just like the moon

Javier could hardly wait to see you again since the kiss. He’s been antsy – his daughter even pointed it out. Caffeine has been his holy grail because of it. 

Thoughts of you haunt him at night, leaving him tossing and turning until sunlight peeks in through the curtains. Then he can’t go back to sleep because it’s his week with your daughter. 

He goes through the motions of getting her ready for school; watching her brush her teeth, helping her pick out an outfit, taming her unruly curls, making her breakfast, packing her lunch. After dropping her off, he drives to his father’s ranch to work. 

Since resigning from the DEA, helping out on the ranch has been his only source of income. Although it pays decently, he still feels like the itch for action isn’t being scratched. The adrenaline from his old job is something he longs for every day, but he’s also very aware that it’s the main reason why the two of you drifted apart.

He’d come back to the apartment drained from his day at work. One thing leads to another, and the two of you are arguing for the millionth time that week. He’d push, yelling at you, only for you to push back harder.

He loved the fire you had – he did. But when it came to arguments, you never backed down when it was obvious that he was tired. 

His footsteps would carry him to the bedroom, you tailing on his heels, voice getting louder and louder now that his back is towards you.

During times like these, he regretted getting married to you fresh out of college. The two of you were still babies and didn’t know your position in the world yet. You didn’t hesitate when he asked you to go to Colombia with him, telling him that you’d follow him wherever he wanted you to. He appreciated it at the time, but over time realized that you resented him for uprooting your life before it even got started. 

You never spoke those words outloud, but he knew. It was written all over your face.

Then you got pregnant with your baby girl, keeping it from him for weeks until it wasn’t easy to hide anymore. 

His career was at its peak, the scent trail on Escobar closer than it’s ever been. He wasn’t home, wasn’t present. When he was, the stench of alcohol on his clothes made you gag in your mouth. 

The news hit him like a punch in the gut, his drunken mind not completely processing the pregnancy test you were showing him. His red-rimmed eyes darted back and forth between the word ‘PREGNANT’ and your stomach. 

It wasn’t until your palm splayed against the fabric of your shirt that he breathed, realizing what you were telling him.

He blinked, meeting your teary eyes.

“I’m pregnant, Jav.”

He did what he always did: ran.

According to Steve, he got so wasted that night that he blacked out. Javier obviously doesn’t remember that, but either way, he’s not proud of how he acted.

Now, he stares out at the Rio Grande, watching the same kind of people he used to catch for a living smuggle drugs into the country. Not only did he make a promise to himself that he wouldn’t go back to that life, he made a promise to you and his daughter.

The greenland expands in front of him, water rippling as the men move out in their small boats. 

They’re right fucking there, Javier thinks to himself.

His younger self would’ve already had them cuffed, faced down in the dirt. But he’s not that ambitious 30-something year old anymore. He’s 41, has a child to look after, a house to maintain, family to spend time with, and perhaps a relationship to mend with you.

How fast the two of you went from strangers, to lovers, to enemies gives him whiplash whenever he thinks about everything that went down. You’ve been divorced for a year now, but you haven’t really been a couple for a lot longer than that.

Guess you could blame his job for that.

The old thoughts of his job is something he allows but that’s all they are – visitors rather than something permanent.

“Javier!” his cousin, Ricardo, calls out to him, pulling him from his thoughts.

He turns around, walking up the small hill. “What?”

“A few of the cows got out. We need help herding them.” Ric announces, watching his cousin with narrowed eyes against the harsh Texas sun.

Javier nods, pulling off his work gloves to pocket them.

“You okay?” Ric asks, looking over Javier’s shoulder and spotting what he was staring at. “You know, it’s okay to go back, right?”

He shakes his head faintly at his cousin, clapping the man on the shoulder as he passes him. “C’mon.”

The two of them walk in silence, work boots crunching against the soil as they make their way towards the barn. Chucho owned the biggest plot of land in Laredo, making it difficult to herd the animals once they got out – which was extremely rare.

He can see his other family and ranch hands trying their hardest to get the cows back, only to be met with moos instead of movement. The sight causes a small chuckle to escape his lips despite himself.

You stand in the kitchen of your apartment, hands gripping the edge of the counter. The sink drips every now and then, a reminder that you’ve been meaning to call someone to come fix it, but haven’t because you’ve been so busy and caught up with legal things.

The divorce took a toll on you. Not only did it have to make your child suffer, it had to take your dignity as well. You can hardly remember the last time you felt like yourself, and that’s the last thing you ever wanted.

Dishes that you’ve just washed sit in the right side of the sink, waiting to be rinsed and placed in the dish drain. But you’re too busy reminiscing. 

Liquid courage has been your best friend lately, though it also means that buried feelings tend to come up to make you feel something. You and Javier used to be a picture perfect couple; the one your friends would admire and wish they had for themselves.

It’s a shame that the two of you ended up the way that you did, because you loved how the two of you were in high school and college. You thought the two of you could conquer the world together, get married, have a big family, and live happily ever after.

Life had other plans apparently.

The sexual chemistry between the two of you never left, but it felt more like a fling rather than a marriage. He was always too tired to do anything, and when he did have energy, you felt like the weekend lover you knew he didn’t have. Like you were just something for him to take his frustration out on from work.

You missed having him around so much that you never said anything about how you felt. Because of that, the two of you became strangers living under the same roof.

Now you’re strangers raising a kid together. You’re sure he’s grown as a person, and so have you, even if you don’t necessarily believe it. 

Besides your daughter, therapy has been a big part of your life for the last six years. It’s helped you at least try to come to terms with what happened. Sometimes, people just fall out of love. There’s no way to know or tell. But now Javier wants to rekindle things, and you’re scared of all your progress being reversed if you let him back in again.

After finishing up the dishes, you grab a pint of ice cream from the freezer and plop down on the couch. A commercial fills the TV screen when you turn it on, lighting up the living room in blues and white. You keep the volume low, not really wanting to watch TV but needing something on in the background to distract yourself. 

This has been your night routine when you don’t have your daughter: eating your sorrows when you don’t feel like drinking anymore. 

After you got pregnant, you stopped caring about your body image, which is why you always thought that was one of the reasons why you and Javier drifted apart. The other night, he convinced you that wasn’t an issue though. 

That made you feel a little better.

A part of you will probably always desire affirmations from Javier in whatever form you can get them in.

Is that horrible and toxic?

Perhaps.

But he does the same thing, so does it really matter?

It’s not like the two of you are dating other people.

The sharp shrill of your phone pulls you out of your thoughts, nearly sending you out of your skin for a moment before you pick it up from the coffee table. You hold it between your ear and shoulder, stabbing at your ice cream with a spoon. “Hello?”

“Hi, mama,” your daughter beams on the other end of the line. “I just brushed my teeth.”

At that, you look up at the clock on the wall, realizing that it’s already well past 8PM. “It’s your bedtime already?” you ask, propping your legs up on the coffee table.

“Yeah,” she murmurs, shuffling on the other end, “Daddy says that Tío Luis’ wedding is this weekend. Are we going?”

You bite the inside of your cheek. If you go to the wedding, that means you would have to see Javier and Chucho. But you also don’t want to deprive your little girl of spending time with her family. This isn’t about you – it’s never been about you – it’s always about her and what she wants.

“Yeah,” you start, leaning your head back against the couch, “I’m sure your cousins, tíos, and tías would love to see you.”

“They’d love to see you too, mama,” she states firmly, probably nodding her head.

A faint smile pulls at your lips at her comment, warmth blooming in your chest from your daughter’s reassurance. “Well, that makes me feel a whole lot better, mi amor.”

She giggles, “I know. I’m always right, aren’t I?”

You laugh with her, the conversation continuing about her day at school before she lets out a loud yawn. 

“You don’t have to stay on the phone with me, baby,” you gently say, sitting up to place your now finished ice cream down.

“I’m okay!” she exclaims, clearly not wanting to hang up just yet. “I just miss you.”

Your heart nearly shatters at that. “It’s only been a few days,” you murmur.

She exhales slowly, “I know, but that’s not what I mean. I miss you and dad… together.”

Oh.

Oh.

You take a slow, deep breath, blinking away the sudden tears brimming your eyes. It was obvious how strongly she felt about this entire situation, but you never thought she would just flat out tell you.

“Y’know,” you start, wiping away an unshed tear, “you’re too emotionally intelligent for your age, mi vida.”

“I know,” she sighs, “but I had to be, in order to survive this.”

You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Your daughter has rendered you speechless at this point. 

“Sorry, mama,” she mumbles, prompting you to shake your head and stand up.

“No, it’s okay,” you state, rubbing your thumb over your bottom lip – a nervous habit you picked up from Javier way back when. “I’ll speak to him at the wedding, okay?”

Anything to get her to stop talking about it, right?

“Yay!” she beams, pulling a small huff from you. “I think Daddy will be excited to see you. He hasn’t been sleeping much.”

Worry churns in your gut at that, but you focus on her first comment. “You aren’t excited to see me too?” you tease.

She giggles, “Of course I am, mama.” Your daughter goes quiet for a moment, probably chewing on her bottom lip before she speaks up again, “I hope you guys figure things out. I miss how things used to be.”

Your breath catches momentarily, fingers fidgeting with the ends of a throw pillow when you sit back down. This isn’t a conversation you want to have at all, but especially not over the phone. It’ll be discussed when the time is right, and right now, that’s not it.

She truly doesn’t know the worst of what went down between you and Javier. She only saw and knew what the two of you wanted her to.

“Bedtime, mi amor,” you whisper. “I love you.”

You can hear the pout in her voice when she responds, “I love you, too, mama. Goodnight.”

“Sweet dreams.”

With that, you hang up the phone, tossing it to the other side of the couch and running a hand down your face.

How are you supposed to face Javier this weekend?

Your love for him has never faded – probably never will. It’s settled deep into your skin, a reminder of the bad decision that you’d make again in a heartbeat.

Javier pulls every button of his red flannel through their designated loops, leaving the top one undone. He’s more nervous than he’d like to admit about seeing you again, leaving his fingers trembling, resulting in it being a little difficult to button up his shirt.

He hasn’t felt like a lovestruck teenager since your wedding. Having it in Laredo, where both of you grew up, made it a lot more intimate and perfect. Not as perfect as how you looked that day but pretty damn close.

It wasn’t anything grand. Fairy lights on his father’s ranch, a wooden dance floor, his drunk cousins promising to protect you as one of their own. 

That was his favorite thing: his cousins always taking care of you when he wasn’t around.

He remembers how scared you were when he was training at the academy. Worried about him getting hurt when you called at the end of the day.

Not getting hurt was always his promise to you. But in the end, he ended up hurting his marriage with you more.

Now he has the opportunity to fix it, and he’s determined not to fuck it up again.

Your therapy sessions have been a pretty big deal to you since then – you’ve always been open about it, not too scared to show vulnerability. And he doesn’t want to reverse any of your progress. 

Besides the few spats the two of you have every now and then, you really have become the best person that he knows. You have been since he met you and it makes him want to do better as well. He knows not to push you, especially when you’re stripping yourself bare in front of him to explain how you’re feeling that day.

Don’t fuck it up, he repeats over and over again in his head, finishing up getting ready before he heads to his daughter’s bedroom.

He knocks three times before he slowly opens the door, peeking his head in. “You just about done in here?” he asks, placing his hands on his hips.

Her face lights up at her father, twirling in her red dress that matches Javier’s shirt. “Ready!”

Javier chuckles fondly, walking deeper into the room when she sits on the edge of her bed. He helps her put on her black boots after she puts on her socks. Her gaze on him is heavy, but he doesn’t say anything until she does.

“Are you nervous to see mama?” she inquires, rocking back and forth in her place.

He worries his bottom lip between his teeth, patting her knee once he’s finished putting her shoes on. “Is it obvious?”

“You have that crease,” she points at his forehead, “between your brows.”

Javier relaxes his face at that, realizing that she’s right. “Then I guess I am, mi vida,” he murmurs, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

She smiles softly, the gap from her missing tooth showing. “That’s okay, daddy. I get nervous sometimes, too.”

He shakes his head slowly, awe spreading across his face as he stares down at his daughter. “You’re too smart for your age,” he gently pinches her chin, earning a giggle from her.

She leans into her dad’s side, wrapping her small arms around him. “I get if from both you and mama,” she looks up at him with her big brown eyes, “You, for your ability to figure out the toughest problems–”

“The math you’re learning isn’t that hard,” he scrunches his nose, shaking his head.

“It’s the ones with multiple numbers to subtract that get me!” she claims, holding up a finger before she continues. “And mama, for her ability to… overcome?” she looks towards Javier, a question written across her face on if she used the right word.

Javier nods slowly.

“Her ability to overcome her feelings,” she states triumphantly.

A smile pulls at his lips, “Yeah, your mom is pretty smart, isn’t she?” he murmurs.

His daughter nods, leaning her head against his side. Javier cards his fingers through her curls, pressing his lips to the top of her head. They’re silent for a moment, breathing in sync as they bask in the warmth of each other.

Javier never thought he would be a good father, but she just makes it so goddamn easy. She lights up every room that she walks into and steals everybody's hearts. She’s… a mini you, so to speak.

After a while, they leave to head to the wedding. Luis and his people rented out the barn at Tacubaya Ranch for the ceremony and reception. It’s a bit out of the way but it’s worth it for the family.

The place is beautifully decorated: multiple round tables with white cloth that can sit at least 8 people per table, warm fairy lights to set the mood, dangling diamonds in the shape of chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, a dance floor towards the front, and the various food dishes surrounding it on three sides.

Outside, rows of wooden seats frame the long aisle; white rose petals in the grass, a big white arch that overlooks the view of the greenery. 

Javier sits near the front with his daughter and father, waiting for the bride to come down the aisle. He can tell that his cousin is fidgety – the man constantly adjusts his tie and he’s sweating bullets. All with a grin on his face, though.

Despite himself, Javier looks around for you. His arm is slung over the back of his daughter’s chair, craning his neck back every now and then to see if he can spot you. Family come over, greeting the three of them, but never you – the one he truly wants to see.

He leans down to murmur to his daughter, “What’d you and your mom talk about on the phone?”

Her brown eyes snap towards him. “I never tell,” she pretends to zip her lips, tossing the imaginary key.

Javier chuckles, shaking his head. “Did she say she was coming?”

She nods, beginning to look around as well. A small frown forms on her face as she realizes you’re not here yet. The same furrow Javier has between his brows forms between hers. “She promised,” she pouts, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back in her chair.

He watches his daughter, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth and brushing back her curls. It’s one thing for you not to show up for him, but it’s a whole other thing for you not to show up for your kid.

So where the hell are you?

Your eyes follow Isabella’s form walking back and forth across the room. She’s been pacing for the last 10 minutes according to her mother. The older woman dragged you upstairs the second you arrived, hoping you could calm her down.

“You’re gonna burn a hole through the floor,” you state, walking into the room and closing the door.

Isabella stops dead in her tracks, a loud exhale of relief escaping her when she sees you. “You came,” she jogs over to you, pulling you into a tight hug.

You wrap your arms around her middle, “I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Bella.”

She squeezes you once before letting go to look at you. “It’s been too long.”

Unfortunately, she isn’t wrong.

After the divorce, you distanced yourself from Javier’s family. It felt like the right thing to do since legally they aren’t your family anymore. They took you in as their own, and that’s how you decided to repay them apparently.

You’re not proud of it – they had nothing to do with you and Javier’s relationship, but you know how they are and how they would’ve pushed for the two of you to get back together. One of his aunts even went as far as telling you that you could get the divorce reversed within the first 30 days and it would be like it never happened.

But it did.

The divorce isn’t something you’re ashamed of – you don’t want to hide it. Hiding it means that you pretend like it wasn’t a major part of your life. All the heartache and tears that were shed mean nothing if you ignore it, right?

That’s not something you’ll ever do.

You and Isabella talk for a while. She’s stopped her pacing and is sitting by the window now, overlooking all the people that showed up.

“How did you do it?” she asks, looking over at you from her spot, “Marry Javier.”

For a long moment, you don’t respond, thinking of the right words to say. On the spot, you can’t think of any. Marrying Javier was probably the easiest thing you’ve done in your life, and you don’t regret it as much as people may think.

The town has their own story of how the divorce went down, but only you and Javier know the truth. There’s no bad blood, you don’t think that he isn’t fit to be a father like someone mentioned to you; that’s the furthest thing from the truth. You couldn’t ask for a better father for your daughter, and you’re forever grateful that the two of you are civil enough to raise her together. Even if you’re separate.

“It was easy,” you finally answer, “I thought long and hard about whether he was the person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with…” you trail off, memories of that day flooding your mind.

You were so nervous that you nearly threw up. Your parents were as big of a mess as you were: that was the first time you ever saw your father cry. He barely managed to pull it together to walk you down the aisle. 

Isabella notices the look on your face, straightening up to join you on the couch. She adjusts her dress so she’s not getting it dirty, “So why’d you guys separate?”

That pulls you out of your thoughts, meeting her gaze momentarily. “It just happened,” you shrug, not really wanting to talk about it, “We became different people, I guess.”

Honestly, that’s the best way you can put it without going into detail. Yes, his job played a major role in your divorce. Yes, the pregnancy did, too. But if both of you had put in the effort, you probably would’ve been fine eventually.

To you, arguing with him was easier than admitting your insecurities. No one wants to deal with that, let alone admit it to someone. 

“Do you still love him?” she probes, tilting her head to the side.

“I’ll always love him, Bella,” you answer easily, “He gave me my daughter.”

“But are you still in love with him?”

You take a quiet deep breath at the question, averting her gaze. If you admit it, that opens a fresh floodgate of emotions that you don’t need right now. If you deny it, not only are you lying to her, but you’re lying to yourself as well.

“If it’s meant to be, then it’ll be,” you state, shrugging.

Eventually, the two of you have to go down; you have to find a seat and Isabella has to walk down the aisle. 

You hold your dress so you’re not stepping on the hem of it and getting it dirty. Clacking from your heels sound through the barn as you make your way outside to where everyone is gathered. 

A few heads turn towards you, followed by low murmurs. The gossipping isn’t something that you’ve missed at all.

Instinctively, you look around for your daughter. You have no intention of sitting near Javier, but you still want to know where she is. You spot her towards the front between him and his dad, and you relax your shoulders, taking a seat closest to the aisle in the back.

You cross one leg over the other, resting your hands in your lap. The Texas heat licks at your exposed shoulders, the sun blocked by the patio cover overhead. Thankfully, there are some outdoor fans that make the heat a little more bearable.

You watch your kid swing her legs, her brown hair fanning over her shoulders. She looks over her shoulder, scanning the people before she spots you in the back. Her face lights up and she waves excitedly, beckoning you to come over. The action catches Javier’s attention, his gaze traveling back to you. He doesn’t gesture or mouth anything, but his eyes do soften.

Briefly, it reminds you of how he used to look at you and it tugs at your heart, an unwanted lump forming in your throat.

Without really thinking, you get up slowly, your feet carrying you over to where they’re sitting. There’s an empty seat on Javier’s right side and you swallow your pride to sit down next to him. You cross your legs again, still keeping a respectable distance from him.

The two of you meet each other’s eyes, giving one another a small nod of acknowledgement before you face forward again. Though, Javier doesn’t look away. His eyes burn into your temple, making you wonder what he’s thinking.

His expression is completely unreadable, which is odd to you because once upon a time, you were able to read him like a book.

During the ceremony, tears are shed, whistles are made, family is united. All while you and Javier repeatedly steal glances at each other. You feel like teenagers all over again: too afraid to approach one another because you were scared of rejection.

When everyone stands to head inside, you linger back, needing a moment to breathe. Sitting next to him for what felt like an eternity messed with your mind. His scent clings stubbornly to your memory, cedar with a hint of leather. It sparks up memories that you aren’t sure you want to face yet.

Javier sits at a table inside with his father. The older man is eating the food that is being served while Javier chews on his nicotine gum. His daughter is on the dance floor with her cousins, a big smile on her face. Every now and then, he looks around for you again, unsure of where you went after the ceremony.

The reception is always Javier’s favorite part at a wedding. It was his favorite at yours too. Family get drunk, it’s an excuse to eat desserts that everyone knows isn’t good for them, laughs are loud and genuine, and memories are made. He remembers how chaotic his cousins were during his wedding reception, but they all had pure intentions.

Finally, he spots you talking to a man he doesn’t know towards the very front of the barn. He sits up a little straighter, chewing on his gun a little harder than necessary at the sight. You seem like you know the guy, putting a hand on his bicep when you laugh at a joke. And it’s not just some fake laugh that you give strangers that you no longer want to talk to, it’s your real laugh. One he hasn’t heard in a long time.

He’s almost about to get up before Chucho speaks up, “No lo hagas. (Don’t do it.)”

Javier glances over at his father, shrinking back at his words. “No voy a hacer nada, papá. (I’m not going to do anything, dad.)”

The older man gives him a knowing look, putting down his fork. “You’ve been the same about her since high school,” he claims, watching Javier take a swig of his beer and look back in your direction. “She’ll talk to you when she’s ready, mijo.”

He knows his dad is right, but that doesn’t stop him from getting the urge to walk over to you anyway. He’s also well aware of the fact that he has no claim over you anymore; you’re a grown woman and you can talk to other people. But it’s still not a sight that he likes to see.

To him, it almost feels like a betrayal. The two of you were together for so long that it feels weird not having you within arms reach. His hand would always be on your thigh, or your shoulder, or your lower back. In his own way, it was him silently telling people that you were already taken – if the rock on your left hand wasn’t already obvious enough.

Javier can’t even remember the last time he actually flirted with a woman. It’s only ever been you and he’s not sure if he wants to try with someone else. Not when you agreed to try with him again. He’s been loyal to you since you caught his eye and it will most likely stay that way, even if you don’t end up back together.

Eventually, you walk away from the guy and sit at an empty table. Javier sees this as an opportunity to approach you, regardless of what his old man said. He takes another swig of liquid courage before he makes his way through the crowd to you.

You look up with a faint smile when he comes up to the table, sitting down with one chair in between the two of you. Still giving you space, but leaving the option to move next to him available. 

“Why didn’t you come sit with me and Chucho?” he asks, draping his arm over the back of the chair.

You shrug faintly, taking a sip from your water bottle. Briefly, his eyes drop to the bottle, taking a mental note of the lack of alcohol. “It didn’t feel right to,” you claim.

Javier furrows his brows at that, keeping his gum in the back of his mouth. It’s a subconscious move, he thinks, knowing that you never appreciated when people smacked their gum during conversations. “You’re always welcome to, cariño,” the nickname slips out but he doesn’t take it back, and you don’t comment on it. “We’re still family.”

“Legally, we’re not,” you jab lightly.

“Regardless of that,” he starts, “you’re still family. You shouldn’t feel weird about hanging around us.”

It’s only then that he realizes how much you’re looking around, probably feeling out of place now that you aren’t binded to his family legally. But legality doesn’t choose that, you do. Especially since you’re the mother of his daughter. If anything, that makes you family by blood.

“It’s just…” you trail off, trying to find the right word, “A little strange that I’m here. People are looking at me like I broke your heart or something.” When you laugh it off, it tugs at his heart.

He shakes his head, “Well, they’re wrong and you shouldn’t worry about them.”

“I know,” you whisper, crossing your arms over your chest – a defense mechanism you’ve had since he’s known you. Like you’re shielding yourself from the worst.

Surprisingly, the conversation is still easy with you; no one’s yelling for once and it makes Javier feel at ease. The barn seems like it narrows down to just the two of you. You share laughs, reminisce about old family drama and the days before everything fell apart.

Just easy.

It was always easy with you, and he hates that he ruined things with his job. He still feels incredibly guilty about making you believe that he no longer loved you or blamed you for anything when that isn’t the case at all. 

He’ll always love you, even if the two of you aren’t necessarily together.

“So,” he draws out, deciding to just ask, “who’s the guy?”

You raise your brows slightly at the question, noticing the jealousy he’s trying (and failing) to hide. “Who?”

“The guy you were talking to before you sat down,” he reminds you, knowing that you’re playing dumb to mess with him.

You shrug, leaning back in your seat and sipping on your water. “Oh, that guy.”

“Yeah,” he nods, “that guy.”

A faint but audible chuckle leaves you, shaking your head slowly. “I thought we agreed not to be possessive of each other. I mean, we’re not together anymore,” you murmur.

He weighs his head from side to side, “Yeah, but that was before you said you would give me another chance.”

“Did I say that?” you inquire, feigning innocence. “I don’t think those were my exact words.”

Javier chuckles fondly, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth and drawing your eyes there for a split second. “You didn’t flat out reject me either,” he claims.

“True,” you tip your bottle towards him.

He cocks an eyebrow, tilting his head to the side. “We could’ve worked out, baby – we should’ve been able to fix things before it got to that point.”

You take a deep breath at his words, fingers fidgeting with the edge of the plastic table cover. You barely process it when your nail pokes a hole through it. “We were pretty young when we got married, Javi,” you shake your head slowly, “Not all couples that start like that actually last.”

“We were supposed to be the one that did,” he starts, hearing you scoff and avoid his gaze. “I am sorry for how I acted. I know how hard it was for you to be in Colombia with me, and I shouldn’t have put my job over our relationship.”

“All you do is apologize,” you express, “but you never actually change.”

“It’ll be different this time,” Javier claims.

“How?” you shrug, “You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do,” he states firmly, “Because I’m going to put in the work. Whatever it takes to get you back.” He pauses, studying your exasperated expression. He knows it’ll take more than just words to fix this, so he suggests something. “I’ll go to therapy with you.”

You furrow your brows at that, confusion spreading across your face. “You know, couples tend to go to therapy before they seperate… not after.”

Despite himself, his lips curve into a small smirk. “I know, but I’ll do it; however many sessions of a stranger telling me my problems and how to fix them. I will do that for you.” He trails off, looking over at your daughter on the dance floor and then back to you, “For us.”

Javier has in fact stuck to his word. Every week, without fail, for the last two months, he’s shown up to therapy with you. Your daughter is ecstatic that both of you are putting in the effort to be her parents again… together.

Now that summer break has started for her, she hangs out with her grandpa while the two of you go to therapy. She’s beginning to push for family dinners every Sunday, but you’d rather take it one step at a time.

To say you’re proud of and grateful for Javier is an understatement. Your mother used to always tell you that he’d never clean up his act.

You’re glad that she was wrong.

This Friday, you and Javier even took the same car. It’s your week to have your daughter, so he thought it would be easier and save gas if you took one car. Plus, he had to drop her off at his dad’s and then head back into town to go to your therapist’s office.

Now, both of you are driving back to the ranch to pick her up. Today, it’s been gloomy all day, but that doesn’t dim your daughter’s smile. She nearly knocks the two of you over when she runs up and hugs you.

“Hola, dulce niña (Hi, sweet girl),” Javier greets her, stroking her hair back.

She looks up at the both of you with a big grin on her face. “¡El abuelo y yo hicimos galletas! (Grandpa and I made cookies!)” she exclaims.

“¿Lo sabías? (Did you now?)” you ask, looking over at Chucho when he gets up from his recliner. You haven’t had much interaction with the man since Javier started going to therapy with you, and you can imagine that he has some words he’d like to share with you.

“¿Puedo hablar contigo? (Can I talk to you?)” Chucho says your name in a soft tone, no sense of audible scolding.

You share a glance with Javier before you nod at his father, peeling away from your daughter and following him into the kitchen.

He sets his cowboy hat down on the island, rubbing his eyes behind his glasses. You stand with your hands intertwined in front of you, like you did when you were younger and wanted to ask your parents something you knew they were going to say no to.

“You know he loves you, right?” he asks quietly.

The question catches you off guard for a second, not expecting that to be the first thing he says. “I do,” you murmur, fiddling your thumbs as your nerves build.

“So you can understand my concern when I say that I need you to be careful with his heart,” he expresses sincerely, no room for anything that isn’t serious.

You swallow visibly, your eyes not fraying from the older man. 

“I know you’re adults and you can figure out your feelings on your own–”

You exhale, nearly chuckling. “There’s nothing going on between the two of us,” you claim, shaking your head.

Chucho raises an eyebrow, nodding once, “Sure there isn’t.”

You open your mouth to speak again but your daughter comes running into the kitchen, Javier trailing behind her. 

“I’m sorry, I tried to catch her before she got in here,” he apologizes, picking her up and mumbling something in Spanish to her.

You know he’s lying but you don’t say anything. You’re still stunned about what Chucho just told you.

“Um,” you start, clearing your throat and looking back over at the man who was your father-in-law at some point. He’s still giving you that same knowing look, making your mind frazzled. “We should go before it starts storming. Don’t want to get caught in the middle of nowhere with no service, now do we?”

Before Javier can answer, you’re already heading out to the car, leaving him a little confused. He looks back at his father, adjusting his daughter at his side. “What’d you say to her, papá?”

The older man shrugs, “Nothing she didn’t already know. I just gave her a little push.”

On the drive back to your apartment, you stare out the window the entire time. By this time, the sky looks like it’s just about ready to open up. Every now and then, you glance in the rearview mirror, checking on your daughter. She’s not the biggest fan of storms, and her stuffed bunny is clutched to her chest tightly for comfort.

“Hey,” Javier gets your attention, placing a hand on your thigh and sending heat straight up your spine. 

Now that Chucho’s said something, you realize he’s right. It’s not like you ever stopped loving Javier, you just didn’t feel that connection anymore. But he’s been so patient and good to you for the last 8 weeks, that maybe, you are falling for him… again.

Is it even possible to fall for the same person twice?

If it is, that’s what’s happening to you right now.

“What’d my old man say to you?” he asks, glancing over at you when he stops at a red light. 

You give him the best smile you can muster at the moment, shaking your head slowly. “Just to be careful,” you whisper, softening your expression the longer you look at him.

When he turns his head to continue driving, you admire his side profile in the dim lighting. He’s always been perfect – he was your perfect guy. But even if you do get back together, who’s to say that it’ll be the same level of extreme love again. The kind that pressed in on all sides and kept you warm, safe, and comfortable. 

Honestly, you’re terrified to give your heart to somebody again. Even if it’s the same person that had it to begin with. Colombia made you into two different people that ended up growing apart and resenting each other for major things. 

Neither of you are getting any younger, and it feels like it’s too late to start over with someone else. And you have a child to consider.

“Be careful with what?” he probes gently, putting his hand back on the steering wheel.

The loss of warmth hits you like a punch in the gut, “With our hearts.”

He glances at you again and before you know it, he’s parked in front of your building.

“Can we go inside before it starts pouring?” your daughter asks, pulling you out of your daze.

Both you and Javier chuckle, getting out of the car finally. Javier helps her out, and you lean your head back and close your eyes, taking a much needed deep breath. Being in the car was starting to overwhelm you… well, your thoughts were, at least. Along with Javier’s cologne.

You don’t know how long you stand like that, but your face twitches when you feel the first raindrop. You open your eyes, being met with the dark grey sky and a dozen more drops hitting your face. A clap of thunder rumbles in the distance, telling you that the storm has finally rolled in.

“C’mon,” Javier murmurs, placing a hand on your lower back to lead you inside.

Once you unlock the door, you hear the heavy rainfall begin.

The storm rages on for hours, cutting the power and forcing all of you to huddle up in the living room. Javier is on one side of the couch, and you’re on the other, fidgeting with your earring as you stare out the window. The rain pounds on the glass, muffling the sounds outside completely. 

You look over, taking in the way your daughter is tucked into her dad’s side. She fell asleep at least 20 minutes ago, her body limp against Javier’s. The sight brings a small smile to your face. If you’re being honest, you miss these quiet moments within the three of you. Just basking in each other’s company rather than filling the silence with words. 

Javier catches your eyes, his lips curving to match yours. He shifts – careful of his sleeping child – and places his hand in between the two of you, his palm up. An offer to hold his hand.

You hesitate to overthink it. If you take his hand, you’re letting him back into your life intimately. If you don’t take it, he’ll think it’s a cold shoulder and possibly retreat on everything he’s been doing lately.

Fuck, who are you kidding? Javier’s never going to give up on you, whether you want him to or not. You’re the only person he’s ever loved and it’ll stay that way forever, you think.

Tentatively, you place your hand in his, intertwining your fingers. The warmth of his palm shoots straight through you, reminding you of the good days. 

He rubs his thumb along your knuckles, a contemplative look on his face. You wait, wanting him to ask on his own time instead of pushing him. That’s something major that your therapist taught you when it came to you and Javier’s tempers. Both of you are too stubborn to ever admit that you’re wrong, so you argue. Nine times out of ten, those arguments ended with sleeping in different rooms.

You were such different people back then. It feels like a lifetime ago when you were dating through high school and college. Both of you had high ambitions and thought you could get through anything.

But then his job got in the way.

You don’t think that could happen again, but you also know Javier. He can’t sit still for five minutes and constantly needs to be doing something. He’d deny it but you know he misses the DEA. Maybe not the bureaucratic part of the job, but definitely the thrill of the chase.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks, his voice soft and quiet.

“Honestly?” you meet his eyes again, your voice matching his tone, “Your job… and how we were before it got in the way.”

He nods faintly, not taking his eyes off of you. Subconsciously, you shift under his gaze, your skin suddenly feeling hot to the touch.

“Do you think we could ever go back to that?” he whispers, thunder rumbling and rattling the glasses in your cabinet. “Be that in love again?”

“I think we’re on the right track,” you admit quietly, “You’ve been so… supportive and patient, and I really appreciate it, Jav. I know I’m not the easiest to deal with sometimes.”

“Don’t sell yourself short like that, cariño.”

It’s things like that that come out of his mouth.

There are a million reasons you could think of, knowing that the two of you wouldn’t work again. But the heart wants what it wants, right?

By your daughter’s bedtime, the storm is still pounding on the glass and your mind is still warring with you.

The future is a scary thing for everyone. The knowledge that the decisions you make every single day either make or break your life. All you can do is hope that they’re the right choices.

So when you make the choice of leading Javier into the darkness of your room, you can only pray that you’re making the right decision for your relationship and your family.

Lightning strikes, lighting up the room as you light a few candles. Javier stands by the door, hands in his pockets, unsure of what’s happening. Hell, you don’t really know what you’re doing either to be honest.

Emotionally, you’re convinced that he wants you again, but you need some sort of physical tell.

You never thought the two of you could come this far in healing. It feels like a big piece of your soul has found its way back to you. That’s what Javier does to you – he makes you feel whole. Whole as a person, whole as a partner, and most importantly, whole as a mother. It’s time for your family to be complete again.

Tentatively, you take his hand, sitting on the edge of the bed with him. It takes you a moment to find the right words, but once you do, you’re completely open and honest with him. “Do you think we’re doing well?”

“I do,” Javier nods slowly, not daring to break eye contact with you. His thumb rubs soothing circles on the back of your hand, easing your nerves. “You make it easy.”

Heat travels to your cheeks in the candlelit room, tilting your head down to let out an incredulous chuckle. “You can thank my therapist for that.”

“No, that’s all you, querida.”

You meet his soft brown eyes again, knitting your brows together when emotion threatens to spill over. “Do you really mean that?”

Javier doesn’t even hesitate to reassure you, “Of course I do. You’ve grown so much – not only for yourself, but for our daughter, too. She’s incredibly proud of you… and so am I.” He pauses, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth and taking a chance, “I am proud of the woman that I love.”

Faintly, your breath catches in your throat. You haven’t heard him say that in years at this point. It was always easier for the both of you to bury your feelings than talk about them. They held so much weight that it sank your marriage. Neither of you ever stopped loving each other: Javier thought he was protecting you by pushing you away, and in return, you thought he didn’t want you anymore.

But that was never the case.

Javier wants and needs you so bad that it hurts. Pushing you away didn’t protect you, it only made things worse – he’s realized that now and he has to stop doing it.

Cautiously, he closes the distance between the two of you, still giving you the chance to move away if you want. When you don’t, he cups your face, rubbing your cheekbone with the pad of his thumb as he studies your infuriatingly beautiful features. Features he loves and sees in your daughter.

He shakes his head slowly, astonishment in his eyes. “You’re so goddamn gorgeous,” he whispers.

That’s all it takes before you close the distance completely, locking lips with him. His plush lips are warm and familiar to you, something you’ve missed deeply.

“Tell me you love me again,” you murmur against them, carding your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.

“I love you.”

Kiss.

“I love you.”

Kiss.

“I love you.”

Kiss.

He does the same thing over and over, laying you down on the bed like you’re something sacred. The next clap of thunder shakes the entire apartment building, but neither of you notice, too busy drowning in each other after years of separation.

His hands slip under your shirt, palms flat on your skin and relearning your body. Yours nimbly unbutton his flannel, needing as much of him as you can get. Javier matches your fervor, pulling your shirt over your head and shrugging off his, tossing them both onto the floor.

You pause, noticing the chain dangling from his neck. His silver wedding band stares you dead in the face, making you wonder if he ever took it off in the first place. You wrap your hand around it, pulling him down for another kiss. The second your skin makes contact with his, he groans, lips trailing along your jawline.

“Javi.”

He pulls back at the sound of your voice, giving you his full attention even though he’d rather rip your clothes off and reclaim you as his once again.

“Promise me,” you start, looking up at him with your arms wrapped around his neck, “Promise me that this isn’t just a one time thing.”

“I promise,” he nods immediately, swallowing back his desire when he realizes how serious you are. “I will put you and our daughter above everything else because that’s what you deserve.”

You believe him. You have to. In order for this to work again, you have to be honest with each other and believe each other over anything else, right?

“Good,” with that, you pull him back down for a heated kiss, wrapping your legs around his waist.

Clothes are discarded, tossed to the floor without second thought. God, you didn’t know how much you needed this until the bulbous head of his cock breaches your entrance, stretching you sweetly. You both sigh in unison into each other’s mouths, kissing to distract from the sting of the stretch.

When you grip his bicep, Javier pulls back to make sure you’re okay before he fills you to the brim. He doesn’t move, allowing you to adjust to his girth as he mouths at your neck. It feels right – like coming home after a long day. In this case, it’s been years. You can finally come up for air after suffocating in your own feelings for so long.

He draws his hips back slowly, watching your face contort in pleasure, before he sinks back in, repeating the action over and over. The slow pace allows you to feel every heavy inch of him, your velvet walls pulling him in deeper. 

Your fingers grip his hair, heat churning low in your belly. “Jav,” you breathe, “Baby.”

He groans at the term of endearment, snapping his hips harder but still keeping it slow and deep, not wanting to rush this intimate connection after so long without you. “I’m right here, cariño,” he presses his forehead to yours, his hands hiking your thighs higher up his waist, “I’m not goin’ anywhere ever again, you hear me?”

A breathy whimper leaves you in response, your thighs being adjusted making you open up more. You feel Javier everywhere: his forehead against yours, your breaths mingling together, his thumbs caressing the underside of your thighs, his big hands gripping them tightly. All while you’re pliant underneath him, right where you want to be.

The storm still rages on outside, seeming to get more intense the longer the two of you stay tangled. The lightning is a blinding white, followed by loud claps of thunder that mask your sounds.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Javier rasps, kissing the corner of your mouth and picking up the pace. “Squeezin’ me so goddamn tight.”

The sound of wet skin slapping grows louder, your slick arousal seeping out of you, down to your ass. Every time his hips retreat, you clench around the head of his cock, chasing the feeling of him.

He adjusts the angle of your hips, driving into that sweet spot deep inside you, making stars burst behind your eyes. You shut them tight, unashamed of your noises now as you tilt your head back, one hand gripping the pillow under your head for purchase.

“Fuck,” your voice is shaky, the familiar tingle at the base of your spine growing more prominent. “I’m close, baby.”

“I know,” Javier whispers roughly, “Where do you want me–”

“Inside,” you don’t hesitate to answer, “Please.”

He lets out a ragged exhale, his cock twitching violently inside you. “Are you sure?”

You nod desperately, looking up at him with pleading eyes, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I am.”

At your confirmation, he slips an arm under you, holding you in place, his other hand firmly holding your hip. A bead of sweat slides down his back as he increases his speed, keeping his length deep inside you. He grits his teeth, holding off on his own orgasm as you near yours, your walls clamping down around him.

Your nails rake down his back, vision going blurry around the edges. Breathy moans escape between your lips, spurring him on to get you to your climax. When you toss your head back, a strike of lightning rips across the dark canopy that is the sky, booming claps of thunder following, drowning out your loud shared noises as electricity ripples through both of you.

Javier’s warm seed spills into you in thick pulses, your gummy walls fluttering helplessly around his sensitive cock, milking him completely dry. He slumps against you, burying his face in your neck, peppering kisses along your sweat-slick skin.

It feels like it’s been forever once you’ve caught your breath, Javier slipping out of bed and padding to the bathroom to get a wash cloth.

Despite yourself, a smile tugs at your lips, satisfied not only with the sex, but with the fact that the two of you have grown so much. When he said he would go to therapy with him, you didn’t think he would actually commit to it the way that he has. And just because the two of you have made up physically, you know there’s still some wounds that need to be healed over time.

Now, he lies beside you, your head resting on his shoulder. You lift it to pepper a few kisses along his skin, hearing him let out a sigh of content. “We’re gonna be okay,” he whispers, looking over at you.

You don’t know how much you believe him until morning comes, the sun shining through the blinds, no traces of last night’s storm. You smile at the peace, finally feeling whole again.

᯽ tags: @missladym1981 , @kirsteng42 , @mcthsman , @petalsinblood , @rosharanfiction , @cuteanimalmama , @harriedandharassed , @madpanda75 , @shadowqueen2024 , @picketniffler , @kokoluwie , @reedispunk , @milla-frenchy , @missadangel , @gothcsz , @kai-lovey , @sawymredfox , @baronessvonglitter , @hanahleah , @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 , @joelmillerspnk , @peepawmiller

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

first off, javier, my baby boy - pedro's vibe as javi is just sooo *chef's kiss* i love him

penélope cruz as mimi cruz - i was going back and forth between a few people but i think penélope's overall vibe is the best pick for mimi

alberto guerra as jerónimo matías cruz - the father we all hate 😭 alberto is very nice to look at :)

fernanda urrejola as sara valentina cruz - mimi's mother and jeró's late wife that's only ever mentioned in passing

manuel masalva as andrés cruz - mimi's uncle has only been mentioned a few times so far but he is a major part of part 5 🌝 he's crazy.

“We got him,” Javi all but sprints back into his office where you’ve been scouring all the evidence collected so far looking for any other crimes to possibly nab Miguel on.

“Wait…it worked? The minister is the leak?” you sit up from your place on the couch, a jolt of excitement pulsing through you at the news. 

“Sure as death and taxes,” he mumbles as he slips a cigarette from his pack.

“Holy fuckin’ shit,” you breathe out in amazement. 

At first, you were skeptical that anything would provide concrete evidence that the Minister of Colombia was leaking information to the Cali Cartel, but there was no denying it after the fake message Javi had relayed to him conveniently had the men moving to another safe house. 

It’s the first win your team has had in what feels like forever. It almost seemed too easy, considering the course of events over the last few months, but fuck it. 

You’ll take the easy win as you settle back into work. 

Javi had permitted you to come back to work earlier this week—with restrictions of course—and apparently just in time for some action.

Finally

If only you could get him to give you some action at home too.

He’s been handling you with kid gloves since Medellín, taking the doctor’s note about avoiding strenuous activities way too seriously. Plus, with all the added pressure of trying to end this thing once and for all before Crosby kicks your asses to the curb, there hasn’t exactly been much time available for your favorite extracurricular activity anyway. 

Crosby told Javi he had until 5pm today before you’re all off the case for good if there’s no significant progress. He intended to hand it over to the Colombians to handle from there on out, but your team knows if that were to happen everything that’s you’ve gone though so far would mean absolutely fuck all. 

Javi wasn’t about to let that happen after he almost lost you to this. It was his fight to finish and you were going to go down with the ship next to him if it came to it. After returning to the Embassy, he put his head down and started to work tirelessly to not only bring these fucks to justice for their crimes, but to provide you with a sense of justice as well. 

“They’ll be at the other safe house with Miguel soon, so Feistl and Van Ness are getting into position to take him down,” he sits at his desk, unlit cigarette hanging out the side of his mouth while he flips through the file on the desk for the twentieth time this morning. 

“So, what should we do?” you stand, eager to help after sitting around for weeks on concussion protocol. 

“We stay here and we wait. Keep an eye out on the situation here with Crosby. Stall him more if we have to,” he releases a tense sigh and flicks his lighter, bringing it to the tip of the cigarette that dangles from his lips.

“Ugh,” you sigh in disappointment, “god he fucking sucks,” you huff as you plop yourself back down on the couch. You hate how boring shit can be sometimes during a stakeout. Especially when you’re the one stuck running interference on the suits.

Javi chuckles while he scans the documents he now has laid out piece by piece across the polished wood of his desk. As he works quietly, slumped over slightly, you notice how high and tight his broad shoulders are as they strain under his dress shirt.

If all you have to do for now is sit and wait, you intend to find other ways to fill the time.

He shifts to lean over the desk, elbows propped up against it, rubbing his temple with one hand while the other flicks the ash of his cigarette into the amber colored tray next to him.

You know you should keep it together—stay straight-laced—while your team is under such watchful eyes, but your head spins at how the threads of his shirt strain against his upper back and the way his tongue darts out every now and then to lick his lips as he thinks.

You bite down your lip and a barely audible whimper escapes you as you slink your way over to him. All you can think about is him hastily yanking your skirt over your ass and bending you over right there.

God, you really need to get fucked.

“Let me rub your back, baby,” the words drip from your lips like nectar as your hands spread across his shoulders slowly. “Oof, you’re so tense, Javi,” you coo as if tense isn’t just his normal state of being.

He takes a drag of his cigarette then exhales, long and slow, as he melts under your touch, a white swirl of smoke encapsulating the both of you. You grip the tops of his shoulders in your hands and start to knead, your thumbs pressing into the tight spot just below his neck.

He winces, hissing in discomfort before he settles under your deft hands again. The low groan he makes as you work him nearly causes your knees to collapse under you as you envision the same sound leaving his lips as he sinks into you with a single thrust.

“That feel good, Javi?” you say in hushed seduction,  your breath tickling the shell of his ear.

“Yeah, muñeca,” he groans, “guess I didn’t realize,” he closes his eyes and lets his head drop forward. His cigarette has found its place on the rim of the ashtray.

Sensing you’ve lulled him into a spot where he’s more agreeable, you lean forward and let your hands wander over his shoulders to spread down his chest. Another low groan escapes him and arousal slowly starts to pool in your belly, threatening to turn into a full blown inferno.

You know he must be as pent up as you.

You need him to crack.

You shift and lean over his body further, arching your back as you bring your lips to ghost against his neck teasingly, placing a deceptively innocent kiss to his skin. His pulse thrums against your lips and the heat that radiates off of him makes you dizzy with lust.

“Remember when I sucked your dick under your desk?” you tease, your voice low as you run your hands back and forth from his biceps back to his pecs.

“How could I forget?” he rasps, lost under your touch.

“And then you picked me up by my hips to put me on top of it and fucked me with your fingers while I jerked you off?” you trail your lips to the other side of his neck and roll your tongue against it.

“Yeah, I do,” his breath hitches as you squeeze his shoulders again.

You let your fingers linger at the base of his neck as you slink around the chair to stand in front of him. His hands instinctively reach out to grab your hips to pull you into his waiting lap.

Got ‘em.

As you straddle his hips his dark eyes drag over your curves shamelessly, gripping you tighter as you settle in his lap.

A seductive smirk grows on your lips.

“Mmm. Me too,” you lean back, purposefully spreading your legs wider as you pluck the cigarette from its resting place. You take a drag, smoldering eyes never leaving his before blowing a plume of smoke to the ceiling. “Was the first time you made me come, Javi,” you whine as you bite your lip and place the cigarette back in the tray.

“Muñeca…” he tries to warn, but it's clear he’s lost in your game. He squeezes your thighs tighter trying to retain his resolve, dimpling your skin through your skirt as you roll your hips against the growing bulge in his pants. Your body is a live wire after going this long without him inside you, every touch or drag against him amplifying your arousal even more than usual.

You feel like he could flick your clit once and you’d be sent over the edge.

You moan softly from the friction you’re so desperately craving as you dip your head down to leave wet kisses on his neck. When you slowly drag your tongue up to his earlobe and nip it between your teeth he curses under his breath.

“Mierda,” he pants as his hands flex on your hips.

“Mmm,” you hum, pleased with his reaction. “I know you want it, Javi. You can have it,” you whisper tauntingly as you cup his cock through his pants. He hisses and bucks his hips into you, unable to fight it as lust clouds his mind. You roll your hips against him, panting as you grip the back of his chair for more leverage. His office fills with the sounds of the chair quietly creaking as you grind against him and the hushed, needy pants shared between you.

His brows furrow and his mouth parts as he squeezes your ass and pulls you against him harder, torn between letting you continue or stopping you, per the doctor’s orders. You moan louder as the feeling of your slick dampens the thin fabric of your panties.

“Please,” you breathe out as your hands trail down to his belt buckle. You crash your lips against his then allow him to slowly lick into your mouth as his belt clinks open. When he notices the sound, he breaks the kiss and grips your hands in his, stopping you from being one step closer to freeing his now throbbing cock.

“Muñeca,” his voice turns more stern, but the fire behind his eyes tell you a different story “what about—”

“I heard you in the shower the other day, Javi,” you ghost your lips against his, cutting him off, “got me so fucking wet. I had to take care of it all by myself. I miss you,” you pout before nipping his lower lip between your teeth.

“Christ,” a drawn out moan floats from his lips into your kiss.

“Are you thinking about it? Me fucking myself on my fingers knowing its not enough for me?” you punctuate the end of your taunt by gripping his length over his pants. He lets out a strangled groan as you tease your tongue along his top lip.

He throbs in your hand through his pants making you gasp, your eyes wild with the hope that he’s about to snap. You slowly snake your hand to the button and go to slip it through when someone outside drops something on the floor loudly, jolting the both of you back to reality.

“Fuck,” you curse under your breath, knowing you just lost your own game. Javi’s head tilts back against the headrest as he huffs in relief, his hands still glued to your hips.

“You almost fuckin’ got me, diablita,” he pants.

“It’s only a few more days, Javi. C’mon It doesn’t even count anymore,” you whine “you know for someone who has no problem breaking the rules for everything else, you sure aren’t budging on this one.”

“No,” he cups your face with strong hands, “I’m not risking anything when it comes to you again. Ever,” he traces his thumb lovingly back and forth on your cheek, his deep brown eyes soft but laced with their usual intensity.

Your chest tightens as you stare back into his eyes. It nearly makes you double over in his arms knowing that he’s so afraid of losing you that he won’t even consider going against a simple recommendation when it comes to protecting you. 

It makes you want him even more than you already fucking do.

You sigh—a mixture of sexual frustration and wistfulness—as you force yourself to peel from his lap. You lean back against the desk in front of him and cross your ankles, an extra dramatic pout painted on your lips.

He follows, placing a gentle hand on your neck as he looks down at you adoringly. You bite your bottom lip and look up at him through your lashes sulkily.

“You know, you’re making it harder than it has to be. For both of us,” he gives you a signature lopsided smirk, amused by how hard you’re taking it.

“I don’t know,” you lilt teasingly, “I think it likes being hard,” you tease your hand over his pants again, a sly smile on your face.

He groans in faux annoyance as he looks up to the ceiling “look, if I can wait a few more days so can you.”

You hate that he’s right. If Javier Sex-on-Legs Peña can control himself, you suppose you can do the same.

But can and want to are two very different concepts and your willpower is seriously faltering. 

“Ughh, whatever, fine—but just know, this is completely against my will,” you whine, lacing your fingers behind his neck as you pull yourself closer to him.

“You’re so fucking ridiculous,” he chuckles under his breath as he presses his lips to yours. You smile into him when he deepens it and sighs into your mouth.

“Mmm,” you lean back with a kiss-drunk smile plastered on your face. “And you love me, so what does that make you?” You pull his mouth back to yours heatedly while he grips a handful of your ass. Your lips part in a surprised gasp and the previous lightheartedness quickly shifts back into needy lust as he lifts you up onto the desk.

“Fuck,” he mumbles against your lips, “fuck, we’ve gotta stop,” he pants, resting his forehead against yours, his eyes squeezed closed.

“Fine,” you whisper breathlessly, resigning even though your panties are soaked through from your own teasing. “I’ll add this to the list.”

“The List? List of what?” his face twists in amused confusion.

“Of the things I’m gonna make you pay for,” you tease as if he should already know what you’re talking about.

“Should I be scared or turned on?” he rasps against your lips.

You indulge him in one last heated kiss, “just watch your back Peña,” you hop down from the desk with a wink, plucking the forgotten cigarette from the tray to bring to your lips. You take a long inhale and then place it between his lips with a pleased look on your face.

“Boss,” you both jump when Feistl’s voice crackles over the walkie.

“Shit, shit shit,” Javi breathes out. You scramble back over to Javi’s desk, both of you huddled around it as you await the other agent’s intel. 

“Something’s not right, sir. Our CI just went back inside the building. Miguel was supposed to be out already,” Feistl rapid fires over the airwaves.

Javi’s eyes dart around in concentration as he thinks of how to guide them from afar. “Keep close attention to everything—anything you see, hear—if shit goes off the rails, just go ahead and move in. We can’t risk him getting away this time.”

“What about our CI, sir?” He asks with a worried hesitancy.

Javi’s quiet as absorbs the question. The game plan was to get him and his family out safely—something that was all but promised to him for agreeing to help the DEA—but if saving his life meant Miguel Rodriguez wouldn’t face justice, Javi wasn’t willing to bend despite the conflict warring inside him. 

It’s one life versus thousands. 

“We’ll still try to get his family out if that’s how it goes down,” he says shortly, his mouth pulled in a tight line.

“Copy that,” Feistl signs off with an air of disappointment.

You look up at Javi and his face is pinched in quiet turmoil. All of you knew this was a potential outcome, but it doesn’t make it any easier to morally reckon with.

You walk over to the bar cart in the corner and pour you both a glass of whiskey. Your mind wanders as you imagine having to break the news to his wife and daughters. It hits too close to home, though your situation wasn’t nearly as violent. 

 You shake yourself from your thoughts and turn to walk to the desk, placing a glass in front of Javi with a heavy sigh before flopping yourself into a chair across from him.

“He’s got two little girls,” Javi shakes his head as he picks up the glass, the threat of possibly having to face the harsh consequences of his actions linger in his statement. 

“Yeah. I know, unfortunately” you breathe out quietly as you toss back your drink and prop your feet up on the desk.

The air hangs heavy with the weight of what’s at stake.

It’s not just Miguel Rodríguez escaping again. It’s the possibility of more unnecessary bloodshed. A family torn apart or…worse.

This shit is never fair. There never seems to be any rhyme or reason to how things play out despite the amount of planning that goes into it.

Sometimes it seems foolish to think you can go toe-to-toe against fate…

…though lately it seems to have been on your side.

…………..

Time moves in slow motion for the rest of the day after Miguel is finally arrested. It was relayed back to you and Javi that he had been apprehended after the General himself crashed his jeep into Miguel’s getaway car in a hail Mary attempt to prevent him from escaping justice again.

In addition to that triumph, Feistl also confirmed that their CI was rescued at the 11th hour while Van Ness had gone to extract his family. Off to a glorious life in the witness protection program for them, all under the guise of living the American dream. It’s a prison in and of itself really.

The plan got messy—went off the rails completely even—but at least this chapter was finally coming to a fucking close.

Javi doesn’t allow himself to breathe until he’s seen video evidence of Miguel in cuffs, sulking and bleeding in the backseat of a police car. After all of the miserable setbacks he’d been through with this case you can’t blame him.

You barely believed it yourself.

While the big wigs praise and slap Javi on the back, it all seems laced with an air of smug annoyance. He foiled their plans, gave them a big ‘fuck you’ by actually doing his job. Javi returns their handshakes and humbly brushes off their praise with tightly practiced diplomacy.He knows they don’t mean it. Every action they take is calculated to keep up appearances. 

Now that you’re almost out of this, you have half a mind to lay into all of them directly for the way they’ve treated him when all he wanted by coming back was to set things right and succeed in achieving his end goal. 

Or maybe you should just wait until your bags are packed.

Just in case.

Being the boss, Javi is whisked away in and out of conference rooms and meetings for hours for debriefing after debriefing before he is allowed to actually have a moment to absorb it all and what it means for all of your futures.

When he’s finally free again, he meets you back in his office looking flustered.

“Hey, baby how did it go?” you hop up off the couch to greet him with a quick kiss. He brushes by you after accepting it, lost in his thoughts as he collapses into his desk chair. “I take it not well?”

“They act like they’re happy about it all, but I’m not a fucking idiot—don’t know why they seem to think I am,” he shrugs before lighting up a cigarette to soothe his tired nerves. He pinches the bridge of his nose between this thumb and forefinger, his eyes scrunched closed as if he’s fighting off a headache.

You cross the room and lean your hip against the side of his desk, “Why do you think that?” you ask softly.

He pauses for a moment, thinking, while smoke swirls slowly in the space between you. “They think I’m a fuckin’ boy scout,” he scoffs, “never seen a boy scout take down an entire cartel though.” 

“They really thought you were just gonna come down here and play make believe while they moved the chess pieces? It’s like they don’t even know you,” you laugh, a small attempt to lighten his mood.

“Shit, most of them don’t. Just all the rumors–been going on since I first got to Quantico. Shrugging off the digs about visiting whorehouses was a lot more manageable than the ones they came up with the deeper into this shit I got. Don’t even know why I still give a shit,” he gives a dejected shake his head as he exhales a cloud of smoke to the side. 

Despite the way he lets their jabs and insults roll off his back in their faces, they still leave microscopic cuts to his psyche. Compounded by years of it, you have no doubt it hasn’t grown into a much deeper wound that affects his self-worth like all the other shit. He’s just never had the time or will to deal with it. 

Reading his dreary expression, you kneel on the floor in front of him, a supportive hand coming to rest on his knee as you chase his gaze. You look up at him, your eyes set tenderly as you bring your free hand up to gently brush through his perfectly styled locks. “Javier,” you pause, your hand comes to cup his cheek to make sure he keeps his eyes trained on yours, “once we leave here, nothing they do or say about you will matter anymore. So many people–including myself–owe you so much. You’ve done enough. You’ve given enough.”

A frown pulls on his lips as his eyes scan yours, absorbing the true weight of your words. He has given so much of himself to the cause that he doesn’t even know who he is anymore without it. The impending exit from Colombia turns a page that neither of you let yourselves realize could be turned after being entrenched in this life for so long–not until suddenly you found yourselves at the end of the chapter. 

Indulging in the concept of self-discovery again feels like a monumental task, even for two people who spent years chasing down narcos.

……………………………………………………..

The two of you stand in a dark conference room in front of the bulletin board Javi had put together at the start of all this. Photos of the faces of the entire Cali Cartel stare back at you. They’ve all been marked with a big red ‘X’ except for one. The dark shadows cast across the room fit the mood between you and Javi after he found out a piece of information that made you fucking sick. Javi had come across information that corroborated with a local journalist’s own investigational findings that revealed the US and Colombia were working together to keep the mysterious funding of the president’s campaign under wraps. 

The accusation was that the Cali Cartel made a more than generous donation to his campaign fundraising efforts.

He brought the information with his evidence to present it to Crobsy, thinking that this was a fucking bombshell–and anywhere else it probably would be–but to his dismay, Crosby all but laughed in his face as he unveiled tapes with recordings of the dealings going down. He had known the entire time and had been working with the CIA to keep the information top secret while Javi and your team had been on a wild goose chase the entire time. 

Nothing fucking mattered.

Your life, Javi’s life, the lives of all those lost to the violence over the years–money and power were more important than any of that. 

It was like they couldn’t let him leave without one last slap in the fucking face. One last ‘fuck you’ to the lowly pawns in their game.

“This is such fucking bullshit, Javi! We’ve sacrificed so much—everyone has—being down here and doing the dirty work. The actual work—all while they’ve just sat around shaking hands and keeping this shit alive…and for what? For more people to fucking die?” 

Javi stands with his arms crossed, his eyes cast down to the floor when he’s not blankly staring at the faces he worked so hard to put behind bars. You pace back and forth in front of him with your fists clenched until he reaches an arm out to stop you in your tracks, silently. You glance over to him with rage behind your eyes, angry tears ready to spill over at any moment. All he does is give you a small shake of his head, a quiet sign to tell you to stop working yourself up, that it’s fucking pointless.

He’s completely stoic compared to you, but you figure that’s okay. He deserves to not fucking feel anything about this anymore. You’ll carry the rage for the both of you until you finally burnout, but Javi—he’s finally hit the wall. He’s tired and dejected and you fucking hate them for being the cause of it.

You hate all of it.

As if almost on cue, an unwanted shadow creeps from around the corner. The reflection of light bouncing off his bald spot catches your attention before his miserable excuse for a face.

Stechner.

He comes to stand silently next to the two of you, his presence taunting Javi even as he feigns sympathy and understanding about what’s happened. Your eyes dart to the side, your face twisted in disgust when his elbow innocuously brushes against yours. There are only mere millimeters between you and Javi, but you scoot as close to him as you can possibly get to avoid any other contact, no matter how small.

Javi looks over at him briefly, his expression unmoving, before he turns his attention back to the board and crosses his arms tighter, closing himself off to whatever interaction Stechner undoubtedly wants to provoke him into. His mustache ticks to the side in annoyance, but he doesn’t have the will to fight with this piece of shit anymore.

You, on the other hand….

“What the fuck are you doing here, Stechner?” you say, your tongue spitting poison as you glare at him.

“I just wanted to congratulate Agent Peña for a job well done. I really didn’t think he’d pull it off,” he pokes, a smug smirk tugging at his lips.

It makes you see red again, but you bite your tongue while Javi continues to ice him out. He had no interest in continuing to entertain him with a reaction after all these years. 

Yeah kick the man while he’s down you fuckin piece of shit.

“Go ahead, Peña. You earned it,” he pushes, reaching over to hand Javi the red marker— an object that used to signify a triumph had occurred, now only serving as a reminder of the amount of blood that was needlessly spilled to get here.

For the first time, Javi glances over at him– broken, his brow stern over tired brown eyes. A shadow casts across half of his handsome face in the dim lighting of the room as he glowers at the other man before turning his back to walk away without a single word. Your heart breaks into a thousand pieces as you watch him disappear silently back into the solace of  his office, his fists rhythmically clenching in time with his footsteps.

“Tough crowd,” Stechner snarks. 

His obnoxious voice slices the quiet like a paper cut–a stinging fucking nuiscance in your prescence.  

“Fuck you, Stechner. Don’t you have some democratically elected government to stage a coup in or something? Some more lives to ruin in the fucking name of ‘national security’?” You spit with all the venom you can muster. 

You nearly feel like you’re snarling. 

“Ooo, forgot you’re a feisty one” he chuckles nonchalantly.

You scrunch your face in disgust at his callousness—his complete lack of care for human life and the consequences they have to live with because of the shit he’s involved in makes your blood boil. Plus, the fact that he still can’t seem to leave Javi the fuck alone after all this borders on harassment in your eyes.

He stands next to you, an ugly smirk on his face as he awaits your reaction, “didn’t mean to upset your little boyfriend. I did genuinely mean it,” he shrugs with indifference. 

“Oh, please,” you roll your eyes as you turn to face him, “you don’t give a single fuck about his feelings or anything else outside of your own sociopathic interests.” 

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about my interests. You’ve probably got an exciting life of playing housewife ahead of you. Why don’t you worry about that and if it’ll be fulfilling enough for you instead?” He cocks his head to the side as he studies you, “or better yet, worry about if playing house with you will be fulfilling enough for him.”

Your heart races as adrenaline surges through you. Your fist twitches like it’s begging for you to use it to make a nice shiner on his already treacherous face, but you resist.

Instead, you do the next best thing that comes to your mind—something you’ve replayed doing over and over in your daydreams since the first time Javi ever even told you about this sick fascination the man had with being a thorn in his side.

You use all your stifled rage and turn in his direction, saliva gathered in your mouth that you release with a whoosh. The wad of your spit lands on his dress shoes with a hefty plop and your jaw clenches tight as you look back up at him. You stare straight into his beady eyes without any sign of wavering. “Like I said—fuck you,” you grit through your teeth before turning on your heel to walk away.

…………………………………………………………….

Not even a week later you’re walking to your kitchen and it truly hits you.

It’s all over.

Over.

It’s finally fucking over.

You stop in your tracks as you glance around the cozy space of your apartment. The soft yellow light from a table lamp next to your couch bathes the living room in the most familiar, comforting glow. You only have a week, give or take however long it takes you to pack, before you have to leave it behind for good.

The realization makes your chest tighten with an overwhelming sense of nostalgia.

This apartment became so much more than just a government-issued box. You overcame shit here, you triumphed and failed, you got back up again—you fell in love here—it was always there for you to run back to for solace and safety when the outside world felt unbelievably cruel and now you have to say goodbye.

It feels like a heartbreak.

It’s even harder knowing you have no real home to go back to for the time being. You figure you’ll deal with that once you’re back on American soil–find some place to rent temporarily while you figure out what the actual fuck to do with your life next. 

You’re smoking on your little terrace when you hear Javi enter the front door with a commotion. You peek your head through the sliding door and giggle to yourself as he fumbles with the unassembled boxes he said he’d grab for you on his way back from the office. You rush back inside to help him as they slip out from under his arm as he closes the door.

“Here, give me those,” you say gently. 

“Took you long enough,” he teases with a grin.

You roll your eyes and pluck your cigarette from your lips, “here, maybe this’ll change your attitude,” you giggle as you slot it through the dip in his lower lip. "So, how’d it go?” you ask as you rest the boxes against the arm of the couch. 

After Javi decided to go on the record with the local journalist who helped uncover the government scandal Crosby had wanted to keep tightly lidded, he was called back to the Embassy. He knew his actions meant it was going to be the end of his time with the DEA, so any expected reprimand he wanted to get ahead of prior to entering the meeting. 

“I just let him get a couple shots off before I told him I resigned this morning,” he shrugs as he falls onto your couch, taking a long inhale of the cigarette you gifted him, “the look on his face was fucking priceless,” he chuckles as he exhales smoke to the ceiling. 

“Damn, I wish I coulda seen it,” you say dreamily.

Javi huffs out a laugh as he reaches out for your waist, pulling you over to him until you fall into his lap. “Last thing we need is another high-ranking official with your spit on their shoes, muñeca,” he tsks with a raised eyebrow. 

“He’s lucky it was only spit,” you shrug indifferently as you pluck the cigarette from him and take a quick drag before handing it back. “How are you feeling about all of it though, Javi?” your tone shifts sweetly as you brush your fingers through his soft hair.

He inhales deeply, followed by a long sigh. He had fought himself for days on if he was actually going to go through with exposing everything. He went through every possible scenario with you each night as you laid in bed together until the one where he finally decided he needed to go through with it. 

You knew that even though both of you knew shit was going to hit the fan once the news was out, your quiet strength and reassurance was going to be something Javi needed to reinforce his decision and to stop him from beating himself up after the fall out. 

That night, you spent as much time as he needed just listening and comforting him with soft-spoken words of encouragement. 

“You're a good man, Javi. I won’t ever let you forget it,” you repeated it as many times as he needed to hear it, even in spite of the times he tried to tell you otherwise. 

You have no intention of stopping the reminders any time in the near future. 

Or ever for that matter.

“I don’t know—it’s like what the fuck do I do now? Okay, I let it all out, but it’s not gonna change a goddamn thing. They’ll stay behind bars, but this shit’s just going to start over again with some other piece of shit trying to get a monopoly over the drug routes,” he fidgets with the hem of your shirt absentmindedly, his brows pulled together in frustration.

“You didn’t do it because you expected them to change anything. You did it because it was the right thing to do–not to mention it forced their hand in keeping The Gentlemen of Cali in prison. Whatever comes after it is on them. You more than did your part, okay? We’re done. You’re done, Javi,” you cup his face tenderly and lean in to kiss him softly.

A comfortable silence settles between you as he lets your words wash over him. 

“Should we go out for one last night at our spot? I think we both need to blow off some steam,” you proposition.

“I guess I could use a drink,” he sighs as he stares off at some somewhere in front of him.

“Shit, or several,” you huff as you roll off of his lap onto the couch cushion next to him. “Wanna put some boxes together before we get ready?”

“We probably should,” he yawns, “God, I fucking hate moving,” he grumbles.

“I’m trying not to dwell on the fact that it’s happening and focus more on the task itself,” you groan as you pull yourself off the couch reluctantly.

“What? You don’t wanna leave? Figured you’d be ready to take the first flight out,” he questions as you stand in front of him, your hands outstretched for him to take so you can help pull him up to his feet.

He wraps his arms around your waist and gazes down at you, his eyebrow raised as he awaits your response. You chew the inside of your lip as you look away from him. You should want to get out of here, but it’s not that simple to you.

It never fucking is.

“I dunno,” you shrug, “is it not all a little bittersweet?” you look back up at him with glassy eyes.

“I guess I haven’t really let it hit me yet,” he sighs as he places a gentle hand to your neck. 

“Over there,” you point at your coffee table, “I had my first Christmas here with you and Murphy, gave you your presents. I was so excited to share them. I was pretty sure you hated me though,” you smile wistfully.

“I never hated you,” his eyes light up as he chuckles, “I wanted you, muñeca—I was trying to be professional.”

“Right, the ol’ ‘he’s mean to you cause he likes you’ excuse, huh,” you tease before continuing your reminiscing. “And then there on the couch—you’ve basically left an indent in the shape of your body from how many times you fell asleep there,” you pause as memories flood your mind, your tone shifting even more sentimentally as you continue. “It’s also the first place we said ‘I love you,’” you suck your lower lip tight between your teeth as you hold back tears.

Javi looks down at you with adoration in his eyes as he tucks your hair behind your ear gently, “we’ll make more memories other places, muñeca. Anywhere you want.”

You slip from his arms quietly, lost in your memories. “Do you know how many hours we spent working with all our shit spread out all over the living room floor? And my bedroom floor too, actually. All those nights we spent chain smoking and drinking until we passed out on top of our files. Murphy puked in that corner one night cause he thought there was a trashcan there for some reason,” you laugh.

“I made him scrub that shit for thirty more minutes after you went to sleep,” he confesses as he stares off at the corner.

“Javi!” you turn around in shock.

“He did a piss poor job! And you were so upset—he pissed me the fuck off,” he laughs.

You walk over to the doorway of your bedroom with Javi following behind you. You stop and scan around the room as Javi wraps his arms around you from behind, placing a kiss to your temple. You cross your arms over his and lean your head back against the broadness of his chest.

“Where do I even start in here?” you sigh.

“I remember one night after we had been out,” he starts, his own memories coming to mind, “I found you passed out in the closet after you said you had something to show me. Never found out what it was though.”

“Oh my fucking god,” you turn in Javi’s arms to hide your face in his chest, “I don’t even think there actually was anything, but who the fuck knows now.”

“Spent so many nights sitting on the edge of your bed waiting for you to fall asleep so you’d feel safe…now I get to sleep next to you in it,” he adds with a soft smile, “get to do other stuff with you in it too,” he grins cheekily.

You give him an eye roll punctuated with a loving smirk as you step further into the room, “I guess I’m no better, really—thought about you too many times to count in that bed,” you confess with a flirty look back to Javi.

He smirks playfully, “and then you’d come to work with me? You’re bad, baby.”

“Don’t act like you weren’t thinking about me when you got off too,” you scoff.

“Drove me fucking crazy,” he rasps as he follows you deeper into your room.

You meet him in the middle and press yourself into him, a flirty pout painted on your lips as you gently take his chin between your thumb and forefinger to guide him to your lips. He hums into your kiss as you suck his bottom lip between your teeth with a light nip.

You pull back slightly and he chases your mouth for more, but you pull away further with a taunting grin, “I don’t wanna get too worked up, Javi. Doctor’s orders.”

“Thought you didn’t care about those, muñeca?” he sighs in faux-frustration as he sits on the edge of your bed.

“If you care, I care,” you shrug playfully, “now, lets put some fucking boxes together.”

……………………………………………………………

Later that evening, you’re digging through your closet trying to decide what to wear to the bar. Javi had left to bring some boxes to his place and get himself ready. You don’t care if it's the same bar you’ve frequented for years, you wanted to go out with a bang, so you pull out a  scandalous, wine-colored, slinky silk slip dress. You decide to pair it with a pair of black, strappy heels that make your legs look incredible and a black cropped leather jacket.

On top of showing out, you also wanted to stop Javi dead in his tracks. You figure the peek of skin from the slit that rides up to the top of your thigh would do the trick.

You don’t think you’ll ever get tired of the way he drinks you in when you’re actually able to get dressed up. 

You made plans for the two of you tonight that had come to mind after you’d found his black DEA jacket hanging in your closet as you started to inventory which clothes to pack. Tonight, you were going to make good on your promise to make him pay–as you’d been teasing for weeks– and that jacket was going to be the catalyst once the two of you got home from the bar.

While doing your hair and makeup, you lose track of time, lost in the music playing as you swatch different shades of lipsticks on your hand. A knock at the door makes you jump. “Shit,” you whisper to yourself, “Javi, if that’s you, just come in,” you yell from your bedroom.

As you quickly slip on your dress, you hear the front door open and close behind him, then a sigh as he plops himself onto the couch.

“Sorry,” you hop out of your room, a ball of frustration with one sandal in hand, the other hanging off your foot. 

Your night of seduction was not off to a great start, but Javi looked dashing as hell in a pair of tight, dark wash jeans and a light red button up, finished off with his usual leather jacket and a pair of boots. 

This man’s fashion choices are always so predictable but at least he knows what he looks sexy in.

You stop in your tracks as you take him in with a glimmer in your eye. He’s manspread on your couch, making it look smaller than it already is, his fingers laced behind his head leisurely as he eyes you up and down with a charming lopsided smile. 

God you can’t wait for him to fuck you senseless later.

“Muñeca, what are you doing?,” he chuckles as he stands to come help you. He extends a hand out to you, that you gladly take, and he leads you to sit on the couch.

“I couldn’t get the stupid fucking thing through the thing,” you point to the ankle strap of your shoe, aggravated and flustered after it made a fucking fool out of you.

“The thing through the thing...right,” he repeats, “give me the other one,” he says as he kneels in front of you.

You lean over and place it next to him on the floor as he takes your ankle into his hand. The small touch is enough to set your skin on fire, that nagging sensitivity from not being fucked in weeks making you crazy again.

“Mmm, I could get used to this,” you tease as you bite your lip with a smile. He looks up at you with a playful smirk and takes your other ankle into his hands to lift your foot before slipping the other shoe on delicately.

You lean back on your hands as you watch him there kneeling in front of you. Maybe your little fashion mishap is possibly what you needed to get this night started after all.

Javi gently ghosts his fingers against your skin as he loops the strap through the clasp. “Thank you, baby,” you purr with a sultry pout.

“Con gusto, muñeca,” his eyes glint with mischief as he lifts your foot up again, placing it on his shoulder before he caresses his hands up and down your calf possessively. Your tongue slips out to lick your lower lip as you lock eyes with him, both of you daring the other to push their luck further.

His eyes bore into yours as he starts to place slow kisses to the inside of your ankle before inching up slowly, pressing his lips in a line up your calf before he comes to a stop. As your breath hitches at the sight in front of you, a shot of arousal pools in your belly. You wait with baited breath to see if he’s going to continue his path or leave you hanging.

He hadn’t seen yet that another part of the outfit you put together to stun him was a lack of panties.

He smirks against your skin as he starts to kiss his way from your knee to the middle of your inner thigh. A quiet moan slips through your lips and as it hits his ears, he scrapes his teeth against your skin.

“You’re almost to your surprise, Javi,” you breathe out. 

As his eyes darken, he lifts your other leg onto his shoulder and he moves to kiss his way up its soft skin in the same path he took on the other. This time, when he reaches the point where he can’t kiss any further without lifting your dress up higher, he pauses and looks up at you, awaiting permission to take it further.

Your response is to reach forward and run your fingers through his hair as you push your hips forward as encouragement.

His brow furrows as he lifts your dress up higher on your hips until he realizes your pussy is completely bare in front of him, 

“Jesus fucking christ,” he exhales.

“You like your surprise?” you coo. Instead of answering, Javi pulls your hips forward and locks his arms around your upper thighs. As your back hits the couch, you let out an entertained squeal.

He dives between your legs, wasting no time as he drags a flattened tongue through your sensitive folds with a groan. You hiss at the sensation followed by a breathless, “fuck yes,” as you arch into his face.

It’s been an almost torturously long time since you’ve had his mouth between your legs, so you allow yourself to revel in it for just a little while before you’re too far gone to leave the apartment. He hums into your core as you tangle your fingers tighter in his hair, your jaw dropped open as you watch him devour you. You roll your hips against him as you pant quietly, his grip on your thighs holding you tighter as he sucks your clit between his lips.

“Ohh my god, Javi,” you gasp, “I missed your fucking mouth,” you grit as you use all of your willpower to pull him off of you by his hair.

“What the fuck?!” he chokes out as you pull his head back, your slick shining on his chin and mustache.

Before he can say anything else, you pull his lips to yours and tease your tongue against his top lip. When he grants you entrance, you hum into each other, your tongues rolling together as you share the heady taste of you. His hand brushes up the back of your neck, twisting your hair in his fingers as he deepens the kiss. You whine at the slight sting and follow his lead as the two of you become more frantic and needy, panting into each other’s mouths until you stop him again with a hand pressed to his neck.

He swallows hard against your hand, your lips still centimeters from each other. You lean forward one more time to tauntingly pull his bottom lip between your teeth, followed by a simple “let’s go,” as you pant and roll yourself out of his grip.

“Wh—what do you mean?” he’s left stunned and pussy drunk on the living room floor.

“Let’s go to the bar,” you feign ignorance, though the wicked smirk plastered across your face says you know exactly what you’re doing.

“Muñequita, you’ve been begging me to fuck you for weeks and now you’re telling me you’d rather go to the fucking bar?” he questions as he stands up from the floor, frustrated, hard, and confused.

You bite your lower lip and giggle when you look down at where the outline of his cock strains against the front of his pants, proud of yourself. “Yep! Just let me go put on some lipstick,” you smile as you pat him on the cheek and disappear into the bathroom.

In the living room you hear him exhaling long and slow as he tries to redirect his blood flow back to brain. When you exit the bathroom and grab your purse off the kitchen counter, he’s laid out on the couch with his arm thrown over his eyes.

“You okay, baby?” you purr as you rub his shoulder.

“Why are you doing this?” he groans with a pout.

“Doing what?” you say with an innocent tilt of your head.

“Fuck, I need that drink,” he says as he pushes himself off the couch.

“Javi wait,” you call him towards you. He looks at you skeptically, unsure of what your next move might be. “Just come here, your hair is a mess.”

Of your own doing 

He reluctantly lets you set his hair right. The whole time you basically gloat in his face as you fix it with gentle strokes, your face inches from his, lips painted so pretty for him.

“Qué guapo, Javier,” you beam.

He rolls his eyes, hands coming up to his hips in quiet defiance.

“I’m sorry baby, it hurts me too, ya know,” you pout as you slide past him towards the front door.

………………………………………….

By the time the two of you make it to the bar, it’s nearing capacity. Javi leads you through the crowd by your hand as he weaves in and out of the sea of people until you make it to the bar top to order.

Upon arrival, you meet the eyes of your usual bartender who immediately becomes overexcited when he sees Javi had made his —apparently—long awaited return. 

“Javier! Qué más, parcero?!” he exclaims with a wide smile as he reaches over the bar to pat Javi on the back. “Hace rato, no?”

Javi smiles, though he's not thrilled about being touched, “sí, así es hermano. Como te va?”

“Ahh, va igual que siempre, ya sabes, parce. Qué te regalo?” he asks.

“Me regalas una pola y tequila con hielo y limón, por favor,” he orders for you both.

“A la orden!” the bartender confirms before he cracks open a beer and starts to work on your tequila.

“Solo pola, Javi? Estamos celebrando o qué?” you probe. This was the last night at your bar and one of a handful of your last nights in Colombia. You wanted him to be able to let loose a little.

Celebrate your wins.

Celebrate starting new.

Celebrate not fucking dying here.

“Cálmate, muñeca. Tengo que manejarte a casa, no?” he says with a cocky eyebrow raised as he leans his hip against the bar.

“Más tardísimo, sí,” you pout as you play with collar of his shirt, “quiero bailar contigo. Sabes que no bailas sin licor. No quieres bailar conmigo, amor?” you purr as you ghost your lips against the shell of his ear.

His chest rises as he takes a strained inhale, “coquetita,” he smirks as he breathes out, shaking his head in resignation. “Va pues,” He leans over the bar and whistles in the direction of the bartender to get his attention before waving him over, “perdón y dos chupitas de guaro, tambien. Gracias hermano,” he says with a wink.

“Thank you, Javier,” you tease, a pleased smile gracing your face. 

Murphy's words from long ago echo in your head “you always say yes to her.”

“Are you trying to fucking kill me tonight?” he pinches the bridge of his nose at the idea he’ll be downing shots of fucking Aguardiente like a much younger man, dreading the impendning hangover already.

“I just want you—us—to have one last good night here…a carefree one. One where we’re not wondering if this could be the last drink we’ll ever have or the last time we’ll hear music or people laughing—we haven’t had that before, Javi. It's kind of sad, don’t you think?” you look up at him earnestly, despite your earlier teasing.

You really did just want to feel like life was normal for a night. It's beyond well-deserved.

Javi’s soft gaze scans your face, your words settling over him as you continue. “Can you honestly tell me the last time you went out and it wasn’t because you were trying to drown yourself to forget something awful?” you whisper as you bring your hand up to cup his cheek.

Your question is answered when he lowers his lips to yours for a chaste kiss in the middle of the crowd. You give him a sweet smile before you pat his cheek and turn back to the bar for your drinks.

After your little public display of affection, you’re met with surprised eyes behind the bar. 

“Oye! Desde cuándo estan juntos?!” he asks, surprised, before wagging a playfully accusatory finger at Javi, “Sabía que la coronaba, Javier! Llevaba tiempo esperando que sucediera,” he puts his hands together in a prayer as he looks to the sky. “Ven chiquita!” you laugh as he waves you over to join a group hug with him and Javi, an arm draped over each of you, “mira…” he sighs whistfully “…tortolitos nuevos,” he acts like he’s tearing up as he laughs boisterously before releasing you to push your drinks across the bar.

At least the two of you apparently had one fan rooting for you to get together over the years.

His boisterousness garners attention from other patrons around the bar and suddenly it feels like everyone’s eyes are on you and Javi, including a few friendly—or not so friendly—faces from the Embassy.

Javi grabs his leather wallet from his back pocket and plucks out a few colorful pesos, “cuanto es, hermano?” he rasps.

He waves the money away, “ahh, no pasa nada, parcero! Va por la casa.”

“Estás seguro?” Javi questions, an eyebrow raised, cash still between his fingers.

“Veté!  Antes de que me arrepienta!” he laughs heartily and shoos the two of you off.

“Muchas gracias,” Javi tilts his head towards the man, extending a few bills in his direction “para la propina. Tranquilo, hermano,” he stresses, chuckling before the man has a chance to wave his offering away too.

You grab your tequila on the rocks while Javi holds his beer in one hand and the shots in the other. You smile at him sweetly and guide him through the crowd to a quiet booth tucked in a corner that had opened up. You slide in, followed by Javi after placing the drinks on the table.

He scoots you into the middle of the curved bench, sitting as close to you as he can get before he reaches over to gently squeeze your thigh, seemingly more relaxed being away from the sea of people that crowded the bar.

You catch the eyes of Katie and the gossips across the floor as they whisper and glance in your direction, but you brush it off. You’re no longer interested in pushing your affection for Javi down to keep up appearances. 

Not now that all of this is over. Not after he saved your life. 

You turn your attention back to him, “well, that was an experience,” you crack as you take a sip of the chilled spirit, your nerves already calming as the smoothness of the tequila coats your throat.

He releases a held breath, “who knew the bartender was the one rooting for us the whole time,” he laughs as he taps his fingers against the bottle of beer in his hands.

You rest your chin on his shoulder, looking up at him affectionately as he takes a swig from his beer. You guess you can’t say you’re surprised that the bartender noticed. The two of you, plus Steve, practically lived here back when things first got rolling…before things turned to shit in Medellín and everything took a much darker turn. You didn’t think you and Javi were particularly flirty back then, though it is hard to gauge what others really saw when you’d interact. You always assumed Steve gave the two of you shit just because he was in such close proximity to you both for extended periods of time.

Either way, it makes your heart swell, an affectionate arm coming to hug around Javi’s waist as you think back on the memories. It shifts Javi’s attention from instinctually scanning the bar like he’s on watch and back down to you. 

“What’s going on with you, muñeca?” he smirks as he places a finger under your chin to tilt your face up to meet his.

You sigh the type of sigh you haven’t experienced in a while as you look at him—one that’s full of contentment and hope for what might come next, “I just love you, Javier Peña,” you say softly.

“I love you too, pretty girl,” he leans over to press a kiss to the top of your head.

“I hate to ruin our moment, but those shots ain’t gonna take themselves,” you reach over Javi to grab the tiny glasses full of the clear liquid that has fueled many-a-nights for you in this place—less so with Javi. He preferred nursing his glass of whiskey over indulging in the antics that arose between you and Steve after indulging in a little too much of it.

“Fuck,” he huffs, “I’m only doing this for you, you know,” his face pre-scrunches up at the thought of taking a shot of the stuff. The strong anise flavor surely isn’t for everyone but he’s making out to be much worse than it really is.

“I know, baby. You’ll be okay, I promise,” you pout playfully as you slide a shot glass over to him, “listo?” you check with an anticipatory eyebrow raised.

His only response is securing the shot glass in his hand reluctantly.

“To getting the fuck out of here alive…together,” you tilt your shot glass towards his and he meets it. A tinny clink rings out between the glasses before you touch them to the table then bring them to your mouths, downing their contents in one gulp.

Javi winces and shudders next to you and you can’t help but be entertained by it. “This should be easy for someone who drinks whiskey like it’s water,” you tease. 

"That's offensive to whiskey,” he sips his beer in hopes it washes the taste from his mouth. 

The two of you sit happily in your little corner, laughing together as you spend time re-telling old jokes and stories that unfolded here. You share caresses and playful touches as the alcohol settles into your bones and the buzzing of the bar fades around you. You take plenty of opportunities to tease your lips against his neck and whisper in his ear, which he gladly revels in, despite prying eyes. He keeps a steady hand on your thigh the entire time, drawing soft circles against your skin and occasionally he’ll  tease you back by sliding his fingers under the hem of your dress, making your breath hitch.

After finishing your tequila, you stretch your arms over your head before you turn and drape them over Javi’s shoulders. Your body floods with warmth from the effects of the booze and the way he keeps looking at you like you’re the eighth wonder of the world. 

“Mmm,” you hum, “I’m gonna take a trip to the bathroom real quick. Meet me on the dance floor with a fresh drink?” You proposition. 

“Cualquier cosa por ti, muñeca,” he unwraps one of your arms from his shoulders so he can kiss the top of your hand.

You giggle then surge forward to kiss him quickly before you scoot out of the booth and walk towards the bathroom. Along the way, you hum to yourself as you follow along with the music and push your way through the crowd.

When you reemerge from the bathroom into the hallway, Javi is leaning against the wall in that all too familiar spot where he’s waited for you before, two fresh drinks in his hands. 

“I’m having major deja vu right now, Peña,” you say as you sway over to him, a teasing smirk on your lips. He returns a knowing grin as he extends a drink out to you. 

“Oh yeah? How so,” he rasps before taking a sip of his whiskey. 

“Thought you were gonna kiss me in this hallway so many times over the years,” you raise an eyebrow as you bring your drink to your lips. 

“And I wanted to kiss you every single one of those times,” he takes a step towards you and wraps an arm around your waist to hold you against him. “Was hard not to,” he adds as his eyes quickly drop to your lips before meeting your gaze again. 

“Entonces, bésame ya, Javi,” you breathe.

You smile into his lips when they meet yours and raise your free hand up to cup his jaw delicately. He takes his time, teasing his tongue against yours, making your breath stutter as you deepen it. Your hand moves from his jaw to the back of his head where you thread your fingers in his soft waves to keep him close. 

When you part, you’re breathless as he nuzzles his nose against yours before placing a soft kiss to your forehead. 

“Finally,” you whisper as your eyes gleam under fluttering lashes. 

“Was it everything you hoped it would be?” he asks as he ghosts his lips against your neck. 

“Mmmhmm,” you hum as he plants a few wet kisses against your skin. 

When he reaches your lips again, he stops as an old Mexican Bolero starts to play over the speakers. He raises a playful eyebrow then gulps down the rest of his whiskey in one go before he takes you by the hand to guide you back out to the crowded floor. 

You laugh as you follow, “Javi, what are you doing?” 

“Thought you wanted to dance, baby?” he husks as he guides you to rest a hand on the back of his shoulder before he wraps a steadying arm around your waist. He captures your other hand in his and raises them slightly as he gives you a wink. 

You smirk as you look up at him, confused, but intrigued as he begins with slow, calculated steps, his hips swaying against yours as he guides you back and forth, then side to side. He keeps you pressed close to him, your face only inches from his, as you follow his lead even though you have no idea how to perform the correct steps yourself. 

Who the fuck is this?!

You beam up at him, your heart swelling in your chest as you uncover a new secret about him, “thought you didn’t dance?”

“I don’t,” he rasps as he turns your bodies languidly until you’ve made a complete circle, ensuring your steps stay in time with his through the turn.

“So what the fuck are we doing right now then?” you laugh brightly as he returns a grin.

He takes a quiet beat and gently pushes you away from him before turning you slowly under his arm and guiding your body back to press against his. “My mom taught me,” he says quietly as he drops his eyes to the sliver of floor between you. 

A loving smile spreads across your face when his eyes flit back up to yours. You can’t help but notice the quiet melancholy behind their chocolate brown rings even though he smiles back. 

“She would be proud of you, you know,” you say with hushed words meant only for him as you press your cheek against his. 

His breath catches in his throat as he holds you close. He gives you a small nod that says so much more than words ever could before he clears his throat and guides you outwards for one last slow spin under his arm.

As the song comes to an end, he drops your hand and brings his own to cup your cheek. You lean into his palm as you look up at him through your lashes while he traces his thumb back and forth over the scar on your cheekbone—a tiny defect left behind after being attacked in the jungle. 

The look in his eyes along with the gentle gesture makes your heart tighten in your chest. Your love for him threatens to overflow into tears, so you do the only thing you know how to do in moments that hit you like this and guide his lips to yours. They brush against his gently as you pour every ounce of love that no longer fits in your own body into his for safekeeping. 

As you pull away, you stare into each other's eyes. The rest of the dance floor faded out around the two of you a long time ago. You’re shocked back into reality with a bright flash that blinds you both followed by the whirring of a polaroid camera.

“Ow, what the fuck?” you squint your eyes as you bring a hand up to cover them until your vision returns to normal. 

Once it does, you’re met with an outstretched image of you and Javi gazing stupidly lovingly into each other’s eyes. When your eyes flit up to the photographer, you’re almost just as shocked as you were when Javi unveiled his dance moves. 

Katie.

You look at her blankly, unsure of what to say as Javi takes the polaroid from between her fingers. 

“You guys looked cute or whatever,” she says with an eyeroll. 

“Oh, um wow—thank you, Katie,” you smile with a dumbfounded gratitude. 

“You’re welcome, I guess,” she snarks, though a tiny curl of a smile forms on her lips as she turns to leave. 

“You ready to get outta here, muñeca?” Javi asks with a tilt of his head towards the exit. 

“Yes,” you nod as you lace your fingers in his, “take me home Javier Peña.” 

In the car, you ask Javi to see the photo again. He had tucked it into the pocket on the front of his shirt. You smile to yourself as you trace your fingers over it knowing this sweet moment between you was captured on film to keep forever. 

You look to the side where you catch him already looking at you, looking at the photo. You chuckle under your breath and pass it over to him with a wistful smile before he slides it back into his pocket. 

On the drive back to your apartment, your head finds its place against the window as you watch the illuminated buildings pass you by, the dark silhouette of the Andes providing a tranquil backdrop against their chaos. The sights you’ve come to know and love during your time in Bogotá. Javi keeps his fingers laced in yours, occasionally pulling your hand to his lips to leave a kiss to the back of it. 

Javi pulls his Jeep into your driveway, shifting into park before shutting the engine off. The cabin goes quiet as the soft glow of the streetlights leak in through the windows. You sigh contentedly and a warmth fills your chest when you glance over to Javi. His expression mirrors yours—a much needed tranquility softening the lines that usually etch his face. He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear before bringing you in for one last kiss before heading inside. You breathe into each other as time feels like it slows, savoring each second that passes with your lips pressed to his. The energy in the cabin shifts as his kiss blooms in intensity. You both tangle your fingers in each other’s hair, slanting your lips against the others’ in a desperate need to be as close as possible. Your teeth clash together between languid rolls of tongues and teasing nips against the other’s lips. You moan quietly as you let him overtake your senses. You’d love nothing more than for him to fuck you in this car right now, but you stop him by placing a delicate finger against his lips. 

Your plan.

“Take me inside, Javi,” you command through a pant. 

He turns to unlatch his door quietly before he rounds the front of the Jeep to open your door. 

…………………………………………………..

You all but skip up the stairs to get to your apartment with Javi trailing behind you. You twirl the keys around your finger while you wait for him by your front door. You bite your lip playfully as he meets you at the top with an insistent kiss, the tension you’d drummed up at the bar dancing on a live wire now that the two of you are that much closer to your bed.

You smile into his kiss as he pushes you up against the door, a knee slotting between your legs as he takes more of you. When it taps against your heat, you gasp as you pull away from his lips reluctantly. “Javi, gotta unlock the door,” you whisper breathlessly.

“Sure I can’t just fuck you right up against it, muñeca?” he slurs as he turns you in his arms to face the door now, the lock coming into your view. He doesn’t let up in teasing you, his broadness now pressed against your back and kissing up the side of your neck as you clumsily attempt to get the key in the goddamn lock.

He got you so heated and worked up in the car you briefly thought about abandoning your idea completely, but then a vision of seeing his dark brown eyes glazed over with lust underneath you snapped you back into your mission.

Once you’ve crossed the threshold into your living room, Javi quickly turns you in his arms again to face him, kicking the door closed behind him as he chases your lips. You giggle into another kiss, your fingers gripping at the back of his neck while your other hand rests on his chest.

When he’s got you backed up to the couch, you turn the tables and rotate yourself so that you’re in front of him now, pushing him back to gently land on the couch. “Wait right here,” you rasp in his ear, punctuated by a quick nip to his earlobe as you drag your hand over his growing bulge.

“Don’t take too long,” he groans as his dark eyes watch you sashay your way to the bedroom.

“Don’t worry, baby, it’ll be worth it,” you lilt and shoot him one last devilish smirk before you click the door closed.

It waits on the back on your vanity chair right where you’d left it before he came to pick you up. His black bomber jacket with DEA printed giant white letters on the back. You don’t know when he’d left it here—probably some late night when clothes were shed and thrown off somewhere in your room never to be thought of again.

You sit on the bed to remove your heels first, but when another filthy thought crosses your mind, you improvise and decide to keep them on. Next, you stand as you pull your dress over your head and toss it to the floor, leaving yourself completely bare besides the black strappy heels. You tip toe over to the chair excitedly, picking up the jacket and zipping it up to the top. It hits the tops of your thighs just enough to conceal your bare pussy, though the curves under your ass cheeks peek out teasingly.

You give a  spin in front of the mirror to check yourself out before making your grand entrance, pleased with your decision to keep the heels on because of the way you felt they pulled the outfit together.

It was finally time to make him pay.

You crack the door and see Javi planted exactly where you left him, his fingers tapping anxiously against the tops of his knees as he awaits your reappearance. You smirk playfully as you step back out into the living room with a confident strut.

Javi’s eyes grow wide at the sight in front of him, his tapping fingers now gripped around his knees giving them a tight squeeze. “Where’d you find that?” he smirks as he rakes his eyes from the tips of your toes till he meets your sultry gaze.

“Found it while I was packing,” you shrug, “I got cold when I took off my dress, so I put it on,” you pout innocently as you twirl your hair around a finger.

A lopsided grin is plastered on his face as you slink over to him, planting your hands on the back of the couch on either side of him as you hover over his lips.

“You got cold but you didn’t put on any pants?” he questions with a skeptical eyebrow raised as  he lightly drags his fingers up your thigh to pinch the hem of the jacket between his them.

“Would you prefer it if I did?” You threaten as you push his back deeper into the couch, slinking over him like a big cat ready to pounce on its prey.

“Fuck no,” he breathes out as his eyes burn into yours.

“Mmm, that’s what I thought,” you say with narrowed eyes, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth.

Once you’ve got him settled on the couch where you want him, you stand up in front of him. Bit by bit, you unzip the jacket slowly, revealing more skin until you stop just under your collarbone. Javi watches with his lips slightly parted, entranced by whatever little show he thinks you’re about to put on for him.

Perfect.

With one smooth motion, you spin around in front of him, leaning over so that your ass and naked slit are in full view. You look back at him over your shoulder with a seductive smirk, as he licks his lips and rubs his hand against his jaw, taking in the sinful shape of your body as it's bent over.

You get drunk on pulling these reactions out of him. He loves to act like he’s always fully in control with everything else but he can never maintain it when it comes to what you do to him.

In a filthy move, you spread your thick cheeks apart in front of him, allowing him a perfect view of where your slick has started to drip through your folds. To taunt him further, you reach your hand between your legs until he can see them, then tease your lips gently with your fingers. A soft moan floats from your lips to his ears as his breath hitches behind you. He exhales slowly, strained, as he reaches out to grab a handful of…you.

As he does, you whip around lightning quick and smack his hand away, pulling a darkly amused laugh from his lips.

You can’t help but return one.

“Where’d you learn to do that, muñeca?” he grips the tops of his knees again as he tries his best to keep his hands to himself.

“You think you were the only one who talked to the working girls, Javi?” you slink closer to him, ghosting your breath against the skin of his neck as you lean over him.

He chuckles under his breath, “suppose not,” he rasps as he continues the rhythmic squeezing of his knees, the pace of their tensing and releasing increasing as your proximity to him closes. 

He gets so antsy when he can’t touch.

Without another word, you place a gentle, teasing kiss to his lips and then linger there, centimeters from his face, daring him to make a move. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth and watch in satisfaction as his gaze drops when its plumpness springs free again. It’s like a call he can’t resist as he surges towards you, his lips crashing against yours. You let him believe he’s slowly wearing you down as you moan quietly into his mouth and return his advances. He deepens it with a groan, rolling his tongue against yours as he wraps his fingers in your hair and tries to pull you into his lap.

Like you did earlier, you pull away quickly and smack his hand again with an overdramatic gasp, “travieso!” You scold with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

He groans as he tilts his head back to rest against the couch cushions, frustrated and hard in front of you. “Muñeca, déjame tocarte, please, fuck,” he begs, his resolve slowly inching closer to snapping.

He doesn’t know you don’t plan on letting up any time soon.

“Quítate la ropa,” you command as you gesture for him to stand with your hand. You place yourself directly in front of him with your arms crossed and your hip popped out to the side authoritatively.

You watch with fire behind your eyes as he obeys, following his fingers further down as he undoes button after button. You smirk, pleased, as it drops from his shoulders and he tosses it aside.

“Sigue,” you encourage with a flirty grin.

He stands with a frustrated huff, then quickly undoes his belt while he steps out of his shoes. You watch, fully entertained, as you gently twist your shoulders side to side, twirling your hair between your fingers as he lets his pants and underwear fall to the floor in front of you.

You’re actually surprised he even had underwear on at all.

You gasp as his thick cock springs free, painfully hard and leaking after all of your teasing. He hasn’t even received the worst of your plan yet and it spurs you on as you gently place a hand on his shoulder and push him to sit on the couch again.

“I knew you could do what you’re told, Javi,” you lilt as you slowly straddle his lap. You both hiss desperately as you grip onto his length and tap his head against your swollen clit. His hands instinctively move to grip your waist to pull you closer but half way through, he pauses, a brief glimpse of the realization that he fucked up again flashing across his expression.

Instead of scolding him, you allow it and confirm your permission as you capture his lips for a heated, sloppy kiss. The grip of his strong hands tightens on your curves making you sigh into his mouth as you writhe in his grip.

Despite your plan to tease him until he can’t take it anymore, your own resolve threatens to crack little by little, spurred on by how desperately you’ve been wanting him to fuck you for weeks.

Still, you continue on as you place your hands on his shoulders, gripping his length as you do before you slowly start to sink your wet heat onto him. Once he’s bottomed out, buried deep in your fluttering pussy, you can’t help but pant out a quiet, “fuck yes,” as a relieved groan rips from his chest underneath you.

The familiar stretch of him has your head going fuzzy. You feel like a fucking addict taking their first hit after a stint of sobriety. You even don’t realize your nails have dug little half moons into his shoulders until you open your eyes enough to see where the goldenness of his skin has tinged slightly red where you hold on. All that matters now is that you feel so fucking good when you’re full of him.

With his head buried in your chest, he grits a low “fuck, I missed this pussy,” as his big hands move from your hips to grip handfuls of your ass. You hum as you lose yourself in the feeling of him slowly beginning to bounce you up and down the length of his cock before you stop him, grabbing his hands to put them back on your waist, as your forehead drops to rest against his.

“Mierda,” he groans, “are you gonna let me fuck you or what, muñeca?” his hands flex against your sides as he stretches underneath you, his body naturally trying to get even a smidge of friction.

You bite your lip as you look down at him, the frustration painted across his face with furrowed brows and a pouty frown sends another wave of arousal through you. You lean forward slightly and place a sweet kiss against his jaw before you rasp in his ear, “I told you I was gonna make you pay, Javi.”

“The fuck,” he pants, “I have. I have. I’m sorry,” he pleads as he throbs inside of you.

“You will have when I say you have, baby,” your voice drops to a sultry purr as you slowly begin to unzip the jacket the rest of the way. As the swells of your breasts come into his view, his eyes darken, swirling with defiance and lust as he forces himself to keep his hands on your hips and your hips only. A satisfied smile grows on your lips as you let it slide down your shoulders and onto the floor.

To reward him for not immediately reaching out his hand to roll a peaked nipple in his fingers, you rise slowly along his length with a hiss and a gasp. His eyes drop to your laps where he watches with his jaw slack at the way your slick coats his cock before you settle into his lap again.

“Mmm,” you moan as you bury your face into his neck and begin to plant wet kisses against his hot skin. He grunts when you start grinding in his lap, pulling you against him harder so that his coarse hair scratches gently against your clit.

“Ohh,” you keen when he starts to slowly thrust up into you before you stop him again, pulling off of his cock with a gasp. He growls harshly underneath you, his eyes even more defiant after the loss of your heat.

“No,” you exhale sharply through your nose, “your hips so much as fucking twitch, I’ll get off of your lap again and finish the job myself, right here in front of you,” you threaten, your chest heaving with how bad you want him to bend you over and fuck you senseless despite your words.

“Okay, Please, I’ll stop. Just need to feel you again,” he strings the words together in a barely coherent plea, his expression pulled into near pathetic desperation.

You accept, gripping his length in your hand again to line him up at your soaking entrance. This time, you thrust down into his lap, hard, pulling simultaneously obscene moans from your throats as you squeeze around him.

Your own teasing is starting to drive you just as fucking insane as it is him, so despite your warning, you give in to the overwhelming urge to kiss him. He responds with hungry lips and tongue, unable to resist tangling a hand in your hair as you deepen it. You stay in his lap like this, taking your time gliding your tongue against his in slow rolls, the fight between whose mouth has the upper hand shifting back and forth between your shared pants and nips against the other’s lips.

You purposefully clench around him as you dip your head to languidly lick up the side of his neck. When he whimpers and twitches inside of you, you return a low taunting moan against the shell of his ear.

That’s when he decides he can’t fucking take it anymore.

The next time you sit up straight, he surges forward and sucks a peaked nipple between his lips before he rolls his tongue against the soft skin and sucks. It sends a shock wave through your body, making you cry out in surprise as your fingers tangle in his hair. He grips one hand on your hip and another slinks behind your back, keeping your chest pressed to his mouth as he alternates between tits, licking and sucking one and then the other.

Your head drops back as your jaw goes slack, your brain suddenly going completely empty at the feeling of his lips against your skin. It takes all of your fucking willpower to not start bouncing on his cock frantically, instead translating into a few slow rolls of your hips as you try to keep up the game you’re now losing. 

“Javi,” you whine, “fuck, feels so…” you trail off as he swirls his tongue around your nipple, your words transforming into a lewd moan.

“Aww,” he taunts in a low husk against your scorching skin, “giving up so easily, muñeca? Should’ve known you never stood a fucking chance.”

His mouth continues its ministrations against your tits, biting against the soft swell of one as you whine above him and roll your hips pathetically. He takes you by surprise when he tears his lips from your chest and replaces his other hand on your hips, stopping your movements, pulling you tight against his pelvis.

“Fuck!” you cry out when his lips go back to licking and teasing your nipples. He groans almost primally against your skin as he flexes inside of you and refuses to let your hips move.

“Really thought you were gonna get one over on me, pretty girl?” he grits as he kisses and licks against your collarbone, continuing the teasing flexing of his length, “gotta say you gave it a good try.”

“Just wanted you to feel, ohh—” you gasp sharply when he drags his teeth against your nipple, “h—how I felt when—”

“When I was trying to keep you safe? So fucking desperate for me to fill you up that you’d risk hurting yourself?” he grips handfuls of your supple ass cheeks as he starts to drag you up and down his cock. “Me parece que la traviesa eres tú, muñeca, no?” he taunts with a cocky smirk plastered on his face.

You whine as he pulls you in for a salacious kiss. He steals your breath, both of his hands cupping your face deceptively sweetly as he licks into your mouth. It lulls you into what you think is a reprieve from his filthy mouth until he begins to fuck his hips up into your dripping cunt at a relentless pace.

You grip onto his shoulders and yelp in surprise as he punches the air from your lungs. You figure you don’t need it anymore anyway. All you need is exactly what he’s doing to you right now. He growls underneath you as he pulls you roughly against his hips, your tits bouncing in front of his face with each bruising thrust. “Now you’re gonna take— fuck, shit—” he pants as his thrusts falter, “what I give you, pretty girl.”

“Javi,” you wail breathlessly as your velvety walls start to constrict around his thickness with each pass of his swollen head against your sweet spot.

“Just wanted to fuckin’ ohh,” he lets out a strained groan in between the filth he babbles to you, “fuckin’ take care of your stubborn ass, fuck,” his grip on your soft skin tightens as he chases both of your releases.

“I know, I know,” you pant, “I—I’m sorry, Javi, I know.”

He releases his grip on one of your ass cheeks to pinch your chin between his thumb and forefinger, continuing to fuck into you as he guides your lips to his for an impassioned kiss. He breathes into it like he’s trying to convey to you just how much he’s wanted you despite the way he was suppressing his own needs to care for you after he almost fucking lost you.

He holds you there by your chin forcing you to look at him as his brows furrow, reflecting your own as you spiral closer to your end. “Better be fuckin’ be sorry,” he captures your lips sloppily, making you whine into his mouth, “I fucking love you—shit,” he pants against your lips. 

His filthy words and the way he’s fucking you mixed with the love he pours into you makes you go weak in his arms, your body seizing as your face drops to the crook of his neck. You moan loudly into his skin, biting down on the soft flesh as he fucks you through the intensity of your orgasm. Involuntary tears trail down your cheeks as you shudder in his arms before lazily pulling yourself up to look him in his eyes.

You’re entranced as your gazes meet again, his dark eyes completely blown out and glazed over with pleasure as he watches the way yours glimmer with completely fucked-out tears. You weakly bring your thumb up to trace along the plushness of his lower lip before you lean forward to suck it between your teeth gently, pulling away only briefly to whisper, “I love you too, Javi.”

He moans filthily at your sweet words and his thrusts stutter as the ferventness of your kiss becomes more frantic. As you swallow his grunts and pants, you begin to fuck him back, desperate to see him come, “oh my god, fucking fill me up, baby—need you to come,” you pant exhaustedly against his lips.

“Fuck, muñeca, I’m gonna—” his words strain and slur together, “shit, fuck, fuck,” he tangles his hands in your hair as he presses your forehead to his, coming with a deliriously hot groan that nearly sends you over the edge again. His arms squeeze tightly around your waist as he nuzzles his face into your chest, leaving reverent kisses against your skin as he pulses and twitches inside your cunt. 

You pull him from leaving kisses against your chest to kiss him breathlessly as you pant into each other in your post-orgasm bliss. As you rest your forehead against his, he hisses as your pussy involuntarily flutters around him as you come down from your high. 

“Holy shit,” he pants as his hand wraps in your hair. The brush of his fingers up your neck as they made their way there sends a satisfied shudder through your body. He peppers dutiful kisses up your neck before he tilts your head down to leave a kiss to your forehead. 

You hum over him, barely able to open your eyes in your blissed out state. The concept of words escapes you at the moment as you collapse into him again, your breathing slowly returning to normal as you stay pressed against his chest. 

Javi absentmindedly runs his fingers up and down your arms, making goosebumps break out across your skin. Equally fucked out, he tilts his head against the backrest of the couch as his own breathing slows and he softens inside of you. 

“Fuck…that was even better than I imagined it’d be,” you huff out a laugh into the crook of his neck. 

“You’re tryin’ to fucking kill me,” he beams as he drapes an arm over his face, exhausted. 

“You were trying to kill me for like three fucking weeks. I could only handle so many more days of you walking out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel before I snapped,” you push yourself up in his lap to gaze down at him with a satisfied smile. 

“Well,” he sighs, “that was a hell of a way to break the drought—worth it.”

You gasp as you slap his chest playfully then reluctantly push yourself off his lap. A quiet moan slips past your lips as his softening length leaves your body. You roll over onto the couch cushion next to him as he hops up to grab a towel to clean up with. 

He comes back with a warm washcloth and kneels on the floor in front of you. You smile down at him as he drags it gently between your legs and plants tender kisses to your inner thighs as he cleans you up. 

Once he’s satisfied with his work, he stands and extends a hand out to you to help you up off the couch. You’re just getting your footing when he scoops you up into his arms. You squeal in surprise and he returns a hearty chuckle as he carries you to the bedroom and gently tosses you onto the mattress. 

You quickly dive under the comforter and lay on your side where he comes to join you. He pushes your hair back over your shoulder as you gaze at each other in the darkness of your room. After what happened to you in the jungle, it’s like it opened a door for an even deeper connection than the two of you already had. You’ve spent many more nights just laying together like this before drifting off to sleep in his arms.

You don’t think your heart has ever felt so full. 

You scoot closer to him, draping a tired leg over his hip as he wraps you in his arms. You trace your fingers along his jaw before sliding over to trace your thumb along his lower lip, completely enamored by him, before he places a quick kiss to the tip of your thumb. 

A moment of stillness settles between you as you bask in each other’s presence while sleep threatens to take you. 

“Think we’ll be finished packing in the next couple days,” Javi says with a yawn. 

“Yeah…” you sigh before mirroring his yawn. 

“Do you know where you’re gonna go yet?” He asks as he traces his fingers along your collarbone. 

“Mmm,” you start, “not exactly. I’ll probably just find some short term rental while I job search. Don’t wanna be locked in somewhere if I’ll have to get up and leave again,” you shrug. 

Javi’s expression shifts, unease settling in the lines between his brows, as he traces his thumb along the side of your mouth. “Why don’t you just come to the ranch with me? Won’t have to be forever but at least you won’t have to worry about a place to stay.” 

You know he wants what’s best for you and deep down you know it would be the easiest option—plus, you’d get to be with him without having to be long distance. However, you also don’t want him to feel like he has to ask you out of his sense of obligation. If you move in together, you want it to be because it feels right. 

Not that you don’t feel right being with him, but neither of you have any idea of how you’ll both adjust to being thrown back into a sense of normalcy. You don’t want any possible adjustment issues to be detrimental to what you have with him now. 

Living together could be something to discuss after that adjustment.

“I dunno, Javi—I don’t want to put you or your dad in that position. I’ll figure something out…I always do,” you reassure as you cup his jaw. He averts his eyes and you can’t help but feel it pull your chest tight. 

He loves you. He wants you close to him. 

But you’ve also been burned in the past when you decide on something impulsively or because you felt trapped in a corner.

“Just promise me you’ll at least think about it? I know you value your independence and I don’t want to take that from you…I’ll support whatever you decide,” he gives a single nod before he places a kiss to your palm. 

You’re thankful that he remembers that about you, yet the solemn tone of his voice pierces directly through your heart all the same.

“I love you, Javier,” you whisper, “more than I’ve ever loved anyone. That’s not going to change no matter where I go,” you reassure. 

“I love you too, muñeca…in a way I didn’t think was possible for me anymore,” he scans your face with glassy eyes, “I’d do fucking anything for you, okay?” 

You nod your head in the dark, your own eyes becoming teary as you pull him into your lips for a breathless kiss, “I know, Javi. I know,” you whisper against his lips. 

And you believe him. You really do. He’s already proven it multiple times over. 

But you don’t yet trust yourself enough to not fuck everything up again. 

Spanish translations (some are Colombian colloquialisms)

“Javier! Qué más, parcero?!”: Javier! Whats up bro? “Hace rato, no?”: it’s been a while hasn’t it?

“sí, así es hermano. Como te va?”: yeah it has been brother. How’s it going?

“Ahh, va igual que siempre, ya sabes, parce. Qué te regalo?”: you knows the same as always, bro. What can I get for you?

“Me regalas una pola y tequila con hielo y limón, por favor,”: I’ll have a beer and a tequila on the rocks with lime, please. (Pola is slang in Bogotá for beer)

“A la orden!”: you got it/my pleasure

“Solo pola, Javi? Estamos celebrando o qué?”: Just beer, Javi? Are we celebrating or what?

“Cálmate, muñeca. Tengo que manejarte a casa, no?”: calm down, doll. I have to drive you home later, right?

“Más tardísimo, sí,” you pout as you play with collar of his shirt, “quiero bailar contigo. Sabes que no bailas sin licor. No quieres bailar conmigo, amor?”: way later, yeah. I wanna dance with you. You know you don’t dance without liquor. Don’t you want dance with me, love?

"coquetita": little flirt "va, pues": fine then "perdón y dos chupitas de guaro, tambien. Gracias hermano,”: excuse me, and two shots of Aguardiente also, thanks.

“Oye! Desde cuándo estan juntos?!” Hey! Since when are you two together?  “Sabía que la coronaba, Javier! Llevaba tiempo esperando que sucediera,” I knew you'd get her, Javier! I've been waiting for this to happen for so long. “Ven chiquita!” get over here, girl! “mira…"look, “…tortolitos nuevos,” new little lovebirds.

 “cuanto es, hermano?” how much is it?

"ahh, no pasa nada, parcero! Va por la casa.”: don't worry about it, bro. Its on the house.

“Estás seguro?” are you sure?

“Veté!  Antes de que me arrepienta!” Get outta here! Before I regret it!

“Muchas gracias,” Thank you very much.  “para la propina. Tranquilo, hermano,” for the tip. chill, brother.

“Cualquier cosa por ti, muñeca,”: anything for you, doll

“Entonces, bésame ya, Javi,”: Then kiss me already, Javi

“travieso!”: naughty!

“Muñeca, déjame tocarte," let me touch you

“Quítate la ropa,”: take off your clothes

“Sigue,”: continue/keep going

“Me parece que la traviesa eres tú, muñeca, no?”: seems to me that you're the naughty one, aren't you?