#beto

His picture was one of the longest standing cases up on the bulletin board. You had first been recruited years ago, Temu had put his picture up. Nearly forgotten at this point, Daniel Mercer had been one of the most illusive criminals on your large to-do list. 

Many had tried to snag him, but all had failed.

Thats how his file ended up under the ILU. 

Nico clicks again. New images: various beautiful women on his arm in private clubs, hotel corridors with harems of women following him around in expensive outfits. These images were fresh. It really peaked your interest, finally having an update on the bastard after all this time.

Archie leaned forwards in his chair to get a closer look. 

“As we know, he launders money through “escort services” and private events. Cash only. No digital trail. We’ve tried buyers, mules, middlemen. He smells cops every time, Temu tried everything but he’s too slippery.” 

You feel Beto shift beside you as he stares at the images. Clearly he’s been itching for this one for a while too. 

Nico glances down at his tablet. “Mercer only deals face-to-face once he’s convinced you’re real. And by real, I don’t mean paperwork. I mean vibes. The man is paranoid. He usually deals through brokers, but your intelligence spotted him a few days ago in an Airbnb in Baja. He’s making a large investment. ”

Gloria steps forward before anyone can ask the obvious looming question.

“The investment is a high priority op.” she says. “Members in the intelligence office have strategically gained access to one of his brokers, where we set up a meeting. One of us will be posing as the pimp, selling high value sex slaves for his elite clientele. Daniel Mercer is under the impression Rafa is a dealer. We’ve set up the entire cover.”

The word hangs in the air like a weight. You noticed Camila bristle uncomfortably next to you. You’ve all taken on some extreme roles in the past but this one seems to be in its own league.  

“He watches how people stand together. How they touch. Who defers to who. If it doesn’t feel lived-in, he walks. The other agents couldn’t do it. He sniffed out their stiffness nearly immediately. He only works with other men that share his… ideals.” Nico looked sick.

Another image appears: Mercer leaning in close to a woman, hand at her lower back. Possessive. Performative.

“We need him to make the meet,” Nico continues. “And to do that, we need him to believe he’s looking at something he desires..”

His eyes land on you. Then on Beto.

“You two,” Gloria says, matter-of-fact.

Beto straightens immediately resistant. “Commandante—”

Your stomach flips.

“You’re the best fit,” Nico cuts in. “You’re calm under pressure. You don’t overplay your hand, and you always do what needs to be done for the mission. And you,” he adds, nodding at you, “can sell a role without trying. You’re the best amongst us.”

Gloria folds her arms. “Your cover is simple on paper. Beto a pimp. He’s the illusive Rafa. You’re his girl. He brings you to prove he’s legit and that he has desirable product.”

Beto’s jaw tightens as he processes’. 

Your heart rate rose despite your forced emotionless exterior. Fuck. 

You’ve worked with Beto for years now. You two were close as close gets. You’ve been in more life or death situations together can you can even remember and he’s always had your back. You would die for the other. Literally. But something about this was undeniably uncomfortable. 

You’ve also been harboring a little secret. 

It was your biggest guilty pleasure. 

You have quite the crush on him. 

It started after being stationed with him on a stake out in the beginning of your career when you witnessed the way he finessed some hookers for information, and the way he smooth talked them had changed something in your opinion about the man. 

You controlled it though. No one suspected anything. You were a professional after all and a damn good actress. 

This however— this was definitely putting you in some hot water. 

“And before you say anything,” Gloria adds, already anticipating it, “no one’s asking you to cross a line you can’t walk back from. But you are going to have to be convincing.”

“What does convincing look like?” Cri asks from the back with a mocking cackle. He was loving this… a little too much, “Those two reek of cop.” 

Gloria doesn’t miss a beat. “It looks like a power dynamic. Beto has to look in control. She has to be subservient.”

Silence.

Great. 

“He’s going to test you,” she continues. “Separate you. Watch how you move. Push for reactions. If you hesitate, if you look like coworkers pretending— he walks.”

“If you’re lucky.” Cri shook his head, “He killed the last agent that tried to infiltrate his ring.”

Nico gestures to the screen. “Well let’s talk mission objective: We need the meet to get his phone. Once we have that, we get the hell out of there. We need the information on his trafficking ring, his contacts, evidence, whatever it takes.”

Beto finally speaks. “And if this escalates?” He sounded hesitant, “We’ve all read the file. The previous female agents were forced into performing for him. We’re not putting Y/N in that position.” 

You swallowed thickly and took a deep breath fighting down the nerves. 

Gloria meets his gaze evenly. “Then your cover has to hold.”

Her eyes flick briefly to you, then back to him.

“You have to look like you’re sleeping together. He won’t ask you to prove anything if it’s believable.”

Beto exhales slowly, controlled. “I don’t like this.” He was right. It was treading a little too close to the line.

“No,” Nico says quietly. “But you can do it. And you’ll keep each other safe. We’ll be in-n-out as quickly as possible. It should never escalate to that point anyways.”

The room goes still as the weight of it settles in of what they’re facing.

Gloria taps her tablet once decisively. “We’ll rehearse. We'll rehearse until it looks effortless. Because once you’re inside, there’s no room for mistakes. We have to be perfect.”

Her gaze sharpens, something knowing in it already.

“Mercer won’t fall for bullshit,” she says. “He wants a supplier. He needs to think Beto owns her. She needs to reflect a perfectly trained escort.”

She steps back, folding her arms.

“So,” Gloria finishes, “let’s see how well you two pretend.”

~

The safehouse is uncomfortably quiet. Camila helped you into your cover outfit to practice in and get a feel for. A slutty two piece top and mini skirt. The heels brought you up to Beto’s shoulder height, perfect for your little fake dynamic. 

It wasn’t the first time you wore a disguise similar to this, but it was the first time you felt truly exposed. 

Beto refused to look at you making your entire body thrum with anticipation. 

He’s been reluctant this entire time, clearly dealing with some deep morality issues. 

A single lamp is on, casting long shadows across the bare walls. The windows are covered. The furniture is sparse. Just a coffee table, some couches, and too much empty space in the middle of the room. The only thing of clutter was all of the team’s surveillance equipment and Camila’s computers. 

“Stand there,” Gloria says, pointing to the center.

You clear your throat and lift from your perch on the couch’s arm rest. Taking a moment to find your persona. You step into the light, sauntering into character. You allowed yourself to loose your cop like stiffness and lean into your delicate femininity. Your hips swayed and your ankles crisscrossed like a lithe cat making Beto swallow nervously as you sashayed closer.

Beto stays where he is, near the wall. Arms crossed. Posture guarded. Like he’s bracing for impact.

Nico watches him for a moment before speaking. “That won’t work.”

Beto looks up like a kicked puppy. “I haven’t done anything yet.”

“Exactly,” Nico replies rolling his eyes.

Gloria circles slowly, eyes sharp. “Mercer won’t believe in a men who hesitates. He’ll believe in a man who already assumes obedience from others. He’ll be looking for your dominance.”

She stops in front of Beto. “You’re acting like a cop.”

Beto exhales through his nose. “I’m not acting—”

“You’re apologizing with your body,” she cuts in. “Your shoulders are pulled back. You’re giving her space. You look tense.” 

You keep your face neutral, even as heat crawls up your neck. You don’t look at Beto. You know if you do, you’ll give yourself away. Instead you focus on keeping your eyes cast down demurely and seductively in character.

Gloria gestures. “Close the distance.”

Beto doesn’t move.

Nico steps in instead to demonstrate. He confidently puffs out his chest, bringing a hand up to cup your face directing you to face him. You looked at him through your lashes as he guided you dominantly to the lone chair in the center of the room. You followed his lead never taking your gaze off of him as he forced you to sit on the chair. The energy was heavy. You’ve never seen this side of Nico before. You didn’t know he had it in him. He made it very easy for you as he took the lead. When he took his hand off of your jaw, you both turned to look at Gloria and Beto as they watched slightly mesmerized. 

He was proving how to use his masculinity to effortlessly guide your feminine energy. It didn’t take much. Just a gentle guide.

Beto’s jaw tightens and his lip scowls, “Since when is Nico a fucking Casanova?” 

“Beto.” Gloria says tilting her head towards you.

He takes a tentative step. Then another. Peeling himself from the wall. You stand up again sauntering, waiting for his touch. 

He stops just short of you, like he’s hit an invisible wall. He can’t seem to bring himself to do it.

Beto swallows clearly fighting himself.

“What is happening Beto?” Gloria put her hands on her hips, “You two have been fake couples before on missions. Why is this so hard for you?” 

He just shakes his head, “I-I don’t know.” He stared past you, “I can’t shake that this isn’t going to end well.” 

“Because of the other agents?” Nico asked. 

“I’ve seen those files. What he did to those agents—“ Beto’s lips pursed, “I can’t do that to my partner.” 

Hearing him say it like that. So final, so protective. Made something in your chest tighten in a way you couldn’t explain without letting your professionalism slip.

You feel it then—the way the room shifts. The air thickens. You keep your breathing steady, even as your pulse ticks faster. God you wanted him to touch you. You wanted him to protect you in that primal way. 

Nico just watches as Gloria approaches the two of you. “You have to touch her.” Gloria walks up behind you pressing to your back. You instinctively melted into his as you felt her hands rest on your hips, “Y/N knows what’s at stake.” Gloria leaves forwards and you tilt your head to the side in a way that would entice anyone. She dove into the crook of your neck and moved her hands experimentally up your sides until they brushed over your clothes tits, “She’s done this before.” You and Gloria looked directly at Beto watching him shift his weight.

You caught the way his composure faltered—jaw tightening, breath shifting—and the realization that you’d done that sent an indulgent spark of satisfaction straight through you.

He had his tongue in his cheek watching the two of you melded into one. It looked too natural. Both of your acting skills were impeccable. He watched her take control of you and you morph into something submissive and unfamiliar, “Y/N won’t mess up.” She kissed your neck and you just opened up for more grinding back into her. If Beto didn’t know any better he would have assumed you were both lovers, “Don’t fumble the ball—and she won’t end up in those files.” You both stopped abruptly making both Beto and Nico clear their throats from the manufactured tension. 

You watched with piqued interest as he quickly forced himself to focus. 

“Hand,” Gloria says.

Beto lifts his hand like it weighs too much.

She places it at your waist. He sighs knowing they don’t have another option. Nico was right. You both were the most qualified. You both fit the roles you needed to play. Clearly you were alright with this… 

Beto wasn’t sure what to do with his other hand… That didn’t stop the stomach flip, but you keep your expression calm. Professional. You don’t flinch under his warmth.

“That,” Nico says flatly, “is not ownership.”

Gloria reaches out and physically adjusts his grip—firm, decisive. “Here,” she says. “Not tentative. Like you expect her to react to your touch. Y/N won’t bite.”

Beto’s fingers tense. You feel the change immediately and the years of strength behind them.

He looks at his hand like it doesn’t belong to him.

“I don’t think this is the right way to go about this.” Nico s cut in. 

Gloria just shot him an amused look, “Oh yeah? What do you have planned Casanova.” 

“I just think Beto’s too in his head. Y/N’s a coworker in his eyes. His partner. It’s too formal.” He looked at the two of you—“Y/N… kiss him.”

Beto nearly barked out a protest, but you agreed with Nico. Before he could flee, you grabbed his wrists and yanked him forwards so you could stand up on your tiptoes to press your mouth to his. He froze immediately. But you pushed on, you just wrapped your arms around his shoulders urging him into you giving him no space to run.

It was only a mere moment before Beto finally began to melt into the kiss. He finally allowed the tension and awkwardness leave his body before he wrapped himself around you making your entire being ignite with wanton flames. 

Damn. 

You slowly pulled away returning to your normal height, keeping your seductive eyes trained on him. He took a half second to open his eyes and catching his breath realizing what you had just done. 

Nico just gave a low whistle, “See?” 

The two of you gazed at each other for another precious moment as you both basked in the post kiss glow. However — the spell was broken when the front door slammed open with Archie, Cri, and Camila returning with lunch in hand. 

Beto forced himself back giving the two of you space to catch your breath. 

“Did we miss something?” Cri asked whipping out the tacos. 

~

“Beto, we need to be comfortable with each other.” You currently stood between his legs as he nearly coward away from your look. 

“You’re acting like she bites bro.” Archie giggled with Cri. 

Beto looks at you, “I’m plenty comfortable.” He looked around the room to the others, “This is just awkward.” 

“We’ve played couples before. I even taught you how to magic mike.” You smirked remembering the bachelorette party. 

He sighed and rubbed his eyes, “I-I know— this is just… different.” 

“Just do what feels right.” You leaned forwards caging him in, then you placed a knee on the couch cushion at the juncture of his legs. He sucked in a nervous breath. You couldn’t help the little smile that quirked on your lips before you swung your other leg to his side, before the other mirrored. You completely straddled him and settled down on his hips. 

“Aye man we’ve seen you at the bars.” Cri teased, “We know you can seduce all the women.” 

You couldn’t help but feel a ping of jealousy, but you shoved it away. You were currently planted on the mans lap… 

Beto settled his hands on your hips urging you even closer. You placed your hands on his bulky shoulders and braced as he slid you as close as possible. 

“Okay. Mercer needs to see that you have control.” Nico said, “In the past the other agents didn’t look natural, they hesitated. They also didn’t quite fit the descriptions. Y/N will only be able to carry a small pistol under her skirt or else they’ll see. And Beto—“ He pulled out the narco gun, “Toma. La pistola del pendejo.” He smirks. “Narco estándar. Mucho oro, poco gusto.”

Beto laughed. 

“My favorite one.” Cri sighed longingly. 

Nico set the gaudy weapon down, “So don’t pull her skirt up too much… they can’t see she’s armed.” 

“I’d keep her perched on one leg if you can.” Camila said pointing out the obvious, “Skirts like that don’t stay… and Beto would currently have a pistol pointed right at his—“ he gestured to his crotch. 

You looked down… true.

Beto effortlessly picked you up and readjusted you to sit on his one leg. 

“Manspread more.” Gloria waved at the two of you. 

You and Beto adjusted. He relaxed into the couch keeping a territorial arm around your middle, effectively holding you to him as he took up space on the couch. 

She nodded, “Better. Now you actually look like a douche.”

“And me?” You asked, “What kind of woman does Mercer prefer?” 

“From what we can tell—“ Archie pilled out the file, “expensive.”

Cri gobbled down a taco, “He has a taste for expensive prostitutes. He also seems to get off on sleeping with other men’s women.” He held up a group of images showing surveillance of him sleeping with women who were in relationships with his friends. 

“So not the shy and meek.” You confirmed leaning against Beto. 

“No.” Gloria said, “I’d stay quiet, but look him in the eye. Defer to Beto and let him do all the talking.” 

You nodded in agreement.

Nico stepped forward, “I think we need to practice the entrance agin. From the top.” 

Beto sighed and squeezed your sides.

You stood up adjusting our skirt, “Can I practice with the pistol?” 

Gloria scooted to the side of the table to retrieve the tiny gun. 

Definitely not your normal Glock. 

You leave Beto behind as you walk over to the girls. Camila hands you the thigh holster. You unceremoniously lifted your heeled foot and placed it on the chair as you stepped into the single thigh band. 

Cri let out a low whistle watching as you slid it up as high as it could go on your thigh. 

You threw him a playful wink as you took the concealed weapon from Gloria and tucked it into the secure pocket. 

“Like a bond girl, eh?” Cri elbowed Archie who just nodded. 

“It feels a little weird but it will work.” You stood up right, “I just want to make sure my walk doesn’t look weird.” You skipped over to Nico then began to pace across the room. 

Gloria nodded, “Looks good.” 

“You wouldn’t even know.” Archie said watching as you cat-walked back and forth letting the holstered weapon move with you. 

“So what happens if we’re separated.” Beto asked watching you study your walk in the mirror, “You all need to swoop in fast because I’m not letting something happen to her.” 

Your pulse quickened at Beto’s tone, his hesitancy was based in some gut feeling he has, you could see that now.

Nico exchanged a quick glance with Gloria. 

“If something happens we’ll be right there. Archie and Cri will be posing as waiters. Camila will be watching cams, and Gloria and I will be near by posing as a client and another one of Rafa’s girls.” 

Beto nodded. 

“Can you pull this off?” Gloria’s tone became gravely serious, “Because this is all going to be dependent on you. You have to make him believe. Then Nico and I will grab his phone.”

Beto nodded, “I can do it.” 

It was settled. 

Tonight, you were going into the lion’s den.

~

The elevator door dings and you adjust your mini skirt one last time feeling your heart begin to race. 

The diamond choker around your neck suddenly felt suffocating as Beto slid his hand to your lower back possessively. 

The doors slid open and the heady music drifted into the lift followed by warm lights and the sound of people laughing and chatting. 

Beto guided you out of the elevator, stepping forwards before you do. He was dressed well. A fitted white button down, sleek suit jacket, and a pair of slacks that hugged his ass just right. If the situation wasn’t so dire, you would have taken the time to admire him. 

He walked forwards, not hurried, or hesitant, but like he belongs there. He must have locked in because his acting was even better than after the hours of rehearsals. You felt a wave of male dominance you were unfamiliar with and it made your skin warm. 

His touch was firm enough to anchor you and definitely passed as habit. You let yourself fall half a step behind him and into his side, just enough to sell the fake dynamic. You clung to his arm letting him guide you. 

Gloria and Nick peel off to the side seamlessly. Gloria was posing as one of Beto’s other girls. She paired up with Nico who posed as an eager client. Gloria looks different tonight—her hair styled, short dress, expression unreadable. She slips her arm through Nico’s, posture relaxed, eyes lowered in a way that reads obedient to anyone who doesn’t know her. To anyone watching, she belongs to Beto too.

Cri and Archie were already inside posing as waiters and extra eyes. 

Beto leans in, voice low. “Remember,” he murmurs, not looking at you. “I lead.”

You nod once. “I follow.”

The words are for the cover. The steadiness is for him. You could tell he was a little nervous but to a stranger you wouldn’t know. 

A selfish part of you wished you’d be able to experience this outside of a mission cover. You honestly enjoyed being on his arm, it was nice, and comforting. 

You two make your way over to the bar where Beto cages you in. He orders drinks for both of you, no doubt catching the curious glare of the one and only Daniel Mercer. 

He perched himself on the couch surrounded by a small harem of women no doubt trafficked under him. He laughed with various groups of men who were happy to try out his merchandise. Meanwhile. Beto took your chin and angled you up to look at him. You fought to breathe despite your training. Beto’s deep brown eyes warmed your core as just blinked softly down at you.

From a distance it looked like he was instructing you, but he spoke softly, “Did you spot him?” 

You nodded and cast your eyes down to his lips, “He’s on the couch. Many suspected victims with him.” 

Beto nodded and released your chin. He then looked to Gloria, giving her a command with his hand that appeared like he was urging her to service the client. But really it was code for the target confirmed. 

Your heart raced. This was always the part of the missions that made you vibrate with excitement. 

Once you both had your drinks in hand, you straightened Beto’s tie like a lover would as he scanned the room. Once he made eye contact with Mercer and tipped his cup in his direction, Beto guided you both over to some empty couches. He sat down and you obediently plopped yourself down into his lap, leaning against him and nuzzling into his neck adoringly. You caught the way Beto’s throat bobbed from the action making you buzz.  

He instinctively manspread just like Gloria had instructed and pressed his lips to your temple.

He ran a possessive hand up from your knee, to your thigh, and then settling on the inner v of your legs. His finger tips just barely brushing against your concealed holster. Your entire body was on fire now. His calloused hands were addicting you could barely focus on the task at hand. 

It took everything in your body to fight back the shiver of excitement as he settled into the couch sipping his drink and enjoying the ambiance. 

Archie made his way over with a server tray offering the two of you more drinks and snacks which you politely declined but acknowledged his presence. 

You unconsciously wiggled in Beto’s lap, adjusting your seat, and wrappedyour arm around him feeling him suddenly freeze and halt your hips. 

You froze up wondering if you had done something wrong. 

Your racing thoughts were interrupted as your target abruptly interrupted you two. 

“You Rafa?” 

Beto raised a challenging brow and stared Daniel Mercer down. 

“Daniel.” He stood up straight, “I sent your invite.” 

Beto gave your ass a little tap, urging you to stand. He too stood up to shake Daniel’s hand. 

You rolled your eyes and fixed your outfit acting annoyed with your handler. 

Daniel’s piercing eyes then went to you. Dangerous. Predatory. 

“And you brought product?” His smile was wolfish. Clearly he was interested. You wanted to snarl at him but you bit your tongue and just looked to Beto, “I hear you train them well. Best whores in Tijuana.” Daniel went to stroke your hair like a pet but Beto stopped him.

Beto snaked a possessive arm around you tucking you into his side. 

“This one’s mine.” He nodded in Gloria’s direction who was perched on Nico’s lap twirling his hair and giggling like a stupid school girl, “But I never show up empty handed. I hear you’re the one I’m supposed to meet to discuss expanding both of our enterprises.” 

You couldn’t even focus on the conversation with Beto’s bruising grip holding you flush to his body. You slipped your hands into his lapels keeping your back to Mercer. 

“I believe that would be correct.” He seemed a little peeved he couldn’t get his hands on you. Like a child banned from the cookie jar. You had no delusions, he was clearly planning something. 

Daniel’s smile doesn’t fade, but something sharpens behind it. 

“Expanding enterprises,” he repeats, like he’s tasting the phrase. “I like men who think big.”

His gaze drifts back to you anyway. He shamelessly looks at your ass framed by the black mini skirt.

Too slow. Too deliberate. It made your skin crawl, but the safety Beto offered kept you from lashing out. 

“You keep her close,” Daniel says curiously. “That usually means one of two things.”

Beto’s arm tightens around you—just enough to be unmistakable.

“It means I don’t like people touching what’s mine.” Beto’s growl made you shiver. You’ve never heard him like this before. You were certain he could feel your racing pulse through his clothes.

Daniel hums, amused. “Protective. That’s good. But I’ll be needed to see what I’m investing in.”

He gestures toward the side room you noticed earlier—the one half-hidden by smoked glass, the light inside dimmer, quieter.

“Come,” Daniel says. “I don’t do business in the open. Too many eyes.”

Beto doesn’t move right away.

You feel it before you see it—the subtle shift in him, the way his body angles between you and Daniel as if by instinct. He couldn’t help but shake the law enforcement out of him. Then he looks down at you, expression unreadable, voice low enough that only you hear.

“Stay with me,” he murmurs, “If this gets out of line we’re bailing.” 

It isn’t a command. It’s a promise.

The side room is smaller than the main floor, intimate in a way that feels intentional. A couch sits against one wall, leather worn smooth. A low table. No windows.

And cameras. Specifically hidden to an untrained eye. But no doubt Beto noticed them the second you did. 

You spot them immediately—small, recessed, watching from opposite corners. It could capture every detail in this room.

Daniel follows your line of sight and smiles wider.

“Don’t worry,” he says. “They’re for my protection.”

The door shuts behind you with a soft, final click.

Daniel doesn’t sit. He leans against the wall instead, arms crossed, attention fixed squarely on the two of you.

“People can sell anything,” he says. “I prefer to see what I’m buying first hand.”

Pervert.

You knew Beto was flitting through the file images in this very moment. All those female agents on their knees, guns to their heads serving Daniel.

His eyes flick to you. “Sit.”

You don’t move.

Beto does.

He steps forward, steering you with a firm hand to the shoulder until you’re standing directly in front of the couch. His grip never hurts, but it leaves no question. He sits first, spreading his legs slightly, posture relaxed in a way that feels practiced now. You stand between his legs never keeping your eyes off of him. 

“Go on,” Daniel says lightly. “Show me.” He liked seeing how trained you were. He wanted to watch how well Rafa has broken you in.

Your pulse roars in your ears. Now you have to preform. 

You hesitate just long enough to make it look natural—then you climb onto Beto’s lap, settling sideways, one leg draped over his thigh. You feel him tense beneath you, a sharp intake of breath he can’t quite hide.

Then Nico’s quiet voice crackled through your coms, “We can’t find his phone. Keep him busy a little longer.” 

Your arms slide around his shoulders, fingers brushing his collarbone. You keep your face calm, unreadable, even as your nerves light up every inch of skin. You can’t help it. You’ve had too many day dreams about moments just like this. You just wished it had been under different circumstances. 

Beto’s hand comes to your hip automatically.

Then it stops.

His fingers dig in suddenly, halting your movement completely.

You still.

For a split second, panic flares—did I do something wrong? You look at him nervously.

Daniel chuckles softly, “Guess some don’t like an audience.”

You realized Beto was staring at Daniel directly like he was territorial. You could feel every muscle in Beto’s body gearing up for a fight. Like the tension was going to snap and he’d launch himself across the room.

“She does what I tell her to do.” Beto snarled curling his fingers into the fabric of your top. 

The words are flat. Controlled.

But his thumb rubs little circled against your hip—subtle, grounding. I’ve got you. But it just serves to weaken your resolve. You give him one last look knowing there was no way around this. Daniel wants to see what you can do.

Daniel’s gaze sharpens. “Then let’s see how well she listens.”

He steps closer. Too close.

“Don’t mind if I watch,” Daniel says. “I like to know what I’m buying into since you won’t let me taste her myself.”

Beto’s jaw tightens. “Look all you want.”

Daniel tilts his head. “But?”

“But you don’t touch.”

The room goes still. Beto gives you a stern look only you know what it means. He’s asking for permission one last time which you grant with a soft smile.

Daniel studies him, measuring. Then he smiles again—slow, predatory.

“Fair enough.”

He gestures lazily toward the cameras. “Kiss her.”

The command lands heavy.

Beto’s breath shifts beneath you. You feel the conflict ripple through him—instinct warring with necessity. His hand tightens at your back, pulling you closer, shielding you even as he performs. You straddle him, settling down against his crotch where you melded into him. His hands then go to your arm and neck where he draws you in. You close your eyes and arch your back seductively putting on a show for Daniel. 

Beto leans in.

The kiss is brief at first—controlled, practiced. Beto exhales through his nose.

He adjusts his grip, one hand sliding higher, anchoring you firmly against him. When he kisses you again, it’s slower. Deeper. Not indulgent—but convincing. However from the outside, it seemed heated.

Your thoughts scatter. You keep your movements minimal, compliant, letting him lead, trusting him completely.

Daniel watches. Closely. You couldn’t help but indulge in some light grinding not caring if your skirt rode up flashing Daniel, the gun was still concealed. 

When Beto finally pulls back, he doesn’t release you. His arm stays locked around you, possession written into every line of his posture as he studies your flushed face. He can help but run a thumb over your kiss swollen lip. 

Daniel nods, satisfied—for now.

“Good,” he says. “Very good.”

He straightens, already turning away. “I want to see how well you’ve trained her and since you won’t let me sample, I’ll leave the demonstration to you.”

As he reaches the door, he pauses.

“You pull some shit—” Daniel adds casually. “I’ll know.”

His eyes flick back to you.

“I only do business with the best.” 

The door opens.

Beto doesn’t move until it closes again.

Only then does he lower his voice, barely audible against your ear.

“You okay?”

You nod, breath shaky but steady. “Yeah.”

His hold loosens—just a fraction. Enough to give you space without letting go.

He murmurs. “I don’t think we’re getting out of this one. Nico needs more time, and you know they’re armed to the teeth out there.”

Beto just stared at the cameras keep watching.

~

You knew in that moment you were going to have to take over. 

You knew Beto wouldn’t be able to mentally cope with this one. He’s gong to feel too damn guilty. He was your partner. Your twin in law enforcement. You knew him better than anyone. 

But he was still going to have to play his part. 

You sighed. 

Then you locked in. 

Grabbing his chain, you yanked him closer into your mouth smushing your lips up against his. 

Then you ground down on him, much, much harder this time. Communicating your point.

You kept in rhythm with the thrumming music outside this little room pouring in from the penthouse. 

Running your hands through his hair and giving him a slight tug, you briefly, just for a tiny moment, felt him completely relax into you. He couldn’t help it. He’s still a man. 

You smiled into the kiss biting his lip slightly, before parting from his lips to trail little wet kisses down his cheek to his neck. You swerved your hips once again encouraging his hands to slide down your back and grip your round plush ass. He leaned back making it easier for you as you continued your little performance. You sucked a mark into his neck before running your nose playfully over the shell of his ear. His skin immediately goosed. 

You whispered very subtly, “We have to see this through. They didn’t get the phone yet. You’re going to have to fuck me.” 

The spell was suddenly broken. 

Beto snapped back to his senses and pushed you back looking you deep in the eyes. 

Knowing you were still being watched, he continued on by lifting the two of you and slamming you over on your back into the plush leather couch. He crowded over you shielding you from the cameras as he now took his turn to whisper in your ear. 

“Y/N…” he sighed, “I-I c-can’t.” 

You nuzzled his ear, running your nails down his back scratching over the starched button down. 

“You have to.” You sighed, “W-what? Got a girlfriend I don’t know about?” 

He huffed into your hair grabbing your neck, “No.” He said definitively.  

You spread your legs allowing him to slot himself between your legs to grind back against you. You sucked in a breath. 

Fuck. 

He was hard. 

His massive length was pushing against the taught fabric of his pants making you instantly heat. 

“Rafa!…” You whined. 

He shook his head like he was trying to knock some sense into himself. 

“Fuck.” He breathed just quiet enough for you to hear. 

You squirmed against his possessive choke hold, “Beto please. You have to.” You wrapped your legs around his waist urging him into you, “The others need time and I don’t want to be executed here when our cover is blown.” 

He just pressed more kisses into your skin as you continued, “If you don’t, he’ll make you watch him fuck me before he kills you. Please Beto.” 

“I’m not letting the, see you.” Beto growled a little louder looking up directly at the camera across the room. 

“Beto. Please.” You whispered feeling your panties dampen. Fuck who were you kidding. They were wet the second his lips touched yours. 

Fuck you never thought you’d have Beto like this… hard and turned on, right under your quivering fingertips. 

All for you. 

You did that. 

He was always so respectful of you. He treated you and Camila like sisters. You’d seen him finesse girls at the bars after-hours and sometimes on missions, but he never crossed that line with you. 

You both were professionals. 

Special Agents don’t sleep with one another. 

That is until now…

“You have to.” You pleased, “They’ll kill us if we take much longer.” 

“Are you sure?” He breathed in your scent. 

“Yes,” You sighed. 

“Fuck.” He forced himself back to sit on his haunches. Discreetly, you slid your concealed gun from the holster on your inner thigh and slid the small weapon between the couch cushion so the cameras couldn’t see.

Beto did something similar. Instead, he took out the gold encrusted “costume” gun from the back of his belt and set it obviously on the table next to you both where the camera could see. 

Something happened in that moment. Suddenly ILU Beto was gone and it was just him. Your stomach flipped seeing the heat he was holding back bloom into full effect. You exhaled feeling the energy shift to something heavy. He threaded a hand through his own hair. 

In a matter of seconds. He rushed forwards seizing your lips once again before he scrambled under your skirt like he couldn’t stand the restraint for one more second. He grabbed at the waist bands of your panties before snapping them off and throwing them at the camera. Then you felt him rip open your fish nets leaving a gaping hole at your core. You moaned feeling the adrenaline course through you. You wanted to sit up, to help him, but he just shoved you back down and pulled off his tie. 

You watched as he seductively slid it from his neck and loosened the first few buttons on his shirt.

“Ass up.” He commanded, looking down at you with a heady stare. 

You gave him once last look before obediently flipping over and angling your hips up to put yourself on display for him. Your skirt bunched up around your waist now as he leaned into the back of your thighs. 

You wiggled your ass a little eager for him to grind up against him. Shit. Your body was vibrating with need. You wanted to feel his touch so desperately. 

His intoxicating warmth and sturdiness just mere layers of fabric away.

He undid his belt and unfastened his pants not bothering to remove either of your clothes before he pulled himself from his trousers. He pumped himself to relieve some of the pressure before bringing his hand to your absolutely dripping core. 

He fought back the urge to groan feeling just how turned on you had become. 

“Didn’t know you liked an audience mamita.” He couldn’t help but smirk despite the situation. 

You just grumbled into the couch cushion feeling the burn of embarrassment and lust surge through you. 

He saved you from melting into the cushions when he nudged his fingers through your folds spreading your wetness around and teasing your clit skillfully. You whined and pushed back against him to his absolute joy. 

He shook his head unable to process the fact he currently had you like this, bent over for him and dripping wet. All because of him. 

He was thrilled.

He dripped a finger inside of you testing your tightness. You groaned adjusting to the sensation before he added two more. You ground back against his hand demanding more from him. You could take more. You didn’t need the warm up. 

You need Beto to fuck you. 

“Please Papi Chulo.” 

How could he resist you. 

He surged forwards caging you in as he lined you both up. 

Then he sunk in. 

A wheeze groan was punched out of your body as you felt him absolutely fill you. Fuck. Beto was massive. 

Your body tried its hardest to accommodate him. 

Usually he’d give you time to adjust but he couldn’t show too much empathy for you. Not with this crowd. He’d apologize later. He still had a role to play.

Unceremoniously, he started up a brutal pace. 

You were nearly fucked to the edge of the couch where you braced yourself against the arm of furniture. You pushed back against him wanting him as deep as humanly possible. 

“Fuck Rafa!” You cried out to the room. 

Beto felt you clench down on him making him bow forwards. He braced an hand on the arm too. He intertwined your fingers giving you some semblance of comfort but still maintaining your covers. His other hand reached around your front to squeeze your tit. You couldn’t help the primal cry that bubbled out of you as you arched even more for him. 

That same hand then ventured south. He snaked past your bunched up skirt and went straight to your throbbing swollen clit. 

He moved with purpose. Clearly the man was on a mission and he was treating it as such. 

You hand to bite your hand to keep from screaming. The pure pleasure soaring through your entire— strung out —body made you twitch and writhe as Beto brought you closer and closer to that sweet release. 

“Please Beto.” You moaned and curled back into him needing him as deep as possible. 

“Go on baby.” He kissed your head, “Come for me, mamita.” 

Thats all you needed. 

His sturdy thrusts and circling touch threw you over the edge into mind numbing pleasure. You cried out and clawed at the leathers forcing him to release you and lean upright to grab your hips. He continued to fuck you, bringing himself closer to release. 

You cried and whined out from overstimulation feeling yourself start to loose your focus. 

The moment was abruptly ruined as armed men kicked open the door with Daniel in hot pursuit. 

Beto quickly pulled out of you, making you wince, and zipped his pants back up to grab his gun. 

“Ah! Ah! Ah!” Daniel tutted causing Beto to tense, “Having a good time… Beto?” 

Fuck. 

You were blown. You slipped up. 

You slowly sat up on your haunches tucking yourself into Beto’s front, essentially acting as a human shield to all of the weapons trained on your partner. 

“Daniel you’re under arrest for human trafficking and prostitution.” Beto said training his weapon steadily on Mercer. 

Daniel just cackled completely amused by the sudden change in Beto’s demeanor. 

“Oh please. You really think I care?” Daniel looked around the room, “You’re out numbered. I’ll make sure to take real good care of your girl after I kill you.” 

Slowly, you snuck your hand down Beto’s side and in-between the couch cushions to grip your gun. 

“You’re not the first cop I’ve killed.” Daniel said waving his gun around, “But… I’m willing to make a deal with you. Man to man.” He eyed you wolfishly. The man was on at the hunt. And he was hungry. 

“Fuck off.” Beto said wrapping an arm around your middle, keeping you closer to him. 

“Now that I know your little partner can fuck… I’ll tell you what.” He pocketed his gun, “I’ll let you live if you hand her over to me. Clearly she knows what she’s doing and I’m eager for a turn.” 

You snarled at him wanting to take his head off his shoulders. 

“Like I said earlier.” Beto tightened his trigger finger, “She’s mine.” 

Daniel nodded disappointed, “Your funerals.” 

As if Beto’s wildest dream came true, Daniel Mercer suddenly dropped dead. 

His blood sprayed all over the two of you as Archie and Cri came storming in with Nico and Gloria hot on their tales. 

Daniel Mercar had been shot point blank in the head and his body crumpled to the ground in a giant heap.

Beto wasted no time throwing the both of you down to the ground and knocking the table over to give you both cover as the bullets started to fly. 

You braced for a moment against Beto as he returned fire. He ducked down behind the mahogany as a rogue spray of bullets nearly hit him.

You squeezed his belt, holding onto it like a life line while you scrambled to get your gun loaded.

Daniel’s men suddenly scattered like bugs. 

“Beto!” Nico yelled, “Move!” They had finally carved out an opening for you to escape.

They covered you both as you stood up and ran following Cri and the others out of there. You clung desperately to Beto as he kept you both steady with an arm under yours. Your legs had turned to jelly a long time ago as you stumbled in your heels after Gloria. 

“What the fuck happened?!” Archie yelled clearing the hallway to the elevator. 

You were interrupted when another round of bullets blew holes in the walls just next to Nico’s head. 

Beto pined you between him and the alcove before the elevator as he provided everyone cover fire. He hit a couple shooters giving you all an opening. 

Without another moment of hesitation. You squeezed forwards to hail the elevator. 

“You have incoming, south hallway.” Cami’s voice said through the coms. She must have hacked into the cameras. 

Cri randomly fired down the hallway trying to discourage them from pursuing. 

You all stood around the elevator weapons at the ready. 

When you heard the ding. 

You turned first, grabbing Beto and guiding him backwards by the belt as he was the last inside the lift. 

Once those doors closed, you all finally had a moment to gather yourselves in the awards silence. 

You and Beto kept your eyes on the elevator doors ignoring the others as they observed the two of you carefully. 

It was obvious what had happened. And they couldn’t help but stare.

There hadn't been an option to bail. You both did what you had to do. Temu’s words echoed in your head. Bird of a feather you surmised. 

The others however, weren’t quite sure how to handle this. 

You broke the silence, “Someone tell me you got the fucking phone.” 

Nico nodded and Gloria held up the device.

You nodded, “Bien.” 

The lift came to a stop and the doors opened unceremoniously. You were met with Camila’s doe eyes and her tablet as she guided you all to the van waiting for your quick escape. 

You all huddled into the car and sped off wanting nothing more than to get back to base to debrief. You wouldn’t feel like you had accomplished anything until you were certain you every single bit of inner circle information from that damn monster. 

In the rocking of the car, and the near deadly silence everyone was in, you could feel the soreness and the pulsing still in your abused cunt. Beto had absolutely railed you seven ways to Sunday and frankly you ached for more. 

You could only imagine what he was feeling. He kept his stern glare on the road from the passenger seat leaving you to haze at his profile from the back. 

Camila seemed to notice and went for your hand. She wrapped it in hers and smiled sweetly while also keeping her eyes on the road. 

You sighed, forcing the tension from your body and willing away the throbbing in your core. 

It was just a job. 

You had to fuck him to survive. 

And you did. 

You both survived. 

You did what had to be done. 

~

Beto is standing near the office window, back to you,  now fully dressed in his work clothes. You both had showered at the station and had gotten cleaned up. The others watched with baited anticipation as you chucked your towel on your office chair and stalked into Temu’s old office to talk with Beto.

They knew you both needed to figure this out. You were all a team. A well oiled one. This mission cannot fuck it up. 

Beto’s hands are braced on the sill like he’s holding himself in place.

You watch him for a moment before entering the glass office and speaking.

“Hey.” You said softly. 

He doesn’t turn around.

“I shouldn’t have let it go that far,” he says quietly. Still unable to face you. You guessed from shame.

His words are flat, rehearsed. Like he’s been saying them to himself for hours. Honestly, he probably had.

“You didn’t let anything happen,” you reply. “We didn’t have a choice. We survived.”

You suddenly got hit with a wave of guilt for begging him. He probably thought it was all for the cover, and that he took advantage of you in some way. You were the one who was encouraging them the entire time. You seemed to have absorbed some of his guilt. 

He finally turns. His expression is controlled, but his eyes give him away—dark, tired, heavy with the kind of guilt that doesn’t resolve easily.

“I crossed a line,” he continues, lowering his gaze. “I knew I was crossing it. And I told myself it was for the job. For your safety.” His jaw tightens. “But that doesn’t erase it. I-I’m sorry Y/N.”

You straighten up and cross your arms.

“Beto,” you say gently. “Look at me.”

He hesitates—then does.

“You checked in,” you remind him. “Every time it mattered. You protected me even when it made the cover harder. You saved me. We both know what he would have done to me if you hadn’t”

His shoulders sag just slightly. “That was my job.”

“No,” you say. “That was you.”

You stand and close the distance between you. He doesn’t step back, but he doesn’t reach for you either—like he’s afraid he’s already taken too much.

“I don’t feel used,” you tell him quietly. “I don’t feel trapped. I don’t regret it.” That felt like a bit of lie but you continued, “I asked you to. Many times.”

His breath catches at that.

“I regret it,” he admits and your heart absolutely sinks. Teetering on full blown heart break. “Because I don’t know where the line is anymore. And I don’t want you thinking I ever confused obligation with—” 

He continued on, but your guilt was becoming all encompassing.

He stops himself.

“With what?” you ask softly needed to hear him out. You watched him fidget nervously. 

He looks at you then, really looks at you, like he’s weighing whether honesty will hurt more than silence. He’s hesitating.

“With wanting you.”

The room feels smaller somehow. The glass closing in on the two of you.

You don’t rush to answer. You let the moment settle. Your body thrummed with delight. Beto likes you? You wanted to giggle and settled for a sly smirk. You chewed your lip and gazes up at him as he studied you.

“I wanted you too,” you say finally. “That doesn’t mean the circumstances didn’t matter. They did. But it doesn’t change what I felt.” The admission felt freeing.

He shakes his head once, frustrated. “I was supposed to keep this clean. We’re supposed to be professionals. A team.”

You smile faintly, “We’re still all of those things.”

That earns the smallest, helpless huff of breath from him.

“I never want to put you in a position like that again,” he says. “Never.”

“I know,” you reply. “That’s why I trusted you.”

Your words warmed his cheeks.

He swallows. “And now?”

You step closer, close enough that he can’t pretend that things haven’t changed between the two of you.

“Now,” you say, “we get to choose. No cameras. No cover. No one watching.”

He searches your face, cautious. Hopeful. Afraid.

“And if I say I don’t want to pretend to be professional anymore?” he asks.

You reach out, resting your hand lightly over his chest—right where you can feel his heartbeat, steady and real.

“Then I’d say… good,” you murmur. “Because neither do I.”

He closes his eyes for a brief second, like he’s letting something unclench inside him.

“Bien,” he exhales. “Entonces… despacio.”

Slowly.

When he finally pulls you into his arms, it’s not possessive. Not forced. Just careful and sure and entirely his choice. You wrap your arms around his middle letting your face rest against his steady heart beat.