Series Summary: You don’t expect to be pulled into a heated gravitation with Agent Javier Peña, and the more you both try to navigate your lives around each other, the clearer it becomes that your feelings go beyond the torrid desires you both are able to ignite in each other. Will the heat of your passions win out against the tribulations that threaten to pull you apart?
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*Moodboard image was sourced from several sources and made by yours truly. F!Reader’s physical appearance is my head-canon, but please feel free to conjure what you wish.
Hello, my dears! Sorry for the long lapse in posting, but I’m back with a mega pint of a chapter (yes, I said it. Sue me) that I hope will make up for the lull.
Pairing: Javier Peña/F!Reader
Rating: Mature/Explicit
Character Count: 21,500+
Summary: After a perilous event, you and Javi find solace in the respite of being together amongst a surprising support system. But when it’s time to confront truths, will you both be able to protect each other and stay grounded in the love that tethers you together?
Warnings: Javier Peña being the ultimate BAE. Graphic descriptions of sex, including explicit depictions of oral (m+f receiving) and unprotected sex. Mentions of hurt/comfort, emotional trauma, toxic coping mechanisms, and suppressed feelings. Descriptions of raunchy behavior, light dom/sub play, cum play, size kink, praise kink, and dirty talk. Allusions to triggering events, foreboding threats, and psychological trauma. Some Protective!Javi, Dom! Javi, Sub!Javi, Sub!Reader, Wrathful!Javi. In the vein of Narcos being a bilingual show, and Javier Peña being fluent, I felt it was apropos to include Spanglish and Spanish throughout.
When you next wake, you can tell it’s around the time that lavender haze of twilight starts to pale into early dawn. You lie there for a bit and just enjoy the tranquility, still enveloped by the warmth of being in the small bed together while the fresh air of early morning filters in through the windows. His scent – masculine yet softened by fragrant soap – chastens the small tremor of anxiety that bubbled up as your mind recalled everything that had happened the day before. You want to curl into him and forget it, but know you can’t get caught in bed together lest you want to get a scolding from your grandmother, so you decide you have to part with the solace of being snuggled up with him.
Javi is sleeping so soundly that you’re able to easily shimmy out from under his hold and tuck the covers back around his shoulders without stirring him. He looks so serene, and it makes something tickle in the back of your breastbone – gazing down at him like this. It’s hard to believe that at one point, he’d just been el guapo descarado to you. And now? He’s the man you love and want to cherish, having become the most important person in your life, whom you feel the safest with. It’s a dizzying realization – to feel like this, to be in love so completely, and to not be afraid of it.
I never want to be without him.
The fawning thought has you feeling a fizzling glee bubble up in you, and before you let it carry you away on some enamored flight of fancy, you sneak out of the bedroom and tiptoe back into the one right across the hall. You quickly change into a comfy sweatshirt and matching pair of baggy joggers, go to the restroom, wash your face and brush your teeth, then go busy yourself in the kitchen. By the time your grandmother enters a few minutes later, you’ve peeled and cut a nice assortment of fruits that sit in a bowl on the counter, and are currently chopping the onions, bell peppers and tomatoes for the huevos pericos you decided to make.
“You’re up early!” she jovially marvels and ambles over to affectionately hug you, kissing you on the cheek before she begins to muse, “Go sit—”
“I want to cook. Can you supervise? I’m going to try and make your pandebonos,” you gently insist and declare, smiling reassuringly at her.
She nods, impressed, and goes to put out all the ingredients you’ll need for the temperamental treats. “I’ll start the coffee,” she announces as she grabs the kettle pieces.
“Can you show me how to prep the cafetera?” you request as you place the chopped ingredients aside. “I can never get it right. Coffee comes out tasting burnt or with grounds in it,” you sorely grumble as you stand next to her at the counter.
She seems pleasantly surprised by your interest. After all, every time before she’d tried to show you, you’d dismissed that she made the coffee best anyway. Impish, she lilts, “Seems someone has inspired your urges for domesticity.”
Snickering, you surprise her yet again by remarking simply, “Seems he has.”
She smiles beamingly and contains her impulse to barrage you with questions in order to instead show you the expert way to brew the perfect coffee using the old-school stove kettle. The neighborhood rooster is crowing distantly while she stands next to you at the sink and shows you how to measure the amount of water to pour into the base. “See the stopper here? It shouldn’t go beyond this point.” She then grabs the can of coffee and measures out the grounds before displaying the way to scoop and put the coffee into the metal basket, emphasizing that you should not press down on it. “—You just need to brush off the excess with the sweep of your finger, and then you can place it in,” she instructs as she shows you, then hands the base and top for you to screw on and place on the stove. “Then, you just listen for it to brew, and mind keeping it on the burner for too long. You then want to set it aside to cool.”
Once you’ve followed all the steps and have the coffee kettle cooling on the back of the stove, she sits at the table and watches you shred the cheese for the pandebonos, instructing you on how to sift it, then the right mixture of the harinas to use; the blend of salt and sugar needed; the ground cheese and egg you need to add in before you whisk; how much milk you should include and the butter needed before mixing it all up into the dough you’ll need to let rest. Once it’s set aside, you butter the pan for the juevos pericos and place the chopped veggies in before making a cup of coffee for your abuela, who is watching you intently now.
You sense it. It’s been long enough, and you are rescind to it, so you place the cup in front of her with the sugar bowl and a spoon for her before returning to the stove.
“What happened yesterday…that was no mistake. Those men grabbed you with care, yes, but it was obvious they hadn’t mistaken you for someone else. What was all of that about?”
It takes you a moment to collect your thoughts, so you use that time to tend to the eggs in the pan. “I’m not entirely sure—”
“Don’t lie to me.”
You turn to glance at her, and see she’s sternly eyeing you. She hasn’t even touched her coffee, and her eyes are flaring with worry.
“’Buela…it’s best I don’t tell you. Everything is sorted and that will never happen again—” you begin to mollify.
“What does Javier really do,” she queries suddenly, eyes narrowing sharply on you when you press your lips together and turn away. “Lindita, I had the fright of my life yesterday. As soon as I got home, I ran to find his number, and within hours he was here. He went off with that officer, and within no time, he was bringing you home,” she narrates firmly, and you switch the stove off and set the pan aside to turn and face her. “That is not something just anyone at an embassy can do. What does he really do?”
Sighing, you idly grab a dishtowel and start wringing it in your hands, trying to quell the nervous energy as you calmly parcel out, “Javier works for the DEA. When we met, he was a field agent. He and his partner helped take down the Medellín cartel. Since then, he was promoted to be the DEA country attaché. He runs the DEA here in Colombia, and for obvious reasons, I wanted to keep all of that private.”
While you told her, your grandmother’s expression shuttered in, becoming stoic as she absorbed the details and formulated conclusions of her own.
“I thank God for him. But, if you’re in any danger, because of what he does,” she begins to ruminate out loud, and when you tense, she pauses, clarifying, “If you both are in danger, I don’t think I could bare it. Is this really something you’ve considered? That you’ve really thought about? The risk to him and to you?”
You are resolutely clear as the answer springs up in you. “Yes. We’ve talked about this – what it means for each of us, and the way we would need to go about things. Since we first started seeing each other, it’s always been a concern and something Javi and I have been mindful to protect against. Yesterday was a fluke – something completely random and I was in no way in true danger. I don’t want you to worry,” you state with sincerity as you go to sit with her at the kitchen table. You take her hand and squeeze when she frowns apprehensively. “I promise, we’re not in danger. I trust Javi with my life. All he’s ever done is protect me, and gone out of his way to make sure I’m safe. I love him, and…he loves me. We’ll take care of each other, and I’ll be much more careful. So please, don’t worry about us.”
She lets out a shaky sigh before patting her other hand over yours – effectively clasping it in her warm, strong hold. “Well then…can I look forward to helping plan another wedding soon?” she chimes eagerly, and you scoff and hang your head, shaking it amusedly. “I’m not getting any younger, lindita!”
Before you can answer, you look over your shoulder towards the entry of the kitchen when you hear a familiar sound – the rattle of the band of Javi’s watch as he absently shakes it on his wrist to settle it comfortably in place after he’s clasped it on. Just then, he rounds the corner and enters from the hall. He’s fully dressed, wearing a pair of his perfect dark blue jeans, a well-worn pair of leather boots, and a tucked in, off-white-colored, short-sleeved snap-buttoned shirt with breast pockets. His hair is brushed, face clean-shaven – save for his handsomely trimmed moustache, and he looks sheepish as he comes in and sees you both looking over at him, as if you’d both conjured him and were pleased with the results.
“Uh…buenos días,” he remarks innocently, and you squint your eyes at him, not believing his ‘oh, I just waltzed in unaware of what you’re talking about’ airs, but say nothing as you stand and gesture for him to sit down. “Mornin’, ma'am,” he leans over and kisses your grandmother on the cheek before sitting in the chair you’ve vacated, smiling when you place a cup of coffee in front of him and peck him on the lips chastely. His eyes get a little molten when he recognizes the sweatshirt you’re wearing as the same one you’d had on when he’d stormed into your place and fucked you into oblivion and back not so long ago. Affectionately looping his arm around your waist to give your hip a squeeze, he rumbles, “You should’ve woken me to help with breakfast—”
“Oh, quit it with the boy scout routine, suavón,” you snicker at him and cheekily caress his forearm before shying out of his embrace. “I’ll prep the dough once I finish getting ready, 'Buela,” is your musing as you serve the eggs onto two plates and place them at the table for them, offering the cutlery and napkin to each before snickering, “Eat, and behave while I’m gone.”
“Hah, sure, we will. Isn’t that right, mijo?” your grandmother chuckles conspiratorially over at Javi, who shoots you a smug smirk.
“Ugh, you two are incorrigible…” you grumble humorously and lope out of the kitchen.
Javi snorts and looks over at your grandmother once he’s sure he’s heard you shut the bathroom door at the end of the hall. “All right, bust out that photo album for me?” he petitions and bounces his brows charmingly.
Gleefully, your grandmother hops up and goes to retrieve it. While she’s gone, he takes a long sip of the coffee, smiling at how great it tastes, going down smoother knowing that you brewed it.
Yep, he’d been listening. When he’d woken up thanks to the crow of the rooster in the back neighbor’s yard, Javi had jerked up in bed, looking around the room and trying to get his bearings before awareness set in. At not finding you in bed with him, he’d gotten up and silently opened the door to the bedroom in order to peek out and see if you’d gone to sleep in the other room. Hearing your voices, he’d tiptoed down and stayed tucked against the hallway’s wall, listening to you be walked through how to prep the kettle. Smiling, Javier had wandered back to the room, grabbed his things, and gone to take a quick shower. After he’d finished dressing and went to get his boots and belt on once he’d stored his things in the duffle, he’d stealthily returned to the eavesdropping stop in the hall, expecting to hear you both pleasantly chatting.
He instead heard your grandmother pressing you for answers. Worriedly, he expected you to shut her down and possibly end up in a reticent standoff with her. So, when you’d just sincerely answered her and made it clear how you feel, Javi had felt punch-drunk. So much so, he vacantly clasped his watch on and realized his mistake the moment he’d shaken his wrist to settle it into place. He’d had no choice but to lope in and feign like he’d not been eavesdropping.
Having heard what you’d said had left him feeling charged and worthy. It was a dazzling feeling to hear you speak so matter-of-factly to someone else about what you feel for each other. Made it feel like something precious that he was proud to flaunt, and hearing you not immediately shut down your grandmother after her wily remark had cemented his hopes – that 'not being the marrying kind’ was a status in flux for you both now.
As you shower, the thought of that wily question makes you tingle a little. You need to take it one step at a time. Things are still tumultuous. You literally got kidnapped yesterday. Thinking about running down the aisle? Really? Javi wants to get a place with you. Be content with that for now and stop thinking irrationally.
With that scolding, you dry off, get dressed, and lope down to return to the kitchen, expecting to find the two of them finishing their coffees.
You instead find Javi perusing your abuela’s photo album while she’s at the stove, prepping the baking tray and preheating the oven.
“Why?!” you admonish, glowering huffily at the two of them. “I literally told you two to behave, and here’s this one looking at my embarrassing pictures and you at the stove?!”
“I’m only prepping! I haven’t even touched the dough,” she defends, adding comically, “He asked me to get the album!”
Javi gives you both a wide-eyed gape, feeling thrown to the wolves. He sits back in the chair and gives you a puppy-eyed once over, admiring your flirty purple tunic dress with a keyhole cutout at the bust and a gold-print embroidered along the bottom hem and elbow-length sleeves. When you narrow your eyes at him, he just shrugs. “I regret nothing.”
You snicker and shake your head, relenting, “Fine, malvadito. Go ahead and get a gander. I’ll remember this when I have a chance to pester your father for photo albums!”
The three of you settle into a jovial banter as your grandmother shows you how to roll the dough into little bundles and place them on the parchment paper-lined baking tray. Once said tray is slid into the oven, she excuses herself to go get freshened up for the day, remarking, “Don’t be surprised if that crew from yesterday come over later!” as she hurries out of the kitchen, intent to give you two some privacy.
“Told you,” you chortle to him after you’ve loped back over to sit at the table with him after you washed your hands and dried them.
Javi snickers and tows you over to him before you get to the vacant chair. He hugs you, resting his forehead to just below your sternum, and inhales your perfumed scent. “You haven’t eaten. Sit and relax,” he murmurs before guiding you onto his lap.
You smile and loop your arms around his neck, leaning into him. “You just want to keep looking at the photo album, don’t yah,” you mumble against his neck.
He chuckles and nods, kissing your temple before nuzzling into your hair. You pivot to get comfy on his lap and begin to eat the food that’s left on his plate. Relaxed, you manage to keep an eye on the oven as he flips through pages of the album, admiring the black and white portraits, sepia-toned snapshots, and yellowed prints of relatives from far back until he flips to the photos of a woman who looks so much like you, yet different. She’s gorgeous, seeming to glow with a vibrancy and convivial aura that radiate through her lovely smile. When he glances at you, he sees you looking fondly at the photo of your mother, expression softening as you think back at how she looked in your dream that time.
When Javi flips onto the page with your parents’ wedding photo, he takes time to catalogue it. Your parents are posing as tradition would call for: Stoic, albeit embracing and looking young and hopeful. She looks ethereal in her demure wedding gown and lace veil while your father is dressed sharp, shoes polished and hair brushed back. You hum and flip the page over for him, grumbling, “Might as well get to the cringe-worthy photos and get it over with.”
The album at this point is cluttered with your baby pictures, and Javi delights in seeing you look like a cherubic infant, a bright-smiling toddler, and then a sprite-eyed hellion. When he’d last gotten a peek at the album, your grandmother had flipped it to your school photo section, which he turns onto now and grins. “How wicked were you in this photo,” he chuckles, snickering when you roll your eyes. “Be honest, preciosa.”
“I was pretty bad, yes,” you chime sardonically, looking down at your younger self with the blunt bangs and long pigtails, wearing the green plaid jumper and yellow puffy-sleeved blouse. “I was annoyed that day. It was my first semester in the school in Virginia, and my mother made me wear this stupid jumper for the school photo. I walked out of it in a sulk and some boys ran up to tease me over my clothes, and one of them pulled on my pigtail, and I ran after him and started beating him up.”
Javi laughs out, picturing the little girl in the photo going ballistic on a kid in a school hallway. He has to bury his face in the back of your shoulder to keep from guffawing when you scrunch up your face in disdain at his reaction. “Keep laughing, jodón. I cannot wait to get my hands on your baby pictures,” you declare and wiggle daringly in his lap, forcing him to encircle an arm around your waist to pin you into place.
“Yeah, yeah, bravita. Mine are nowhere near as cute as yours,” he taunts as he flips onto the next page and sees a picture of you holding you baby cousin in your arms. He smiles at how excitedly grinning you are in the photo cuddling the baby close to your chest.
You’d told him once about the brother that you almost had. How excited you’d been as a little girl, and how confused you’d been when your father had packed up the blue baby things and donated them.
“Oh! Let me check the oven,” you suddenly pipe and climb off his lap, but not before wiggling your backside against his crotch one more time.
He grunts and gives you a surly grunt and provocative look as you innocently saunter to the stove and open the oven, inspecting the golden brown, puffed up breads. Pleased, you get the mittens and retrieve the tray, setting it onto the stovetop and shutting the oven closed and off. By then, your grandmother has sauntered back in, dressed in a pleated long skirt and a nice blouse and cardigan set.
“Ah, they came out lovely! Good job, mija,” she praises as she peeks at the tray.
“Gotta see if they taste as good as yours first,” you remark as you grab the kettle and pour yourself a cup.
Once they’re cool enough, you each have one, and at Javi humming with gusto and your grandmother chewing with her eyes smiling approvingly? You bite into yours and are content. Soon enough, Javi’s had three more with another cup of coffee as you chat about the upcoming wedding.
Frowning, you lament, “Oh, we didn’t get to shop for dresses!”
“Well, maybe we could go today—”
A loud knocking coming from the front door interrupts the conversation, and you and your grandmother exchange duo looks of reluctance when your aunt calls through the door, “Hello! We brought food, comadre!”
Pursing your lips comically, you follow your grandmother out to answer the door while Javi sneaks another pandebono and munches on it before going to join you.
As promised, your aunt, cousin and Miguel are at the door with all sorts of goodies, and after everyone exchanges greetings, mother and daughter set up shop in the kitchen to start making lunch. Javi’s eyes are twinkling at the prospect of being spoiled silly today with all the great food, and claps Miguel on the back good-naturedly when he covertly shows him a peek at the bottle of whiskey he’s carrying along with the six-pack of beers.
“—My parents might be stopping by to say hello too,” he declares over all the chatter in the kitchen, and your grandmother decides to send you to her pantry for supplies while the stove is taken up for empanada making.
By the time they’re coming out of the frying pan, the impromptu gathering has increased with the arrival of your cousin’s soon-to-be in-laws, so you go to set up some foldout chairs and open the back and front door to let the air circulate. Javi carries the chairs and helps you set them out, and quickly ends up being talked up by everyone. After all, they’re eager to get to know him, being the first man you’ve ever brought around, and while your grandmother agreed to keep Javi’s job a secret, you’re concerned your aunt and cousin will broach the line of questioning they’d been forced to abandon the evening prior. Luckily, though, they seem too swept up in chatter about the wedding, so you are happy to sit and have girl talk while your grandmother hands a platter stacked with empanadas to the men, the rest of the cold beers in the fridge, and dutifully tells them to park in the living room.
Miguel, his father, and youngest brother sit around chatting with Javi about soccer teams, and after a while of that, they end up moving out to the front porch, where Miguel sets up a domino table so they can all play. You check on him by peering out the screen door, watching how he laughs at jokes and listens to Miguel explain the promotion he got. Once the proper early dinner is ready, you call them in and everyone squeezes in around the kitchen table, merrily conversing. Your aunt asks Javi where he’s from, and once he answers, he elaborates that his people came from Tamaulipas and over generations moved north into Texas. They listen to him talk about Laredo, laugh at his jokes about being the last single cousin standing, and enjoy the PG-version of the story he and Miguel tell of how they’d first met.
“—Needless to say, I owed him an apology. I’m lucky you didn’t slug me for it,” Javi is quipping before taking a pull from his beer bottle.
“Honestly? I was so confused and off-guard, it didn’t even occur to me,” Miguel snickers and glowers when his brother face palms. “What?! You did not see this dude! He looked ready to toss me across the club—”
“Ay, what an exaggerator you are!” your cousin snipes sarcastically and nudges her shoulder into his side while Javi tucks his chin to hide his meek smirk when you affectionately squeeze his thigh under the table.
When he looks at you, he sees the smolder in your eyes, and has to stifle his reaction as your hand glides up to rub up along his inner thigh, achingly close to his crotch.
You can’t help it. Watching him being so warm and charismatic? Jovial and open with your family? How he smiles and laughs with cool ease, treating them like he’s known them for ages? It turns you on. This whole effortless, domestic respite with him has you yearning, thinking things you never have, and wanting him with a ridiculous intensity that has your thighs clenching, your pussy throbbing to be his.
Obviously, though, there is no opportunity for you to drag him away and just get ravished like you’re desperate for, but it doesn’t mean you can’t shoot lustful glances his way and wickedly delight in how he blushes and tries to keep his features cool and unruffled.
After dinner, you help make some buñuelos and a fresh brew of coffee, enjoying how everyone hangs out in the living room and talk more about the wedding next Sunday. You tell your cousin that since you didn’t get to do a bridal shower, you’d be booking a hotel room for all of you to use to get ready for the ceremony, and she beams, gushing about how she can have her beautician friends set up there for hair and makeup. Talk goes to how Miguel proposed, and you’re grinning as she makes him get all flustered by detailing it unabashedly before dramatically flapping her hand to show off her engagement ring. You’ve seen it earlier in the week, but snicker when his mother beams about how nervous he’d been, and how he’d asked her and his three sisters to go with him to help pick out the perfect anillo.
Javi watches with bated breath as your cousin takes the ring off and hands it to you so you can see the engraving he’d had set within the band. Smiling when you see it’s her and Miguel’s first initials, you’re about to hand it back when she cajoles you to try it on. He can’t help size up how you and your cousin have similarly tapered fingers and dainty hands, so he’s disappointed when you roll your eyes and shake your head. “—It’s bad luck to have someone else put on your engagement ring!” you tell her before handing it back.
Before Javi can internally brood, Miguel signals for the men to leave you all to gab about the wedding by flashing the whiskey bottle in the paper bag in his hands and gesturing with a tip of his head to return to the domino table outside. You smirk, shooting Javi another heated look of desire, which causes him to mouth, 'Behave.’
Talk of the plans for next Saturday lead to detailing final arrangements needed, agreeing on who will be cooking what for the reception, transportation to and from, and tentative ideas for the honeymoon. Once your cousin has shown you the colors she’ll use for the bridesmaids dresses, you gasp, remembering the glass terrariums in the back of your car. With car keys in hand, you go out to the porch and ask Javi if he can come with you to retrieve them from the hatchback.
“I’ll get 'em. You stay inside,” he rumbles and plucks the keys from your hand before stealing a kiss from your lips. “I can manage it, querida.”
Pursing your lips at him, you relent and wink. “I’m sure you can, stud,” you remark conversationally so the other men on the porch don’t get clued in, but Javi’s eyes flash with something incandescent at the way you enunciate 'stud’ with an alluring bat of your lashes. He grunts and gives you a look that promises 'You’re gonna get it, naughty girl,’ before he strides off on his errand.
The minute you’re back inside, though, all the women zero in on you. Uh oh…
“So, how serious are you two?”
“Pretty serious if he was willing to thrash Miguel for dancing with her, I’d say.”
“Oh, he seems like such a gentleman! I’m sure they were just exaggerating. He is smitten with you, though, so can we expect to be right back here, planning another wedding soon?”
“I’d say before any of that, he’d have to meet your father and ask his permission,” your aunt remarks and eyes your grandmother, who shakes her head sardonically at the whole exchange. “I remember distinctly how impressed my brother was when he was asked for his blessing. Your father was chivalrous and respectful when he asked, and I would assume he expects nothing less from your suitor, dear.”
You try to respectfully not scoff at your aunt as you lean back in your chair and deflect, “I’m not on speaking terms with my father, as you well know, so there’s no concern—”
“Ah! So you’re saying you’d be the 'marrying kind’ for him, eh?” your cousin cuts in, impishly.
Giving her a mocking glare, you snipe, “I didn’t say that at all. I’m just saying that if I was, my father’s approval is not a necessity—”
“But it’s so nice for a man to ask his intended’s father for permission. I know it’s old fashioned, but I think it’s very meaningful. Shows that he respects you and your family enough to ask for their blessing,” Miguel’s mother pipes up before sipping from her cup of coffee.
“Well, the only family I care about is right here. So, would he have your blessing?” you glance at your grandmother, cousin and aunt pointedly.
“Oh, that’s not how that works—” your aunt begins to caveat.
“He has mine!” your cousin interrupts before drawling, “Ma, c'mon. Miguel asked you for permission. Are you saying that it’s not the same because Papi wasn’t around to be asked?”
“N-No, not at all. I’m just saying if your father was still with us, well, it would be meaningful for him to have given his blessing,” she argues back.
“Well, regardless. He has my blessing, lindita. And for what you may feel about your father, I know that it would mean the world to him to have the opportunity to give his blessing and walk you down the aisle,” your grandmother hits you with the sincere musing, smiling warmly as you wilt into your chair, expression stubbornly etched in a glower.
Before you can get bogged down with the sentiments cloying up in you for attention, Javi opens the screen door and fumbles in with the bags, mindful of the glass but also not wanting to kick at the door to stay open. You rush to aid him, taking the bags from him and thanking him before he glances over at the pregnant glances he’s getting from the other women. Before it can get any more obvious, you shoo him back outside and take the bags over to the kitchen as you tell your cousin, “Come look at these! I think with the sea-glass and shells, we could make really pretty table arrangements.”
As they all go to follow you, Javi sits back down at the domino table and takes a deep swallow of his whiskey before noticing Miguel eyeing him knowingly.
Yep. He’d heard all of that, and Miguel had watched him loiter on the stoop, listening, before he made his way up and feigned like he’d just walked back from the car. “She’s tough, man. And I’ve never met her father, but my girl’s told me stories. He’s an intense dude,” Miguel remarks, and his brother and father intriguingly ask him to elaborate. “I only mean he’s a big shot. U.S. Navy guy. Used to be on that special team? The ones they send behind enemy lines—”
“Navy Seals,” Javi offers with a nod, thanking the younger brother for topping his glass off.
“Yeah! Like, super tough, cutthroat and serious guy. Went on tons of missions, got all these awards for bravery and stuff. But I don’t know, they just don’t get along. He calls every major holiday, when he knows she’s here with family, but she refuses to talk to him,” Miguel explains to his father and brother.
Javi knows all this, and simply sips his drink. The mystique of your father is something he’s rarely broached, mindful of what he does know to respect that it’s something you will talk about if you feel like it. He knows what happened years ago – the devastating grief you went through when you lost your mother, how you blame your father for it, and ultimately, how resentful you are by how he picked up and seemingly moved on with his life not soon after. The entire aftermath of what happened with that bastard Roman only strained your relationship further, leaving it in tatters, of which you had no interest in repairing.
Still, it was a new wrinkle in things. If your family felt it was the right thing to go to the man for his permission and blessing in asking for your hand in marriage, Javi felt it was something he needed to do. And while you might have walls up against the man, he had no reason to hate or shun your father, and wondered how you would feel if he expressed interest in meeting him.
Before his train of thought could run away with him, the arrival of three other women who share a resemblance pulls him away, and Miguel jumps up to greet them, introducing Javi to his sisters in turn. At the new arrivals, you all go out to say hello and invite them in for dinner. They’re each carrying big baskets filled with assortments of viandas and some fruits from their humble backyard fincas. Each hands over the bounties to your grandmother and aunt as gifts, and both beam at the offerings before eagerly parceling things out evenly between them.
“—Lindita, can you take these and store them in the shed out back? They’ll keep perfect there in the coolness and shade,” your abuela asks and directs, and you grab one of the bags, glance at Javi, and deliberately leave the other on the counter, hoping he’ll take the hint.
He most definitely does, and grabs the bag when everyone is preoccupied in the living room now, before he follows the path you took out the back door. It’s now late in the day, with dusk cresting over the neighborhood and the clime becoming a pleasant chill. He makes it out the back patio and glances out at the nice and appointed backyard, spotting the shed in question tucked against the back corner, near the shadier side of the property, and across from the herb garden.
Javier traverses the grass and finds the shed open, with the single bulb on, but no you.
The bag you’d brought is on the long workbench tucked against the wall, so he lopes in and places the one he’s carrying next to it. The shift of the air when the door closes behind him surprises Javi. That is, until he hears your footsteps come up behind him from where you’d been tucked hidden on the other side of the open door before you loop your arms around his waist and lean into him.
“I’m sorry for all the hubbub,” you murmur into his back, smiling when he scoffs and turns easily in your arms so he can hold you and gaze affectionately down into your sultry expression.
“Don’t be silly. I’ve had a great time,” he chuckles, intending to pull you along to go back to the house, when you resist, surprising him when you suddenly press him back against the workbench. “Querida—”
“Shush. I’ve been dying to do this since yesterday,” you growl as you fist your hand in the back of his hair and tug him down to meet your hungry kiss.
Torridly, you press flush against him, twirling your tongue lasciviously along his, drinking his groan of desire and becoming alight when his hands paw you into his embrace.
Javi gasps when you nip at his bottom lip and arch for more, so he picks you up and sits you on top of the workbench to stand between your open legs before wrapping his arms around your lower back to yank you flush against him in order to kiss a searing path from your mouth to your clavicle. You grip at his shoulders and mewl, angling your pelvis to the edge of the counter and grinding against the front of his jeans.
“F-Fuck, cariño, we can’t,” he groans and leans back, sparing a frantic look backward to make sure no one can see or hear you two – as if they could through the closed door. You protest and pull him into you, suckling a kiss into the column of his neck and pawing your hands down his sides to the front of his waist before tugging on his belt. “Mmph, baby—” he begins to warn in a husky grouse, but you kiss him, lips beseeching and sensual as they worship his own and coax him back into the heated make-out session.
When you try to resume unbuckling his belt, Javi stops you once again, so you whine in protest and break the kiss. “I want you,” you heatedly murmur and wrap your legs around him. “Please, Javi—”
“Jesus fucking Christ, I want you too. But we can't—” he begins to grumble, just as worked up, but halts when you lean back and give him a scintillating stare as you take his hand at your waist and guide it to feel between your thighs. “S-Shit, mi amor,” he groans when his fingers rub along the crotch of your panties, finding them soaked through with your arousal. “You’re so fucking wet,” is his growl as he keeps touching you over the drenched fabric, which has you biting your lip to stifle a needy mewl. “You…you’re gonna be a good girl, and just let me get you off. Then, we’re going back to the house and you will behave the rest of the night,” he’s assertively instructing as he nuzzles along your neck, suckling a teasing path down to your chest, where he rests his forehead and sighs when you whimper in protest. “It’s that, or I stop.”
Squirming, you plant your hands down on the workbench and nod vigorously in assent. Javi surprises you by yanking you off the counter and spinning you around to brace your front over his forearm to rest on the workbench, while his other hand rucks the crotch of your panties aside and cups your warm, tingling pussy. He hitches himself against you from behind, so you can feel how rock-hard he is for you in his jeans, and proceeds to finger-fuck you. His thick digits plunge into your throbbing cunt and the pad of his thumb seats itself over your aching clit while he greedily kisses you over your shoulder in order to smother your whimpers and cries of pleasure.
At the mercy of him in this position – standing on your leather-flat-clad tippy toes and braced forward against the surface of the workbench, hands splayed out in front of you for purchase. Not to mention with Javi’s hard-on rutting against your ass – you’re quickly worked into a frenzy that has you careening towards climax. And when it hits after he corkscrews his fingers into your rippling sheath and curves them simultaneously with the grind of his thumb on your clit, you shatter with pleasure, gasping a sob of ecstasy as Javi makes you come all over his hand.
He prolongs yours bliss with his fingers working in and out of your tingling cunt until you go lax in his embrace and he has to hold you from melting onto your knees on the plank floor.
“Got you, mi corazón. I’ve got you,” he coos before he kisses you back to your senses. “Now, I’m going to take care of you, then you’re going to be good for me and come back to the house, right?”
You dimly nod and obediently turn around in his arms, leaning against the workbench so he can right your appearance. He rucks your panties back into place, pets your hair out of your face and back over your shoulders, and stands back from you to palm the crotch of his jeans before adjusting himself to not be obviously sporting a boner when he walks back into the house. As he does so, he judiciously sucks his fingers clean of your slick and laves his tongue along his palm until he’s sure he can wipe it on the taut denim of his thigh without risking leaving an unseemly stain.
Satisfied, he herds you close, nuzzling a loving kiss into your temple before affectionately patting your ass and husking, “Alright, you go in first. I’ll be right behind you, hermosa.”
You dreamily smile up at him and steal one last luscious kiss from his full, pillowed lips before opening the shed door and flouncing out, crossing the ample yard and trotting up to the patio. Javi watches you go, internally swearing that you’re going to be the death of him – either from how deeply he loves you, or from the insane case of blue balls he now has. Grunting to himself, he switches the bulb off and walks out, closing the shed behind himself.
When he looks at his watch, he times that the entire tryst took maybe fifteen minutes, and hopes it wasn’t long enough of an absence to have been noticed. His cock is aching in his jeans – face feeling hot in the cool evening air, and he’s now craving a cigarette badly.
He sneaks back into the house and gets to the bedroom his duffle is in to rifle through it for the packet of nicotine gum he’s sure he shoved into one of the pockets. He finds it in the second pocket he shoves his hand in. The first had your pilfered panties in it. He figures he’ll need them later tonight, at the rate he’s going. Returning to the living room, chewing the gum and nonchalantly slipping back into the amiable gathering, Javi finds you blithely sitting on the couch, talking to one of Miguel’s sisters.
No one seems to have noticed you’d both slipped away, so he pleasantly chats the rest of the while with Miguel and the brother until the first of the wave of departures start. The sisters say goodnight, then Miguel’s parents, and soon after, your aunt and cousin hug you tight and wish you a safe trip back.
“—See you next week, Javi! Be sure to keep myprima from getting kidnapped any more,” your cousin cheekily demands as she hugs Javi before Miguel shakes his hand and claps him on the back in farewell.
“That’s the plan,” Javi quips, kissing your aunt on the cheek and wishing her a goodnight as well.
You snicker and wave goodbye, then shut the door and lock up before turning to catch your grandmother conspiratorially whispering something in Javier’s ear, watching as his expression quirks with something akin to flustered guilt.
Arching a brow questioningly at them, you purse your lips when she sees she’s caught. Your grandmother just adjusts her braid over her shoulder and declares, “Do an old woman a favor and tidy up? All this socializing has me tuckered out! I’m going to bed. See you both bright and early,” then kisses Javi and you on the cheek goodnight before retiring to her bedroom down the hall.
Furrowing your brow at him, he rubs at the back of his neck bashfully, so you sigh and shake your head amusedly before chiming silkily, “Want to put away the chairs while I tackle the kitchen?”
Giving you a lopsided smirk, he nods, pecks you on the cheek, and pats you on the ass affectionately before rumbling, “Ándale, gatita.”
You snicker and hop to it, shooting him a flirty glance over your shoulder as you saunter into the kitchen.
You’ve managed to scrub the pots and pans, washed and rinsed the utensils and plates, and are in the middle of finishing with all the cups and glasses when he lopes in and clocks in next to you, grabbing a dishtowel and working on drying everything requiring it before it gets stored in the cupboards. The house is quiet, save for the lulling breeze coming through the backdoor’s screen and through the windows, so you are content to listen to the rustling of the trees and the soft chirp of the nocturnal animals humming through the neighborhood.
Once he’s stored the last plate in the cabinet, Javi tosses his gum into the trash before pulling it out and knotting the bag to be chucked outside. When he comes back in from setting the garbage out, he finds you wiping down the counter and righting the chairs into alignment into the table. He takes the moment to watch you, content and unburdened by the usual stresses that plague him, and feeling miles away from what happened the day before. You were safe, vibrant and fucking sexy as you move around the kitchen, now storing the dishrag to drape over next to the sink while you tidy up the sugar and coffee containers back onto their cubby on the counter.
Smiling, you peek at him over your shoulder, making it clear with the alluring crinkle of your dazzling eyes that you knew he was there the whole time, just standing and gazing at you so.
“Well?” you query as you turn and lean back against the lip of the counter. When he grunts and crosses his arms to lean his shoulder coolly into the doorframe, you press, “What was she whispering in your ear, hmm?”
He nips at his bottom lip as he tucks his chin bashfully into his chest and peers over sheepishly at you with those coffee-brewed eyes of his. “She said that she’d been happy to run interference for us, and that we were lucky no one really noticed how smiley you were or how flushed I was from our trip to the shed,” he tells you and self-consciously rubs his hand along his jaw. Eyes lighting up with mirth, you sputter to contain your giggles. “It's not funny, atrevida—”
“Aww, it’s not?” you croon playfully as you strut over to lean into him, grinning when he grunts testily and seats his hands just above your hips. “Javier, if you’ve forgotten, we’re grown adults. It’s the 90’s. She knows I have sex—”
“Cristo amado, preciosa. I know that, but c'mon, it’s mortifying,” is his surly grumble, and you amusedly caress your hands impishly up his chest to squeeze his shoulders. “Hey, I told you to behave.”
“I am behaving,” you counter, adding glibly, “I’m not pouncing on you. I want to climb you like a tree right now, but I'm behaving.”
He blows a raspberry at that and shakes his head, smiling when you encircle your arms around his waist and hug him. Acerbically, he drawls, “We can’t fool around in the house. No way I’m risking getting caught—”
“Oh my god, who knew you were so old-fashioned and traditional, not to mention so easy to embarrass,” you tease, looping your arms around his shoulders now and wrinkling your nose goofily at him when he rolls his eyes snootily. “You’re a shameless strumpet most days—”
“Strumpet?!” he sneers humorously, squinting down at your mischievous smile and squeezing your waist puckishly. “Alright, you’re winding me up to get a rise out of me, but it ain’t happening, burlona. Now, you done in here? Because we have a long-ass drive ahead of us tomorrow,” Javi chidingly grouses, but there’s no real edge to it, especially when you bat your lashes and dampen your lips sexily at him. “Well?” he drones, holding firm as he arches his brow and eyes you stubbornly.
With a dramatic huff, you step back and shut the kitchen light off. “Yes, gruñón. All done. I’m going to straighten things up in the living room. You go take a shower and unwind,” you sigh and pleasantly caress his cheek before kissing him on the lips tenderly.
“Fine, but don’t stay up too late,” he purrs and nuzzles your jaw before pinching your waist lovingly.
You hum agreeably and nudge him along before strutting into the living room to right the cushions and move the coffee table back into alignment with the couch. Javi fondly watches you before forcing himself to go shower and get ready for bed.
He’s been lying under the covers for a few minutes now, trying to control his libido and avoid succumbing to his horny needs. After all, he certainly doesn’t feel right jerking off to get the release he’s been aching for most of the night, and is mortified by the thought he could be walked in on. So, he’s rubbing at his forehead and silently trying to conjure all the things that are a turn-off in an attempt to cool his arousal.
He hears the turn of the doorknob and the soft click, so he drops his hand from his forehead and glances over in time to see you breeze in and shut the door soundlessly. You’re in that demure-yet-sexy nightgown, and it’s the last thing he needs to see right now when he’s grappling with his baser desires.
“Querida…” he begins to admonish, but when you turn to look at him, it’s pure seduction in your eyes, and you smile angelically as you scamper over to the bed and begin to climb onto it. “…You…you’re not behaving right now,” he murmurs and begins to sit up, when you prowl over him and push him back down into the pillow. “We can't—”
“I know. We’re not doing anything, hermoso,” you whisper and brush your hand over his hair soothingly before caressing soft, petal-gentle kisses along his countenance as you susurrate, “I’m going to make you feel good. And you’re going to be a good boy and let me take care of you, because you deserve it, and it makes me feel special to make you feel as good as you make me feel.”
Javi lights up, stretching out under you and becoming pliant as you finally brush your lips over his. The amorous kiss and your sultry petition have him throbbing in his pajama bottoms, so you maneuver the covers over and straddle his thighs in order to worshipfully trail your lips down his torso towards the bulge beyond his waistband. His abs tense and a shaky hum catches in his chest when you swipe your tongue above his navel before pressing an open-mouth kiss over it.
Arching when you tug the waistband of his bottoms away to free his thick erection, Javi has to clamp his hand over his mouth to snuff his needy groan when your mouth begins mapping the underside of his cock. You suck on his frenulum, palming his steel-wrapped-in-velvet shaft in order to kiss along it lovingly. He’s already so worked up that pre-cum has collected at the head of his swollen tip, so you decide to not tease him any longer.
The soft, wet slide of him being sucked into your warm mouth has Javi’s eyes fluttering shut as he moans into his hand and writhes up for more, bucking his hips when you hum and hollow out your cheeks around his throbbing cock.
You love giving him pleasure like this. It makes you feel powerful, able to strum delight through him, to dominate him while on your knees as you try not to choke on his cock. It’s exhilarating when you know he’s wound up and edgy about getting caught, but desperate to get off after going without for so long. And while it’s got you wet and needy for him, you concentrate on sucking him off the way you know he likes it, and when you cup his balls and squeeze lightly, Javi buries his whine into his palm before fisting his free hand in the bedding as his cock swells and strains in your mouth just before he fills it with his climax.
Accomplishedly, you moan around him and stroke him through it while you swallow his spill, making sure to milk his cock of his release until he’s shivering and panting harshly against his hand.
Javi melts heavily into the bed on a reedy exhale, hand flopping onto his chest just below a collarbone as he drunkenly recovers and dimly feels you shift to tenderly kiss his softening length before you adjust the cotton bottoms back into place. Your warm lips trail up his midriff before you lean to cheekily flick the tip of your tongue over his nipple. He lets out a charge breath and snickers as he moves his hand from his chest to bury in the back of your hair in order to guide you down to lie on top of him.
“I love you so much. Today was so…wonderful. Yesterday feels like it was a bad dream. That’s because of you…how you make me feel,” you find yourself speaking your stream of consciousness in a soft whisper while Javi combs his fingers through your hair as his other hand caresses gently along the back of your shoulder. “I…I want to make you feel just as good—”
“You do,” he rumbles and nuzzles you. “You always do. I love you too.”
Buzzing with the wave of happiness his words tingle through you, it’s easy for you to lean up and gaze openly at his heavy-lidded eyes and pensive smile. “So does that mean you’re up to misbehave and have hot, passionate sex right now?” you provocatively purr and make your point by straddling his lap so he can feel how warm you are between your thighs.
“Fuuuck,” Javi drags out in a frustrated exhale, heat flaring across his skin and making him burn with need all over again. “You’re a damned temptress, you know that?” is his surly growl as he clasps his hands on your thighs and thwarts you from grinding over him. “You want to get us caught?!”
“I’m willing to risk the chance,” you retort simply, and when he tosses his head back onto the pillow in frustration, you huff and relent. “Alright, fine,” you scoff before shifting off of his lap to lean over him and steal a peck from his lips before stating tauntingly, “You’re such a wannabe choirboy, when you’re really an insatiable stud, but fine, I can control myself and wait until we get home.”
“I’m not the only one who’s insatiable, malvadita,” he grouses and sits up to tow you back over for one last passionate kiss.
He makes you weak in the knees, so much so that when he pulls back, you chase his lips until you pout when he smirks smugly at you. Scoffing, you ruffle his hair daringly and growl, “Tease.”
His chuckle is velvet over steel, so you shove him playfully before standing and sauntering to the door with a parting, “Goodnight, galán,” murmured over your shoulder at him.
“Sleep tight, cariño,” he innocently drawls in that canela-dipped timbre before settling back down into bed and watching you wryly shake your head as you slip out of the room.
You manage to get to sleep, exhaustion taking you into a sound slumber. So much so, that you don’t stir at all the rest of the night. It’s early the next morning when you feel someone stirring you from your deep sleep.
“Lindita. Wake up! Come and see,” your grandmother is whispering as she shakes and pats your shoulder.
“See what?” you groggily mumble as you sit up and yawn into the back of your hand.
She’s smiling giddily, so you push the covers back and scurry out of bed to follow her out of the bedroom to quietly tiptoe down the hall to the kitchen. When you peek in, you practically fawn out loud.
Javi’s wearing a faded gray Henley shirt and dark blue jeans, with one of your grandmother’s aprons looped around his neck and over the front of his torso as he tends to the huevos rancheros sauce he’s stirring in the pan. He’s humming to himself, completely unaware that you’re both peering around the corner with dual Cheshire cat smiles at the sight of him.
Your grandmother squeezes your forearm playfully and beams as she mouths, ’I love him.’
The sublime feeling that fills you up is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced.
’He’s mine, so don’t get any ideas,’ you mouth back to her, and she snickers.
You both sneak back down the hall, rush to get dressed, and then lope back down casually, as if you hadn’t spied on him in the kitchen. When you enter, Javi’s just finished plating the first dish.
“What is this? You dare to cook in my kitchen? For shame, mijo!” your grandmother jokingly scathes as she rushes over to marvel at the meal before leaning up to kiss Javi affectionately on the cheek. “Oh, these are the famous juevos rancheros, eh?”
“They are. And this plate’s for you,” he retorts warmly as he serves the dish and pulls out a chair for her.
“Sucking up to my abuela? Really? She already loves you, you overachiever!” is your snarky tease as you notice he brewed a kettle of coffee. “And you made coffee?!”
“I did,” he chuckles and kisses you chastely on the lips, shooting your faded-but-well-loved David Bowie shirt a teasing glance before he pats the back of your blue-jean-clad hip flirtatiously and drawls, “But need you to warm up the milk and show me how she takes it.”
You see your grandmother swoon merrily behind Javi, so you grin at him before retrieving what you need and showing him. When he takes off the apron, you playfully tug at the front of his stretchy cotton shirt and purr, “No button down?”
“It’s all I had left that was clean in the duffle,” he rumbles and cheekily squeezes your waist before plating the last two dishes and gesturing for you to sit and eat.
Breakfast is a wonderful affair, making it all the more difficult to pack the car and say your goodbyes. The sudden separation anxiety that wells in your chest when you and Javi step out onto the porch causes you to turn and look at your grandmother with a lump in your throat. She senses your distress and holds out her arms to you. The hug is fortifying, and only a couple of tears escape past your lashes and roll down your cheeks as she coos, “I know, mija. I’ll miss you, but you’ll both be back in no time. Everything will be fine.”
You kiss her cheek and nod before quickly swiping your face with the backs of your forefingers to clear the tear streaks. “I’ll call every day. You make sure to let me know if there’s anything needed still that I can help with—”
“You’ve done plenty, mi niña!” she scoffs amusedly before looking at Javi and gesturing to you. “Take care of my lindita, mijo. And be sure to come prepared for quite the celebrating next weekend!”
Javi chuckles and nods before giving her a kiss on the cheek and one last hug goodbye. “Consider it done, ma'am.”
She’s waving enthusiastically from her porch as you both drive off a few minutes later, and that anxiety is completely gone for now, because you look over at Javi after he rests his warm hand lovingly on your thigh, and feel a sense of calm wash over you.
“You sure you don’t want me to drive?” he asks, stare gentle as he adds humorously, “I know our track record in cars when I’m the one driving, but I promise to be on my best behavior.”
You laugh, melodious and enchanting as you shake your head. “It’s fine. We can switch at the halfway mark, if that’s alright,” you chuckle and pat his hand, smiling when he relaxes and leans back into his seat.
As you exit the neighborhood en route for the highway, you remember how you’d promised that you’d tell him what was bothering you at work. So, reluctantly, you figure that since you’re driving onto the freeway now, and it would be a long period before you can pull over, that now might be the best time of any to divulge what happened. Well, more specifically, to tell him some curated version of what happened, seeing as the whole truth might send Javi into a furious spiral. He’s just finished adjusting the passenger seat back to accommodate his height and reached into the back to retrieve his concealed service weapon from his duffle before he opens your glove compartment and stores it in there when you were about to pipe up.
You shoot him a surprised look instead, and he shrugs as he settles back in the seat with a reassuring, “Just in case, is all.”
Nodding, you concentrate on the road ahead, deliberating while he goes into his back pocket for the packet of nicotine gum and pops one loose. As he’s chewing on it and admiring how your perfume entwines with the fresh smell your car’s little air freshener’s scent thanks to the air conditioning keeping the interior cool under the rising heat of the early morning sun, you reach for the radio and turn the soft salsa down further before clearing your throat.
“So…since all we have is plenty of time to kill, I figure now is a decent time to tell you about what’s been bothering me,” you offer cautiously, sparing him a sidelong glance as you get in the cruising lane.
Javi perks up at that and stretches out his legs, pushing his sleeves up to his elbows before he crosses his arms casually. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to, querida,” he assures, brown eyes gentle as they regard your pensive expression.
“Well, to be honest, I don’t want to tell you at all, but I promised, so I’d rather do it now before we get home,” you sincerely retort and let out a sigh when his gaze sharpens at that. “First off…you were right. Something happened at work that made me feel the need to expedite the linkup here. Missing the deadline for it would’ve set us back for a launch with state
Hello, my dears! Sorry for the long lapse in posting, but I’m back with a mega pint of a chapter (yes, I said it. Sue me) that I hope will make up for the lull.
Pairing: Javier Peña/F!Reader
Rating: Mature/Explicit
Character Count: 21,500+
Summary: After a perilous event, you and Javi find solace in the respite of being together amongst a surprising support system. But when it’s time to confront truths, will you both be able to protect each other and stay grounded in the love that tethers you together?
Warnings: Javier Peña being the ultimate BAE. Graphic descriptions of sex, including explicit depictions of oral (m+f receiving) and unprotected sex. Mentions of hurt/comfort, emotional trauma, toxic coping mechanisms, and suppressed feelings. Descriptions of raunchy behavior, light dom/sub play, cum play, size kink, praise kink, and dirty talk. Allusions to triggering events, foreboding threats, and psychological trauma. Some Protective!Javi, Dom! Javi, Sub!Javi, Sub!Reader, Wrathful!Javi. In the vein of Narcos being a bilingual show, and Javier Peña being fluent, I felt it was apropos to include Spanglish and Spanish throughout.
When you next wake, you can tell it’s around the time that lavender haze of twilight starts to pale into early dawn. You lie there for a bit and just enjoy the tranquility, still enveloped by the warmth of being in the small bed together while the fresh air of early morning filters in through the windows. His scent – masculine yet softened by fragrant soap – chastens the small tremor of anxiety that bubbled up as your mind recalled everything that had happened the day before. You want to curl into him and forget it, but know you can’t get caught in bed together lest you want to get a scolding from your grandmother, so you decide you have to part with the solace of being snuggled up with him.
*screams* they are finally communicating like the adult idiots they are!!!!!! You always have to leave us worried at the end though
I know! I’m sorry not sorry but the foreboding parting line is a staple of Heat at this point. I blame it on Narcos being a series about a foreboding world!
We’ve come far with these two enamored fools. Had these things happened early on, it would’ve been SUCH a different result for them because they weren’t as emotionally far along as they’ve come.
But even with the ominous end, next chapter is a good one, I swear!
