protection (Javi P/Elisa)

Rating: E (Explicit)

Length: 2.5k

Summary: Sleep with a communist? That would be downright un-American. Except Javier Peña never met a damsel he didn’t want to rescue, a small penance for the woman he left behind at the altar all those years ago. He can provide occasional comfort, and if that means taking a bit for himself - well - that should be enough to get by.

Warnings: SMUT, PIV sex, oral (f receiving), creampie, Javi being tender but also not, it’s the early years this man is A Mess Emotionally

A/N: Javi in Season 1, man. It’s just a Whole Thing. Thanks as always to my beloved @ezrasbirdie for lookin’ this baby over. This is a stand-alone but could also be a prequel to something else still formulating in my brain.

She’s beautiful.

It’s the first thought that occurred to Javier Peña as the door to his apartment swung open, and he found himself face to face with a dark-haired woman, her soulful brown eyes shining with a plea for help.

He didn’t say it, though.

“Well, what have we here?” He asked, his glance flicking back and forth between the stranger and Murphy’s wife Connie, both women clad in blue scrubs from the comuna.

“I’ll explain later. I’ll be right back,” Connie said, waving the dark-haired woman inside. “Go,” she added, and then Connie turned on her heel, her blonde ponytail bobbing behind her, leaving Javier as bewildered as he was the moment he opened the door.

Closing it, he turned to see the woman pacing anxiously in his kitchen. 

He hadn’t even made coffee yet. Damn, but he was going to be late to the office.

“Uh, can I get you some coffee, miss-?”

“Elisa,” the woman replied, sighing and wrapping both arms around herself, as though she could force her body to hold still. Kinetic energy raced through her, nerves rattled, and she seemed to be on the verge of bursting.

A human hand grenade, Javi thought, shaking his head. But who was this woman? And why had Connie unceremoniously dropped her off at his door, as though he were running a daycare?

“Elisa,” Javi said, her name a low, delicate song on his lips, “why don’t you have a seat and tell me why you’re here? I promise, no harm will come to you.”

Elisa took a deep, steadying breath before sinking onto the sofa; seated, but not relaxed.

“Connie says I can trust you. She says you are a good man,” Elisa said, the question implied in the statement. A flicker of hesitation ran through her, but she took another breath and continued.

“I have information about Pablo Escobar and M-19. They are- they are working together. They’re planning something big. I’m not sure what it is, but it’s bad, and-” her words sped up, and Javi placed one large palm on top of her hands, twisted together on her lap.

“It’s all right. Take your time. Tell me everything you know, and I’ll make sure you’re protected.”

Elisa winced.

“How can you do that?”

Javi placed a hand on her shoulder, in what he meant to be a calming gesture, but the warmth of her through the scrubs made his heart race. 

He shouldn’t like this part so much, but it never gets old.

“I’m a DEA agent, Elisa. The U.S. government has the power to make a lot of things happen. And one of them is making sure you stay safe, if you’re my confidential informant. That means your identity stays a secret.”

Elisa scoffed. 

“They are really going to protect a communist?”

Javi pursed his lips.

“How communist are we talking? Like, are we seizing power for the people or just some light organizing?”

Elisa gave him a deadpan stare.

“My boyfriend - well, former boyfriend - is the leader of M-19.”

Javi sat back, blowing out a breath.

“Shit,” he said, reaching into his pocket for a cigarette.

“Yeah,” Elisa said, watching him light it. “Shit is right. Can I have one of those?”

Javi pulled a second cigarette from his pocket, lit it, and handed it to Elisa, who took a long drag and leaned forward, her forehead cradled in one palm.

“Okay,” Javi said at last, rubbing his palms on his thighs. “Actionable intel. If you help me give them specifics - names, meeting places, routines, things like that - we can make sure it gets to the right people. I won’t bring you down to the Embassy for now; I don’t want to take the chance someone on Escobar’s payroll gets wind that you’re helping us.”

Elisa nodded, tucking her leg underneath her body on the sofa. It made her look smaller, and Javi had the absurd urge to pull her into his lap and hold her.

What was wrong with him?

Javi’s instincts were right on the money; no sooner had Elisa arrived at his apartment, than absolute chaos broke out in Bogotá. 

The attack on the Supreme Court, ostensibly a blow dealt by communists seeking to overthrow the current regime, had a deeper purpose - to seek out and destroy all the evidence gathered against Escobar for a trial.

Javi had to hand it to him; Pablo lived in a world without limits. If he didn’t want to face a trial, why not just eliminate the court altogether? The concept made his head spin, and yet it was almost poetic in its simplicity.

The end result, aside from a torched court system and several dead justices, was that Elisa was more important than ever. The evidence was gone.

All of it.

Which meant that she was the only person (alive, and willing) who could give evidence tying Escobar to M-19, and to the attack they had just carried out on his behalf.

To make sure she got that chance, however, Javi had to keep her safe. He had to keep her hidden away.

Which meant her whole world was suddenly the inside of his apartment, and the solitary bachelor pad wasn’t so solitary anymore.

Elisa didn’t have much stuff; Connie had dropped her off with essentially the clothes on her back, then returned later with a small bag of essentials - a change of clothes, toiletries, things like that. A tiny bottle of perfume - Connie’s gift to Elisa, he was sure - ended up on his bathroom counter, and his eyes settled on it every time he went in there.

Eventually, he gave in and uncapped it, sniffing the bottle.

Big mistake.

It smelled sinful.

Warm and sweet, a hint of florals and vanilla, with a light musk that Javi had already noticed anytime he stepped into a space where Elisa had stood a moment earlier. The scent was subtle, but unmistakable. 

He was hard in seconds.

Javi put the bottle down and flattened his palms on the formica, sighing. 

This was going to be more difficult than he thought.

Ayala was dead.

Gunned down in a hail of bullets, surrounded by his comrades, and that could only mean one thing: Escobar was cleaning up after himself.

Javi stared at the photo of Elisa, pinned to the center of the corkboard in the meeting room at the Embassy.

Blurry, sepia tone, with a cap on her head - she barely resembled the rumpled, sleepy woman he’d encountered in the hallway that morning.

Shit, he’d had to beat one off in the shower just to be able to walk straight - and that was after he’d spent the night wrapped around her softly curved body. She was lithe and strong, with just enough of a curve to her ass to make him think about her hours later, in the meeting room, a shadow of uncertainty washing over him.

She didn’t know about Alejandro’s death, and Javi was reluctant to tell her. She’d already made her choice; nothing was going to save her former boyfriend now. What good would it do to make her feel sad?

Instead, he could comfort her, protect her, like he’d been doing. He could get her out of this country, away from the narcos. He wanted that almost as much as he wanted to catch Escobar and stop him for good.

“You may have run from your country, but I’m not running from mine,” she’d said.

Javi had leaned over her, pressing a kiss to her lips that was far too tender for their fleeting affair. He brushed her cheek with his nose, then kissed her forehead; the gesture almost worshipful, a gift of praise for her bravery.

She was fierce, and bold, and she saw right through him. She wasn’t counting on him to save her, which made his desire to do so all the more urgent, burning in his chest like a lit stick of dynamite.

Javi bit his tongue throughout the briefing, as the CIA scoffed at the intel he’d gathered and charged on with its own ill-conceived plans. He wasn’t about to let Elisa’s name slip or reveal her whereabouts.

Murphy’s accusation made his stomach twist. Did Steve judge him for sleeping with Elisa? He didn’t really care much what the newbie from West Virginia thought about his sexual activities; it was the thought that something about the way he carried himself made it too obvious that bothered him. What if someone else caught on?

After poking at paperwork for a couple of hours, Javi made an excuse and clocked out for the day, anxious to check on Elisa. She needed round-the-clock protection, and he couldn’t do it from the office. He swiped an interesting looking novel from Noonan’s secretary’s desk on the way out, sliding it inside his tan jacket.

As he’d trained her, Elisa answered the door with a gun in her hand.

“Good girl,” Javi said as she closed it behind him, folding his arms. “Figured you’d be going stir crazy by now.” He handed her the book, and she barked out a laugh.

“Javi,” she said, grinning widely, “this is a romancenovel.”

Javi shrugged.

“I figured it must be pretty good, Noonan’s secretary has had her nose buried in it all day when she thinks no one’s looking. Don’t lose her spot, by the way. There’s a bookmark in it.”

Elisa chuckled, flipping to the marked page.

“Oh, my,” she said, mock-offense on her face, “Dirk is plowing Sophia already, his big, pulsing member making her writhe with pleasure,” she read aloud, unable to keep the amusement from her voice. “You thought this was about my speed?”

Javi smirked.

“It’s not that far off what happened last night,” he said, loosening his tie.

“You hoping for a repeat performance, Agent Peña?” Elisa asked, setting the book aside and unbuttoning her shirt.

Shit - not her shirt. His shirt. How had he not noticed? She’d tucked it in and rolled up the sleeves, but the fabric stretched around her body was unmistakably his white button down.

“Easier to protect you when you stay close,” he murmured, his fingers sinking into the hair just above the nape of her neck as he pulled her in, crushing their lips together.

“Did you come home just to fuck me?” Elisa asked, and Javi nearly growled.

Had he? He wasn’t sure anymore. He craved her, his nostrils filling up with her scent as she led him to the bedroom and let herself fall onto the mattress, crawling backwards up to the pillows. He followed her, peeling his clothes off as he went.

Both of them were naked by the time she reached the headboard, wrapping one hand around the cool metal of the frame, arching her back as Javi buried his nose in the soft patch of curls between her thighs. Lifting one leg up over his shoulder, he spread her wider, the slick folds between her legs glistening under his gaze. Elisa moaned, her fingers clutching at his hair as he lapped at her, the scent of the perfume detectable even at her hips - had she rubbed a little on them? - and his thick, strong fingers dimpled her thighs under his grip.

Elisa wasn’t very vocal in bed; she didn’t babble or praise his prowess. It was her grip that gave her away. The way she held his body, the way she let herself cling to him for the brief time their bodies were joined.

Javi couldn’t get enough. This fierce, fearless, independent woman letting go for a few precious moments with him made him feel like a god. 

He knew he didn’t deserve her, that he wasn’t worthy of her love. But being trusted with her body, even for a little while, allowed him to pretend for a few minutes that the intimacy they shared was something more.

Sweat covered their bodies, a light sheen of it making them glow in the afternoon light filtering through the closed yellow curtains. Javi had made her cum twice, his jaw aching, before he climbed the rest of the way up her body and kissed her, a messy union of lips and tongues and wet, sticky skin. She crossed her ankles behind his slim hips, palms pressed to his broad shoulders as he eased up and in, sinking easily into her soft, pliant center - already pulsing with waves of pleasure.

Javi wasn’t good at comforting words; he couldn’t guarantee much, once they’d given her the papers to attempt an escape from Pablo’s men. 

But he could fuck her like she was the last woman on earth, and he the last man, with the singular goal of repopulating the planet.

He was pretty sure she’d left the little circular pill pack on the bathroom counter as a message to him, so that last part wasn’t going to happen.

He could still pretend, though.

And Elisa - brave, strong Elisa - seemed to enjoy driving him to it.

“Fuck, Javi,” she’d purred in his ear when he was close. “Fucking fill me up. Cum in me,” she growled, and he snapped like a rubber band left in the sun, his restraint vanishing in an instant. His hips rocked and plunged and pounded against her, and Elisa’s moans urged him on until he shuddered, his release spilling out of him deep inside her, her back arching in delight as she felt him, heat blooming in her core.

The pair of them fell asleep, still joined, in the middle of the afternoon, the city sounds filtering in the windows along with humid, tropical air.

Elisa woke first, shifting until Javi was behind her, his chest rising and falling slowly.

She hadn’t planned on any of this.

The last thing she’d expected when Connie dropped her at Javi’s doorstep was that she’d end up in his bed, but the more she thought about it, the more inevitable it felt.

He clearly had some deep, unresolved issues; she could feel it in the way his playful touches turned serious, in the way he lavished tenderness on her - a stranger - vacillating between frenzied fucking and gentle lovemaking.

He was gifted, that much was clear, and Elisa had her fair share of men of all skill levels. She wasn’t about to miss out on the kind of sex she might never have again.

But she knew, deep down, it wasn’t really about her.

That’s why she had no illusions about sticking around to make a life with Javier Peña.

Not that he was offering anything of the sort.

Elisa packed up her things that very last night at Javi’s place, certain that she wouldn’t be missed; a man like Javi would move on, find comfort where he needed it.

And she was right — at least for a while.

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