carnal — sebastian sallow x fem!reader x ominis gaunt
plot summary: Challenging two renowned Aurors responsible for almost half of the imprisonment of numerous dark wizards leads to you experiencing being hunted for your life during a celebratory party at the ministry.
warnings: 18+, explicit sexual content, dark themes, slight plot with porn, aged up characters (silver trio are in their mid 20's), sebastian and ominis are aurors, random ocs mentioned (i just shit out names tbh), random hp shit as well not sure some of them exist in the canon lore, reader is a magizoologist in a partnership w the ministry, they hunt u down (its all roleplay), dominis, switch seb, bottom reader, she/her prns is used for reader, ominis, you and seb like pulling each others hair lmfao, oral sex, p in v sex, choking, all the nasty stuff.
notes: inspired by @/pseudonymmcwriter i love prns fics pls you should check them out if ur into detroit become human <3 minors are highly discouraged from reading. read at your own risk. pt 2 of carnal.
It was supposed to be a joke.
A jest at their occupation. You didn't mean to talk shit about their jobs as Aurors. You were merely joking around, influenced by the festivities around you. Although, you suppose you shouldn't have tried to joke around Slytherins at all. It was a celebratory party for the new head Auror, Ryona Bassett, who was praised for her leadership skills and achievements in finally capturing a dark wizard creating havoc in the wizarding world. It was due to this that she had gotten her promotion, a well-earned position on her part.
Of course, she couldn't have done it herself. As part of her plan to capture said wizard, she had formed a group of talented wizards and witches to aid her. Part of that group was you. The wise witch had apparated in front of your apartment in London, sitting on the bench like the menace that she is in hopes of recruiting you as part of her team (You had almost jumped out of your skin at the creepy sight).
It was because of your skills and experience in the field of magical creatures that led you to be recruited by Ryona Bassett. Dragons were said to be one of the weapons used in the dark wizard's plan, and well, who'd be perfect for the job other than you? As a magizoologist, your job enabled you to mostly work alone as it required intensive travel all over the world. Although you worked for the Care of the Magical Creatures department, you were more of a partner rather than an employee of the ministry. You saved Hogwarts during your 5th year, rescued the fate of the wizarding world after a dark wizard had tried yet again to sabotage the election of a new leader, and also nurtured and rescued beasts in your care.
Basically, you were a big shot, and y'know that big shots like you always get called for the important stuff, which is why you're where you are today.
Part of the said group was also none other than your two dearest friends; Sebastian Sallow and Ominis Gaunt, Aurors at the British Ministry of Magic. Sebastian and Ominis were the two people who Ryona had at her beck and call given that they did work in her division. However, these weren't the only reasons why she had chosen the two. They both had risen the ranks at a much faster rate than others ever since they joined the Auror office. This wasn't to your surprise considering the two often sneaked out in the safety of the Undercroft to practice spells out of Hogwarts' jurisdiction. Sebastian Sallow was known for his magical prowess in dueling and knowledge of the dark arts whilst Ominis Gaunt excelled more in tracking and hunting through magical traces. Despite his blindness, he had formed a unique connection to his wand, allowing him to sense and feel magic more sensitively than others. The two are quite formidable Aurors and built up a reputation as one.
They were also known to be the pair who almost filled half of Azkaban. They were that good.
It didn't help that they were also attractive. They were deemed to be the ministry's most desired bachelors of this era. You couldn't agree more.
It had been a while since the three of you were together in the same room. You kept your friendship low maintenance and would send an owl to each other here and there. To be honest, the low-maintenance friendship was more of you and them, but we don't need the specifics. After a long month of trying to catch Hugo Blaire (the dark wizard, yes), it wasn't a huge surprise that a party would be done in honor of the group's efforts and contribution to making another safe and sound day for the wizarding world.
You don't know how many glasses of champagne you had downed in the past hour, but you sure as hell won't be counting. You've been scanning the crowd, looking for a particular brunette and blonde amongst a sea of unfamiliar people.
It was tiring trying to keep up with the greetings and the conversations. You probably mispronounced multiple last names at this point, and you couldn't care any less at how many eye twitches and failed to keep horrified expressions you've seen in the past hour. Your assistant, Judy Beckham, decided to be your spokesperson at the start as she noticed that the glass on your hand seemed to have no plans leaving your grasp. It was funny seeing her play as your publicist as you had yet again purposefully mispronounced "Yaxley" to "Yackley? Yatley? Yale? Shitley?" (It was well deserved, to be honest. He was on your shitlist after he had tried to order your imprisonment when you were trying to rescue a Zouwu who had wreaked havoc in the streets of London. He claimed you were the one responsible for the mess... Which was partially true... But not all of it!)
"And that should be your final drink." A voice interrupted your thoughts before a hand grabbed the refillable glass in your hand, moving it away from your grasp. The scent of musk and wood immediately infiltrated your senses as your back feels the presence of another. You turn to face the culprit, smiling at him.
"Sebastian." You softly reply as you place a hand on his arm. "I was looking for you."
"As have I, darling." He chuckles before glancing at the glass in his hand, watching as it filled back up with champagne. "Though it seems you've already started to enjoy yourself."
"Refillable charms are a crime." You softly laugh in response. The Auror has a soft look on his face. You glance back at the center of the ball where Ryona stood alongside the rest of the crew, entertaining guests. "Aren't you supposed to be there?"
"You mean we?" He corrects as he places a hand on your waist. You feel butterflies in your stomach. You push it away.
"... Right."
"Where's the little redhead you're with?" Sebastian doesn't need to crane his head to survey the room. He was a tall motherfucker who was gifted with the lucky genes. You didn't know how much a person could grow knowing that he was the same height as you in your fifth year, then you were at his shoulder in your 7th. He was tall and attractive. A direct shit to your face.
"You mean Judy?" You raise an eyebrow at him despite mentioning her multiple times in your letters. He smiles a boyish grin at you.
"I saw her a moment ago trying to calm down August Yaxley from transfiguring you then and there. What'd you do this time?" You feel his thumb rubbing the material of your dress on your waist. His stare was unwavering as he encouraged a response out of you.
"Mispronounced his name. It was quite funny seeing the number of expressions running through his face. Quite a life-changing experience, if I do say so myself. As for Judy, she just gave up on me. She's probably drinking herself to death somewhere." You jest. He chuckles at your response before pulling his hand away from your waist. It almost made you whine at the loss, but you remember this is your best friend, and you shouldn't be whining like a submissive bitch in heat at the loss of his touch. "Where's Ominis?"
"Ah." He places the glass on the waiter's tray as one passes by before crossing his arms over his chest. He looks so attractive in his black three-piece suit with a silver chain hanging on his vest. It didn't help with the way the material of his coat stretched along his arms, fitting his physique perfectly. You wanted to drool. "He'll be here in a minute."
"That sounds oddly vague." You rest your weight on one leg as you copy his form. "What's he really doing?"
Sebastian rolls his eyes before raising his arms in defense. "You got me. He's finishing writing up and collecting final intel on another case."
"That quick? Damn." Your eyes widen in amusement.
"Remember that church we went to last week? A couple of days before Blaire's capture? The one in Glasgow." He recalls. You hum, remembering the place. "Turns out, there were other traces of dark magic there different from Blaire's lot. It was an infamous place for dark wizards to gather, and we were lucky enough to be able to hit two birds with one stone. Ominis was able to decipher the similarities of that dark magic to the ones he received from that hacienda back in the Philippines."
"That's amazing." You marvel at Ominis's tracking skills.
"I know. Bassett put us on the case right after this." Sebastian sighs. "Not sure if that's a blessing or a curse."
"Just shows how talented you guys are." You bite your lip as you pat his arm. Sebastian shakes his head.
"You had a hand in this, too." He gives you a pointed look. "If it weren't for our daring escapades, I wouldn't be where I am today."
"Yeah, right. If I recall correctly, you were the mastermind of it all."
"I wouldn't have done it if I didn't witness your magical prowess in ancient magic, Ms. Hero of Hogwarts." He leans in, pinching your cheek as he teases you. You flush in embarrassment at the title, trying to forget after years of hearing it multiple times to the point where all you wanted to do is obliviate the whole damn school. Wasn't it so hard to just say you saved the school? Why'd they have to press in the title 'Hero'? Thankfully, Sebastian's proximity made you forget an incoming war flashback of your time at Hogwarts. You would've died from cringe there and then.
"You two look cozy with each other. If I were from Daily Prophet, I'd already made millions from using this as gossip material." A new presence has arrived, startling you two out of your comfortable conversation. Sebastian sighs dramatically at his entrance.
"Ominis. You're late." Sebastian chastises jokingly as he watches his best friend glare in the direction of his voice. You might've laughed at Sebastian trying to act like a disappointed mother, but you were taking your time checking out the new addition to your little group. Similar to Sebastian, Ominis had also experienced a growth spurt. Nearly at the same height as the brunette beside you, the man embodies the essence of elegance and gallantry. His hair is in his usual slicked-back hairdo and wearing a dark blue three-piece set that matched his cloudy blue eyes. Ominis adjusts the tie on his neck with his free hand before moving close to you two with the guide of his wand.
"Thanks, Sebastian, for the obvious observation." He sarcastically replies before feeling for your hand and pressing a soft kiss on the back of it. "Hello, love."
"You two practicing on your courting game or something?" You joke as you watch Ominis put down your hand gently. Sebastian tucks his hands into the pockets of his slacks as he moves close to stand behind you. "I feel so flattered."
"It's just the bare minimum, dove." Sebastian leans in to whisper against your ear. He laughs softly as you move back, tickled by his breath. Ominis wasn't able to hear what the other Auror said and could only sigh in exasperation at Sebastian's antics.
"I heard you were finishing an intel report on a new case, Ominis." You change the subject as you rest your hand on his arm. Ominis places a hand on top of yours.
"Yes. Did Sebastian mess up again?" He turns to the direction of your voice with an accusing tone. "Don't answer. Of course he did."
"Hey! That's unfair of you to assume." Sebastian pouts.
"Am I wrong?" Ominis raises his eyebrow. Sebastian falls silent. "Thought so."
"Shut up."
"I am quite curious, though, did you ever have an instance that you weren't able to track someone?" You ask out of curiosity as your arm intertwines with Ominis's. You glance between the two as they pause to think. These two were deemed the best in the industry. Surely, the praises were exaggerated, right? You had a hard time tracking poacher locations, and you already had possession of ancient magic. Being the best doesn't entail 100% success.
"Nah." Sebastian answers nonchalantly. Ominis nods in agreement. "Sure, some took more time than others but everything's trackable."
You pause for a moment at their answers. "Really?"
"Yes. Everyone leaves tracks of magic every day. It's quite easy to decipher once you're used to it." Ominis adds, trying to convince you further. You hum, still unconvinced by their claims. Sebastian turns to you, looking at you with an unwavering stare. You tried to look back, but you could only glance away, not able to return it.
There's a moment of silence before the brunette breaks it off.
"You don't believe us, do you?" Sebastian says with his eyes wide and eyebrows raised in amusement. Ominis has an unreadable look on his face. You feel like you've offended them both with the way Sebastian's staring at you and Ominis's tense body.
"Well— I mean, surely not all right?" You sheepishly smile at him. Sebastian scoffs at you.
"I assure you, Y/N. When I track something, I get it done." Ominis turns his body towards you, causing your arm to fall from his. You look between the two as they continue to look at you with unreadable looks. You feel as though you've suddenly been cornered. Like you've done something worthy of their attention as Aurors and not as Sebastian and Ominis. This shouldn't excite you, but it did, and so you stupidly continued your plan on pissing them off.
Slytherins are known for one thing, and that's their drive for ambition and winning in competitive environments. What more to entertain yourself by pissing off not one but two snakes?
"Bullshit." You've resorted to using harsh methods. You could see the way Ominis's eye twitched and Sebastian's sudden change of posture. You were glad you met those boring guests back then, it certainly helped maintain a straight face. "Not even once?"
"Y/N." Sebastian takes a step close. "We're not kidding."
"Sure you are." You let out a giggle as you move a step back, trying to gauge their reactions. Ominis steps close to Sebastian's side as he clenches his jaw. This is fun.
Now, this is where the actual problem starts. You were having way too much fun trying to get a rise out of them that the words spewing out of your mouth were thought half-assed. You were joking but they we're taking it seriously.
"I'd bet my whole fucking body you won't be able to catch me. Even Bassett has a hard time getting me these days. What more of a challenge than a magizoologist to track, hm?" You laughed.
Bad move.
Bad fucking move, because all of a sudden, you could feel the tenacity of their stare. Even Ominis seemed like at that specific moment could see you and stare straight into your soul. You felt your body go rigid with nervousness.
The silence was long and uncomfortable. Both of them stood there, postures domineering and authoritative. You felt scared but at the same time, excited. You decided to make the first move.
"Guys?"
Sebastian licks his lips as he looks at Ominis before leaning close to his ear and whispering. The other Auror blinks slowly as he listens to him before nodding. Sebastian moves forward first.
"What's the bet again?" Sebastian smugly asks. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion.
"I'm afraid I'm not following—"
"You said you'd bet your whole body, right?" He reminds you. Your eyes widen in response.
"I wasn't serious about it." You try to reason with them.
"We weren't joking in the first place. You know we've always liked you. Why not take advantage of a little opportunity, hm?" Sebastian says with a low voice as he raises a hand to tuck a stray hair behind your ear. He looks down at you with eyes that seemed to mock you. You felt slightly ashamed but tried to keep your confidence afloat.
It was common knowledge that the two best friends pined after you. Ever since your 5th year, the two had fallen irrevocably in love with everything about you. You knew. They knew you knew and yet a silent pact was made between the two to never make a move on you as they didn't know how you felt and didn't deem it worthy as the fall of their friendship. You were glad somehow but also saddened because you never really chose between them. You liked them both. But they didn't need to know that. Right?
Well, it seems as if they're testing you right now, and with the amount of alcohol in your system combined with their dark looks trained on you, you wouldn't be surprised if you did admit your attraction to both of your best friends.
"Aw, are you scared?" Sebastian taunts. Ominis only stands behind him, posture calm and collected as he listens to his partner speak for him.
"Shut the fuck up." You reply in a weak voice, feeling intimidated by their aura. Ominis lets out a soft laugh. "I was joking about it in the first place—"
"Ah, ah." Sebastian grasps your chin in his hand, turning your face towards him. "You said it first. We're just finishing the job."
You let out a shaky breath as they continue to move closer and into your space. Sebastian's thumb caresses your bottom lip as he stares at you with want and desire.
"Let's be clear here, darling. The only reason why Bassett can't properly find you is that it's her that's finding you." Sebastian mumbles lowly. You could feel the grip on your chin tightening. Your knees tremble at his domineering hold on your face as your core begins to burn with arousal. "You've never had us."
Shit.
It's Ominis that sets the final nail in the coffin. He leans down to whisper in your ear. "Ryona's going to give a final speech in the next few minutes."
A hand slithers across the small of your back before grabbing your waist, pulling you close to him. You let out a small moan at the harsh movement before the lips against your ear continue to move. "We're going to give you 30 seconds to move. You got that, sweetheart?"
A soft kiss placed on both sides of your neck makes you whimper as both of them pull away from you. You watch as Sebastian casts a final look at you before both of them disappear into the crowd. You stand with knees weak and mind in shambles as you hear the crowd cheer at Ryona's entrance. She waves into the crowd and suddenly you're face with an existential crisis.
We're you suppose to move during? Or after? Did you have to hide? Fuck, did the 30 seconds already start? You couldn't grasp a single thing in your mind as your eyes tried to find the familiar backs of the two. It seemed all the eerier that you didn't know where they were. It was like a predator hiding and waiting for the perfect chance to pounce. So as the submissive prey that you are, you began to move.
You squeezed your way through heaps of people. Ryona's speech was already considered background noise for you. You had reached the east entrance, sighing in relief before a pair of hands stop you from reaching freedom. You could almost feel your heart drop before exhaling a big breath at the sight of your assistant, Judy Beckham.
"Where were you? I was looking everywhere for you!" Judy worries like the inner mother that she is. You could almost coo at her concern over your well-being but the thought of two Aurors after your ass was more pressing than the worried redhead in front of you.
"Listen, Judy. If ever you come across Sebastian and Ominis, tell them I went to the west side of the building." You smile widely as you hold her arms tight within your grasp. Judy raises her eyebrow in confusion.
"Y/N, you're not making sense—"
"Please!" You plead as you pull her closer to your face. The girl cranes her head back at the proximity. "I'm in grave danger if those two ever find me. Be a gal and lie, okay?"
Judy stares at you for a few seconds before sighing. "West. Got it."
"Thank you!" You grab her for a quick hug before bolting through the doors. Your heels clack noisily on the marble floor as you rushed through the partially empty corridors of the ministry. You pass by familiar faces who you kindly shoot a smile at.
"Fucking heels—" You groan as you reach for the devil traps on your feet, pulling them off and continuing your escape barefoot. You manage to reach the hallway to the elevator before a voice causes you to pause and crouch down to hide.
"Y/N." Ominis's tender voice echoes throughout the empty corridor. You hide in a corner as you watch his figure pass by the elevator. Great, the easiest way out was already guarded. You should've thought that ahead. "I know you're here."
You remain silent as you watch Ominis pace back and forth slowly, face looking calm and collected. You assess your surroundings, looking for a way to escape.
"Do you want to know why I know you're here?" Ominis asks which catches your attention. You check behind you to ensure that no Sebastian was sneaking up on you to catch you off guard. You wait for him to reply. "You've always had a particular magical aura. I sensed a glimpse of it when you entered the doors of the Great Hall in our 5th year, then it grew bigger and stronger when I saw you exit the Undercroft. Magical auras tend to vary according to a wizard or witch's personality and most of them feel loud and ... unnerving. You, however, shine like sunlight on a sunny day. A gentle breeze at the start of autumn."
Your breath hitched as you hear his footsteps halt. You feel your cheeks heat up at his declaration, you bite your lip as you wait to hear more. "I felt attached to you because of it. Like a moth to a flame. Do you think spending years by your side that I haven't got your aura ingrained in my head? I suppose that's what I get for falling for you."
Fuck. You don't know where he went. It seems as if one moment you knew he was there and then the next he was gone. You peek into the hallway, glancing back and forth.
You knew you shouldn't have let your guard down. You knew that you were faced with someone who was so used to tracking and feeling magic differently and more sensitively than others that it became an extra sense to them. You feel his breath before his touch.
"It's the very reason why I sense you right away. You're leaking your tracks everywhere, love." He speaks lowly against your ear. With a harsh shove and a twist of your arm to your back, he pushes you against the wall with your front against the hard surface.
"O-Ominis, wait!—" You try to plead but the Auror only presses you more against the wall. He had your arm twisted against your back with a hold of your wrist. His chest pressed against yours and his face on the side of your neck.
"That fast?" He mocks you as he laughs closely against your ear. You try to push back against his grip but you remain defenseless.
"Fuck you."
"You wish." He mumbles lowly in your ear. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent before placing possessive kisses against it. You let out sighs of pleasure before groaning in pain as Ominis grabs your head by your hair and angles it for more room on your neck.
"Let me go." You breathlessly beg as you allow him to pepper kisses against your neck. You wish to stay there and then but you knew that the boys wanted a bit more fun. After all, you wanted to get the most out of this once-in-a-lifetime situation.
"Now, why would I do that?" Ominis bites your ear lobe as he grinds his hips against your ass. You try to turn your head towards him.
"Cause you love a good chase, right? This barely counts as one." You tempt him, grinding back against his moving hips. He lets out an amused laugh, letting go of your wrist as he encloses his arms around your waist, hugging you tightly against him. You bask in his presence, head falling back on his shoulder. He turns his head to the side, placing more kisses on your neck before biting on your shoulder. You let out a soft moan.
"I'm giving you another 15 seconds. Run as fast as you can." He whispers in your ear before sensually moving his arms off your waist. He takes 5 steps back before motioning the empty corridor with a nudge of his hand. You lick your lips before running away from him.
Ominis tilts his head back as he pants from the arousal, running his fingers through his neatly styled hair before a voice enters his mind.
"Are you on your way?" Sebastian asks. Ominis rolls his eyes before fixing his coat. Sebastian often flexed his magical abilities, especially this one he had learned recently. The ability to communicate through the mind. His best friend was a natural student of magic, curious to the wizarding world and desperate in learning all of it as he is a son to two former educators. This was also what made him a pain in the ass.
"I let her go. She's on her way to you." He replies as he takes his time following your trail. He's sure if he made a run for it now, he'd get you in no time. But he decides to play by your rules.
"Fucker. Did you get a taste?" He hears Sebastian chuckle through their shared mind connection.
"Get the fuck out of my head before I get her myself."
"You're hot when you're angry, y'know?" Sebastian purrs. Ominis grunts at his flirt. "Got it, sir."
You don't know how long you've run. Most of the ministry departments were empty due to the large celebration on one of the building's halls. Everyone was there and the only creatures patrolling the halls were Matagots. They were formidable creatures who easily sensed intruders so if there was a breach in security, a single spell cast on a Matagot would immediately alert all of you. You've decided to stop at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement as you deduced that Sebastian would probably be on standby in front of the elevator when it reached the ground level. At least here, you were close to the ground floor and there's a passageway that leads you down to the ground floor discreetly (you'd have to thank Hank, the house elf in charge of the elevator for that one).
Also because you've chosen this floor, consequently you knew you were on the floor where the Auror office is located. Which means, Sebastian and Ominis's floor. This is probably the least floor to logically be on but you probably (emphasis on probably) knew that they wouldn't check here. The passageway was located at the Head Auror's office and so you just need to sneak your way in and easily escape.
Unfortunately, Merlin was being a bitch.
As soon as you opened the entrance to the Auror division, you gasp quietly at Sebastian leaning against the doors to the Head Auror's office, twirling his wand elegantly between his fingers.
"Fancy seeing you here." Sebastian smiles so innocently. You stand on alert as he moves away from the double doors and towards you with careful steps.
"How'd you know?" You ask as you take steps back with every step forward from the man in front of you. Sebastian shrugs.
"When you're well versed with the dark arts, it's quite easy to detect certain things." Sebastian hums. "Or maybe it's just basic logic. After all, you have to think ahead of your opponent."
You continue to take a step back before your back meets a surface that wasn't originally there. You turn around to see the very same man who had given you a moment of mercy.
"Again?" Ominis smiles with pity, pretending to have no clue as to why he found you yet again. You let out a loud gasp before rushing to the one side of the room to move away from them both. The two stalk toward you like predators. You could feel your breath shortening with nervousness as they cornered you to a wall. You had no way out. You discreetly glance around you before seeing an opening to the Head Auror's office. In a moment of panic and sheer bravery, you bolt down towards the double doors leading to your escape, trying to get one last chance to run away.
Sebastian snarls as he runs after you. Ominis stands behind, arms behind his back as he lets his partner handle the work. You could feel the fast thumps of his foot against carpeted floor as your hands try to open the overly complicated entrance. You clumsily open the door before a set of strong arms grab your waist and pull you away from your only chance of escaping. You scream in retaliation before a hand covers your mouth.
"Bad, bad girl." Sebastian huffs as he presses you against his chest, hand on your mouth as he watches you fight back in his grasp. His hands then move to reposition themselves. One hand wraps around your waist while the other grabs your neck and grips it back to lay your head back against his shoulder. "Should I cast Oscausi on you for being so fucking loud, hm?"
"Sebastian." Ominis calls his attention before nodding to one of the open and empty offices. He moves towards the two of you as Sebastian pulls you to the empty roomwith Ominis locking the door behind him. "Stop scaring her."
"Do you think she looks scared?" Sebastian raises his eyebrow as he settles on a desk, pulling you to his lap. You shake, riddled with sensitivity as Sebastian continues to grip your neck. Ominis raises his hands, gliding up your arms before feeling Sebastian's hold on your neck and then moving up to your face. He feels the heat from your cheeks, the dryness of your lips and hears the soft little gasps and moans escaping your mouth. You were aroused and completely at their mercy. Ominis smiles as he runs his thumb against your bottom lip before leaning in close.
"We won, little dove. Are you ready?" He gently asks. Sebastian gently eases on his grip but remains his hold on your neck. You look up at Ominis and softly brush your lips against his.
"Just fuck me already." You pant, blunt with your response as the two fall into silence.
"Fuck." Ominis curses before surging in to press his lips against yours. Sebastian almost falls back at the sudden pressure but recollects himself as he busies with kissing your neck.
Hands begin to grope at your body. Sebastian's hands gripped your waist as he moved his hips up against yours, his bulge rubbing against your heat. Ominis cups the nape of your neck to angle you for a deeper kiss. You open your mouth, allowing the blonde to intertwine his tongue with yours.
"You're so fucking pretty," Sebastian mumbles shakily as he continues to place more marks on your neck, taking advantage of a sweet spot as you moan in surprise. "She's so fucking beautiful, Ominis."
"Yeah?" Ominis responds breathlessly as he pulls away for a moment before diving in for more. "Of course, she is."
Your hands find their way into their respective hairs. Gripping the roots tightly as you pull them closer to you. The two groan in pleasure. The three of you continue to make out before Ominis pulls you back with a tug on your hair.
"On your knees, baby." He licks his lips, savoring your taste on his lips. "Suck Sebastian off."
You pant as you look back at the brunette behind you who looks at you two with lust in his eyes. Sebastian smiles smugly. "You heard the man."
You giggle before rising from his lap, placing a chaste kiss on Sebastian's lips before kneeling in between his legs. Ominis moves to your left as you unbuckle his slacks before pulling down to expose his member, watching as it slapped heavily in between his thighs. Taking his cock in your hands, you gather your drool in your tongue before dripping it down your mouth as a form of lubricant. You perform swift up-and-down motions to start it off.
"Fuck, that's it." Sebastian moans as he runs his hands through your disheveled hair. Ominis listens to his moans before feeling his way up Sebastian's shoulder and finding it's way into his curls. He grips his hair and crane his head towards him. Sebastian moans loudly at Ominis's hold on him.
"Tell me what she looks like," Ominis whispers into his ear as he places wet kisses on his jaw before biting his earlobe. He then harshly pushes his head down towards you which gives you a signal to start using your mouth on him. You lean down to take his cock in your mouth, bobbing your head up and down as you use your hands to take what you can't fit in.
Sebastian chokes his moan as he feels Ominis's grip on his head become tighter. "S-She's taking it all in. Like a good fucking girl."
Ominis hums at his response. You look up towards Sebastian innocently as you pull slightly back, sucking on his tip before you twirl your tongue around it like a lollipop.
"F-fuck— Ah. She— She looks so perfect with my cock in her— A-ah! I-In her mouth. Look's so fucking pretty— Merlin's beard." Sebastian stumbles over his words as you bob your head faster. Ominis smirks against Sebastian's cheek before he speaks parseltongue into the brunette's ear. You feel the shiver and twitch of Sebastian's hips as his face becomes flushed red at Ominis's hypnotic speaking of the language of snakes.
It seems as if Sebastian enjoyed it too much as a hand wraps itself around his neck, gripping it tight as Ominis continues to speak in tongues to his ear. Sebastian whimpers, eyes rolling back before the blonde moves his grip on his neck to his jaw to pull him into a deep kiss.
You moan at the sight of the two making out, encouraging you to give the best fucking head Sebastian Sallow has ever fucking had in his life. With a twist of your hand and fast bobs of your head, Sebastian archs his back in sensitivity, breaking away from his kiss with Ominis. His body curls as he grips your hair, pulling you away from his dick.
"F-fuck wait." Sebastian whines as he pants, not handling the intense pleasure from your mouth on his dick and Ominis's mouth on his, especially the fucking parseltongue. He almost came in your mouth if it weren't for his swift reaction. You twist your hand over his tip to tease him. He then transfers his hand from your hair to your neck, gripping it firmly. "I said wait. Can't follow simple fucking instructions. Get up."
You whimper as Sebastian pulls you up from the floor through the grip on your neck before moving his hands to grip the back of your thighs to carry up you and wrap them against his waist. He settles you down on the desk before pushing you back to lie down on it. Ominis moves to the other side of the desk where your head is placed. The two make haste on pulling your clothes off of you, leaving you bare and naked on the wooden surface.
"Fucking gorgeous," Sebastian mutters under his breath as he runs his hands on your thighs before pulling them apart to stare at your pussy. Ominis runs his hands on your chest, groping your breasts into his hands. The blonde groans at the feeling of your body within his grasp. He remembers dreaming of this very moment and it's now within the palms of his hands (literally).
Sebastian pushes your thighs up against your chest and you whine in embarrassment at the exposing position. Sebastian chuckles at your sudden shy behavior. "Don't worry, it'll pass. I'll make sure of it."
You could barely process Ominis's groping on your upper body before you feel Sebastian's tongue on your cunt. You gasp at the sudden feeling which makes Ominis smile.
"Sebastian, wait—"
"I told you to wait awhile ago, why would I do that?" Sebastian retorts before diving in and devouring your pussy like a man finally quenching his thirst. His tongue licks back and forth on your clit before sucking it. He then presses the flat of his tongue, moving it up and down before using the tip and move in circular motions. He slurps the juices dripping out of your pussy, moaning at the taste. The vibration of his moan causes you to moan loudly in pleasure.
"Sebastian— Oh fuck! fuck.. fuck!" You pant as you grip Ominis's arms, taking what Sebastian's giving. "Don't stop, please please please please!"
"Yeah?" Ominis leans down to caress your face, feeling the tears drip down the side of your face. "Little dove crying because you feel too good, hm? Poor girl."
You sob as Sebastian continues to assault your pussy with his tongue. Pleasure courses through your veins as the brunette between your legs manhandle you into the position he desires. Ominis basks in the sounds of your moans and the wet and messy slurps of Sebastian's work. His cock twitches against his pants. He eases the pain by using his free hand to rub against the front of his slacks. You look up at Ominis who continues to caress your face. "Ominis..."
"Hm?"
"Kiss me." You whine softly as you feel a knot slowly build up in your stomach. Sebastian continues to eat you up and a building pressure reveals itself in the process. Ominis smiles at you before leaning to place a kiss on your lips, upside down. He swallows your moans of pleasure as he pushes in his tongue, slowly and passionately kissing you deeply.
Sebastian glances up from his position, furrowing his eyebrows at the loss of your pathetic moaning. He smirks as he sees you focused on kissing Ominis before deciding to take matters into his own hands. He moves up to your clit, focusing the attention of his tongue there before adding the usage of his hand, gently rubbing the entrance of your cunt. You gasp at the sensation before yelping at the insertion of a finger inside.
"Ah!" You pull away from Ominis in the process as Sebastian eases his fingers into you. The brunette glances at the blonde with a smirk and a light chuckle. Ominis definitely heard that.
"Feel good, pretty girl?" Sebastian hums against the side of your thigh as he watches his finger go in and out of you before adding another one. You let out a measly moan in response. "I need to hear an answer."
"M-Mhm." You moaned out as he begins to curl his fingers up, pushing it deep within you. Sebastian pushes back against your clit, sucking it and licking it well for you. The sensation of his tongue and fingers begin to bring you closer to the edge. "Oh, fuck."
"Close?" Ominis whispers as he leans down against your ear. You let out short breaths as you feel the knot slowly unravel. Sebastian enters another finger as he speeds up the process. His fingers begin to reach depths even yours couldn't reach. It felt so fucking good as the tips of his fingers brush against a sensitive spot within you that jolts your back into an arch. It was there yet it wasn't. Sebastian's tongue flicks and sucks faster against your clit as you descend rapidly into the madness.
"Let me cum, please. please." You whined as your hand reaches up to intertwine with Ominis's locks. The blonde torments you from above as he sucks marks alongside Sebastian's work during his time on your neck from awhile ago.
"Go ahead, pretty girl," Ominis whispers in your ear alongside Sebastian's ministrations. The knot unravels fast as your body shakes violently in their care. Your orgasm is hard and slow as Sebastian does his best to lengthen it, your thighs crushing his head close against your heat. You let out long and loud moans as your body rises from the desk in the process. Ominis grabs you against his chest, kissing the side of your head softly as Sebastian continues his assault between your thighs, making sure to slurp every last bit of your release. "There you go."
"Stop, stop!" You reach a hand down, trying to push his face away from your heat. You let out a small laugh from the sensitivity as he continues to mouth your cunt.
"Tastes so fucking good," Sebastian growls as he pulls away, lips red and chin dripping with your arousal. He places a gentle kiss on your clit as you twitch in sensitivity at the action before kissing his way upwards and pulling you into a deep kiss. Your tongues intertwine as your back rests against Ominis's chest. The blonde's hand runs through Sebastian's locks, gently petting his head as the two of you kiss. His free hand moves to where your lips are connected, probing his index finger within your tongue as he tries to feel you two kiss. Ominis lets out a shaky sigh at the feel of your tongues moving against one another before you two pull away.
The brunette looks up at you with a smile. "How'd you want us?"
You take a breath as Sebastian places a chaste kiss on your cheek while Ominis places one on the side of your head. "Ominis inside. You get my mouth. He's been on the sidelines for way too long."
Sebastian nods with a cheeky grin. "Got no complaints there."
Ominis places a kiss on your forehead as he helps you up before exchanging places with Sebastian. The brunette sits on the desk as you stand between them with Ominis behind you. You hear the rustling of clothes behind you before turning around to look. Ominis had taken off his coat and bottoms, leaving him bare from the waist down. His cock slaps heavily up against his stomach, dripping pre-cum from the amount of waiting he had done. Throughout your sexual escapade, Ominis opted to listen in on your and Sebastian's pleasure than himself. He was more of a observer, preferred ordering the two of you and revel in the moans and pants pulled by pleasure. You take a note to spoil him further in the future.
He pulls you back against his chest as he moves close to you and Sebastian. The brunette cups your cheek, placing a peck on your lips before he travels his hand to the top of your head and pushing you down gently to his cock. You eagerly use your mouth to pleasure him, slipping it inside and try to take him all in.
"Damn, fuck. Can never get used to this. Your mouth is a fucking haven, baby." Sebastian curses as he feels the tip of his cock reaches the back of your throat. You choke slightly at the deepness of his dick before bobbing up and then down, forming a rhythm. The brunette tilts his head back in pleasure, letting out soft moans as his fingers tighten within your locks. Ominis listens in on his moans as he uses his wand to conjure a lubricating charm before pumping his dick for a bit of stimulation. He lets out a moan before pressing the his cock against your folds.
You moan at the feeling of a new sensation against your heat. Ominis places a hand on his shaft, rubbing the tip against your folds. He slides it against your clit, moving it in circular motions and hears your appreciative moan. His free hand then grabs your waist as leverage before finally positioning the tip against your entrance. "I'm pushing in, love."
You hum against Sebastian's dick in response before feeling the pressure of Ominis's cock split you open. He was a bit longer than Sebastian but the brunette was thicker. The two were already considered big and the moment that you felt the two of them inside you made you all the more conscious of their size. You whimper against Sebastian's cock, unable to move as Ominis continues to slide in his cock.
Sebastian glances down at your tear-stricken face, eyes closed and eyebrows furrowed in pleasure. Ominis bottoms out with a groan, letting you adjust for a moment before beginning to move. The jostle of Ominis's hips propels your forward causing Sebastian's dick to go deeper inside your mouth.
"Yeah. Liked getting fucked by Ominis?" Sebastian taunts as he brushes your hair away from your face. A bruising grip on your hips that you're sure will mark you in the morning, pulls you back with every thrust. Ominis's cock reaches depths farther than Sebastian's fingers, the curve of his dick and the ridges alongside it brushes deliciously against the soft walls of your pussy.
You moan in response as Sebastian begins to move his hips, thrusting into your mouth. You choke as you feel his throat touch the back of your throat once again.
"Support her upper body." Ominis orders. Sebastian places a hand on your shoulders as Ominis grabs both of your hands, twisting them against your lower back, holding them both with one hand as he suspends your upper body in the air with Sebastian's help. The position allows you to be completely at their mercy as Sebastian fucks your mouth at this point and Ominis's thrusts go deeper, faster and harsher.
You can only shriek and moan against Sebastian's cock as you take what they give you. Sebastian feels his release fast approaching, hips stuttering. "Holy fuck, I'm close."
You allow him to use your mouth as he pleases, thrusting fast into your mouth as he moans loudly at the process. Ominis leans down, placing a kiss on your shoulder before growling in your ear. "Don't waste a single fucking drop."
His deep voice sends a shiver down your spine and it seems as if Sebastian also heard it. The brunette releases with a choked moan, spurting his release into your mouth. He moans as his hips jerk in sensitivity, emptying it all before slumping on the desk. You swallow it all before coughing, finally being able to breathe.
Ominis takes this as an opportunity to fuck you harder.
"O-Ominis!" Your voice raises in pitch as his hips hammer against yours. He releases your arms, opting to pull you up against his chest. His hands busy themselves with your breasts as he grunts into the crook of your neck. "O-Oh fuck. Right there."
Sebastian smiles lazily as he watches his best friend rail you to the point that your eyes roll back in pleasure. To give you a more pleasurable experience, he raises a hand to wrap his fingers around your throat, gripping it with enough pressure to hear you whine and moan.
"Yeah, that's fucking right baby. Sebastian's choking you again? You love that shit." Ominis growls against your ear as he pounds your tight pussy. He angles his hips to hit that spot that Sebastian grazed over with his fingers, pulling louder moans from you. Your eyes lock with Sebastian's as Ominis fucks you from behind.
"Pretty girl's crying because you're fucking her too good." Sebastian laughs as he leans forward to kiss your tears away. Ominis chuckles against your neck. You could feel your release fast approaching as a hand makes it's way down to where you're connected.
"Mm, stretched so fucking well for me." Ominis hums before moving to your clit and circling it fast deliciously. Your moans get louder.
"Ominis, Sebastian!" You whine as you feel your release fast approaching. Sebastian tightens his grip on your throat making your moans choked as Ominis fucks you faster and deeper.
Already feeling the edge of his release, Ominis rubs faster as his hips stutter. His pace becomes harder and harsher. "Cum baby. Cum."
You let out a high-pitched whine before finally reaching your climax. Your knees shake, almost giving you up before Ominis grips you up, supporting you against his chest. You let out loud moans as your orgasm wreaks havoc throughout your body in violent shakes. Tears stream down your face at the intensity of your release and Sebastian smiles at the beauty of it all. Ominis continues to pump his cock inside, reaching for his release. "Where?"
"Inside. I-I'm on the potion. Please, cum inside." You moan as you lock eyes once again with Sebastian, his grip loosening from your neck as he pulls you into a kiss. Ominis grunts before releasing inside. He moans loudly, bottoming out as he orgasms. "Good girl."
You rest your upper body in Sebastian's embrace, waiting for Ominis to finish before whimpering as the blonde pulls out. Ominis runs a hand down to your cunt before pushing the cum back in. Sebastian chuckles as he hears you let out another weak moan.
There's a moment of comfortable silence as you three catch you breath from the amount of strenuous activities you've done in the past few hours.
"Damn, that was probably the best sex of my life." Sebastian chuckles, breaking the silence as he pulls you fully into his embrace. You rest your head on the crook of his neck while Ominis runs a hand through his hair.
"I'm so tired." You groan in exhaustion. "I'm not moving a single fucking muscle. This is both of your fault."
"Me too? It's Ominis who you should be blaming. The man was railing you to fucking oblivion." Sebastian jests which receives a harsh smack on the back of his head. You chuckle at the crisp sound of Ominis's palm hitting Sebastian's head.
"You literally fucked my throat. Sore throats are a bitch to cure." You weakly pull away from Sebastian's embrace, feeling the ache on your ass. Ominis notices your discomfort from your grunts of pain.
"Did I go too far?" The blonde shyly asks. You turn to look at him with a soft smile. You had the hardest and best fucking orgasm of your life and now this man was acting all shy and cute after he had just practically destroyed any other chance of another person reaching that kind of level with you. You couldn't really blame him after he had just ascended you to a different realm with his dick. Sebastian helps you up before you place a kiss on Ominis's lips.
"Don't worry. I loved it." You reassure him. Sebastian and Ominis help you get dressed before the two focus on their garments. Sebastian casts a cleaning charm to any suspicious fluids that might have touched any surface while Ominis casts Reparo to the destroyed piles of paper scattered on the floor (a product of their haste to fuck you moments ago).
There's a moment of silence after cleaning up as the three of you stand, fully clothed in the empty office space. This time, Ominis makes the first move. "I assume from all that's happened that you know we're still pretty much in touch with our feelings for you."
Sebastian looks at you, assessing your facial expressions as you looked at them both. Sebastian continues. "This can be a one-time thing if you don't want to delve deeper into it. We also don't mind if you prefer one over the other. Our friendship will remain intact, that I assure you."
You look at them both as their body language speaks of nervousness and fear of rejection. You doubt your friendship will ever be fixed if you chose one of them. You roll your eyes playfully. "I literally just got fucked by both of you and you're telling me to choose one?"
"I— well." Ominis tries to reason. Sebastian is silent for a moment before shrugging in agreement.
"I mean she's got a point." The brunette chuckles. You limp towards them, Sebastian's hand reaching out for you while Ominis's arm wraps around your waist.
"I assume you're choosing us both, correct?" Ominis clarifies. You chuckle at his need for reassurance before reaching up to place a kiss on his lips before turning to Sebastian to give him one as well.
"Yes. I am." You firmly answer. Ominis lets out a smile while Sebastian laughs softly. "Now please apparate me home, I'm not walking another fucking corridor after what you guys put me through."
"Yes Ma'am."
A/N: ITS DONE OFMHDHDH this took way too long but I had fun writing it. It's my first time writing filth and I hope it was up to satisfaction 😭🧎♂️🫶 will probs cringe at this in the future. TYSM.
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Learning to Live Part 20
summary: Javier has a shitty first day at his new job—thankfully, you thought ahead and planned some surprises that will turn it all around.
rating: E (18+! No y/n, age gap (around 10 years), Soft Javier Peña, alternating pov, unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), creampie, (massive) breeding kink, sneaking around (secretly fucking in a house full of people), dirty talk, spanking, praise kink, domestic fluff, family fluff, family bonding, PTSD (panic attack), food as a metaphor for love, emotional hurt/comfort, hanging out with Chucho and fam, Javier in love, Javier saying very romantic things in Spanish, Javier holding a baby, baby fever)
pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader
a/n: Hello there! This is a very important chapter that I literally hammered out in less than two weeks (I don’t know how I did it). We meet some new characters, and there’s a lot of Chucho content. It’s also very plot heavy. Thank you to the love of my life @juletheghoul for betaing. You're the best!
word count: 22k (this is who I am)
Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to know what you thought!
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The Webb County Sheriff’s Office was located in the heart of downtown Laredo, a hulking two-story building with a tan stucco exterior and grey metal lettering on the front declaring, ‘Sheriff’s Office.’ Their jurisdiction spanned over three thousand miles and was the largest in southern Texas—whereas the Laredo Police Department only handled the town itself.
Javier had opinions about the local police.
None of them were good, seeing as the department’s Chief for the last twenty-something years has been Lorraine’s other uncle.
If it seemed like her family was everywhere, that was because they fucking were.
Her father’s side, the Smiths, have lived in the area going back generations and were the wealthiest family in Laredo, all thanks to the large transportation company her great-grandfather started back in the early 1900s. Their family made a name for themselves and were known for their philanthropy and pursuits to better the town—at least, that was true before her father took over the company from her grandfather and used all of the good his predecessors had done as a means to run for Mayor, making what turned out to be empty promises after he was elected.
He wasn’t the worst Mayor in Laredo’s history, but he wasn’t the best, either.
The philanthropic endeavors decreased when the business was handed over to her dad, who was more concerned with filling the family’s pockets, yet they still remained the town’s biggest benefactor and were held in somewhat high regard. The Smiths were well known, and two out of his three brothers had notable careers in town: one was the Chief of police, another had been a judge down at the courthouse before he was nominated by President George H. W. Bush to work on the federal level, and then, of course, there was Javier’s former barber.
Lorraine also had siblings and a hell of a lot of cousins who still lived in Laredo, so her family was fucking everywhere, much to his annoyance. He did his best to avoid them at all costs, especially if Cielito was with him. Javier was pretty sure there would be a physical altercation if she saw his ex, which made him smile, but it also meant he had to be on high alert when they were out and about. He was proud of how good he’d gotten at distracting her to keep them from crossing paths, usually feigning interest in a nearby store or restaurant. There was also the time they hadn’t even left his truck yet, and he’d spotted Lorraine down the street, so he kissed his girlfriend and made out with her for a solid five minutes to make sure the coast was clear—that one was his favorite.
Thankfully, none of the Smiths worked for the Sheriff.
There were five minutes to spare when he arrived at the office downtown, spending the first hour with the only Human Resources employee, Juana, a lovely older woman, half his size who kept calling him ‘Guapo (Handsome)’ and trying to wheedle his mom’s tamale recipe out of him. He’d filled out all of the necessary paperwork, frowning when he had to mark ‘Single’ on many of the forms. He got his picture taken and badge made, Juana commenting it was ‘Guapísimo (Very handsome),’ and he couldn’t wait to show Cielito to see her reaction, wearing it around his neck on a black lanyard. Then the older woman gave him a tour of the building, the only places of interest to him being the supply room, conference room, records room, evidence room, and where the nearest pot of coffee was located to his new office, which was their final stop.
Most of the people who worked here, he either knew or knew of, and they were all very aware of who he was if the looks and whispers he ignored were anything to go by.
His office wasn’t anything special and didn’t compare in the slightest to what he’d had in Colombia. It was small, with room enough for a cherry wood L-shaped desk against one wall, his desk chair putting the door in his line of sight, two chairs in front of it, and two bookcases behind it on either side of the window that had a breathtaking view of the parking lot. A computer was atop the reddish-brown hardwood, the bulky thing situated against the wall. A typewriter, which was more his speed, was on the other side near the edge, and a landline office phone between them in the corner. Aside from those three things, everything else was bare and empty—his plan was to raid the supply room, which could more accurately be described as a closet, for all the shit he needed.
He was standing just inside the door and finally alone, shuffling the stuff in his hands to free one up to grab the door handle and pull it forward to look at the other side, smiling when he saw there was a lock. Making his way around the desk, he set the things in his hand down on top of it, pulling out the chair and taking a seat.
The first item did not belong to him, and he’d never be caught dead with it, which was a fucking lie since it was sitting on his desk—The Empire Strikes Back Metal Lunch box was blue with art of Han, Leia, Chewie, and C-3PO in the Millennium Falcon cockpit, and did belong to his girlfriend, who’d packed his lunch the night before. She realized they hadn’t gotten him a lunch bag of his own, so she handed him this fucking thing at the door, giving him a kiss and a smack to the ass, telling him to have a good day.
He moved it off the desk and down behind it on the floor where it wouldn’t be seen.
The other two items were small black-bordered picture frames, setting the first one up: a picture of him and Cielito in his dad’s backyard, her standing in front of him with his arms wrapped around her chest, her hands holding them to her, his head beside hers as they smiled at the camera, the happiness clear on their faces. He put the second one next to it that had a Polaroid he’d taken while they made dinner one night in their kitchen of her grinning brightly at the camera and looking unbelievably adorable in his Fleetwood Mac shirt.
They made him smile, his mind going back to that morning and how fucking good it was. He sighed softly, touching the knot around his throat. He loved having her watch and help him get ready, then seeing how much it turned her on when he was dressed, wishing every morning was like that—the woman he loved choosing his outfit and keeping him company. They usually got dressed together, sometimes even asking each other opinions on what to wear, but it had never been like today. He wanted to look good for her, he wanted to wear what she wanted, he wanted to do something so simple to make her happy.
Then there were the things she did to him that had his slacks suddenly feeling a bit tight.
Javier felt like such a dick for arguing with her. He doesn’t know what came over him except that he didn’t think it was fair that only he was getting off—which was dumb because they both had times when they just wanted to pleasure the other without getting anything in return.
Fuck, her mouth, her tits. He looked at the Polaroid and her breasts under his shirt. She was so fucking beautiful between his knees, fucking him with them and letting him come all over her chest. Coming inside her was his favorite, but seeing her painted in his spend was a close second… Unless he could finish in her ass. His brain shortcircuited for a second, imagining how fucking tight she’d be while he filled her, and if she orgasmed at the same time, she’d tense up and squeeze his dic—
There was a low whistle from the door, a familiar deep voice saying, “Te tiene loco esa muchacha, se te sale la baba (That girl’s got you going crazy, you’re drooling).”
Javier frowned, his cheeks heating, clearing his throat as he looked at the older man standing in the doorway. He didn’t get up from his chair since his cock was at half-mast, confirming he was, in fact, crazy about her.
The newcomer had a similar build to his dad, the short cropped hair on his head and around his mouth grey with age, wearing the Webb County Sheriff Department uniform of a khaki short sleeve button up and army green pants with a yellow stripe down the sides, the golden Sheriff star badge pinned to his chest, glittering in the lights.
Unrelated to him, Sheriff Arturo López was about his age when he was elected into office back in the 70s. He was the county’s longest-serving Sheriff, and for good reason: he was an honorable man. Javier was very aware of this because he’s known him his whole life; Arturo was a good friend of his father’s.
“You’re as annoying as Pop,” he grumbled, straightening in his seat. “He’s told you about her?”
The other man’s face lit up, walking into the room to stand behind one of the chairs in front of the desk, resting both hands on the back.
“Talks about her and you—” His finger was directed at Javier. “—all the damn time. When I went out to the ranch last week, he showed me all of the pictures he took last month on his birthday with that fancy new camera you got him.”
He and Cielito had celebrated with his dad by barbecuing at the ranch. Daphne and Velma were in attendance; the two calves he’d practically raised, whom they affectionately called their bovine children, were given apples as treats, happily lying in the sun or chewing on the grass with their humans nearby. Chucho loved Cielito’s cooking almost as much as Javier did and had requested a peach pie for his birthday, which she, of course, made for him, much to his delight—he wouldn’t shut up about how much he loved it, and that was completely understandable, it was a really fucking good pie; so good, in fact, that Javier had stolen an extra piece before they’d left for the night. The picture of them on his desk was from that day, Cielito looking beautiful in a lavender-colored dress that he’d managed to match his button-up to—his eyes went back to it, thinking they looked so good together.
Perfect.
“¿Me oyes o que (Can you hear me or what)?” Arturo said a little louder, snapping his fingers to get his attention. Javier immediately looked up at him, seeing the other man was amused.
“Shit, sorry,” Javier replied, running a hand through his hair.
Arturo chuckled. “Tu papá tenía razón (Your dad was right). Estás arrebatado (You’re completely enraptured).” He slid a chair out and sat down, kicking his feet up on the desk’s edge.
His jaw ticked, annoyance creeping up on him, saying, “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’ve got it bad—are you here to give me shit about it, or are we going to discuss the scope of this job you’ve been on my ass about since I got back?”
The other man huffed out a breath, his face going serious, putting his hands up in a placating gesture. “Your dad also said you get very defensive about it—tu novia (your girlfriend) is off limits. I read you loud and clear.” He put his feet down, sitting up in his seat, his eyes on Javier’s. “Remember when I offered you a job when you graduated from A&M?” he asked.
Javier did—it was his backup plan if swimming hadn’t panned out. He’d wanted to get into law enforcement, and it would’ve been a good start, but then Lorraine fucked that up for him, too, since he had to get the hell out of Laredo.
“Yeah?” he answered.
“I saw your potential all those years ago—determination in your eyes to do something good and look at what you did in South America.”
Javier scoffed.
A crease appeared between the Sheriff’s eyes. “You know you’re a hero, right?” he asked.
Javier’s elbows were on the desk, his fingers laced in front of him. “I’m no hero.” He shook his head. “I just did my fucking job, and that’s it. Not like any of it mattered, anyway—the war on drugs will never fucking end.”
“On a large scale? No, there will always be drug trafficking, but things can be done here at home to crack down on it and keep our community safe.”
His eyebrow rose. “That’s why you need me?”
The older man smiled. “Partially.” He shrugged. “I’m sure you’re aware of the drug smuggling problems we’re having here in Laredo?”
He nodded.
Arturo continued, “We know it’s coming into Laredo and then being distributed out to the bigger cities—we’ve got a whole narcotics unit, and they’ve done some decent busts throughout the county, but things can turn violent quick. You know how it is, people have drugs—”
“They’ll have weapons,” he cut him off, nodding.
They have to protect their cargo.
“Well, our current strategies aren’t making much difference, and even with some wins, it’s not enough. You personally took out the Colombians, and with them gone, the Mexican cartels have been taking advantage, and things have gotten bad, and that’s why I needed you to take this job. I need a new set of eyes. I need your expertise.” He pointed at Javier. “I need you to make sure we’re not overlooking anything. I want you to work with the team and make a better plan of attack. Have you kept up on the Mexican cartels?”
He has. Steve still works for the DEA in Florida and updates him about the goings on in South America and Mexico on their weekly calls.
“Yeah.”
“Good, we know they’re supplying.”
“Of course they are. So, you want me to look over the situation here, consult, and help plan? Can I meet the head of the narcotics unit?”
“You’re the head of the narcotics unit.”
His eyes widened, taken aback. “...what?”
That definitely wasn’t in the job description—he was supposed to be here for informational purposes only, training people, consulting, not running a team. He promised Cielito this would be an office job, and he absolutely would not go back on his word to her; he’d quit first and work somewhere else; hell, his alma mater, had put out feelers on if he’d like to teach. Anger was bubbling in his belly that this was turning out to be a fucking bait and switch, the Sheriff putting way more responsibility on him than he agreed to.
His face pinched in anger, glaring at the other man, his voice low, menacing, not brokering any room for argument, “When you pitched me this job, you said I’d be consulting, bringing in my knowledge and training people, shit like that. I didn’t sign up to head a fucking unit. I promised my girl this job would be nothing like the fucking DEA.”
“Cálmate (Calm down), Javi, it isn’t.” The Sheriff waved away his concern. “I’m sorry for springing it on you like this. I thought you’d like to be in charge since you wanted a desk job, and that’s what it is, a desk job—you’ll never see any action. You don’t even need a gun. You’ve got a lot of experience we could benefit from, so it makes sense you’d be the best person to lead and advise them. You’d help them do their jobs better.”
Javier had the upper hand here—the other man needed him more than he needed this job.
His eyes narrowed. “I don’t want the fucking responsibility of running a team—if that’s the case, I’m walking out that fucking door.” He jutted his finger toward it.
Arturo frowned, sighing deeply as he crossed his arms over his chest.
“Fine,” he said. “We’ll forget the title. I’ll assign one of the other guys as the leader. You’ll consult—look into the situation here, help train, and plan. Is that better?”
“Yes.” He nodded. “I am not in charge of them, is that understood?”
The other man sighed again. “Yes, Javi. You’re not in charge—no responsibility for them.” He leaned forward, offering his hand. “Do we have a deal?”
“Yeah,” he replied, shaking the offered palm.
“Good,” the Sheriff said. “Welcome aboard.” He got up from his chair. “The team is scheduled to meet with you at one in the conference room for introductions—they’re expecting you.” He was walking toward the door, stopping before he exited to look at Javier over his shoulder. “There’s one other part of your job I forgot to mention.”
Javier let out a loud breath, feeling beyond annoyed. “What’s that?”
“You’ll be the point of contact for the DEA when they come knocking—I’ve got Southern Texas’ largest county to worry about. I don’t have time for their bullshit.”
He scoffed. “You’re joking.”
“I’m serious. I’m glad you’re here, Javi. Thank you for doing this,” he said as he left the room.
“Fuck,” Javier breathed, pressing his face into his hands.
Did he make a fucking mistake taking this job? He felt like he’d bit off way more than he could chew. He was starting to get a headache, reminding himself that this wouldn’t be anything like the DEA; he wasn’t going after cartels, he wasn’t having to put his life at risk, he was keeping his promise to Cielito, and that was all that fucking mattered.
Thinking of her, he remembered the day before when they were eating breakfast, hearing her voice clear in his mind saying, ‘...since you love challenges, you should dig into a problem…’
Find a problem to solve.
What was going on in Mexico wasn’t his problem; that was for the feds to worry about; what was a big fucking problem to him were drugs somehow making it past heavy border patrol and DEA intervention, but could he solve it?
The woman he loved was into that astrology shit, and the stars, or whatever the fuck, seemed to want him to.
Jesus Christ, was he really taking advice from something somebody probably pulled out of their ass?
He thought about it more rationally.
Laredo was his home, even if he wanted to leave it with his girlfriend most of the time. He had Cielito and his dad here; one day, they’d have children. Did he want to bring their kids into a world where there was a possibility of danger? He was remembering Colombia and the horrible shit he’d seen when drug busts went sideways, and innocent people got caught in the crossfire. What if Cielito was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and something happened to her? His memories of South America were fueling the worst-case scenarios playing out in his head of things that could happen to her or their future kids, his heart starting to pound in his chest, dread feeling like lead in the pit of his stomach.
He was beginning to panic as he thought of the potential consequences if he didn’t do this. He needed to keep his family safe; he had to make sure their home was safe, needing to protect his future wife and their future children.
What if I fail to protect them like I failed others before?
His breaths were coming out quick, the room suddenly going dark around the edges, it feeling stifling—he couldn’t breathe.
With it being the beginning of August in Southern Texas, it was barely ten a.m. and already scorching hot outside.
After sending Javi off to work with the coolest lunch box that he sighed really loudly at taking, a kiss and a smack to his ass, you’d showered, putting on some black bicycle shorts and the white t-shirt you’d gotten at a Prince concert the year prior. It had his symbol on the front with ‘The “Jam of the Year” World Tour 97/98.’ written on it, wanting to wear comfortable clothes since you’d be cooking all day—something that required you to leave your apartment.
But not to go to a store… yet.
The air conditioning was turned up as high as it would go in your car, Salt-N-Pepa playing loudly over the whirring of it as you drove down the road.
Ringing sounded in the passenger seat from the cell phone in your purse Javi got you when he moved in; you hadn’t wanted it, but the man worried about you getting stranded on the side of the road, or having an emergency, so to mollify him you’d accepted it.
Your eyes stayed on the road as you reached into your bag, fumbling around until you found the hard plastic Nokia phone that seemed practically indestructible. Pulling it out, you turned down the radio, the screen on the cellphone glowing green showing Javi was calling—which was a surprise, immediately hitting the answer button.
“Hey, babe!” you greeted, driving one-handed.
“Talk to me,” he said between heavy breaths, sounding like he’d been running.
It made you frown, worry curling in your gut that something was wrong.
“Javi, what’s going on?”
“Talk, please.” There was desperation in his tone, understanding he needed you to calm him down.
“Okay, um, gosh, I am so sorry for this stream of consciousness, it’s going to be unfiltered, just straight brain to mouth,” you rambled. “I’m driving right now and wearing those tight, stretchy shorts that I swear to fucking god are a magnet for your hands—you know the ones. Like, you smack my ass so much in these that I know if I’m within reach of you, I’m getting spanked—which, I’m only telling you this because you’re, you know, but I love when you do it so much—I love you, too, a lot, an insane amount, and I can’t wait to see you, so I can give you a big hug and smother your face in kisses—just smooches all over that sexy mug of yours. Um, I hope you’ll like the dinner I’m making—it’s gonna test my skills, and I’m excited to attempt it; hopefully, it’ll be edible.”
His breaths were beginning to even out, continuing to speak your thoughts, “I’m super worried about you right now since you’re calling me before your lunch and needing me to talk. So, just focus on my voice, baby—you’re gonna get through this. Breathe, you’re okay, and it’s gonna pass—everything is okay. Um, fuck, what else can I talk about, oh! I really liked that movie we rented Friday before last—the one with Harrison Ford? It was honestly so on point that the woman fell in love with him while stranded on that deserted island—how could you not fall in love with Pilot Harrison Ford? Which, I mean I wouldn’t—” you added quickly. “—I’ve already got a hunky, grumpy man I’m disgustingly in love with, thank you very much, and Harrison Ford can kick rocks—you’re my hunky, grumpy man, I’m disgustingly in love with if that wasn’t clear, and if I got stranded somewhere I know you’d find me—I don’t know how you’d do it, but you would. I know I said it already, but I love you, Javi—I love you so much sometimes I feel like I’m going to combust—”
“I love you, too,” his voice was barely above a whisper.
“There you are,” you replied, smiling in relief at hearing him. “Feel better?”
“Yes.” He audibly swallowed. “Sorry for bothering you.”
“You’re not bothering me, and you’d never bother me, Javi. I love you.”
“I love you, too—I fucking knew you wear those shorts on purpose.” The smile was evident in his voice.
You giggled. “Kinda. They’re just really comfy.”
“Uh-huh, right. I’m also happy to be your hunky, grumpy man you’re disgustingly in love with.”
“Good, ‘cause you are.” The reason he called had you sobering up, asking, “Javi, do you want to talk about what happened?”
He sighed. “The, uh, smuggling problem is worse than I thought, and I started thinking about if something happened to you or our kids, and it, uh—”
“Triggered a panic attack,” you finished for him. “Javi,” you said softly. “It’s your first day, and you already had a panic attack. Are you sure you should be doing this job?”
“I promise, I’m okay—it won’t happen again.”
“You can’t know that.”
“I know,” he sighed again.
“You can quit and go back to work with your dad on the ranch while you look for another job that won’t be so triggering.”
“I know… But I want to do this.”
A frown was on your face again. When he told you he’d gotten a job with the Sheriff, you’d been worried it’d make him miserable and lead to him resenting you. He was adamant that wouldn’t happen, and his new work wouldn’t be anything like the DEA, promising you it was just an office job, but with this phone call, your worries were back. He’d been there—you glanced at the clock on your radio—two hours, and he’d already had a panic attack—it didn’t bode well that his PTSD was acting up. Then there was the determination in his tone, hearing how he felt like this was something he had to do, and it made you feel uneasy.
“Okay,” you replied. If this was what he wanted, you wouldn’t fight him on it. “But if this happens again, you call me.”
“I will.”
“Promise me, Javier—don’t hide it from me.”
“I promise, Cielito. I won’t keep it from you.”
“Thank you. Now, do you need me to come down there right now? It’d take me like twenty minutes.”
“No, baby.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. I’m okay.”
“Alright. How’s your first day so far?”
“The woman from HR kept calling me guapo, but I think she was just saying it to get mi mamá’s tamale recipe.”
You snorted. “Eres guapísimo (You’re very handsome). ¿Ella tuvo éxito (Did she succeed)?”
He chuckled. “No, Cielito. No se lo diré a nadie excepto a ti (I won’t tell anyone except you).”
“I don’t know why, but that’s very romantic, and I’m touched.”
“Ella hubiera querido que lo tuvieras (She would’ve wanted you to have it).”
You were smiling big.
“You have no idea how happy that makes me.”
“I should probably get back to work.” He sounded like he didn’t want to get off the phone.
“Wait, promise me, Javier, if this job gets to be too much or you feel yourself slipping back to how you were before, you’ll quit. Promise me.”
“I promise, Cielito—I pinky promise.”
“I’ll hold you to it. I love you. Call me on your lunch.”
“I love you, too, and I will.”
Goodbyes were said, the call ending, tossing the phone back into the passenger seat.
Chewing on your lip, your brain was stuck on Javi as you drove.
You really fucking hoped he’d be okay, but your boyfriend was stubborn, and when he put his mind to something, he didn’t let anything get in his way—including himself. It was one of his flaws, yet also a strength, that made him good at his job.
Colombia was a looming shadow, always following him around, and he still hadn’t shed a light on it for you. You knew the overview of his time there—he’d worked with Steve to help take down Pablo Escobar, but he’d fucked up and was sent home before they’d gotten the fucker; A lot of his informants were prostitutes that he’d slept with; He was sent back a second time and was put in charge, working his ass off to take down the Cali Cartel, and once he finished, he’d resigned from the DEA—and now he’d found another thing to put his mind to, and you were worried it would consume him.
You wouldn’t let him fall back into old habits and would talk to him and lay down some ground rules, the first being work stayed at work—when he came home, it was time for him to relax and forget about the day. It was what you did; it was how you survived being a busy emergency room nurse in a hospital in Dallas, where there was so much death. Once you clocked out for the day, your shift was over, and your worries over work ceased until you clocked back in for your next shift. There was no dwelling on things when you’d go home. If you did, you would’ve been miserable and the job much more difficult. You knew it would be really fucking hard for Javi to do, but you were determined to make sure he didn’t revert back to the miserable, depressed man he’d been in Colombia.
It wasn’t going to happen. Not if you had any say.
Your mind had been so preoccupied you suddenly found yourself at your destination, pulling into Chucho’s driveway, the gravel crunching under your tires, seeing him sitting in one of the two white rocking chairs on the porch, waiting for you with a big smile on his face. Pulling off to the side in front of the house and parking, you shoved your cell phone back into your purse, grabbing it and the little notebook from the passenger seat, and getting out, walking along the stone path in front of Javi’s mom’s beautiful flower garden, her husband still tended to.
“Buenos días, Mija (Good morning, Mija),” the older man greeted as he got up from his seat in jeans, a white short-sleeve button-up, and cowboy boots to hug you when you made it up the few stairs.
Smiling as you hugged him back, you replied, “Buenos días, Chucho.”
He let go of you, meeting your eyes with a happy grin. “The house smells amazing,” he said, moving over to the screen door, the springs screeching as he opened it for you, making your way inside the house.
“I hope it turned out amazing.” You were hit with the smell of cooking meat permeating in the air, heading toward the kitchen, the older man following you with the screen door slamming shut behind him.
“I’m sure it did.”
It warmed your heart how much faith he had in you, setting your purse and notebook down on the kitchen table to go look in the Crock Pot and finding the pork you put in it the night before was done. Turning it off, you smiled, seeing that Chucho had already set out a giant bowl and tongs for you to use. Grabbing the utensil, you looked over your shoulder, clicking them twice. “I see this isn’t your first rodeo—thank you,” you said.
He chuckled. “You’re welcome, Mija. It can cool while we go to the store.”
“Very true.”
Your attention moved back to the slow cooker, removing the lid and using the tongs to transfer the big pieces of meat into the bowl.
“How was your morning?” he asked.
Memories of Javi getting dressed came to you, your skin heating when you thought of the dirtier things you’d both done.
“Pretty good—your son let me choose his suit and tie,” you answered, moving another piece of pork.
“A good man.”
“The best, and we had a lovely breakfast before he went off to work.” You’d stood in the kitchen drinking coffee together, and he took a granola bar for the road. “How was yours?”
“Not bad. I made sure all of the pots and pans you’ll need are where I saw them last, and I extended the kitchen table so you have more room.”
You’d noticed it was bigger, going from being able to seat four to about six.
The last chunk of meat was put in the bowl, discarding the utensil into the sink as you said, “You are the fucking best, Chucho.”
“I’m just excited,” he laughed.
After unplugging the Crock Pot, you faced the older man. “I’m excited, too, and really fucking nervous.”
“You’re going to do great,” he reassured, making your heart clench.
“Thank you, Chucho. I really hope it’s good. Do you have aluminum foil?”
He pointed beside you. “Second drawer.”
“Thank you.” You got the foil out, tearing a piece to cover the bowl, putting it back where it belonged, and turning toward your boyfriend’s dad again.
“Okay,” you started. “So, I watched the video of Antonia’s instructions again this morning and tried to take some notes.” You put it on after Javi left, doing your best to write stuff down. Frowning, you continued, “You know I’m getting better at my Spanish, but there were some things I missed.”
He had a warm expression.
“Don’t stress, Mija. I watched and helped mi amor (my love) make her tamales so many times I’ve lost count. I may not know measurements or remember all the ingredients, but we’ve got her recipe cards we can use.” He gestured to the dining table next to him, where your things sat atop it beside a small oak wood dovetailed box that you knew when you opened the hinged lid, it contained his wife’s handwritten recipe cards.
The idea to make Javi’s mom’s famous tamales came to you while watching the home video of her explaining how they were made. You knew they were his favorite food, and wanted to make his first day at work special because, even though he acted like the job was no big deal, you still worried it’d fuck him up—which is exactly what happened, and now you were really happy he’d have your attempt at his mom’s tamales to comfort him.
There was nervousness about asking Chucho for permission. The recipe was a heavily guarded secret and something his wife was known for, and you were just some random woman dating his son. He’d been ecstatic when you called, though, telling you he’d get out Antonia’s recipe box for you to use, which was such a huge honor, you teared up.
The first time you got a chance to look inside the box was the night before when you brought over the pork to cook—the cards inside were old and some stained, able to see which ones she used the most, her recipes written out in beautiful script, all of them in Spanish and finding some she added little notes to—one for Pozole she’d crossed out radish in the ingredients, noting Javi hated them.
It was a little overwhelming knowing each one this incredible woman had touched, each one she’d made, and even though you never got a chance to meet her, it felt like you had—as odd as it was, you felt closer to her, seeing the tweaks she’d made to some recipes and completely understanding why she did them.
Antonia Peña was alive through the stories her family told, the pictures in old albums, the many home videos, and the food she’d once made that you were now getting the chance to make to honor her memory.
Smiling, you said, “Yes, we’ve got the recipe.” Walking over to the table, you picked up your notebook, looking at him. “I wrote down our grocery list in here.” You tapped the cover with your finger. “But in the video, she mentioned a secret ingredient in her red sauce. She spoke too quickly for me to understand what she was saying, and I didn’t see it listed on the recipe card…”
He held up four fingers. “Four arbol chiles. No more, no less. Four.” Your eyes went wide, grinning as you flipped open your notebook, grabbing the pen tucked between the pages. A hand covered the paper, looking at him in confusion. “You can’t write it down,” he said. “It’s a secret only Javi, and I know, and now you do, too.” He smiled.
Tears brimmed in your eyes, feeling so honored to have been told. You were careful of the notebook and pen you were holding as you threw your arms around him in a hug.
Javi said you were the only person he’d tell the recipe to, and here was his dad saying the same, feeling so unbelievably loved by this family.
“Thank you for trusting me,” you said.
He patted your back. “You’re family, Mija—mi futura nuera (my future daughter-in-law), you get to know, but you can’t tell anyone. Es un secreto (It’s a secret).”
You pulled back, nodding, “Yes, of course.” The pen was put back in the closed notebook, using your free hand to wipe at your teary eyes. “You ready to go?” you asked. “You’re my inside man on where to get the best ingredients.”
Chuckling, he replied, “I’m ready. I’ll drive. We’ll go out the back.”
Grabbing your purse, you followed Chucho down the hallway to the house's rear. The walls were bright teal with artwork of flowers Antonia had picked out, passing a guest bathroom, another hallway that led to a spare bedroom, the laundry room, and the staircase that went up to the master bedroom. He stopped at the coat hooks behind the back door to put on his straw cowboy hat and grab car keys from a row of tinier key hooks.
On your first visit to Chucho’s, you learned they didn’t lock the house during the day, so it wasn’t a surprise when you shut the door behind you, and he just kept walking. The gravel driveway fanned out behind the house where many cars and trucks were parked beside each other, knowing most belonged to Javi’s cousins and uncle, who all worked on the ranch.
It confused you when he passed his pickup, having assumed that was what you would be riding in and ending up at a smaller vehicle with a white cover over it and a dusting of dirt.
“It’s a special occasion,” he said, going to the front and beginning to pull off the covering. “So, we’ll take my baby.” Removing it as he walked toward the rear, he slowly revealed an old, red, soft-top convertible sports car in impeccable condition.
“Wow, I get to ride in the fancy car,” you replied, delighted. “This is so nice.”
The cover was set aside, Chucho unlocking the driver’s side door.
“Thank you.” He patted the top. “She’s a ‘68 Ford Mustang. Got her the year she was made.”
You went to the passenger side, looking through the glass at the black leather interior, two seats in the front, and two squished in the back, the lock disengaging with a click.
Getting in, you used the crank to lower your window, the older man starting the engine, and it roaring to life.
“I’m sure Javi had a blast riding around in this,” you said.
He was leaning to the left to press a button near the steering wheel, the top slowly moving back to open with a whine.
“Oh, he did.” Chucho smiled. “I don’t drive it much—drove it more back then than I do now. Javi would beg me to take him for rides and always was an excited little guy when I’d pick him up from school in it.” The top was completely down, and he rolled down his window, too. “But, Antonia, mi amor, was my regular passenger.” He tapped the dashboard. “Brought out the Mustang for date night.” He grinned.
“I love that so much,” you replied, putting on your seatbelt and Chucho doing the same. “Once Javi got his license, did you let him drive it?”
He put the car in reverse, his arm going to the top of your seat as he looked behind him to back out.
“Hell no,” he answered, making you laugh.
He had you both on the road heading into town in no time, the wind whipping past you, unable to stop from smiling. There wasn’t any awkwardness, feeling comfortable casually chatting with him. Chucho told you more stories about Javi and Antonia that had you laughing, having the best time with him.
There was a small lull in the conversation, and turning your head toward him, you said, “Thank you for helping me with this, Chucho. You have no idea how much I appreciate you.”
Smiling, he glanced at you. “You’re welcome, Mija, and you know, you can call me ‘Pop’ if you want,” he replied. “I already think of you as my daughter and don’t mind.”
Your eyes were watering, and it had nothing to do with the top being down.
In all the time you’ve known this man, he’s been more of a father to you than your actual biological dad. He welcomed you with open arms and was so warm and caring, able to see how much he loved his son and now you, too. It was a stark contrast to the coldness you were used to from being the family disappointment, not even sure when you last spoke to your father, thinking it was probably when you visited your family months ago.
Your mother was the one who stayed in contact with you, though her calls have become less frequent since you’d gone off on her for saying shitty things about Javi. The next time she called after the incident, you had put your foot down and threatened to go no contact if she continued to belittle and say horrible things about him. She hadn’t liked the threat but begrudgingly agreed to your terms, and you assumed the lack of phone calls was because she didn’t have anything nice to say.
Honestly, you knew her weekly calls were to make sure you weren’t bringing more shame to the family name, and it was nice not having her breathing down your neck.
You’ve never known what it was like to have such a loving parent like Chucho, and you were over the goddamn moon you had him now.
“Thank you,” you replied. “You’re a great dad, and I’m happy you’re in my life.”
“I’m happy you’re in my and my son’s lives. I don’t know how I’ll ever thank you for all you’ve done for him. I just love seeing how happy he is and those smiles. So, thank you, Mija.”
“You’re gonna make me cry!” Tears were threatening to spill.
“Don’t cry! This is a happy day.” He patted your knee. “We’re having a great time and almost there.”
La Tapatía Market was a hidden gem on the west side of town in a more residential area, inhabiting what was probably once a neighborhood grocery store back in the 1920s if the old painted brick on the outside was anything to go by. It was on a corner lot, a stone wall separating it from the homes that resided next door to it, and it wasn’t large nor tiny but a decent enough size to offer a variety of goods straight from across the border.
The market also happened to be family-owned, as you learned walking through the front door, hearing a bell jingle above it.
Entering, there was a long counter on the right where the register was, and a young man behind it, who was maybe in his thirties, his black hair buzzed short on his head, and face clean shaven, wearing dark green flannel, his attention immediately on the two of you.
“¡Hola (Hello)!” he greeted. “Me alegro de verte aquí otra vez, Don Chucho (It’s good to see you here again, Don Chucho).”
“Buenos días, Martín (Good morning, Martín),” Chucho replied, smiling. “¿Cómo están tus padres (How are your parents)? ¿Están aquí (Are they here)?”
“No, no están aquí (No, no, they’re not here).” He shook his head. “Tenían que ir a un mandado y deberían volver pronto (They had to go run an errand and should be back soon).”
“Bueno, bueno (Good, good),” he replied. “Oh, Martín, me gustaría que conocieras a mi nuera (Martín, I’d like you to meet my daughter-in-law),” he said, stepping aside and ushering you forward as he told him your name.
“Hola (Hello),” you said. “Mucho gusto (It’s nice to meet you).”
The other man’s eyes were as wide as saucers.
“¿Javier se casó (Javier got married)?” he asked.
“No, todavía no (No, not yet),” Chucho chuckled. “Pero espero que más pronto que tarde (But hopefully sooner rather than later).”
“Sí, Don Chucho (Yes, Don Chucho). Es maravilloso que haya conocido a alguien (It’s wonderful that he met someone).” His attention turned to you, smiling. “Mucho gusto (It’s nice to meet you).” Looking between you both, he asked, “¿Qué los trae por aquí hoy (What brings you here today)?”
Chucho’s arm went over your shoulders, grinning as he answered, “Ella es una cocinera increíble y está haciendo los tamales de mi esposa (She is an amazing cook and is making my wife’s tamales).”
The praise had your cheeks feeling hot, thinking it was very sweet how highly he regarded you, but it also was a tad nerve-wracking, feeling the nervous flutter in your belly.
Surprise was on Martín’s face. “Los famosos tamales de la Doña Antonia (Doña Antonia’s famous tamales)?”
“Sí,” Chucho replied excitedly, and it was honestly very adorable.
“Guau, buena suerte (Wow, good luck). Avíseme si necesita ayuda para encontrar algo (Let me know if you need help finding anything).
“Gracias, Martín (Thank you, Martín).”
“Gracias,” you also said, smiling.
Just inside the door and to the left were metal shopping carts, Chucho grabbing one while you opened your notebook, telling him the first thing on the list, and him leading you to the aisle. There were only a couple of other shoppers moseying around, your boyfriend’s dad greeting them by name when you happened across them.
The recipe from Antonia’s cards said it’d make about two dozen tamales, and you were very confused when Chucho had you get five times the ingredients on the list.
Did he want to make sure you had extra in case you fucked up? Five times seemed a bit excessive for that...
You were standing in an aisle, many different kinds of chiles in plastic bags hanging on pegs in front of you. The older man was looking at the labels with concentration etched on his brow before grabbing a bag.
“These ones,” he said, showing it to you. “How many do you need?”
“Uh, twelve chiles.”
“Okay.” He nodded, looking in the bag and counting how many chiles it had in it, then once again, he was quintupling the amount, throwing in more bags, and doing the same with the arbol chiles.
“Chucho?”
“Yes?” His attention turned to you.
“Why are we getting so much extra stuff?” You pointed at the growing pile of goods in the cart.
“So there’s enough for everyone,” he answered.
Your eyebrows furrowed.
“Who’s everyone?”
“You’re making tamales…” he said slowly.
“Yes… and that means?”
What were you missing?
“You don’t make tamales alone…”
“Yeah, you’re helping.” You gestured at him.
He smiled warmly. “Mija, you’re going to need more than just me. So, I invited people to come over and help.” He shrugged.
It felt like a record scratched in your brain.
“What people?”
“Just my sisters and some of their kids—they’re very excited to meet you.”
Well, this new bit of information did not help with your nerves at all. Now there would be more people judging your food, and your worry that you’d fuck up was running rampant. You took a deep breath. It was going to be okay. You were doing this for Javi—you needed to do this for your boyfriend, and thinking on the bright side, it will be good to have people who know how to make tamales there.
“Oh, wow, okay. I’m meeting the fam. That’s cool. I’m excited to meet them, too.”
Aside from Javi introducing you to a couple of his cousins who work at the ranch, you hadn’t met anyone else in his family—not because he was ashamed of you or didn’t want you to meet them, he was just being selfish, and hogging you all to himself. His tía María had everyone over at her house after church every Sunday for food and to catch up, and there was an open invitation for Javi and you to attend, but he preferred spending the day with you instead. It was romantic of him, but you were dying to meet the people you’d heard stories about and seen pictures of in the photo albums of him growing up.
You hoped they’d like you.
Chucho was back behind the cart, and you were beside it. He put a comforting hand on your shoulder, looking you in the eyes.
“There’s no reason to be nervous,” he said in a gentle voice you could imagine him using with the animals at the ranch. “They’ve heard all about you and are happy Javi has such a great girlfriend. They already like you.”
There was doubt in the back of your mind.
“You’re sure they like me?”
He smiled. “Oh, yeah. Rebeca had some of the peach pie you made for my birthday and wanted the recipe. They all can’t wait to try your tamales.”
That made you feel better.
“I hope I don’t disappoint them.”
"You won't."
A thought came to you. "Fuck, I don't think I made enough pork!"
"You did."
"I did?"
He grinned. "Yes, when you called to ask how much to buy, I made sure you got enough."
Smiling at him, you replied, "You're very sneaky, Chucho and I love it."
"Thank you. What's next on the list?"
“You won’t. What’s next on the list?”
The cart was fuller than you anticipated, with Chucho getting a variety of fruit-flavored sodas called Jarritos and some beer by the time you reached the register. He also refused to let you pay, which was annoying, but after the third time you tried, he gave you a grumpy look that was strikingly similar to your boyfriend’s, so you’d given up.
Everything fit in the trunk of the Mustang, and the two of you were off back to the ranch, Chucho turning on an oldies radio station while you guys made a game plan for the day.
He told you Antonia cooked the red chile sauce first, making the filling next, then the tamale dough called masa after. That was a good idea, deciding that was what you’d do, too.
Returning to the house, everything was brought inside, and you organized it all into piles for each step of the process on the kitchen table. Chucho put all the drinks in a giant cooler with a ton of ice stationed out of the way in the big kitchen.
After washing and drying your hands, you got to work, starting with shredding the pork that cooled while you were out. Chucho turned on the kitchen radio, you telling him to keep it on the Spanish station his wife had loved, and he’d gotten you guys some cold beers out of the fridge.
While you dealt with the meat, he took care of soaking the corn husks in hot water where they’d need to stay for hours to make them pliable and easy to work with when it was time to construct the tamales.
When you finished with the pork, it was put aside, and you started on the red sauce.
The two of you were standing next to each other at the kitchen counter, a big wooden cutting board in front of you both with kitchen shears and a chef’s knife you were using to cut the stems off of the chiles, then using the knife to slice them open and remove the seeds by hand—it was a somewhat tedious process.
“Did you always help your wife with this part?” you asked him, adding another cleaned chile to the pile on a baking sheet beside the cutting board.
“Sí (Yes), well, at least until Javi got old enough to remember not to touch his eyes.” He chuckled.
“A rookie mistake.” You shook your head.
“Oh yeah, I remember the first time, he was maybe five or six, she told him, ‘No te toques los ojos—es owie (Don’t touch your eyes—it’s owie),’ and what did he do? Rubbed them. Antonia had to soak cotton balls in milk and put them over his eyes.”
“Oh god, poor little guy!”
The pile of chiles was getting bigger.
“She felt bad, so I’d help her with the chiles, and he’d be her shadow through everything else.”
“He loved his mom a whole lot.”
“Yes, he did. Surprised he even bothered with me.”
Frowning, you turned your head toward him, pausing what you were doing to reply, “You know he loves you a lot too, right?”
He sighed, “I know.” His hands were still working.
“No, I mean he loves you so much, he won’t leave Laredo, we won’t leave Laredo. He needs to live close to you because he loves you, and he can’t fathom ever being away from you again. I think it’s those talks you guys have over beers.” You smiled, knocking your shoulder against his.
Chucho huffed out a breath. “Maybe it is. We had a good one after he watched the video of his mamá cooking.”
“Oh?” You tried not to sound too curious, returning to what you were doing. “Is there like father-son confidentiality, like doctor-patient?”
“Yes,” he chuckled. “But,” he said in a conspiratorial tone, “you didn’t hear it from me that he’s planning to propose in less than a year.”
Grinning, you replied, “On our first anniversary! I know; I weaseled it out of him.”
He laughed. “I should’ve known you’d find out. Mija?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you a betting woman?”
“As a matter of fact, I am. What are we thinking?”
“I’ll bet you fifty dollars he does it before.”
“See, I thought maybe he’d break, too, but he is adamant about this one-year thing. Apparently, he has a whole romantic plan. So, I’ll take you up on that wager. I see him waiting.”
“We’ll see what happens.”
“Yes, we will.”
He spoke a little softer, “You’re really not moving away when you get married?”
“Hell no, Pop. Our kids need to be close to their abuelo.”
You heard him sniffle, so you bumped your shoulder into his again. “I’m glad to hear that.”
The recipe for the sauce was pretty easy to follow, Chucho seeming to know what appliances you would need and getting them ready: preheating the oven, pulling out the blender, bringing you a good-sized saucepan. When it was simmering on the stove, you thoroughly washed your hands with soap and water to clean off the chile oils, Chucho already doing so.
It was now time to wait as it finished cooking, the anticipation swelling up inside you, praying to whatever deity was listening for it to turn out okay.
The black-rimmed reading glasses were on his face—they’d been kept in the inside pocket of his jacket, that article of clothing draped over the back of his chair. His sleeves were rolled up his forearms, his eyes scanning the words on the document from the opened file in front of him on his desk, while his right hand scribbled notes on the yellow pages of a legal pad, his styrofoam cup of coffee, empty.
Before he met Cielito, it was nightmares that plagued him—not every night, but enough that there was a familiarity to the shadows of his dark room, the bright moon outside his blinds a regular companion. What happened earlier was… new, yet he knew he had to call her; she told him to if she wasn’t there, and he had a nightmare, and this seemed pretty fucking close to one. Her voice gave him something to focus on, grounding him, soothing him to the point his heartbeat slowed and his breathing evened out. The whole thing was entirely unexpected, and he fucking hoped it didn’t happen again.
She wanted him to work out the shit in his head, and he hated admitting it, but maybe he needed to see a professional.
Fuck, he couldn’t go to any in Laredo because people would talk. He set his pen down, leaning back in his chair, his fingers pushing through his hair as he sighed. A neighboring town was an option. It’d be a bit of a drive—worth it, though, if they could help with whatever the fuck was wrong with him. He’d talk to his wif–girlfriend, he mentally corrected, frowning. He’d talk to her tonight since she could probably find a place with her connections at the hospital.
After the panic attack, he focused on work, stocking his office with supplies from the supply closet before going to annoy the fuck out of the Sheriff’s assistant. Her desk was right outside Arturo’s closed office door, a coffee mug on her desk with the University of Texas crest and the words, ‘Class of ‘98,’ so she was a fresh graduate, her nameplate reading Joy, looking like a deer in headlights when Javier rattled off various documents he needed from the Sheriff. Eventually, he sighed when he realized she wasn’t listening and asked for her pad of paper and pen to write them down instead, telling her he needed them as soon as possible.
Half an hour later, she’d brought him a small stack of files and apologized profusely, explaining she’d only worked there a month and had no idea what he was talking about, needing help from the Sheriff.
Javier then spent the time up until now reading and jotting down notes to work out his plan.
He flicked his wrist up, looking at the silver watch face, seeing it was a little past noon and time for lunch.
Closing the manilla folder, he moved it back onto the stack, pushing his notepad aside. His hips shifted forward in his seat as he shoved his hand into his right pocket to pull out his phone, hitting one, then the call button to speed dial Cielito, bringing it up to his ear. Sitting up in his chair, he rested his elbows on the desk, taking off his glasses with his free hand.
She answered on the third ring.
“Hey, babe!”
He smiled. “Hi, baby.”
Spanish music played softly in the background on her end, making him smile bigger, warmth radiating in his chest.
“I’m happy to hear your voice. Has everything been okay since we last talked? Anything else happen?”
“Aside from me confusing the fuck out of some girl and, I think, accidentally scaring her?”
She’d been very apologetic and wouldn’t look him in the eyes, bolting once he told her she didn’t need to apologize and that everything was fine.
“Was your face grumpy, and were you bossy?”
His smile fell.
“Maybe… a little?”
“So, that’s a yes. How old are we talking?”
“Just graduated from UT.”
“Then she was probably really intimidated. Be nicer. You’re working with these people five days a week, don’t make them hate you.”
He frowned, thinking about how everyone in Colombia called him an asshole because he didn’t put up with their shit.
Sighing, he replied, “I’ll… try.”
“Good. So, did the Sheriff give you better details on what he wants you to do?”
His face pinched when he thought of the conversation he had with Arturo.
“Yeah, he tried to fucking saddle me with a goddamn team and have me run the fucking show,” he seethed.
“Excuse me?” There was anger in her tone. “Javier, you told him to get fucked, right?”
“Told him I’d quit on the fucking spot.”
“That’s my man.” He could hear the smile in her voice, and it made his own lips tip up. “What happened?”
“We came to an agreement, and I’ll be doing the work I was promised.”
“And you’re positive you want this job?”
What choice did he have? He needed this job to protect her—he had to do this for her and their family. The work wouldn’t be too difficult, and it was a desk job, so he’d stay safe.
“Yeah, Cielito, I do.”
“Okay…”
“I promise I’m okay, baby. I’ll, uh, need to talk to you about this morning at home.” He scratched at his mustache.
“Of course. Whatever you need.”
Changing the subject, he asked, “I hear you’re in the kitchen. What are you working on?”
“Right now? A sauce that I am stressing the fuck out about because I’ve never made it before and don’t really know what it’s supposed to taste like, so I’m basically doing this blind.”
“I know it’s gonna be the best fucking sauce, Cielito.”
“You think so?” He could picture her perfectly in his mind chewing on her bottom lip.
“I know so because you’re making it. Haven’t had cooking as good as yours since mi mamá.”
“Really?”
“Yes, and you fucking know it. I tell you every day.”
“You do really like my cooking.”
“I do, Pop loves your cooking, too, and I know you’ll kick this sauce’s ass.”
She snorted. “I’ll try. Speaking of your father, after work, drive out to the ranch. We’re having dinner with him.”
His brows furrowed.
“Are you cooking at the apartment or Pop’s?”
“Your dad’s because that was easiest for all the work I have to do.”
He smiled. “Is he with you?”
“Oh, yeah. Took the day off to be my sous chef, but I’m missing my good luck, especially with this sauce!” She said the last word dramatically.
The idea of his girlfriend and dad cooking all day together delighted Javier and had him wondering what she could possibly be making. He was assuming some kind of complicated pasta dish with a complex sauce—he was excited to try whatever it was.
“Baby, don’t stress,” he said calmly. “It’s gonna be so fucking good, and you know I’ll love it. I always love your cooking.”
“I have to be real, babe. There’s a lot of pressure with this one.”
“And you’re gonna knock it out of the fuckin’ park.”
“You’re so nice to me, and I am upset I cannot kiss your stupidly handsome face right now.”
He huffed out an amused breath, smirking. “Glad to know I’m your hunky, grumpy man, you’re disgustingly in love with who has a stupidly handsome face.”
“It’s true!” she exclaimed. “You are my hunky, grumpy man, I’m disgustingly in love with who has a stupidly handsome face I wish I could kiss right now!”
He heard his dad laughing in the background.
“I really fucking love you.”
“I really fucking love you, too. I don’t want you to waste your whole lunch on the phone with me. Go eat.”
“I’d rather waste my lunch on the phone with you.”
“That’s sweet, but please eat for me. It will make me feel better.”
“Then I’ll eat my lunch.” He moved the phone into his other hand, pressing it back to his ear, as he leaned over the side of his chair with a groan to grab the metal lunch box off the floor. “You couldn’t pack it in a paper bag?” he asked, setting it on the desk in front of him.
“You keep acting like my lunch box is the worst thing on earth when literally Empire is your favorite Star Wars movie, and I know you think it’s cool.”
He sighed. “Yeah, but I’m almost forty, walking around with a fucking children’s lunch box.”
“A cool children’s lunch box.”
“I guess it’s kinda cool.”
“Stop lying to yourself—you love it.”
“I don’t love it,” he grumbled.
“You do. I’m so sorry, babe, but I gotta get back to cooking. Don’t forget to come out here after work!”
“I won’t forget. I love you.”
“I know.”
He chuckled. “Smartass.”
“You love me, and I love you, too. See you after work!”
“Bye, Cielito.”
“Bye, Javi.”
They hung up, setting his phone down next to the lunch box, his hands moving to flick open the two clasps on the metal with his thumbs, flipping the top back.
He snorted, smiling, as he looked at the decent-sized sandwich, three—he pulled out the foil-covered sandwich—no, four little baggies of fruit snacks, a clementine, and a Hi-C Ecto Cooler drink carton.
God, he loved her.
Pulling open the foil, he sucked in a breath, lifting the top piece of bread and seeing she had made him one of her BLTs.
The previous night, they had breakfast for dinner before she’d left to go do her secret thing, and she’d made too much bacon, which he’s discovering was to make his sandwich—seeing the arugula, tomato, avocado, and aioli on bread from Anna’s bakery.
Something caught his eye in the lunch box, realizing it was a small piece of paper from the notepad on their fridge. Setting the sandwich down, he grabbed the folded note, unfolding it to see her familiar handwriting, a cute heart over the I in his name:
My dearest Javi,
I love you SO FUCKING MUCH and hope you have the BEST DAY at work! I know it’s probably going to be a lot (even if you’re stubborn and won’t admit it), so your favorite sandwich to comfort you since I won’t be there and an Ecto Cooler because I know you secretly like them. I’ll be thinking about you ALL DAY and am going to give you so MANY kisses when you get off.
Te amo, mi amor.
Your Cielito xoxo
His eyes were a little watery at all of the thought she’d put into his day—that she fucking knew it wasn’t going to go as smoothly as he hoped it would. Why was he surprised? She knew him better than he knew himself, and of course, she’d go out of her way to try and make everything okay.
Because she loved him.
Aside from his parents, no one had ever loved him so selflessly. It was a little overwhelming that she loved him with the same ferocity that he loved her. The Sheriff had said he was completely enraptured, but that wasn’t all—he was enthralled, enamored, entranced, she consumed him, and he consumed her; she wasn’t just the most beautiful and perfect woman on the planet, she was the one.
The cell phone was put back in your bag on the kitchen table, relieved Javi was doing good. Even though he reassured you multiple times he was okay after the panic attack, you still worried about him, but he sounded fine on the last call, and now you could really focus on what you were doing. Going back to the stove, you took the lid off the pan, stirring it with a large metal spoon, determined to kick its ass like Javi said you would.
“Does this seem too thick to you?” you asked, and Chucho came over to look.
“Sí, it’s an easy fix. Just add a little more water.”
“Right.” You nodded, doing as he said with some water in a glass measuring cup until it was the consistency you wanted. “Okay,” you said, the cup getting set aside. “Do you want to do the honors and taste it? Be brutally honest.”
Chucho was beside you, taking the silver spoon from your hand. Chewing on your lip, your tummy was all aflutter with nerves. You had followed every step on Antonia’s recipe card and got the secret ingredient, hoping you did her sauce justice, not sure what you’d do if you failed—that was a lie, you’d cry hysterically that you were a failure and let your amazing boyfriend down.
He inhaled deeply. “It smells wonderful.” You were basically on the edge of your seat, watching as he scooped a little of the sauce onto the spoon and brought it up to his lips, blowing on it softly. He paused, looking at you. “You ready?” he asked.
“Yes!” you exclaimed. “I need to know if I brought shame to your amazing wife!”
His eyebrows creased. “Mi Antonia would be so happy that you tried to make her sauce, and she’d tell you what her mamá told her when she was learning how to make it.”
“What did she say?”
“You didn’t make it wrong; you’re creating your own.”
“Oh.”
“Now, let’s see what your sauce tastes like.” And he ended the sentence by putting the spoon in his mouth and tasting it.
He hummed appreciatively, nodding his head, moving to put the dirtied utensil in the sink. “It’s very good, Mija,” he said after swallowing. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding in. He was standing in front of you, his gaze on yours. “Wow.” His eyes were getting a little misty, taking off his glasses to wipe at them. “Haven’t had a sauce that good since mi amor. God, I miss her,” he mused, putting his glasses back on. His hand went to your shoulder. “It’s very close and very good. Antonia would be proud, and Javi’s going to love it.”
Happy tears fell down your cheeks, your arms going around him for a hug.
“I’m proud of you, too,” he said, hugging you back.
It made you cry harder, squeezing him a little tighter, roughly saying, “Thanks, Pop.”
After you calmed down, it was time to make the pork filling, which required using a large lidded Sauté pan, combining the meat and sauce, and having it simmer on the stove.
Chucho was making himself busy by cleaning and clearing off the counters of the stuff you no longer needed.
He had the dishwasher open, filling it with dirty things from the sink.
“I’m happy you had all the kitchenware I needed,” you told him.
Groaning as he bent to put the glass blender jar into the appliance, he said, “Couldn’t bring myself to get rid of any of it.”
“That’s understandable.” You nodded. If something happened to Javi, you’d be the same.
He straightened. “And it’s a good thing I kept it all because now you can use it.”
“Yes, I can.”
“May I ask a favor, Mija?”
Turning to face him, you said, “Yeah, of course—anything.”
“I know you’ll want to make more of her recipes. Can the next one be her flan?”
It made you soften, well aware that Antonia’s flan was his favorite dessert, loving it so much he named his horse after it.
Smiling, you answered, “You got it. We’ll have to go on another store adventure.”
He gave you a big grin. “We’ll take the Mustang.”
“I hoped we would.”
Once the filling was done, you tried a bite, loving the rich savoriness with a slight kick of spicy, the pork infused with the chile sauce was absolutely delicious. It was finally time to make the dough, reading over your notes about what Antonia had said in her instruction video. Chucho had gotten out her nice avocado green KitchenAid stand mixer that was probably a good twenty years old and in fantastic condition.
The dough was called masa and made out of a special ground-up corn, and in Antonia’s recipe, she added some of the red sauce to it and used the broth made from slow-cooking the pork, you doing the same. The mixer was on, hearing the mechanical whir as it mixed all of the ingredients, needing them to become the consistency of smooth peanut butter. Chucho was sitting at the kitchen table sipping his beer, the corn husks in two tall piles on a baking sheet, and the pork filling in a large bowl on the tabletop next to them.
There was the sound of the front door opening and the screen door slamming closed.
“¿Donde está la muchacha (Where is she)?” A feminine voice shouted, footsteps coming closer to the kitchen.
“No la asustes, Lupita (Don’t scare her away, Lupita),” another woman said. “Tenemos la suerte de conocerla (We are lucky to be meeting her).”
“Sí, y me muero por conocerla, María (Yes, and I’m dying to meet her, María).”
Two very short older women entered the kitchen, both smiling and holding aluminum foil-covered glass Pyrex baking dishes. The two had similar hairstyles of their hair cropped short, the one with black hair, her curls framing her face with bangs, wearing a purple floral blouse; the blonde with a choppier cut, a gold cross necklace laying over her dark blouse.
“Aquí está (She’s here)!” The lighter-haired one excitedly announced, moving quickly to put her dish on a part of the counter you weren’t using.
Turning toward her, you smiled, a white rubber-ended spatula in your hand, greeting her with, “Hola!”
“¿Hablas español (Do you speak Spanish)?” she asked.
“Un poco (A little),” you answered. “Todavía estoy aprendiendo (I’m still learning).”
“Then I’ll use English,” she said with a heavy accent. “Chucho has shown us pictures, and you’re much prettier in person.”
“Thank you?”
“Mija,” Chucho said, “That’s my sister, Guadalupe—”
“You can call me Lupe,” she interjected.
“And María,” he added. The other woman had set down her glass dish, too, both now standing beside you, Chucho introducing you to them.
“It’s nice to meet you,” María’s accented voice said with a warm smile.
“So, nice to finally meet you,” Lupe told you. “We’ve heard so much about you.”
“Hopefully, good stuff,” you replied. “It’s nice meeting you both.” Your attention moved back to the mixer, switching it off.
“Lots of good stuff, Mija,” Lupe said.
“You’re making the masa?” María asked.
“Yes.” You nodded, lifting the mixing arm out of the bowl and scraping the sides with your spatula to check the consistency of the dough, smiling when it was smooth. “I think it turned out okay—I have to do the water test.” That was a way to determine if it was ready; if it floated, it was done, and if it sank, you needed to add more fat.
“I’ll get the water,” Lupe said, moving to get a cup out of a nearby cabinet and turning on the sink.
“Did you have a hard time making the sauce?” María asked.
Looking at her, you answered, “Not really? Antonia did a great job of writing out her recipe, so I did what it said, but boy, was I nervous about how it would turn out.” You chuckled.
“Oh, yes,” María said. “It’s the biggest worry.”
“It was,” you agreed, nodding your head.
A warm glass of water was set next to you on the counter. “Thank you,” you said, getting a small piece of the dough, holding your breath as you dropped it into the cup. It was floating, “Yes!” You pumped your fist in the air. “I did it, Chucho!”
“I knew you would!” he replied. “María, Lupita, ven aquí y prueba la carne (Come over here and try the meat).” They went over to the table, and nerves were once again making your stomach flutter, hoping they’d like it. You were distracting yourself by using your rubber spatula to get the dough off of the flat beater.
“¡Dios mío (Oh my god)!” María sounded surprised. “Es bien bueno (It’s very good). ¿Esta fue la primera vez que lo hizo (This was her first time making it)?”
“Mmm,” Lupe hummed. “Esta muy sabroso (It’s very tasty).”
“Sí, es su primera vez (Yes, it’s her first time).” Chucho sounded so proud, and it had your eyes brimming with tears. “Te dije que es una cocinera increíble (I told you she’s an amazing cook). Sabe casi como el de mi amor (It tastes almost like my love’s).”
“Sí, sí (Yes, yes),” María agreed. “Estoy sorprendida (I’m shocked).”
“¿Ella conoce el secreto de Antonia (She knows Antonia’s secret)?” Lupe asked.
“Sí,” he answered.
“¿Tú se lo dijiste a ella pero no a nosotros (You told her but not us)?”
“Sí, porque mi Antonia dijo que la esposa de Javiercito puede saberlo y creo que se casarán antes de fin de año (Yes, because my Antonia said Javier’s wife can know and I think they will get married before the end of the year).”
You spun around, your eyes wide. “Before the end of the year?” you gasped.
His gaze met yours, smiling as he nodded. “Oh, yeah,” he answered. “Javi can be… impulsive, and I don’t think there’s a chance in hell he’s going to make it to your anniversary.” He looked beyond amused.
Swallowing hard, you asked, “Really?”
“He’s right,” María added, looking at you, her lips lifted in a smile. “When Javi was still working out here, and I’d stop by, he wouldn’t stop talking about you. He’s head over heels for you, Chula (Cutie). That boy won’t be able to make it.”
“I agree,” Lupe said. “You’re going to be family sooner than you know.”
Your heart was pounding in your chest, feeling positively giddy that the people who’ve known Javi his whole life all agreed he wasn’t going to make it to your anniversary. It wouldn’t even bother you if Chucho won the bet. You’d still be a winner.
“Wow,” you replied. “And I’m happy you like my cooking. I was super nervous.”
“With how good this is?” María pointed at the bowl of meat. “There was nothing for you to worry about, Chula.” She walked over to you, giving you a hug, saying, “Welcome to the family.”
“Thank you,” you said, after separating, Lupe came over to hug you, too.
“You did good,” She told you. “We’re happy to have you here.”
María said to everyone, “There’s lunch on the counter. I made tortas ahogadas, and Lupita made some arroz y frijoles (rice and beans)—Rebeca’s bringing her tres leches cake.”
At the mention of lunch, your stomach grumbled, realizing you hadn’t eaten since that morning.
With everything done to make the tamales, it was time to take a small break, finding out a torta ahogada was a type of sandwich with pork carnitas and red onions smothered in a red chile and tomato sauce served on a crusty bread roll and was amazing.
Eventually, Rebeca showed up, the youngest of Chucho’s sisters and a couple of the wives of Javi’s cousins who worked at the ranch bringing along their young kids, who were happy to watch cartoons in the living room and eat snacks their mom’s brought, everyone else eating and drinking the food and drinks that were in the kitchen.
There wasn’t any awkwardness for you, the family very welcoming as you all talked and laughed, and then it was time to get to work making the tamales, forming an assembly line on both sides of the table—the first person spread the masa on the husk, passing it to the next person to put in the filling, the final person folding and tying them with a thin strip of corn husk. It was obvious all the adults had done the process before, continuing to chat as you worked, the children screaming as they ran around the house, and everyone having a great time.
Chucho was folding and putting the finished tamale in a large pot at the end of the table while you sat next to him, spooning on the pork before passing it to him.
He told the table, “She thought she was going to do this with just my help.” The whole table laughed, feeling heat creep up your neck.
“I didn’t know!” you defended, putting a large spoonful of meat on top of what María handed you.
“It’s okay, Mija,” he reassured, taking it from you.
“This is something you do with family,” Rebeca said, across the table, spreading masa. Her black hair was pulled up in a tight bun, her kind eyes glancing at you.
“In December,” Lupe started, folding on the other side of the table from Chucho, “we have a big Tamalada at María’s and make hundreds of tamales.”
Your eyes went wide. “That must take hours,” you replied.
“It does.” She smiled. “But we have a great time.”
“When Antonia was alive,” María said, “she did even more. It took her days to prepare the filling and masa, then our whole family and her older brother’s would come out here, and we’d have the table like this and switch out people when they got tired. It went the whole day, but she made tamales for the family and others in town who’d order from her.”
“I’m surprised we could fit so many people in our house,” Chucho chuckled.
“You couldn’t,” Rebeca laughed. “People were always in the backyard partying.”
“And we’d finish making the tamales,” Lupe said. “And everyone would stay out here until one, two in the morning hanging out and drinking.”
“That’s something you need to know,” Chucho told you as he took another tamale you passed him. “When the family gets together, it’s never a short visit; we’re together for hours.”
It was hard to imagine wanting to spend that amount of time with your own family—it would be literal torture. But with this family? You’d love it, with how much fun everybody was having and the way the conversation flowed so easily. It was apparent there was a lot of love between these people and that they enjoyed each other’s company, finding it refreshing. The thought that this was how Javi grew up made you really happy—so many people who loved him and were open with their affection; each person at this table had given you a hug and welcomed you into the family, including the daughters-in-law who were excited to have another one who would join their ranks.
You’d honestly never had a better time with so many people, feeling like this was where you belonged.
The rest of his day hadn’t been too bad.
The meeting with the narcotics unit had gone mostly well, Javier taking a lot of notes as they all discussed what they were currently doing, relaying what was working and what wasn’t, him already having ideas of how to help them improve. He was expecting there to be some pushback with him coming in—assumed there’d be dick-measuring contests, but he quickly learned the Sheriff only hired people who actually cared about their jobs and wanted to be better at them—except for the kid on the team who was in his twenties and Javier had to tell to fuck off when he asked if the government really paid for him to get pussy; Travis quickly learned that Javier did not tolerate that disrespectful bullshit.
His Cielito had told him to be nicer to the people he worked with, but they made it so fucking hard.
He’d left at five on the dot, carrying her Star Wars lunchbox out of the building and to his truck, stopping on the way to his dad’s at the florist. Mrs. Taylor, the owner, had a smile on her face when he walked into her tiny shop, asking him which bouquet it’d be this week, her not even remotely surprised when he told her his girlfriend’s favorite, sunflowers.
The flowers were carefully laid in the passenger seat as he drove out of the city limits toward the ranch, thinking about everything Cielito had done for him today—taking the day off to watch/help him get ready, making him come before work, answering the phone when he called and calming him down, hanging out and cooking with his dad, making his favorite sandwich for lunch with a sweet note that he saved in the top drawer of his desk. She was right when she wrote it’d be a lot for him to go back to work, but all those things she did had eclipsed any of the bad shit, and he was in a great mood, feeling so unbelievably happy.
He didn’t know how he could possibly thank her for it all, thinking he’d probably go down on her for a couple of hours and get her off so many times she passed out—that would be after he fucked her nice and slow, needing to feel her come around his dick.
His eyebrows furrowed when he turned onto his father’s long driveway and noticed more cars than usual parked along the gravel in front of the house and out back, spotting a couple belonging to his tía’s. Confused, he put the truck into park in front of his girlfriend’s car, grabbing the flowers before getting out.
The sunflowers were in his left hand, his right loosening his tie while he walked along the stone path to the front steps, it untied and resting on either side of his chest by the time he made it to the door. Once inside, his feet carried him to the kitchen, where he abruptly stopped at the doorway.
She was catty-corner to him across the kitchen, the angle allowing him to see her side as she stood at the kitchen counter next to his tía Rebeca at the stove, a tortilla press in front of Cielito, her grabbing some dough from a bowl beside her, rolling it in her hands to make it into a ball, and putting it in the press, pushing down on it hard with two hands. Tía María was next to Rebeca, cooking, tía Lupita nearby making what looked to be a salad, all four of them laughing as Cielito handed the flattened tortilla to Rebeca to cook on the hot pan.
He was stuck in place, shocked at how easily she was making the tortillas like it was something she’d done hundreds of times before and having a lively conversation with his tías, the familiarity in which they spoke making his heart squeeze tight.
Hearing them call her Chula (Cutie) made him smile because it meant they liked her.
Tía María’s head turned, spotting him, moving what she was cooking onto a cold burner to immediately make her way over to him. “Ahi estas! (There you are)!” she said. “Te demorastes! (It took you long enough).”
Rebeca stopped what she was doing, heading his way with Lupita.
He soon found himself crowded by his tiny tías glaring at him, Lupita reaching up to cup his cheeks, saying, “Cómo te atreves a mantener a este ángel lejos de nosotros (How dare you keep this angel from us).”
“Sí,” Rebeca agreed, pinching his arm. “Ella es maravillosa (She is wonderful).”
“Y una cocinera increíble (And an amazing cook),” María added.
“Nos debiste haber introducido antes (You should have introduced us sooner),” Lupita said.
María spoke, “Podríamos haberle estado enseñándole nuestras recetas (We could have been teaching her our recipes).”
“Y las de tu mamá (And your mom’s),” Rebeca told him, poking him in the arm.
“Que no se te ocurre venir sin ella el domingo que viene (Don’t you dare come without her next Sunday),” María threatened as she jabbed his other arm.
“Sí, más te vale (Yes, you better),” Rebeca agreed. “Necesito su receta de pastel de melocotón (I need her peach pie recipe).”
“Deja de ser codicioso y manteniéndola para ti (Stop being greedy and keeping her to yourself),” Lupita said, patting his cheeks. “Es grosero (It’s rude).”
“Muy grosero (Very rude),” María added.
Javier’s mouth was opening and closing, unsure how to respond, finally clearing his throat to say, “Lo siento, lo siento, fue mi error (I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it was my mistake).” He pressed his free hand to his chest. “Yo era muy codicioso pero cómo no iba a serlo, la has conocido, ella es increíble y la amo (I was very greedy but how could I not be, you met her, she is amazing and I love her).”
The anger left their faces, replaced with fond looks.
“Ella también te ama, Chamaco (She loves you, too, Little Guy),” María said, rubbing his bicep. “Ella te ama mucho y también la amamos a ella (She loves you a lot and we love her, too).”
“Encontraste una buena (You found a good one),” Rebeca told him.
He smiled. “Sé que lo hice (I know I did). Soy el hombre más afortunado del mundo (I’m the luckiest man in the world). Ella es con quien me voy a casar (She is the one I’m going to marry). Vamos a tener hijos (We’re going to have children). La amo mucho (I love her so much).”
“Si dios quiere (God willing)!” the three exclaimed simultaneously.
María said, “Javiercito, tu mamá la hubiera amado y querido que te casaras con ella (Javier, your mom would have loved her and wanted you to marry her).”
“Sí,” the other two agreed, nodding their heads.
“Si, lo se (Yes, I know). Ahora, ¿puedo hablar con mi amor por favor (Now, can I please talk to my love)?”
They all moved away from him, finding that Cielito had washed her hands and was standing behind them. The moment her path was cleared, she was rushing him, flinging herself at him with enough force he grunted when her body collided with his, having to take a step back to keep his balance as her mouth fused to his, kissing him hard.
He was thankful for whichever of his tías took the flowers so he could hug her close to him, melting into the kiss that deepened quickly, her tongue slipping past his lips to slide along his own, her fingers digging in his hair. The older women were laughing, giving them some semblance of privacy as they returned to what they were doing.
Something like calm came over him, his body relaxing as they kissed, his hands rubbing all over her back, needing to feel her. It was the contentedness and knowing deep down in his bones this was where he was meant to be—when he was with her, he was home, she was home, she was forever and everything to him.
His lungs began to ache, and her mouth left his, breathing hard as she kissed all over his face, her hands grabbing his head to tilt it forward so she could reach his forehead, smothering him in loud smacking kisses that had him smiling so big she was able to kiss his dimple.
She finally pulled back to look him in the eyes, a little smile on her swollen lips, “Hi,” she greeted.
“Hi,” he replied.
“How was the rest of your day?” she asked, her fingers fixing his hair.
“Not bad.”
“That’s good.”
“Look at my badge.” He lifted it up for her to see his picture.
“God, you’re hot—it is unfair how photogenic you are.” She glanced up at him. “It’s a good thing, though.”
His eyebrow rose. “That I’m photogenic?”
“Yeah, means our kids will probably be photogenic, too. There are going to be so many pictures—I can feel it in my bones that you are going to be worse than your dad.”
He’d gone soft at the mention of their future children, smiling at her.
“Probably.” He shrugged because she wasn’t wrong. Javier was always using the Polaroid camera, and they started their own album—he’d been meaning to get a better camera. “I see you’ve met my tías,” he said.
“And a bunch of your primos (cousins) who work out here, their wives and kids, and your tíos (uncles). Most of them are out back.” She jutted her thumb behind her. “Your dad is barbecuing, and I was learning how to make tortillas, which aren’t too difficult. I’m basically a pro at making masa now.”
“You made masa?” He asked with his eyebrows up in his hairline.
“Yep. I actually have a surprise for you—take off your jacket, and get comfy at the table.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He smiled, doing as she said and shrugging it off while she walked away. He went over to the kitchen table, putting his suit jacket on the back of his chair, the wood scraping across the floor as he pulled it out to take a seat. The sunflowers he brought were in a small vase on the tabletop.
First, she brought him a cold beer, the bottle sweating in front of him.
“Thank you, baby,” he said.
“You’re welcome.” She winked before heading over to the stove.
He picked up the beer, taking a drink, finding it cool and refreshing before setting it back down. His elbows rested on the table as he fiddled with the label on the glass.
All the women were whispering to each other, and it made him curious as to what the surprise was, watching as someone grabbed a plate from a cabinet.
“Did the sauce turn out how you were hoping?” he asked loud enough for Cielito to hear.
“According to your family, yes,” she answered.
“It turned out real good, Chamaco,” Maria said.
“It did,” Lupe added. “She did a great job.”
“A really great job,” Rebeca agreed.
His eyebrows creased, thinking about how she said it was a sauce she’d never made before and how she was stressed about it, his family now saying she made it well. Did she make a Mexican dish?
“Close your eyes!” Cielito said.
“What?” he asked.
“Close your eyes!”
“Okay…?” he replied, closing them.
Moments later, the beer was removed from his hands, moving his arms out of the way to make space for the plate that was set down.
“Now, before you open your eyes. I need you to know I tried really fucking hard, and if you hate them, it’s fine; I’ll never make them again.”
He snorted. “I’m not gonna hate it.”
“I mean, you might, and it’s okay if you do.”
“I won’t.”
Her hand rubbed his upper back, feeling her kiss the top of his head, her muffled voice saying, “This is why I love you. Okay, open your eyes.”
His breath hitched in his throat, his heart thudding in his chest, not believing what he was seeing.
When she said she was working on a new recipe all day that involved a sauce, he assumed pasta or something along those lines—he never in a million fucking years would’ve guessed she’d try to make tamales, staring at the two wrapped in corn husks on the plate in shock.
“What are they filled with?” he whispered, and the thing was, he knew her answer before she even said it, his eyes burning and his bottom lip starting to tremble.
“It’s your mom’s recipe,” she gently confirmed, the first tear falling down his cheek.
He needed to try them, his hands moving to unwrap one, the tamale steaming as he grabbed the fork she’d set beside his plate and took his first bite.
Javier has had years to grieve the loss of his mother and come to terms with the fact she was gone—he’d never see her, talk to her or get to eat her food again. She was gone. Yet, the spices of the red chile sauce and the sweetness of the pork hit his tongue, and for a moment, it felt like she was alive again, the taste so close that his shoulders started shaking, and more tears fell, savoring each bite he took, until the first one was finished, and he was quickly digging into the second.
It was like coming home after being away for years and feeling the warm embrace of your loved one—the instant comfort, happy nostalgia, and overwhelming love, Javier remembering the many times he’d sat at this same table with his mamá nearby, eating her tamales, feeling like she was here with him now.
“Are they okay…?” Cielito asked. “I hope you’re not mad at me for making them…”
The last tamale was gone, his head turning to look up at her with wet cheeks.
His voice was rough, telling her, “I’m not mad. I’m so fucking happy. You—” His voice cracked, his eyes squeezing shut. “—you,” he tried again. “You gave me a chance to eat mi mamá’s food again, and I’m so happy.” There was no way he could keep from crying, shoving his face into her stomach and hugging her tight as he sobbed.
This woman loved him so goddamn much, it was making him cry harder. He couldn’t believe she went through all of this effort for him—she did it for him. He didn’t deserve all of this. He didn’t deserve her. What was she doing with him? How had he lucked out so much? With all of the shit he’s been through and how life has always kicked his ass, there was a fear in the back of his mind that things were too good and she’d realize he wasn’t worth it. It just seemed so fucking impossible that he found someone who truly loved him—she didn’t even have to say the words, he could feel it in what she’d done, and it was crazy to him she loved him that much.
Was it crazy, though?
He was just as in love with her. He’d do anything for her, anything because she had embedded herself so deeply in his heart, he was sure if something happened to her, it’d stop beating—his love for her felt as bright as the burning sun and would keep shining even when he was no more.
“Oh, baby,” she whispered, rubbing one hand on his back, the other cradling the back of his head. “I love you—I love you so much, and had a feeling today would be tough. Your dad said I can make any of your mom’s recipes, so if there’s something you want, I’ll give it a go, and your tías all offered to help me learn.”
Leaning his head back to meet her eyes, he asked, “You want to make more of her recipes?”
She stroked her fingers through his hair.
“Absolutely. I promised your dad I’d make him flan.”
He smiled. “Pop would love that.”
“I know, so I gotta make it for him. He said he’d take me in the Mustang again to go shopping for the ingredients.”
His eyes went wide. “He took you in the Mustang?”
“He did! Top-down and everything. It was a blast.”
“You should see if he’ll let you drive it...”
She huffed out a breath. “To see if you’re the only one with a Mustang ban?”
“Yeah.”
“I highly doubt he’ll let me.”
“You should still ask.”
She playfully rolled her eyes. “Fine, but if by some fucking miracle he says yes, you’re not allowed to be upset,” she said, poking his nose.
“Deal.” He nodded.
“You feeling better?” she asked.
“Yeah. They were so fucking good. Please tell me you made more.”
“There are so many. Your dad had me make a ton.”
Tía María said from over at the stove, “She thought she and your papá could make them all by themselves.”
“I didn’t know!” Cielito exclaimed, throwing up her hands.
“Wait,” Javier started, “was there a tamalada? Is that why everyone’s here?”
“Yeah,” she answered. “Your dad sprung the news on me that he invited everyone while at the store. It was a lot of fun. I did filling.”
He was frowning, feeling sad he missed it.
“I liked to fold,” he sighed.
“Hey.” She held his cheeks. “We can do it again on a day you have off.”
Smiling, he replied, “I’d like that.”
Leaning down, she gave him a tender kiss.
“I love you,” he murmured into her lips.
“I love you, too.”
His mouth left hers, his chair squeaking as it moved back, so he could stand, turning so their bodies were chest to chest, his big palms cradling her face as he looked her in the eyes.
“No,” he said, “te amo más que a nada y mi vida estaría vacía sin ti (No, I love you more than anything, and my life would be empty without you). Vivo para ti, respiro por ti, mi corazón late por ti, soy nada sin ti (I live for you, I breathe for you, my heart beats for you, I am nothing without you).”
“Javi,” she gasped, seeing the tears brimming in her eyes. “That’s so fucking romantic, but I don’t deserve that kind of devotion.” She shook her head. “I’m nobody, and I’m waiting for the day you realize I’m a big fucking loser.”
His eyes squinted, his eyebrows knitting together, not understanding why she would say that.
“What?” he asked. “What the fuck are you talking about? You’re fucking incredible and everything to me. You’re not nobody. You’re my all—you’re it, and I hate the self-deprecating bullshit because if one of us doesn’t deserve love, it’s fucking me.” He patted over his heart. “I don’t deserve you, and I’m really fucking aware of it. So, stop it, and let me fucking love you.”
“Esto es mejor que mi telenovela (This is better than my telenovela),” tía Lupita whispered.
Rebeca shooshed her. “Se está poniendo bueno (It’s getting good).”
“What the fuck are you talking about that you don’t deserve me?” Cielito asked. “I can’t be self-deprecating, but you can? No, unacceptable. You’re a fucking amazing man, and I will not tolerate you thinking that you do not deserve me—you more than deserve me. Thank you very much. So, you fucking stop it—” She poked him in the chest. “—and let me fucking love you.”
He smiled, grasping her hand and bringing it up to kiss her knuckles. “You can love me, and I’ll love you, so that’s settled.”
“Good.”
He kissed the center of her palm. “I really fucking love you.”
“I really fucking love you, too.”
His lips pressed to her wrist. “Estoy enloquecido por ti (I’m crazy about you).”
A kiss to her arm. “Mi corazón es tuyo (My heart is yours).”
Another press of his lips further up. “Soy tuyo (I’m yours).”
One to the bend in her arm. “Eres todo para mi (You’re everything to me).”
Straightening, he gently cupped her cheeks. “Eres el amor de mi vida, mi Cielito (You are the love of my life, my Cielito).” Finally, kissing her on the lips.
Javi demolished seven of your tamales, and when there was a minute with you two alone in the kitchen, you watched him fill two gallon Ziploc bags with probably twenty more that he hid in the fridge to take home, which made you so insanely happy. There was still a bunch left for everyone else to have more than one, not feeling too worried about it since Javi’s tíos showed up with a ton of meat and other things for Chucho to cook on his massive grill and ingredients for his tías to make sides.
Your boyfriend had draped his tie over his suit jacket on the back of a chair at the kitchen table, stuffing his badge in the pocket, rolling his sleeves up his forearms, and popping open a few buttons on his dress shirt before you’d gone out back. A beer he was nursing was in one hand, the other over your shoulders, keeping you close to him.
A dozen or so kids, all under the age of twelve, were running around laughing and screaming in the backyard. The glass dining table on the patio had paper plates, plastic utensils, condiments, a big bowl of fresh-cut fruit, and a tiny stack of tamales on it. The adults sat at a picnic table on the grass, others in plastic chairs pulled close, talking animatedly while eating and drinking their sodas and beers, waiting for more food to be ready, a boombox out playing music.
Javi’s dad had an array of things he was grilling, pointing at each one with his giant metal tongs and telling you what each was: costillas (pork ribs), entraña (skirt steak), chorizó (well-seasoned pork sausage), cebollitas asadas (grilled green onions), and elote (grilled corn).
“The elote,” Chucho said, flipping one over to grill the other side, “we dress it in mayo, cotija cheese that’s crumbly, chili powder, and lime juice. It’s very good.”
“I’m sure I’m going to love it,” you replied, Javi pulling you closer into his side and kissing your hair.
“Ask him,” he murmured in your ear.
“Ugh, fine, hey Pop?”
Your boyfriend jolted next to you, “Pop?” he whispered.
“Yeah, babe—” You rubbed his chest. “—there was a lot of bonding today; he said he thinks of me as his daughter, and real talk, he’s the best dad I’ve ever had.”
“Thank you, Mija,” Chucho said, smiling at you. “I’m happy to have another kid, and who knows, maybe I’ll finally get those nietos (grandchildren) I want soon.”
Javi was in the middle of taking a drink and choked, coughing into his arm while you patted his back.
“We’re waiting until we’re married,” you told him. “And gosh, we’d probably want to have a house, too. There’s no space for a baby in the apartment.”
Chucho was nodding his head. “Of course, of course, if anything, Javi’s got his room here, and I’ve got the spare bedroom we could turn into a nursery, so that’s an option.”
It made you grin.
“That’s so sweet of you, Pop. We appreciate it.”
“Anything for my kids and future grandkids. Now, you had a question.”
“Oh, yes! Would you ever maybe possibly let me drive the Mustang…?”
“Sure.”
Your mouth fell open, Javi saying loudly, “What?!”
“But I’d be your passenger,” Chucho continued. “You can drive when we go to La Tapatía for the flan—it’s the least I can do.”
“Can I drive the Mustang?” Javi asked.
His father met his eyes. “No.”
“¿Por qué (Why)?” he said in rapid Spanish, his tone laced with anger. “¿Por qué ella puede conducir y yo no (Why can she drive and I can’t)?”
“Ella me está haciendo el flan de tu madre (She is making me your mom’s flan). Por eso. (That’s why).”
“¿Qué tengo que hacer (What do I have to do)?”
The older man thought about it for a second before a big toothy smile appeared on his face.
“Cuando te casas con ella, puedes conducir el Mustang (When you marry her, you can drive the Mustang).”
Javi sighed loudly. “Esta bien (Fine). Estas bien agresivo (You’re very pushy). Me voy a casar con ella (I am going to marry her).”
“Yo sé, Mijo, pero no lo suficientemente pronto (I know, Mijo, but not soon enough).”
“Yeah, yeah, I know, I know, you want your grandkids. You’re gonna have to hold your fuckin’ horses and wait.” He took another drink.
“I’m not getting any younger.” Chucho’s attention went back to the barbecue, flipping meat and vegetables.
“I’m aware.”
The two of you migrated over to where everyone else was, standing off to the side as they all talked in Spanish, Javi’s arm around you, his finger drawing circles on your hip.
“I can’t wait to get home,” he whispered in your ear for only you to hear.
“Why’s that?” you asked just as softly.
“So I can spread you out and eat your pussy for an hour or two.” He nipped at your earlobe, your breath catching in your throat. “But first, I want to fuck you nice and slow—want you to feel how I stretch you open and make you squeeze my dick when you come. Gonna pump you full of me.”
You could feel your heartbeat in your cunt, squeezing your thighs together.
“Javier,” you gasped. “We are with your family. Stop making me horny.”
“Yeah? Your panties drenched? If I stuck my hand inside those stretchy fucking shorts I love, would I feel you all wet for me?”
You were, and you hated how smug he sounded.
“Of course, but we’re going to be here for hours. Don’t rile me up.”
His hand moved from your hip to squeeze your ass.
“Maybe I want to rile you up. Have you dripping for me and needy. Get you so fucking horny that we barely make it into the apartment, and I fuck you right there on the floor.”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”
“You fucking love it. You don’t give a single fuck where I do it as long as I fuck you full of my come—you love being stuffed.”
“Javier,” you hissed.
“Yes, mi amor (my love)?”
“You’re being a goddamn menace.”
“I’m being your menace.” He kissed your cheek.
A tiny child was suddenly hugging your legs, looking down to find Javi’s cousin, Danny’s toddler, holding her chubby little arms up for you to pick her up, bending to do just that. The little girl was wearing a pink sleeveless dress, her little bit of dark hair pulled up in two pigtails, sitting her on your hip.
“Hola (Hi),” you greeted her with a smile. “¿Cuál es tu nombre (What is your name)?”
She was rubbing her hands together, not looking you in the eye.
“So-feee-a.”
“Hola, Sofia (Hi, Sofia). Tu nombre es muy bonito (Your name is very beautiful). ¿Cuántos años tienes (How old are you)?”
“Dos (Two)!” she announced, holding up two fingers. “Sí, dos (Yes, two)!”
“Muy bien (Very good). Te estás divirtiendo jugando con tus hermanos y primos (Are you having fun playing with your siblings and cousins)?”
“Sí, corren rápido (Yes, they run fast).”
Looking over at Javi, there was a soft look on his face, you asking him, “¿Cómo se dice (How do you say) they run too fast for you?”
He was just staring, your eyebrows creasing, jabbing him in the side with your elbow, “Javi?”
“What…?” he asked.
“¿Cómo se dice (How do you say) they run too fast for you?”
“Oh, uh, corren muy rápido para ti?”
Nodding, your attention moved back to the child. “¿Corren muy rápido para ti?” you asked her.
“Sí, muy rápido (Yes, very fast).”
“Lo siento (I’m sorry) ¿Cuál es tu color favorito (What’s your favorite color)?
She tugged on her dress. “Rosadooo (Pink)! Y amarillooo (And yellow)!”
Her answer made you giggle.
“También me encantan esos colores (I love those colors, too).”
Sofia frowned. “Tengo sed (I’m thirsty).”
“Oh, um, Javi.” You looked at him. “Can you tell her we’ll take her to her mom?”
He set his beer down on the grass, straightening and holding out his arms. “Ven aquí, preciosa, te llevaremos a tu mamá (Come here, precious, we will take you to your mom),” he said in that sweet voice he always used with the animals, taking the child from you.
He held her easily in one arm, hearing him speaking softly to her in Spanish as he walked her over to her mom at the picnic table—your eyes had gone wide, gulping as you took him in, your ovaries going haywire at how perfect he looked; how natural, thinking those broad shoulders of his would come in handy to carry more than one baby.
Oh.
Oh no.
You had to fan yourself with your hand, it suddenly feeling very hot, doing your best to ignore the ancient, primal part of your brain screaming that he was the perfect man to father your children, and he needed to put one in you right that second—the temptation to toss your birth control when you got home was too damn high.
Dear god, was this baby fever? Were you experiencing baby fever?
The way arousal was burning in your gut and making your pussy throb with need told you, yes, you did, in fact, have baby fucking fever.
You were so unbelievably horny, annoyed it was at the most inopportune time, needing to go splash some cold water on your face to calm yourself down.
Javi was returning to you, your eyes darting away as you said when he was close, “I’m, um, gonna go to the bathroom real quick.” Pointing with your thumbs toward the house. “I’ll be back.”
He was in front of you, his hands rubbing your upper arms, your body shivering at the contact.
“Are you okay?” he asked with a concerned look.
“Yeah,” you said a little too quickly. “Fucking fantastic, not horny at all, no siree, perfectly fine. I’ll be back.”
“Okay…?”
You practically bolted away from him and into the house, passing the guest bathroom to go to the one in Javi’s room. Two of his tías and a daughter-in-law were in the kitchen making side dishes, their husbands in the living room, relaxing in the air conditioning, and watching something on the television.
Safely locked away in Javi’s en suite, you took care of your needs and washed your hands, leaving the faucet running and turning the temperature as cold as possible. Leaning over the sink, you splashed some water on your face, which helped a little, still feeling on edge as you walked over to get a small towel out of the in-wall cabinet to dry off.
The sink was turned off, staring at yourself in the mirror. “We will get married, we will buy a house, and then we will have babies,” you said out loud. “Don’t you dare give in just because your boyfriend is a goddamn DILF without the children. Oh, god,” you whined. “He’s going to be such a fucking DILF! Why does he have to be so sexy?! We can’t even fuck until later. Focus!” You pointed your finger at yourself in the reflection. “No babies, no matter how fucking tempting it is, no. Cool your fucking jets. You’ve got this.” Nodding your head once, you turned to toss the dirtied towel into a nearby hamper.
Unlocking the door, you pulled it open, squeaking in surprise when the hulking figure of your boyfriend was right there, immediately invading your space, his hand on your jaw as he crushed his lips to yours, his other arm wrapped around your back—walking you backward, kissing you like his life depended on it, his tongue quickly pressing into your mouth to tangle with your own, your hands landing in his hair, gripping the soft strands between your fingers.
He kicked the door shut, his lips not leaving yours as he reached behind him to lock it.
The horniness was back at full force, wanting him, no, needing him to ease the ache between your legs, snaking your hand down his front, finding his cock hard under his navy blue slacks, his boxer briefs making it stretch up at an angle toward his belt, Javi groaning as you stroked him over his pants.
He pushed you back against the bathroom counter, his hips pressing into you, moaning as his tongue plundered your mouth.
A moment of clarity hit you, remembering where you were and the many people outside his bedroom door, reluctantly breaking the kiss to say, “Javi, your family’s in the other room.”
Kissing you again, his words were muffled, “I locked the bedroom door.” He squeezed your breast, his other hand grabbing your ass.
Pulling back again, he chased your lips, moving your head to dodge him. “We can’t fuck with them out there, Javier.”
There was a grumpy expression on his face as he stared at you. “Why not?”
“They could hear us?”
“They won’t—we’ll be quick and quiet. Nobody will know.” He licked his plush lips, your attention drawn to them.
There was his bedroom and the entryway separating you from everyone else, so as long as you weren’t too loud… Christ, were you really thinking about fucking in a house full of people? Yes, you were, knowing Javi would make it so good—remembering how he said you didn’t care where he did it as long as he came inside you, which was apparently true, your resolve disappearing in an instant, wanting him so fucking bad nothing else mattered.
“Fuck, okay—a quickie, Javier, and you better make sure I’m not too loud,” you said, poking his chest. “God, I’m so fucking horny.”
His mouth was on yours again, his hands cupping your breasts through your shirt, his lips moved to your jaw, saying into your skin, “I know you’re horny, baby—” He nibbled on your chin. “—could tell outside.” His mouth was against your neck, kissing down it, his hand moving between your legs, making you moan when he rubbed over your sex. “You think I’m a DILF.” He sucked on your pulse point before his head popped up with a confused look, “What the fuck is a DILF?”
“Oh god, you heard my pep talk.” Embarrassment had you covering your face with your hands, Javi immediately prying them off, looking at you fondly.
“Don’t be embarrassed, Cielito,” he said, kissing you quickly. “I loved the pep talk—we needed the pep talk ‘cause seeing you with the baby fucked me up, too. You didn’t answer my question, what’s a DILF?”
“You know a MILF is a mother I’d like to fuck, so a DILF is a dad I’d like to fuck—you’re a fuckin’ future dad I’d like to fuck.”
He kissed you, smiling into it. “You’re in luck,” he said, ending the sentence with a nip to your bottom lip. Stepping back, he spun you around to have your front to the counter, his body flush with yours, seeing you both in the mirror with his lips at your ear, his dark eyes meeting your gaze in the reflection. “You get to fuck me,” he said in a deep timbre that had tingles moving down your spine.
“Good,” you replied, pushing your ass back into his hard cock. “I need you to fuck me, Papí.”
“Fuck,” he groaned, seeing his throat bob as he swallowed. His body left yours, pulling you with him as he took two steps back. “Arms on the counter, baby,” he rasped, his big hand sliding up your spine and gently pushing you forward, bending at your waist to rest your forearms on the countertop beside the sink. “Fucking love these shorts.” His hand came down hard on your asscheek in a loud smack, your cunt clenching, gasping his name.
“You’re also gonna love what’s under them,” you purred.
Hooking his thumbs under the waistband, his gaze was on yours in the mirror, smirking under his mustache. “The red one?” he asked.
“You’ll see.”
He tugged the bike shorts down, the air cool as it hit your bare skin, Javi sucking in a breath, his eyes locked on the red thong you’d worn, unable to keep himself from squeezing handfuls of your ass. “I love you so fucking much—fuck, it’s pretty.” He glanced up to continue, “Thank you for spoiling me today, mi amor (my love).”
Smiling, you replied, “You’re welcome, Javi. Now please fuck me.” You wiggled your hips.
“Are you needy for me, Cielito?” he asked, his hands going to the front of his pants, hearing the clink of his belt and the teeth of his zipper coming apart.
“Needy in the sense that I need your dick inside me right now, and we can save the ass worship for later.”
He chuckled, his slacks and underwear getting shoved down his thighs. “I’ll put my dick inside you, then,” he said, using one hand to pull the soaked fabric of your thong to the side, spitting on the fingers of his other to slick up his cock.
Anticipation was thrumming in your veins, your pussy weeping for him, needing Javi to fill your achingly empty center in the way only he could satisfy. He didn’t waste any more time, pressing the tip of his length to your sopping entrance, gasping yes as he started pushing in, your head dropping between your shoulders, resting your forehead on your crossed arms in front of you. His hands had a tight grip on your hips, cursing under his breath as he slid home in one smooth thrust, making you moan when he bottomed out—it felt so fucking good, his thick cock stretching your tight walls, carving out space inside you while your cunt tried to suck him in deeper, feeling so goddamn full.
The hem of his dress shirt was brushing against your ass, Javi pulling almost all the way out, and thrusting back in hard enough to knock the air from your lungs, setting up a punishing pace that had your eyes rolling back in your head.
“You’re so fucking wet,” he groaned. “You feel so good.”
This was going to be hard and fast, the goal to get off as quickly as possible.
You could hear the wet slap of his hips connecting with your ass, the flesh jiggling—his hand landed on your asscheek hard enough the smack echoed in the small room, your pussy squeezing him tight as you moaned. Looking up, you saw him behind you in the mirror, his mouth slack, eyes dark and half-lidded, his attention on you, the first few buttons on his white shirt undone, seeing the flush crawling up his chest to his beautiful neck, the taut skin glistening in sweat.
“Does it turn you on, baby,” he asked through his teeth, pistoning into you, “thinking about me as a dad?”
The beginning threads of your orgasm were starting to weave in your belly, feeling the familiar heat growing.
He slapped your ass again. “Answer me, Cielito.”
“Yes,” you gasped, your words stuttering from the pounding, “Fuck, it’s so good, Javi. It turns me on—turns me on so fucking much,” you babbled. “You’re fucking me so good. Harder, Javi.”
“You want it harder, mi amor (my love)?”
“Yes.”
Bending over your back, his arm went under you and across your chest, pulling you up to stand. His thrusts didn’t wane, shoving your shirt up your chest one-handed to reveal one bra-covered breast, tugging the cup down to pinch your stiff nipple, the sensations shooting straight to your pussy.
He kissed the side of your neck, grunting in exertion.
“You really want it harder?” he asked breathily in your ear.
“Yes, Papí,” you moaned.
His big hands moved, grabbing your biceps near your elbows, pulling you back as he thrust forward, fucking you so hard your mouth was open, gasping out moans. Your mind was a pleasure-addled mess, unable to think about anything except how good he was fucking you—the knot in your belly was getting tighter and tighter, hotter and hotter, until euphoria exploded outward from your core, coming with a shout of Javi’s name that was quickly muffled by his hand covering your mouth.
“Shhh, Cielito—such a good fucking girl for me” Your cunt had clenched up so tight his rhythm slowed to a grind, letting you feel every ridge and vein on his cock as he worked you through your high. His head was beside yours, speaking in your ear, “I know it’s good, baby—need you to be quiet, just ride it out.” He kissed your neck again, his free hand rubbing over your stomach and up to squeeze your breast. “I love you so fucking much.”
Her eyes were closed, her chest heaving after climaxing, Javier waiting for her cunt to stop fluttering around him, his throbbing cock slowly moving in and out of her, it wetter where they were joined.
He loved watching her come and knowing he was the one that got her there, pride always swelling inside him that he made her feel so good.
She was saying something, not making out the words with his large hand over her mouth, quickly removing it.
“What’s that?” he asked, kissing just behind her ear.
Her eyes blinked open, smiling dreamily at him in the mirror.
“I said I love you, too,” her rough voice responded.
One sentence, and it had his body going warm, unable to keep from smiling at her with how fucking happy she made him.
He was close to his end, the heat in the base of his spine threatening to explode with how fucking gone he was on her. All he could think about was everything she’d done for him that day, all of the things, big and small, showing him without her saying it how much she loved him, and he wanted to give her the entire fucking world—it was more than what she deserved, but that wasn’t possible so he was settling with giving her such good dick, it made her drool.
“You’re cute when you’re fucked out of your mind,” he said, placing a kiss on the spot where her shoulder met her neck. Her aftershocks had finally ended, and it was his turn. “I’m gonna move you,” he told her. She gasped when he pulled out, getting her closer to the counter where he turned her to face him, bending to tug down her shorts and underwear, impatiently taking off her shoe to get one of her legs free. When he stood back up, he gripped her bare thighs, grunting as he lifted her onto the counter's edge, spreading her legs to make space for himself.
She was wide open for him, seeing the puffy lips of her pussy shining in the light, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip, wishing he had time to taste her. She leaned back on her arms, Javier taking his place in the cradle of her thighs, quickly sheathing himself back in her wet heat.
“Fuck, that’s good,” he groaned, slowly rocking deep inside her.
Her legs wrapped around his middle to lock at the small of his back, her cunt warm and welcoming, beckoning him to come, feeling the build low in his belly.
There was a need to have her like this, his lips smashing into hers in a searing kiss, swallowing her moans as he started moving faster. His hand held her face, the other pushing her shirt all the way up her chest to get both of her breasts free from her bra, palming the bare skin and tweaking her pebbled nipples while his tongue slid along hers in the way he knew made her toes curl.
Her soft sounds and his rougher ones were quieted with their mouths being connected, his hips swinging into her with strong, even thrusts, hearing the wet suck of her pussy, the slick friction of her velvety walls pushing him closer to his release.
She put all of her weight on one of her arms, her free hand grabbing his hair to pull his head back, her lips wetly trailing along his jaw, her voice saying into his skin, “It’s so good, Javi—you feel so fucking good inside me.” Her tongue licked up the column of his throat, and it had his eyes rolling back, his rhythm stuttering for a second.
“Jesus Christ,” he panted, her mouth sucking a mark on his jugular. “You’re gonna make me come.” The muscles in his abdomen were beginning to tighten.
His pace sped up, able to tell he was fucking her good when her head fell back, and her sounds started getting loud enough he had to cover her mouth again.
“It feel good, Cielito?” he asked roughly. “You like knowing you’re gonna make me come? That this pretty fucking pussy is gonna milk me dry? You love that I’m gonna give you what you want and fill you up—stuff you full of my come?” He licked his lips. “Bet you wish you weren’t on birth control.” Her moan was muffled, squeezing her eyes shut, causing a jolt to run through him.
Seeing her earlier with the baby had ignited a fire inside him, something instinctual telling him he needed to give her one of her own—that they needed one of their own, and he wouldn’t be satisfied until he fucked his come deep inside her. From the look on her face, she was also feeling some type of way, which was why he’d followed her into the house, her pep talk confirming he was right. There had been no way for them to wait until they got home to fuck, he was too riled up, and she wasn’t any better.
She looked at him, her eyes glazed over in lust, a sheen of sweat coating her forehead, looking absolutely fuck drunk as she tried to say something he couldn’t make out, still fucking in and out of her.
He lifted his hand.
“What?” he asked through heavy breaths.
She sounded wrecked. “Fuck a baby into me—please,” she begged.
The sentence was his undoing, a strangled noise ripping from his throat, his head falling against her shoulder, his balls tightening, and cock thickening—two more quick strokes before he was burying himself to the hilt, sinking his teeth into her flesh over her shirt as he came so hard his vision went white and he lost hearing in his left ear.
He rolled his hips, working his spend as deep as he could get it, the overstimulation causing a whispery hiss to leave his lips before he finally stilled, his body so relaxed he slumped into her. A euphoric haze came over him, his mind as slow as molasses.
Her free hand stroked through his sweat-damp hair, her nails scratching lovingly along his scalp, which felt so good, he was humming appreciatively.
A few minutes passed, and she finally broke the silence to croak out, “Well, that was unexpected.”
His ear was still ringing, lifting his head to look at her. “What was unexpected?” he asked.
“The sex—” She delightedly smiled, poking his nose. “—and your massive fucking breeding kink.”
Confusion came over his face.
“My what?” he asked.
“For a man who has had a lot of sex, and I mean a lot, it’s always surprising when you don’t know a sex thing.” She pushed some of his hair off of his forehead. “Your breeding kink; it gets you off thinking about knocking me up.”
He felt the blood rush to his cheeks, looking away from her.
“Shit, I didn’t want you to know…” He scratched at the back of his neck.
Her hand gently moved his face to meet her eyes, her brows furrowed.
“Why didn’t you want me to know?”
Letting out a long sigh, he answered truthfully, “I didn’t want you to feel pressured. I’m fine with waiting,” he quickly added. “Really fucking fine with it, especially after this morning, but the fantasy…”
“Really gets you going. Wanna know a secret?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ve got a massive breeding kink, too. I like to imagine you getting me pregnant when we fuck, and also, the whole there being a one percent chance that you actually could really gets me going.”
“Fuck,” he breathed, rubbing his hands over her thighs. “So, it’s okay..?”
She smiled, resting her palm on his cheek. “Oh yeah. It’s more than okay. We can have our fantasy for now, but my god, imagine how good the sex will be when we’re actually trying.”
That had arousal stirring in his belly. “Fuck,” he breathed again. Cupping her cheeks, he said, “I don’t know how I got so fucking lucky with you, but you’re perfect, and I love you so fucking much. Eres la mejor novia del mundo y soy feliz de compartir cada instante de mi vida a tu lado (You’re the best girlfriend in the whole world and I’m happy to share each moment of my life by your side).” He kissed her softly, murmuring into her lips, “Siempre has sido tú, incluso antes de conocerte, y siempre serás la elegida porque eres el amor de mi vida y tú eres la única para mí (It has always been you, even before I knew you, and it will always be you because you are the love of my life and you are the only one for me).”
She pulled back to look him in the eyes with a smile.
“I think you’re the best boyfriend in the world, and I’m happy I get to spend my life with you and have your babies.” She pecked him on the lips. “It’s cheesy,” she continued. “But before I met you, it felt like something was missing in my life, you know? And now I feel like everything is right—you feel right; you were what I was missing,” she said, poking him over his heart. Javier grabbed her hand to kiss her knuckles, listening to her speak. “So, you’ve always been it for me, always, and life just waited for us to both be lost before allowing us to finally find each other.” She shrugged. “You’re it for me, Javier Peña—you’ve always been it; yesterday, today, tomorrow, a year from now, it’s always going to be you because I was meant for you, and you were meant for me. In summary, I love you so fucking much, too.”
He chuckled, kissing her a little harder this time, feeling so happy he thought he might be floating.
He knew she was the love of his life—knew it with every fiber of his being, and he would spend the rest of his days with her just to prove it.
When your lungs begged for air, you broke the kiss, Javi smiling so big his dimple was showing, the love for you clear in his gaze.
“Today was good?” you asked.
“Today was fucking amazing.”
“Good, good,” you nodded. “Javi?”
“Yes, Cielito?” His hands were skating up and down your bare thighs.
“I have another surprise for you that can’t happen until tomorrow…”
“Baby, you’ve done so much. I don’t need anything else.” He quickly kissed you.
“Oh, you’re gonna really fucking want this.”
His eyebrow lifted, looking curious.
“What is it?”
“Well, after a lot of thinking and working up my courage, I thought maybe you’d wanna try fucking my ass?”
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