing his eyes at you again. “Wouldn’t be the first con artist American I’ve run into.” 

You narrow your eyes at him, crossing your arms. “Wow. You’re a grade A prick.” You scoff, “my grandma left it for me and you - I don’t have to explain anything to you.” You huff, staring at him and you get a proper look at him for the first time. He’s handsome, even with that scar on his eye, and you hate that he’s handsome. “Did you, uh, did you know my grandma well?” You ask softly after a moment. The curiosity gets the better of you.

Pero stares at you for a moment before nodding. “I fixed her roof the first year she was here.” He tells you. “Delivered her peat moss to burn and made sure that she was okay when bad weather rolled in.” He rocks his jaw, having to admit to himself that he could see the family resemblance and thinks that he had seen a picture of you when you were younger. “I-” he swallows. “I’m the one who- who found her.” Sadness fills his eyes as he remembers that day. At least she had passed peacefully in her sleep. 

You inhale sharply, tears stinging in your eyes for the grandmother you didn’t get to know properly. “I- I hadn’t seen her since I was ten. My parents divorced and my mom…she didn’t let my dad take me to see her when she moved here. I- I wish I could’ve known her better.” You sigh, stepping back from Tovar. “Anyway…you must be sick of me by now. The ironic thing is you don’t even know my name.”

Pero recalls the stories she had told him about her family, producing your name with an ease that startled him. “She talked about you.” He tells you. “Never stopped loving you and talking about when you were young.” The least he can do is not let you think the old woman didn’t care about you. “Maybe that’s why she left you the cottage.” He offers. 

You nod, biting your lip as tears sting in your eyes when you think about your grandmother. “Thanks for telling me that.” You say, sniffing as you try to not cry. “I - I appreciate it. Do you, uh, I really am sorry about spilling my coffee over you.”

He can’t snap at you when your eyes are watering and you look like you are about to cry. “Don’t worry about it.” He tells you. “I’m sorry for breaking into your cottage.” He tells you as he shuffles uncomfortably. He’s never been good at apologies, but he owes you that. “I’ll leave you to your day then.” He tells you. 

You nod, uncrossing your arms as you escort Pero to the back door. “That - I’ll fix that.” You say, not even sure of where to start to fix the door he had broken when trying to protect the cottage from faux thieves.

Shaking his head, he opens the door and bends down to examine it. “I’ll have the door fixed in an hour.” He tells you. “Need to go get some things from my tool shed and I’ll have it sturdier than it’s ever been.” He looks up and shrugs. “My fault anyway.” 

You accept his offer, knowing you won’t be able to fix the door, especially not tonight, so you let him go grab his tool box and when he comes back, you’re preparing some tea. “You want some tea?” You ask, knowing the nights are turning colder here.

“Do you know how to make it?” He asks seriously. “American tea is very sweet….and cold.” He grimaces, remembering when his ex would try to make tea and he had to drink it in order to make her happy. He had hated it. 

You chuckle, “I can make hot tea. Iced tea is for hot days. Or I can make some coffee?” You offer, not sure what he wants and you wonder when he had iced tea. It’s not something you’ve encountered so far in Ireland.

“Hot tea.” Pero nods. “I don’t understand how someone drinks tea that is thick like syrup.” He chuckles and then thinks to add, “thank you. I’ll get your door fixed, I’ve got another one that will fit.” He promises, opening the door and examining the frame. He had been about to replace his own door but he could always go get another one. 

You nod, getting to work on boiling the water on the stove. Your hatred of Pero fades a little since you’ve managed to talk to him and you still don’t understand his apparent dislike of anyone and anything American. When he comes back, you are a little chilly and you pour the brewed tea. “Do you like milk or no?” You ask, wondering how the Spaniard likes his tea.

His nose curls and he shakes his head. “No milk.” He insists. “I cannot have it.” His sensitive stomach was something that made William laugh but milk curdled on him. It was not pleasant and he didn’t want to risk it. “Please.” He adds when he remembers that manners are important to Americans.

You nod, setting the cup of tea down on the kitchen counter for him. "It's not poisoned." You tease, "although it was tempting." Tovar scoffs and picks up the cup, taking a sip. "So...what brought you to Ireland?" You ask, curious and nosey despite knowing you risk him shutting down on you.

“My friend.” He shrugs, looking down at the cup and then back up at you. “You can actually make a cup of tea that's not shit.” He grunts, knowing that is a compliment from him. “He lived here and I wanted a change so I came and decided to stay.” 

You don't push him, sensing there's more to it and you don't want to risk your newfound ceasefire. "Fair enough. I wanted a change too." You confess and lean against the counter with your cup. "I got tired of the hustle bustle living in the city...it was exhausting."

“You won’t find that here.” Pero promises, pulling his hammer out to start prying the broken piece of wood off the frame. “Unless you count when Garvin’s sheep get out and run amok in your vegetable garden.” He snorts. “Nell, his favorite, never fails to end up walking into the pub like she’s gonna order a pint.” 

You chuckle, "she sounds like a riot." Pero snorts, "a handful." You watch him work, his broad back muscles moving and you bite your lip, suddenly attracted to him. He's been an asshole but you think he's sexy in a mysterious asshole way. "You like it here." You observe, a statement more than a question.

“It’s quiet.” He shrugs slightly, not willing to admit that he’s found more peace here than he had when he returned to his ‘home’ in Spain. “I like quiet. Most are bored to death by it, but there's a tranquility in a slower pace of life.” 

"Sounds like a little piece of heaven." You sigh, cradling the cup of tea in your palms. "Quiet is underrated. People want to live fast but I want to stop and smell the roses...take my time with life. Sorry...too many goddamn cliches." You scoff at yourself.

“People say that, but then they get pissed when there’s no new clubs to go to or activities that aren’t for ‘old people’.” He rolls his eyes and grunts as he measures the wood. “I should go get a piece to replace this and grab that door.” 

You nod, “sure.” You don’t question him anymore or ask anymore questions, deciding to focus on starting a fire to ward off the chilly fall air especially since the door is open. You’re bending over the fireplace when Pero comes back in but you don’t hear him as you remain bent over as you poke the kindling.

Pero frowns, watching you poke at the fire. “You-” He huffs and sets the wood down and walks over to the fireplace. “You’re smothering the fire.” He tells you, taking the poker out of your hand. “It’s not like a wood fire. Peat is finicky, but it burns longer.” 

You want to roll your eyes at him as he tries to tell you how to start the fire. Tired of men explaining shit to you at work, you stand up and let him take over with a huff. “I know how to start a fire. Did it enough times back home. God, you really can’t let people make mistakes, can you?” You ask, confused about why he’s so critical all the time.

Pero snorts and shakes his head. “If you want your cottage to be full of smoke, be my guest.” He snarks back at you, waiting to see if you will take over again. When you don’t, he kneels down and reaches into the fireplace. Pulling out the kindling and the hunks of peat to restack them and pulling his lighter out of his pocket. 

You watch him with intrigue, noticing his strong jawline as he clenches his jaw in concentration. You observe what he does and you take notes for when you start another fire. The hearth is soon full of warmth and Tovar stands up, wiping his hands on his pants. “Thank you.” You tell him, placing your hand on his arm, “sorry I- I’m not good at not being good at things.” You admit softly.

“Don’t worry about it.” He huffs out a small laugh. “Took your grandmother nearly a month of freezing to accept my offer to help her with the chimney.” He has to admit that you seem like you are self-sufficient. Strong-willed. 

You chuckle, “she was stubborn. My dad got that from her. Guess I did too.” You sigh and bite your lip as you lower your hand from his arm. “It’s too damn cold to mess around being that stubborn.” You confess, “even I can admit that.”

“Well, the new door will keep out the wind better and with a good peat fire, your cottage will be nice and cozy.” He promises. “Irish winters aren’t warm, but there is a beauty to them.”

“So I’ve heard. I’m not sure if I’ll be here long enough to see its full beauty. I haven’t decided what I’m gonna do.” You confess and cross your arms, watching as Tovar continues working on the door. “You’re from Spain?” You guess from his accent.

“Sí.” He frowns as he fits the wood in and marks it with the pencil he tucked behind his ear to trim a small sliver off. He grabs his hacksaw and looks up at you. “Seville originally.”

“I’ve never been to Spain. I’ve heard it’s gorgeous. And I think they used Seville for some Game of Thrones locations. There’s so many places I haven’t been that I want to go to.” You sigh, leaning back against the counter. “You must’ve been a lot of places, having such easy access to Europe.”

“It is not hard to travel.” He admits. “But your country is larger than all of Europe combined.” He had been amazed when he had come over to meet his ex’s family. “The flights are short if you want to go on a holiday.”

You shrug, “and expensive as hell. Two hundred bucks average for a flight to another state and nothing as old as what Europe has to offer. I am thinking I might travel to Germany or Austria. Check out the Christmas markets.” You admit, “I miss home but I needed a change.”

“Sounds like more than an inherited house brings you over the pond.” Pero finishes cutting the piece and fits it back into the frame, grunting happily when it fits snugly. He nails it in place as he waits for you to answer him.

You sigh, “I wasn’t happy. I was working twelve hour days. Going on endless first and second dates but couldn’t find a man ready to commit. I was working hard to pay my rent but had nothing left to enjoy myself and I- I got sick of the rat race. I needed to leave the city before it killed me. That kind of life…it gets to you eventually. The loneliness.” You mutter, glancing over at the fire.

He snorts, having no problem being alone himself, but that was after the betrayal. Before then, he had imagined spending the rest of his life with his ex. “If you're alone, only you can disappoint yourself.” He tells you, knocking the last nail in place and starting to take the door off the hinges.

You sense there’s more to his words than he’s letting on but you ignore it, sipping your tea while he works on the door. It doesn’t take him long to get the new one swinging and he adjusts the lock. “There you go, señorita. A new door.” He announces and you snort, “least you could do since you’re the one who tore it off its hinges.”

“It was a shit door.” He grumbles, rubbing the back of his neck before he bends down and picks up his tool box. “Next time I’ll knock to scare away potential thieves.” He tells you before he nods. “Thanks for the tea.” He murmurs before stepping out and closing the door behind him. He had lost a few hours of work fixing your door and now he needs to get back to it.

You huff as he shuts the door behind him, not even saying goodbye and you glance over at the fire. Just when you thought he could be a decent person to talk to, he shuts up again. “Whatever.” You mutter to yourself and get ready to settle in on the sofa to read before you go to bed. You’re not here to be friends with Tovar. You’re here to find yourself.

****

Over the next few days, Pero keeps busy. His home is still a work in progress, the addition done poorly so he’s having to redo a lot of it. Helping William out on his farm when he needs. Keeping busy and keeping his mind off the neighbor. Sure, he’s checked on the cottage when he’s outside or looking out those windows, but he doesn’t make any effort to speak to you again, knowing that you’re nothing but trouble. 

Your days are filled with exploring the village and then working remotely in the afternoon. You’ve actually never felt so at peace. You don’t see Tovar, which is a blessing in disguise. The man still rubs you the wrong way but you find yourself thinking about those brown eyes…even when they are narrowed in hatred towards you. You close your laptop, glancing out at the beautiful sky. It’s cloudy today but still gorgeous so you decide to go for a walk, explore the area some more. After putting on your boots and coat, you lock up the cottage and get started on your exploration.

Pero grumbles at the sky, loading his truck to go help William with the roof of his barn. Wanting to get it done before the rains came again. He gets behind the wheel and starts down the road towards his farm. Traveling about a mile before he sees a figure walking along the wrong side of the road. He scoffs and shakes his head, knowing exactly who it is. Slowing down, he rolls down his window and sticks his head out. “You’re gonna get wet.” He shouts. “Go home.”

You turn your head to see Tovar and you shake your head, looking up at the sky. “Only woman to get wet around you in a while, huh?” You tease with a smirk and he huffs, gripping the steering wheel. “Fine. If you want to get rained on.” You nod, “all part of the experience.” You tell him, “the Irish way of life.”

Pero snorts. “Crazy Americans.” He huffs, handing his hand out the window as he drives past you. You’ll learn. Your coat isn’t enough for the rain that is coming and you will look like a drowned rat if you get caught out in it.

You are stubborn. Something your mother told you was just like your father. Much to her annoyance. You continue walking after Tovar drives off and the wind starts to pick up. You shiver, pulling your coat tighter around you and you look up at the sky as the rain clouds come in. "Bastard." You curse Tovar for being right as you decide to head back to the village.

The last piece of roofing was being nailed into place when the first splatters of rain hit Tovar’s back. “Mierda.” He hisses, glancing up and wincing when a droplet hits him in the eye. 

“Good thing we finished. It’s gonna be a blustery one for sure.” William agrees, wiping his forehead and shoving his hammer back into his tool belt. “You should go home. The sheep will come back and file into their barn quickly and I’m gonna shower and build my fire up.” He tells his friend. “You should do the same.”

You shiver as the rain comes down and you struggle to get back to cottage. The wind is strong and pushing you back as you try to get back as the rain pelts at your face. You curse Tovar for being right. You wish you had gotten a ride.

The rain is coming down in sheets, making it nearly impossible to see in front of the truck as Pero makes his way back to his cottage. He has to admit that he had gotten busy and didn’t look for you like he had thought to. Surely you had turned back and was cozy and warm in your cottage. He believes that until he damn near hits you. Swerving and nearly running off the road to keep from killing you because you’re walking in the damn middle. Cursing, Pero slams out of the truck, instantly drenched by the downpour. “Are you out of your fucking mind?” He yells, running up and grabbing your arms.

Your teeth are chattering so hard you can barely speak as Tovar grabs you and drags you into his van. You shake so hard your vision is blurry as the windscreen wipers work overtime. He slams the door shut and drives towards the village, cursing that he's soaking wet and you know you're both going to get sick from this chill.

The heater in his little lorry barely works, but Tovar blasts it, pointing the vents towards you. “Idiot.” He hisses. “You should have your pants pulled down and your ass whipped until you cannot sit.” He wipes his face and presses the gas, needing to get you home and out of those soaked clothes. “I told you to go home, but you’re too fucking pig-headed to listen.”

Your teeth chatter but you manage to say “fu-fuck you. I- I was on the way home.” You tell him and place your hands closer to his air vents. You desperately want the heat to seep into your bones and you shiver as Tovar races to your cottage.

“You would have already been home if you had listened to me.” He reminds you, taking one hand off the wheel to start shrugging out of his coat. It’s damp, but it has to be warmer than what you have on. “Stubborn Americans who think they know it all.” 

You gasp, inhaling the warm air from the heater. "Wha- what th- the hell is wrong with - why the fu- fuck do you hate Am- Americans?" You ask him, still shaking. You watch as he hands his coat to you. "Put this on." He growls and you don't argue, wrapping his coat around you.

Pero whips his van into the small spot that is closest to your cottage and hisses a curse as he jumps out to run around to your door. Knowing that he needs to get you inside as quickly as possible. Get a fire started and get you stripped out of those clothes. Yanking your door open, he drags you out of the seat and tries to shield you from the rain as much as possible. You are shaking violently and he knows you’re close to, if not already, hypothermic. “Inside.” 

You nod, letting him take you inside. You didn’t lock the cottage - having heard from the villagers that nothing happens - so Pero shuffles you inside and immediately starts to strip off the coats. You should be embarrassed and angry that he’s stripping clothes off of you but you’re so freezing you don’t care. You shiver and he helps you out of your boots. “Wh-why are you doing this?” You ask, watching him as he leaves you in your soaking wet jeans to work on getting the fire going.

“You could die.” He spits, his hands working quick and steady as he stacks the peat and kindling to light. He needs to get you warm and dry as fast as he can. The damp chill could have you sick with pneumonia within a day if you aren’t careful. As soon as the tender starts to smoke, he turns towards you and unbuttons his flannel shirt. Body head is needed. Stomping off towards your bedroom, he strips the quilts and blankets off of it before coming back into the main room. “Can you take your clothes off, or do I need to do it?” 

Your eyes widen at his broad chest as he comes back into the living room with the blankets. You nod, teeth still shattering as you work on removing your wet clothes until you are in your underwear, wrapping your arms around yourself. “Sur-surprised you - you care so much.” You choke out, still freezing cold.

He grunts, rolling his eyes and nearly tells you that he doesn’t care but that wouldn’t be truthful. He doesn’t want to find another member of your family dead. He spreads a blanket on the floor in front of the fire and pushes you towards it. “Lay down.” He orders, immediately starting to strip off the rest of his clothes, including his underwear. He knows you might be prudish like most Americans, but when you are trying to warm up, you can't wear any wet clothes and your panties look soaked. He ignores your gasp and drops to his knees, gathering the rest of the blankets at his back and reaches for your panties, pulling at them to take them off and they shred apart in his hands. 

You gasp, knowing you should push him away but when he pulls you close, into his body, into his warmth, you shudder and inhale deeply. Feeling the sensations come back into your body as you give in and curl around him. Breathing him in, you lift your leg over his, trying to get even closer to him, seeking his warmth.

His hands start rubbing, massaging heat and feeling back into your body. He thinks about anything but the softness of your breasts pressed against him. Knowing that if it weren’t for this serious situation, you would not be naked in his arms. “You’ll get warm.” He promises, feeling you shake and your teeth chatter. Your body is like ice and he shudders slightly as he transfers his heat to you under the weight of the blankets. 

You breathe him in, thankful for him showing up to save you even if you’ve not gotten along so far. His hands rubbing all over your back and you eventually relax, the shivering stopping as you warm up. You kiss his chest, silently thanking him for finding you even if you can’t vocalize that right now as you curl around him, seeking his warmth.

He knows you will get sleepy, it’s your body’s way to try to recover from the energy it had expelled to try to keep you warm. “Go to sleep, espléndida.” He murmurs quietly. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re safe.” He knows that he can’t pull away right now. Even though you are warmer, you still need more of his body heat to fully warm up. 

You mumble into his chest, listening to his beating heart as you fall asleep in his grip, feeling safe despite the man curled around you being insufferable in every interaction you’ve had. You aren’t sure how long you’ve been asleep when you wake up alone, the blankets wrapped around you, the fire roaring and you hear noise coming from the tiny kitchen. “What - Tovar?” You croak, wondering where he went.

His boxers on his hips, Pero appears in the doorway as soon as you call him. “Wait.” He orders, not wanting you to get up. Disappearing again and within seconds, he is coming back into the room with a tray. It was one your grandmother had often served him tea on, so he was familiar with it. Your cup of tea is in addition to a mug of soup. You need something warm in you. The hearty stew was one that your grandmother had canned two years ago, so he knew the rich broth would be good. 

You sit up, keeping the blanket tight to your chest as he carries the tray over and he has his boxers on. Shit, he’s attractive. More than that…he’s hot. Really hot. You swallow harshly, throat dry as he sets the tray down in front of you. “Thank you.” You tell him, looking at him as he sits down next to you. “This is - you poison it?” You tease softly, voice a little raw from the cold wind you breathed in earlier.

He snorts and shakes his head. “Not poisoned.” He huffs. “I just saved your life, why would I poison you?” He asks, picking up the tea and handing it to you. “It’s got honey and lemon in it, your throat will be raw.” He murmurs, blowing on the steaming liquid slightly before he hands it off. 

You take it, your fingers brushing his, and you moan softly as the tea soothes your sore throat. “I- I don’t really know how to start saying thank you for saving my life. I would’ve frozen out there. I didn’t think the storm would come in so quick.” You confess, watching him as the flames and shadows flicker over his face. “I guess I can start by saying thank you.” You say after taking another sip.

“You’re welcome.” Pero is slightly surprised that there’s no sarcasm in your statement. “Almost ran to my house to get some whiskey to pour in it, but it’s still raining outside.” He tells you, the rain beating against the windows. “So, it’s not quite as good as it could be. But I made you some stew.” 

You set the tea down and pick up the mug of broth, taking a sip and you groan. “You made this?” You ask and he shakes his head. “Your grandmother. She made it. Canned it a couple of years ago. She gave me some jars.” He reveals and your eyes widen as you look down at the cup in your hands, “I wish I could’ve known her better.” You sigh, “she seemed like a great woman. I- I’m writing a book about her. That’s why I came here. She fell in love with Ireland and I’m writing a romance novel based on her life.” You confess, “her grand escape to Ireland after divorcing her husband.”

He’s surprised by that, lifting his brows and humming. “A romance?” He should scoff, but he can’t manage the sound to come out of his throat. “I guess Ireland would be a romantic place to escape. If you’re looking for that.” 

You sip your broth before you look at him. “I must admit I had my wild fantasies dreaming about meeting a handsome man in Ireland and shacking up in a cottage to love our lives away but I- I know that’s - it’s silly.” You shake your head, “especially when I literally bumped into you and you hate Americans.”

“You would hate Spaniards if your ex was one.” Pero tells you. “Especially if he had cheated on you. Even though he would be an idiot to cheat.” 

You frown, setting the broth mug down. “You think…your ex was American?” You ask, confused and curious. “And she - shit - she cheated on you?”

Pero sighs, looking out the window. “Sí.” He murmurs. “We were- I met her when we were both stationed on the same base in Iraq. She was with the Americans, I was with …anyway,” he shakes his head. “We got married. She was pregnant. They made her leave her military position and we went to Spain.” He blows out a sigh. “And I found out later that she was cheating on me and the baby wasn’t even mine.”

You inhale sharply, “shit. I- I'm so sorry. That's - Wow. What a shitty thing to do. It’s - that’s monstrous. I’m so sorry Tovar-” You ramble and he cuts you off. “Pero. My first name is Pero.” He says and you nod, “Pero.” You say softly, “I’m sorry that happened to you. No one deserves that. Is that why…why you hate me? Because of my accent? My homeland?”

“She was just as stubborn as you are. Always right and having to have her way.” He shrugs. “I guess that I just don’t like women right now.” He admits after a moment. “I gave my heart to that woman and she tried to pass off the proof of her infidelity as my child.” He growls.

You shake your head, shifting closer to him to reach for his hand. “I’m sorry that happened to you, Pero. No one deserves that. I - I can understand why I triggered that anger in you. That’s unforgivable and I’m sorry someone did that to you.”

That bastard William had told him that you weren’t his ex. Pero rubs his cheek. “It’s not your fault.” He admits quietly. “You aren’t her and I shouldn’t have been an asshole to you,”

You sigh, letting go of his hand, “and I shouldn’t have been a bitch but I’ve never been good at people not giving me a chance.” You confess and sip your tea. “Can we start again?” You ask and he stares at you so you set your cup down, holding out your name. You introduce yourself, “and you are?” You ask, offering him a playful smile.

He grunts, watching you for a moment. “Pero Tovar.” He tells you. “Grumpy asshole from Spain.”

You chuckle, “great to meet you, grumpy asshole from Spain who saved my life.” You add and he shakes your hand. You stare at him, your smile fading as his grip on your hand is tight, reluctant to let go. You keep holding his hand, your eyes searching his as you keep the blankets close to your chest to keep you covered up until you let it drop, exposing your skin to his eyes.

Pero’s eyes widen and drop down to your breasts for a moment before he jerks his gaze back up to your face. “Hermosa….” He grunts, confused as to why you are showing him your body. “You don’t owe me anything.” He promises.

You nod, "I know. I- I'm not saying thank you. Well, I am. But not like that. I - I think you're handsome." You confess, "...sexy." You add and he frowns softly. "If you don't..." You trail off and reach to pull the blankets up your body, standing up on shaky legs. "Do you want a drink? I think my grandma had a bottle of brandy." You make your way into the kitchen, blanket wrapped around your body.

He thinks he’s embarrassed you and he doesn’t want that. He can’t deny you’re beautiful and he had been fighting an erection the entire time you were asleep once you were warm. Standing up, Pero pulls off his boxers and follows you into the kitchen to find you standing at your grandmother’s drink cabinet. “Do you want me to touch you, hermosa?” He asks, bracing his arms on the counter and trapping you against it,  his lips close to your ear. “You are a beautiful woman, and I would enjoy finding out what makes you shake in pleasure.”

You whimper, unable to control the shiver that runs along your spine as he hovers behind you. You want him to touch you. He's been a bastard but you would be dead if it weren't for him. You understand now why he was antagonized by you and you forgive him for his barbs. You lean back against him after letting the blanket drop from your body. "I want you to touch me." You whisper, turning your head to look at him, your lips brushing his chin.

“I’m not gentle.” He warns, knowing that it’s been too long since he has touched anyone and he’s not a suave lover like Garin claims to be. He slides his hand up to grab your breast and squeezes the flesh.

“I don’t need gentle. I don’t want gentle.” You tell him, covering his hand over your breast and you squeeze a little harder. “I want you.” You add, kissing his jaw.

Pero growls, his hardening cock pressing against your ass. “Drop the blanket.”  He orders, pulling you away from the counter and dragging you towards the main room. If he’s going to touch you, it will be in front of that fire so you stay warm. 

You follow his order, nearly tripping over the blanket as he guides you into the living room and you whimper as he lays you down on the blankets you still have piled near the fire. You lay down, waiting for him to touch you as he kneels down near you. “Pero.” You whisper, biting your lip as you wait for him to make the first move.

He watches you for a moment before he lunges forward, his lips smashing against yours in a hard kiss. Covering your body with his and pushing your thighs apart with his knee to settle between them. Groaning into your mouth at the taste of you as his hands fill themselves with your breasts and hips.

You moan into his mouth, your hands caressing his back as he kneels over you, his hands squeezing your flesh. His tongue slides into your mouth and you eagerly grant him access with a low groan of his name muffled against your lips. Your hands slide down to his ass, squeezing and bringing him closer so his cock is pressing against your thigh.

Pero rocks against your thigh, groaning and pinching your nipple harshly. Kissing down your throat and biting down on your shoulder before he ducks his head and sucks your nipple into his mouth to bite.

"Fuck." You hiss in pleasure as he grinds against you and sucks on your nipple, paying it attention until you are swapping over to suck on the neglected one. "Shit baby." You pant, reaching between you to wrap your fingers around his thick cock.

Pero groans at the feel of your hand. It’s been so long since he’s felt any touch but his own. His cock twitches and his hips buck into your grip. He lavishes attention on you, loving the way you moan.

You twist your arm, trying to jerk him off as he surrounds you, the spicy scent of his skin combined with the smoke from the fire he started. Your free hand slides through his hair as he kisses the skin below your breast and you whimper, getting wetter with each kiss.

Pero is a harsh lover, he bites and scratches and fucks hard, but he’s also attentive. He wants his partner to feel good. To drown in him. Scattering bites over your skin, he works his way south, nipping your hip bone. “When was the last time you were devoured, hermosa?” He demands, cutting his dark gaze back up to your face.

Your chest heaves as you look into his dark eyes, hungry with desire for you and you don't remember the last time you were devoured. You shake your head, "I- too long ago. My ex...he didn't - he didn't do that." You confess breathlessly.

Pero snorts, shaking his head at your worthless ex. “Then you will remember this.” He promises. His tongue slides around your hip bone, dragging across your stomach as he settles his broad shoulders between your thighs and pushes them up to rest there. Making a show of settling in to look down at you glistening cunt. “Such a pretty cunt too.” He smirks, looking up at you again as he lowers his mouth to your folds and winking right before he dives in.

"Shit!" You squeak, thighs clenching against his head in surprise as he licks into you like a man starved. "Pero." You gasp as he flattens his tongue against your clit until he decides to suck it between his lips. Your hands tangle in his hair as you slump back to look up at the wooden beams on the ceiling.

He loves eating a woman out. Loves her taste and the way she responds to his touch and effort to make her scream. His fingers slide around your entrance for a moment and then he buries two down to the knuckle and curls up inside you.

You cry out as his thick fingers curl inside of you. Making you moan his name loud enough for the entire village to hear as you buck your hips into his face. His free hand slides up to squeeze your breast and your hand covers his, eyes squeezed shut as he laps at your clit.

Groaning into your cunt, he samples you. Tastes you like you are the finest whiskey or his precious Spanish wines. Pumping his fingers inside you to find the spot that makes your body spasm in pleasure and growling when he finds it

"Fuck. Oh shit!" You hiss, walls fluttering around his digits as he curls them to find that spot that makes you moan. Your chest heaving as you tangle your fingers in his hair, pushing him further into your cunt. "So- yes. There. Cl-close." You pant, stomach clenching.

He growls, sucking your clit in his mouth and pulling on it harshly, before he twirls his tongue around it and starts to flick his tongue over the little bundle of nerves. Pumping his fingers into you faster and harder, wanting to see how hard you break.

You fall apart within seconds. “Oh my fuck - fuck!” You squeal as you clamp down on his fingers, soaking them as you cum for the first time in a long time. Nearly pulling his hair out as you cry out.

He snarls, lapping at you faster and pushing his fingers deeper when you start to cum. Feeling you soak his face as his cock throbs against the blanket on the floor. Working and pushing you through your orgasm with the determination of a man possessed.

He pushes you higher until you have to push his head away, overstimulated, and you feel like your body is on fire from his attentions. “Fuck, I- Pero. I need you.” You beg, “let me - I need you inside of me.”

He grunts, smirking as he crawls up your body. Aching to push inside you and feel those tight walls squeezing his cock like they had his fingers.

You grab the back of his neck when he’s hovering over you to drag him down to kiss him. Your tongue slides against his to taste yourself on his mouth. You reach down to grip his cock again, pumping him as you kiss him.

Pero groans your name into your mouth, almost like a plea. Rocking his hips into your hand and lowering down so you can guide him in. When you notch him at your entrance, he bites your bottom lip as he drills his cock deep into your wet cunt.

You moan into each other’s mouth as he pushes deep in one thrust, making you cling to him as he stretches you out. He’s thick and you are certain you’ll feel him tomorrow if he’s as rough as he claims to be. You wrap your legs around him, the blankets crumpling up beneath you as he starts to move.

Pero doesn’t hesitate. Bracing his hands on the floor beside you, he starts pounding into you at a rough, hard pace. Feeling your walls giving with every deep thrust as he drives himself into you over and over, groaning over how well you are taking him. “Mierda.”

He’s rough and takes what he wants but fuck, you love it. You whine, throwing your head back and he wastes no time leaning in to bite down on the skin above your pulse. Your walls clench around him every time he pushes deep and hits something devastating inside you that no one else has found. “Pero. Shit. Oh God. I- it’s so good.” You almost vibrate as you speak, shaken by his thrusts.

Hissing, he tries to hang onto his control. Feeling it slip as he continues to rock into you. You're so fucking good and it has been the best sex he's had in ....ever. Not even his ex felt like you do. Dropping down to his elbows, he shoves his hands under your back and starts biting along your shoulder, leaving imprints of his teeth with every piercing thrust of his cock.

Each bite on your skin has you clenching around him and you struggle to maintain control until you give in. Whines escape your lips as his pelvis drops into just the right position that he’s grinding against your clit and your heels dig into his ass. “I’m gonna - oh fuck. Pero. Pero!” You cry out, clamping down on his cock and practically shaking beneath him as you soak him with your orgasm.

The shout Pero lets out is hoarse and rough, pushing deep and grinding even deeper for a split second before he is ripping free of your cunt. Panting as he realized he had not spoken with you about birth control and he could not risk filling you up. Coating your belly, breasts and thighs with ropes of his hot seed as he spits out another curse.

You pant, watching him as he pumps his cock to paint you with every drop of seed that drips from his body. His chest heaving and you stare up at him in awe. He’s incredible and you know that all your previous fighting means nothing compared to this perfect moment of bliss. “You- you could’ve cum inside me. I’m on birth control.” You tell him breathlessly, knowing it’s too late now.

“Shit.” Pero hisses, huffing slightly and dropping his head against your shoulder. “I didn’t- we hadn’t- fuck.” He grumbles, rolling off to the side and onto his back to reach off his undershirt to wipe your skin clean.

You watch him clean you up and you turn onto your side to look at him, “it’s okay. Maybe next time you could…?” You trail off, biting your lip as you wait for his reaction. Unsure if there will be a next time.

Pero smirks and nods. “Next time.” He agrees, tossing the shirt off to the side and rubs a hand down your side. “How are you feeling?”

You hum, closing your eyes with a smile on your face. “Better. A lot better. I’m warm and satisfied and - thank you again for rescuing me.” You say as you open one eye to look at him, “you’re not too bad for a grumpy asshole.” You smirk, closing your eyes again.

He snorts, rolling his eyes and sighing, “you’re not bad.” He admits. “For an American.” He adds, smirking himself as he moves his arm and nudges you slightly, seeing if you want to curl against him.

You take the hint, shifting to curl into his side and he quickly pulls the blanket over you. You sigh, breathing him in and kiss his chest, exhausted again after his rigorous fucking. You’ve turned a corner with the Spaniard and you’re interested to see how things go from now on. 

**** 

The sunlight starts to shine through the windows of the cottage, the gap in the curtains letting in light that makes you wince as you wake up. “Pero.” You murmur, shifting to sit up and you pat the space beside you only to find the man you fell asleep with is gone. You frown, calling his name again and when there’s no response, you huff. Deciding to give him the benefit of the doubt, you stand on shaky legs and head upstairs to get ready for the day. Perhaps he had an early start.

“You slipped out of the house like a thief?” William shakes his head and frowns at his friend. “Why would you do that? She deserves better.” 

Pero huffs and rolls his eyes, shuffling guiltily as he looks up the road towards your cottage. “She’ll be going back to America.” He reminds the Irishman. “I don’t need to be getting myself involved in that mess.” 

William snorts, eyeing Pero suspiciously. “I’ve never known you to turn down pleasure. A fling of some kind. Unless you like her more than you are admitting.” Pero scowls again and shuffles, not answering.

It’s been a couple of days since you’ve seen him, which is an accomplishment in the tiny village. You are in the grocery store when old man Sawyer tells you about the village fete. “It’s the harvest festival. In the church hall. There’ll be food and booze of course.” He winks and you chuckle, wondering if Pero would be there. It’s unlikely as he doesn’t like people. “Maybe I’ll see you there.” You tell the older man as you pay for your groceries. “See you there.” He says with a chuckle and you take your bags, pondering if you’ll go to the fete. 

You decide later that you won’t hide away so you get dressed and make your way over to the church hall, shrugging off your coat once you’re inside and there’s music from the local band of teenagers and various tables with food and drinks. You immediately feel eager to mingle. That is until you look around to see Pero standing there with William, his dark eyes focused on you.

“Go talk to her.” William shoves at Pero’s arm, making him stumble. 

Turning, he glares at his best friend. “Amigo….” He growls, warning him not to mess with him tonight. He’s been busy trying to avoid you and here you are, looking prettier than ever. 

“If you don’t, someone else will.” William warns him.

You avert your eyes, pissed off he didn’t even come to see you after he slept with you. You walk over to the drinks table, greeting Gladys who lives down the road from you and she hands you a cup of hot cider. “How are you dearie?” She asks and you sigh, “confused.” You confess and she frowns, “what?” You shake your head, “I’m good, Gladys.” You tell her and she smiles at you, nodding until her gaze shifts to behind you. You turn your head to look and your eyes meet Pero’s. “Hi.” You murmur, fingers flexing around the cup.

Pero looks at you for a moment, studying the anger in your eyes and he feels guilty, guilty for avoiding you. “You’re still here.” That’s what he comes up with to answer you. Hating it the moment it comes out of his mouth, but he won’t take it back.

You stare at him for a second, “I’m still here.” You observe, glancing around the room until your eyes meet his again. “So…you've been busy?” You ask, a little sarcastic but you’ve never been known to be timid, especially when it comes to men who run away from your bed.

“Busy enough.” He grunts, not sure why he even came over. You don’t seem happy to see him at all, not that he can blame you. It’s not like he’s gone out of his way to check in after the other day. He had convinced himself that you still hated him, and had run with it.

You nod, "busy enough to not even stay for a cup of coffee?" You ask, raising your eyebrows at him, "or was it just pity? You felt sorry that I nearly froze to death and you decided to fuck me...or was it so you could brag to William? Tell him you tamed the bitch in Fairy Lodge?" You snort, keeping your eyes on his, refusing to look away.

Eyes widening, he glances over at Gladys to see if she is listening. Shame making his face burn, and in turn, pissing him off. “Nothing could tame you.” He snorts. “I’m not a magician.”

You chuckle, “clearly you are since you made yourself disappear.” You huff, taking a sip of the cider. “If you regretted it, you could’ve just come to see me and tell me that instead of leaving me to think I did something wrong or…or I wasn’t good enough.” You finish quietly.

The sound of your voice is what makes his anger deflate. “I- you’re leaving.” He murmurs quietly. “I - I’m not a casual lover. I don’t sleep around anymore.”

“I’m not gonna stick around and be treated like shit.” You snort, “I could go back to America and deal with American men if I wanted that.” You tell him, setting down the cup of cider just as the band starts to play.

Pero narrows his eyes, hating that you are comparing him to American men. He’s not a boy who plays games, but apparently that’s what he’s been doing with you. “Fine.” He grunts, grabbing your hand. “Let’s dance.”

You let him drag you onto the makeshift dance floor and there's a few elderly couples dancing but everyone has their eyes on you and Pero. "Everyone is looking at us." You murmur and he stares at you, not looking around. 

"Let them." He says, pulling you closer and you don't push him away. 

"You don't care?" You ask, keeping your eyes on him.

“Why would I?” He asks. “People stare because of my scar. They stare because I’m a mean looking bastard.” He shrugs, used to the looks. “Or they stare because I’m holding the prettiest girl here.”

You offer him a soft smile as he looks at you and you reach up to wrap your arms around his neck. "Your scar makes you look dangerous...and sexy. And you look grumpy...not mean. And you think you are not good enough but you are...and I- I wish you would let people in to see that." You finish, cutting your gaze across the room to see Gladys smiling at you and Pero dancing.

“I'm not the man you think I am.” Pero grumbles. “I have done a lot of shitty things, even to you.” He reminds you. He doesn’t want you to think he’s some white knight when he’s not.

You look at him again, “no one is perfect. Hell, you know I’m not. I know you’re not. But…but I think you are good deep down. You’re just hurt.” You murmur, “and I know why but I didn’t - we started off on the wrong foot. We were both mean to the other.”

“We should not fight.” Pero agrees, nodding. Even if he doesn’t feel like you know him enough to make that judgment, it’s nice to have someone besides William believe in him.

“I- I’m supposed to go back to America on Monday.” You tell him quietly, wondering if he will pack your bags for you to get you out of Ireland and away from him, from his mistake of rescuing you…sleeping with you.

“Oh.” Pero frowns and swallows harshly. Knowing that he’s wasted time that he could have been spending with you and quite possibly made this better than it had been. “Big plans back there?” He asks.

“Just work and…and I don’t have to go back. I can change my return flight…or cancel it…” You trail off, “unless you don’t want an American living here full time?” You test him, wondering what his reaction will be.

“You still don’t know how to make a fire worth a damn.” Pero tells you, watching your brows pull together in confusion. “It would be hard for you to learn over there. Bet you don’t even have a fireplace.”

You shake your head as he rocks you both to the beat. “I don’t. I wouldn’t be able to make a fire…I’d definitely forget. So…I think I need to stay to make sure I learn properly. Perhaps you could teach me?” You ask him quietly, preparing yourself for him to practically escort you back to the airport.

“It’ll take a long time.” He cautions, pulling you closer to him. “I’d probably need to check on the fires during the night. Make sure you don’t burn down your granny’s cottage.”

“What a gentleman.” You smile, tilting your head towards his, “I definitely think you’d need to check on them nightly. I don’t think anyone in the village wants a fire. So…it looks like I’m staying - for fire starting purposes only.” You tease, taking a chance to kiss his neck as you lean closer.

Pero groans at the light contact of your lips, turning his head and capturing your mouth in a kiss for everyone here to see. Not caring if they do and telling them all that he wants you. Claiming you in front of them so that there are no misconceptions about what he wants. You.

You cup his cheek, responding to the kiss, and you let everyone see that you are with him. The parishioners all stare and you smile against his mouth. “Come home with me.” You murmur when he pulls back but keeps his forehead against yours.

“Are you sure, hermosa?” He asks quietly, knowing that he had hurt you the last time he had slept with you.

You nod, “I’m sure. I want you to come home with me and show me how to start a fire.” You murmur, stopping as the song comes to an end and you let go of Pero to clap your hands, waiting for his answer.

Pero smirks, willing to take a risk with you when you are also taking a risk on him. Nodding, he motions towards your cottage. “Let’s go, I need to show you a lot of things if you’re going to live in Ireland.” He grunts. “Starting with how to properly leave a party.” It’s all the warning he gives you before he bends down, scooping you over his shoulder before marching off the dance floor with you like a medieval mercenary carrying off his kidnapped bride.

You squeal, giggling as he carries you out of the hall and you cling to him as he strides down the hall. “Where are we going?” You ask as you tilt your head and notice he’s not carrying you to your cottage. “My place.” He says and you are surprised but let him continue his journey, the wind whipping cool on your skin.

You've never been to his cottage, he's well aware of that. Marching down the road and not slowing down a bit. "Best place to start teaching you is where I am comfortable." He admits, slapping your ass. "Kept expecting your granny to come out and catch me with my ass showing."

You chuckle as he sets you down so he can unlock his door. You lean against the wall as he fumbles with his keys, “she definitely would’ve told you to put some pants on.” You tease and he finally opens the door, “and what’s my next lesson?” You inquire as he guides you inside and you see the masculine but cozy cottage he lives in.

He hadn't really thought much beyond taking you home. Getting you here. He hums, his own fire slowly smoldering and the inside of the cottage warm. "Temperature control." He decides. "What to do when it's too hot."

You smirk, licking your lips as you look at him, “and what do you do when it’s too hot.” He smirks back at you, “get naked.” You nod, slipping off your shoes and you work on the buttons of your dress. “I think that’s a smart idea.”

"It is." He grunts, taking off his jacket and then lifting his shirt over his head. "Getting too hot is just as bad as being too cold." He rolls his eyes towards you. "And you know how that feels."

You glare at him playfully and you shrug your dress off, letting it fall to the floor and you move to push your tights down but Pero scoops you into his arms. “I’m still hot.” You tell him, your arms wrapping around his neck.

"Yes, you are." He won't deny that, arms coming around you and sliding down your sides to your hips. "Your panties and bra are what's keeping you hot." He murmurs.

You giggle, “yes. They are.” You let him reach behind you to unclasp your bra as you caress his chest and you lean in to kiss his clavicle as he slides the bra down your arms. You squeal when he grabs your ass, lifting you over to his sofa and he lays you down on it. “Fuck. These need to go.” He growls, pushing your legs apart so he can grab the thin material of your pantyhose and he rips them, making you gasp and wet your panties in arousal.

"Oops." Pero snorts, not even slightly sorry about ripping your pantyhose. He never understands why women wear them, although he can understand under your dress since you are unused to the chill of the Irish weather. He grins and pulls them off your feed and tosses them aside. "Need to teach you to quit wearing that shit." He grunts. "Harder to get to you."

You giggle as he drags your panties down your legs and you spread your legs further apart once he tosses them over his shoulder to expose you to his hungry eyes. “Need to see you too.” You tell him, reaching down to unbuckle his belt.

"Yeah?" He lets you undo his belt, feeling like you want him and it's a thing to savor. It might be a fling, but the look in your eyes is telling him that he should trust that it will be more. "Taken with me?"

You scoff, “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t, Tovar.” You tell him, working on unbuttoning his pants after you toss the belt aside. You reach into his pants to pull his hard cock out, groaning as you get to see him properly. “I want to suck you off.” You tell him, meeting those dark eyes.

"You don't have to do that." Every blow job he's had in the last few years has been begrudgingly given. Complaints about sore jaws or him always wanting head. He had stopped asking for them, stopped her from giving them if she tried to initiate and it's almost like a reflex. Nothing that can be held over his head, until he takes your wrist and realizes what he's doing. "Uh...my ex..." he bites his lips. "She would always complain about it. Or use it to guilt me into something."

You scoff, “she sounds…wow. Lay down.” You order, pushing on his chest and he nods, shifting to lay down on the sofa and you straddle him. “Too Goddamn sexy for your own good. Definitely for my good.” You chuckle, leaning down to kiss him. You slide your tongue against his until you are kissing along his jaw, down his neck, and down his stomach until you reach his cock resting against his stomach. “I want to give you a blowjob. I want to make you feel good. For nothing in return.” You promise and take him into your hand, squeezing him as you look into his eyes as you press your tongue against the slit, tasting his pre-cum.

"Shit." Pero hisses, eyes fluttering closed for a moment before he opens them again. Needing to see you touch him. To see how eagerly you want to touch him. It's not all Americans that are horrible, it was his ex. She was a bad apple. He reaches down and cups your cheek. "Fuck baby," he pants, "So fucking pretty and sweet."

You hum around him as you take him deeper. Loving the way he groans and reaches down to caress your cheek. You love the way his jaw clenches and his cock twitches inside of you as you widen your jaw to take more of his length until he’s hitting the back of your throat and you gag, unused to giving head to a long cock like his.

"Pull off, hermosa." He urges, pulling your cheek up but you shake your head and continue to bob up and down on him. Making him groan as he feels the exquisite bliss of your mouth around him.

You want to make him feel good, look after him like he did looking after you when you nearly froze to death. You moan around him, caressing his chest and you bob your head a little faster.

"Hermosa...." he groans, feeling you starting to pull his orgasm out of him and he doesn't want to cum yet. He wants to make sure that you cum first. "Ride me." He begs quietly, twitching in your throat at the thought.

You won’t deny him. You pull off of his cock, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, and you straddle him. His cock pressing between your folds and you are soaking wet. You look down at him and his hands immediately find your tits. You lift up to position him at your entrance and you slowly sink down onto his cock.

"Mierda." He hisses, rocking his hips up to thrust up into you. Bouncing you slightly and sinking deeper into your tight cunt. "You are so pretty sitting on my cock."

“Not bad for an American?” You tease, starting to rock your hips on top of him. Your heart pounds in your chest as you look down at him and you know you couldn’t leave. Not with this unspoken thing between you. It’s not quite love but it feels like it could easily evolve into it. You lean down to kiss him, bracing your hands on the arm of the sofa behind his head.

He doesn't answer because he wouldn't even know how to answer. It's not because you are an American, but because you are just you. His hands slide up your sides and he holds the back of your head, deepening the kiss as you start to slide your tongue against his.

You rock back onto his cock, your tongue sliding against his and your hands tangle in his hair, moaning into his mouth as you find an angle that makes the head of his cock rub against your g-spot.

“Shiiiiiiiit.” His moan is muffled and he throbs inside you. Loving how you clench down around him and he squeezes your hip with his free hand.

You moan into his mouth, rocking back onto him and he slips out of you. You whine at the loss of pleasure but he reaches down to push himself back into you and you swivel your hips to find the same angle. You soon find it and rock back onto him, getting closer and closer to cumming.

“That’s it, hermosa.” He grunts out, leaning in to bite your shoulder. He lets go of your head, reaching down to start rubbing your clit. Wanting you to cum for him before he spills inside of you,

You whine when his fingers rub your clit just right and you are close. Grinding back onto his cock, trapping his hand between you, you get closer and closer until you cry out his name. “Fuck!” You choke, clamping down on his cock as you soak him with your orgasm.

"Perfecto." He groans, rocking his hips up and driving his cock deeper into you as he takes over. Letting you collapse against his chest as he wraps both arms around you and fucks you through, chasing his own orgasm. Panting out your name as he thrusts one last time, burying his cock deep as he paints your walls with his cum.

You whimper, kissing his jaw as he pants into your ear. “Cum for me, Pero. Cum. Wan- wanna feel it.” You beg, grinding back to try and egg him on as his cock twitches inside of you.

You moan, loving how it feels to have him paint your walls with his hot seed, silently thanking your IUD as he pulses deep. You kiss along his jaw, “feels so good.” You pant, relaxing on top of him.

"Stay." He murmurs, panting as he tries to catch his breath. "I want you to stay, hermosa." He presses his lips to yours again. "I want to be grumpy to everyone else. Not you."

You nod, pressing your lips to his again. “I’ll stay. All you had to do was ask. I’ll stay and I want to see where this goes.” You tell him, kissing his chin. “You’re a grumpy bastard but you’re my grumpy bastard.” You tease, caressing his cheek. You never imagined you’d come to Ireland and find the man you spend the rest of your life with but you have and you don’t know it yet but you have a beautiful life ahead of you with Pero in Fairy Lodge.

​​

​​

[pedrito-friskito]

the warrior and the witch - part one

summary: tucked away in a quiet village that constantly questions your true nature, pero tovar stumbles his way into your life, and you are both quick to realize that things will truly never be the same.

warnings: a decent amount of worldbuilding/exposition, this is not even slightly a slow burn, depictions of magic (is that a warning? idk), canon-typical violence, blood, cursing, oral (f receiving), unprotected p-in-v (wrap ur shit), Pero Tovar is a warning all his own cuz fuck me

a/n: the first of the autumn adventures! I’m having so much fun writing these already, and this one has sparked something magical in me let me tell U 🧡 and huge thanks 2 my sweet sil @psychedelic-ink for beta-ing this for me and hyping (and feeding) my pero obsession 🧡

🍂kay’s autumn adventures🍂 PART TWO PART THREE

There were whispers about you from the very first day.

It didn’t shock you — nothing did, truly — and you traversed the gossip as you always had: by ignoring it. People ducked across the cobblestones when they saw you coming, refused to meet your eye as you walked through the square, murmured nasty rumours that often made you snicker to yourself.

I hear she killed her last husband. Poisoned him and used his body for her potions. Wretch.

You see that scar on her cheek? A bear. She cursed a man who spurned her and turned him into a beast! What a bitter woman she must be.

You know she’s actually thousands of years old? These witches don’t age like us normal folk. It’s unnatural.

Wretch. Bitter. Unnatural. The taunts were endless, and though you weren’t surprised by the words, and did your best not to take stock in them, they lurked overhead like a looming storm, pricking at the back of your neck like the static that comes just before lightning strikes. It’s not the first place you haven’t felt welcome, but that’s besides the point.

Taunts and names thrown your way each day, and yet, when one of the more soft-spoken women of the village came knocking on the door of your cottage one night, tears on her face and blood on her lips, you didn’t hesitate. The smithy’s wife, you’d often seen her by the fountain in the square, doing her washing with the other wives, a small boy clinging to her skirts.

One look at her, and it was obvious that the smithy had a temper.

You tended to her wounds, bandaged her crushed fingers and wiped the red from her skin. You brewed the tea without question, gave her a warm bed to sleep in for the night, and refused to take her coin when she offered it the next morning.

“I don’t need your money,” you told her, returning her newly mended dress and cloak. You’d spent most of the night scrubbing the woman’s blood from the fabric. “Just your trust.”

She was grateful, you knew it to be true. She promised to tell the town how giving you had been, how safe she had felt in your home, how she was tended to and healed without question. You looked for her in the square the next day, but she was nowhere to be found. Not even two days later, and the smithy was empty, the entire family gone from the residence above the shop.

Of course, the town blamed you.

It was to the point where you considered leaving. It wouldn’t be the first time, nor would it be the last, but you were loathe to let them force you out. The cottage was comfortable; you’d made it so. It had been abandoned when up first arrived, but you’d felt the pull, known that your ancestors had once tread the land, that the foundations of the house was filled to burst with magical potential. The first night you’d arrived, you’d planted a single apple seed, pulled from a fruit you’d eaten somewhere along your journey.

When you woke the next morning, the tree was full grown, it’s branches laden with the sweetest apples you’d ever tasted. And curled up beneath the trunk, a small black cat with amber eyes, peering up at you, head tilted to the side and a curious chirp reaching your ears.

“Well, hello there.”

You couldn’t leave. Not yet. There was work to be done, something you were meant to do.

After the departure of the smithy, you were more of a pariah than before. The sneers and insults were darker, but you kept your ground. You were determined.

You sold your apples in the square, and the children of the town were your most loyal customers, darting up to your basket and tossing their silver coins at you before running away with their goodies. The cat, who you affectionately named Soot, always accompanied you, and some of the braver children would hang around, petting the cat’s soft fur and giggling when he offered loud purrs and happy meows.

When the seasons began to change, the heat of summer giving way to the chill of autumn, you started baking. Tarts and little pies with faces cut into the top, sprinkled with sugar and making your entire home smell like cinnamon. The children were overjoyed, and a few of the older folk grew curious. The tavern-keep even asked for your recipe.

It didn’t gain you their trust, not entirely. They still whispered, still warned newcomers not to travel past your cottage after dark, to make sure they always paid you in full for your goods if they were to buy from you. The smithy remained empty for a long time until a new man and his young family moved in and took over the shop.

You walked into the shop and requested a set of small knives, to replace the set you currently used for the herbs and plants you collected. The new smithy looked at you for a long moment, scrutinizing you beyond belief, and you found yourself holding your breath until his face softened.

“You know, you’re not nearly as terrifying as they make you out to be.”

You’d actually laughed, grinning at the man. “Good to know.”

You paid him more than he asked for the knives, agreed without question when he said it would take him three days to complete the set, and left one of the larger pies on the tabletop before you left the smithy, happier than you’d felt in a long time.

When you went back three days later, he greeted you with that same smile, and this time, his wife was standing there as well, as soot-covered as her husband, their grins almost identical.

“You must be the witch.”

You grinned back. “You must be the wife.”

It became a quick companionship. Her name was Lena, his was Tomas, their young boy Roland and their girl Wren. Lena was one of the most boisterous women you’d ever met, shouting her way around the smithy, often giving Tomas orders instead of receiving them. A stark contrast to the smithy’s wife that had appeared on your doorstep before the arrival of your new friends.

Lena ran the shop, essentially, and was endlessly curious about your…abilities. She peppered you with questions daily, and was always the first to buy apples or pastries when you arrived in the square.

“I don’t suppose you have a potion that would stop my hair turning grey, would you?”

You’d laughed initially, but the next time you stopped in to the smithy to have new shoes made for your horse, you slipped a small vial of dark liquid that smelled of chestnuts into her hand. “Two drops a day,” you said quietly, and tapped a finger to your head. “Just around the temples.”

Her jaw had dropped, and you’d stifled your chuckle.

You turned away any coin she offered, and in turn, she always did the same for you. Your mare was well taken care of, your knives sharper than ever, and when the chill started to come harder, she sent Tomas over to your cottage with bundles of firewood and two new cast iron pans. Roland came along as well, hiding behind his father’s leg when you offered a tart, Soot twining his way through the child’s legs as you packed up a bushel of apples to send back with them. “I think he likes you,” you commented, winking at the boy, and he blushed crimson, but crouched down and gave the cat plenty of pets before his father called him to leave.

“Oh, I’m meant to ask you,” Tomas said as you walked the dirt path from the cottage to the main road that led back towards the village. “Lena asked if you’d have supper with us at the tavern tomorrow. Her parents are visiting us, and they’ve agreed to watch over the children for the night.”

Soot had followed you out, chasing his new friend Roland down the path, and you laughed as the two zipped past, ruffling Roland’s hair as he went. “A night free of your children and you choose to spend it with the likes of me?” you asked, jesting, and Tomas went red. You touched his arm lightly. “I’m honoured. I wouldn’t miss it.”

And you haven’t, leaving the cottage again shortly after returning from your day in the square, your basket empty. Soot is less than happy to be left behind, perching in the window and yowling loudly as you close the door behind you, shaking your head at the silly creature when he paws at the glass.

The tavern is bustling with people, and you quickly spot Lena and Tomas in the corner, the table laden with large mugs of ale, a spot left open for you to sit. They greet you warmly, Lena getting to her feet and kissing your cheeks before letting you sit. The conversation comes easily, as it always does, the three of you chattering away, drinking your ale and ordering bowls of stew with hunks of bread. It’s a perfect evening, in good company, your chest warmed by the hearty food and ale.

Well, nearly perfect.

You get up from the table to supply the next round of ale, and a large shadow blocks your path.

“The fuck’re you doing here, witch?” a familiar gruff voice growls and you resist the urge to roll your eyes.

Of all the taunts and torments and dirty looks that still follow you around the village from time to time, Farrell has been the most persistent. You’ve had men despise you before, but the hatred that rolls of the man and coils towards you is more than emotion. It’s dark, the shadow that passes over you in his presence leaving a chill on your skin and a sickly taste in the back of your mouth. It looms like a snake, poised to attack, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

Your grip on the glass in your hand grows tighter, and you grit your teeth, electing to ignore him, trying to side-step the large man to reach the bar, but a rough hand grips your shoulder.

“I asked you a question, bitch. You’re no’ welcome here.”

“Oh, that’s very clever of you, Farrell,” you spit, already fed up, your words fuelled mostly by the buzz of ale in the back of your mind. A dangerous thing, for a witch. More dangerous for the man daring to lay hands on you. “The witch and the bitch. You even made it rhyme, how charming.”

In a flash, your back slams into the wall of the tavern, shoulders shaking with the force of it. Magic surges beneath your skin, angry and hot in response to the threat looming over you. The glass in your hand cracks; it doesn’t shatter, but you can feel the edge slice in your skin all the same. Farrell plants his other palm against the wall, making any sort of escape impossible. His grip on your shoulder tightens before it disappears, and you see fingers heading for your throat.

Suddenly, there’s a glint of metal flying through the air, the sharp tip of a blade finding its mark, plunging right into the centre of Farrell’s palm. He shouts loudly, face pinching in pain, and tries to spin towards the source of the knife, but goes the wrong way, finding himself stuck against the wall. You use the flurry of movement to your advantage, ducking under the large man’s arm. But before you make a clean escape, the hand that had been heading for your throat grabs the back of your dress, yanking you back and throwing you to the ground. The glass shatters now, blood dripping from your hand, and all of your breath is knocked out of you as you hit the wooden floor. Faintly, you hear Lena call your name over the commotion.

A different shadow steps over you now, a dark cloak fluttering as the knife-thrower steps between you and Farrell. You slink back across the floor, trying to avoid the shattered glass as you take in your saviour. Dressed in heavy chainmail over plain clothes, a thick leather belt, two swords at his back — one straight blade and one curved. More knives like the one lodged in Farrell’s hand hang from his belt, another fastened to the lace of his boot.

You can barely see his face from your spot on the floor, treated only to the messy dark hair, the patchy beard along his strong jaw. His shoulders are broad, hips tapered slightly beneath the mail, but everything about him just screams strength, protector. A warrior, through and through.

“It would do you well, I think,” the man sneers at Farrell, his voice carrying the trace of an accent, somewhere far from here, “if you let the lady be, don’t you?”

+

He’s only supposed to be passing through.

The village was a speck in the dirt, the name barely legible on the map William had supplied him with. In plotting his course, he’d barely considered the place, planned to pass through it on his way to the larger town down the main roads. But his horse had broken a shoe, the chill in the air was making gooseflesh rise on the back of his neck, and the sky had gone dark. He didn’t have much of a choice but to stop in the village, buying a room for the night from the tavern-keeper, leaving his horse in the stable.

It was quiet when he arrived, the sun starting its descent, the main square mostly empty of people. Someone pointed him in the direction of the tavern, and an hour later, he was sat at table tucked in the corner of the room, a hot meal and a large mug of ale in front of him.

He hadn’t moved from the spot, and was still sat there when you came in, carrying that intoxicating scent with you, and instantly, everything in Pero Tovar’s body was on high alert. His eyes followed you across the room, watched you shrug the cloak from your shoulders, your hair braided down your back. You laughed with your companions, baring sharp white teeth and a wickedly curved grin. You’re beautiful — of course, you are — and he grit his teeth at the thought. He knows what you are.

Witch.

After the Wall, he knew there was nothing in the world that could shock him, not anymore. The Tao Tei had been beyond anything his mind could have imagined, so you are a paltry notion to begin with, but his brow pulls down further as he studies you from afar.

Soon after the dust had settled, before he and William had parted ways, they had came upon a village not unlike the one he has set foot in now. Similar in size, but with fewer inhabitants, most of the buildings abandoned and falling to pieces, some of them still smouldering from a recent fire. William, ever the kindhearted, tried to help, asking those who still remained what had happened, offering food from their saddlebags.

Pero found himself wandering, sword gripped tightly in his hand as he stepped through the rubble. Deeper and deeper into the village, until he could no longer hear the conversation of his travelling companions. Until he was sure he’d passed the same building five times over, and when he turned a corner, a cloth tent stood in the middle of the road, the outside painted with shapes and symbols he had no name for. Smoke billowed out the top — not on fire, but a fire inside — and he could not stop his feet, his body seeming to have a mind of its own, pulling him forward and through the open flap before he even realized what was happening.

I have been waiting for you, Pero Tovar.

The tent was much bigger on in the inside than it appeared on the outside. Darker, too, the large fire in the centre crackling away. Crystals glittered in the firelight everywhere he looked, sparkling like stars on every available surface. Bundles of herbs, jars of liquid, stacks of books. Clutter covered the space, and Pero nearly stumbled backward when he spotted her.

You needn’t be afraid, child.

Her lips didn’t move, but he heard her voice as though she were speaking to him. Old and weathered, eyes like hunks of amethyst glittered at him from the depths of a leathery face. She was covered in necklaces, her thin arms stacked with metallic bracelets, fingers heavy with large rings. A moth-eaten shawl draped her shoulders, a dress made of a patchwork of fabric peeking out. Something in her lap moved, and it took him a moment to realize there was a large white cat curled up there.

A fortune teller? Something darker? He wasn’t sure. The woman smiled, gestured to the seat in front of her, across the table covered with stones and books and cards.

I only wish to tell you what you seek.

His feet carried him to the table, sat him down in the chair that slid out as he approached. He sank onto the cushion, lost in the feeling that his body was not quite his own for the time being. The woman surveyed him, those strange purple eyes taking in every part of him. She reached for a stack of cards, shuffled them in her ring-laden hands, drew two from the pile. She looked at the cards, then at him, then back at the cards again.

Give me your hand, Pero, the strange mind-voice said, and he reached across without a second thought. The woman surged up to grip his hand in her much smaller ones, lurching out of her seat and over the table, upsetting the cat in her lap and earning a loud yowl from the creature. She hissed at the cat, baring her teeth, before turning his hand palm-up and staring down into it. Then she smiled.

You seek a woman. A witch, no less.

He couldn’t stop himself from scoffing. It had been a long while since he’d had a woman, too long a time spent in the company of other men, no time to sneak away to ease his aches by anything other than his own hand. And the women at the Wall had barely given him a second thought, most of them much too preoccupied with William to give his scarred companion a second glance. But a witch?

This one is different, Pero Tovar, the woman continued, and he felt the tip of her finger trace a line in his palm. Her soul calls to yours. She is who you seek. Find her, and find yourself.

Something in him twinged. Dreams riled themselves in the back of his mind, pulling images to the surface. Soft skin bathed in moonlight, hair that sifted like silk between his knuckles, eyes that kept him nailed in place but begged questions and gave answers. A wild woman. His woman.

He’d dreamt of her that first night on the Wall, after he and William had barely scraped by with their lives, everything they thought they knew torn asunder by the strange creatures that attacked. The dreams had come quick, as soon as he’d shut his lids, landscapes he didn’t recognize, the pleats of a dress made of dark silk, and those eyes.

Your eyes.

The same eyes pinning him in place now, staring up at him from your spot on the ground. Your gaze is wild, a fire in your irises he’s never seen before, but ignites something in his chest. He wants to run to you automatically, every muscle in his body screaming for him to move, but then the man he has pinned against the wall barks at him.

“She isn’t welcome here!”

A hand flashes toward him, but Pero is quicker, snatching a knife from his belt and jamming it into the man’s other palm, pinning it to the wall, a mirror of the injury he’s already sustained. The man howls and Pero grins. Something feral in his stomach roils in pleasure, keening and possessive; don’t touch my woman.

“Where I come from,” Pero starts, pulling another knife, getting closer to the man, pressing the tip of the blade into his fat chin, “you know what they do to men who put their hands on a woman?” He grins. “Much worse than what I’ve done to you, amigo, much, much worse.”

He flicks his wrist, leaving a tiny cut in the man’s chin, before sheathing his knife and reaching for the others.

“I want you to listen close, yes?” He curls his hands around the hilts of each dagger, wiggling them slightly. He can still feel you watching. “I’m going to pull these out, and you’re going to run. There’s lots of veins in your hands, you know, so there’s going to be a lot of blood. You’ll be fine, if you move fast. So, you’re going to get out of here, scurry home to whatever sorry woman has been unlucky enough to marry you, and leave the lady alone, you understand me?”

The man whimpers, the sound pitiful, and Pero just grins again, yanking hard on the knives. A path of dripping blood follows the man out, and Pero wipes the blood from his blades, sheathing them once more. 

Then he turns to you.

“Tell me your name,” are your first words, your pretty mouth parting as he offers you a hand, pulling you to your feet. Your skirts swish as your body rights itself, your skin warm against his. A wince pulls at your lips as you flex your other hand, and he bristles at the sight of blood pooled in your palm.

“He did this?” he asks, taking your wrist carefully. You’re still watching him.

“I asked for your name.”

“Pero,” he answers instantly this time, eyes flicking up to your face from your palm and back again. “Pero Tovar.” He can feel your pulse racing against his fingertips. “Did he do this to you?”

“In a way,” you reply, glancing at the shattered glass on the floor. “Thank you, for that.”

He says nothing. The dreams rise in his mind. Since the woman told him to find you, he’s played the scenario over and over in his head a hundred different ways. What he would say, what he would do. He should have known it wouldn’t happen any way he imagined.

All eyes in the tavern have turned on the pair of you, the blood on the floor and the stranger in their midst, but no one makes a move to remove Pero from the tavern. A few eyes flicker your way with disdain, but no one says a word. There’s fear in some faces, but he’s more preoccupied with your eyes on his own.

“Sit with us,” you say, your voice soft, melodic to his ears. “Let me buy you a drink for your chivalry.”

Pero opens his mouth to say no, but his body follows you back to the table you’d been sat at before hell had broken loose. “Your hand,” he says as you pull a chair back for him to sit. With a grin, you close your fingers with a flourish, and when you open them again, the blood is gone, the cut sealed, your skin unmarked.

Witch.

The woman you’re with jumps up and hugs you close as soon as you’re within reach, and Pero sinks down into the chair beside you. A man he assumes to be her husband eyes him, but ultimately reaches over and offers his hand. “Tomas,” he says, grunting slightly when Pero grips his hand tight. “That was quite the spectacle.”

“I don’t like men who make games of harming women,” he replies simply. “Witch or not, there’s no reason for cruelty when it’s unwarranted.”

Tomas raises a brow at him. “How do you know it’s unwarranted? You know her?”

You’ve disappeared from his line of sight, and he turns his head to see you standing at the bar with Tomas’s wife, your bottom lip pinched between your thumb and finger, watching him. A chill shoots down his spine when your eyes lock.

“In a way,” Pero replies, mirroring your earlier words.

The night passes quickly, the sky outside darkening further and further until it feels as though a blanket has been draped over the world. There are no stars tonight, the moon hanging behind clouds, offering little light. The tavern empties slowly, a barmaid coming to clean up the blood at some point. Pero watches you shoot up from your chair, helping the girl, watches her eyes go wide and she scurries off, leaving the bucket and cloth. You clean every drop of blood from the wood, and he wonders idly if your magic could do it faster, like you’d healed your hand.

When the hour grows even later, Tomas and his wife — who Pero learns is named Lena — take their leave. Tomas claps Pero on the shoulder as they go, Lena kissing your cheeks before they depart. “Your friends are kind,” he tells you, a nearly awkward silence settling over the two of you, leaving him desperate to break it. “They do not fear you like some of the others in this village.”

“Well,” you say, your voice growing soft. You lean forward on the table, planting your elbows, and his throat grows dry at the way your cleavage shifts with the movement. “They have nothing to fear.”

“Do I?” he asks, his tone nearing suggestive. It’s easy, talking to you, flirtations starting to roll off his tongue. But gods, it’s been a long time since he spoke to a woman like this.

“How did you know what I was?” you ask, one hand reaching down until your fingers brush the back of his, sparks shooting beneath his skin at the feel of your touch.

I’ve been dreaming of you. He almost says it. A woman in a tent told me my future, told me I had to find you. He almost says that as well. But what comes out is: “I heard what he said to you. He called you witch, called you bitch.” He shrugs a shoulder. “I intervened.”

The corner of your mouth quirks in a grin. “And I thank you for it, truly.” Slowly, your finger drags over the back of his hand, tracing the ridges of is knuckles, the ink tattooed into the web between his thumb and forefinger. “I’ll have to think of some way to repay you for your chivalry.”

He looks down his nose at you, sinking his teeth into the inside of his cheek at your sultry tone. “I’m sure you can think of something.”

+

He continues his chivalry. The tavern-keep starts to shuffle those who remain inside out onto the street, and Pero fetches your cloak for you, standing all too close as he drapes it around your shoulders. “I would not want you to be cold, amor,” he says, his voice low in your ear, fingers brushing the back of your neck.  

It’s not lost on you, the ember that’s igniting, turning to flame on the kindling of conversation and stolen touches. Something has burrowed itself deep in your chest, spanning through your rib cage and taking root around your heart. It’s foreign, this feeling, but the ache that blooms between your legs at the mere sight of the warrior, your saviour — protector, your hindbrain screams — is all too familiar.

The skies have cleared, and moonlight pours over the both of you as you step onto the cobblestones, and you tip your face towards it, basking in the glow the crescent moon offers. You can feel him watching, those dark eyes on your face, examining your features intensely. He’s standing so close your sides are pressed together, your shoulder at his bicep.

“You’re staring, Pero Tovar,” you comment, keeping your eyes shut, a smile winding across your face.

“I have a habit of staring at beautiful things,” he replies, and you feel his fingers brush against yours.

“Where are you staying?” you ask, blinking up at him. The expression on his face is not lost to you either, the mix of lust and want, the same emotions swirling through your gut with every second you spend in his presence. “A friend in the village?”

He juts his chin towards the tavern behind you. “A room upstairs.”

“Ah.”

You feel his hand twitch against yours now, and his pinky curls around yours, his skin rougher and hotter than your own. “I will not sleep a moment,” he tells you, body turning towards yours completely now, your hands linked and his other coming up to knock a knuckle beneath your chin, lifting your face to his, “until I know you are home safe, amor.”

Your breath is catching, rioting in your chest like a caged bird, and the words fall out of you. “Come home with me.”

His eyes widen slightly, and you wait for the hitch, for him to be pushed away by your forwardness. You curse yourself internally, the voice in your head grating. You couldn’t deny your own attraction, and he hadn’t been shy about his own, but had you crossed a line? Was the heat you felt building still nothing but a farce, a trick of the light, a cruel machination of your own lonely mind?

But then you feel the bad of his thumb across the lower curve of your lip, riding the line until it rests right in the centre, pulling ever so slightly on your skin. You inhale again, your heart climbing up into your throat. “Yes,” he says simply, as if you’d asked the easiest question in the world.

The walk to your cottage from the village has never felt longer. Pero does not let you stray far, your fingers still linked, falling into step with one another. The moon lights the path, and that strange something in your chest only grows heavier, hungrier. As does the ache.

You have a feeling you can cure both with the same antidote.

Soot greets you at the door when you both step through, chirping with interest and coming to inspect your guest. You shrug out of your cloak, stepping through the rooms to light candles. When you turn back, you see Pero crouched on the ground, arms resting on his knees, scratching the cat under the chin with one hand. There’s an almost boyish grin on his face, and you just watch him for a moment, leaning against the wall.

“He’ll never leave you alone if you keep that up,” you say, jutting your chin to the little ball of fur when Pero looks up at you. “He’s a menace for attention.”

Soot meows loudly, as if disagreeing, and you both chuckle. But, surprising to you, as Pero stands, he disappears into the shadows, off to chase a mouse or lounge in a dark corner. You step towards Pero as he lifts the belt holding his swords over his head, hanging them carefully on the hook by your door. His hands lift to unhook his cloak, but you beat him to it, your hands faster than his, knocking his palms away when he tries. He just watches you, dark eyes simmering down at you, as you pull the cloak from his shoulders, folding it and setting it down.

It leaves him in his chainmail and boots, the metal hanging heavily over his frame. You cock your head to the side, searching for some sort of clasp or fastening, but your patience wears thin, and you snap a finger, feeling a surge of magic through your arm. In a flash, the mail is gone, piled atop his cloak, and Pero just continues to stare, a rakish smile pulling on his lips.

You leave him to his boots, unlacing your own and setting them by the door. You ensure the door is properly locked, and when you turn away, you feel hands on your hips a moment later, the growing beast in your chest keening into the touch. The grip isn’t tight, but it promises to be, something possessive in his hands. “Show me to your bedroom,” he murmurs, his mouth by your ear, teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your lobe. It sends a chill down your spine, “or else I will ravish you right here on this floor.”

You wrap one hand around his wrist, stepping far enough out of his grip that you can tug him behind you, leading him through your small home and towards the bedroom. You wave a hand as you enter, the hearth erupting with flame and the door swinging shut. You hear his sharp inhale, releasing your hold on him, and you turn to face him, stepping backward until he follows a step, then another.

“Do I scare you?”

Slowly, he shakes his head.

Your cheeks heat, the gravity of the situation you’ve found yourself in making your mind spin. You turn again, facing away from him, but feeling his gradual approach until his heat covers you one more. With careful fingers, he brushes the braid from the back of your neck until it hangs over your shoulder.

“Tell me where you’ve been hiding, amor,” he whispers, lips nearly touching your skin, your pulse leaping in response. His hand trails up your side, palm flattening against your ribs. “Tell me why I’ve waited so long to find you.”

You can’t hold back any longer. The feeling — the something — is too much.

Spinning on your heel, you startle him, his pretty mouth dropping open as you surge up to meet it. It’s nothing short of euphoric, like every kiss you’ve ever received has lead up to this one. The hand at your ribs stays there, fingers pressing through the fabric of your dress, while the other roves around your body, snaking up your spine until it rests at the back of your neck, spanning so wide you can feel his fingertips press either side of your throat.

He tastes like everything you’ve ever dreamed of, a taste that was only meant for your tongue. You can’t stop yourself from moaning into his mouth, a whine tumbling from your lips when he sinks his teeth into your lower one. It’s nearly enough to draw blood, and it only feeds the feeling in your chest, what you can only describe as a beast keening at the attention, rallying for more, making your heart riot harder.

You could snap your fingers and have you both naked as the day you were born, but something stops you. The hurried movement of hands, both his and yours, pulling at ties and pushing at fabric, his fingers hooked into the strings of your corset, yours in the laces of his pants. The way he murmurs slowly in that foreign tongue of his, words you don’t understand but hang off of all the same.

“He viajado por todo el mundo por ti, mi amor. Y con mucho gusto lo volvería a hacer.”

You can’t stop to ask, your mouth too busy gasping for air when he manages you out of your skirts and corset, your shirt nearly shredded by his hand. His lips leave yours only to travel down your chest, tonguing at your collarbone and laving at your nipple. It makes your body react in a way you’ve never known, one hand plunging into his hair, keeping his head at your breast, while your hips push towards him, chasing a feeling that hasn’t been granted yet.

“You are needy, amor,” he murmurs into your skin, licking at your sensitive skin and pressing a soft kiss to the curve. “Tell me, how long has it been since someone touched your body like this, hmm?”

You’re completely bare now, your shirt a puddle of fabric at your feet, the combined heat of Pero Tovar and the fire making sparks shoot across your vision. You’ve managed to divest him of his shirt, his chest a broad expanse of bronze, scarred skin. He looks up at you from his bent position at your chest, the brown of his eyes nearly eclipsed by the black of his pupil. He stares you down, lips closing around your nipple, and you yelp when he gives you the slightest bit of teeth, both hands holding your hips, thumbs rubbing at your bones.

“Tell me.”

“Too long,” you breathe out, head tilting back on your shoulders as he sucks at you, one hand dipping down to squeeze the meat of your ass. “Far too long.”

He descends lower, kissing along your skin like he’s drawing a map of you, outlining every inch. You take another step back and your thighs hit the bed. He uses his grip on you as leverage, tilting you backward until you’re splayed on the blankets. As soon as your shoulders lay flat, your knees are pushed apart by his big hands, and you blink up to see him situated between your legs, his mouth now pressed to the hinge of your knee.

“Then I must fix that,” he murmurs into your skin, palm skimming the outside of your thigh. “Would you let me taste you, amor?”

You barely have a chance to breathe out a yes before he’s dipping his head between your legs, open-mouth kisses pressed along every inch of you. The heat is nearly too much, the beast in your chest screaming for more, and when his tongue finally touches that most intimate part of you, it finally goes silent, sated for the time being.

Instead, all you feel is pleasure.

He’s a skilled man, to be sure. Unsurprisingly good with his hands, and even more talented with his tongue. He draws shapes along the insides of your thighs, sucks on that little bundle of nerves until your back is arching up off the bed, plunges two fingers into your cunt at precisely the right moment. You thrash in the blankets, at the mercy of the man before you, already feeling that sometimes unreachable peak skidding towards you. You’re almost hesitant, not wanting your body to catapult over the edge so quickly, if that means this will all be over sooner.

But then you chance a look down at the bulk of Pero between your legs, broad shoulders keeping your thighs wide. His hair is a mess, the work of your own fingers, and you watch the trail of his free hand over the length of your leg, squeezing in a different place with each pass. He lifts his head slightly, mouth detaching from you, and you catch sight of his fingers disappearing into the very depths of your body, his skin glistening with your slick, and the image makes you gasp. 

His head lifts then, dark eyes locked with yours, and he grins. “You like to watch?”

Mouth dropped open, you just nod.

He thrusts his fingers hard, curling his knuckles, and the pads of his fingers brush against something absolutely devastating inside you, white-hot shocks of pleasure shooting through your limbs. At the same time, he lowers his head, keeping his eyes locked with yours as he does it, going so slow you’re sure you might die with anticipation, until his mouth touches you once more.

The edge is right there, and you have no choice but to tumble over.

It’s the most intense feeling, every muscle going taut and then loose and then taut and then loose. You’re half-sure your eyes roll back, your vision spotted with black dots, and it doesn’t seem to stop. Your vision returns after a moment, body still quaking with pleasure, and Pero grins, pulling his mouth from you, but keeping his fingers in place.

“Tell me what you want, amor,” he breathes, leaning up and over you, his knees keeping your legs wide, offering you a kiss that tastes of your own pleasure. “Tell me what you need.”

His fingers prod that spot again, and your hips lift into his hand.

“More.”

Your orgasm hasn’t stopped, you’re quite sure, spurred on by his fingers still thrusting, your body still twitching. You can barely catch your breath, but then you glance down again, and see he’s as naked as you are, pulling his fingers from you only to coat his cock with your slick, leaning his hips forward to drag the tip through your wet folds. He’s big, thick and achingly hard, the head weeping. When he bumps your clit, you moan. “You want more?” he asks, nearly taunting, and you lift your hips again, trying to notch him inside you.

“Please.”

He gives you exactly what you ask for. As soon as his hot cock slides into you, it’s like the air has been punched from your lungs. You scrabble for him, hauling him down onto you until his chest is pressed to yours. You know you’re leaving scratch marks on his back, but you can’t bring yourself to care, stealing breaths from the man above you as his mouth searches for yours.

His hips snap into you with a ferocity you have no name for, a fervour you’ve never experienced before. You can’t catch your breath, but it doesn’t matter. None of it matters.

None of it, except for him.

As the realization settles over you, the beast in your chest purrs with delight. You hold Pero closer, hips lifting to match his thrusts, doubling the feeling for you both. The sounds he makes are absolutely sinful, but it’s the sweetest melody you’ve ever heard, spurring your body back towards the edge. Your blood is singing in your veins, your mind a mess of pleasure and emotions you cannot describe.

You topple a second time, tossing your head back and baring your throat. He takes the bait, closing his mouth around your pulse, and you fist your hand in the back of his hair, keeping him as close as possible. Your body feels as though it might implode, an impossible amount of pleasure surging through your veins.

His cock twitches hard, and with a groan more akin to a growl, Pero rips himself from you, fisting his cock and cumming in thick ropes across your stomach. You watch his face as he cums, the hard pinch in his brow, the way the scar on his eye ripples with the movement. His lips part, heavy breaths falling from him, and you reach up with one hand, covering his hand with your own as he continues to stroke himself. The other reaches down, and you wait for his eyes to open before you drag two fingers through the mess he’s left on your skin, bringing them to your lips and sucking off the taste of him.

“Mierda.”

Pero collapses beside you a moment later, broad chest heaving with exertion, turning towards you to press a heavy kiss to your mouth. You return it with enthusiasm, testing the bend in your legs a moment later, planting your feet carefully before trusting your shaky knees with your weight. You find a rag to clean yourself with, disappearing down the hall and returning with two cups of water. Pero grumbles his thanks, his voice low and raspy, and steals another kiss when you settle back into the bed with him. It strikes you for a moment how at ease he looks, as though the empty side of your bed is where he’s been his whole life, how perfectly he fits.

He looks up at you, same as he had when he was between your legs, and you reach out, cupping his cheek in your hand. Your thumb rides the ridge of his scar. “What did you say to me earlier?”

You get a roguish grin in return. “I just said a great many things to you, amor. You will have to be more specific.”

“The things you said when you undressed me,” you say, your voice growing soft, still stroking the raised skin of his scar. “I don’t know the language.”

“Ah,” he murmurs, understanding. You shuffle closer to him, and his head leans into your palm, his hand reaching out to trace shapes on your thigh. “He viajado por todo el mundo por ti, mi amor. Y con mucho gusto lo volvería a hacer.”

“Yes,” you nod eagerly. “What does it mean?”

He peers up at you again. “I have travelled a world over for you, amor,” he answers, and the beast in your chest sings happily, “And I would gladly do it again.”

You sink lower until you’re laid out beside him, pulling the blankets over you both, seeking his warmth beneath them. “And amor,” you repeat, trying to mimic his accent best you can, “what does that mean?”

“Love,” he says simply, like it’s obvious. “Mi amor. My love.”

—————

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[boliv-jenta]

Slow

New Year's Eve Drabbles

[adancedivasmom]

Kinktober 2022 - Day 18: Hair Pulling

Pero Tovar x F!Reader

Rated M

PinV sex

A/N: I am not a writer. But I wanted to participate in Kinktober this year and this was the only thing I could think of doing. My blog and all of my hai(kink)ku are for those 18+ years of age and older. Minors: you are not welcome here. Thank you to @absurdthirst for sharing your amazing prompt list. My apologies in advance for butchering this lovely ancient art form.

Balls deep in your cunt

Pero pulls your hair roughly

You clench around him