#readerxmiguelohara

[theroseceleste]

Pilot Miguel - Part 1 - Pilot

You're a member of cabin crew for AracnAir, a commercial airliner and today is Miguel's first day as Captain. Will it be a soaring success? Or will it crash and burn - his first day - not the plane...

Word count - 3675

I don't think there is any potential triggering content in this chapter.

This fic will have smut, but not in this chapter. Minors DNI

Enjoy! xx

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14

If you enjoy this fic, please consider liking, commenting or re-blogging. Many thanks xx

You sit in your car looking into your flip down mirror as you check your makeup. It’s immaculate - it has to be. No single strand of hair out of place, pulled into a tight, neat bun. You look perfect, just how a member of an airliner’s cabin crew should; clean, presentable and stunning. You practise a bright white smile before slamming the sun-shade back up against the ceiling of your car. Then you open your door and slide out.

As you lock your car, you spot a group of other cabin crew across the car park. They too, are wearing the same uniform. A regal purple smart jacket, with the same colour pencil skirt or trousers. They could well be on the same flight as you.

Your purple heels click across the carpark as you drag your small travel case behind you. You’ll be flying for about eight hours today to Acapulco, Mexico and you’ll be staying over for two days before flying back. This is one of the many perks of being part of a cabin crew; seeing the world and being paid for it. This job does come with its challenges however…

After signing up to join AracnAir, you underwent intense and serious training; learning every emergency procedure and then performing them under extremely realistic scenarios. You have had to put out a real fire in a training fuselage, and activate the large exit chutes that become life rafts if the plane has to ditch into water and stage an evacuation suspended over a giant swimming pool.

You don’t just fly in one type of plane either, so your training included learning the ins and outs of every model that is in the airliner’s fleet. Learning the differences isn’t enough, you’re tested, yearly. Making sure you’re up to scratch and on the ball. If you fail the test, back to training you go.

Nueva York airport is a clean but bustling, expansive building. Long queues are forming before the check-in desks, snaking their way back towards the entrance. Bright white lights shine down and reflect off of the polished tiled floor.

The group of purple jackets are still ahead of you, as you follow them to your designated check-in area. In the small queue, you hear a couple of girls in front of you gossiping excitedly. A new pilot is to be flying with AracnAir today. New to the company, but a highly experienced flyer.

“He’s due to be piloting a flight this morning, I hear he’s handsome. I hope he’s on my flight.”

You silently scoff behind them, rolling your eyes in the process. It’s funny how excited they are considering that if he was on their flight they’ll hardly see him.

The queue inches further forward at a reasonable pace. You have your passport at the ready. With no large suitcases to check-in, you go through towards security rather quickly.

This is all fairly routine stuff. You put your hand luggage into a little crate on the rollers, along with your handbag, cellphone and shoes. No alarm goes off as you step through the metal detector and you’re able to pick up your cleared luggage on the other side.

After security, you walk through the duty free section. You’re greeted with a path winding all the way around the different stalls crammed with expensive perfume and colognes, oversized chocolate bars, trinkets and souvenirs, sunglasses, hats, you name it, it’s probably there.

Before getting onto the flight, you have to meet with your assigned crew and answer a couple of questions about the plane you’ll be working on. Once arriving at the staff lounge, you discover those girls who were in front of you in the queue are not on your flight. You wonder if they have got what they wished for and have the new pilot be their captain.

Your supervisor for the flight begins her usual pre-flight spiel. Today you’re flying on a Boeing-747. Presented with a technical question, you answer it correctly proving your readiness to fly.

“Oh and the Captain and co-pilot for today’s flight are Captain O’Hara and First Officer Parker,” your supervisor mentions as two suited men enter the staff lounge.

Before seeing them, you smile as you’re fond of Peter, the First Officer. He’s been on several of your flights and is a very cheeky, spirited human being. But the name O’Hara, that’s a new one. No… is he the new Captain?

Your eyes glance up immediately at the thought, just to see if this guy really is as good looking as they say. Oh my… He’s tall - very tall, dark and certainly, incredibly handsome.

Unlike Peter, he’s wearing a stern expression on his face. Could it be first day nerves? Nah… He looks more… annoyed than nervous. Immediately you sense that both Captain O’Hara and First Officer Parker are totally on the opposite ends of the spectrum. Grumpy and serious versus light-hearted and fun.

His pilot’s hat hides most of his dark hair, but you see his stunningly tanned skin. You try not to, but it’s hard to resist dropping your jaw at the sight of his facial features. Cheekbones that could cut diamond, dark brown eyes that’ll melt anyone’s heart, and those plump lips… your mind begins to run wild at the thought of what they could do. Looking around, you see several of your crewmates doing the same. Lucky for all of you, the Captain doesn’t seem to notice.

It’s time to enter the plane and get things set up. You’re usually stationed in first class, and today is no different. After stowing your little hand luggage case and handbag away in a locker, you get to business pouring glasses of champagne and begin preparing bags of snacks and goodies for the first class passengers.

The main theme for AracnAir is purple, hence the colour of your uniform. Within the plane, there are purple curtains that separate the different classes from one another and purple cushions and blankets are laid out neatly on each seat.

You’re in the zone, you have a nice routine that you stick to at the beginning of each flight. Opening various cupboards, you check the stock of different items in the galley. Everything looks to be in order. You stand up after crouching down, looking into one of the lower cupboards. Your back bumps into something big and the sound of a grunt follows.

“Oh!” you give out a little surprised yelp before turning round to see who you just inadvertently backed into.

Dark brown eyes glare down at you, they squint slightly as if he’s trying to control his temper. A low growl rumbles from deep within the Captain’s chest. Seeing him before getting onboard you knew he was tall, but up close, it’s a wonder how he can still stand up straight in the plane. His giant-like frame looms over you.

“I- I’m s- sorry Captain…” you stutter as your face instantly heats up.

You’re not really known to stutter but his intensity in that moment made your brain short circuit, and not in a good way.

A pale hand grasps around what looks like an incredibly large bicep underneath the Captain’s jacket.

“Come on big guy,” Peter encourages Captain O’Hara to move forward.

“Don’t worry (Y/N), he’s too big for his own good,” he whispers, but still loud enough for him to hear.

An unimpressed grumble comes from the larger pilot as Peter pushes him forward. “Come on, this way to the cockpit, I’m sure you know where that is…”

You giggle at First Officer Parker’s joke as he turns his head back to you and gives you a cheeky wink.

“Not funny, Parker.”

“What? (Y/N) found it funny…”

You don’t hear the rest of the conversation, as they turn left into the narrow alley before entering the cockpit.

People are starting to come on board. You grab the first tray of champagne glasses and get ready to greet first class. It’s showtime, and you break out your trusty smile and say hello to the first passenger you see. But in the back of your mind, those dark brown eyes remain burned into your memory…

Once in the cockpit, the Captain takes his hat and jacket off and hangs them up. Then, he awkwardly situates himself in his chair on the left-hand side of the cockpit. His chair clicks into place after he pushes it as far back as he can to make room for his long, muscular legs.

Peter flumps into his seat on the right and sighs as he also re-arranges his seating position.

“Man, I gotta stop eating those burgers in the terminal,” he pauses as he pats his tummy.

“Starting to rock the ‘dad-bod’ look. Although, I hear that’s now a thing that the ladies like…”

The Captain doesn’t respond as he searches for the plane’s flight log, to check previous flights, any reported issues and its history of maintenance.

“Have you given your controls the ‘once over’ yet, Parker?” he asks in hope that’ll keep his First Officer occupied and quiet.

Peter sits up straighter in his chair and obediently does his checks. He may be a bit of a clown, but he understands that safety is important.

Leafing through the pages of the log book, the Captain seems satisfied with the plane’s history. All seems to be in good working order - it is a relatively new aircraft afterall. He puts the book down in the slot next to his chair and begins his own checks on his controls.

The silence between the two pilots makes Peter feel uncomfortable. He’s more of a chatty person and likes to joke around while he works. To fill the awkward silence, he begins talking again.

“There’s a spot on a beach with my name on it in Acap-”

“Do we have a weather report?” Captain O’Hara interrupts, his sweet moment of silence ended far too soon.

“Oh, yeah - here.”

Peter leans forward and passes a print out of today’s weather report for the flight.

Silence fills the cockpit once again as the Captain inspects the report. The forecast looks decent for smooth flying for the next seven to eight hours. He puts the A4 printout next to the log book.

“Begin pre-flight checks,” he instructs his co-pilot sternly as he places his headset on and grabs his checklist.

Peter also dons his headset and waits for Miguel to begin.

“Parking Brake…”

“Set.”

“Throttle…”

“Idle.”

“Fuel Flow…”

“Cutoff.”

The back and forth continues as the Captain ticks off the pre-flight checks until he is satisfied with the plane’s readiness.

Every first class passenger has been offered a free glass of champagne and are happily sitting comfortably in their pricey seats.

After stowing away the used glasses in the galley, you hear an announcement from the cockpit.

“All cabin crew prepare for take-off.”

That’s the Captain’s voice, it’s certainly not Peter’s. You find yourself liking the sound of him even if he is direct and to the point.

Your pre-flight preparations begin with making sure your passengers in first class are seated and have their seat belts fastened. You patrol the small section of the fuselage as your head turns left and right, eyes low, checking for buckled seat belts and that the chairs are in an upright position.

Once your passenger checks are done, you gather the flight safety demonstration equipment and stand at the front of one aisle. A screen unfolds from the ceiling and begins to play a video. Cheesy but cheerful music plays as a woman’s voice starts talking about how there should be no smoking on board and the evacuation procedure should the plane need to make an emergency landing.

Now it’s your turn. You point out the emergency exits for first class, place the life-jacket over your head and around your neck, tie it around your waist and fasten the buckle. As the demonstration takes place, the plane rumbles its way along the tarmac as it taxies to the runway. You’re so well practised at this that the soft bumps don’t bother you anymore as the aircraft navigates its way through the maze of tarmac.

The demonstration ends and you swiftly put away your safety instruction equipment before finding your jumpseat and strapping yourself in. Facing the passengers in front of you, you watch them all carefully as the plane begins its final turn before reaching the long stretch of tarmac lit up with lights.

All four engines whirr healthily away as the aircraft is about to make its final turn onto the runway.

“Set flaps to twenty,” the Captain instructs.

After Peter turns a dial, a mechanical noise vibrates through the fuselage as the flaps on the wings begin to move to their set position.

Captain O’Hara switches landing and strobe lights on and enables the autothrottle, while Peter locks in the final settings before takeoff.

Air traffic control gives the all clear to take off, and the pilots begin to push the throttles forward slowly. The aircraft starts its roll forward along the tarmac, gradually building up speed as the engines roar, increasing thrust.

The aircraft rattles and rumbles loudly as it screams down the runway. The Captain watches the equipment on his console and keeps the plane steady.

At the right time, Captain O’Hara pulls the yoke back, causing the nose of the plane to rise, its large wings catching the rushing air.

Eventually the back landing gear lifts from the ground too, making the plane totally airborne. Everyone feels the dipping sensation in their stomachs as the plane’s thrust pulls them down into their seats.

Once at a certain altitude, the Captain presses a button to bring in the landing gear, stowing the wheels into the plane’s underbelly.

“Nice one Captain,” Peter congratulates his new colleague, but he’s met with no response.

“Climb to forty thousand feet and maintain altitude in a southwesterly direction until you are advised to change,” a woman from the air traffic control tower at the airport they had just departed from speaks over the radio.

“Understood. Climbing to forty thousand feet and maintaining altitude in the southwest direction,” Captain O’Hara responds in a confident but stern tone.

The plane remains nose up for quite a while as it gradually climbs in altitude. Passing the first layer of large fluffy white clouds.

At last the aircraft has levelled out flying at roughly six hundred miles an hour. The flight path takes them over the southern parts of the USA and across Mexico to the popular holiday destination.

The seat belt signs switch off with an audible ‘bing’ and the cabin crew rise from their seats to begin their regular flight duties.

Soon, they will have to prepare lunch to be served to the passengers. But first, Duty-Free booklets and headphones are handed out for everyone to peruse or enjoy the inflight entertainment system.

In the galley, you begin organising food for first class when your supervisor pokes her head into the tiny kitchen-like area.

“Sweety, can you ask the boys what they want for lunch, then come and let me know?” she asks, jerking her head towards the cockpit when she mentioned ‘the boys’.

“Yeah, sure,” you reply.

You knock on the cockpit door and enter a security code to unlock and open it.

“Ah! (Y/N) is it lunchtime already?” First Officer Parker asks hopefully turning in his seat to see you.

You give him a sweet smile.

“Of course. What would you both like? Beef or vegetarian?”

Captain O’Hara never turns to look at who came into the room but feels two sets of eyes looking at him.

“Beef,” he manages to grunt out eventually.

Flight Officer Parker grimaces - he wants beef; but pilots can’t eat the same meals, in case there is something in it that makes them both sick.

“I guess I’m having vegetarian then,” replies Peter.

You give Peter a sympathetic smile and turn to leave the cockpit.

“So, uh, you’re a man of few words,” the First Officer comments as he keeps his gaze forward, watching the bubbly clouds pass below them.

No response, the awkwardness between the two deepens. The First Officer bites his lip and starts to ask another question.

“First day nerves?”

“Parker, I have over five thousand flight hours with this type of plane. I am not nervous. I just don’t like meaningless chit chat.”

Silence descends upon the both of them again - apart from the constant roar of engines. The lack of conversation is perfect for the Captain but absolute hell for the First Officer.

With the 747 on autopilot, the two pilots can relax a little more. They’re not due to check in with the next air traffic control tower for another thirty minutes.

The Captain occasionally casts a keen eye over the apparatus, looking at the artificial horizon, checking wind speed and altitude, everything perfectly normal.

His mind goes back to how you bumped into him earlier before takeoff. Even though he said nothing to you, he feels like perhaps he was an asshole for just glaring at you. It was an accident after all. He remembers the smell of your sweet and floral perfume filling his nostrils in the galley. He likes that smell-

A sudden shake of his head snaps him out of that mindset. He can’t be thinking like that…

The relative silence is interrupted again as you return, knocking on the door and entering.

“Here you go boys. Vegetarian for you.” You hand Peter his meal first as you watch him lick his lips - beef or no beef, he’s hungry.

“And beef for you, Captain.”

There’s that enchanting smell again. He wasn’t exactly listening to you speak when you entered, but your perfume alerts him to your presence.

Slowly he turns his head, peeling his unblinking gaze from the horizon and looking at you. Then his eyes land on the meal you are holding out for him.

“Thanks.”

His hand takes the tray gently from you but then he turns away quickly after without uttering another word.

“Mmm, this is so good…” Peter mumbles with a mouthful, taking your attention from the pensive Captain.

“Peter, I’m certain you’re the only person in the world who likes plane food,” you comment with a playful grin.

“Hey - it’s food! Course I’m gonna like it. Oh, by the way, if there’s any spare packs of biscuits, I wouldn’t mind one - or two.”

Raising an eyebrow and smirking up a storm, you produce two packets of biscuits from your jacket pocket, as if by magic.

“Ahh, you’re an angel!” he gasps in surprise.

“I knew you’d ask for one.”

Peter reaches out, his fingers try to grip both packets.

“Nah, ah… one for you.”

You hand Peter one packet.

“And one for you.”

You lean over the Captain and place the pack on his food tray. Your scent fills his nostrils more. He flinches slightly at your sudden unexpected space invasion but he soon relaxes when he sees what you’re doing.

“A peace offering for earlier.”

The stern look in his eyes wavers slightly, but unseen by you. In reality, you didn’t need to do that. It should really be him apologising, but right now he doesn’t really want to talk.

“Gracias,” (thank you) he mutters quietly.

Peter looks at you like you have betrayed him.

“But I usually get two packets!”

Honestly, it’s like dealing with a child when you’re with Peter, you roll your eyes and chuckle.

“You’ll get another one later, how’s that?” you ask.

The Flight Officer is easily swayed, especially where food is concerned. He gives a happy shrug and continues to eat his meal.

With a smile spread across your face, you leave the cockpit. The Captain’s word of thanks lingers in your mind. ‘Gracias’...

The rest of the flight is fairly uneventful; little to no turbulence, passengers are happy and not too demanding. You occasionally visit the cockpit to check on the pilots to see if they need refreshments. Whilst they both drink plenty of water, the Captain also seems to be a huge coffee fan.

Peter looks as though he’s dying of boredom. He usually enjoys talking while flying but his colleague is essentially a brick wall. Your visits to the cockpit brightens him up even if it is for a brief amount of time.

Landing is perfect and purely textbook. No hard bump as the landing gear connects with the tarmac and no ‘kangarooing’; bouncing the plane down the runway.

Now at a complete stop, parked next to the terminal, cabin crew say goodbye to disembarking passengers, wishing them a pleasant time in Acapulco, while Captain O’Hara and Flight Officer Parker finish the final checklist.

You and the rest of the cabin crew step off of the plane, greeted by the exotic mid afternoon heat as you walk through the tunnel leading into the main building. It immediately feels stuffy under your thick, shoulder-padded jacket. You can’t wait to check into your hotel and relax by the pool or on the beach.

Some of the other cabin crew members make plans for partying hard that evening as they line up in front of you at customs. You’re not really into that kind of thing, although you might enjoy the bar, just a little bit tonight. Peter will be there, he’s always good company. Then you think about the Captain. Your heart thuds slightly at the thought. You wonder what he’ll be doing…

Joining at the end of the queue at customs, Peter and Captain O’Hara arrive, dragging their own small cases behind them. They stand behind you, in silence. That is until Peter knows it’s you in front and steps forward to talk to you instead.

The sound of talking is drowned out as the Captain checks his phone. A frown grows across his face as he sees several emails come into his inbox. It seems impossible but his already crappy mood plummets even further.

I hope you enjoy the Pilot chapter of Pilot Miguel - see what I did there? Tee hee.

Next Chapter >

I have had so much fun writing this. As and when my other chapters come out from early access on Patreon, I'll upload them here. Stay tuned!

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[theroseceleste]

Mafia Miguel - Part 4

The fourth instalment to Mafia Miguel.

You can find chapters before this one below.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

18+ content. Minors DNI!

Contains : Female reader, mention of anxiety, brief mention of violence, smut - oral, fingering and penetrative sex.

Word count - 7609

Hope you enjoy chapter 4!

----------

“I- I’m sorry Mr. O’Hara…” a tall slender man in a work suit stuttered nervously leaning as far back in his chair as he possibly could.

“I’ll stress the fact that only you or Mr. Parker can pick up your daughter from now on to our receptionists. A grievous error on the training front that we’ll be sure to remedy as of today.” Mr Whitaker, Gabriella’s principal quivers in his chair staring up at a furious Mr. O’Hara leaning against his desk glaring down at him; his nostrils flaring as he breathes deeply.

“I have half a mind to request that the offending receptionist is fired!” he growls angrily, however he closes his eyes, takes in a deep breath and removes his weight off of the principal's desk.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he tries to calm himself down. Remembering he’s not dealing with anyone in the mafia, he tries to contain his frustration and bad temper.

“Just make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

The principal gulps, feeling like he’s just dodged a bullet. His pale face nods in response.

“Y-yes Mr. O’Hara, of course.”

The serious man stalks out of the principal’s office, it appears he is finished with the conversation. Mr. Whitaker breathes a deep sigh of relief the moment he sees the back of Gabriella’s father. Taking his handkerchief, he mops his sweating brow and relaxes in his chair.

Yet another perfect, sunny day blankets the city of Nueva York. The mafia man dons his sunglasses as he leaves his daughter’s school and heads back to his limo that is parked outside the front.

The events of the day before scares Miguel, even now. He always thought he was careful about leaving potential traceable crumbs, leading back to him or his family. Sending that threat to Kingpin perhaps was a rather boastful move and not quite as well thought out. The excitement of scaring and capturing the man responsible for his wife’s death may have got the better of him. He must tread carefully from now on, especially when it seems Kingpin is willing to retaliate on someone as innocent as his daughter. If he ever finds the spy who has been gathering information on him, he’ll make them pay - dearly.

Sliding into his car, Miguel is greeted by the pleasant air conditioning, cooling him down from the rising heat outside.

Knowing that he’s near your home, he makes a request to stop by to deliver something to you. He doesn’t call ahead or text. If you’re in, he’d like it to be a surprise. His gaze rests on the cute box of cupcakes Gabriella made for you with her babysitter the night before while he was on a date with you.

That date… asides from knowing his daughter was safe at home, the evening he shared with you was one of the other good things that came out of that day.

Standing outside your door, the mafia man shakes his head at himself. If his father was alive, he’d despair at the thought of his now powerful son, the head of a mafia gang, waiting to deliver cupcakes to a girl he had only met the day before. Miguel is the first man in a long line of sons to have a daughter. He believes his wife and Gabriella were responsible for warming his once frozen heart.

After waiting for several moments, he assumes you’re out working as there is no answer at your door. Feeling slightly disappointed that he doesn’t get to see you, he gently places the box on the floor, making sure to leave Gabriella’s note out on display.

***

Huffing and puffing, you clamber up your apartment building’s staircase carrying a couple of bags of groceries. A sweet little box sits at the foot of your door, catching your eye the moment you reach your floor. Picking up the note, you giggle when you read who it’s from.

“Hey (Y/N)!

I made these while papa took you out on your date last night. He says you had a good time and I’m very happy that you did!

Thank you for being my hero. I hope I get to see you soon. Maybe we can bake cupcakes together?

Enjoy!

Gabi xx”

Opening the box just a little, you’re greeted with the sweetest of smells. Chocolate cupcakes baked just the night before sat in the box, looking extremely enticing to say the least. Closing the lid again, you gently place the box in one of your shopping bags before getting a key out to unlock your door, except you find it’s already open.

Anxiousness sets in as you explicitly remember locking the door when you left. Pushing the handle down, you slowly open it with caution.

On your couch where you made out and did other very intimate things with Miguel the night before, sat a different mafia boss. Kingpin…

“Hello (Y/N). I hope you don’t mind me dropping by,” he begins with a sly smile.

Eyeing him suspiciously you step further into your apartment and put your bags down.

“I made sure to leave that beautiful little box outside for you to discover. It’s certainly better than the box I had sent to me by that little girl’s father…”

Thoughts run wild in your mind as to what Miguel had sent to Kingpin. A harsh reminder that he is not all love hearts and flowers…

“What do you want, Mr. Fisk?” you ask quietly and as respectfully as possible, however his presence in your apartment is making you feel uncomfortable - especially after he has somehow managed to pick your lock.

“So, you and him are dating huh? How useful,” your boss comments as he runs his stubby fingers over his chin pensively.

He’s thinking, scheming, planning his next move in this realistic game of chess he’s playing with Miguel. Your heart plummets into your stomach. Nausea sets in as your fears are being confirmed.

“About that…” you begin nervously as you fiddle with your fingers. “I don’t mind most jobs I do for you, Mr. Fisk. But if it involves innocent children, I don’t want to-"

“I’m afraid it’s out of your hands to decide what is and what is not appropriate for your involvement (Y/N). Besides, why would I ask anyone else to get to know him, when you’re practically in his lap?”

Just when you thought your heart couldn’t drop any lower, it did. Was the word ‘lap’ a deliberate choice? You make a mental note to search for hidden cameras in your apartment. Just the thought of him watching you grinding on Miguel makes you feel sick.

Sighing heavily, you relent. You have no choice. “All I ask is don’t hurt the girl. It’s not her fault her father is who he is.”

Fisk nods, giving you some form of relief at least. “Very well, you have my word. Little Miss O’Hara won’t get hurt. But this means you must do as I ask of you. Securing her safety comes at a price.”

He stands as he continues to talk. “Get to know him, romance him, get him to trust you, and report every little detail to me, no matter how insignificant you think it might be. I want to know why that man is after me and why he wants me dead.”

Tears prick at your eyes, you look away from Kingpin’s intense stare. “I don’t like lying to him…” you murmur softly.

Warm but slightly clammy hands cup you under your chin, pulling your head to face him again. “But (Y/N), you’re now the sole reason why Mr. O’Hara’s daughter is safe from my clutches. He should be thanking you.”

Finally, he lets go of you but continues to talk.

“I know it’s not easy what I’m asking you to do. But you’re good at your job and you’re in the best position to do it,” he pauses for a moment, “just don’t get too attached…”

A painful dread fills your stomach and you’re pretty sure you’re going to throw up with severe anxiety.

Fisk heads for the front door.

“I’ll expect daily check-ins from you, so get a move on. Maybe arrange that baking session with the girl?” He offers an idea for your next plan of action before leaving your apartment and closing the door behind him.

You’re in utter shock, frozen in fear and sick with worry. The urge to cry is overwhelming. Last night you let your guard down and allowed yourself to get close to Miguel and now you’re running the risk of hurting both him and his daughter. Fisk’s grip on you is too strong. You know he’ll be unwilling to let you leave as you know too much and he has a use for you.

Knowing that your boss will be expecting a daily update, you slide your phone out of your pocket to get to work on your assignment. Your shaking hands makes texting all the more difficult.

“Hey Miguel. Found the box of cupcakes. Tell Gabi I say thank you and I look forward to having a taste.” You pause as a wave of nausea washes over you. Of course the cupcakes are now going to be bittersweet after the conversation you have just had with your boss. “I’d love to bake with her sometime. Just say when and where and I’ll be there! xx”

You hit send and slip the phone back in your pocket, then you start to put your groceries away to try and distract yourself.

***

Bloodied rubber gloves snap as Miguel pulls them off of his hands. He discards them in a bin reserved for items to be incinerated. Observing his knuckles, he notices they’re now sporting bright red and purple bruises. Despite the pain and the unattractive look about them, he smiles. Exiting the restroom in the Web, he greets Lyla who’s been waiting for him outside.

“Did you enjoy your gift?” she asks with a cheeky smile.

The sound of a cell phone buzzing vibrates from the mafia boss's back trouser pocket.

“I did - be sure to thank Hobie for fetching him for me. Peter’s dying to have his turn with the bastard tomorrow.”

Reaching into his back pocket and taking his phone, he reads the text he’s just received. An even brighter smile crosses his face as he sees it’s from you. He reads your message and begins to reply.

“Perfect! How about this coming Saturday? M.” He texts back, hoping the bruises on his knuckles will have vanished by then.

Lyla watches with intrigue, noticing his smile and a gleam in his eyes.

“Who is she?”

Miguel’s eyes snap up to Lyla suddenly after her intrusive question.

“No one…”

“C’mon boss, you never look at your phone and smile,” she pauses, “unless you have wind or something...”

“Shut up.”

He shoots Lyla a ‘ha, you’re so funny’ glare.

“Actually - you have been a little more chipper lately boss; you’re ‘getting some’ aren’t you?” Lyla grins with glee as she riles Miguel up.

“Another word on the subject, Lyla, and you’re losing your bonus for finding Fisk’s name.”

His PA grimaces in a cartoonish fashion and then sniggers.

“Alright! Alright! Sensitive much…” Lyla retorts. “What do you want to do about your latest addition to the Alchemax / ‘Kingpin’s goons’ collection?”

“Get Hobie to drag the kidnapping scum back into his cell. He’s unconscious so he won’t be kicking and screaming this time…”

***

Late Saturday morning, you nervously climb into the back of Miguel’s limo. He’s in his penthouse waiting with his daughter for you to arrive. You should be feeling excited, but instead you feel sick with nerves. Damn Fisk. Damn this whole thing. You’ve been single for ages now and the one time you find someone who you actually like, you have to freaking spy on him and betray his trust.

The only bit of information you have provided - reluctantly - to Kingpin so far is the fact that Miguel had a wife who died a few years ago.

You watch as the buildings go by while the limo drives through the city. Scanning each high-rise building, you wonder which one he lives in. What a wonderful view to wake up to every morning. Looking out over the city, like a King surveying his land.

A sensation of fluttering butterflies and wriggling worms combined stirred in your stomach. “Get to know him, romance him, get him to trust you.” Fisk’s words circled around your mind in a taunting fashion, driving you mad. You have even made an effort today. You painted your nails, put on a pretty pink dress, put makeup on and sprayed your favourite perfume, although annoyingly, you’ll now associate treachery and lies with the sweet, floral smell resting on your skin.

The limo finally pulls up outside a grand white towering building. A renewed sense of nervousness washes over you, disturbing those butterflies and worms in your stomach once again.

Climbing out of the limo, you look up at the building, tilting your head right back to see the top. Before entering the wide double doors on the ground floor, you reluctantly and indignantly take note of the address to offer as a nugget of information to Kingpin. An ache in your heart causes you to wince as you store your phone back in your bag. You haven’t seen him yet and you’re already gathering intel against him. Dread fills you once again the moment you think about what he’d do to you if he ever found out.

Stepping into the lift, you press the button for the penthouse as you take several deep breaths to calm your fraught nerves.

***

“Papa! She’s here!” you hear a muffled but excited young girl’s voice through the penthouse’s door as you wait for them to answer.

“Si mija, yo se,” (yes darling, I know) you hear her father respond in Spanish.

The door clicks as it unlocks and opens. You're greeted by an excited young girl and a smiling father whose eyes wander over your sweet appearance.

Gabi steps forward and takes your hand, pulling you in rather abruptly. You couldn’t help but giggle at her impatience to get things started.

“(Y/N)! I’ve got all the ingredients out ready for us to begin, come on, the kitchen’s this way!”

Miguel’s eyes catch yours as he mouths the word ‘sorry’, watching you be whisked past him. Closing the door, he then turns to see the back of you, your dress swishing with every step as you continue to make your way to their grand penthouse kitchen. Gabriella has been talking nonstop about you all morning. She’s been itching to spend some girly time with someone who’s willing. Miguel only hopes you enjoy the baking date with her.

“What flavour frosting shall we use? Chocolate? Lemon? Or strawberry?” The girl's eyes are wild with excitement, she’s practically skipping as she pulls you to the countertop with the ingredients laid out neatly.

“Why not all three flavours?” you offer as a suggestion as you crouch down to get closer to her height.

“Yes!” she squeaked enthusiastically.

Her bright face makes you instantly forget your troubles. They both have this effect on you that when you spend time with them you feel you’ve known them for ages. You click instantly.

Before you get to work weighing out the ingredients and helping Gabi with the cake mixture, you feel a sudden warm presence loom behind you. A cute apron is wrapped around you by Miguel with a charming smile spread across his lips.

“So you don’t ruin that pretty dress,” he whispers as you turn your head to face him slightly.

He returns your gaze as you feel him tie a bow behind your back around your waist to make sure the apron stays close to your body.

“Thank you,” you reply breathlessly as you feel his warm breath fan over your face.

“You’re welcome. I’ll preheat the oven…” he murmurs softly to you before stepping away, turning some dials on the kitchen appliance to switch it on and set the temperature.

With a light dusting of flour over Gabriella’s face - you have no clue how it got there - she tries to mix the ingredients together. Her little tongue poking out as she concentrates. As they begin to mix, it becomes more difficult for her much smaller arms to manage.

Rolling up his rather fetching white button-up shirt sleeves, Miguel steps forward.

“Want some help mija?”

“No papa, I want (Y/N) to help me.”

“Oh, okay…” he says, looking mildly surprised and a little disappointed.

It’s clear he’s not used to being turned down for help.

To keep everyone happy, you come up with an idea as a smile forms across your face.

“I’ll mix it for you, but maybe you should let your papa lick the spoon once the cupcakes are in the oven?” Gabi nods enthusiastically at you in response.

A light chuckle comes from Miguel as he sits at the kitchen table and watches the adorable sight before him. Gabriella always seems fairly happy, but today, she’s positively beaming. He observes you cradle the bowl in your arm while you mix the ingredients together. Dragging the spoon all around the sides, making sure you get everything thoroughly mixed. His daughter is transfixed on you, so is he, but both of them are looking at you for different reasons. One seeing you as a potential mother figure, the other, a potential partner to share his life with.

Of course there are hurdles to get over if the relationship did become serious. He couldn’t not tell you about his involvement in the criminal world. How would you react? Run for the hills he wagers… Despite only knowing you for a short time, he and Gabi seem to already consider you as the perfect person; the link they’re missing to keep a strong, loving family unit. His heart falls at the prospect of all that potential crumbling away because the idea of having a criminal husband scares you.

The clean, spacious and luxurious living area soon fills with the sweet smell of cakes baking in the oven. As Gabi passes the mixing spoon to her father, you take the time to observe the décor and furniture.

The prominent colour is white, hence the cleanliness vibes. The furniture, very sleek and modern. A large widescreen TV looming proudly against a wall in the open plan living room. You can imagine it being like a home cinema experience, huddled up on the sofa, sharing popcorn. A smile breaks across your face as you picture it in your mind. The father and daughter duo has an enviable setup here, although this penthouse is rather large just for the both of them.

You watch Miguel as he licks the spoon before playfully dabbing a small dollop of the cake mixture on his daughter’s nose. They both laugh. Your heart melts at the sight before an ice cold sensation suddenly takes hold. The reason you’re here in their penthouse and it wasn’t just for playing happy families, you have to get more information on him.

An alarm beeps away in the kitchen indicating the cupcakes are ready. The irresistible smell of freshly baked cakes fills the nostrils and warms the heart. Gabriella cheers excitedly as she watches you grab a pair of oven gloves and carefully take the baking tray out.

You prepare three frosting bags and help Gabi pipe pink, yellow and brown delicious toppings onto the cupcakes. They did look mouth-wateringly tasty, you have to admit.

Sweet creamy chocolate and vanilla flavours dance across your tongue as you enjoy the delightful treat. You hold out your hand to Gabriella hinting at wanting to give her a high five. She reciprocates and a quick slapping sound fills the air as both of your palms collide.

“Well done you. These are tasty Gabi,” you compliment her with enthusiasm.

“You helped! We made them together. Teamwork - yeah!”

Both you and Miguel chuckle at her as she raises her arms triumphantly before she turns to her father.

“Papa, can I take some cupcakes with me to uncle Gabri’s tonight? I think he’d like some too.”

“Sure mija. Go grab a couple.”

She runs off to go choose some to take to her uncle’s. You raise an eyebrow at Miguel as he sidles up to you. 

“My brother Gabriel said he’d take her tonight if you fancy staying for dinner at least?”

Your heart flutters. Another evening with Miguel the mafia man? While maintaining a smile, you feel a slight pang of anxiety strike too. This is exactly what Kingpin wants, but it’s also what you desire, for different reasons. You can’t resist, even if you didn’t have to gather intel. Spending at least an evening alone with Miguel sounded absolutely perfect.

***

It’s time for Gabriella to go for the night. She greets her funcle - yes - funcle, Gabriel at the front door of the penthouse. Miguel shakes his head at the two as Gabi goes running up to uncle Gabri and gets swooped up in his wide open arms.

“I always wonder why you get a far more enthusiastic greeting from my daughter than I do…” Miguel smirks as he approaches with a small bag full of Gabi’s things for the night.

Gabriel scruffs his niece’s hair as she hugs him.

“I dunno bro, maybe ‘cause we eat candy for dinner or she stays up way past her bedtime when she’s with me,” the wild, red haired brother replies as he sets Gabriella back down on the floor.

“OR,” he pauses, looking as though he’s been struck by an idea, “we share a special bond over incredibly similar names - good choice by the way…” He winks at his not so impressed brother.

Miguel gives his brother a stern eyebrow raise and glare as if to say ‘you better not be feeding her candy for dinner…’

“And that’s why she greets me like she does!” He then turns to Gabi and holds his finger up to his lips like their future dinner plans will now be their little secret.

You chuckle as you enjoy watching the cute family dynamic going on between the three. But the acoustics of the place carries your little laugh right into Gabri’s ears, causing him to look up. For a second he thinks he hears his deceased sister-in-law. His wide eyes land on you.

“Ah, this is she huh?” he asks his brother with interest.

Gabriel has never seen Miguel with a woman since his wife’s untimely death. His brother nods quietly in response. 

“Cool apron…” he says as he waves from across the room.

You look down, you forgot you were still wearing it.

“Oh…”

As you untie the apron, the ‘funcle’ turns back to his brother.

“Sheesh bro, you’ve known her for five minutes and you’re already getting her to cook for you?” he jokes, but winces and ducks out of the way from a lame, half hearted slap from Miguel. Gabi giggles at her father’s and uncle’s behaviour.

“Uncle Gabri, (Y/N) and I baked cupcakes. I’ve packed some for us to have later.”

“Oh fun! That could be our midnight snack or breakfast tomorrow- I’m kidding!”

Another duck from yet another slap from his brother.

Miguel’s extended hand that went in for a slap eventually landed on Gabriel’s shoulder and pats him firmly.

“Have fun - not too much fun though. Look after her-“ Miguel steps closer and speaks quietly, “any sign of trouble, call me. I don’t care what time it is…”

Gabri nods with an understanding expression on his face.

“Sure,” he replies before taking his niece’s bag and reaching out to take her hand.

“Be good mija,” Miguel says to his daughter before giving her a kiss and a cuddle.

“She’s an angel with me.” Gabriel retorts playfully, referring to their namesake causing Miguel to roll his eyes.

“Well, don’t forget what that makes me…” Gabi’s father folds his arms.

“Oh boy, come on Gabi, your father’s pulling the archangel Michael card again… he’s so predictable,” he drawls before grinning widely.

With a final duck from another pathetic slap attempt, Gabriel waves at you then to his brother when it’s safe to stand up straight again.

“Hopefully I’ll see you around (Y/N)! Nice to meet you!” he calls out.

You wave back with a smile.

“Nice to meet you too!”

With that, the two leave after Gabi waves goodbye to you too.

Silence fills the room momentarily.

“And then there were two…” Miguel comments as he saunters towards you causing your heart to flutter.

His gaze wanders over you and what you’re wearing. He stops walking when he reaches a comfortable distance between the two of you.

“Thanks for baking with Gabi. She was so excited about it. I just hope she wasn’t too much for you.”

“Are you kidding? I had a blast with her! You have the sweetest kid in the world.”

A slight blush accompanies a look of pride growing across his face.

“I’m glad you think so… it’s hard work being a single parent.”

“You’ve done a brilliant job, honestly.”

A flicker of sadness flashes across his face, but he blinks and clears his throat, denying the pain he still clearly feels for losing his wife.

“Well, now it’s just us two,” he says, refreshing his expression once again, making an effort to sound more chipper.

Miguel makes his way into the kitchen. Reaching into a cabinet, he takes out two wine glasses. After placing them on the countertop, he opens the wine chiller and takes out a bottle.

“Your brother seems like fun…”

“Oh, don’t encourage him. He’s insufferable if anyone inflates his ego.” 

You snort. The sibling banter and bickering is something you totally adore.

The brothers look very similar too, except for the difference in hair colour. There’s some good, strong, handsome genetics at play there. However, you feel Miguel is the better of the two.

“Who’s the oldest?” you ask as you watch him begin to pour chilled white wine into the two glasses.

Miguel gives a toothy grin, making you assume that he’s the eldest brother. Which seems accurate. The older sibling being the more serious one, while the younger is funny and carefree.

You sit at the kitchen table while you watch Miguel start to cook dinner.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to help?” you ask for possibly the fifth time already.

“I’m fine. You baked earlier, I cook,” he responds, speaking over the sizzling fillets of steak in the frying pan.

The scent of the cooking meat, marinade and spices permeates the air, causing your stomach to rumble when you smell it.

“What are we having for dinner again?” you ask before taking a sip of your cool, dry white wine.

“Carne Asada - a popular Mexican dish.”

You can understand why, it smelt incredible! While he cooks the steak, he also prepares fresh green vegetables, and potatoes drizzled in a vinaigrette. Just the thought of eating it makes you salivate.

“Dinner is served,” Miguel says a few moments later as he brings the plates to the table.

The food smells even better now it’s up close and directly under your nose.

“Do you enjoy cooking?” you ask him as he takes his seat opposite you.

“Yeah, when I have time for it. I don’t cook as much as I’d like to. But it’s enjoyable when I do.”

Taking your first mouthful is exquisite. The taste of the tender, juicy steak mixed with the spices and marinade danced across your tongue. You couldn’t help but moan, causing Miguel to double-take at you.

“Oh God. This is incredible!”

“That’s a first, I’ve never made someone moan with my cooking before,” he pauses as he considers something, “but I rarely entertain people so maybe that’s why.”

“Why’s that?”

“Just busy. Work life, single parent life, just hardly in the mood to entertain,” another pause, “it’s been great having you here today though. I’ve enjoyed it. It’d be nice to have you around again,” he says hopefully.

“Well, I feel honoured to be part of the lucky few you do entertain.”

Miguel snorts at your words.

“Lucky few? Lucky one.”

You should feel special about that. In normal circumstances you would. But you feel awful, that the one person he wants to invite over is the one person he really shouldn’t. Taking another mouthful, you try to hide your discomfort and guilt.

Indignation grows inside of you, bubbling away in your mind. You really like him. It seems like a cruel twist of fate that you’re enjoying getting to know the man you’re supposed to be spying on. The man who your boss has designs on eliminating. You absolutely despise the situation you’re in.

“I’m really touched, it’s so sweet that you’ve opened up your home to me, despite your regular commitments.”

Guilt is racking up in your mind exponentially. Parts of you are tempted to self sabotage, crumble in front of him and tell him the full reason why you agreed to visit him today. Maybe he won’t take it as badly as you expect? Or maybe he will? Would he offer you protection, if he wasn’t overwhelmed with the feeling of being betrayed? There is so much uncertainty, you decide to keep your mouth shut, despite the unbearable discomfort of the truth wanting to burst out of you.

The both of you continue to eat the delicious food together while maintaining a pleasant conversation. As time goes by, you start to feel contact as his leg finds yours under the table. It felt warm and inviting. You’re suddenly reminded of the intimate moments you shared on your date, triggering a blush to spread across your cheeks immediately. You both share a glance in silence. His tempting gaze tugs at your heart, enticing you to want him.

Just before you are totally ready to spring across the table and kiss him passionately, he moves to take the empty plates to the sink. He’s teasing you, you just know it.

“How about dessert?” he asks, chuckling slightly after seeing your growing indignation as he gets up from the table.

Maybe he wants you to give in and beg him to take you? But you’re stronger than that. You can play his game.

“Dessert sounds perfect.”

“I have strawberries. They’re nice and sweet.”

“I’d love some.”

He brings a bowl full of the juicy red fruit and sets it down on the table. But instead of taking the seat opposite, he now sits next to you, wearing a charming smile on his face. His radiating warmth, melting away your worries temporarily, replacing them with comfort.

The strawberries look sweet and succulent, probably grown in very fertile earth and in the perfect climate. You can only imagine how they’ll taste. You move to take one but his hand stops you. He shakes his head, that teasing stare returning.

“Let me, cariño,” he whispers.

You gulp as you squeeze your legs together. The anticipation is driving you wild.

Picking up a strawberry, he brings it to your lips.

“Careful, these can be very juicy. But they’re incredibly moreish.”

You take a bite, your teeth cutting into the flesh of the delicious fruit. Its sweetness delighting your tastebuds immediately. You manage to bite half of it, then watch in surprise as he eats the remainder.

“Oh my God, these are delicious.”

Miguel smiles at your reaction. He’s clearly enjoying setting the mood and upping the sexual tension.

“They are, aren’t they?"

He takes another; feeding you again, which you’re now very much willing to accept.

Each time he feeds you, he leans closer. It starts off subtle, but you suddenly notice when you feel his warm breath fan across your face.

The next strawberry is particularly juicy and full of flavour. You suddenly move to try and stop it from dripping from your lips but you squeal in surprise when he leans in, sealing his mouth on yours. His tongue makes sure that none of the sweet nectar from the fruit is wasted. A moan vibrates against your lips as he enjoys the taste of the fruit and your pretty mouth.

Putting the half eaten strawberry back down in the bowl, he scoops you up off your chair and carries you bridal style up the stairs to his bedroom.

***

A trail of clothes leads up to his bed. First are your shoes, then his. Next, your dress - he had to put you down for that. Then his shirt - which you assisted him in. Even closer to the bed are his trousers.

On the bed, your shaking legs are held wide open as he enjoys a different kind of nectar. Your nectar. Hanging from one ankle is your panties while he holds your legs in place, his tongue, teasing, licking and flicking your sensitive bud and your dripping pussy. Lapping hungrily at your nether region as if he hadn’t just eaten dinner. Fingers digging into the soft, smooth flesh of your thighs as he enjoys eating you out. He lays flat on the bed with his head firmly between your legs. His eager hips grind sensually against the duvet and mattress.

He loves hearing your needy moans and your helpless little whimpers. Feeling your body shake and writhe only encouraged him to do it with even more conviction.

“Cariño, I haven’t stopped thinking about you since our evening out together,” he mumbles seductively after coming up for air.

You moan due to the absence of his mouth around your clit. His words are sweet and you love them, but they drag up yet more guilt within you. You wish he would just simply continue doing what he’s doing.

“Do you feel the same hermosa?”

From between your quivering thighs, his gaze meets yours in an intense but enticing manner. How can you resist that face?

“Of course I can’t stop thinking about you- Oh God!”

At the end of your reply, he goes back in for another round of licking and teasing, cutting your words off. You arch your back off of the bed as he resumes with fervour. He begins to groan as you notice his body moving more, his hips still grinding into the mattress.

“I-” he licks you, “want-” he sucks on you, “you-” he flicks you with his tongue, “cariño…” his words die out at the end as he leans back in again. The motions of his tongue feel even stronger this time. You squeal in delight as you can’t resist throwing your hands down to his gorgeous, brown, slicked back hair.

To add to the delightful sensations between your legs, you feel two fingers run up and down your sensitive folds, getting soaked with your arousal. Eventually they plunge in, twisting and pumping gently as he slowly pulls his mouth away from your swelling bud. Before you can complain, his thumb replaces his lips, pressing firmly and running in a circular motion.

“Are you on any birth control (Y/N)?” he asks, his voice ragged and full of lust.

You nod between heavy pants and loud moans of pleasure.

He shifts himself further up your body, his hand remaining in place between your legs. You get a taste of yourself as he presses his lips against yours in a passionate and heated kiss. A muffled groan enters your mouth from his, as his arousal starts to take over.

Slowly he got on his knees after breaking the kiss with you. Before you is an unforgettable sight. You knew he had a nice shape about him and there’d be some muscle definition. But this body in front of you is a body made by the Gods. His hands travelled to the top of his boxer briefs, a large bulge underneath catches your attention. You had a feeling that he was big from when you ground against it the other night, but not that big. Your legs squeeze together, wondering how the hell he’s going to fit.

As he pulls down the material of his boxer briefs, you finally see exactly how big he is. You couldn’t stop yourself from gasping.

“Holy shit!” you exclaim as you sit up on the bed, definitely squeezing your legs together.

Miguel chuckles as he tosses his boxer briefs aside and rests his hands on your shoulders. You feel him gently push you back, laying you down against his soft bed sheets.

“Relax (Y/N). We’ll go slow, I promise. You’ll be surprised at just how much you’ll be able to fit.”

Leaning down over the top of you, he begins to kiss your lips and slowly travels over your jawbone, down your neck to your collarbone. His fingers burrow underneath you and unclasps your bra, freeing your beautiful breasts for him.

“Such a beauty,” he whispers after stopping peppering your neck with kisses.

“Muy bonita…”

You feel him kiss your neck again, tenderly, gently and sweetly. His heat radiates down upon you, giving you that delicious melting sensation along your spine. The sheer weight and size of this man presses down into the mattress. On one hand, his build makes you feel safe and protected, but on the other, you feel in certain danger. What he ends up knowing about you will decide whether you’ll be locked in his secure embrace, or locked in a cold, dank cell.

“Can I take you as I am, or should I find a condom?” he murmurs against your neck; his voice, deep, heavy and full of desire. You can’t bear the thought of his hot, comforting body leaving you again to go looking for a condom, and you’re on the pill so you give him permission to enter you as nature intended.

Miguel’s large frame shifts again over you as he positions himself at your entrance. Your heart pounds as you feel he’s about to perform a magic trick - making his entire length disappear.

“I’ll go slow…” he assures you as the large head of his cock kisses your entrance.

With a nod in response, you tell him it’s okay to proceed. Slowly, he pushes into you. Your whole body tenses and your breath hitches at the gradual invasion. As promised; he’s gentle, slow and tender. Pausing occasionally, allowing you to stretch around his long, thick throbbing shaft. Making it easier for you to accommodate him.

He pushes forward even further. Unable to resist, you close your eyes as you take even more. He’s right, you are surprised by just how much of him you’re taking.

Small, dainty fingers graze his sides, causing his body to jolt slightly at your tickling touch. You hear a deep throaty groan spilling from his lips, prizing your eyes open, you observe his brows furrowing with blissful pleasure, which in turn makes you lose your composure.

He’s inside you, his panting breath fans over your face while his strong arms cage you underneath him. Those handsome eyes turn you into mush as you return his gaze.

“You’re taking me so well, cariño,” he praises you, drawing his cock almost all the way back out again. Your jaw drops as you suddenly feel empty. That is soon remedied however as he starts once more, slowly pushing back in, but a fraction faster this time.

“Aah! Miguel!” you call out in pleasure as he fills you again, stretching your warm, needy pussy.

You find that you love his praise, especially when he whispers it to you so close to your ear. His warm breath spreads tingles like wildfire all over your body.

As you wrap around his eager length, your limbs cling onto him as if you’re holding on for dear life. He smirks down at you as he watches you adjust, however he feels both his and your body are now demanding for something a bit faster paced.

Gradually, his tempo speeds up while he adds grinding against your clit into the mix. The charming smirk spreads wider as he observes you melt further into the bed, crying out for more.

“You feel so good and you’re doing so, so well.”

His praise takes it all to the next level. You feel you can take him even faster and at a greater intensity.

“Fuck me M-Miguel!” you splutter with urgency in your voice.

“You want me to fuck you cariño?”

“Yes - please!”

“Tell me to stop at any time if it gets too much.”

You watch his jaw clench, his muscles tense and you hear a grunt; just as he gives an almighty thrust. Drawing almost all the way out, he slams back into you. Your body immediately responds. Every single nerve ending ignites. All muscles tense. Your lungs suddenly draw in a sharp intake of air.

“Miguel!” you moan loudly.

He’s pounding into you, pumping his dick hard and fast in and out. A sex fueled haze fogs your mind as you become drunk on the pleasure of his shaft penetrating you.

“That’s it cariño, call out my name…” he purrs with heavy lidded eyes.

You repeat as he maintains his punishing thrusts. Each time you cry out his name, he moans and tilts his head back. His name spilling from your lips is like music to his ears.

He feels so good inside of you that you never want him to leave. It’s like he’s filling a piece of you that you didn’t know was missing. Watching him on top of you, dominating you, fucking you made you wish this moment would last forever. At this moment, you’re not spying on him, you’re not betraying him, you’re not working for the opposition. The world around you is reduced to nothing, everything else other than you two is insignificant.

Miguel’s grunts signifying his intense effort fogs your mind further, his moans of pleasure builds that tightening in your core. You’re clenching around his cock, you’re close.

“Fuck, hermosa. Cum for me- Oh fuck!”

You both erupt with pleasure as you climax. His thrusts slow but they deepen inside you. Lowering his body, he presses himself against you, seeking that blissful contact with your skin. His hot and heavy breaths fan and caress against your face and neck as you cry out his name multiple times. Your bodies glisten with sweat after the intense lovemaking session.

The sound of sweet and tender kisses fill the air as the afterglow sets in. He remains inside, but you notice he’s gradually softening. An undeniable and sad ache fills your core knowing that he’ll be departing you soon and reality will return.

He draws himself out of you, sparking a sob you didn’t know you had in you to erupt and tears well in your eyes.

Immediately his brows furrowed with concern.

“Cariño? Que pasa?”

His hands cup under your chin as he monitors you.

And now the lying begins… The stress of doing what Kingpin is asking of you is rising higher inside you. But you can’t tell Miguel that.

“I’m sorry,” you sob again. “It felt too good. I didn’t want it to end.”

It isn’t exactly a lie. You really didn’t want it to end. It felt incredible and it was a perfect distraction from reality.

Laying next to you, he pulls you into his arms, positioning you half on top of him.

“You had me worried, cariño. Never have I ever made a girl cry during or just after sex. I’m just glad it’s good crying.”

His hand plays with your hair idly as has your head resting against his perfectly chiselled chest.

“Heh… yeah… good crying…” you reply.

The comforting sound of his heart beating in your ear starts to calm your nerves. You feel soothed as he strokes your hair.

“Well, I guess it’s encouraging in a way. It means you want more.”

A tired smile breaks across your face as your fingertips wander over his chest and abs.

“I definitely do want more.”

The mafia man kisses the top of your head delicately.

“Your wish is my command, just say the word.”

***

That evening, the dark of the night shrouds Fisk tower. Lights still illuminate a handful of windows at that late hour. One of the lit windows is Kingpin’s, right at the very top.

The large mafia boss paces his room as one of his staff gives him some news.

“We’ve tried getting hold of Russell several times in the last few days, there’s no response. We think he’s been taken by O’Hara.”

Fisk slams his hands down on the desk angrily. Frustration builds inside him. Yet another disappearance, but this time it’s one of his own men and not someone from Alchemax. He supposed it didn’t take O’Hara long to work out who was behind the abduction attempt. It’s clear that someone who works for the opposition’s leader is talented at tracking people down.

“Damnit!” he seethes.

“Any word on Mr. Garcia?”

“No news on his whereabouts sir, however, what confuses us about him is that his wife has also gone missing.”

A deep frustrated sigh vents from Fisk’s lips. Staring into the distance he tries to solve the puzzle himself. The names of the missing people from Alchemax circles in his mind. The name O’Hara also starts to ring a distinct bell. His eyebrows rise slightly as an idea strikes him.

“Fetch me a folder labelled 2099 from the archives,” Kingpin demands, his voice a deep growl.

----------

Part 5

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[theroseceleste]

Pilot Miguel - Part 11 - My Hero

Miguel seems to be in a bit of a mood and a celebrity passenger only seems to worsen it. However, all problems have to be put aside in an emergency situation.

Word count - 4172

Minors DNI

If you don't want spoilers, don't read the 'contains' bit below.

Contains : Jealous behaviour, flight incident - bird ingestion / engine failure, emergency landing - no casualties. Smut : Fingering, mutual masturbation, penetrative sex.

Enjoy! xx

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

There’s excitement in the staff lounge at Adolfo Suárez Madrid-Barajas airport. A celebrity is going to be on your flight and obviously, you’ll be serving him in first-class. Sergio Velasquez, who is only just the handsomest actor in the film industry; nominated for many Oscars and seemingly the nicest man in the world.

You and Miguel turn up in the staff lounge, on a rare occasion where he flies you back to Nueva York after having flown you to Madrid just a couple of days before.

The last forty-eight hours have once again been magical and you have enjoyed spending time with your man, wandering around the city and making mad, passionate love together in your hotel room.

“Oh my God, oh my God…” you mutter under your breath excitedly when you hear about Sergio Velasquez.

Miguel looks down at you, as he thrusts his phone into his pocket.

“What’s the matter?” he asks you, looking slightly irritated, but not at you.

You stare back up at him.

“Sergio Velasquez… You know; charming actor, famous, really nice guy…”

Your tone almost sounds dreamy as you imagine what meeting him is going to be like.

Miguel huffs in a disinterested manner.

“So what?”

You blink at him in surprise, but it’s clear that Miguel really does not understand what all the excitement is about.

“Just another passenger to me…”

Rolling your eyes slightly at him, you scoff.

“So what? He’ll be the first celebrity passenger I’ve ever served, and the one I’ve been most keen to meet.”

“Ahh, well, you know what they say, (Y/N). Never meet your heroes,” Peter interrupts as he steps into the conversation.

“Peter!” you cry out happily and give him a hug.

So much has happened since you last saw the co-pilot and you’re thrilled to see him. He always makes your flights interesting and full of good humour.

“Hey Migs, how are you doing? Good to see you again,” Peter says as he holds his hand out to the Captain who audibly groans upon hearing the name ‘Migs’.

He reluctantly takes Peter’s hand and shakes it.

“Let me guess, Lyla told you that nickname?”

“Sure did!”

“Here’s some advice – forget the name.” Miguel replies as he lets go of Peter’s hand and adjusts his tie.

Despite having an amazing time with you for two days in Spain, it seems his mood has plummeted even lower than normal. You notice he’s received a few texts which you feel troubles him.. And now his mood has worsened at the mention of the celebrity. Is he… jealous?

Peter shrugs and moves on to say hello to another member of the cabin crew, leaving you alone with Miguel once more.

“You’re not - jealous are you babe?” you whisper quietly so only he can hear.

He scoffs as he raises an unimpressed eyebrow at you.

“Jealous? Why would I be jealous of Sergio Velasquez?”

He’s totally jealous…

“Okay, so Migs is a ‘no-go’ for you, so what can I call you?” Peter asks as he takes his seat on the right of the cockpit.

Most of Miguel’s attention is on the weather report. Decent conditions are forecast until approaching Nueva York in the evening.

“Checks, Parker.”

“Checks? That’s an odd name-“

“Tch…” he tuts, “not my name! Do. Your. Checks!”

Peter goes red in the face, partially out of embarrassment but also frustration. No one struggles warming up to him, so why is Captain O’Hara being super prickly?

Without another word he does his once-over checks on his side of the controls. Everything looks in good working order.

Miguel is now reading the plane’s log-book. Once again, a squeaky clean history. No issues or malfunctioning equipment. Feeling satisfied, he stuffs the book back where he found it.

“You can call me Miguel,” he finally responds to Peter, unable to shake off feeling a little bad about his outburst earlier.

Since his recent contact with Xina, and her persistent pestering, he feels a little on edge most of the time.

“Miguel - nice name,” Peter replies with a compliment, but it doesn’t match his usual warmth.

The Captain frowns. He’s finally managed to shut Flight Officer Parker up, but at what cost? Then he casts his mind to you while he does his equipment checks. He wonders what you’re doing and if you’ve met Sergio Velasquez.

“Good afternoon Mr Velasquez, such an honour to be serving you today,” you stutter ever so slightly as you greet the actor you’ve liked for quite a while now.

After taking a look at his ticket you show him to his seat and offer him a glass of champagne. He gives you a weak smile and he continues to wear his sunglasses despite being inside the plane.

“Thanks,” he mutters to you quietly as he takes the glass and makes himself comfortable.

Your immediate thought is that he’s probably faced a bunch of fans at the airport and simply wants some time to himself, which you can understand, of course.

There is a slight delay as it takes a while to get all passengers on board. Some are running late and have put everything on hold. During that time you check on the pilots to see if they need any quick refreshments before they’re committed to takeoff. Peter asks for water, but Miguel just shakes his head in response.

After a quick trip into the galley you return with a cup of water for Flight Officer Parker as the last few passengers come on board and put their bags in the overhead lockers.

“How’s Sergio?” your boyfriend asks with mock interest.

“Awww, you do care,” you tease Miguel, ruffling the back of his hair as Peter looks away to get his checklist ready.

“He’s alright - quiet. Not quite like how I expected.”

“Never meet your heroes,” Peter repeats from earlier, but you sense he’s in a mood now, too.

Silence fills the cockpit as you look at both of the pilots with a concerned frown.

“Is everything o—“

“Hello?”

You hear someone calling out near the entrance to the cockpit, grabbing your attention immediately.

“Shit, that’s him…” you mutter.

As you step away, Miguel opens his grumpy mouth to speak as he smooths over his now messy hair.

“Yes, you go deal with him.”

His words make both you and Peter look at him with a stunned expression. This is unlike him when you’re around…

Stepping back towards Miguel, you allow yourself to wrap your arms around his shoulders in front of Peter - you trust him. A quick, soft and tender kiss is delivered to his cheek, making him freeze on the spot, eyes fixed on the apparatus before him.

“Be good,” you whisper against his cheek while your hand strokes the other, immediately causing his heart to pound hard in his chest.

Pulling yourself away, you give a flabbergasted Peter a wink before leaving the cockpit to deal with Sergio.

Miguel can feel Peter’s eyes on him.

“Don’t even think about saying anything…”

Peter raises his hands placatingly.

“Absolutely. Staying out of this one.”

Despite not saying anything, he wonders just what has happened between the both of you since he last saw you in Acapulco. He hopes that Miguel treats you better than how he just did too.

“We need to start pre-flight checks…” Miguel mutters quietly in hope to get out of this awkward situation.

Despite still feeling your kiss on his skin and the sound of it lingering in his ear. An unignorable and uncomfortable squeezing around his heart continues. Jealousy is an ugly feeling and he hates the fact he’s behaving the way he is. It’s suffocating and heavy in his chest. He trusts you, but despises the fact that another man that gets you excited is receiving your attention right now…

You sigh as you finally strap yourself in the jump seat. Sergio has been giving you the runaround, whilst not being particularly pleasant about it either.

He asked for a new glass of champagne as his first drink was ‘too bubbly’ for his liking, and insisted that the cabin was too dark despite you telling him numerous times it was because he was still wearing his sunglasses. It’s safe to say you’re not looking forward to the rest of the flight, but feeling thankful for this respite as the plane begins its journey to the runway.

As you wait for the plane to take off, you hear the usual sound of passengers talking to their neighbours, a calm and peaceful atmosphere until the engines start to roar. You get thrusted forward a little more than usual out of your seat as your back faces the front of the plane.

You might be a little paranoid, but you can’t help but think Miguel’s foul mood is reflected in how the plane behaves. Perhaps he’s a little overzealous with the thrusters today?

The air above the runway shimmers in the heat as the Boeing-747 tears its way along it, engines screaming as all four of them push hard to get 397 tons at the right speed to take flight.

The familiar dropping sensation in your stomach tells you that all wheels have left the ground and the back of the plane looks like it’s at the bottom of an incredibly steep hill.

Inside the cockpit, both pilots are silent as they monitor the equipment. Miguel presses a switch that calls back the landing gear, stowing them away in the plane’s belly. A clunking sound indicates that the automatic doors have shut the wheels in.

Everything seems completely normal until the two men hear a loud bang, shaking the whole plane and making them flinch. Lights on the cockpit dashboard illuminate, highlighting that engine three is in total shut-down.

“Mierda!” (Shit!) Miguel yells as his mind runs rapidly, remembering the emergency landing procedure.

The bang is heard throughout the fuselage, followed by panicked screams and yelps of shock on the right hand side of the aircraft. Some passengers witness one of the four engines suffer a catastrophic failure. Flames burst out of the back, spurring chaos.

Your heart pounds as various thoughts rush through your mind all at once. What the hell has happened and if Miguel and Peter are okay?

If there is ever a time to panic, now is not it. After the initial shock, both pilots revert to their extensive training that got them here in the first place.

“Mayday, mayday, flight AA-1610 has suffered what we suspect is a bird ingestion in engine three. Requesting priority to circle round and land immediately.”

Peter sounds calm and collected as he radios the air traffic control tower. As he does this, Miguel levels the plane out to stop it from climbing any higher.

“Understood flight AA-1610, can you confirm you still have control of the aircraft?” a man in air traffic control asks.

“Yes, we can still control the aircraft,” Peter answers plainly.

“Okay, I will be advising all flights in the air and on the ground to hold until you land. And I will request the assistance from airport emergency services.”

Miguel has been given the all clear to land. He banks the plane in a gentle turn to loop back and approach the runway for an emergency landing.

Back in the cabin, you hear Miguel inform the passengers and crew of the emergency landing and suspected bird ingestion resulting in the engine failure. To your relief, he sounds unphased and calm. Unlike Sergio who has suddenly gone very pale and begun whimpering. You’re starting to see him in a new light, and it’s not very flattering…

Passengers try and peer out of their windows to try and see the engine. Thankfully they’re not screaming or yelling. It seems Miguel has done a good job not to incite panic with the passengers with his announcement.

You feel the plane tilt as it makes its final approach. As it lines up with the runway, other planes loop around higher in the sky as they wait to be cleared to land.

Another clunking sound is heard through the fuselage, causing the already nervous passengers to worry even more, but you know that is the sound of the landing gear lowering and locking into place.

As Miguel brings the plane lower towards the runway, he can see emergency vehicles poised to roll along after the aircraft, ready to assist if needed. Some of them are fire trucks and a few others are ambulances in case there are any casualties should things become dire.

Despite being down one engine, the plane is flying exceptionally well. It still handles perfectly to get them back down on the ground safely.

The landing gear connects with land as smoothly as he can make it. Flaps on the wings extended at the fullest setting to slow the plane down before taxiing off the runway.

Cheers and applause are heard throughout the cabin as passengers feel great relief to be back on terra-firma. You spot Sergio blubbering, pressing his hands together as if to thank God for surviving a traumatic experience.

Despite rolling your eyes at him, you, too, feel like crying, but out of sheer pride for Miguel and Peter for dealing with the situation so professionally and efficiently. Everyone is safe on the ground thanks to them and their ability to fly and remain calm in an otherwise stressful situation.

Thankfully, there is a spare gate for the damaged plane to park at. It is safe to go near the terminal as the flames on the engine went out on their own after it died completely.

All on board are going to have to re-enter the terminal to wait for another plane to be organised by AracnAir for their flight to Nueva York. Some passengers feel thankful to be alive, others know this is the beginning of a painful wait in the airport while things are re-organised.

You itch to see Miguel but you have to do your duties of saying goodbye to all passengers and assisting those who need help. Sergio takes his time to leave as his phone is blowing up after tweeting about nearly dying on a flight. It seems the drama extends beyond the films in which he plays… Yes, what happened is serious, but the plane can fly pretty well with one or two engines out - it’s just not advisable.

Finally, everyone is gone, including Sergio. You’re glad to see the back of him. Peter is right and you begin to wonder if he’s ever run into his hero and regretted it.

You loiter in the galley, pacing it with anticipation while your other colleagues have already left. You know better than to interrupt the pilots when they’re completing their final checklists, shutting the plane’s systems down safely.

Eventually, the cockpit door clicks open, and the brave pilots emerge. The Flight Officer holds up his hand for a high five but you plough into him for a friendly hug, surprising both him and Miguel.

“Well done, you,” you mutter to him, giving him a squeeze with your arms.

Peter pats his hand against your back, obviously touched by your sweet gesture.

“Thank you (Y/N),” replies as you release him and then turn to face Miguel.

“And you too…”

Your man catches you in his arms, holding you close in his embrace. Finally, a smile breaks across his lips.

“You both did amazing and I’m so proud of you.”

Peter can’t believe what he’s seeing. He’s not entirely sure he’s seen a smile that wide on Miguel’s face, he pinches himself to see if he’s dreaming - nope, definitely awake.

“I’ll uhh, leave you two to it…” Peter begins, but Miguel steps forward, still holding you with one arm.

“Wait.”

Flight Officer Parker glances back up to the Captain.

“Thank you, Peter. I’m glad I had you with me today. And…” he pauses for a second as he puts you back down. “I should probably apologise to both of you. I was being a dick earlier and, I’m sorry.”

“Water under the bridge,” Peter replies, he’s not the type to hold grudges.

He extends his arm and pats Miguel on the shoulder.

“I’ve got to go and call my wife - excuse me.”

The Captain nods and then looks down at you as Peter makes his way off of the plane. Miguel wraps his arm around you, keeping you close.

“Come on chiquita, I guess we have at least one more day in Madrid,” he whispers to you, despite you two being the only ones there.

As you both walk into the terminal through the gate, you’re completely alone. The rest of your colleagues are way ahead of you.

Miguel holds onto you tightly, his arm firm around your waist. There is no longer any care for if anyone does see the two of you. He wants people to know that you’re his, and he is yours. Sergio Velasquez’s presence did make him jealous, he admits that now - to himself. But also, before he knew it was the engine that got destroyed, his first thought was you after hearing the concerning sound that shook the aircraft. For a split second, he thought something awful happened to you. It seems strange that he felt relieved it was a catastrophic failure of an engine instead. In that moment, his mind prioritised you over four-hundred passengers and cabin crew.

He looks back through the large windows of the gate at the giant, wounded, metal bird. A darkened, charred engine hangs under the right wing. The damaged turbine, missing blades, while the remainders are twisted and warped. It reminds him just how much worse things could have been and he’s thankful that he and Peter worked together like a well oiled machine to bring the plane safely back to the airport.

There’s a bathroom ahead along the corridor leading back to customs. After what has happened, he’s left feeling the urgent need to shower you with love. To make up for his jealous behaviour earlier.

With a quick glance around to check that you both are truly alone, he pulls you into the bathroom with no warning. You squeal at the sudden change of direction but you don’t complain when you find yourself shut in the room, alone with him. His lips against yours in a matter of seconds and his hands roaming your body as though he has never touched you before.

“Necesito tenerte, ahora,” (I need to have you, now) he whispers against your lips, his breath shaking with overwhelming need.

He takes your breath away with his urgency. You feel the bathroom door press against your back and you hear him sliding the lock into place.

“People will hear when they walk past,” you gasp out as he pulls the hem of your skirt up over your hips.

“I don’t care…” he moans as his fingers massage your clit through your panties.

Your moan follows soon after as you open your legs slightly to allow him better access.

“Lo siento chiquita…” Miguel groans against your lips.

“What for?” you ask breathlessly, brows knitting together as pleasure rushes around your body.

Eventually his fingers find the edge of your panties and pull them to one side. Running the tips of his digits against your aroused entrance.

“I lied,” he pauses to kiss you on the lips. “I was jealous.” Another kiss is planted on your cheek. “I trust you.” Another kiss against your neck. “I just didn’t like that Sergio was getting your attention.”

Now it all makes sense. You’re not mad at him. He was rude to you, yes, but he’s apologised for it. You can even understand him, remembering the times when your female colleagues were practically salivating over him. It feels like a punch in the gut, even though he never entertained the thought of being with anyone else.

His fingers plunge inside of you, making you tip your head back in pleasure and almost cry out at the sensation of his warm fingers massaging you.

It’s irresistible, you can’t help but grind yourself against his hand, seeking more contact against your clit and a deeper reach of his fingers.

“Ride my hand, that’s it chiquita,” me murmurs against your lips again as you hear the clinking of his belt buckle.

“I want you nice and wet for me.”

His fingers reach deeper, as the heel of his palm rubs against your swelling, sensitive bud. The words he uses and his actions always get you aroused - without fail.

As you remain pressed against the bathroom door, you see that he’s unfastened his belt and unzipped his pants. Reaching forward, your fingers tug on the taut hem of his boxer briefs and pull them down, his twitching cock springs free, pre-cum already beading at the tip.

“Mmmm… touch me there, por favor…”

His hand guides yours to his length, wrapping your fingers around it and pulls it up and down to get you started.

“Like that baby, sí…” he moans as his hips thrust forwards gently.

You feel his digits pump into you harder, desperate to get you ready, although he doesn’t think you’re far off.

The bathroom is soon full of yours and his moans of pleasure as you mutually play with one another. He breathes deeply as if he’s trying to control himself. Champing at the bit to take you, to fuck you, to make love to you.

Your lips part wider as a gasp escapes your mouth. He pulls out of you, leaving you feeling empty before he grabs you under your ass and lifts you up. There’s a thud against the door as he presses you against it, preparing to fill you with his throbbing shaft.

“I need to be inside you, baby…”

His words are practically spoken into your mouth as he kisses and talks at the same time. Feeling fogged with need, he doesn’t know what action to stop and what to start. All that he does know is that he needs to feel you wrapping around him, clenching on his dick.

He lets you slide down the door slightly until he’s able to thrust into you, filling and stretching you instantly.

“Miguel~!” you squeal before covering your mouth.

“Say it, say my name, I don’t care who hears us…”

The door bangs as he pumps into you. At first, you’re on edge; worried who might hear, but when he starts hitting the right spot inside you, all your worries fade away. Care and concern seeps out of you as all you can think about is him panting in your ear, fucking you harder as each minute goes by.

“Fuck! So good!”

He grits his teeth and grunts into your ear. His fingers dig into your flesh as he holds you under your thighs.

Your hand finds the door handle for something to hold onto. His thrusts are beginning to push you over the edge.

“Baby - I’m gonna…” you gasp as he pumps even harder, those bangs getting louder.

“Yes! That’s it. I’m not far behind-” Grunt.

Your world comes crashing down, in the best way possible. Ecstasy consumes your body, washing over you like a tidal wave and you tumble along with it, following the flow it pushes you in. You’re lost to the feeling of him inside you, to his sounds vibrating in your ear and his hot breath against your neck.

Finally his body shudders hard as he groans, the ultimate pleasure overwhelming him too. He slows his movements and rests his head against yours.

“Two days with you isn’t enough chiquita,” he mumbles, trying to catch his breath.

“I need more…”

You nuzzle against him as you recover. Your legs wrapped around him, holding him still inside you.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, chiquita, I want us to go away on holiday. Where I can have you all to myself, somewhere sunny and warm so I can see you dressed in nothing but bikinis and pretty dresses.”

Your teeth bite down on your lip as you listen to his answer. A retreat sounds perfect.

“Where do you have in mind?” you eventually ask as you feel him prepare to pull out and lower you to the floor.

“I hear Tenerife this time of year is great.”

The both of you get yourselves cleaned up and fix your clothing.

“So, was it good to meet Sergio?” Miguel asks, as he does up his zip.

You give a shrug while you roll your skirt back down your thighs and smooth over the material.

“Peter’s right. Never meet your heroes.”

A quizzical eyebrow raises at your response. He can’t deny feeling a lot happier hearing this.

“Besides, I have a new hero now.”

The quizzical eyebrow is joined by another, completing a more surprised expression on his face.

“Oh? And who might that be?”

You lean into him, pulling on his shirt to get him down to your level.

“You’re my hero…”

I hope you enjoyed part 11!

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Pilot Miguel - Part 12 - Romantic Getaway

Miguel steals you away to the Canary Islands, specifically to Tenerife. What sort of adventures will you share together?

Word count - 3697

Minors DNI

Contains : Mentions of sex, nothing too graphic. Mostly fluff and perhaps a moment of confrontation.

AND - Yes, the photos included are from my trip there. My husband and I took these pictures.

AND- Yes, the spectacle that happened at the end did in fact happen. Probably one of the most amazing things I've seen in my life.

Enjoy! xx

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

If you enjoy this fic, please consider liking, commenting or re-blogging. Many thanks xx

The summer sun beats down on Playa Paraiso, a south-western part of Tenerife. A large island owned by Spain off of the west coast of Africa. It is just one of seven of the Canary Islands.

You feel like you’re back in paradise with Miguel; you have a sea view from your balcony and palm trees littering the beautiful hotel gardens.

The food is amazing, there’s always a wide variety and the main restaurant has a different theme each night. Peter would be in absolute heaven if he was here, you consider letting him know this place exists.

There’s three swimming pools, tennis courts, an archery range, a large play area for children, a couple of bars, three restaurants, a spa, a pool table and ping pong table too. All spread out over the vast hotel grounds.

Of course Miguel booked an executive room, which is spacious and nicely decorated. You would have been happy having a cheaper room but your boyfriend enjoys the finer things especially when you’re concerned.

When you’re not out and about in the hotel’s public areas, you’re in your room, being fucked by Miguel. You kind of lose your first couple of days of your holiday to mainly sex as you try to get over jet lag - not the worst way to spend time, let’s be honest…

He has taken you in every part of your room. You have a bedroom, living room area and bathroom. If there is a surface he can fuck you on, he’ll use it.

There’s not a time in your life before meeting Miguel that you can recall having so much sex. Never in your life have you met anyone like Miguel too. His strength and stamina blows your mind and so do the orgasms he gives you.

It’s safe to say, you’ll never be satisfied with another man. The way he fills you, the attention he gives you. No sexual request is too much to ask or too taxing on him. He’ll eat you out, suckle on your breasts, fill you with his fingers or rock-hard shaft; he’d even play with your ass if you asked him - but you���re not quite brave enough to go there yet.

You adore his passionate face as he makes love to you, his eyebrows knitting together and slanting downwards as if he’s lost in the moment, pleading with you to let him keep going, desperately promising you more pleasure that he’s sure to deliver on. All the while, you lay underneath him, legs wide apart and taking him exquisitely deep inside.

During the times between passionate lovemaking, there’s the wholesome moments too where you cradle his handsome head against your chest as he rests on you in bed.

Long, tanned fingers dance over your breasts and stomach as he watches your sensitive buds and goosebumps rise to his delicate touch. He fails to resist latching onto one of your erect nipples and sucking on it tenderly as his hand slides down to between your legs as if it has a mind of its own. Starting the heated intimacy all over again.

“I’ve booked us an excursion,” Miguel announces over breakfast before taking a gulp of slightly cooled coffee.

You both eat outside as the warmth of the morning sun embraces your skin.

“Oh? Where are we going?” you ask just before you bite into your sweet pastry.

Tiny finches flit about the dining area. Occasionally, you feel the brush of their wings against your legs as they fly under your table, picking up crumbs of food from the white tiled floor.

“You’ll need something warm to wear because we’re going up Mount Teide this evening.” (Teide rhymes with Lady - if you want to know how to pronounce it)

Miguel gets his phone out to read an email containing the information of the excursion he booked.

“It’ll be a coach tour, but we'll be taken to the observatories up there to watch the sunset, with a glass of champagne in hand.”

You listen intently, watching him smile as he looks exceedingly pleased with himself for booking this for the both of you.

“Aww, that sounds very romantic,” you comment, thinking that is all the excursion consists of.

“That’s not all, chiquita,” he pauses before reading the next bit.

“We’ll be taken to a restaurant up there and be served dinner. Then, once it’s totally dark, we’ll be stargazing.”

Now you know why he said you needed warm clothing. Mountains can get considerably colder than the rest of the land below, especially at night. You won’t freeze at this time of year, but it might not be comfortable.

The trip sounds incredible and romantic. It’ll be nice to get out of the hotel, and going on this excursion sounds perfect.

“I can’t wait to go. Thank you for booking it.”

You flash him an excited smile. This is sure a precious day you’ll commit to your memory and reminisce over in years to come.

“I expect you’ve seen the night sky a lot haven’t you?” you ask Miguel before taking a sip of your orange juice.

He puts his phone down on the table and picks up his cup of coffee again.

“Quite a bit of it, yes,” he replies before taking another gulp.

“What things have you seen up there?”

Your eyes look up at the sky as you ask him, while leaning against the table with your elbows, supporting your head with your hands.

Miguel thinks for a moment to remember what he’s witnessed.

“Plenty of Aurora Borealis or northern lights - whatever you want to call them. And I’ve flown over countless thunderstorms - I’ve even seen sprites.”

He flashes a charming smile as if he knows this will spur an interesting conversation.

“Sprites?” you ask, raising an eyebrow, these are things you’ve never heard of.

An image of a creature from some fantastical world where fairies exist pops into your mind, but surely he doesn’t mean that…

“I don’t know the science behind them,” he begins as he places his empty coffee cup back down on the table.

“They’re largely not very well understood, but they appear high over the top of thunder clouds. Some sort of red electrical discharge up in the earth’s atmosphere. They’re quite beautiful, but surprising to see for the first time. I had no idea they existed before I started flying at higher altitudes.”

You find his flying stories fascinating, but you feel like he’s pulling your leg with this story.

“Oh - whatever,” you reply with a smirk, “are you kidding?”

“I’m not! I swear. Here, I’ll find a video of one, give me a sec...”

Miguel picks up his phone again, but before he can open up Google, his phone buzzes in his hand. A text message from Xina…

“Where are you? You’ve not been home for a few days.”

You notice Miguel’s expression fall when he sees what’s on his screen.

“You okay, Miguel?” you ask as you wonder what he’s seen that’s upset him.

“Uhh, it’s nothing. Just some irritating mail I have to respond to, I’ll find a video in a moment.”

Your lips press into a thin line. He’s lying. You’ve noticed over the last couple of weeks that something has been bothering him.

His thumbs tap against his phone-screen as he types a message back to Xina while he endeavours to keep his cool.

“Over three-thousand miles away from you and having a great time.”

He puts his phone in Do Not Disturb mode and looks for the video to prove the existence of sprites.

Sure enough, they do in fact exist, and they’re stunning - just rare to witness and hard to see with the naked eye. From what you can see in the video, they look like red columns of light with thin tree roots sprouting below them. You consider Miguel lucky to have seen this phenomenon.

The Captain leaves his phone on Do Not Disturb. The silence that follows is bliss - no more irritating buzzes dampening his fun with you.

Sitting at the back of the coach, Miguel stretches his long legs out down the middle. The poor guy has to bend to walk all the way to the back. You’re happy to get the window seat as he sits beside you.

Thankfully the coach isn’t full during the trip and other passengers are situated more towards the front, allowing you to have private conversations without being overheard as the bus weaves its way up the volcano.

A low layer of cloud is now below you, lapping against the slopes of the mountain like a foamy sea. You slide your phone out of your pocket to take a picture of the breath-taking view.

“That’s a great picture,” Miguel compliments you as he leans over, instantly warming you up.

His closeness gives you the opportunity to sneak a kiss, pressing your lips against his cheek. You feel his arms wrap around you, making sure you can’t escape. He needs more of your affection. Soft giggles fill the back of the bus as he nuzzles into you and plants a few tender kisses of his own against your lips and around your beautiful face.

The coach takes what feels like the hundredth turn on the road that snakes its way up the volcano. All you can see for the next few minutes is rock and yellowing grass. It’s clear this part of Tenerife doesn’t get much in the way of wetter weather.

You lean against his chest, as he rests his head against yours, you both sit in silence for a little while, until you decide to confront him about the business with his phone.

“So, are you going to tell me what’s really been going on?”

Miguel’s body stiffens slightly at your question and his arms tighten momentarily. A gentle nuzzle against your head indicates he’s uncomfortable, or feeling unsure about what to say.

“What do you mean?” he asks, but it’s a feeble attempt to pretend to not know what you’re talking about.

“Something’s bothering you on your phone, what is it?”

You re-adjust your head position so you can look up at him while your fingers run over the soft material of his shirt.

He pulls you closer and nuzzles against you more firmly.

“I don’t want to ruin the great time we’re having, baby.”

His hand caresses your cheek before he gives you a soft kiss on your forehead.

“Please tell me.”

Your pleading breaks his resolve. It’s not fair that he’s keeping this from you, but he worries about the impact it will have on you. Eventually he pulls away after steeling himself to admit what’s been happening.

“Remember Xina? The woman who tried to visit the other week?”

You cast your mind back to the mid-length, black haired woman who was standing at his penthouse door when you opened it.

“Yeah?” you reply, raising a curious eyebrow.

The coach’s engine revs louder for a moment as it powers on up a slightly steeper incline.

“She’s my ex-wife.”

Miguel’s voice is quiet, full of concern as to what you’re going to make of this bit of news.

A booming-like feeling thuds in your chest as your heart skips a beat. Your hand takes his, squeezing his fingers slightly.

“What’s she doing visiting you?”

He shrugs and runs his fingers through his hair.

“Trust me, I’m just as surprised as you are. She’s been texting me since that evening, but I’ve been pushing her back every time.”

“Pushing her back? Why? What’s she been saying?” you ask as your eyebrows knit together with growing concern.

Your worried expression breaks Miguel’s heart. If only you know just how upset Xina’s unexpected interference is making him.

“She claims she wants me back, but sweetheart, you have to understand I do not want that.”

He raises your hand to his lips and delivers a tender kiss to your knuckles.

“She had her chance with me - she had it all, but she rejected it. I have the tendency to never revisit old relationships, no matter how important they were to me at the time.”

Miguel then reaches for his phone.

“For complete transparency, look at the messages so you can see that I have no interest.”

You nearly back out of looking at his phone. For some reason, hearing that Xina is pursuing Miguel again hurts you more than you thought it might. The blood in your veins runs cold as he opens up the conversation, but he hesitates as another text comes in. One that he received earlier but the Do Not Disturb feature silenced it.

“Are you with her?”

The text simply reads, however you can’t help but detect the venom behind the last word.

He shows you the whole conversation starting from the night she knocked on his door. You notice Miguel’s attitude towards her in his texts are blunt and to the point. There’s no way his responses could be misconstrued. He’s not interested and that’s that. End of story.

“She hurt me a great deal when she no longer wanted to cooperate with me in keeping our marriage alive. It’s dead in the water now, and there’s no way I’m going to waste my time reviving it on a whim.”

You believe him; the sincerity in his eyes is compelling. You may have only been seeing him for a couple of months but that time has been well spent being up close and personal, getting to know his character.

“I understand,” you tell him, putting on a smile; a brave face in which he notices immediately.

Miguel wraps his arms around you, desperate to reassure you.

“Tu eres todo lo que quiero. Nadie se compara contigo. Nadie importa más que tu.” (You are all that I want. No one else compares to you. No one else matters but you.)

Your recent Spanish lessons on an app on your phone hasn’t quite extended to the level in which he speaks. But you can tell his romantic mutterings are heartfelt as he squeezes you and strokes you with his strong, manly hands.

Surrounded by several buildings belonging to the local observatory, standing tall at the crest of a hill on Mount Teide; you and Miguel clamber down from the coach. It’s quite comical seeing a six-foot-nine-inch man with broad shoulders descend the narrow aisle and steps.

The air is already slightly colder than it is closer to the sea. You suck in air through your teeth as a chilly breeze whips around you. The excursion leader hands a blanket to you and Miguel to wrap around you, before passing you a glass of champagne.

The sky is set alight in a blazing orange as the sun nears its time to vanish below the horizon, drawing another day to a close.

Standing atop the hill, Miguel places his arm around you as you cast your gazes to the west. The bright, orange orb burning brightly in the sky, gradually sinking lower, and lower.

Taking out your phone, you decide to capture the stunning moment that follows.

The bubbly liquid brings a warmth to your insides while Miguel remains by you, holding you close.

“I meant what I said earlier, chiquita. No one else matters but you,” Miguel purrs in your ear.

A sweet smile grows across your face.

“So that’s what you said, huh?”

He chuckles at your response as he realises he said it in a language you didn’t understand.

“Sorry, chiquita. I guess I got carried away with the emotion of the conversation,” Miguel replies and whispers to you exactly what he said to you earlier, giving you further reassurance; making your heart flutter like a butterfly in the breeze.

As the golden disc kisses the horizon, Miguel draws you in closer to press his lips against yours. His blanket wraps around you snugly as well as himself while he has you pressed against his large, muscular frame.

You and Miguel had a delicious meal in the restaurant. There was slight hesitation when he discovered that everyone on the excursion were to share tables, but once the ice was broken between your neighbours, the conversation flowed nicely, while Miguel sat and listened. Once again, he returned to his usual straight-faced demeanour however he toned down the intimidating expression so as to not weird out your fellow excursion companions…

Now, you both are the last to get off the coach as it’s parked up next to a vast plane of an old lava flow from the volcano.

Stars twinkle and planets gleam against the black canvas that is the sky. You don’t think you have ever seen so many stars. Your current location has much less light pollution than you do at home.

The atmosphere and scenery is enchanting. Feeling on top of the world with nothing but dazzling lights blinking millions of lightyears away. The landscape before you makes you feel you could be on a totally different planet.

The tour guide begins his talk about the twinkling display above you. You learn about the differences between planets and stars. How the orbiting worlds in space shine constantly while the incomprehensibly large burning balls of gas sparkle in the night sky.

“There are eighty-eight constellations that can be seen all over the world, but only thirty-six can be seen in the northern hemisphere…” the tour guide starts to explain.

A sharp shiver shoots down your spine as the much cooler air chills you to the bone. You came prepared, but the cold still manages to seep through your multiple layers. In the dark, you hear a zip before feeling a large jacket wrapping around your shoulders.

The tall, dark figure beside you pulls you close, keeping you warm in his embrace as you both listen to the tour guide as he points out the Orion constellation.

Despite being surrounded by a handful of people, looking up into the black, glittering sky, you feel like the only two existing in that moment. You’re transfixed - hypnotised even, as you learn about things far bigger than you, or Miguel. Things even bigger than your planet and it boggles your mind finding out just how small you are in comparison, but that’s not a bad thing. It fascinates you and humbles you.

As the talk continues, you feel gentle kisses against your head and hair. Miguel gives the impression that he’s not exactly listening and is more interested in the attention he’s giving you. Maybe he already knows this stuff? You don’t put it past him.

Back in the coach for the final time as it snakes its way back down Mount Teide, the passengers are quietly conversing with one another.

Looking out of the window, it is almost nothing but the purest of black, apart from the twinkling of golden lights in Playa de las Americas.

The fresh air and the large meal has made you sleepy and your eyelids feel heavier by the minute. That is until something suddenly catches your attention, making you startle and grab Miguel’s hand while your eyes remain fixed on the stunning object that comes into view.

A large entity burning in the earth’s atmosphere, rips across the dark sky. A flaming, orange tail streaks behind it as the front burns a brilliant, electric blue.

“What the hell?” you gasp in pure surprise, turning to face Miguel.

The thing in question disappears as quickly as it came, fizzling out into nothingness over what you assume is the Atlantic Ocean.

“That, (Y/N), was a meteorite.” (Yes this really did happen to me IRL)

Your jaw drops as you look back out of the window, picturing the spectacle in your mind's eye. What a beautiful sight, and simply the perfect ending to an amazing day. You try not to let what Miguel told you earlier affect you. The romantic day you have shared with him has certainly outshone the unpleasant discussion of Xina. And that meteorite will last in your memory until the end of your days.

The last two weeks have flown by and you return home to your apartment. You’re exhausted, but you have a dreamy smile plastered on your face. Your holiday in Tenerife has been an unforgettable experience.

You both did some amazing things, creating many memories that you’ll cherish for the rest of your life. Dolphin spotting as the pair of you sat on a catamaran will be forever one of your favourites; watching the joyful creatures rushing alongside the boat, leaping out of the water as the warm sunlight glistens along their backs.

Another memory you’re fond of is when Miguel took you to Siam Park; the biggest water park in Tenerife. Your favourite moment is when the two of you canoodled in the deepest part of the wave pool that released a powerful wall of water every five minutes. The rise and fall of the water almost got the two of you carried away. The temptation to let him slip your bikini bottoms to the side and enter you was overwhelming at one point.

As you enter your home, you’re greeted by Ashley, fretting over a letter that she’s reading in the open plan kitchen. Her fingers run through her hair as her mind races.

Closing the door behind you after dragging the suitcase in, you look concerned at your friend as she reads a letter again.

“What’s up?” you ask as you approach your roommate, trying to peer at what she’s reading.

“I don’t know what we’re going to do.” Ashley’s voice cracks as he shakes her head, the paper in her hands shakes as her hands tremble.

“Ashley, you’re scaring me. What’s wrong?”

Eventually, her gaze rises up to meet yours, tears threaten to well up in her eyes.

“The landlord is pushing our rent up - we can only just afford it as it is (Y/N), I don’t know how we’re going to manage this…”

All of a sudden, the beautiful holiday is sucked out of your mind, lost in the dark vacuum of space as it’s replaced with thoughts about what’s going to happen about your little home that you’ve built with your best friend…

I hope you enjoyed Part 12. Part 13 is currently out on early access on Patreon.

Next Chapter >

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[theroseceleste]

Mafia Miguel - Part 9

You can find previous chapters below.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Contains : Female reader, a little bit of fluff, and smut - breast play, oral sex

Word Count - 3526

Hope you enjoy part 9!

I might open up part 10 to suggestions, so please feel free to get in touch to let me know what you would like to see what happens next.

Also, liking, commenting, reblogging these posts are greatly appreciated. xx

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Sunlight peeks over the eastern horizon, splashing the sky with vivid pinks and oranges as it starts to rise on a new day.

Back in the limo again, you’re on your way to Miguel’s home. This time you’re sitting next to him.

He sits quietly and keeps his hands together over his lap, being careful not to accidentally catch his claws on anything.

Watching him carefully, you see his eyes slowly closing and opening again as his body threatens to fall asleep. He’s fighting it valiantly but it’s becoming a losing battle.

Exhaustion makes your limbs feel heavy but you suspect he’s feeling worse. The poor man likely feels battered and bruised to say the least.

You snake your hand around his arm. His eyes open again as you touch him but relaxes as he feels your head resting against his shoulder. Sleep draws nearer for the both of you.

A smile of contentment spreads across your lips. This is one of the first times you’re holding him with no guilt hanging over your head.

His words, ‘I need you” replays in your mind, giving you a sweet, comforting feeling; fueling that urge to sleep…

The car stops eventually outside Miguel’s home. Your head resting on his shoulder while his head rests on yours. You’re both totally in the land-of-nod.

You stir slightly as you hear the passenger door open and the chauffeur speaks to wake you both up.

“Hey. Wake up Miguel…” you whisper as softly as you wake first, doing your best not to startle him. Your hands gently shake him awake.

His tired eyes snap open; on high alert as he draws a sudden intake of air. But as soon as he feels you close by and sees the familiar interior of his limo, he relaxes again, sinking back into his seat.

After you get out of the car, you head into the building and summon the lift. Linking your arm with him as you wait.

Miguel waits quietly for the elevator looking shy and reserved. He’s dreading the moment Gabi claps eyes on him and sees her papa has changed. He looks down at you and gets your attention by nudging you.

“I think I’m going to need your help with this.”

The lift arrives. You give him a nod in response as you both walk together into the elevator. Pressing the penthouse floor, the doors close and you begin your ascent.

A ding rings out, announcing your arrival and the doors slide open. You escort a tremouring Miguel out and into the open plan, luxurious apartment.

Movement comes from the living area. A sleepy Gabriel and Gabi wake up from their couches and look over.

Gabriella immediately jumps up and bounds over to the two of you.

“Papa!”

Miguel immediately kneels down on the floor and outstretched his arms preparing to take her in his embrace but closes his eyes as he does so.

Gabriel follows soon after. He received a text from Lyla warning him about what happened at Alchemax. His eyes roaming over his older brother’s body, trying to spot the differences.

To your surprise, you hear sobbing. Not just from Gabi, but from Miguel too. Fatigue, and the entire ordeal will make most people emotional.

He cries into his daughter’s shoulder while his whole body shakes with each heart wrenching sob.

It’s clear Gabriella hasn’t heard her father cry very much or at all. She starts to pull away to look at him but you see Miguel pull her back to hide just a moment longer.

His hands delicately rub over his daughter’s back, being careful not to scratch her.

Just like the first day you met Miguel and Gabriella, you see before you an unbreakable bond between a father and his daughter. The tremendous display of love between them warms your heart.

You finally get to your knees and rest your hand on the girl's arm to get her attention. Your mind is racing to find the appropriate words to say.

“Like I promised, I brought your papa home,” you begin to explain but approach your next words carefully.

“But something happened to him that I couldn’t stop completely.”

Your hand squeezes her arm a little for reassurance.

“Your papa might look a little different, but he’s still the same on the inside. And together we’ll work it all out, okay?”

Gabi’s eyes wander from yours and return to her father. She pulls away again to try and get a good look at him.

Slowly, Miguel opens his eyes and looks deeply into his daughter’s. She lets out a shocked gasp as she takes in the new vermillion shade. Her much smaller hands caress her father’s face as she processes his differences.

The revealing of his claws and fangs did provoke tears of shock, but she puts on a brave face as she sees past it, just like you knew she would.

“I still love you papa.”

Her father wraps his arms around her again, relief takes a heavy weight from his shoulders. His hands clench to make sure he won’t hurt her.

“You’re so grown up mija.”

A small whimper escapes his lips as his emotions spike again.

“I don’t deserve such an angel like you as mi hija,” (my daughter)

A tear rolls down your cheek as you watch this special moment between father and daughter. A reunion Miguel thought he’d never get.

Looking up at his brother, you notice him also blinking faster while his eyes glisten.

***

Gabriel finally gets his niece off to bed while you do the same for Miguel.

He insists you join him, so you reduce yourself to wearing your bra and panties as you climb under the covers.

Snuggling up to you, he rests his head on your chest, burying his face into your breast to hide himself away from the world. His arms wrap around you holding you close.

Your hands rest on the back of his head as your fingers play with his beautiful tight curls. His body relaxes into you further.

Before too long, you’re both fast asleep, lost in each other’s embrace.

***

It’s early afternoon when you wake up again. Half of Miguel’s body rests on you, wrapping around you with his arms and a leg covers both of yours.

As you wake, you notice he feels heavier and perhaps… broader?

His head still rests on your chest. Looking down, you enjoy that peaceful look he has with his eyes closed. It’s impossible to resist caressing that face and kissing his forehead. You hear a soft groan as you do so. His arms tighten a little as he stirs.

You feel his hands press completely flat against your back. You flinch, expecting to be pricked by haw claws, but there’s nothing but soft fingertips.

Another groan emits from deep within him. His body tenses and stretches as he slowly wakes up from his slumber.

Then his eyes open wide. As he wakes, his tongue searches for the enlarged canines in his mouth, but they’re gone…

He sits up abruptly, tearing his cosy warmth away from you. A soft whimper leaves your lips as you feebly reach out for him again. You watch him press his fingers above his top lip, feeling for the oversized teeth.

That is when you discover that he has grown in his sleep. He was already tall, broad and muscular but now he’s even more so!

“Oh God!” you exclaim as you take in the sheer size of him.

Unfortunately for him, your sudden, unexpected outburst makes his claws extract from his fingertips and snag on his upper lip as he flinches.

“Ah fuck!” he yells as he covers the lower half of his face and looks back at you.

For a brief moment - before you said anything, Miguel was thinking perhaps it was all a horrible dream and that there was no mutation to worry about.

“Oh! I’m sorry!” you apologise, sitting up to join him.

Your hands take his gently, pulling them away so you can look at his lip. Just a scratch, nothing serious.

A look of disappointment dominates his face. The low feeling of realising his mutation is in fact reality hits him hard.

“My claws weren’t there a moment ago…” he murmurs, his tone full of sadness.

Turning his hands over, you inspect them more closely. They are indeed back, but you have been struck with an idea.

Laying back down you invite him to rest his head on your chest once again.

“What made you shout?” he asks as he lowers himself onto you, but he pauses as he takes in the sight of you. Your frame suddenly seems so much smaller in comparison to him.

You pull him down and make him lie on you like how he was before.

“Don’t freak out,” you hesitate, “but none of your clothes are going to fit you anymore.”

His body tenses again as his eyes open wide.

“What?!”

“I said, don’t freak out!”

“How can I not freak out?”

“Shh…” you hush him.

“I want to try something…”

Miguel’s body now almost completely covers yours as he does what you ask of him. You hold one of his large, warm hands against your chest, while you play with his hair.

As you do so, you feel him start to relax into you again. Allowing himself to sink further into the mattress and you. His body, becoming your new favourite warm blanket.

Your little experiment is working. His claws gradually retract into his pads the more he relaxes.

“Your talons go away when you’re calm and relaxed,” you observe with a smile, speaking just above a whisper.

His head shifts against your chest so he can look at his fingertips. He does feel a lot calmer than he did in Alchemax. The added sensation of you playing with his hair did feel relaxing for him. So long as he stays calm, the claws don’t appear to be a permanent feature. Maybe it’s the same for his fangs too?

“Interesting… at least they’re not out all the time I suppose.”

He nuzzles against your chest. The weight of his head squishes your breast, making it a nice comfy pillow for himself.

“So you’re saying I’ve grown?” Miguel eventually asks after a moment of silence.

“Don’t you feel bigger?”

“You look and feel smaller…”

“You should go see for yourself in a mirror.”

Reluctantly, he peels away from the comfort of your chest and gets out of bed, which feels lower down than he’s used to.

Come to think of it, his boxer briefs feel kind of tight around his hips and his legs too.

You watch in awe as he walks over to his en-suite. The guy is nearly seven feet tall!

“Holy shit!” You hear him yell, his voice echoing from the bathroom, making you giggle as you lay in his bed.

While wearing a stunned expression on his face, he comes back out of the ensuite and sits back down next to you.

“Told you…” you comment with a smile.

Reaching over for his phone, he begins to text his PA.

“I’ll have Lyla buy me some things for the time being. Then perhaps you and I can go shopping once I’m dressed sensibly?”

He asks you as he hits send on his phone. His ruby red eyes wander your semi naked form.

“You’ll let me come shopping with you?” you ask, feeling surprised.

“Am I completely forgiven then?”

Miguel’s larger, looming frame crawls along the bed towards you.

“You were forgiven after you said your speech about not wanting me to owe you anything, back in Alchemax.”

His voice sounds almost sultry and seductive.

On all fours, this man towers over you on the bed. He lowers himself down next to you and begins to kiss your neck.

“I really did want to stay mad, but I couldn’t…”

More tender kisses are planted along your neck as you moan softly.

“Not after everything you did for me and Gabi…”

“Miguel, is it wise to do this? It’s not been twenty-four hours yet,” you mumble quietly, trying to avoid moaning again.

You feel his warm lips and breath caress your sensitive skin.

“How could activities in the bedroom be affected by the mutation?” he asks as he moves you to unfasten your bra and remove it.

Now his lips find one of your breasts while his hand finds the other. Consciousness about his claws creeps in but you should be fine if nothing startles him.

“I don’t know - do you feel okay?” you ask before the pleasurable sensations overwhelm you.

His lips capture your hardened nipple and switches between licking and sucking, while his hand squeezes gently around your breast.

A muffled moan vibrates through your skin as he enjoys the fun he’s having. But eventually he pulls away to answer you.

“My lower arms feel a little sore, but that was probably from the restraints, right?”

You eyed him suspiciously. He could be right…

Miguel lets out a grunt of discomfort before grinding his hips against your leg. His hard-on is trapped inside, straining to be released.

“These boxer briefs need to come off… they’re too damn tight.”

He lays back on the bed and shifts his hands to the elastic around his narrow hips. The material of his underwear is taut across his body and upper thighs.

You help to pull them off. A large sigh of relief erupts from his parted lips as his hardened length springs free.

A hungry look crosses your face as an idea strikes you. Your eyes meet with his as you kneel next to him.

A burning desire to pleasure him takes over you, as you start to delicately run your fingers down his abs. Hearing his breathing hitch delights your ears. A wild throb of his cock reminds you what really wants your attention.

Biting your lip, as you lay between his legs and take his needy shaft in your hand, wrapping your fingers firmly around it as you watch him dissolve at your touch.

“Mhmmm…”

A warm hum vibrates from his broad chest as you stroke him up and down. You feel every twitch and every throb emanating from the hilt, up past your fingers and right to the tip.

“(Y/N)...”

His eyebrows almost knit together as pleasure engulfs his entire body. Watching you fist his length for him, makes his eyelids heavy with lust and desire.

As you touch him you can tell his mutation growth has affected every part of his body.

A bead of pre-cum forms at his slit as you continue to pump him. He feels smooth and hot under your fingers and you wish to give him more.

Miguel’s eyelids are heavy as he watches you draw nearer to his pulsing cock. His jaw drops at the sight of your mouth opening and the sensation of your tongue just teasing the head, tasting him.

Light breathy sighs fill the air as he relishes in your skill. Your tongue swirls around the sensitive tip while you stroke up and down on his hot smooth skin.

The taste of salt spreads across your tongue as you continue to lick and tease him with your lips. Your eyes lock onto his, hypnotised by the stunning red staring back at you.

The eye contact between you makes him melt briefly. The hunger in your expression as you give him head generates a large throb in your hands and against your mouth.

“(Y/N)!” he gasps out in ecstasy.

The pleasure is irresistible. You’re making him want more. He wants to trap you there so you can keep going. He fails to stop himself from wrapping his large muscular thighs around you. His calves cross over your back, pinning you in place.

An erotic moan rises from your throat and around his shaft as you sink lower onto him with your mouth. The heat from his legs wrapping around you drives you wild, making your ministrations more vigorous.

Gentle thrusts from his hips tells you he’s loving every second of everything you’re doing to him. Your focus remains on him as you begin to suck on him, triggering a chain reaction.

Miguel closes his eyes as his jaw drops. Quick and shallow breaths cause his exquisitely defined chest to rise and fall. His quivering breaths turn into grunts as you bring him close to the edge.

“Fuck, (Y/N). I’m going to cum if you keep that up.”

You moan at his words, the sound resonates through his wildly throbbing length. The sensation of your sucking becomes more intense.

His grip around your body with his legs tightens as you watch his hands rise to his face. The pleasure is becoming too much, he’s on the precipice.

“(Y/N)!~”

The mafia man’s back arches as a large pulse triggers a long series of shorter, faster bursts against your tongue. He cries out, coming undone and filling your mouth.

Miguel’s cries of pleasure suddenly turn into yelps of shock. Your eyes shoot up and widen when you look at him.

“What the fuck?!”

His voice cracks in a confusing mix of pleasure and shock as he looks up at his hands and wrists. Brows knitting together as fear sets in. 

Sharp claws protrude once again from his fingertips which isn’t so much of a surprise anymore. What does surprise you - and him, however, is that two long strings of silk have erupted from the top of his wrists and attached themselves to the wall behind the bed. Looking as though he’s restrained. If it wasn’t so unexpected, it might pass as a sexy scene from a pornographic video.

You release his softening cock from your mouth with a wet pop and his legs fall either side of you once more, allowing you to scramble up his body.

His ruby eyes are desperately wide and looking up at you as you reach his top half to investigate.

Sitting on his chest, you lean over to take a closer look at his arms and the substance that connects him to the wall.

It’s sticky to the touch. Trailing your fingers along it, you inspect the ends that are splayed wide against the wall plaster.

“What is it?” he asks as he tugs on it slightly.

“It looks like a bigger version of what spiders use when they make webs,” you reply pensively as you poke at the material.

Miguel gives an exasperated groan in response.

“Oh come on!”

It’s clear he’s fed up with the mutation. Every new change he experiences he becomes more resentful.

“Shhh…” you hush him as you lean back down to his face and caress his cheek.

He actually looks kind of cute, looking up at you with a worried expression and his arms raised above his head.

“It’s just another part of your mutation. Try to relax again, Miguel,” you suggest as you kiss his forehead and run your fingers through his hair.

Taking several deep breaths, he tries to relax by breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth. You feel him tip his head back to get a better look at you.

“Come closer…”

With a warm smile, you lean down even further until you’re just an inch away from his handsome face.

He suddenly moves up. His chest and abdominal muscles flex underneath your butt as you remain sitting on him.

Warm, plump lips caress yours as he captures you in a tender kiss.

He deepens your affectionate moment by teasing your mouth with his tongue, tasting you, savouring you, revelling in you.

Your grip with your hands around his face and in his hair tightens as the kiss becomes more passionate.

Slowly, his claws begin to retract and the muscles in his arms relax.

You feel him try and sit up higher to reach you while his arms remain stuck. His lips move against yours, caressing softly.

“You have a talented mouth, (Y/N),” he mumbles between kisses fueled with a renewed sense of desire.

“It blew my mind.”

“It blew something else too…” you reply as your eyes dart up to his wrists and back down to his heavy lidded eyes.

A deep chuckle fills the air before he captures your lips again.

“It’s safe to say you managed to blow a few things, cariño.”

You smile against his lips, his sense of humour is coming back.

Finally, you feel the warmth of his arms wrap around you. His relaxed state releasing himself from the web-like material.

He rolls you, so your back is now on the bed and he’s on top. The inviting warmth he leaves behind on the duvet now presses against your skin. His new size totally dwarfs you. You can’t help but feel protected by him, but at the same time, you notice a predatory gleam in his eyes as he looks down upon you.

Hunger, desire, passion and a fresh wave of arousal flows through his veins. Something tells you that this will be intense, aggressive and oh so exquisitely good…

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I hope you enjoyed part 9! Sorry there was a bit of a delay. I had four commissions to write in the last two weeks and a funeral to attend.

I might open up part 10 to suggestions, so please feel free to get in touch to let me know what you would like to see what happens next.

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[theroseceleste]

Pilot Miguel - Part 9 - Don't Toy With Me

Miguel has a surprise for you but you can only see it when you next see him. What could it be? And where are you going next?

Word count : 5180

Minors DNI

Contains : Smut : use of vibrator, penetrative sex, oral

Enjoy! xx

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

If you enjoy this fic, please consider liking, commenting or re-blogging. Many thanks xx

“I bought you something…”

Your phone flashes up with a message from Miguel one afternoon while you’re cleaning the kitchen in your apartment. Putting the sponge down, you pick up your phone and reply after rolling your eyes. The keyboard clacks as you type.

“I thought we agreed you weren’t going to spend any more money on me…”

You hold the phone and wait. It isn’t long before you see him typing back.

“I think you’ll find we agreed I won’t spend money on you during our trips. You never said anything about when we’re not on our trips.”

Damn it! He’s such a smart ass…

“Trust you to find a loophole. Go on, what did you get me?” you ask in your message back.

“You shall have to wait until we next see each other.”

You groan out loud when you read his reply.

“And when will that be?”

“In a few days time. I'm flying to England and you will be too.”

The phone almost drops out of your hands. England?! That’s one of the top countries you want to visit and you get to do it with your boyfriend!

Paris joins Acapulco in your small but growing collection of distant dreams. However, since then, you have decided to make things official.

Ashley, your roommate, is over the moon for you. Your stories of him getting your phone back in Paris and taking you to Versailles swayed her more to thinking that Miguel is genuine.

You and Ashley did some digging when you returned from Paris. The pair of you searched the hotel’s website for room prices. That man blasted nearly €10,000 for the two nights you spent together! No man who is after just screwing around until he gets bored would throw away that kind of money. This guy likes you. Like, he really likes you. €10,000… And you worried that the Chanel dress was too much… The fact that he spent that crazy amount of money so willingly, without a bat of an eyelid, makes you feel woozy.

Another way of making the relationship ‘official’ is mentioning you have a boyfriend to your parents. Yours and his picture in Paris has been sent to any member of the family who has a phone which is pretty much everyone. The whole freaking family knows about Miguel - thanks to your mother. She’s excited for you though. She can see the stars in your eyes and the blush in your cheeks when you talk about him. It’s only been a short amount of time in the grand scheme of things but the relationship is becoming more serious each time you meet.

The both of you are yet to visit each other’s homes still. But at least you now know he lives in the same city as you.

“Hello? Earth to (Y/N).”

Another text comes in. Your mind went down a rabbit hole for a moment.

“England? Wow! I’ve always wanted to go! Still want to know what you got me…”

“Patience, chiquita…”

Your mind runs wild with ideas about what he’s bought you. You wonder if it has anything to do with England… Well, whatever it is, it better not be nearly ten thousand in any currency!

Now feeling too excited about your upcoming travel, the kitchen suddenly feels even less appealing.

You know it’s the day you fly with Miguel because that’s when you wake up with butterflies fluttering in your stomach the moment you open your eyes.

It’s a blessing and a curse. The blessing; what other way is better than waking up feeling like this? You can’t wait to get the day started, get ready for work, get ready for flying, get ready for him. The curse; why does it have to be so damn early? Looking at the clock, it’s not even seven AM. What makes things worse is that it’s an evening flight, so now that you’re wide awake, you’ll have to wait even longer.

After the hours painfully pass by, you finally make it to the airport. As arranged, you meet up in the staff car park first for a quick, secret reunion kiss before you walk together into the terminal. Now begins the usual airport routine. Queue at check-in, stare daggers at the other girls who wave at your man, then head for security.

He lets you go ahead of him in the queue for security and you start to do the usual. Remove your shoes, placing them into a crate alongside your hand-luggage and cellphone.

As always, you step through the metal detector without triggering it and you begin to get your items packed back in your luggage again as Miguel goes through. By the time you’re done, he comes away from the hand-luggage check area with a bit of a smirk.

“Are you alright?” you ask as he approaches you.

“Fine,” he replies, “they just wanted to check something in my bag.”

After security, you walk through the Duty Free section and find out what gate the plane will be at. Before you approach the staff lounge, you’re surprised when Miguel pulls you aside into a quiet, slightly secluded area near a bathroom.

“Take my luggage into the ladies, open it and wear the thing you find in the clear plastic bag.”

He speaks to you in a hushed tone, causing you to raise an eyebrow.

“What?”

“Please…”

“Miguel—“

He looks at you with an expression he hasn’t given you in a while. The novelty of calling him by his name wore off in Paris but you two have been apart since. It seems uttering his name once more does something to him.

“Just do it, chiquita. Por favor?”

You have to admit, you are intrigued.

“Fine.”

Taking his bag, which isn’t at all suspicious - it totally is… you roll it into the deserted ladies bathroom and into a cubicle. You sigh before opening it, your heart pounding slightly as you wonder what he wants you to wear. Probably a different pair of panties or something…

WRONG

Opening the lid, you’re greeted with the plastic bag he told you about. Only it doesn’t have sexy panties in there. Picking it up, you find a silicone vibrator complete with a cord, an absorbent pad and a small bottle of lube. Oh, shit.

You grab your phone and text him immediately.

“Are you fucking serious?!”

The text bubble indicating that he’s typing flashes up, only for a second before a one word reply appears.

“Absolutely.”

The keyboard clacks as you type back.

“You do know there’s supposed to be a remote with this?”

“In my pocket.”

Oh dear lord. This is what security wanted to check. That explains his smirk earlier.

You nearly gasp when you realise this is the thing he bought you.

Another text comes in.

“Better hurry. Your team will be starting the pre-flight brief soon.”

A groan reverberates in your cubicle. Is this really happening? You pinch yourself - ouch - yes, it’s really happening…

Another text flashes up.

“Tick tock…”

You jab back on the screen.

“Yes, alright!”

You finally pull your skirt and panties down. Opening the bottle of lube, you pour some of it onto your fingers and smother it over the curved vibrator, the smooth pink silicone glistening in the light.

Your phone buzzes again, making you flinch. What now?

“Don’t forget to turn it on. I’ll know if you don’t…”

Turning the now slippery item over in your hand you find the power button. You hold it down until a tiny LED light starts blinking.

Another soft groan fills the enclosed space as you position it at your entrance. A gentle push is all it takes as the lubricant does its job. Now nestled inside against your g-spot is the vibrator, primed and ready to make the next six hours an exhausting rollercoaster - starting from now.

BUZZ

“Ahhh!” you cry out as your core is rudely awakened by the intrusive buzzing.

Your legs give out immediately before you fall to the floor. That cheeky bastard of a boyfriend of yours has just activated it. Now you know why he left an absorbent pad in the bag too. At the end of this, you’re going to be wetter than the Atlantic Ocean. The vibrations are jamming everything, your muscles and your thoughts. It’s going to be a miracle if you survive this flight.

The buzzing deep within you stops, and your phone vibrates twice, shortly after.

“Just testing the range.” - Thanks for the warning…

“Also, I hope you’re alone in there. I heard you from here.”

You grumble as you stagger back to your feet, fit the pad into your underwear and get dressed again. He’s going to pay for this, and you have a whole night flight to cook up an evil plan.

Leaving the bathroom is easier than you expected. The toy is nestled nicely within you while cord pokes out, being bent against your clit as your panties are holding it there.

The sound of your heels striking the floor with every footstep makes Miguel look up from his phone.

“There you are,” he says softly as he takes his bag back from you.

He opens it to check the toy is definitively not in there.

“I’m definitely wearing it, O’Hara,” you say, sounding perhaps with a little more attitude than originally intended.

Miguel grabs your arm and pulls you close. His mouth grazes against your ear as he whispers darkly.

“I can hardly grab your pussy to che—“

“Migs!”

He lets go of you immediately and straightens up, eyes wide and twitching slightly.

Oh no…

A short woman with strawberry-blonde bob poking out under her pilot’s hat slides into view. She saw Miguel’s broad shoulder poking out from your little alcove further along the corridor and knew instantly it was him.

“It’s my favourite Captain! Yay!”

“Lyla…” you hear him un-enthusiastic reply.

Like with every flight, when surrounded by people he doesn’t know, he gets uncomfortable and his personality disappears in an instant. You find it strange, but sweet that you have been able to break his barrier, his defensive walls, and see the real him.

Lyla spots you as she approaches.

“Oh… I hope I’m not interrupting anything...”

She looks left and right with an animated expression as if to say ‘oops’.

You don’t feel the slightest bit threatened by Lyla’s presence, and come to think of it, Jess Drew too. They both seem totally unaware of Miguel’s handsomely good looks. Which is relieving for the both of you. However, Lyla makes up for the lack of infatuation by teasing him it seems.

“C’mon, we’ll be boarding soon!”

She pats Miguel on the shoulder as he reluctantly steps away from you. You follow closely behind, amused at how stiff Miguel is in comparison to Lyla. It seems like his comeuppance is starting earlier than you thought. But you have your own delicious plan brewing in your mind…

The pre-flight brief goes well. As always, you’re in first class, which is good news and bad news. First class is the smallest section of the plane so you have fewer people to serve. But this also means you’re likely to be in range from Miguel’s remote control. You squeeze your legs together, feeling the pink cord press against your clit as you do so.

You know for sure Miguel won’t play with the toy until after take off and flying at cruising altitude. He takes check-lists and safety measures far too seriously to get distracted by making you squirm, no matter how much he wants to. However, you just know the first time he does turn it on, it will render you useless.

“So, what’s the story with you and the first-class girl, Migs?” Lyla asks, interrupting the sweet silence as the plane cruises comfortably at forty-thousand feet.

Miguel growls slightly at her nickname for him.

“Who says there’s a story to tell?” he finally responds, sounding cryptic as he keeps a keen eye on the sky.

Quite a bit off to the right, he sees a plane flying in the same direction but at a different altitude. Its engines leave trails streaking behind it.

“C’mon Migs, it’s obvious there’s something going on between you two.”

He blinks momentarily in silence.

“Is that so?”

Lyla shrugs as she watches the sky too.

“The way you look at her for a start. Then, there’s the way she looks back at you. I’ve noticed those quick, not-so-subtle glances between the two of you. The reaffirming smiles before resuming your usual neutral expressions,” she pauses to clear her throat.

“Then, of course I overheard you say something about grabbing her puss—“

“Lyla!” he snaps, doing everything he can to stop her completing her sentence.

“What?! Just saying - there’s a story to tell…”

Miguel’s cheeks redden.

“Don’t forget the black boxes are listening to every word you say in the cockpit,” he growls.

“Yeah, I know. And that only gets listened to if something bad happens to the plane. Besides, we’re just having a conversation. Not my fault you can’t keep your cool.”

He notices a grin on her face. She’s so laid back and carefree it’s a wonder how she got into flying. Very much like Parker; good when it comes to the serious stuff, but the moment the plane’s on autopilot, they relax almost a little too much.

“I’d just appreciate it if we don’t discuss my personal life in the cockpit.”

Miguel glances at the apparatus, making sure everything is as it should be.

“Whatever you say, Migs,” Lyla replies as she gets up from her chair and leaves the cockpit to take a short bathroom break.

Now alone, a small smile creeps across his face as his hand leaves the yoke and goes into his pocket…

You have just finished serving dinner to the first-class passengers as the plane soars eastwards into the darkening sky. Standing in the galley, you’re aware that Lyla has exited the cockpit and locked the door behind her, to stop anyone unauthorised from getting in.

Just as you’re about to take a sip of your drink of water, it begins. A deep, buzzing sensation erupts in your core, pressing right up against your g-spot. You double over and clasp a hand over your mouth to stifle a yelp. Fuck!

As the strong vibrations stimulate your insides, the cord of the toy tickles your sensitive bud too. Your eyes almost roll backwards as you feel like your body has been jump started with an electric shock. Your muscles tensing as you sink to the floor of the galley as quietly as possible.

Then you feel a trickle of arousal begin to drip. You’re thankful that he considered the state you’d be in once he’s done toying with you.

The persistent buzzing changes into a pulsing rhythm, he’s changed it to a different mode and you curse him under your breath as it arouses you even further.

You take deep breaths to try and push through the hampering moment. Your body adjusting to the pleasurable disturbances within you.

Finally, it stops just before Lyla unlocks the bathroom door. You quickly rise to your feet, albeit a little wobbly and looking wildly flustered.

Lyla’s eyes land on you as she emerges from the bathroom and looks at you quizzically.

“You alright?” she asks, raising an amused eyebrow.

You nod as you’re not sure you’re able to speak.

“Ooookay…” Lyla says, strongly suspecting that something is definitely going on as she shuts the bathroom door and enters the security code to gain access to the cockpit.

Miguel stores the remote back in his pocket, his cock twitches slightly at the thought of you clenching around the vibrator. However he has to stop fantasising over how wet and needy you’re going to be for him later as Lyla steps back into the cockpit.

“Whatever you did to her just now, she’s all flustered in the galley…” Lyla reports as she takes her seat and straps herself in.

“And you say there’s no story to tell…”

The Captain stares blankly into the dark blue sky, transitioning into solid black. Eventually, a small smirk grows across his lips which his co-pilot notices.

“Naughty boy…”

“I didn’t go out there and do anything…”

“You don’t have to, I know what you’re doing.”

Miguel can tell that Lyla is avoiding saying exactly what he’s doing in fear of him snapping at her again, but he’s amazed that she worked it out so damn quickly. She definitely is smart and incredibly observant.

A few times within every hour the flight takes, your boyfriend activates that damn toy. Each time, you nearly drop, or accidentally throw something into the air; the vibrations are that powerful and distracting. You recover quickly from them though as your body becomes desensitised to the initial shock when it starts each time. There have been a few occasions where he left it on long enough to nearly trigger an orgasm, only to cruelly leave you gasping and panting heavily as he turns it off before you get your release.

When Miguel’s voice sounds throughout the cabin telling passengers and crew to prepare for landing, you feel great relief as you know he’ll be leaving that remote well alone for the rest of the flight.

You’re absolutely soaked. The pad Miguel gave you did a good job, but even that is starting to struggle. If you feel one more vibration you’re certain you’ll cum on the spot. And you swear, when you get your hands on that man when you’re alone, you’ll give him everything he deserves.

The plane lands safely and smoothly as always, despite the raging arousal coursing through you, you can’t help but feel proud of your man.

Going through customs is once again hell, but this time for different reasons. Most of the excitable cabin crew have given up trying to flirt with the Captain. They eventually get the idea that they’d have better chances with a brick wall. This time, the struggle is Miguel being a smug bastard.

At any given moment that he can touch you, he does, without it looking too obvious. He’s driving you crazy and he knows it as you queue to have your passport checked. With all the teasing during the flight, you’re extremely aroused and needy. You can’t wait to get your hands on him.

“Do you need to head to the bathroom to, um… sort yourself out?” he asks quietly once you’re both cleared from customs.

A smirk forms on your face.

“Oh no, I’m good, thanks.”

He raises a quizzical eyebrow.

“You’ve removed it already?” he asks as his brown eyes wander over your hand luggage.

“Nope, still in there.”

His gaze snaps back to you.

“Did you enjoy your new toy?”

“Oh yes. I can’t wait to use it again later too…”

You give him a Cheshire Cat grin, the plan you have in mind will be delicious. The both of you make your way out of the airport terminal and to the hotel you’re booked into.

The room you have is nothing special, but you don’t care. What’s more important is who’s with you and what you’re about to do with them.

As soon as your hotel room door is closed you pounce on him. Desperate hands seize his uniform as hungry lips meet his. There’s a loud thud as he falls against the wall while the pair of you make-out furiously.

Before you become aware, his hand slips into his pocket. You hear a click followed by the deep buzzing sound inside your overstimulated core.

“Fuck!” you almost yell into his mouth as you lean against him for support.

His arms wrap around you, leaving the vibrator going, pulsing against your g-spot.

“The whole flight I wondered how you looked when I turned this on.”

He kisses your neck as you shudder, mouth agape, struggling to hold yourself together. Your plan is slowly slipping out of your hands. Losing yourself to this rapidly building orgasm. Do you surrender?

“I wish I was there for the first time I did it.”

Your resolve strengthens, trying to ignore every intrusive pulse massaging your sensitive spot.

“The first time had me on the floor in the galley,” you manage to reply in a breathless manner.

Miguel groans in your ear. Clearly the image of you sinking to the floor where anyone could find you while your body conceals a vibrator turns him on. He imagines how flustered you’d look if you were discovered. Or how you’d feel if it brought you to orgasm in front of a passenger.

You have to have the last laugh today. He can’t win again.

Your fingers begin to undo his jacket as you look at his tie; giving you an idea. A desperate groan leaves your lips as you squeeze your thighs together. The vibrations are almost too much.

“Turn it off…” you whisper, your brows knitted together with need.

“I want you to cum on it…”

“I want to cum on your cock,” you retort, you aren’t simply stating what you want, it’s an order.

He looks down at you as he feels you peel the jacket off of his shoulders. This is a new tone from you and he thinks he likes it. So demanding. But then again, what else should he expect from someone who’s been teased over five to six hours?

Your fingers now undo his tie, slipping the regal purple material from under his collar.

Another desperate groan fills the room as you try to resist a climax, spurring him on to reach for his pocket and turn it off.

A heavy sigh of relief is released from your parted lips. Your eyes close as you relish in the peace and stillness within you. The muscles in your core relax once more, unclenching around the toy.

You step away and remove your uniform, keeping his tie wrapped around your hand.

“What do you intend to do with that?” Miguel asks, gesturing towards his tie before removing his crisp white shirt.

“Finish getting undressed and you’ll find out,” you reply slyly.

Before long, you’re both naked and lying on the bed, kissing one another hungrily. You decide to turn it up a notch.

“I’m so wet for you…”

He moans as he imagines what it’s going to feel like, sliding into your heat with ease.

Your hand glides down his front as you watch his muscles flex under your delicate touch, until they reach his urgent dick.

“Looks like you’re ready for me…”

Miguel nods in response. Now it’s him looking all needy. Perfect.

“Turn over, baby. Hands behind your back.”

His half-closed eyes widen as he puts two and two together.

“You’re using my tie to restrain me, chiquita?” he mumbles.

You bite your lip and nod your head, hoping he’ll go ahead with this.

To your surprise, he does as you say. His magnificent body turns over on the bed. The muscles in his arms and back flex as he places his hands behind him.

Slowly you wrap the long purple material around his wrists and tie them together, making it as complex as possible so he can’t wriggle out of it.

Then, just because it’s there, you bite his ass cheek, like you did in Paris, earning a grunt before a groan as you suck on his firm skin.

“Fuck, baby… You hungry?”

“Mhmmm… very…”

“Get up and sit on the couch,” you instruct him before spanking his peachy ass which elicits a yelp.

You like this power you have over him. It feels good to change things up a bit.

Now, without the use of his arms, he struggles to get off of the bed. You decided to help him up.

He flops back into the couch, positioning his backside further forward on the cushion so he can make room for his restrained arms. His gorgeous, narrow hips presented perfectly for you. Ready and waiting.

His gaze rests upon you as you finally pull the vibrator from your pussy. It almost feels strange now that it’s gone. He nearly moans as he notices how much it glistens in the light.

The cushion dips even lower as you straddle his hips. The two of you look at each other quietly as you rest your hands against his shoulders and lower your hips slightly until the tip of his length kisses your drenched entrance.

“Is this my punishment for teasing you? I’m not allowed to touch you?” he asks seductively, thinking it’s cute you want to punish him.

“Maybe…” you whisper against his lips as you slowly start to sit.

“Maybe not…”

The tight ring of your core crowns his cock before sinking lower, taking him in deeper and deeper. You’re that wet, no hands are required to keep him in place. He just slides in with complete ease.

Whether it is his punishment or not, it’s already working. Your torturous descent on his shaft spurs him on to wriggle his arms to try and break free. To pull you onto him fully, to get you to take him right up to the hilt.

He feels so deep inside you, far deeper than the toy ever reached. It’s so satisfying feeling the hot skin of his dick infiltrating you, only adding to the inferno generated inside of you from the vibrator.

“Mhmmm chiquita, if this isn’t my punishment, then what is?”

His breath is shaky, making it almost impossible to speak. He starts to wonder what he’s got himself into.

“You’ll see…” you reply with a smirk.

You start off slow. Rippling your body with every rise and fall. Each ripple generates a delicious grind of your clit against his perfectly defined ‘V’ above his hips. With all the teasing you endured, you don’t think it’ll take too long. The smooth, pre-cum dripping head of his shaft gently massages over your g-spot, making up for the persistent, sharp, buzzing it has received over the last few hours.

“Mhmm you’re so deep inside me baby…” you moan to him before speeding up a bit.

He lets out a pathetic moan as you compliment his size, commenting how far inside of you he can reach.

“Keep riding me, chiquita - more…”

“You want more?”

“Ssssí~” he hisses with pleasure, his eyes almost closed.

You increase your efforts, speeding up, grinding harder. But then you cool things down, slowing and doing lighter ripples. He simply whimpers for more. You grin, this still isn’t his punishment.

For what feels like the millionth time today, a tightening sensation builds within you. His noises of need working alongside physical and satisfying stimulation, inside and out, brings you closer to your release.

He senses this too. Your moans are increasing in pitch and your breathing quickens. The hot, moist walls of your core clench hard around him. Harder than ever. He’s certainly given you a workout.

“Faster, please baby, faster!” he begs you, his voice breaking as he tries to speak

That desperation in his voice as he begs you is your tipping point. Your release feels well and truly mind blowing. You kiss him between your moans as you slow down your efforts.

“No…” he pauses as you kiss him, “no, don’t stop…”

You smirk against his lips as you brush his hair from his face.

“I’m all tired out, baby… it’s been a long day.”

“No! Please! You can’t just stop right now…”

Despite his urgent protests, you dismount him and step away from the couch. He cries out for you, moaning, begging.

His voice dies down however when he sees you grab the toy and the remote from his trousers pocket.

“What- what are you…”

“Shhh…” you hush him as you kneel between his parted legs in front of the sofa.

“You must be quiet, people are still sleeping…” you whisper to him with a grin.

The relentless buzz returns as you turn it on with the remote. This time, it’s louder as it’s no longer buried within you.

Miguel pants as he watches you inch the toy closer to his throbbing cock.

You press it against the sensitive tip, making his whole body tense up as he cries out again.

“Shhh… don’t make a sound remember? Just like how I couldn’t on the plane.”

He tips his head back as he tries to breathe deeply through the intense sensation. This is his punishment, like-for-like payback.

Slowly, you swirl the vibrating toy around the top, alternating in pressure with every revolution. His body jolts and tenses with each agonising moment that passes.

Then you drag the vibrator down the underside of his dick, running over every vein until you reach his balls.

He arches his back violently as his legs open wider in response to your teasing. You notice that he’s being quiet now, gritting his teeth.

Pre-cum beads at his slit after a large throb.

“Chi- chiquita…” he whispers, his big brown eyes looking at you pleadingly.

“Lo siento~” (I’m sorry)

His hips jolt again.

“Por favor, lo siento~” (Please, I’m sorry)

To change things up, you run the toy up and down his shaft, all around it.

You’re teasing him so much that pre-cum pools at the base of his length.

Another click on the remote changes the intensity and pattern. Rather than just constant buzzing, it pulses in a slow and steady rhythm. You watch, hypnotised as his hips thrust against the toy, desperately seeking more contact and stimulation.

Sweat beads on his skin, glinting in the light as he struggles to find his release.

Finally, you feel he’s been punished enough. The buzzing instantly stops at the press of the remote button and you put the toy aside.

Before he can say or do anything, your hands reach behind him to undo his restraints as you take him into your mouth. The taste of salt spreads across your tongue as you swirl it around the head.

“Fuck, chiquita!” he grunts as his arms break free.

Desperate fingers tug at your perfect bun, destroying the hair style and letting your locks tumble down around your face. With his hands in your hair, he pulls you down gently, careful not to make you choke.

Eventually, he pulls you up, making you release him with a wet pop. In one swift motion, he picks you up and carries you to the bed.

“I need to be inside you, properly…” he mumbles before placing you gently on the mattress.

Within seconds he’s on top of you, making love to you, grunting heavily into your ear.

He brings you to climax, one after another, until he finally gets his release. Loud groans fill the hotel room, erupting from his parted lips.

“Shhh! You’ll wake the other hotel guests…” you hush him before giggling quietly.

“I don’t care - fuck them…” he groans into your ear again.

“I’d rather you fuck me,” you retort.

“Your wish is my command…”

I hope you enjoyed Part 9! Part 10 and 11 are out on early access on Patreon.

Next Chapter >

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[theroseceleste]

Pilot Miguel - Part 14 - Taking Out The Trash

It's confrontation time with Xina - much to Miguel's annoyance...

Word count - 3718

MINORS DNI

Contains : Dramatic confrontation, suspicion of cheating, exchange of harsh words. Smut - penetrative sex.

This is the last official chapter of Pilot Miguel. BUT if you have any suggestions of what you'd like Miguel and the reader to get up to - travel or... ahem... otherwise... be sure to let me know in the comments and I'll see what I can do. So enjoy part 14!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

If you enjoy this fic, please consider liking, commenting or re-blogging. Many thanks xx

Miguel has gone from having a wife, to living alone after getting divorced, and then now housing not one but two women in his large apartment.

He finally meets the heavily talked about friend of yours, Ashley, as she carries in just a couple of boxes full of her necessities to put in the spare room, where she’ll be sleeping for the foreseeable future.

She greets him with a friendly smile and a firm shake of a hand as she finally sees for herself the sheer height and build of the man you call your boyfriend.

As usual, Miguel seems slightly reserved at first when meeting your best friend. But over the coming days he adjusts to her presence and starts to settle down as if it was just him and you in the apartment again.

It feels good to have company in his penthouse again. His home had become far too big for just himself, and for once he felt small. Better still, he has company in his bed. Someone to hold onto at night. Someone to listen to breathing deeply while sleeping peacefully. Improving his mood even more is that Xina has fallen silent since he took you to New Jersey. Perhaps she has finally got the message…

While he is enjoying the company, he does have to practise some restraint. He can’t simply smother you with kisses, curled up on the sofa of an evening while Ashley sits there too. But he saves it all for the bedroom. Showering you with his love and undivided attention there instead, while you giggle or moan with pleasure - depending on what he’s doing.

One day, you and Ashley are out investigating a potential new flat, while Miguel brings home groceries. He can’t deny feeling slightly wounded that you’re still considering moving out with Ashley once you’re both ready. He had hoped you’d want to stay with him. Maybe you think it’s still too early in the relationship to consider living together…

As he emerges from the lift outside his apartment, his somewhat pleasant mood plummets like a lead balloon. Xina stands there, waiting for him; looking relieved to see him alone.

“I need to talk to you…” she begins, hands nervously fiddling together.

“No you don’t,” he replies as he fishes his keys from his jeans pocket.

Turning the key in the door, he pushes it open and tries to slip in without her following, however his large build doesn’t exactly help with that.

Like a magnetic attraction, Xina sticks behind closely, sneaking through the doorframe in his wake and enters his apartment.

“Tch…” Miguel tuts with annoyance as he glares at his ex-wife.

“I really have to talk to you. Please will you just listen to me?”

Taking the groceries into his kitchen, he starts to unpack the food.

“You’ve got five minutes, then you’re out.”

Miguel doesn’t even look at Xina as she enters the kitchen. His disinterest is evident on his face. He feels he’s going to regret giving her the time of day, but if he listens; maybe she’ll be more willing to leave once she’s said her piece.

“Is she pregnant?”

He pauses and looks up at his ex-wife. Finally, he rests his hands on the kitchen counter, mind racing trying to work out how she knew about the pregnancy scare.

“Firstly, what the hell gave you that idea? And, secondly, (Y/N) is not pregnant.”

Xina frowns, something’s not adding up…

“Then explain why you ordered a baby grow on our shared Amazon account?”

Damn it… That was something he’s been meaning to sort out for a while… He takes out his phone and starts to explore the Amazon account settings. Yep, she’s still there. Not for much longer… A simple tap on the screen unlinks her from his account before he locks the device and faces it down against the countertop.

“This really is none of your business…” he tries to remind her.

“Just tell me!” she raises her voice.

Miguel sighs as he contemplates his answer.

“She thought she was pregnant and was terrified that she was going to lose me as a result. I bought the baby grow as a means to show her I’m staying with her if she was indeed expecting. But, it was a false alarm. Happy?”

Xina breathes a sigh of relief before her eyes wander around the kitchen. It mostly looks the same, but there are some new things too. A rather feminine-looking diary lays on the countertop - certainly not Miguel’s style. What’s it doing there?

“She’s living with you now?”

That relief she felt leaves her within an instant.

“She has a name!”

Throughout their entire marriage, Miguel never once raised his voice at Xina. However, her current behaviour is testing his patience. The blatant disrespect that she displays regarding you upsets him greatly. Her audacity in thinking that she can just worm her way back in, and push you out is maddening. If only she showed this level of interest in him when he was fighting to keep their marriage alive. Sadly for Xina, Miguel sees it as far too little, far too late.

His voice reverberates in his modern kitchen, only enhancing the harsh bite behind his tone. The volume in which he speaks shocks her to her core. Revealing a side to her ex-husband she never knew.

“Fine… Is (Y/N) living with you now?” Xina repeats her question, begrudgingly adjusting it to Miguel’s liking.

He folds his arms, now totally abandoning the groceries. His lips arch in a cold-looking frown.

“You know, Xina, I still fail to see why this is any of your business…”

His ex steps forward, an imploring expression plastered on her face as she navigates around the island of countertops in the kitchen.

“It’s my business because I want you back. I was a fool to push to end the marriage.”

“And you’re an even bigger fool for thinking I will just agree to starting again with you.”

She expected that comment from him, but it doesn’t dampen her determination as she steps even closer.

“What will it take to convince you to have me back?”

Her hand delicately lands on Miguel’s bicep, his arms still folded, acting as a barrier between them.

“What will it take?” he asks before moving a hand, taking her wrist and prying it off of him then folding his arms again.

“There’s nothing you can offer me that will change my mind.”

Miguel sounds calm and collected although, his eyes glance up at the clock on the kitchen wall to check the time. He has to get her to leave soon…

Xina’s brows knit together, her goal slipping from her fingers fast.

“I think you should go now. You’ve got your answer.”

He turns back to the groceries but she grabs hold of his arm again.

“No. I’m not leaving.”

Miguel pulls himself away this time with an unfriendly snarl. A warning that Xina is outstaying her welcome. Although, she was never welcome in the first place…

“Don’t touch me.”

Panic rises within her; she’s losing the battle.

Maybe out of sheer ignorance or pure desperation, Xina’s fingers latch onto his shirt pulling him close. His eyes widen as she grabs him. He has to get her out of his apartment now, before you and Ashley return.

“Get the fuck off me!”

His arm swipes between the both of them; disconnecting her grip on him before he takes hold of her shoulders and spinning her around on the spot.

“And get the fuck out of my home.”

Push comes to shove, literally. It doesn’t take much to move Xina out of the kitchen and across the apartment to the front door, despite her putting up a fight.

“This - this used to be our home, remember?” she asks, desperately trying to get him to see her side of the argument. The door looming closer as he continues to shunt her towards it.

“And it’s just my home now.”

He feels some stronger resistance as she stiffens her legs and the souls of her shoes dig into the wooden flooring.

“Stop pushing!”

“Start moving then!” he growls, gritting his teeth.

He desperately wants her gone, but he has to be careful not to hurt her.

Xina turns her body in his grasp so she can face him as if she knows he can’t be too firm.

“Please Miguel!” she begs, grabbing onto his shirt again just as he watches the door handle turn; you’ve just come back with Ashley…

The voices you could hear as you approached the door quietened down the moment you entered.

Now you’re staring at the pair gripping onto one another as Ashley follows you inside.

Your eyes lock onto Xina’s and then Miguel’s as silence descends on the apartment. The room is so quiet, you’re sure your pounding heart can be heard as you try to process what you’re seeing.

“Can someone explain to me what’s going on?” you eventually ask as you feel Ashley place a protective arm around your shoulder.

Your question spurs Miguel into action and begins to push Xina towards you; his goal, to get her out of the penthouse as soon as humanly possible.

“Just taking out the trash,” your boyfriend growls, now sounding very irritated.

“But, what is said trash doing here in the first place?” Ashley speaks out on your behalf, which you’re thankful for.

Your friend’s tone is harsh and unforgiving. It’s clear she’s assuming the worst in him, but you’re not quite so quick as her to jump to conclusions just yet. With everything he’s said and done for you lately, it doesn’t make sense that he’d be tempted to take his ex-wife back again. Also, you know he’s not stupid enough to arrange for Xina to visit him when you and Ashley were due to return at any moment. This smells like a dastardly plan Xina has cooked up.

Both you and Ashley move out of the way to let Miguel pass as he continues to push Xina. She shouts and pushes back, fighting to be heard. It is only then Ashley sees what you see.

“Miguel! You can’t do this to me! I still love you - please!”

Her voice breaks as she shouts. She pushes back against your boyfriend. Looking at his face you can see she’s upsetting him more and more. You can’t deny that her words are hurting you too.

The pair are practically in the doorway as Xina clings on to the frame for leverage.

“What about all my desperate pleas to keep our marriage going, hmm?”

He shoves again.

“They fell on deaf ears!”

Another shove.

“I’m sorry. I was an idiot for not listening to you!”

Xina releases the doorframe and attempts to grapple her ex-husband again but with his strength, she’s almost out of the door.

“We- we can go back to our happier times! I promise you, I pro—“

She stops talking abruptly the moment the pair are out of sight. As you peer around the doorframe, you see him bent down over her, making you think that he’s kissing her for a brief moment. Instead, you hear a deep, threatening growl come from him as he responds to her.

“Ever since I started seeing (Y/N), my life and how I see myself has changed for the better.”

His voice is low as his hands pull her closer so he can continue to whisper angrily in her ear. Making damn sure every syllable is heard and understood with the utmost clarity.

“With (Y/N), I’m not a disappointment. That was all I ever was to you. There was nothing I could do to make up for my absence no matter how hard I tried.”

Xina whimpers at his words. She knows it’s game over, but he keeps going. His breath, hot against her neck, but for all the wrong reasons. Her heart pounds as she feels him seething, clearly releasing previously unspoken words of frustration laced with rising anger. Her little stunt could have cost him his relationship with you; and to him, that is unforgivable.

“You’re toxic and (Y/N) is a breath of the purest air. She’s gentle, kind, content with just spending time with me. Whereas with you, you expected me to shower you with gifts…” he pauses for a moment as though a lightbulb illuminates inside his head.

“That’s why you want to be back in my life isn’t it? You miss the money and the security that you so carelessly threw away. You greedy, selfish bitch.”

With that, he shoves her away from him. His face, wearing the biggest and most dangerous of scowls you have ever seen. Xina’s face is also a picture as he outed her. That desperate pleading look leaves her face, replaced by an utterly disgusted expression.

She slaps him hard across the face, the sharp sound reverberating around them in the hall outside his apartment.

Something snaps inside you. You’re not sure if it was the sound of Xina’s palm colliding with the side of Miguel’s face, or his grunt of pain, but it did something to you that made you see red. Before Ashley even realises, you dash out of the apartment.

The sound of your rushing footsteps alert Miguel that you’re coming. You’re not a violent person, but you despise the fact that Xina has laid a finger on your man. She’s hurt him and now you want to hurt her.

Before you get close enough, Miguel catches you and pulls you into a tight hold, locking you against him to stop you doing something you might regret.

Your head is pressed against his chest. The pounding of his heart matches yours. Emotions run high within him; touched that you’d rush to defend him like that. His eyes lock onto Xina’s as he clutches you against him.

“Get the fuck out of my home and my life.”

His voice is a deep, threatening growl which you can feel against your face as it vibrates within his hard, muscular chest.

Xina is totally silent. The sight before her is a clear sign that she has completely lost. There’s no coming back after this, the damage she has created is irreparable. This is all on her…

Without uttering another word, she turns, tears burning in her eyes as she makes her way to call the lift.

You hear Miguel take in a breath before he speaks again.

“I should thank you Xina…”

His ex-wife pauses before stepping into the lift and looks back at him with an expression full of regret.

“If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have met (Y/N) and fallen in love with her.”

Your eyes snap open. He loves you?

Xina rushes into the lift, suppressing a sob as she holds down the button that closes the door.

The moment that she is gone, Miguel feels you wriggle in his grasp as you try to pull away. You want to see him - all of him after his declaration of love for you. His hold on you loosens and lets you look up into his face.

“You love me?” you ask with a shaky voice.

Miguel beams at you. A smile so wide, you never thought was possible from a reserved guy like him, but there it is, for your eyes only.

“Si, mi amor. Te amo.” (Yes, my love. I love you)

Now that is something you do know for definite in Spanish, and it makes your heart flutter like a butterfly beating its wings in a bid to escape the confines of your chest.

A small smile creeps across Ashley’s face. She feels you and him deserve some alone time. Quietly she walks away and heads into the kitchen to sort out the abandoned shopping. For a moment back there, she was prepared to unleash hell upon him, but she could see in the way he held you that he’s mad about you and wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.

You suddenly feel weightless as he picks you up, carrying you bridal-style into his apartment and closing the door behind him.

He takes you to his room and gently places you on his bed, joining you shortly after.

Your fingers brush tenderly against his cheek where Xina struck him earlier, soothing the skin that still stings slightly. His eyes close as he revels in your touch while he leans over you.

His lips caress yours in a gentle, loving kiss as you both slowly become overwhelmed in the simmering heat of the moment.

“I love you too, Miguel…” you whisper, knowing full well what saying his name does to him.

He’s lost it completely. Like flipping a switch inside him, he goes from sweet and tender to heavy and passionate.

He makes short work of removing yours and his clothing, throwing them into a messy heap on the floor.

Laying between your legs, he plunges into you deep; taking you with urgent need. Your moans accompany his grunts and groans, creating a symphony of pleasure.

He pumps into you as you lay back in pure bliss, legs wide open, accommodating his beautiful body. The feeling of your warm, wet walls clenching around him makes him melt, driving him wild.

“Yes…” you hiss at the peak of each thrust.

Tingles erupt within you, pulsing out from your core as he pushes deeper, harder and faster.

His magnificent hips grind against yours, ensuring that sweet spot gets the stimulation it needs to make you fall apart for him.

The orgasmic tension builds within you rapidly, each thrust, each grind, each grunt pushes you closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy. Your breathing quickens and becomes more shallow. Eyelids are heavy as you’re so, so close to reaching your peak; the ultimate pleasure. He knows it too. A smile grows on his lips as he watches you teetering on the edge.

“That’s it, mi amor. Cum for me, chiquita. Te amo…” he purrs in your ear, his warm breath fanning across your cheek and neck.

The bed creaks with every movement of his efforts, and it only gets louder as he ramps everything up again. Your mewls sound more desperate, the precipice getting even closer. You can’t think straight anymore, thoughts becoming hazy as your body homes in on that building pleasure that’s close to breaking-point.

“Cum for me, give me that orgasm, come on…” he grunts again through gritted teeth, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

He’s working hard for you today. Harder than any other time before. The need to blow your mind is strong. To make up for the upset that you were put through; although it wasn’t his fault.

He’s rocking your world and you know it. You sense that there’s meaning behind every thrust. Each pump into you is its own individual declaration of his love for you.

His breath falters, he’s close too.

“Por favor, mi amor!” Miguel begs you, his voice breaking.

His final efforts before climaxing pushes you over the edge with him. You fall together into the abyss of pleasure, lost for several moments. In that instance, you’re the only two people in the world - the only two that matter anyway. There was no Xina, no Nueva York, no world, even.

You close your eyes as your intense orgasm washes over you like a tidal wave. He kisses you fiercely, lips crashing against yours before his tongue invades your mouth. The final pulses of his climax ebbs away as he’s left reeling.

You feel him lower himself onto you, his body totally flush against yours. The warm security of his arms wrap around you before rolling onto his back and having you on top.

You thought it was over, but boy you’re wrong. His hands slide down your sides before possessively gripping your hips. The thrusts begin again as he is rejuvenated with a second wind.

Soft moans and groans restart as the new angle helps him hit a different spot inside.

He makes you come undone for him over and over again. Each time he changes position, taking you exactly how you like it. He’s gentle and soft, then he’s rough and fast. Slow and tender, then heavy and passionate.

The moment when your eyes close for longer with each blink, he stops; knowing you have had all that you can take. But his love doesn’t stop there. He holds you close after cleaning you up and taking care of you.

You are left without a shadow of a doubt over his feelings for you. The pleasure he’s given you has totally swept away that sickening feeling you had when you saw Miguel and Xina clutching each other.

After the harsh things he said to his ex-wife today, you’re certain she’ll never come back; but if she ever dares try, you know damn well that Miguel will remain by your side.

The pair of you embrace one another in his bed. His fingers gently trace up and down your sides as he watches you melt at his tender touch. He smiles softly as his heart swells to what feels like twice its size as his love for you grows with each passing second. He’s crazy about you.

Casting his mind back, he reminisces about all of the sweet things you’ve done. The way you bumped into him, the feeling of your slight body pressing against his front as you stood up in the galley of the plane. How you gave him a pack of biscuits instead of giving it to Peter, despite him being an asshole to you.

That cute little text you sent him after he gave you his number. How sweet you were when he fell into the pool in Acapulco and how forgiving you were when he apologised for sending that damn video and those texts. He loved how thoughtful you were when you booked a paddle-boarding session with you the day after. Your great humour is admirable, and he loves how silly you can be.

The way you’re so responsive to his efforts when making love with you. Your little sounds drive him wild.

You’re his saviour; his sweet angel, and he loves every fibre of your being…

Thank you so much for reading, liking, commenting, re-blogging this fic. 157 pages and over 53,000 words was put into this and I had an absolute blast.

This is the last "official" chapter of Pilot Miguel, so if you have any suggestions about where Miguel and reader travels to, or getting up to... other things, let me know and I'll see what I can do.

In the mean time, I'm working on other projects - yes I'm still gathering ideas to continue Mafia Miguel too. If you've not read that yet, click on his name here.

If you are interested in commissioning me, please click on the link below to find out more.

If you wish to follow me on Twitter, please click on the link below.

[theroseceleste]

Ahem... I have been talked into writing a Vampire Miguel. So... Stay tuned! Information on where to find it is above. Beautiful picture created by the super talented @smileyrhi717

[theroseceleste]

Mafia Miguel - Part 5

This is the fifth instalment to Mafia Miguel.

You can find chapter before this one below.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Contains : Female reader, smut - breast play and penetrative sex. Mentions of anxiety and death, brief mention of testing experiments on live subjects

Word count - 3848

Hope you enjoy chapter 5!

----------

The three of you walk together in a park. You, Miguel and Gabriella. Hand in hand; a chain of happiness, love and peace. You three are laughing, smiling and simply enjoying each other’s company. However, that blissful happiness doesn’t last long.

Dark clouds form overhead, an ominous chill creeps over your skin and into your bones.

Ahead of you stands Kingpin. His evil grin spread wide and daunting. Turning back you attempt to go the way you came, Kingpin looms behind.

Any remaining jovial feelings cease running through you as Gabriella releases your hand, leaving it to feel cold and empty.

Looking in her direction you jump in shock to find your boss standing right next to you.

Before you muster up the energy and voice to scream… you wake up with a start.

Eyes snapping wide open as you sit bolt upright in bed, breathing heavily.

A dead weight slips from your chest and onto your lap almost causing you to jolt in surprise. Miguel’s relaxed hand lay limp on top of your leg. He must have had his arm draped over you as you both slept.

As you wake up more, you begin to register his warmth. His heat feels more intense while he’s sleeping peacefully.

Taking his hand, you place it gently next to him.

His face looks so calm and peaceful. It’s hard to believe that his sleeping, beautiful face can be so intense and serious during waking hours. Although he’s been so loving, caring and soft with you since your date.

You cannot resist, your gentle smile grazes his forehead and places a tender kiss. His cute little cow-lick tuft of hair tickles your nose as you give the sleeping man your affection.

Looking at the digital clock on the bedside table you see it’s 7am. You would have loved to sleep in more but your dream disturbed you too much.

Carefully peeling back the sheets, you get up in a bid to not wake him and head for the en-suite.

Warm water cascades down onto your naked form, your skin glistening under the light in the en-suite. The sound of the water hitting the shower floor echoed inside the large square of glass you’re encased in. Wet hair clings to your back as you soak it through.

While lathering in some beautifully scented shampoo you suddenly feel an extra pair of hands greet you from behind. Your body flinches in surprise but melts rather quickly when they slide round to your front and cup your supple breasts, rolling your nipples between fingers and thumbs.

You nearly make yourself jump when an involuntary moan escapes your lips and reverberates in the shower cubicle.

A warm bare chest and abdomen presses against your back while those manly hands continue to fondle your breasts.

Just as quickly as his chest pressed against you, it went away just as fast. However, you felt Miguel rest his chin on your right shoulder instead.

“You left me in my bed.”

If it wasn’t for feeling his smile against your cheek, you would have thought he sounded stern.

His fingers give you a slightly harder pinch and a tug, making you moan again and lean your head against his.

“I should probably be heading back home soon,” you reply reluctantly.

“Stay… for a little longer - por favor,” he whispers into your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

Oh how you wish you could. The thought of spending a lazy Sunday in bed with him sounds like absolute bliss. However you know Kingpin will be wanting an update soon and it made you feel uncomfortable doing that while under the same roof as the man you’re supposed to be reporting on.

The hold he has on you while you both shower makes things more difficult to resist. Especially when you start to feel something warm prodding into your back. You suppress a moan and squeeze your legs together.

His large hands totally cover your breasts as he massages them and teases your nipples. Maybe staying a little while longer won’t hurt…

While the warm water cascades over the both of you and rinsing off your shampoo. Your hand reaches behind and takes hold of his hardened, throbbing cock. His hips jolt immediately against your touch as he groans.

“Mhmm… cariño…”

He gasps as you squeeze slightly and tug on him.

“Fuck…”

Leaning your head back against his chest you enjoy feeling it rise and fall as his breathing quickens while enjoying your delightful touch.

“Keep going like that and I shall have to fuck you against the shower wall…”

You giggle as you fist his length a little harder and faster.

“Is that a warning or an invitation?”

“Both… Ugh… fuck, cariño…”

A hand slips down from one of your breasts to between your legs. Sliding in and out of your slick, sensitive folds and massaging your clit. Your back arches as a lusty moan erupts from your parted lips.

“You’re so wet for me, hermosa…”

A grunt joins your moans as your fingers squeeze tighter around him.

“Alright, you asked for it.”

He spins you round on the spot in front of him, rendering you slightly dizzy. Fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs as he grapples you. He lifts you with ease and places you against the cold glass of the shower cubicle, making you gasp.

Without much warning, he enters you with a precise thrust. You cry out as that void within you is filled suddenly. Your walls stretch around him as he takes you.

Both of his arms support you under your legs while his hands grip your ass and lower back. Taking great care in making sure you feel secure.

“M- Miguel!” you squeal.

For extra support, you fist your hands in his soaked hair.

A look of pure ecstasy adorns Miguel’s as he tilts his head back and closes his eyes.

“Good girl, take me nice and deep…”

He grits his teeth as he thrusts harder into you.

“You feel so good cariño,” he pants heavily, “so damn good.”

At the angle he has you in, pressed against the glass, his urgent shaft hits all the right places inside your aching core. He feels you beginning to clench around him, squeezing him hard.

“You’re close hermosa.” He grunts as he pumps away aggressively. “I can feel it.” His gaze is now fixed back on you as he watches you begin to crumble.

“Cum for me… clench on me nice and hard.”

His words seem to have a magic effect on you. Just hearing him tell you to climax sends you falling into a whirling vortex of ecstasy. Your cries, squeals and moans reverberate again between the glass panes, drowning out the running water from the showerhead.

“Oh God, Miguel!!”

His determined expression burns into you as he continues to slam his hips into you. Grunts accompany your sweet noises of pleasure each time he feels every pulse and clench around his length.

A tightening sensation builds up between his legs. Watching you revel in your pleasure excites him and brings him closer to orgasm.

Wrapping his arms around you, he pulls you away from the glass and presses your body against his.

You couldn’t resist kissing his neck and grazing your teeth against his skin.

Quick, short-burst thrusts pummelled into you in a punishing but exquisite fashion. That cock-drunk haze similar to last night fills your mind once more.

Finally, his grunts grow louder but his frequency slows, matching his speed. Every noise he made punctuated every pump until he groaned uncontrollably. Releasing his hot seed inside you with every pulse and throb.

He stills, allowing you both to catch your breath before placing you back down on the floor. Miguel helps you finish your shower between planting tender kisses all over your body.

***

You make your way downstairs to look for your bag feeling thankful that Miguel will call for his limo. You don’t fancy doing the walk of shame in the clothes you wore yesterday.

To your surprise, you hear the elevator doors open, revealing a smartly dressed woman in a bob hair style.

Her eyes meet yours as she steps out and a smile creeps across her face.

“I knew he’s getting some!” she yells excitedly.

A confused expression creeps across your face.

“I’m sorry?”

“Oh, ignore me. I’m Lyla - Miguel’s PA.”

The stranger holds out her hand, waiting for you to take it.

Hanging your bag over your shoulder first, you take the woman’s hand and shake it.

“I’m (Y/N), nice to meet you.”

A buzz from your phone vibrates in your bag, making you flinch nervously. Lyla subtly raises an eyebrow as she watches you open it and take the phone out. 

Colour drains from your face when you see it’s a message from Kingpin himself.

“I’ve got most of the information I need. Meet me at your earliest convenience at Fisk tower.”

For a short moment, your hearing goes, a constant ring penetrates your ears as your heart pounds and the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. Your grip on your phone loosens, dropping it back into your bag, making a dull thudding noise.

“You good (Y/N?)” Lyla asks, looking concerned.

You give your head a vigorous shake to snap out of the state of shock. Then you put on a smile to play it off.

“Fine, thank you. Miguel should be down in a minute. He’s just getting dressed.”

The personal assistant looks you up and down, however her expression remains looking concerned.

“Miguel’s never spoken about you. What do you do (Y/N)?”

Not this question again…

“Just some boring office job. Nothing special like what Miguel does in the world of politics.”

A chuckle from Lyla fills the air.

“Heh, yeah - politics. Thrilling job…”

You detect the hint of sarcasm in her voice.

Footsteps coming down the stairs indicates Miguel is coming.

“Morning Lyla,” he says as he fastens the final couple of buttons on his shirt. Approaching the both of you.

“I see you’ve met (Y/N), I hope you’ve not been acting weird and scaring her off now…”

A guilty but cheeky expression grew across her face.

“I may have shouted something about you ‘getting some’-”

“Jesus - Lyla! Right - I’m docking your bonus for finding-” he pauses as both his and Lyla’s eyes go wide for a second, catching himself before he mentions Kingpin’s name. He clears his throat.

“Finding the perfect birthday present for Gabriella…” he finishes while glaring at his PA who’s doing everything in her power not to laugh.

Your eyes flit between the both of them for a moment.

“Well, I probably should get going. Thank you, Miguel, for a lovely evening.”

You step towards him and plant a soft kiss on his cheek.

“I had lots of fun with Gabi too.”

“Oh, don’t you want breakfast?” he asks you, his eyes wide, looking desperate for you to stay.

“Something’s come up and I really need to go sort it out. Besides, Lyla’s here now.”

You step away and make your way to the lift.

“I can come with you, Lyla can wait here,”

“Eh? Hang on…”

Miguel’s PA sounds rather indignant at his comment.

Turning back to the mafia man you reply;

“I’d really love you to, but I can’t get distracted with you about. I’ll text you later, okay?”

His shoulders slump with disappointment. It’s clear he wasn’t ready for you to leave.

“Alright cariño…”

He holds the lift doors open, to stop them from closing between you both and gives you one last kiss.

“Speak to you later,” he whispers.

“Of course.”

Miguel reluctantly takes a step back and releases his hold on the door, allowing it to close. After hearing the lift depart, he turns back to Lyla.

“Alright, what do you want?”

***

Your shaking hands fumble as you push your key into the lock. Twisting it, you hear the click and push the handle down to enter your apartment.

You need to change, eat and get back out again to go to Fisk tower. As you rummage through your wardrobe, your mind is abuzz with rushing thoughts. What information did Kingpin find?

After finally choosing something to wear, you remove your current clothing and change completely.

You wolf down a sandwich you quickly made for yourself before texting Kingpin back to say you’re on your way and rush out of your apartment door.

***

Arriving at Fisk tower, another text from Kingpin tells you to find him in his office. Once again you find yourself in a lift. Your hands fiddle nervously as your heart pounds. Although you feel slight relief as it sounds like Kingpin might not need you to report on Miguel so much - you hope.

The wide metal doors slide open, revealing the large man already waiting at his meeting table. Countless sheets of A4 paper are spread all over the desk as Mr. Fisk gazes down on them pensively. He barely even acknowledges your arrival until you pull out a chair and sit down.

“Ah, (Y/N). Thank you for coming at such short notice,” he begins with a smile before looking around for something.

“I trust you had a good day yesterday baking and getting cosy with Mr. O’Hara?”

The all too familiar nauseous feeling returns in your stomach, making you regret eating that sandwich.

“While you’ve been gathering information, I had my own puzzle to solve.”

Finally he grabs an empty folder labelled '#2099'. You presume the contents of the folder is what is strewn about all over the desk.

You remain silent, but your gaze flits between the documents, the folder and your boss.

“The other day you told me that your man, Mr. O’Hara, had a wife; correct?”

Swallowing hard, you give a nod in response, hoping the nauseous feeling will pass soon, but you won’t bank on it.

“And she died a few years ago?” he continues to ask before you give another nod.

Taking a piece of paper, he hands it to you for you to look at. You glance down at it, realising there was a fair bit to read. With shaking hands, you take it from Kingpin and skim through the information printed on the paper.

Alchemax Project #2099

Team assigned to project:

Maria O’Hara

Randall Turner

Julio Garcia

Jonah Krause

Frederick Becker

Project Leader:

“Kingpin”

Project Details:

Using Maria’s fascination, wisdom and expertise in spiders, research and experimentation has begun on producing a serum containing arachnid DNA mixed with a non-lethal dose of radiation.

Specifics as to why this project is necessary is withheld by the project leader as this is written.

So far, all experiments have been a total failure. Small test subjects have all perished after being injected by the serum. This goes without saying, but some members of the team are greatly distressed with the use of live subjects, however it has been insisted upon by the project leader.

I have sent in a request for more details, so we can get a better understanding of what is required.

Dr. Julio Garcia.

“Spider DNA?” you ask with a furrowed brow.

Kingpin takes another piece of paper and hands it to you. At the top there are the same details of the team members and project leader. But a different entry had been written in the project details section. It looks to be some form of diary that a member of the team had kept while the project was being run at Alchemax.

Project Details:

It is with great sadness and regret that I write in this journal that Maria O’Hara suffered a catastrophic reaction to the serum and passed away as a result. It is not clear what possessed her to inject herself with the serum. Perhaps it was severe stress, or a protest against using live subjects. It is unknown if she knew this would be the outcome.

Alchemax has requested that this project is suspended for the time being.

Dr. Julio Garcia.

Your heart falls into your stomach. Catastrophic reaction? You can only imagine how that must have felt, or maybe you can’t. A shiver runs down your spine just thinking about it.

“This is why Mr. O’Hara wants me dead. I’m ‘responsible’ for his beloved wife’s death,” Kingpin said with a hint of indignation, no remorse whatsoever.

“What did you want with a serum of radioactive spider DNA?” You couldn’t stop yourself from asking.

Your boss shrugs nonchalantly.

“It was, and still is, I suppose, a desire to enhance my employees; giving them an edge over any other mafia groups, like O’Hara’s and the police for that matter. We’d be unstoppable, imagine the possibilities.” A wide grin develops across his face, creasing his cheeks.

“But why specifically spider DNA?"

“Why not? They’re stealthy, fast and agile. Besides, the spider was also the most researched creature in Alchemax, lead by Maria O’Hara. It seems she was fascinated by them.”

Swallowing hard, you’re thankful that the project never became a success. Although it’s sad that it was brought to an end due to a tragic death.

Kingpin stands and walks over to his desk in search of a cigar. As he leaves you at the large meeting table alone, you look down at another piece of paper right in front of you. Another project journal entry is partially hidden by other sheets piled on top of it.

“Have you read everything on this desk?” you ask, trying not to sound suspicious.

Your boss has his back to you as he begins to try and light the cigar perched between his lips.

“No, not yet. There’s a lot to go through, clearly.”

Carefully sliding the paper from underneath the pile you take a quick look. It seems as though the journal was written after Maria’s death as all names but Dr Julio Garcia’s name was entered in the project team section.

Final journal entry for this project. I have carried out - in secret from the rest of the team - creating an antidote for the serum; should it threaten to cause another catastrophic reaction after being administered. Only I know its location in hope to keep it safe.

If anyone finds this journal, I implore you to never touch the serum of project #2099. However, if you are foolish enough to dabble with it, please come to me should the antidote be required.

Subtly folding the paper, you stash it into your bag before Kingpin turns to face you again after lighting his cigar.

“So, what do you intend to do now with this information?” you ask as he approaches the paper covered meeting table.

Mr. Fisk takes his seat again as he puffs away, sending columns of smoke into the air. You try your best to stifle a cough as your lungs immediately disagree with what you’re breathing in.

“Before I answer, I need you to give me his address.”

You groan internally at the thought of handing that precious information over to your boss. But what choice do you have? After a moment of hesitation, you reluctantly give him the requested details and look at him expectantly to answer your question.

“I’m sorry (Y/N). I know I said I’d answer, but I lied. I fear you have got too close to Mr. O’Hara despite my warnings-”

“You bastard!” you exclaim, slamming your hands against the table as anger erupts unexpectedly.

Kingpin nearly drops his cigar from his mouth. A flash of anger gleams in his eyes at your reaction.

Instead of retaliating, he takes a deeper drag and then exhales, sending all the smoke your way. You cough again as you use your hand to waft it out of your face.

“And that reaction is proof that I’m right in not telling you,” he pauses, “now, get out of here before your attitude lands you in more trouble.”

Mr. Fisk’s expression is cold as he speaks. He knew you’d get too close, but it was a risk he was willing to take to get the information he needed. It’s clear he never cared about your feelings in all of this.

Standing up suddenly, sending your chair sliding backwards across the floor as you glare at your boss. Grabbing your bag, you throw it over your shoulder and flounce out of his office as fast as possible.

You can’t get out of Fisk tower quickly enough. Nausea, anger, frustration and anxiety swirls uncomfortably in your mind.

All you want to do is return to your apartment and hide away under your bed covers. With a pounding heart, you make your way back home to do just that.

***

The next morning, Lyla sits at her own desk in the Web. Her boss isn’t in yet, she came in early with something niggling in the back of her mind. It had bothered her all day yesterday and all night. 

Maybe she has been in this job too long. Despite her cheeky persona with people she knew well, she couldn’t help being suspicious of new people. In hope to ease her mind, she begins to search for your name.

Lyla remembers you mentioning working in a boring office job, and yet your name doesn’t feature in any companies based in Nueva York. Her brows furrow. Things are already starting to look suspicious.

Her next port of call is searching the CCTV network. A contact of hers kindly gave her access a long time ago. She chose the day you saved Gabi outside her school, and ran a facial recognition program on all camera footage gathered since that day.

The first she found was you walking arm in arm with Miguel on your date. A faint smile cracks her face riddled with suspicion at the sight. She notices how happy her boss looked in the footage.

Next is a recording from a shop near your home. You’re carrying grocery bags. Nothing suspicious there…

No results showed up for the following couple of days. Nothing until yesterday, after Lyla saw you for herself that morning.

Her frown deepens as she watches footage of you entering Fisk tower.

“Oh, (Y/N)... what are you doing?” she whispers with a grave expression on her face.

Instantly, she grabs her phone and begins tapping away a message as she wears a rare expression on her face, a serious one.

***

It’s that time of the week again. You have been shopping for next week's groceries. It’s late at night, you had spent all day running errands and only now had the chance to buy yourself some food.

As you climb up the stairwell, a familiar pleasant smell fills your nostrils. Your heart beats fast as you recognise it as Miguel’s cologne.

Reaching the final step you see him standing there, waiting. The fast pace of your heartbeat increases, but not for a good reason. His expression is dark and you swear you see the whites of his eyes are slightly pink.

“Hello, (Y/N). I think we need to talk…”

----------

Click here for Part 6

I hope you enjoyed part 5.

I'm currently open for commissions. If you have a scenario you'd like to be written about your OC and our lovely Miguel, please check out my carrd.co or get in touch via email (also on the website)

If you wish to support me on Twitter you can find me here.

[theroseceleste]

Mafia Miguel - Part 8

You can find previous chapters below.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Contains : Female reader, mentions of death / murder, injections, cardiac arrest and CPR.

Word Count - 2704

Hope you enjoy chapter 8!

----------

The moment he speaks your name, he regrets it. His hands rush to his mouth as his face contorts in pain.

“Ahh! Son of a…”

His mouth must have been hurting from sprouting fangs.

Grunting suddenly, as he pulls his hands away from his face. He’s just caught his lip with his newly grown claws too.

His eyes widen as they lock onto the pointed tips on his fingers. The rise and fall of his chest quickens as panic sets in.

You watch him notice his changes in silence, you’re still in shock yourself. It’s a struggle to come up with relevant or appropriate words to soothe him at this moment. The both of you have temporarily forgotten that you’re straddling him as you’re too preoccupied.

“What the hell is happening to me?!”

Miguel’s voice cracks in shock.

To try and ground him you take hold of his hands and get his attention. But he growls at you and yanks his hands out of your grasp.

“Let go!”

He’s still mad at you. You flinch and gasp as he bares his sharp, white fangs.

“Miguel…”

With your voice small and quiet like a mouse your brow furrows with concern and hurt.

“What happened to Kingpin?” he snaps impatiently.

Your blood runs cold as you’re reminded of pulling the trigger on him earlier. Looking over the side of the table and onto the tiled lab floor gives him your answer.

Sitting up slightly with a bit of difficulty, he observes Kingpin’s dead body before looking back at you. His tired face, closer to yours.

“Who-“

“I shot him.”

“Why?”

Tears start to well up in your eyes and emotions peak as you begin to process everything you have done. From killing one man, to saving another.

Resting your hands on his shoulders you begin to respond. Your fingers, squeezing firmly around his muscles as if to emphasise the truth in your words.

“Because he was hurting you. He was killing you.” You look deeper into his ruby eyes, begging him to believe you. “I couldn’t let him.”

Before anything else is said between the both of you, hurried footsteps put you and Miguel on edge. Stealing your attention from one another and looking at the people entering the lab.

Lyla and a curly black haired woman come rushing in armed and ready to shoot. The first thing they see is you kneeling over Miguel on the table and grasping his shoulders.

Immediately, your hands leave his broad frame and rise in the air.

“Get off of him.” The other woman commands you, spurring your heart to skip a few beats.

A pink hue creeps across your face when you realise you’re straddling his lap still.

Lyla steps forward as she notices what lies beyond the table.

“Jess…” she says as she gestures to the large dead body on the floor.

A cold, calculating look flits to Kingpin then back up to you, gun raised. “I said-“

“That’s enough, Jess.” Miguel interrupts.

Lyla and Jess stand down and stare at him. Your eyes lock onto him too.

“But she-“

“I know!”

His snappy response makes everyone flinch.

Feeling that he wants to sit up properly on the table, you lower your hands and give him space by sitting on the side. Your arms poised to grab him if he wobbles.

“Jesus, what did you do to my chest?”

As he sits up, his torso feels like an elephant has been stamping on it and he notices his shirt and bulletproof vest is undone.

He looks at you, almost accusingly as he instinctively touches his torso. Once again, his hands pull away quickly, his claws snag on his skin again. Air hisses between his clenched jaws.

“What the fuck has happened to me?!”

His voice is full of anger and resentment.

Your brows crease with worry as he asks those questions, Jess and Lyla approach to investigate.

“The serum that Kingpin injected, you reacted to it,” you pause as your eyes wander from his gaze to his claws.

“I found out about an antidote which I got when I arrived here. I feared Kingpin was going to use the serum so I wanted to try and counteract it if I could.”

Taking his hands in yours, you’re surprised he doesn’t pull away as he listens.

“I don’t know if I was too late, or if this reaction is to be expected, but you went into cardiac arrest so I had to administer CPR.”

Jess walks around the table to investigate the body.

Lyla takes a closer look at Miguel. His red eyes catches her attention.

“Holy hell…” she murmurs in shock.

“What is it?”

Your fingers squeeze around his hands slightly as you prepare to tell him something else that might upset him.

“The colour of your irises have also changed…” you reply tentatively.

Despite the changes, you believe he still looks handsome. If you were certain he wasn’t going to snap and attack you, you would argue that his new differences gave a wild look about him - something even more exciting and thrilling. Not like the original needed to change at all.

“Well? What colour are they?” he pushes for an answer as his concerned eyes flit between you and Lyla.

“They’re red, Miguel,” his PA answers, sounding sympathetic.

“Red?!”

You consider that he might have been expecting another colour, perhaps a natural one.

The mafia leader looks at his hands again. His breath quickens once more.

“Gabi - she’s going to think of me as a monster.”

His concerned expression deepens as he worries over how his daughter might perceive him.

This breaks your heart. Miguel loves his daughter, and it would destroy him if she were to reject him. However, you believe that she would embrace his changes, but you can understand his worry. All you want to do is wrap your arms around him and tell him everything is going to be okay.

Before you say anything to soothe him, Jess reports that she can’t feel Kingpin’s pulse. He’s definitely dead.

There goes that cold feeling rushing through your veins. To make things worse, Miguel’s serious eyes land back on you.

“It seems I am once again in your debt.”

You shake your head, giving him a pleading look.

“No, I don’t want that.” You begin as you reach out and touch his cheek.

He flinches, but he lets you while Lyla keeps a watchful eye over the two of you.

“I don’t want you to owe me anything. I just saved your life because I care about you and Gabi. I promised her I will bring you home and that is what I’m going to do.”

Miguel begins to remember. Your voice from earlier echoes in his mind. The memory of someone cradling his head gently as he listened to an angelic voice tell him his daughter is waiting at home for him.

That moment was bliss. He felt loved and at peace. A part of him had assumed it was his wife who did and said those things.

“Y-you… you…”

His head hurts as he tries to understand. He was totally delirious before his cardiac arrest. It feels unclear what was a dream or what was reality.

Leaning in closer, you look imploringly into his fiery eyes as Lyla and Jess walk off to make some phone calls, arranging to clean up the mess in the lab. Both of your hands caress his face.

“It was me. I killed Kingpin for you, I called off his attack on your base for you. I saved your life because I care for you. I held you, caressed you, cradled you and freed you. Not because I want you to owe me.”

One of your hands slips down from his face to over his exposed, defined chest. It feels hot to the touch. The sensation of a strong heartbeat pounding against your palm always feels soothing but on this night, nothing else in the world will be better than that.

“If I’m going to be back in your life it’s because you want me there and if you’ll ever find it in that heart of yours to forgive me.”

He remembers more of the moments leading up to his cardiac arrest. A fog is starting to lift. The feeling of your gentle caresses, your sweet kisses and lovingly clearing his hair from his face.

After finding the truth out about you, he wants to still be angry but he’s struggling to muster the energy for it. Every word you speak, every second you unwaveringly stare into his eyes, every charming and heart warming caress weakens his resolve.

Without warning, he reaches out and grabs you. Wrapping his arms around your chest and waist, holding you close to him. You feel the slight prick of his claws digging into your sides.

“Ah! Careful…”

As you return his embrace, drawing his head against your chest, you feel his grip on you loosen. A tear or two run down your cheeks with relief.

“Sorry…” he mutters as his body tenses with frustration.

Is this going to be his life now? Looking like some beast with fangs and claws. Is he going to be constantly apologising for every time his new features scratch someone by accident?

“Shh…” you hush him as your fingers return to his hair, running them through his dark brown locks.

An instinct within you tells you to rock back and forth with him in your arms. The both of you sway, sitting on the table. A gentle motion that makes his eyes feel heavy for a moment, his body relaxing once more.

“We should get you back to Gabriella…” you whisper into his ear.

He shakes his head against your chest. You’re not entirely sure if he’s disagreeing or nuzzling; maybe it’s both.

“I’ll terrify the poor girl.”

“You’re her papa, Miguel. The changes might be a shock at first but I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

You nuzzle your face into his hair as he groans. A grumpy protest and a hint of disbelief in his voice.

All of a sudden, an idea strikes him and he pulls away from you.

“I want to speak to Garcia first.”

***

The journey to Miguel’s base of operations seems to take forever. He insists you join him in his limo. Now that he knows you’re aware of his true line of work he doesn’t see why you can’t come with him to the Web. Besides, it gives him a chance to talk with you, in private.

He sits opposite you in the limo. He can’t trust himself not to hurt you with his new claws and he’s not entirely sure he can completely trust you either, despite him holding you earlier.

“So, you meant what you said? You campaigned for my daughter’s security. Keeping her out of Kingpin’s reach?”

You nod silently as you keep your eyes on him the whole time.

“You really care for her?”

“Of course I do. I mean, I don’t agree any child should be used as ammunition in anything, not just mafia business. She’s an innocent child,” you pause as you think about the time spent in his kitchen baking with her. “She’s the best little girl. I care about her dearly.”

Miguel looks down at his hands. His claws still poked out at a ninety degree to his fingertips. He tuts and shakes his head in disbelief.

Reaching out in front of you, you take his hand, carefully to avoid his claws. He lets you, which makes you smile. He can’t totally mistrust you.

“I truly am sorry about me reporting on you. I hated every second of it. It ruined some beautiful moments I spent with the two of you.”

He looks like he’s about to interject or argue back, but you continue before he opens his mouth.

“You might think I’m trying to put on a sob story, but if you only knew how sick Kingpin made me feel when he told me to betray you. All I wanted was to see where our budding relationship would take us. He took that away from me.”

A solitary tear rolls down your cheek before you wipe it away. What resembled some sort of stern expression on his face softens as he listens to you. He can’t stay mad at you.

The car slows to a stop. You both have arrived at Miguel’s Web.

***

His base of operations seems like a convoluted network of corridors underground. You walk past many doors leading into rooms of which you have no clue of their purpose. You daren’t ask either.

Bullet holes litter the walls. Miguel tuts at the state of the place.

“Lyla, any casualties from Kingpin’s attack?”

“No boss. But we caught a fair few of his men, they’re locked away and ready for you to decide their fate.”

“Que maravilla.” (how wonderful)

You follow Miguel to a large secure door. He enters in a four digit code to gain access to the room behind it.

Inside is what looks like a small apartment kitted out with everything a person or two needs to live inside.

Miguel turns the light on, disturbing the two inhabitants in their bed.

“Sorry to wake you, Dr Garcia.” The mafia man enters as the doctor and his wife sit up sleepily, rubbing their eyes. “I’m afraid this couldn’t wait till morning.”

***

In Miguel’s office, Dr. Garcia, who is wrapped up in a dressing gown, inspects the mafia boss with great interest. Almost treating him like an intriguing lab specimen as he sits on the desk.

“This is incredible!” he repeats himself occasionally as he looks over the clawed hands. Garcia’s gaze lifted up to Miguel’s face. “And you have fangs too?”

He nods but notices the doctor’s expectant expression. After an indignant groan, he opens his mouth, revealing the oversized, sharply pointed canines.

“Incredible!” Julio Garcia says again.

“Well, I don’t feel incredible.”

The excited look on the doctor’s face sobers after hearing the mafia boss’s response.

“Ah… yes…”

His eyes wanders over the exhausted man, and then turns to face you.

“You say he suffered a cardiac arrest?”

You give a nod in response.

“After injecting the antidote.”

“Hmm…” Garcia hums pensively.

“I’d imagine the serum did part of what it was designed to do, which is to trigger the mutation. The antidote stopped the further effects of the serum like death.”

“But, I did die…” Miguel chips in, feeling rather odd to be saying something like that.

“Well, yes. Probably from great stress on your heart. But the death that follows the injection of the serum is more… unpleasant,” he pauses as the thought of poor Maria suffering that fate makes his blood run cold. 

“(Y/N) did a marvellous job in saving your life Mr. O’Hara. You should consider yourself a very lucky man.”

Miguel looks at you momentarily. You give him a weak smile and you notice he does the same back to you briefly.

“Can these effects be reversed?” he finally gets to say the question he’s been meaning to ask since discovering his changes.

A sympathetic shake of the head from the doctor tells him immediately the answer he didn’t want.

“I’d dare say you’re still mutating too. I would wait a full twenty four hours before assuming your reaction to the serum is complete.”

The mafia man blinks, stunned by what he has just heard.

“What?”

“I think the worst of the mutation is already done - don’t worry.”

Miguel’s brow furrows with concern.

“But-”

“Come back when the first twenty four hours are up and we can have another look at you. You definitely should get some rest. Your body has been through a lot.”

Julio Garcia is escorted back to his living quarters while Miguel stands from his desk and approaches you, his worried look remains.

“Come on. Let’s go…”

He gestures to you to join him.

“I should probably get back home. Let you adjust in peace.”

“No,” Miguel replies simply with a slightly stern tone that makes your heart stop.

A clawed hand gently wraps around your arm as he walks beside you.

“I need you.”

----------

Part 9

I'm currently open for commissions. If you have a scenario you'd like to be written about your OC and our lovely Miguel, please check out my carrd.co or get in touch via email (also on the website)

[theroseceleste]

Mafia Miguel - Part 7

You can find previous chapters below.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Contains : Female reader, mentions of being restrained, injections, suffering of pain, murder, cardiac arrest and CPR.

Word count - 4038

Hope you enjoy chapter 7!

Don't forget after this chapter I'll post up a choice so you can choose which direction it will go. Be sure to follow and check for future posts!

----------

The giant science facility resembles something like a ghost town at night. All workers and lab technicians have clocked off and gone home. Labs are dark and deserted.

Miguel has no clue what time it is, but he suspects it’s the early hours of the morning.

He’s led through the building while his hands are still tied behind his back and his mouth still gagged. Dark, glaring eyes trained on the large man in front, leading the way. He clearly has somewhere very specific in mind.

One of the large man’s employees joins the small group of men walking down a corridor towards a lift. He carries a small metal case. Miguel eyes it suspiciously.

“Your wife was a very intelligent woman,” Kingpin says as he presses a button to call the elevator.

The sound of the lift mechanics whir into action behind the double metal sliding doors.

All Miguel can do is watch, scowling at Kingpin as he waits for the elevator to arrive.

Occasionally, his wrists tugs at his restraints, testing their strength. He longed to have the gag removed from his mouth. It is uncomfortable to say the least, feeling the dry cloth between his jaws.

A ding indicates the lift has arrived and the doors slide open, allowing the group to enter.

Kingpin looks like he is revelling in this exercise of gradually riling Miguel up. He takes a breath before speaking again.

“Her knowledge about spiders was extensive. Perfect for the job really,” he pauses as his captive wriggles aggressively.

The smug looking man seems to have touched a nerve.

“Such a shame she got too righteous about the nature of the project. She should have known you can’t make an omelette without breaking a few eggs…”

A now livid Miguel struggles against his restraints once again, more violently this time as the lift climbs up the building. As he pulls, he notices that his bonds feel like they’re getting weaker.

Kingpin watches with glee as his captive is pulled away from him. The angry lion doesn’t look quite so scary, tied up and gagged. He continues taunting Miguel, pushing in the dagger further, giving it a cruel sharp twist.

“I can show you where she worked, if you like? I bet you were so proud of her, working for a major corporation like Alchemax. And a leading scientist in her field too!”

His voice is in a mocking tone which pissed Miguel off even more.

“Sadly, it all went wrong for her when she couldn’t deal with testing the serum on live subjects anymore. Her refusal to cooperate after that was most frustrating.”

Between moments of pure anger, Miguel felt distraught that Maria went through this at work and couldn’t open up about it at home.

The lift’s metal doors slide open again revealing the bio-engineering floor. Lights flicker on as someone flips the switch while Kingpin leads Miguel into the room where the experiments took place…

***

Your car grinds to a halt in front of the Alchemax building. You have parked it in a space but it is hideously wonky, but frankly, you don’t care as you have bigger fish to fry.

Alchemax security guards spot you running towards the building, preparing to intercept you. For once, you find yourself glad that you’re able to shout that you work for Kingpin as you run past and dodge their attempts to grab you.

You knew they’d allow you through if you said you work for the large mafia boss. It seems Kingpin has Alchemax in his pocket, whether they liked it or not.

You need to go to the vault, which is under Alchemax. Kingpin and anyone who works for him unfortunately has access to it. Take a lift and select the basement floor.

Garcia’s voice echoes in your mind as you remember his instructions as you burst into the foyer of the science facility and head to the nearest lift you can find that goes to the basement.

The light on the call button blinks furiously as you press it repeatedly, willing this damn lift to hurry the hell up. Time is of the essence, you can’t waste any of it.

To your surprise one of your colleagues appears on the other side of the opening sliding doors. Your eyes lock on his own as they go wide. Realising who you are, he charges at you, shunting you against a wall as you yelp in shock.

“Kingpin thought you might show up, good job I found you first eh?”

You thrash against him in frustration. Every second that passes is precious time being wasted.

Adrenaline runs at an all time high within you as your heart pounds against your ribs frantically. You have to get away from him if you want to stand any chance at rescuing Miguel.

A tight grip forms around your arm as he tries to turn you away from him.

“Come on, the exit’s this way.”

“Let me go!” you scream as you jam your knee into his groin.

Your colleague cries out in agony and lets you go. His hands rushing to his crotch as he buckles over.

“You bitch!” he screams through gritted teeth, his seething expression fixed on you.

To make sure he doesn’t retaliate or follow, you hit him hard in the head to knock him out.

A thud fills the air as he collapses on the linoleum floor unconscious. His suit jacket flops open revealing something that catches your eye. You pause as you look down at it.

A gun in its holster is out on display. You’re not really a fan of guns, but you might be entering a kill or be killed situation. It’s best to be prepared - just in case.

Reaching down, you pull it out and take it with you. It feels weird to be carrying a weapon, as if things have suddenly become much more serious.

Finally, the lift door closes with you inside it and it begins its descent into the basement. Closing your eyes, you take a breath to calm yourself as you try to remember the next load of instructions Garcia had given you.

***

Miguel half expected that someone would have shown up by now. He knew Gabi would have called somebody. What’s holding people up?

His jaw flexes uncomfortably while his gag persists. Sympathy starts to rise for those he has gagged in the past. But at least they deserved it…

A lab surrounds him, along with Kingpin’s men.

Around the perimeter of the room are counters with cupboards underneath, stored with equipment; beakers; vials, microscopes and petri dishes - just to name a few.

Visions of his wife, Maria, sitting at the counter and running experiments dances in his mind as he looks around. Tears threaten to well up in his eyes as he remembers her but he blinks them away.

Then his gaze focuses on the centre of the room. A modified metal slab-like table stands ominously. He immediately gets a bad feeling about it. Straps are fixed halfway down and at the bottom of the table.

“I had the room set up exactly how it was when I last saw Maria alive. I thought you’d appreciate that.”

Kingpin chuckles darkly as he watches Miguel’s eyes fixate on the table.

“You see, I had to have her still enough so I could teach her a lesson. A lesson I considered teaching your new lady friend but I managed to find a way to get her to comply.”

There’s that wicked grin again. If Miguel had seen it, he’d have tried to smash that smile to smithereens, but he was busy putting the pieces together instead after the large man spoke.

His chest rises and falls as his breathing quickens. His mind, swimming with thoughts while he feels the room spin. Shock, anger and grief makes his entire body shake.

“Of course, I had to make it look like she had done it herself. Couldn’t have anyone pointing the blame at me now could I?”

Miguel is at his limit. Kingpin has more or less confessed to murdering Maria. And he looks so damn smug about it too. How he would love to wipe that smile off of his face. He fantasises doing it in the most hideous way possible. A growl rumbles low in his chest as his muscles tenses up.

With one last hard pull, the captive yanks at his bonds and breaks out. Rushing towards his captor.

Kingpin’s eyes widen momentarily and retreats behind a curtain formed by his men who all grab Miguel as he charges.

Muffled shouts and screams of rage fill the air as he kicks and thrashes around.

The force of Kingpin’s men drags and lifts the incensed man up onto the table.

One by one, each limb is strapped down but not without a violent struggle.

Wildly desperate and frightened brown eyes look around frantically. Searching for any kind of escape. Any kind of help. The sense of hopelessness engulfs him. Any chance to escape diminishes by the second. 

Pulling against the straps is useless as they’re firmly attached to the table by chains, but he still tries out of sheer desperation.

“Roll up his left sleeve for me,” Kingpin orders one of his men, his tone commanding.

As someone carries out the task, the boss opens the metal case and produces a serum in a syringe equipped with a needle, all ready to go.

“Your wife was working on creating the perfect serum for me, to genetically enhance humans. But unfortunately, she was never able to make one that didn’t kill the test subject.”

Kingpin now begins his slow and taunting approach to Miguel. A broad, smug grin stamped across his face. An evil glint shines in his eyes.

“I’ll let you have a taste of her work. You can experience everything she went through in her final moments. And then you’ll be reunited with her. How sweet…”

Now standing right next to the violently thrashing man on the table, he speaks again.

“Keep him still for me. He’s just as wriggly as his wife was.” He speaks louder just so he can be heard over his captive’s angry roars.

Four pairs of hands working in unison press down on his limbs, holding him still. His chest heaves as he screams through the cloth. Eyes open wide and his brow severely furrowed as he watches the needle plunge into his lower arm and the contents of the syringe begins to empty.

Searing pain spreads through his veins. Every muscle tenses and an unpleasant tingling sensation crashes over him like a violent, freak wave on a beach. His body erupts with heat while his lungs struggle to get enough air in them through the gag.

Withdrawing the needle, Kingpin watches with glee as his captive is reacting - badly - to the serum.

Kingpin chuckles darkly, almost getting drowned out by Miguel’s agonised yells and screams.

“This, Mr. O'Hara, is only just the beginning. Sit tight.”

***

Rows upon rows of safe-like vaults are in front of you. Many corridors and alleyways of secure containment boxes to choose from.

I couldn’t store the antidote with project #2099 as I had to keep it safe. So I created my own project, #2100. Find that vault, the code is Maria’s birthday, September 28th.

Looking at signs on the walls, you see Alchemax has run thousands of experiments, too many to count. You look for a sign that indicates where the projects in the 2000’s are and follow the direction it points you in.

The sea of numbers goes down in numerical order as you stride along a corridor. Your eyes skimming over each project number until you find #2100.

September 28th… You think to yourself as you look at the number pad on the door of the box. It’s a three digit code.

Thinking quickly, you punch in 928 and a green light followed by a beep follows, indicating you entered in the correct code.

As the small vault unlocks, your eyes wander over to the containment box to the left, #2099. You sincerely hope you don’t need what’s inside #2100.

Pulling the door open, you grab a small case and run, not even taking the time to close the vault again.

Now the real hard work begins. You have absolutely no clue as to what floor Kingpin and Miguel are on. Entering the lift again, you spam the close button and press the first floor to begin the tedious task of finding the correct floor. You just hope you reach them in time.

If it wasn’t for pressing the button for each floor in the lift, you would have lost count of the number of levels you have tried in the large science facility. Your only saving grace is that every floor is pitch black and silent, suggesting no one is there.

So when you come to floor fifteen and you see lights on and hear bone chilling screams you know you’re in the right place. Your heart plummets as soon as you hear the sound.

As you rush out of the elevator, you see the bio-engineering lab is lined with windows all around it and the scene before you almost stops your heart completely.

Seeing Miguel screaming, sweating and writhing in agony on the table makes you worry you’re too late, but you can’t stop now. He’s restrained and gagged, in desperate need of help.

With the case in one hand and a gun in the other, you enter the lab. Kingpin and his goons seem preoccupied with their captive.

Lifting the weapon, your trembling finger rests on the trigger, aiming directly at Kingpin.

You steel yourself and make peace with what you have to do. If the roles were reversed, Kingpin wouldn’t think twice.

In reality, he’s killing the man you care about right in front of you, and he’d do the same to you if he knew that you’re there.

You promised Gabi you’d do everything in your power to get her papa home. Pulling that trigger is in your power. And that is what you have to do.

It’s scary how easily it can be done. Pulling that trigger wasn’t difficult physically. A shot rings out. The other four men look up as they flinch, while Kingpin crashes to the floor, dead. The force shakes the entire room.

You feel sick at the thought of what you have done but as you swallow hard, you bravely press on.

While Miguel continues to roar and thrash at his restraints, the other four men hold their hands up in surrender.

“Get the fuck out of here!” you yell at them while pointing the gun in their direction.

They didn’t need telling twice. As they scatter, you grab one roughly by their suit. Your aggressiveness surprises you.

“Call off the attack on O’Hara’s people while you’re at it.”

The man nods silently and leaves the room after you release him.

Heavy panting steals your attention.

Miguel, dripping with sweat, thrashes his head side to side as he reacts to the serum.

Prizing open the case, you seize the antidote, nicely prepared for injection already.

If the antidote needs to be administered, inject directly into the serum’s injection site.

You remember the last bit of Garcia's instructions. Rushing to the table in the centre of the lab, you urgently look for where the serum had been injected. It doesn’t take long, the skin on his left arm is a bright angry red and is hot to the touch.

You do everything you can to not cry. His pain and desperation is palpable. And the sight before you hurts you to look at. Seeing him so distressed hits you hard. You can’t bear to see him gagged. His mouth is freed as you pull at the cloth, although parts of you wish you hadn’t as his agonising screams hit you harder.

“Miguel!” You call out to him as you’re not even sure he knows you’re there.

Your hand caresses his contorted face of agony as you lean in close.

“I need you to stay still for me. I know it’s hard, but you’ve got to try. Please!”

He roars with eyes clamped shut as a fresh wave of pain rolls over him, you nearly scream when you spot two enlarged canines.

Desperately stroking his face and holding it more firmly, you try again.

“Please! You’ve got to do this for me!”

Miguel huffs as he registers a kinder touch. He grits his now razor sharp teeth as he tries to stay still long enough for you to do what you need to do.

Reaching over his shuddering body, you hold the needle above the injection site.

“I’m sorry if this hurts, Miguel…” you mutter as you press the needle into his skin.

His body immediately arches upwards beneath you, almost bucking you off of him. Another yell of pain erupts from his wide open mouth.

“I know!” you sob, tears streaming down your face “I know - please, stay still a little while longer…”

Your thumb presses down on the plunger of the syringe, pushing the life saving serum into his bloodstream. Hoping against hope that you’re not too late.

Once the syringe is totally empty, you pull it out and drop it as you return to Miguel’s top half.

As before, your hands cup his damp face, moving any hair stuck against his skin while he pants heavily.

What you would give for him to open his eyes. You wish for him to see you. To see that you came for him. To save him.

Relief washes over you as his breathing slows. The large heavy panting turns into short huffs. Tense muscles begin to relax as you continue to stroke his sweat soaked skin.

“Ga- Gabi…” he starts to mutter between his puffs as his breathing regulates.

A relieved smile spreads across your face. Snaking your arm under the back of his neck, you cradle his head gently.

“She’s at home, waiting for her papa.”

Miguel’s eyes remain closed, but he cracks a faint smile across his parted lips. You see just the tip of one of his large canine teeth peeking out. Just what did that serum do to him, you wonder as your fingers now run adoringly through his damp hair.

In that moment of peace, despite what he has just been through, you’re happy. You’re still not entirely sure if he knows who you are; but,  you’re holding him close and caressing his hair. Something you thought you’d never be able to do again.

Leaning down, you plant a loving, tender kiss on his forehead as your fingers return to his cheek. Making the most of this precious moment.

As you lean close, the cold hard chain of his wrist restraints presses against your body. You realise the poor man is still bound to the table.

Placing his head back down gently, taking care not to move him suddenly, you start to undo the straps around his wrists.

As you go to move his hand away from the strap, you feel something sharp snagging your skin.

“Ouch!”

Your hand instinctively jumps away as you look down at what stabbed you. Nothing can stop your jaw from dropping in total shock.

Protruding out from his fingertips are razor edged, bloodied claws.

Scooping up his large right hand in yours, you inspect the talons more closely. Your fingers ghost delicately over them and then run along down his long, slender, manly digits. All the while Miguel remains calm as his breathing slows even more.

The silence between you is punctuated with the sounds of the velcro on the straps ripping apart from itself as you free him. His long limbs are heavy and you’re careful not to hurt yourself with the strange sharp claws on his other hand.

Looking at the clear result of the serum injection, you wonder if this is what Kingpin wanted for the men who do his dirty work? Has he managed what no other living thing could?

As you ask yourself those questions, you start to hear that his breathing has become laboured. The blissful feeling of relief drains from you as that sound doesn’t exactly fill you with confidence.

His brow creases as if he’s feeling pain again and begins to gasp for air.

Rushing to his side, you pick up his hand and squeeze it in hope to provoke a response from him. Your gaze desperately searches his expression, pleading for him to relax again.

“Miguel?” Your voice quivers slightly as you lean over him more.

Your other hand rests on his right shoulder and you start to shake him. He’s not responding.

“Miguel?”

You shake him harder as his laboured gasps continue but he still does not respond.

Something’s wrong - very wrong.

“No, no, no, no, no…” you murmur as your hand goes up to his cheek and tap him gently. Panic sets in. This isn’t supposed to happen. Has the antidote actually worked?

His brow furrows more as his breathing becomes faster and shallower.

“No - don’t… Don’t you dare…”

More tears stream down your face as you watch his struggle, totally powerless and without a clue in how to help him.

To your absolute horror, peace falls upon him once more. But the wrong kind of peace. His brow relaxes totally and his breathing stops all together.

“No…”

Eyes frantically search for signs of life in his face, hoping that he’ll move again in a second. But without any further change you search for a pulse in his neck. Nothing.

“No!”

Dropping his hand to his side, you feel his chest for a heart beat. Nothing. He has gone into cardiac arrest.

Shit!

A loud sob fills the air from your parted lips. Without even thinking, your body takes over. Clambering up onto the table, you straddle his body as you place the heel of your hand against the centre of his chest.

You feel something hard underneath his clothes. Undoing the first couple of buttons of his shirt, reveals a bulletproof vest. Nothing can get in the way of your attempt at CPR so you continue to undo all items of clothing covering his torso.

Once again, you place the heel of your hand in the centre of his chest while pressing the palm of your other hand on top. You push down hard enough to compress by about five centimetres and repeat thirty times at a fast pace.

“You’re not dying on me…” you pant between compresses. “Not today.”

The first thirty compressions are complete. Leaning forward you gently tilt his head back and pull at his chin to part his lips. Pinching his nose with your finger and thumb, you seal your mouth over his and blow firmly, twice.

His lifeless body rocks with each compression as you start the process all over again in a desperate bid to revive him. Sobbing and panting you think about his daughter. You said to Gabi you’d get her papa back, you can’t let her down.

“Come on!” You yell as you desperately will him to take a breath, open his eyes or do something!

It feels like an age since he stopped breathing, but it’s probably just been a minute.

More tears roll down your cheek as you continue to perform CPR. Your knees ache kneeling on the cold metal table but you press on. You don’t care if you can’t feel your legs anymore, if it means you bring him back.

“Damn it Miguel!”

Panic increases again as you do another thirty compressions and prepare to give him two more rescue breaths.

Suddenly, his body moves on its own as you seal your lips over his. The unexpected movement makes you pull away and gasp as he draws a sharp intake of breath. Relief washes over you as you see him breathe for himself for the first time since he fell silent.

His eyes snap wide open as they lock onto yours immediately. However they’re not how you remember them. The beautiful warm brown they used to be, is now replaced by a deep red.

“(Y/N)?”

----------

Part 8

I hope you enjoyed the drama. Sorry if I made anyone cry! Heh heh...

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Pilot Miguel - Part 10 - An Unexpected Visitor

In this short, but fluffy chapter, you reminisce about your stay in London and snuggle with your man in his penthouse. This is until someone unexpected turns up...

Word count - 1619

Contains : A little bit of fluff and a confrontation conversation via text.

Enjoy! xx

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

If you enjoy this fic, please consider liking, commenting or re-blogging. Many thanks xx

London was great, you definitely want to go back again. There’s so much there to see and do. England itself has a lot to offer, along with Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland which make up the United Kingdom. So much history happened all around the country, and there’s too much to fit into just two days of staying over between flights.

You never enjoyed history at school. It was boring learning about it in a dull classroom. But, walking around in the streets the history took place makes it all the more interesting.

Naturally, you wanted to see Buckingham Palace. Many pictures were taken outside of the iron gates in front of the grand building.

You took romantic walks with Miguel around St James’s Park and Hyde Park and then you went shopping in the famous shop called Harrods in Knightsbridge.

The Tower of London was another point of interest. A castle with effectively a small town concealed within its fortress walls.

Connecting all of these places in the city, is the London Underground network. Locally nicknamed ‘the tube’ as the tunnels that the trains snake through on a daily basis are round, exactly like a tube.

It amazed you to learn that the tube stations were used as bomb shelters during World War II. Helping residents of London take cover from the air raids that took place at night.

During your stay, some tube lines were busier than others, particularly during the rush hours. You found yourself pushed right up against Miguel as the train was crammed full of commuters.

The weather gods had been kind to you during your visit. Typically, it rains a lot in England - that’s why it’s so green. But the English summers can be stunning when the sun does finally come out and say hello.

You’re back in Nueva York now, sitting in Miguel’s penthouse, curled up on the sofa with him. His big arms wrap around you as you both flick through the pictures on your phone. The latest cute couple picture is the one of you both standing in a pod on the London Eye. The sights of the historically-rich city below you with your loved up, slightly jet lagged faces being the main focus.

Every now and then you feel kisses on the back of your head as he holds you close. His nose pressed against your recently washed hair, taking in the scent of your favourite shampoo.

This is the first time you’ve visited his apartment, and you can see why he didn’t bat an eyelid when booking your stay in Versailles. You’re certain he’s paid exceedingly well, but that doesn’t matter to you.

Everything in his apartment is expensive, or the latest model or whatever. You’re not interested in what his smart screen, 4K, ultra HD, thingy-ma-whatsit TV does. So long as you can snuggle with your man and watch a film on it, you don’t care.

It’s evening and you’ve not long had dinner together. He cooked and it was surprisingly scrumptious.

“I never had you down as skilled in the culinary arts,” you say to him as he nuzzles against your neck.

“I had to help my mother around the house, which meant doing stuff in the kitchen.”

You ponder for a moment as you think about the delicious food that’s now in your stomach.

“Your mother must be a good cook if you learned from her.”

“Yes, she certainly knows how to throw together a few things and prepare a tasty meal.”

He shifts uncomfortably in the seat, like he doesn't like where the conversation is going.

“You like the penthouse?” Miguel finally asks after deciding to change the subject.

“You have a beautiful home, very techy too, no surprise there…”

He chuckles at your comment before leaning in closer slightly.

“I’d love it if you—“ his whisper in your ear gets interrupted by a knock on his front door.

“That should be a delivery I’m expecting, could you grab it? I need the bathroom real quick.”

You both get up from the couch, you watch him stride off to his en-suite in his grey sweatpants and black t-shirt - for some reason, he looks incredibly sexy in that outfit.

There’s another knock at the door, reminding you to open it before Miguel misses his delivery.

The door creaks as you open it to reveal a woman, not dressed as a delivery driver. She has mid-length black hair and blue eyes. She seems surprised to see you.

“Oh…”

Her shock intrigues you.

“Can I help you?” you ask her.

“Oh, no - it’s okay, I didn’t know Miguel was… um… entertaining…”

She begins to turn away, but you open your mouth to speak again.

“Who shall I say came to the door? I can ask him to get back to you.”

The woman considers your offer for a moment.

“That would be great, thank you. Tell him Xina tried to visit, but will try some other time.”

You nod and smile.

“Sure.”

“Thanks,” Xina replies and hangs her handbag over her shoulder before turning around to walk back to the elevator.

After closing the door, you return to the couch and begin to wonder why a woman would be calling around Miguel’s so late in the day.

Miguel returns from the ensuite and joins you on the sofa again.

“Where did you put the package?” he asks, looking around for a box.

“It wasn’t a delivery,” you reply.

He looks back at you and raises an eyebrow.

“Who was it?”

“Someone named Xina? She said she’d try again some other time.”

Miguel’s smile drops the instant he hears Xina's name. What could she possibly want with him? A sinking feeling in his stomach means he suspects that whatever it is she wants, it’s not going to be good news.

“Mhmm… thanks.”

He lays you down with him on the couch and puts a film on for the both of you to watch. An uncomfortable thump in his chest pounds against his ribs as his mind wanders over what Xina wants. He kisses your head as he pulls his phone out while the movie starts. Calling up Xina’s contact on his screen, he begins to type a message to his ex-wife.

“What do you want?”

It doesn’t take long for Xina to reply. He suspects she’s sitting in her car outside the apartment block.

“You’ve moved on quickly…”

Miguel’s lips press into a thin line as his heart thumps harder in his chest.

“What’s it to you?” he replies, trying to not jab at the screen with frustration and jog you too much.

His message is left on read for a moment, like Xina is thinking about what to say next. A nauseous feeling develops when he sees that she eventually starts typing again.

“I feel like perhaps I was too hasty in wanting a divorce.”

Another text comes in shortly after.

“I miss you. And I miss what we had, the good times we did share together.”

The urge to launch the phone across the living room is almost too tempting. She wants to come back into his life after pushing and fighting for a divorce? He didn’t think he’d get a shot at happiness again, especially so soon after the end of his marriage. Now that he has you, he’s not giving what he has up for someone who can’t make up their mind and seems to think they’re at liberty to mess people around. As far as he’s concerned, Xina can find her happiness elsewhere, because he gave up fighting for her when he was pushed to sign the papers.

He types out another reply.

“You made your bed, now you go lie in it.”

Xina starts to type back almost instantly.

“Are things serious between you two?”

Miguel does everything he can to not growl with annoyance. To make himself better, he snuggles into you more and kisses the back of your head again, sniffing your scent.

Taking in a deep breath to calm himself, he starts to type again.

“None of your business.”

His response is left on read once more for a moment, he can feel her frustration through the screen with her lack of a reply. She’s probably resting her head against the steering wheel of her car, seething - good.

Spending time with you, making plans with you, dating you, he feels has done him the world of good. Some might say he moved on too quickly, that he was on the rebound, but you were too good of a person to let pass by.

He has defence walls for a reason, and you are one of the select few who sees who he really is. You are his and he is yours. You bring out such happiness in him. He doesn’t want to lose you and he’ll do anything in his power to make sure that doesn’t happen.

He finds himself surprised that Xina doesn’t reply, but he suspects that this is not the last he’ll hear from her.

A gentle snore suggests you have fallen asleep. He smiles as he tenderly nuzzles into you again. His hand strokes your hair before he subtly turns you on your back so he can see his perfect chiquita sleeping. You look so peaceful. It’d be rude to wake you and he wants this moment to last a little while longer. Strong arms wrap around you after he tosses his phone onto another sofa and he settles down, hoping his pounding heart will relax soon. Listening to your deep breaths is already having a calming effect on him. You’re so much better for him than Xina ever was.

I hope you enjoyed Part 9!

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Pilot Miguel - Part 8 - Living Like Kings and Queens

It's your first full day in Paris. How will it compare to the day before?

Word count - 3776

Minors DNI

Contains : Theft and confrontation. Smut : Penetrative sex.

Enjoy xx

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

If you enjoy this fic, please consider liking, commenting or re-blogging. Many thanks xx

It’s your first full day in Paris. Considering being six hours ahead, you have had a good sleep during the night, although you think you have Miguel to thank for that. Ten orgasms. Ten mind blowing, core pulsing, toe curling orgasms you experienced yesterday. Just the thought of it makes you dizzy.

Miguel’s presence has been a constant throughout the night. Occasionally, you found yourself waking up to him planting a kiss either on your head, neck or shoulder, before nuzzling into you and falling asleep again. His soft snores, strangely acting as your lullaby and you drop off soon after.

Later on, the sound of a zip summons you from your sleepy state. Your eyes open when you don’t feel him there anymore.

“Miguel?”

You suddenly blurt out as you sit up. The room spins slightly as you move so quickly after waking. While you recover from the brief dizzy spell, Miguel rushes to the bed and sits next to you putting his arm around you, holding you close. You notice that he’s dressed.

“You’re going?” you ask, as you gaze up at him sounding disappointed and feeling worried that you may have done something wrong.

“No, we both are…” he replies as he smiles down at you.

A look of confusion spreads across your face.

“What?”

He leans in closer, cupping his hand under your chin.

“I’m taking you shopping and then we’re checking in somewhere else.”

“We’re - not seeing the Eiffel Tower?” you ask, as hope glistens in your eyes; you can’t fly all the way to Paris and not see the famous structure.

A soft kiss is planted on your forehead.

“Sure, you can see it, but we’re not going up it.”

“Why not?”

He brushes some of your hair away from your face as he whispers to you.

“How do you feel about living like Marie Antoinette for a couple of days?”

A sudden gasp fills the air as your jaw drops.

“We’re going to the palace of Versailles?”

“We’re staying in the Château de Versailles.”

This is incredible! He has booked the both of you to stay for two nights near where King Louis XVI and his Queen, Marie Antoinette lived in the eighteenth century - before they were imprisoned and beheaded, but you don’t linger on that thought for too long.

You throw your arms around your Captain and pull him on top of you.

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” you squeal excitedly as you smother his handsome face with kisses.

He chuckles as he feels you shower him with appreciation. An addictive feeling indeed.

“De nada. I want you to live like a queen, surrounded by luxury, fine food,” he pauses as he leans closer, “and feel ultimate, blissful pleasure given to you by me…”

His lips press against yours in a searing kiss, quieting your exclamations of gratitude into muffled mewls. Before you melt into a mushy puddle, he pulls away and caresses your face.

“Your palace awaits, my Queen.”

“But what about the rest of the crew?” you ask as you rise up from the bed, legs still slightly wobbly.

“They’re all sleeping off their heavy night of drinking and partying hard. We’re fine. They won’t even notice we’re gone.”

“They’ll notice you’re missing,” you comment, sounding a little more threatened than you intended as you pick up your case and put it on the bed to find some clothes to wear.

“Oh?” he asks, sounding amused, “is chiquita jealous?”

Your heart pounds as you pick out a pair of underwear. Black lace today.

“Not jealous…” you pause as you consider your answer.

“Perhaps I just don’t like other girls trying their luck with you - making you uncomfortable,” you reply, trying not to sound possessive.

You’ve got this man’s attention by being yourself and genuine. Granted, your colleagues don’t know this, but it still irks you when you see them batting their eyelashes at him. You guess the silver lining here is that he genuinely looks disinterested and unamused when he’s swarmed by the cabin crew ladies. But some seem to struggle getting the hint.

From behind, large, warm arms wrap around you in a comforting bear hug as his plump lips press against your neck.

“And tonight, we’ll be away from all of that bullshit. You don’t have to watch your colleagues fruitlessly try to get my attention and I can continue having you all to myself…”

His voice vibrates into your neck as he talks while his hands travel down and help pull your lacy underwater up your legs. Long, firm fingers squeeze your cheeks, admiring the enticing lace beneath his touch.

“Come on you, get dressed before I feel tempted to rail you against the bed again.”

A slight spank slapping across your rear makes you jolt and squeak, followed shortly by a giggle.

After having breakfast in a nearby cafe and checking your bags in a temporary luggage storage place in the metro, the pair of you head to a popular commercial street in the city for a spot of shopping. To your surprise, the Eiffel Tower is also nearby, which Miguel promises you’ll see up close.

“Why are we going shopping?” you ask as you walk by his side in a bustling street lined with cafes, and luxury shops.

Knowing that the both of you are far away from your hotel and hidden from your colleagues, Miguel feels he can walk with you, looping his arm around yours. Your heart flutters as you feel him keep you close.

“Because, if we’re staying in the Château de Versailles, we should probably look the part. T-shirts and jeans aren’t going to cut it.”

You look down at your current clothing - he has a point. Pieces of a puzzle start to slot together in your mind. You begin to wonder just how much this is going to cost.

“Miguel, how much does two nights at Versailles for two people cost?”

He just smiles at you and taps the side of his nose with his finger, gesturing that it’s a secret.

You frown at him.

“Miguel…”

You sound a little stern, but not in a rude way. The fact that he won’t tell you how much, gives you the impression it’s a ridiculous amount of money. Although spoiling you is very sweet, you worry that he thinks he has to do this to keep you happy.

“Relax chiquita, I’ve got this.”

He feels you squeeze your arm around his briefly and he looks down at you again.

“Alright, but no more stunts like this every time we go somewhere together, okay?” you ask, as you would just happily enjoy being hidden away in a hotel room or simply sightseeing with him.

Miguel sighs as he brings you to an expensive shop.

“Can we seal the deal after this trip?” he asks, looking up at the lettering of Chanel above the doors with a smile.

The two large back-to-back C’s of the brand’s logo reflect in your eyes as your jaw drops. The closest you get to buying anything Chanel is some of their perfume collection, but even then, that stuff is pricey.

“Come on…” he chuckles as he pulls you inside.

Everything looks expensive. Probably because everything is expensive. You dread touching any of the clothing in fear of snagging a thread or getting it dirty somehow. As for looking at the price tags - if there even are any - you’d imagine you might pass out at the sight of triple digits staring back at you.

“Miguel, this is too much… I’m sure we can find something cheaper and still…”

“No, chiquita. Marie Antoinette didn’t settle for anything less than the best, and neither shall you.”

You turn to face him, pressing your hands against his shirt and chest.

“Baby, I’m not Marie Antoinette. I’m just, me, who’s simply happy being here, in this moment, with you.”

He smiles down at you with the understanding that perhaps spending this much money on you is making you uncomfortable.

“Mi bonita, escúchame, por favor…” (my pretty, listen to me, please) he whispers to you as he places his hands on your shoulders.

“I can afford this and it’s not going to bankrupt me. But I promise, I won’t do this every trip, bueno?” (Okay?)

You relax slightly. Casting your mind back, you think about the type of car he drives. Being a pilot is typically a well paid job, so you suppose he lives comfortably at least, probably more so than you. Miguel is a smart man, you’re sure of it. He won’t do silly things like this without being able to afford it, or having to sacrifice something in order to pay for it. A sigh comes out in a heavy breath as you relent.

“Bueno…” (Okay…) you reply after thinking about it and he gives you a kiss on your forehead.

“That’s mi chiquita…” (That’s my little one) he pats you on the shoulder before brushing some hair from your face.

A long sleeved dress catches your eye. Horizontal black and white stripes with a red band encircling the waist. The hem of the dress goes as far as below the knee. It’s modest, but pretty. Miguel approves too. In honesty, he prefers to see you in modest clothing, leaving what lies underneath for his eyes only. Speaking of underneath, the next stop for you in his planned shopping trip is to visit Victoria’s Secret. For those occasions where only he will be seeing you, preferably on his bed…

You’re practically blushing when Miguel leads you into Victoria’s Secret. Holding your hand, he pulls you gently around the shop, looking at all the lingerie, matching bra and knicker sets, babydolls and bodysuits.

He turns back to look at you with a small smirk, thinking your blush is cute. The main place you usually get your underwear from is the clothing section in your local hypermarket store, not in a shop dedicated purely to sexy underwear. So much lace, silk and PVC, you don’t know where to look.

If shopping alone, you’d be fine, but it seems so much weirder walking in with a partner, especially as someone so new to you as Miguel.

A tug on your hand brings you closer to him, allowing him to whisper in your ear.

“You chose your dress, I choose something from here, sound good?” he asks almost in a seductive tone.

That’s a slight relief for you, plus, you also get to find out what he likes so you can surprise him in future when you buy something privately. A pretty, white pleated babydoll dress with a black bow situated under the bust dangles elegantly from the hanger. He picks it up and holds it against your body, squinting, imagining it on you. Perfect. You notice he doesn’t hang about when it comes to making decisions, which is another relief for you because you can leave the shop quickly.

As he pays for the lingerie, he’s inspired with a couple of other ideas. Something else he can surprise you with another time perhaps…

“Fancy something to eat?” Miguel asks, after leaving Victoria’s Secret with you, a fancy bag in tow full of Miguel’s purchase and secretive pink tissue paper to hide what’s inside.

You nod in response before he begins to look for a nice café.

“My treat,” you add quickly, which makes him chuckle but he obliges.

As the pair of you walk down the busy street, you pull out your phone to check the time.

“What time should we arrive at the Versailles?”

“Check-in is at three this afternoon,” Miguel answers as he spots a sweet looking café across the street.

He pulls you to the edge of the pavement, the road before you is jammed with traffic. Taxis pull in and out of spaces either side of the street, dropping off and picking up shoppers, disrupting the flow of vehicles.

The pavements are busy too. Full of walking tourists and city residents. You have lost count of the number of times someone has bumped into you. But you’re used to this after living in Nueva York.

Suddenly, an unknown hand comes out of nowhere and wrenches your phone out of your grip. You gasp as your fingers now clench around nothing.

An opportunistic thief makes off with your cell phone, weaving in haste between groups of people.

Your gasp immediately tells Miguel that something is wrong. He spots the culprit and lets go of you.

“Stay here.”

He bolts after the thief, not quite so subtle as to slip between clusters of pedestrians. Instead he disperses people as he charges through, making them scatter or risk getting ploughed out of the way.

Your heart is in your mouth as you watch after Miguel hunt down the thief like a wolf after his prey.

With long, powerful strides, Miguel closes in on the pickpocket. He grapples on to the man’s jacket and drags him screaming into an alley between shops and slams him against a wall.

“Hand it over. Now!” Miguel snarls, the skin on and around his nose wrinkling with anger.

The thief doesn’t speak a word of English, but it doesn’t take a genius to understand what Miguel wants. His shaking hand fumbles into his pocket and draws out your phone.

“Je suis désolé!” (I’m sorry!) he splutters and thrusts the phone towards Miguel, who snatches it within an instant while keeping hold of the thief.

“Merci…” (Thank you) he grumbles as he checks the phone over, making sure it is definitely yours.

He presses the power button to wake it up, the lock screen displaying a picture of you and a close friend, he presumes. Satisfied that the phone is okay, Miguel releases the thief and gestures for him to get out of his sight. He doesn’t need telling twice and practically trips over himself scarpering out of the alley.

You look up worriedly as you hear footsteps finally approach you and feel relieved to see that it’s Miguel.

“I’ve got it back. But I’ll keep it on me unless you need it. I don’t want you being targeted again.”

You could kiss him - then yell at him, but kiss him again. Something terrible could have happened to him just because of a damn phone.

“Thank you,” you mutter in awe at your man.

“De nada, chiquita,” he replies as he puts his arm around your shoulder and escorts you across the road to the café.

It seems Miguel has a good eye for spotting the nicest places to eat. It’s like he can sniff out good quality. The food is delicious, yet inexpensive.

Before entering the underground world of the metro, he takes you to the Eiffel Tower. As you approach it, the more the wrought-iron structure dominates your surroundings.

You stare up at it in amazement, your eyes wandering over the lattice design, imagined and brought to life by an incredible engineer, Gustave Eiffel.

A gentle nudge against your arm steals your attention.

“Did you know, the Eiffel Tower is nicknamed ‘la dame de fer’?” Miguel asks as he researches the tower on his phone.

“Are you pretending to be my tour guide?” you ask, chuckling slightly.

“What does the nickname mean?” you add with growing curiosity.

“It means… ‘the iron lady’,” he pauses as he continues to scroll

“Said to mark the centenary of the French Revolution.”

Your eyes traverse down to the ground where the impressive structure’s stands splay outwards. An ever growing queue of tourists snake away from the Eiffel Tower, making your jaw drop.

“Holy shit, that’s a long queue.”

Miguel puts his phone back in his pocket, sitting nicely with yours.

“See why we’re not going up it?” he asks, as a little grin grows across his lips.

You nod silently as he leans in closer to whisper in your ear.

“I want to get us on that train, and go to Versailles.”

His eyes gleam with hunger and excitement as he stares down at you warmly. The brown of his eyes never fails to make you melt.

Before you leave the popular tourist hotspot, you pull him closer, tilting your head back just so you can see him.

“Can I have my phone please?”

“Sí…” he replies softly as he withdraws your phone from his pocket and hands it to you.

You catch him by surprise by pulling at his shirt, lowering him to your level. He feels your lips suddenly press against his cheek as you take a snap. He blinks wildly before he realises what you have done.

“Did you just…”

“Yep.”

He takes your phone from you to look at the picture. You have positioned it perfectly. It’s a picture of you giving him a sweet, tender kiss in front of the Eiffel Tower. A smile grows across his lips as he presses his fingers against the image, zooming in to look at it in greater detail.

“Can you send that to me?” he asks, “I love it.”

Butterflies erupt in a fluttering explosion within you. Your first picture together and he loves it. For a brief moment you thought he was mad at you for taking a snap of him.

“Of course I can send it to you.”

He locks the screen and stuffs your phone back in his pocket, to keep it safe.

“Come on, let’s get our luggage, change and head to Versailles.”

The moment you clap eyes on the Château de Versailles, you fall in love. A building separate from the palace but still within the grounds, used as an expensive hotel, allowing guests to experience what a day in the life of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette was like. Inside and out is the purest display of opulence and luxury you’ve ever seen.

There are expansive gardens filled with swirling strips of manicured green grass. The sound of running water from magnificent fountains dotted around the grounds compliment the birds tweeting and chirping nearby.

Your room is spacious with a combination of creamy white and floral walls. The sunlight illuminates your private space through floor to ceiling windows. A golden, electric candelabra hangs over your large bed, tastefully simulating the eighteenth century feel but with modern technology.

Cream-white is the main theme for the hotel, however the furniture adorns each room with complimenting colours.

Dinner is indeed fit for a King and Queen of France and you are treated like royalty the moment you arrive in the restaurant. Miguel looks handsome in a smart suit and he cannot keep his eyes off of you as you both eat the mouth-watering food before you.

After sun-down, Miguel escorts you back to your room and waits for you to change in the bathroom as he closes the floral curtains. Lights dimmed low, setting the mood.

The bathroom door unlocks and you step out in your stunning black and white baby doll piece. The pleated material flows gracefully around your hips as you walk towards the Captain, staring in total awe at you. Tonight, you’re his goddess and he’ll treat you reverently.

His arms wrap around you as if you’re the last woman on earth, protecting you from other men who may want you. His kisses are tender and sweet, travelling from your lips to your jaw, down your neck and onto your shoulder. You feel his hair tickle your skin as he tantalisingly traces his lips against your neck once more.

“You are heavenly…” he mumbles into your ear, his warm breath fanning across your cheek.

“No words in any language can describe how you look right now.”

You notice he isn't doing his usual thing of defaulting to Spanish when he gets romantic or aroused. It feels strange, but good, to hear him say sweet things to you in English; although you do adore him when he speaks Spanish to you too. Maybe it’s the place you’re in, maybe it’s what you’re wearing, or maybe it’s something going on in his mind, but you don’t say anything. You want to embrace what he wants to give you, no matter how he does it.

He lifts you onto the bed, watching you lay there as he undresses, leaving his clothing strewn across the floor. Who has time to put clothes away when a beautiful specimen like you is waiting for him on the bed, looking like you do. He wants you. He wants to feel you, smell you, kiss you, taste you and most importantly pleasure you by making love to you, getting lost in you, losing himself in you.

His impressive frame and heat bears down on you as he traps you underneath him. Using his knee, he nudges your legs apart and lays his naked form upon you. He becomes one with you, coupling with you, filling you, carefully, delicately and tenderly.

No biting tonight; only tenderness. Your soft moans, gasps and mewls of pleasure is all that he wants to hear. It’s emotional, you dare say. He’s quiet; only muttering sweet nothings to you occasionally, praising you as you take him all the way, deep into your core. You are blessing him with access to your body, and for that he’ll be forever thankful.

His hips deliciously grind against yours, in a slow and steady rhythm that takes your breath away. Your fingers dig into his back as he speeds up but remains tender and soft. Miguel presses his lips against yours, his tongue gains entry as you moan into his mouth. The pleasant sounds from you mixes with his quiet grunts and the bed creaking with every thrust.

The heat builds up between you as your climaxes draw nearer. He whispers to you, pleading for you to cum for him. Your beautiful babydoll outfit that he refused to take off of you earlier is becoming too overwhelming and he’s dangerously close to climaxing before you.

His desperation for you to come undone for him makes you do just that. He feels you writhe beneath him, arching your back as he continues his thrusts. Your moans and cries of pleasure makes him crumble, collapsing in a heap above you. His hips firmly nestled between your legs as he releases into you, painting your insides white.

After the rush of the climax ebbs away and the afterglow dies down, he cleans you up gently and gets you into bed. He still requests you wear your sexy outfit as you sleep. With his secure arms wrapped around you, you drift off, dreaming of that sweet kiss at the foot of the Eiffel Tower.

I hope you enjoyed Part 8!

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Pilot Miguel - Part 5 - Feral

You're back home in Nueva York. You have plenty of catching up to do with your roommate. And perhaps you'll have an interesting text conversation with your favourite pilot...

Word Count - 3123

Minors DNI

Contains : Smut (phone sex - masturbation)

Enjoy! xx

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

If you enjoy this fic, please consider liking, commenting or re-blogging. Many thanks xx

Keys jangle as you pull them out of your pocket and begin to unlock your apartment door. It creaks open as you hear your roommate pottering about in your shared kitchen. Most of your apartment is open plan. The lounge area to the left, kitchen and dining room to the right. At the furthest end of the lounge area are two doors leading to your room and then your roommate’s.

“Oh! You’re back! Welcome home (Y/N),” your roommate, Ashley, calls out as she cooks dinner.

“Hi,” you sigh as you dump everything by the front door and flop down on the sofa.

It has been a tiring day. You contemplate going straight to bed once you’ve said a proper hello to your roommate and best buddy.

Ashley eventually finishes cooking and serves dinner. She places your plate on the coffee table next to the couch.

“So, how was Mexico?” she asks before taking a mouthful.

“A-ma-zing…” you reply dreamily, your eyes half closed.

“Oh? What was so good about the trip?”

“Oh, Ashley… I’ve met someone…”

Your heart thuds just thinking about him. And now you’re admitting your feelings to your friend and yourself for the first time, you feel excited about what this all means.

Your friend’s eyes widen at your surprise announcement. She had expected you to say something good about the place you went to.

“From Mexico?!”

Ashley is in shock. She never had you down for a long distance relationship kind of person.

“Yes - well, no - kind of?”

“Girl, do they, or do they not live in Mexico?”

“He doesn’t, but he’s half-Mexican. And my God, Ashley, you’d be feeling the same as me if you saw him.”

“Where does he live then?”

You shrug, you never actually asked. You presume in Nueva York or somewhere in the surrounding areas.

“What does he do?”

“He’s a pilot. New to AracnAir.”

“Did you two… you know…?”

You shake your head as you continue to lay flaked out on the sofa.

“Got any pics of him?”

Your eyes snap open as you think about that video. You can’t possibly show her it. Can you? No… you wouldn’t. But, what you do decide to do however, is play the video back with it muted and pause it when the camera is aimed at his face.

Ashley whistles after swallowing another mouthful of her food. You are right, he is gorgeous and she can see why you’re mad about him.

“What’s he doing in the video?” she tilts her head with curiosity.

You pull the phone back to your chest as you sit up properly, protecting it from her prying eyes.

“We might not have done anything… but he kind of did out of desperation and sent me the…” you pause as you try to find a way of saying it. “Evidence?”

“Show. Me.” Her eyes widen with need.

She wants to see what she’s missing out on if you two do get together. She wants to see just how lucky you are.

“No, I can’t, Ash… if you had a boyfriend and he had a video of you, would you like him showing it to his friends?”

You suddenly feel very protective over Miguel. That man has got you good.

Ashley’s expression falls, you have a valid point and she feels bad for suggesting it. With curiosity still running at an all time high, she tries a different method of finding out.

“Roughly, how big is he?”

“You mean his height or…”

She clearly means the size of his manhood, but your question makes her wonder if there’s something else special about him.

“Both,” she answers, both of your meals now totally forgotten about.

“I don’t know the exact measurements of either but…” you look around the room to see if you can compare his height to something.

“He’ll be just taller than our doors.”

“Over two metres tall?” she exclaims.

“That’s, what…” she stops as she works out the conversion, “nearly seven feet!”

“Holy shit, girl… and what about the… his… um…”

You hold your phone close to yourself and watch the video back, even though you’ve seen it enough times to memorise every frame. Pausing it at the crucial moment, you take a look and then lock your phone. Holding both of your index fingers apart from each other, you guess a rough idea of ten inches.

Ashley looks as though she could faint out of shock and jealousy, not in a bad sense of envy - she just thinks you’re a lucky girl. But she hopes he treats you right. Doesn’t matter how pretty he is, she’d hunt him down and whoop his sorry ass if he ever hurts you.

“When are you seeing him again?”

You sigh longingly. That’s just it, you don’t know.

“I will have to check the rota.”

“And what’s his name?”

You can say his name as much as you like here and he wouldn’t be any the wiser. A smile grows across your lips.

“Miguel…”

It sounds good coming from your lips. You imagine him losing his mind over hearing you whisper, cry out or scream his name.

Ashley moans. He sounds hot and looks hot. She fully supports your attraction to him and hopes you can make it official with him one day.

“I think this goes without saying, but, be careful. He sounds stunning, and if he’s a nice guy, then he’s perfect. But… you have only just met him.”

You appreciate your friend’s concern. She’s doing her duty of looking out for you. Being the little voice of reason when you’re close to losing yourself to desire and need.

“I know, I have been careful. He’s been going through a rough time recently.”

Ashley’s eyebrow raises.

“Has he now?” she asks in a disbelieving manner, expecting it to be some kind of sob story to make you feel sorry for him.

“He’s just recently got divorced.”

Alarm bells ring in Ashley’s head.

“Oh, do you know why?”

You give a nod but you don’t exactly want to go through explaining it to her yet. You’re tired and want to sleep soon.

“The marriage just broke down because of his work hours…” you answer in a slightly dismissive manner.

Ashley can see that you’re tired. She knows you have a reasonable and sensible head screwed on most of the time.

“Alright, eat up and we can talk more about Miguel tomorrow.” She emphasises his name like a parent who teases their teenager over their school crush.

“Thanks for dinner Ash…” you mumble and pick up the plate to start eating.

After finishing dinner, you slowly rise from your couch and drag your case into your plush and comfortable room. That’s one thing you can look forward to when coming home, even from paradise itself, your own bed. The only thing that would make it even more inviting, is seeing Miguel lying there, waiting for you.

Miguel’s thoughts were on you whenever he had time to think for himself during his flight. Of course, his job comes first when he’s actually working, but during some moments as the plane flies on autopilot his mind finds its way to you.

He’s now home, in his penthouse apartment, surrounded by boxes… His ex-wife’s boxes… The dream-like memories of Acapulco slipping away quickly as reality sets in.

His ex-wife should have been gone yesterday. He follows the sound of another box being taped up in the spare bedroom.

Leaning against the doorframe and folding his arms, he watches her put the packaging tape dispenser down.

“I know… I shouldn’t be here. Turns out I had more stuff than I realised.”

She rests her hands on her hips, looking her ex-husband up and down still wearing his pilot uniform. She used to love him wearing it, but now, she feels nothing.

“How was work?”

“As if you care, Xina,” Miguel snaps impatiently.

He hoped that he’d be alone when he came home, alone to begin his new life. But she’s still here and he’s pissed.

“When’s the removal van coming?”

His ex sighs as she looks at her watch.

“In an hour? Maybe?”

“Good. I’ll be in my room, staying out of the way.”

He turns and leaves the spare room, weaving in and out of boxes until he reaches his luxury bedroom. More of her damned boxes are in there too. He kicks them out, sliding along his wooden floor before shutting himself in his room.

His flight back was fine - would have been better if you were there - but he survived. His co-pilot was a woman named Lyla. She’s smart, but also has a smart mouth. It seems she enjoys teasing him, winding him up, a bit like how you do it. But, despite his protests, he actually likes it when you tease him. In truth, he likes anything you do, even if he doesn’t say it to your face.

Removing his uniform, he tosses it in the laundry pile and then sinks down onto his bed with a tired sigh. He wonders if you’re home yet and if you’re tired just like he is.

Fingers itch intensely to grab his phone and message you but he doesn’t want to bombard you as you step through your door or settle down. Or maybe you are hoping to hear from him?

You get into bed, the mattress feels just right for your tired and weary body. For a while now, you have considered getting a pedometer to see how many steps you do when you work, just out of interest and perhaps bragging rights over your friends who have desk jobs.

Once again, you’re watching that video and listening to those voice notes. You’ll never be sick of them, and every word, every syllable sends a series of pulses emanating from your increasingly needy core. You have often wondered what ten inches, his ten inches, would feel like inside of you. You have never experienced a man his size before, none of your toys will compare either. He will truly be spoiling you, with every thrust, every pump and grind.

Teeth bite down on your bottom lip as you suppress a needy moan just thinking about how he’ll feel and how he’ll sound.

Suddenly your phone buzzes and his name pops up with an incoming message. Your heart leaps out of your mouth. Tapping the notification immediately, you open up the message to read it.

“Hola, chiquita.” (Hello, little one)

You make a mental note to learn a few phrases in Spanish, but this isn’t too hard to understand.

With a blushing expression you reply, tapping away on your phone’s screen.

“Hola, Miguel xx”

He smiles when your response appears on his end. The only time you’ve called him by his name is through text, you’re being a tease and he sure as hell knows it. If only you knew the things he’s been planning for when things heat up. He simply cannot wait to see you again.

“How was your flight?” he types back to you in hope to keep you talking.

The phone buzzes in your hand once again, you smile, despite how tired you’re feeling. To hell with sleep. The man of your dreams wants to talk to you, and you’ll do it all night if necessary.

“It was alright, slow, but good.”

The speech bubble appears with the three dots. He’s replying again. You have forgotten what this excitement feels like when talking with a crush or whatever you consider Miguel to be. It’s very much like being a teenager again, those butterflies in your stomach when the cute boy looks your way. However, this cute boy, you know for sure likes you which only excites those butterflies further.

“Bet your flight would have been more than good if I was flying it…”

Your whole body squirms as you read his reply. What is he suggesting? He can’t possibly be… no… could he? Or are you reading too much into this? Maybe he is suggesting that his presence alone would have improved your trip today. Yeah, maybe that’s it…

Thumbs tap away again as you type your reply.

“Watch your head next time you step onto a plane…”

A wicked grin flashes across your face, you can’t resist winding him up. But once again, he wipes that smile off of your face as he swoops in to try and get the last laugh. Your phone buzzes in a constant rhythm as a capital MO shows up on your screen. He’s actually calling you. You click on the green button but you’re practically speechless with nerves.

“Are you suggesting I have a big ego chiquita?”

There’s that slight danger in his voice, the same danger you detected after you spanked his ass with the paddle yesterday. Your curiosity is piqued, you want to know what happens if you push his buttons.

Finally you find your voice.

“Maybe I am, Mig-”

“Don’t!”

You grin. The battle for the last laugh has begun.

“Why not? Why don’t you want me to call you Mi-”

“Stop!”

“Tell me why then?”

You hear Miguel take a deep shaky breath.

“Because I’m not near you.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“I will not be able to control myself when my name leaves your lips. I will go feral, and if you do that to me now, then you are cruel, chiquita.”

His words hit you hard. Firstly, ‘feral’… you swear a wave of arousal is threatening to make its presence known between your legs. His ten inches flash up in your mind and you nearly moan. Then the word ‘cruel’ leaves his lips and you immediately want to hold him close. You’re not entirely sure, though, if he is deliberately acting that way to get what he wants, or to sway you in any way.

“Feral?” you ask, although you have a feeling that is a dangerous question.

He moans into the phone’s microphone, making your eyelids flutter, the hair on the back of your neck standing on end, your shoulders tense and a shiver runs down your spine, feeding those pulses within you.

“Chica, I’ll want to ruin your perfect hair you have done up for work, ruin your immaculate makeup, leave bite marks all over you. I’ll have you repeating my name, like it’s a prayer on those pretty lips which I’ll bite and suck as I invade your body with my fingers, or my large fucking cock, throbbing only for you.”

His voice is a low, dangerous growl and his proclamation renders you speechless and exceedingly wet.

“Oh God…” you finally splutter out after your throat goes incredibly dry momentarily.

“Sí, ay Dios… you might be needing him after, chiquita…”

The line goes silent, but remains open. He lets his words sink in for you, giving you a moment to recover.

“Are you going to hold back saying my name now until we see each other?” he asks.

Although you can’t see him, you can hear his smug expression on his face. He has won the last laugh again.

“Just make sure you don’t say it while I’m working…”

You swallow hard as your hand slowly makes its way down your front and sneaks under the waistband of your shorts. He hears your breath falter.

“Are you doing what I think you’re doing, chiquita?”

How the fuck does he know? You ask yourself.

“Mhmm…” Is all you can respond with as your fingers begin to circle around your clit, collecting your arousal as you go.

“Naughty…” he replies as you hear rummaging at his end of the line.

“Just following your example…” you mumble, referencing his messages and video.

“I haven’t stopped listening and watching those things you sent me, O’Hara…” you finally confess.

He chuckles before he moans, the jangling of his watch starts up in the background.

“Baby… if only I knew that you liked it from the beginning, I wouldn’t have needed to get all embarrassed…” he pauses as he takes a breath.

“Play with yourself faster chiquita, I want to hear you moan for me. But remember, don’t say my name.”

You do as he says, your fingers going in faster, tighter circles, producing a sweet little moan for his ears only.

“Mhmm… fuck, baby… louder…”

His voice breaks as you hear him put in more effort for his own actions, the strap of his watch clinking with each vigorous stroke.

You bite your lip as you worry about Ashley hearing you.

“Chiquita, louder…” he demands, his voice turning dangerous again.

You let go and do as he tells you, moaning louder for him.

“Good girl - are you close, baby?”

“Yes…”

“Go faster, I want to hear you cum for me, por favor…”

A louder moan rips from your throat as you edge nearer. He knows exactly what to say to you, and you’d bet money he’ll know exactly what buttons to press to make sure you’re a crying, dripping, creamy mess.

“Sí, sí, that’s it chica, give me what I want…”

His voice breaks as he’s getting close to blowing his load all over his toned abs. The burning in his right arm makes itself known.

You arch your back and your thighs clamp together around your hand, trapping it against your wildly throbbing sensitive bud. You cum hard for him, putting on a sexy audible display for him to get off to. Your moans are an exquisite representation as to how you’re feeling and he loves hearing every second of it. How he wishes he thought of recording the call so he can hear it over and over and over whenever he damn well pleases.

“Fuck! Baby - ay Dios!”

He grunts loudly and you finally hear him reach his orgasm. It sounds strong and powerful, each grunt resembling a wave of pleasure coursing through his body.

Your heavy breaths mix with his lust fuelled groans. The things you would do to have him there with you, making you come undone himself, going ‘feral’ on you.

“Mhmmm… chiquita, I gotta go get myself cleaned up. You uhh… made a mess, mi bonita.”

His comment makes you laugh, your sweet giggle fills the room.

“Talk tomorrow?” he asks, as he knows you’re probably just as tired as he is.

“I’d love to.”

“Sleep well, chiquita. Buenas noches,” (Good night / evening)

“Buenas noches…”

The call disconnects and Miguel puts his phone down next to him on the bed. Little does he know that his ex-wife, Xina, had her ear pressed up against his door listening to everything he said. Soon after she hears him hang up, she leaves the penthouse, taking her last box with her.

I hope you enjoyed Part 5!

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Pilot Miguel - Part 4 - Careful Chiquita

It's your second full day in Acapulco but it's also your last - for now at least. What do you intend to do on your last day in paradise?

Word count - 3783

Contains : Mostly fluff and banter, very slight mention of smut.

Minors DNI

Enjoy xx

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

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Miguel wakes up the next morning feeling a lot more refreshed than he did the day before, and the keen sting of his divorce has been dulled slightly by making a little friend in you.

His phone lights up with a buzz, illuminating a portion of his room. Long fingers search for it clumsily as he slowly wakes up from a restful sleep.

Looking at the notification, he sees it’s a text from you. He unlocks his phone faster than he cares to admit, keen to read your message, even if it is just a simple ‘Hi’.

“Good morning, you up?”

Clicking sounds fill the room as he types his response.

“Good morning. Just woke up. Sleep well?”

A speech bubble pops up indicating that you’re typing, then your reply appears.

“ :O Lazy bones… Get your tush out of bed. We’re getting churros for breakfast and then we’re paddle-boarding.”

He snorts at the word ‘tush’. Never has his ass been called that - not that he knows of...

Paddle-boarding… Miguel isn’t sure. He’s never done it before. After arriving here, he swore that he’d lock himself away the whole time. This seems quite a bit out of his comfort zone. But… he’d be spending time with you, so that’s a plus.

“Fine… I’m getting up. See you in twenty.”

Pushing his bedsheets away he gets up and strolls into the en-suite. There is a distinct fluttering in his chest. Nerves mixing in with a dash of excitement. Your words from yesterday are slowly becoming his little mantra. ‘New life, new job, new you.’

He showers, sprays on deodorant and gets dressed into his red swimming trunks and a loose, blue vest top. The only pair of sunglasses he has are his aviators so he clips them over the low neckline of his vest.

You’re already sitting at a table in the bar and restaurant area with a plate full of churros to share. A quirky smile breaks across his lips when he sees you.

You’re wearing a different bikini and another light poolside dress over the top. God, he loves seeing you wear things like that.

“Morning,” you greet him with a smile, trying very hard not to check him out.

Damn that vest. It really doesn’t leave much to the imagination. The top of his pectoral muscles are peeking out, and those biceps are going to be the death of you one day. Preferably with them wrapped around your neck. Shit… don’t get turned on now…

“Buenos dias,” (Good day / morning,) he replies as he takes the seat opposite you.

Taking a churro, he dips it in some chocolate sauce and chomps into it.

“Thanks for getting breakfast.”

You give a little giggle as you watch a grumpy looking man trying to stay acting like it but really he’s happy, deep inside.

“You’re welcome, and don’t worry - Peter’s already had his fill of breakfast. These babies are all ours.”

You gesture to the plate of churros before taking another one yourself.

As he finishes one, he starts to lick the tips of his fingers to clean off the granules of sugar before sucking them. Nothing in your power could stop you from staring. Your eyes fixed on his plump lips wrapped firmly around a digit before releasing it with a slight pop.

His brown eyes finally meet yours spurring you to close your hanging jaw and look away instantly. You pray he didn’t notice.

“So, why paddle-boarding?” he asks as he grabs another long stick of fried choux pastry.

“Why not paddle-boarding?” you answer his question with one of your own.

“You done it before?”

“Nope. You?”

“Nope…”

Miguel has an expression of uncertainty as he takes another bite. He wishes you had a different activity in mind instead. Like sunbathing or swimming or trying the hotel’s spa.

You notice his slight grimace.

“It’ll be fun and something new to try. You might love it.”

There’s that word again. ‘New’. New life, new job, new you….

The pile of churros has finally been defeated by the pair of you and it’s time to make a move to your paddle-boarding lesson.

You and Miguel walk side by side across the bridge over the swimming pool.

“Fancy another dip?” you ask with a smirk, referring to his impromptu swim yesterday.

“Not funny…” he grumbles, but you notice a flicker of the corner of his lips trying to tug up into a smile as he stares directly in front of him.

“Come ooooon it is kinda funny. You’ll see the funny side of it sooner or later.”

“I really won’t.”

You snort at how adamant he is. The smirk on your face widens as you can’t wait to see him try paddle-boarding.

“Where is the lesson?”

“On the water.”

You’re in one of those moods today. Miguel gives you a slightly impatient tut but nudges you with his elbow.

“No shit, Sherlock.”

A happy, hearty laugh erupts from your lips. Winding Miguel up just might be your new hobby. You nudge him back like he did to you.

“Just a little north along the beach. There’s a small port where the water is calmer.”

Calmer waters sound good. He was concerned before your answer because he can already hear the roar of the waves crashing onto the sand. Perfect conditions for surfing, not paddle-boarding.

The warm sand fills the gaps between your toes as you both walk barefoot, holding your flip-flops in your hand. It’s an enjoyable, gentle walk as you watch surfers ride the wild waves, children flying kites and adults finding their spot in the sun.

Reaching the port doesn’t take long. The water is much more tranquil as it appears to be in a sort of cove, a bit of land acting as a shield from the Pacific Ocean.

Before getting out on the boards, you both are given a small locker to put your things in like phones, keys, glasses, clothes and shoes.

You double-take as you see Miguel remove his vest, revealing the top half of his beautiful body to you. A flashback of the video he sent you the other night replays in your mind. You’re obsessed with that video but you dare not tell him, in fear of him dying with embarrassment.

Then you remember you have your little dress over the top of your bikini. The smooth, netted material glides over your skin as you pull it off. Miguel subtly watches from the corner of his eye, taking in your beautiful figure. He makes himself bite his lip to stop himself from thinking very bad, naughty things.

The instructor comes out of a hut and calls you two to come and pick up your large inflatable but sturdy boards and paddle.

You wrap the tether around your ankle and nudge the board out onto the water as the sea laps gently around your knees. The instructor joins you and begins the lesson.

“Hold the board steady with both hands and mount it, coming to rest on your knees.”

Both you and Miguel copy the instructor and climb onto your boards. It’s a little wobbly at first but when you get your knees in the right position the board balances out and starts to drift slowly.

“Good! Muy bien! (Very good) Now, take your paddle, then stroke one side, then the other.”

The instructor demonstrates by dipping the paddle into the water and pulling towards him. Then he lifts it out, crosses it over to the right of his board and does the same on that side too.

“We go to deeper water to try and stand on the boards.”

Miguel is ahead of you as his paddle strokes are bigger and stronger than yours. But you’re not complaining. You love how broad his shoulders are and how narrow his waist and hips are. Watching his back muscles flex with every stroke of the paddle almost makes you drool.

Out in deeper water the instructor slows to a stop and turns the board around using his paddle to face you both.

“To stand, you need slow and gentle movement. Hold the paddle across your board and use your hands to balance. Then, rock back onto the balls of your feet and stand up slowly,” the instructor emphasises his final word and you soon work out why.

Even with the help of your hands resting on the board, it wobbles violently as you try to push yourself up to standing.

“Woah! Shit!”

You chuckle nervously, but you gradually balance yourself out. Casting a glance at Miguel, you’re surprised to see him already standing.

“How!?” you ask exasperatedly as you tremble; one wrong move and you’re in the water.

His centre of gravity is much higher than yours, you thought he’d be struggling more than you.

An almost lazy, gentle turn of his head allows him to look at you as you wobble this way and that.

Finally, you start getting the hang of it. It takes a few falls into the water, but your legs gradually learn to cooperate with one another and get you to a standing position more confidently. All the while, Miguel acts like a natural, looking rather smug, especially after hearing you splash for the fifth time.

You clamber back onto the board, panting and spitting out salty water as you lay on your stomach. Your body is starting to tire, but you are having fun. Watching Miguel paddle about on his board totally dry, makes you smile.

Once again, you heave yourself back up and begin paddling.

“You’re spending more time in the water than paddling,” Miguel comments with a smirk as he passes by from behind, “should have just gone swimming in the hotel pool instead.”

Your jaw drops at his snide remark. He’s joking of course, but he’s trying to rile you up. What he doesn’t know is you love having the last laugh.

He’s at the perfect distance from you. What you’re going to do next will be worth falling in again. You swiftly move your paddle upwards and spank it against his ass while his back is to you. The sudden, unexpected contact jolts his entire body as he yelps in surprise.

The near seven-foot frame of Miguel stumbles as the board rocks and tips. You’re showered with water as he plunges into the sea while you cackle with glee.

Before you know it, your board tips suddenly and you also hit the water, making this your sixth fall.

Bubbles rush up your body, tickling your skin before you feel a warm arm wrap around you and press you against him. Once you stop coughing and spluttering he hoists you back up onto your board. You realise Miguel had tipped you over as payback but was prepared to catch you. You’re not the only one who likes having the last laugh it seems.

As you sit there, he looks up at you as he holds onto your board, short strands of soaked dark brown hair stick to his face, as drops of salty sea water stick to his skin. His parted lips almost curl into a smirk.

“Careful, chiquita…”

While he sounds sweet with those words, you can’t help picking up on a sense of danger as he mutters them. Almost like a warning. A warning that gets your heart in a flutter. You’re the metaphorical cat, while he’s the object of your curiosity. That being said, you don’t think he’d harm you, but, perhaps make you pay, somehow. Make you squirm, like he did to Peter the other night. Test your limits before breaking you. A shudder stirs you out of your brief daydream.

“Ahem…” the instructor clears his throat awkwardly as he looks between the two of you.

The warmth of Miguel’s body leaves you as he swims back to his board. His Greek God physique out on display once again as he effortlessly pushes himself up and straddles the float.

It is at that moment you know for sure that you want that man. You’d pursue him to the ends of the earth if necessary. You’re not going to force it though. If it’s going to happen then you want it to happen naturally. There’s definitely chemistry between the two of you and if you do eventually end up together, sparks are going to fly - big time. You’d put money on it.

In a moment that feels like it lasts for hours, you imagine sitting on his board with him. Your legs draped over his as you face him. He leans forward placing his hands either side of you behind your hips as he kisses you. His warm, plump lips caress yours as you feel his shaky breath fan across your skin. You want his heat on you again, bearing down on you as he lowers your back against the board and rests between your legs. His hips look like they fit you perfectly, you salivate at the thought of them slotting into place when he makes love or fucks you ruthlessly - you don’t care which.

“(Y/N)?” Miguel calls after you.

You almost jump as his voice summons you from your zoned out state. He’s already standing on his board. Show off…

You swing your leg over the other side of your board and get onto your knees. Finally, you get to your feet and paddle after Miguel and the instructor. The aquamarine blue of the water glistens as it reflects the bright Mexican sun. There’s a sense of pride within you as you feel pleased that you booked this lesson last minute. Every moment of this has been so much fun and spending it with Miguel has made it worth every single penny.

Reaching the shore again, you get back onto terra firma and drag your boards out of the water. Then you fetch your personal items from the locker.

“That was surprisingly fun, thank you for the treat,” Miguel pipes up after a while of pondering as you both walk along the beach back to the hotel.

While you walk, the breeze and the warmth of the sun dries you both off. You smile at Miguel’s comment.

“How’s your butt?” you ask in a gleeful manner.

You will remember that moment for the rest of your life. There was even a perfect bounce to it when your paddle came into contact with his ass; such a satisfying sound too. Suddenly you have an overwhelming desire to bite him there. You scream internally at the thought.

“Alright, no thanks to you,” he replies as he catches sight of a cute little cafe.

“You hungry?”

“Famished…”

“Because you spent more time swim-”

“Don’t even go there, O’Hara,” you pretend to threaten another spank, but he catches your wrist and pulls you closer, just a little, to make sure your attention is all on him.

“Call me Miguel.”

Your mind casts back to one of the few voice notes he sent you, remembering how he longs to hear you call him by his first name. Come to think of it, you still haven’t done that yet. A playful smirk creeps across your lips.

“I’ll try to remember that,” being very careful not to say it, you want to bide your time with this.

He lets go of your wrist but keeps his gaze on you through his aviator sunglasses.

“So playful today, chiquita,” he pauses as he hovers his hand behind you and directs you into the café.

“Come on.”

Upon entering, a waitress looks up and smiles at Miguel, raising her eyebrows expectantly for him to speak.

“Una mesa para dos personas, por favor,” (a table for two people, please) he asks her.

She takes two menus and steps around the counter, leading the two of you to a table outside, overlooking the beach.

“Paddle-boarding was your treat, lunch is mine, bueno?” He speaks quietly to you as he escorts you to the table and pulls your chair out.

You nod and take the seat he has chosen for you, giving you the best view of the sea.

Soon you are eating lunch with Miguel and he promises a sweet treat after. You have an eye on your favourite flavour ice cream to order after you finish your burger and fries.

A question burns in your mind, it has been since you worked out he had got divorced recently.

“What happened between you and your wife? - If you don’t mind me asking.”

While it is a very personal question, you want to know as much as you can about him seeing as you two seem to be getting close.

Hesitation flits across his face, working out whether he should open up about it or not. Eventually he decides to remove his aviators so you can see him properly and clips them over his vest.

“As you well know, pilots and cabin crew alike can work long hours and spend multiple days away from home. She was okay with this to begin with, but over time she liked it less and less,” he pauses to take a deep breath.

“I tried being a good husband to her. When I came home, I treated her right, took her out, or cooked her dinner to give her a break, but it wasn’t enough.”

His right thumb and middle finger instinctively gravitates to his left ring finger, but fails to find a wedding band to twist idly as he speaks. Eventually his hands rest either side of his plate of half eaten omelette and fries.

You notice his relaxed state has fizzled away and he is no longer looking at you. Feeling responsible for bringing down his mood, you place your hand on top of his. It looks pitifully small on top but you give him a little squeeze.

“That’s not on you, she knew what she was marrying into.”

He shrugs, nonchalantly.

“Maybe I got selfish? I couldn’t choose between my job and my wife…”

“You tried to compensate for it though. Surely that meant you cared?”

“I guess… I did care, of course,” he pauses for a second, “I just feel like I failed her, failed the marriage.”

Your brows narrow at his words as your hand squeezes his again.

“No… no… you didn’t. You worked hard to give her a comfortable home and when you returned from work, you continued to work hard to keep her happy. If anything, she failed you.”

A half smile appears on his face as he exhales heavily.

“Gracias, chiquita - eres muy dulce,” (thank you, little one - you are very sweet.)

With one final squeeze, you let go and you both return to your food.

Several minutes later you get your ice cream, you get three scoops of your favourite flavour in a cup and a cute little spoon to eat it with.

“Are you ready to go home tomorrow?” he asks, looking pensive out at sea

You scoff as you feel a pang of dread leaving this beautiful place and going back home to the mundane.

“No,” you pause as you follow his gaze to the ocean.

“I love it here. I have had an amazing time, and I don’t want it to end.”

“Maybe we’ll be back here again soon, or maybe a new place entirely. There are other beautiful places to visit than Mexico.”

Miguel is right, there’s plenty of nice places to visit on your rest days between long haul flights.

After paying the bill, the both of you continue your journey to the hotel as the sun continues to beat down on the sandy beach. More holiday makers are soaking up the sunny weather as the day has progressed into the afternoon.

Walking back over the bridge suspended over the hotel’s swimming pool, you spot an inviting bar with a thatched roof attached to the side of the pool. Swimmers can enjoy a drink without leaving the luxury of the pool.

“Come on, let’s check this place out.”

You walk at a faster pace to get off of the bridge and turn right to find a free sun lounger to ditch your stuff on.

“Uhh, I shouldn’t really be drinking, remember? Besides, I’m flying a plane tomorrow…”

Kicking off your flip-flops, you turn back to face him.

“They do mocktails, come on, I’m having one.”

He watches you take your dress off, once again revealing you in your bikini, his gaze follows you as you begin to slip into the pool, sauntering with every stride. How can he say no? With a deep sigh, as though he’s melting, he, too, kicks his flip-flops off, removes his vest and joins you in the pool.

Stools situated around the bar are submerged underwater. You take a seat while you watch Miguel swim up to you, taking only a matter of seconds as he’s so tall. He perches himself on the adjacent stool and relaxes, feeling the water cool his warm skin.

You order your mocktails and sip them slowly, enjoying each other’s company, whether it being in silence for a time, or taking part in a bit of back and forth banter. Needless to say, you spot a more obvious smile growing on his lips, the longer he spends time with you.

The next morning, you’re back in your uniform, looking, neat, tidy and perfect. After doing your final checks, you’re certain you have everything. A knock on your door makes you jump slightly, you’re not expecting anyone.

Opening the door, you see Miguel waiting for you, dressed in his pilot uniform.

“I’m going downstairs in a minute to check-out, but…” he pauses as he steps into your room and takes your hand.

“I can’t do this downstairs…”

He raises your hand and brings it to his lips, giving it a tender kiss, like he did the other night. A kaleidoscope of butterflies takes flight in your chest and stomach as you feel his soft lips caress the back of your hand.

“Thank you for making a shitty time of my life a little less shitty. I look forward to our next flight together, whenever that may be.”

Your eyes search his as you start to feel the butterflies die away and be replaced by a horrible sinking feeling. You don’t want to leave him, or, you don’t want him to go. You’re not on the same flight together back to Nueva York and there’s no telling when you’ll see him next.

Suddenly you take in a breath before speaking.

“M--”

He places a finger against your lips, making your eyes grow wide.

“Save it for when I see you again, chiquita…”

I hope you enjoyed Part 4!

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Pilot Miguel - Part 2 - Trouble in Paradise

Hola! You've landed in Acapulco, Mexico. Now begins your two days of fun in the sun before flying back to Nueva York.

Word count - 3022

Not much in the way of any triggering content, apart from alcohol consumption.

This fic will have smut, but not in this chapter. Minors DNI

Enjoy! xx

Part 1

If you enjoy this fic, please consider liking, commenting or re-blogging. Many thanks xx

You have never been to Acapulco before, but you definitely want to come back again if you get to stay in this hotel next time. The next two days are going to be perfect, full of sun, sand and sea.

The first thing you do when you get into your room is chuck your uniform off, remove that thick purple jacket and change into something much lighter and free.

Your room is brightly decorated with pale green walls. Light wooden headboards crown not one but two double beds. You even get a balcony with a sea view. Paradise…

Stepping out onto the balcony, your soft, bare feet pad onto the smooth beige tiles, heated by the afternoon sun. The coastal breeze whips your long beach dress around your legs. With your hair still up, the warm, rushing wind caresses the skin on your neck like a lover’s tender kiss. You could get used to this.

To catch up on a much needed intake of vitamin D, you sit on the balcony and soak up the sun for a short while as you connect your phone to the hotel’s WiFi.

Taking a few snaps, you post them up on Instagram for your jealous friends at home to drool over. You smirk as you hit the post button, knowing full well, your phone will buzz constantly with notifications in a few moments time.

The prominent sound of the waves crashing along the sandy beach fills you with joy. It’s a constant noise that relaxes you. With each wave coming in and ebbing away again, it’s as though the sea is breathing, deep, long breaths, in and out.

You close your eyes as you enjoy your moment of peace…

(Thirty minutes prior)

Captain O’Hara grimaces as he steps out of the bus as he and the crew arrive at the hotel. While the rest of his colleagues gawp and stare at what they consider an impressive hotel, he regards it more of the opposite. A large rectangle-like building with a slope down one side, gives him the impression that it’s a modern take on an ancient Mayan pyramid, how… original... But, it’s a place to stay at least. He can shut himself in his room and not talk to anyone for two days.

A chorus of rollalong bags fills the air as the entire crew make their way inside the hotel. Some girls talk excitedly while he notices others catching a glimpse at him. He keeps his head down, looking at the polished grey tiled flooring as they approach the reception.

While you check in, the Captain approaches another available hotel receptionist after they call him forward. A few moments later he’s presented with a room key and a door number.

“Gracias,” he mumbles to the person behind the front desk and moves off, to go looking for the elevator.

He sees you disappear behind a set of closing lift doors as you get your room key before him. It isn’t long before another lift arrives.

Stepping out of the elevator, he turns the corner and sees you enter your room. Your door clicks shut as he looks down at his room number, 928.

925, 926, 927… 928… Huh…

His room is right next to yours.

He inserts his key into the slot and a green light flashes. Then, he pulls it out and turns the door handle to enter.

The door slams behind him as he lets go of his case. His long fingers negotiate his golden buttons on his jacket, pulling it away once it’s undone. Then he tugs at his tie, loosening it so he can yank it over his head.

After being out in the stifling Mexican sun, his crisp, white shirt clings to his skin uncomfortably. One by one, each button is undone, revealing his perfectly toned chest. The cool, conditioned air kisses his skin, soothing that gross sticky feeling.

His phone buzzes in his pocket, another email no doubt. Unlocking his phone with one hand, his other unfastens his belt buckle.

An email from his lawyer is the latest notification on his screen. His considerably sized thumb presses on it to read the message.

“Dear Mr. O’Hara.

We’re writing to inform you that as of this morning, the court has approved yours and Mrs. O’Hara’s divorce agreement.

We thank you for choosing us to represent you…”

The email continues but he stops taking it in. His hand lowers, the phone slips from his long fingers and falls onto the bed.

That’s it. It’s official. Divorced and not even forty - that’s still a few years away. He feels a total failure. He knew this email would arrive today, but it still doesn’t soften the blow.

Being a pilot means spending a lot of time away from home. When he was dating his now ex-wife, she was aware of his career and even embraced it. However, it seems a few years down the line, she wasn’t quite as prepared for it as she thought.

Despite her changing her mind on what she wanted in their marriage, he still feels he was a disappointment. It’s not that he didn’t try in his relationship with her; on days that he was home, he took his wife out on dates, or even went away for a couple of days. But she wanted more than what he could provide, despite making it plain to her from the get go.

He thought that a change in airline would do him some good, new company, new people… So far, not the best start. Unlucky for him that the court’s verdict on his divorce settlement coincides with his first day at his new job.

Kicking his smart, black shoes off, across the floor, he strips off completely and ambles into the hotel room’s ensuite. His defined muscles flex with every lazy footfall. Shortly after, the pattering sound of water hitting the shower tray echoes out from the bathroom as he has a much needed soak and freshening up session.

Peter waves at you as you enter the bar. Earlier, you arranged to sit, eat and drink with him instead of being a major party animal like the rest of the crew. It’s not your style and it isn’t Peter’s either, not any more anyway. He’s married and has a little girl at home, and feels that getting hideously drunk and dancing into the early hours of the morning is no longer appropriate. His head thanks him for that the morning after while the rest of the crew hide away in dark rooms feeling ill.

He taps his room keycard on the waxed table as you approach and sit.

“Hotel’s great isn’t it?” he asks as he watches you take in the surroundings.

The bar and restaurant is on the third floor. Windows on the inside, show the tops of the palm trees growing on the first floor in the lobby. Wooden support beams are dotted between tables.

“I love it. Definitely want to come back here again,” you reply as you tuck your chair in further under the table.

“Certainly makes it worth putting up with a hellishly boring flight with the new Captain.”

You frown sympathetically.

“That bad huh?”

Peter gives a laboured sigh.

“The dude hates speaking sentences longer than one word. And when he has no choice in having a conversation, he’s an ass about it.”

You chuckle. It’s funny when Peter gets animated and grouchy; the latter being a rare occurrence.

“Maybe he just needs a good fuck,” Peter says flippantly, picking up his drink and raises it to his mouth.

“Who needs a good fuck?”

Peter nearly spits his drink out in shock and you turn your head towards whoever just spoke.

At the side of your table, the giant Captain approaches, dressed in a white button up t-shirt and cream coloured shorts, complimenting his gorgeous skin tone. He knows that Peter was talking about him, but wants to see the First Officer squirm - or choke, he’s not fussed either way…

The sound of a chair dragging along the floor fills the room as Captain O’Hara takes a seat, joining the two of you. His expression, full of mock expectancy for Peter to answer his question.

“Uhh, just someone that both (Y/N) and I know,” he responds finally after wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

The Captain sits to your right while Peter is opposite you on the square table.

“Uh huh. Right,” he pauses as he places his large hands together and rests his elbows against the table.

“And is this something to do with the guy who ‘hates speaking sentences longer than one word’?”

As your eyes flit between the two pilots, you notice a lighter band of skin around his ring finger, as if he used to wear a ring but doesn’t anymore.

“Oh, fine - I was referring to you,” Peter concedes.

“I still stand by it though…”

You think Peter is being rather feisty, maybe he has gained some courage from drinking. He does seem more relaxed than usual.

Captain O’Hara squints at the First Officer’s comment, but before he can retort, you speak up.

“How long have you been flying, Captain?”

He looks at you in a stunned silence. Your question and tone of interest totally disarms him. Those dark brown eyes scan your face momentarily while Peter watches him and then you.

“Uhm…” The Captain has to think for a second, counting the number of years he has been flying for.

“Coming up to nine years. Why do you ask?”

His arms fold on top of the table.

You give a slight shrug, you were just simply interested in knowing, but you offer up a reason anyway.

“Today’s landing was probably the smoothest I’ve ever had.”

The Captain’s face turns slightly pink as his gaze drops away from yours. You notice a slight vibration under the table, as his knee bounces up and down rapidly.

“Oh… Um… Good flying conditions help - uhm… don’t they Parker?”

Peter is almost grinning watching this display of awkwardness from Captain O’Hara, but that cheeky expression drops when the pilot turns to face him.

“Oh, yeah, cross-winds are a nightmare. We had good and calm weather on our side today.”

As the conversation continues, the Captain finds himself surprised that he hasn’t felt tempted to leave. He originally wanted to order room service, but it turns out the hotel only does buffets so he was forced to leave his room. As you and Peter go in search of food, he watches over the table and your small bag containing your phone. While he waits, he orders a beer which will be his third this evening as he had already raided the minibar before leaving his room.

At the expansive buffet table, you decide to give fajitas a try. You place a couple of tortilla wraps on your plate and place some grilled food in the middle of them both. A small bowl of spicy Mexican rice gets your attention, so you pick that up too. The food smells amazing, and you’re surprised you’ve never given much Mexican food a chance before.

Peter looks like he’s in heaven, such a wide variety and one plate to fit it all on. You can tell he’s going to be there for a while.

Sitting back down at the table you tentatively try to negotiate the wrap. You fold one side over and then the other, but realise that will end up in a great, big mess. Captain O’Hara is taking a mouthful of Corona when he spots you having trouble with your food. He quickly gulps it and puts the glass down.

“Oh, no. Here’s how you do it,” he reaches towards your plate but pauses and looks at you.

“May I? I washed my hands before I came down.”

You give a nod in response to let him touch your food.

“Okay,” he begins, “you fold this bit here upwards, then fold the side over and do the same on the other side, like so...”

As he speaks, he demonstrates the folding technique.

“Nothing falls out the other side when you bite into it then.”

The Captain nudges your plate back towards you with a weak smile.

“Oh, right! That makes sense. Thank you.”

Picking up what now resembles a parcel of food, you bite into it. The flavours of the marinade and spices burst in your mouth and you give a contented hum of approval.

“Mmmm! That’s so good.”

You cover your mouth as you chew and swallow.

“Do you eat much Mexican food?” you ask with interest to maintain a polite conversation, before glancing over at Peter with a plate piled high with food; you suppress a laugh.

“Well, I’m - half Mexican so, I kinda grew up with it.”

“Oh - of course. How silly of me,” you reply before taking another bite.

He gives a slight shrug before he gawks at Peter’s mountain of food.

As you eat, you think about the Captain’s last name. O’Hara…

“So, you’re half Irish too?” you ask.

His gaze drops slightly again.

“Yes, that’s right. But, I don’t really recognise my Irish heritage. My father was a good for nothing piece of shit.”

As he answers, you can detect a hint of venom in his voice. Perhaps a story for another time - or never; you won’t push him.

Peter finally sits at the table, carefully setting his plate down after treating the journey like an intense balancing act.

“Are you going to eat all of that, Parker?”

Too late, the man has already started eating. There won’t be much sense coming from him now.

“Oh, he’ll eat most of it at least,” you answer for him and receive a look from Captain O’Hara as if non verbally asking you if you are serious.

“Well, I’m going to go and see if there’s anything left.”

He stands, suddenly reminding you how tall he is while you crane your head up to look at him as he heads towards the buffet.

A little later on, you’re all fed, watered - kind of, and feeling a little weary after a long day. Peter nurses a huge food baby and looks to be settled in his chair for a little while. You stifle a yawn just as the Captain finishes his fourth beer of the evening.

“Well boys,” you begin as you stand, “I’m going to get some shut-eye. Got to prepare myself for a day of doing absolutely nothing tomorrow.”

You sling your little bag over your shoulder.

“I’ll come with you - we’re neighbours,” the Captain stands up too and begins to follow you while Peter waves lazily.

“G’night!”

The both of you begin your leisurely walk back to your rooms, chatting along the way. You can tell that the beer has loosened him up quite considerably and seems more willing to talk. It’s been fun learning a bit about him. Then you realise, you don’t know his name.

“What’s your name, Captain? Seems a bit odd calling you that all the time.”

He gives a very small chuckle as he realises he’s neglected to tell you the most basic bit of information about him.

“Oh, my name’s Miguel,” he reaches out for something that you think is your hand which you offer him to shake.

Miguel slaps it lightly out of the way.

“No, your phone, gi’me your phone.”

“Oh…”

Unclasping your little bag, you bring out your cell phone and unlock it. Then you open your contacts and hand the device to him.

The keyboard clicks as he enters in his details, although he has to use the backspace several times until he types it correctly.

“There,” he hands it back to you. “Text me, and I’ll have your number too.”

Taking the phone, you press the message button and you begin to type.

“Hello Miguel. :) xx”

Then you hit send, hearing a deep buzz from his pocket just a moment later.

He knows it’s from you, but he looks anyway; the ‘xx’ catches his eye.

“Do you send kisses to all your Captains?” he asks as a pink hue glows on his cheeks, feeling the heat rising in his face; unable to tell if he is blushing from the chemistry or the beer.

“I don’t text any of my other Captains,” you reply, sounding more flirty than you originally intended.

You reach the door to your room but before you pull your keycard out of your bag, Miguel takes your hand and pulls it towards his lips. Your eyes widen at the surprise, but they soften when he plants a tender kiss against your knuckles.

Photo by Colin Lloyd on Unsplash

“Well, I’m honoured to be the only Captain you have stored in your phone.”

Now it’s your turn for your face to go bright pink. It’s impossible to tell who’s blushing more.

Eventually he releases your hand, letting it fall back to your side.

“Goodnight,” you say softly, your voice almost non-existent.

He bids you goodnight in return and watches you enter your room before he unlocks his door.

Flipping his lightswitch, his room is fully lit once again. He flops down on his bed after kicking his flip-flops off and grabbing another beer from the minibar.

As he lays there, he thinks about his divorce and how much of a fuck up his marriage was. Then his mind visits the memory of you bumping into him that morning, and the smell of your

perfume. After that, he thinks about Peter saying that Miguel needs a good fuck; to not be so grumpy, he presumes. Perhaps he’s right. It has been a while… Speaking of… He feels a twitch under his cream coloured shorts and groans.

“Not now…” he grumbles to himself.

He’s too tired, too depressed and too drunk to pleasure himself right now, but it persists. Picking up his phone from his pocket, he tries to distract himself but sees your message when he unlocks it.

Another groan spills from his lips before he sets his beer down on his bedside table and unzips his shorts…

I hope you enjoyed Part 2.

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