#bodyguard

Meanwhile, Bodyguard!Simon Riley couldn’t take his eyes off you. He had never been more grateful for his mask and poker face, even though he was still worried you could see the blush on his cheeks. You were just so pretty

Bodyguard!Simon Riley never shirked from his duties (which kinda frustrated you). After you got over the initial scare factor, your privacy was the next thing to go. Whether out with friends, shopping, or even in your own home, he was always there. Definitely annoying

Bodyguard!Simon Riley hardly said a word. It was certainly unnerving and you had to get used to the clipped, gravelly responses

Bodyguard!Simon Riley was always vigilant. You didn’t notice how his eyes immediately scanned a room or how he would hover a hand on your back to place himself between the exit or street

Bodyguard!Simon Riley was extremely useful fending off paparazzi and unwanted advancements from men. He would either place his body in front of you and speak to the person in that eerily calm voice of his that brokered no room for argument, or would simply usher you away, his front pressed to your back

Eventually, however, you got used to Bodyguard!Simon Riley. The death threat didn’t follow through and Simon would carry your bags for you or listen to you gossip

Whether it was the forced proximity or not, both you and Bodyguard!Simon Riley began to catch feelings well, Simon had long caught feelings

Bodyguard!Simon Riley referred to you as “my bird” or “the missus” to his coworkers. Johnny and the lot of them thought it was hilarious and teased him relentlessly. His boss, Price, pulled him aside one day and warned him to just be careful

Bodyguard!Simon Riley knew Price was right. It was outrageous for him to dream about it, more so actively try to pursue it. Simon was a rule-following soldier through and through, yet Price never really told him to stop – the older man just discouraged it

Bodyguard!Simon Riley began to subtly change his habits. Whenever you wanted takeout, he would suggest going and sitting down at the restaurant. He would always sit across from you. And even though you had mommy’s credit card, he would pay for one or two of these “dates.” He wouldn’t correct men who asked if you two were dating and maybe he even let the surgical mask slip

Bodyguard!Simon Riley accidentally called you “the missus” in front of you. Keegan called him, asking if he could work on a Saturday. With you in the room, he replied, “nah, there’s a gala me and the missus have to attend.” It just slipped out. You froze, mortified

Bodyguard!Simon Riley tried to backpedal but he was never good with words. Eventually, he just stood there, reverting to the stiff stance he used to use whenever a commanding officer walked past. “Was that a one time thing?” you then asked. “Or do you really call me that?”

Bodyguard!Simon Riley would never lie to you. “It’s instinct at this point,” he muttered

Bodyguard!Simon Riley was sure he was about to be fired when you glanced up at him. “Well, I’m not sure about marriage yet,” you said, “but I… wouldn’t say no to a date. With you as my boyfriend?”

Bodyguard!Simon Riley had thought you were already dating, but he wasn’t going to deny you this. He nodded once, as if receiving orders, and then immediately stepped out to call Price to shove it in his face. He also called a nearby florist to schedule arrangements for the next six months

Your parents didn’t object in the slightest. They thought it was great you were dating Bodyguard!Simon Riley because now they didn’t have to pay him all the time

Bodyguard!Simon Riley just became accustomed to calling you “missus, birdie, lovie.” Like, those were your names now, thank you very much. You actually got worried whenever he called you by your real name, wondering if you were in trouble (you never were, it was just a slip of the tongue)

Bodyguard!Simon Riley eventually introduced you to his coworkers. You soon realised that none of them, other than Price who had handled the employment in the first place, knew your actual name. They just knew you as your nicknames

Bodyguard!Simon Riley had already installed the safest locks and security features in your home, but would triple check them now before “turning off” his bodyguard persona whenever alone with you

Bodyguard!Simon Riley preferred to have dates at home so he could relax. It had become instinct to be on watch with you, so whenever he could truly relax, it was a plus. Of course he still took you out, but he simply preferred at home or open spaces like a park where it was less likely someone would attack you

Bodyguard!Simon Riley liked Disney movies. They reminded him of his childhood. His favourite was Princess and the Frog. He liked Mama Odie

Bodyguard!Simon Riley was scary dog privileges personified. 10/10, truly

Bodyguard!Simon Riley continued to work for 141 Protection, though he took less jobs. He had already made a lot of money with the army and bodyguarding. He’d rather spend more time with you

Bodyguard!Simon Riley did not want any pets. You ended up with two dogs and one hypoallergenic cat. (Simon was allergic, but the cat found its favourite place was his face)

Bodyguard!Simon Riley lived in a little white townhouse with you. Eventually, he wanted to buy a house with you, but that would come later

Bodyguard!Simon Riley didn’t wear his surgical mask anymore

Bodyguard!Simon Riley who snored, but made up for it by kissing you every morning and night to remind you how much he loved you

Demon!Simon Riley part 2 will be coming soon 😤

New York isn’t a great place to be when you’re caught in the middle of a storm. Even less so when it involves things as delicate as money laundering and a few other matters your father never dared to explain. And you didn’t ask. You already knew. Played the good daughter who keeps out of it, because it was enough to unlock your phone and read the first headline you found.

Senator Enzo Vandspell Discloses Alleged International Corruption Network, Prompting Federal Scrutiny

WASHINGTON — Senator Enzo Vandspell, a prominent advocate for anti-corruption measures in Congress, disclosed on Wednesday a series of documents he says point to the existence of a far-reaching network engaged in money laundering and narcotics trafficking, with alleged connections spanning Latin America, Europe, and the United States.

Speaking at a press conference on Capitol Hill, Vandspell stated that the findings stem from an investigation conducted by his office over the course of more than a year. According to the senator, the materials suggest the involvement of business executives, public officials, and financial intermediaries in schemes utilizing shell companies and offshore accounts to obscure substantial sums of illicit funds.

“This is not an isolated matter,” Vandspell said. “What we are seeing reflects a broader pattern of coordinated activity that has persisted for years, enabled in part by systemic gaps in oversight.”

The documents, portions of which were made available to federal authorities, outline mechanisms including the transfer of funds through jurisdictions with limited financial transparency and the use of inflated contracts tied to public infrastructure projects. Vandspell declined to identify specific individuals or entities during the briefing, citing the sensitivity of the information and the potential for ongoing legal proceedings.

A spokesperson for the Department of Justice confirmed receipt of the materials but declined to comment further, noting that it does not discuss potential or ongoing investigations.

Separately, Vandspell’s office reported an increase in security concerns following the disclosure. In a brief statement, staff confirmed that additional protective measures have been implemented in coordination with federal authorities, both in Washington and at the senator’s private residences. Officials have not released further details regarding the nature of the reported threats.

You should be home right now. No, out of New York entirely. But Celine had spent months working toward her gallery opening, and you couldn’t miss it. Not that anyone here particularly cared who you were. No, they cared who your father was. And anyway, you’d heard Leonardo DiCaprio was around somewhere, so the focus wasn’t exactly on you. Or not entirely.

“Miss Vandspell.”

You turned, already knowing the voice. Louis, one of your bodyguards. “Yes?”

“Your car will be here in ten minutes.”

You nodded, offering him a polite smile before shifting your gaze to the man beside him. The other one. Javier. He didn’t react. Not a single muscle in his face moved.

They worked as a team. Synergy, to keep you safe. You didn’t know where Louis had come from, he had simply appeared one day, ten years ago, when your father introduced him and explained that he would be with you from then on. He was serious, rigid, somewhere in his fifties. He’d escorted you to school, stood watch at every dance, always there, even at a distance. And you knew he was your father’s line straight to you. Everything you did, your father knew, courtesy of Louis. Years of living under quiet surveillance, all in the name of your safety.

Javier was different. He showed up a year and a half ago, right when your father’s investigation kicked off. You didn’t know much about him, and you didn’t ask too much, just the basics. You’d seen him working for your father a handful of times, and then one morning he was in your apartment next to Louis, just like that.

Early forties, maybe. Quiet and serious. He gave nothing away about who he really was. Though you had caught it; small signs of impatience, brief looks of weariness more than once when he had to accompany you in public.

His eyes were onyx black, gleaming within a face that gave away absolutely nothing, again. Pure, unadulterated vacancy. And you know what they say about blank spaces; they’re just waiting for you to fill in the blanks with whatever idea suits you best.

A mysterious man whose name you’d pried out of mutual contacts. You had the highlight reel: retired agent, occasional magnet for controversy, and a reliable asset to your father. Strong hands.

The ambiguity fed you in bursts. You told yourself it was only natural, this is what happens when someone is around for more than twelve hours a day, nearly every day. And at the end of it all, you were just a curious woman.

He gave the distinct impression of a man living under heavy restraint. His shoulders were permanently knotted, his brow perpetually furrowed, and there was always something clenched in his jaw. And on rare occasions, you would catch the sound of a weary exhale; sometimes while he stood just outside your hotel room door. In the profound hush of a still night, it carried as clearly as if he were standing right beside you: a heavy, drawn out breath. Even through the wood of the door, his physical tension was palpable.

You knew he had no wife, no children. That was the very first thing you noticed the day you met; your eyes had instinctively found his hand and noted the absence of a ring. Somehow, it fit. Men who did what he did didn’t exactly build lives that stayed still. Not when their job was tailing someone for hours on end, following them from city to city like a shadow with a gun.

Some days your curiosity barely registered. Other days, it itched at you badly enough to make you want to ask questions; about him, his life, who he’d been before all this. But you always caught yourself before you crossed the line. There wasn’t much point asking a man like him anything personal. He wasn’t the type to answer, anyway.

Now, he stepped forward and opened the gallery door for you.

Another thing that had always been part of your life. You grew up with doors opening before you could reach them, cars waiting with engines running, routes mapped out for you; detours decided without your knowledge. Men in suits surrounding you, steadying you, taking you where you wanted to go and where you didn’t.

Your car door was already open when you stepped outside.

“I need to stop by my apartment—”

“Give my regards to your daddy.”

You stopped short. The scream never made it past your throat. One second you were standing there and the next, your whole body was soaked. Your eyes snapped shut, burning instantly. It hit all at once; your mouth, your nose, the back of your throat.

Gasoline.

“Louis—” you choked, hands flying to your face, smearing it away as panic surged. You grabbed the man beside you, fingers digging into his shoulders as he forced you forward.

“Get in the car. Inside. Head down,” he barked. It wasn’t Louis. Javier.

He shoved you toward the car, already moving faster than your mind could catch up. Louis’s voice rang somewhere in the distance: “Go, go!”

Javier pushed you into the backseat, one hand shielding your head as he forced you down. The door slammed shut behind you, sealing you in as he shoved you sideways.

“Vandspell. Now,” he ordered the driver.

You almost argued; told him no, that you had to, that you wanted to go to your apartment, but the words never quite made it out.

Your eyes burned. Your throat, too. It didn’t matter how many times you swallowed or how hard you scrubbed at your face with gasoline-soaked hands, it only made it worse.

“Stay still.”

His hand closed around your jaw, firm enough to keep you in place. You obeyed and a second later, Javier was carefully wiping your face with a towel.

“Who was it?” you asked as he moved the cloth over your eyes, more gently this time. “What did he look like?”

“Louis has him. Don’t worry about that.”

“That’s not what I asked.” Your voice came out sharp. You didn’t feel particularly inclined to be polite. Not now. Not like this.

“A man,” Javier said. “Wearing a balaclava.”

“Where’s Louis?”

It was the second time you’d asked, and the second time Javier ignored you. The first had been in the car, while he drove in absolute silence down the highway, refusing to tell you where the hell you were going, too. The second was now, as he pulled your suitcase from the trunk and started toward the cabin.

“Javier, you have to tell me if he’s okay.”

He stopped just before the short steps leading up to the porch and turned to face you.

“He’s fine. Louis is fine.”

“Is he coming with us?”

“I don’t know.” He turned back around and kept walking. Up the stairs, through the front door; though he didn’t actually step inside. He stayed planted in the doorway and jerked his chin once. “Get in.”

You tightened your grip on your bag strap and hurried after him. Your hair was still messy from the rushed shower you’d taken back at your father’s house, barely towel dried, and your throat still burned faintly from the gasoline you’d swallowed earlier.

Five hours away from Manhattan, your father kept a cabin hidden among the dense timber of the Adirondack Mountains. It was a lush, cold, and hostile wilderness during the winter months, and through all three hundred and sixty five nights of the year. The jagged peaks were hidden from view, masked by the thick treeline surrounding you, and while the mist was thin for now, you knew it would only thicken as the night went on.

You’d been here once before, when you were around ten. Your father had tucked you and your mother away here for a week. You remembered board games, hot chocolate, and men stationed outside with weapons slung over their shoulders. Men who spoke into bulky cellphones or radios that had looked ancient to you back then. Now you understood why; the signal out here was complete shit. Practically nonexistent.

"Drop it, don't touch that," Javier’s voice materialized behind you a split second before he snatched the phone from your hand.

“What are you doing?” You turned to face him.

The two of you stood in the living room, where the windows stretched floor to ceiling, though the gray light outside still left the cabin dim. Javier crossed the room and switched on one of the lamps beside the couch before slipping your phone into his pocket.

Then he stepped toward you.

“You’re not to contact anyone while we’re here. You understand me?”

“How exactly would I do that?” You crossed your arms. “We’re in the middle of nowhere. There’s no signal.”

Javier turned away and headed toward the small open kitchen a few feet off the living room.

“Why don’t you go take a proper shower instead? There’s more stuff for you in the red suitcase. Erica packed it.”

Erica. Your father’s housekeeper.

“You’re still not going to tell me what’s happening?” You followed after him, catching his shoulder with your hand and forcing him to look at you. “You seriously expect to drag me all the way out here, say ten words total and think that’s enough?”

“What else do you need to know?” he asked evenly. “A lunatic doused you in gasoline with a lighter in his hand. He was trying to hurt you.”

“What about my family? Are they safe back there? I told him he should’ve gotten out of New York—”

“They’re not after him.” He moved closer, his eyes locking onto yours. “They’re after you. They want to stop him from exposing whatever he found, and right now, you’re the only leverage they’ve got. You understand?”

“Yes, I do. I’m not stupid.” Your voice sharpened. “They wanted to use me as a threat. Fine. But if that’s the case, why try to kill me on the first shot? Wouldn’t it make more sense to send a warning first?”

Javier’s jaw tightened as he took a step back. Your eyes swept over his face in a flash.

“So now you’re critiquing their methods?” he asked.

“I’m just saying. If they wanted to hurt me, going for it on the first try without even making a threat first feels pretty sloppy,” you said, folding your arms across your chest. “Why’d they do that?”

He gave a faint shake of his head, lips pressing into a thin line. Then he tipped his chin up just slightly.

“Listen, why don’t you go get settled in? I’ll check the property and finish unloading the car.”

“You’re letting me go to my room alone?”

Javier’s eyes flicked toward yours. “For a minute. You’re a big girl, aren’t you? I’m sure you can survive without me for a couple of minutes.”

You hummed softly and took a step back, uncrossing your arms.

“Alright. If I need you, I’ll call,” you said, turning around. “Unless, of course, they gag me first.”

Behind you, you heard him scoff.

From your bedroom window, you could watch night settling in for good. The view from where you stood was limited, but beautiful all the same; a long stretch of trees, and beyond them, just the faintest glimpse of water catching what little light remained. The mountains in the distance were barely visible now, their peaks rising behind the dark canopy of green.

The window was cracked open just enough for cool air to slip inside, fresh against your skin and enough to leave goosebumps trailing down your arms. Your body still held onto the heat from the shower.

You could still smell gasoline, though at this point you figured the scent had burned itself into your nose. You’d scrubbed yourself down with soap over and over again, brushed your teeth at least three times after getting out, then sprayed perfume through your hair before blow-drying it. Thank God Erica had packed one in the red suitcase.

Javier had knocked on the bathroom door ten minutes ago and walked away after you told him everything was fine. No intruder hiding in the shower with you, thankfully.

Now, as you adjusted your clean clothes against your skin and your stomach growled in protest, you glanced down at the watch on your wrist. Eight thirty at night.

You found Javier crouched in front of the fireplace when you came downstairs.

“I’m starving. Is there anything in the fridge?”

You knew he’d stopped at a gas station in the middle of some tiny town on the drive out here. You hadn’t seen what he bought or how much of it, only that he’d walked out carrying a massive box, shoved it into the trunk without explanation, then gone back inside for more.

“Yeah. Check the counter too,” he said.

You turned on your heel and headed where he’d pointed. The cardboard box sat open on the counter: ground coffee, black tea, three different kinds of cookies, protein bars, several packs of pasta, salt, sugar, rye bread, every canned thing imaginable including beans, chickpeas, soups, giant jars of sauce, bags upon bags of beef jerky and mixed nuts, plus fruit like apples and oranges and a decent amount of vegetables. Off to the side sat two massive gallons of mineral water.

“How long are we staying here?” you asked as you moved toward the fridge.

When you opened it, you found trays of meat and four sandwiches wrapped tightly in plastic.

“I don’t know.” His voice sounded closer now; he was walking into the kitchen.

“That’s a lot of food.”

“Better too much than not enough, right?”

Without answering, you reached in and grabbed one of the sandwiches. It was huge. A sticker across the top listed the ingredients.

“Says it was made today. Think that’s actually true?”

You glanced over at him. Javier stepped closer and tilted his head slightly.

“If it’s not rotten, give it a shot.”

You pressed your tongue against the inside of your cheek. You weren’t in the mood to argue about food, and you definitely weren’t in the mood to cook for yourself.

“Want to eat with me?” you asked, leaning toward the fridge again. “Louis always eats with me.”

“I know. I stand by the door while he does, remember?” He crossed his arms, leaning back against the counter. “Nobody’s doing that for me now.”

“We’re in the middle of nowhere,” you said, pulling out another sandwich. “I think you can survive sitting down to eat with me.”

A minute after you dropped into one of the dining chairs, rain began tapping softly against the cabin roof. Outside, the fog had swallowed almost everything whole, turning the world beyond the windows into a blur of silver and black. Darkness stretched endlessly in every direction except for the moonlight; full tonight, huge and bright enough that its pale glow burst through the mist like scattered frost.

Javier (much against his better judgment, you suspected) sat across from you at the other end of the table, holding his brisket and vegetable sandwich with a faint frown as he took a bite.

Carefully, you peeled the lettuce from yours and set it on the wrapper. It smelled incredible; your mouth watered instantly. You took a bite and closed your eyes for a second at the taste.

“Oh my God, this is so good.”

Javier let out a quiet huff of laughter. It was brief and soft. “No lettuce?”

You waited until you swallowed. “Lettuce is the first thing that goes bad. Tomatoes too, but lettuce dies first.”

“It looked fresh enough.”

“I’m not risking it.”

He tilted his head slightly and took another bite.

Between you sat two glasses of water and an open bag of chips. Your gaze drifted through the glass in front of him, catching the warped image of his hand beneath the waterline; fingers distorted as they curled tightly, for some reason, around the handle of the butter knife resting beside his wrapper.

Your eyes traveled upward, past his watch, past the smooth skin of his forearm dusted with fine dark hair.

“Do you have a girl?”

The question came out so bluntly, stripped clean of the usual social cushioning, that he stopped chewing.

Honestly, it surprised you too.

The hand holding your sandwich lowered to the table little by little.

Javier looked at you with an unreadable expression, though you caught the slightest tightening near the corners of his eyes.

“That’s… none of your business.”

“So that’s a no?” Heat crawled into your cheeks. “A man like you—hard to believe you spend all your time alone when you’re not standing behind me.”

His jaw flexed as he chewed. One, two, three, four… five times before swallowing.

“Are you bored?”

You smiled faintly. “I’m asking a question. It’s been a long day, and we’re running out of things to talk about.”

Javier exhaled quietly and glanced toward the kitchen counter behind you.

“I move around too much for that. This kind of job doesn’t exactly leave room for domestic bliss.” His eyes flicked back to yours. “Now finish your sandwich and get some sleep.”

“You’re redirecting,” you pointed out with a small, knowing smile. “Is she in New York? Or back wherever you came from?”

That finally pulled his full attention back to you.

“You’re too curious for your own good, you know that?” he said. “Dangerous habit, sticking your nose into things that don’t concern you.”

“Maybe I am bored,” you teased, lifting one shoulder lightly. Your gaze wandered over the breadth of his shoulders before returning to his face. “Besides, you’ve spent an entire year following me around and learning every detail of my routine. I think I’m entitled to a few answers. Unless the truth’s just painfully boring.”

A crooked, amused smile tugged at his mouth.

“I don’t think you’re entitled to anything.”

Your brows lifted slightly.

“And boring isn’t the word I’d use anyway,” he added.

“Then what is the word?” You tilted your head, hair spilling over your shoulder. “Complicated? Or are you just rusty? I saw the way you looked at that girl at the gala last month — the one who tried to give you her number. Were you about to frisk her?”

Javier leaned forward, eyes narrowing, though there was a flicker of reluctant amusement buried beneath the irritation.

“Maybe she was a security risk.”

You smiled. “She was five two in four inch heels. The only thing she threatened was your peace of mind.” A soft laugh slipped out of you. “Admit it. You’re out of practice.”

A dry sound escaped him, and halfway to a laugh he swallowed it down behind a frown.

“Why don’t we try eating in silence instead, huh? Maybe you’re just hungry. And tired.”

You let the sandwich fall onto its wrapper.

“Don’t do that.”

His eyes locked onto yours.

“Don’t talk to me like I’m a child. I’m not.” You lifted your chin slightly. “I’m used to Louis acting like that because he’s been doing it for a decade, but you’re not Louis.” Your voice stayed even. “And I’m not tired.”

“How?” he asked, and you noticed the defensive edge had left his voice, settling into something quieter. “It’s been a long day. Longer than most. You should be exhausted.”

“I don’t sleep much, and you know that.” You reached for your glass of water. “Besides, it’s too quiet out here.”

You took another bite of your sandwich and ignored the way he kept watching you. His fingers tapped once against the wooden table.

“Well, you’re strangely calm considering what happened today. How are you feeling? Really.”

You swallowed your food. In the privacy of your own head, you thought about the smell of gasoline; the slick, half-thick texture of it soaked into your skin and clothes.

“I’m okay. I mean, my throat still burns a little, and I’ll probably smell gasoline in my sleep for the next week, but I’m okay.”

Javier’s jaw tightened. He looked down at his hands.

“Most people would be scared.”

“Maybe I’ve spent too much time around men like you and my father,” you said with a faint smile. “Eventually you learn how to compartmentalize. Or maybe I just haven’t processed how close it actually was because you were there.” You tilted your head slightly. “Give it a few days. Maybe the shock will catch up to me then.”

“Huh.” His eyes lifted back to yours. “You’re tougher than you look.”

Your ego swelled at that despite yourself.

“You think so?”

“Yeah. I figured that out a while ago.” One corner of his mouth twitched faintly. “That, combined with your invasive questions, makes it pretty hard to see you as some porcelain doll.”

Your fingers curled tighter around your glass, though you didn’t lift it. You kept your eyes fixed on him.

“Is that really what you think I am? A porcelain doll?”

Javier pressed his lips together and stayed perfectly still. His gaze didn’t leave yours.

He didn’t answer.

“You’re wrong,” you continued, leaning a little farther over the table. “Porcelain’s fragile. It cracks the second things get bad. I’ve spent my whole life in houses where the walls have ears and every move is planned before it happens. What other choice did I have?”

“I don’t think you’re made of porcelain,” he said quietly. “Not even close. That’s what I meant. But I've heard people talk about you when I first started working for your dad. That's all.”

You blinked once. “Then what do you think I am?”

You caught the way his eyes almost smiled, completely at odds with the rest of his expression. He was thinking something.

But what?

He lifted his chin slightly and tilted his head.

"You're more like… like the glass they use in those high-rise buildings in the city," he said, holding your eyes. "You know, looks delicate from the street, like you could put a fist through it if you tried. But it's reinforced. It's built to take the pressure of the wind and the heat without cracking." A faint smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth. “You’re not fragile. You’re just used to being handled with gloves.”

The honesty in his voice made you go still. So did the smugness.

Javier looked calm, but the feeling was there in the smallest details; in the flicker of his expression, the confidence sitting quietly beneath every word.

“And what happens if you take the gloves off? Can you do that for me?”

He froze. His dark eyes locked onto your face and moved over it with maddening slowness, never losing intensity. The surprise wasn’t invisible this time. He started studying you with a heaviness that felt almost physical, like being touched.

A muscle jumped in his jaw. His gaze dropped briefly to your hand resting on the table before returning to your eyes. His pupils had blown wide.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he said.

Every trace of professionalism had vanished from his voice.

“Don’t I?”

“Of course not.”

“And how exactly would you know that?” you asked with a smile. “I wasn’t being very subtle, was I?”

Javier tilted his head, studying you a little more carefully now.

“Vandspell,” he said slowly, “what exactly are you trying to say?”

Oh, he could not ask you that while looking at you like that.

You’d spent a year and a half with him at your back, following you everywhere. Of course you’d noticed the way he looked at you sometimes; rare, but obvious when it happened. And maybe it was the aftershock finally kicking in, or maybe today had knocked something loose inside your head, because suddenly you felt very, very capable of saying exactly what you wanted.

What was he going to do? Run?

And honestly, Javier didn’t strike you as the type of man who’d go tattling to your father about your behavior. No; he seemed much more like the type who’d join in.

So, fuck it.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” you said. “I’m curious.”

“Curious about what?”

“You.”

His brows lifted. “Me?”

You nodded.

“What useful thing could you possibly want to know about me?”

“Oh, a few things.”

You leaned farther onto the table. He swallowed.

“You know, I looked into you a little when my father first hired you.” You tilted your head. “Almost everything I found was about your professional life. That was disappointing.”

“My professional life disappointed you?”

“No. Not being able to find out anything about your personal life disappointed me.”

A quiet huff of laughter escaped him. “What could you possibly want to know about me? Let me ask again.”

“Do you have a girl?”

Javier hid the beginning of a smirk behind his hand. “No. I already told you that.”

“So nobody’s waiting for you back in the city?” you pressed, keeping your voice casual even as your heartbeat picked up against your ribs. “No one complaining about your hours or how impossible you are to deal with when you're tired after work?”

“No.” His eyes stayed fixed on yours. “No one’s waiting.”

“Good.” The word slipped out before you could stop it.

“Don’t say that.”

“Why not? It’s true.” You refused to look away. “I’m glad there’s nobody else. Is that so wrong?”

He let out a breath that almost sounded like a laugh and shook his head, looking down at his sandwich.

“What?” you asked lightly. “I’m just curious.”

He leaned forward just slightly. Like standing one step from the edge of something steep.

“No. You aren’t.” His tone flattened again. “You’re bored. We’re trapped in a cabin with no TV, no signal, and you’ve spent your whole life being the center of attention. Now it’s just me, so you’re fishing for a reaction.” His eyes narrowed faintly. “You’re poking at me to see if the hired help has a pulse.” A pause. “Why don’t you save these games for your boyfriend?”

That made you smile.

“You can’t stand Wes.”

Javier lifted his brows and tipped his head to the side.

“I’ve seen the way you look at him,” you continued. “The eye rolls every time he opens his mouth. Those exhausted sighs you let out whenever you’re stuck standing next to us.” Your smile widened slightly. “You’re really not that good at pretending.”

“Oh yeah?” he said dryly. “Do tell.”

“Well, I think it’s only fair, don’t you?” you said. “If you get to spend almost two years watching me, then I get to spend almost two years watching you too.” You tilted your head slightly. “What’s it like? Spending hours every day just… waiting for me to finish dinner or for some meeting to finally end?”

“It’s part of the paycheck. You get used to it.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Alright,” he said, his voice dropping lower. “Since you’re so curious, let’s flip it around. What exactly do you think you’re doing right now?” His eyes stayed pinned to yours. “Because I know for a fact you’re not this talkative in the city. Half the time you barely say two words to me in the car.”

You swallowed once.

“Maybe it’s the lack of an audience.”

“I don’t buy it.”

You shrugged and picked your sandwich back up, taking a small bite. Across from you, he kept watching.

“You’re not wrong, by the way,” he said after a moment. “About Wes.”

He shifted slightly, resting an arm along the back of the chair beside him. His eyes drifted toward the window to your left, the shadow of a grimace crossing his face.

“I find him incredibly childish,” he admitted, shaking his head. “The way he talks, the way he carries himself… I honestly thought you would’ve realized that by now. I figured someone as observant as you would’ve gotten tired of the performance months ago.”

You smiled, feeling a strange little victory in his honesty “He can be immature, but he’s not a bad guy.”

“It’s exhausting to watch, especially when I’m the one making sure his complete lack of situational awareness doesn’t get you both killed.” His jaw tightened. “Like at that party last week. The way he practically tried to drag you into that car? He was wasted.”

Your eyes flickered at the memory.

Yeah. Wes had been an idiot. He’d tried to get behind the wheel of his Lambo while drunk out of his mind and high on molly, then nearly thrown a tantrum when you told him you were going home alone. Javier had pulled you away by the arm before you even had the chance to argue.

“You’re a lot of things,” Javier continued, “but you’re not stupid. So yeah, it’s frustrating watching you settle for someone who doesn’t even know which direction the wind’s blowing.”

“A lot of things?” you repeated with a smile, brows pulling together slightly. “What exactly is that supposed to mean?”

He shook his head once. “Nothing. You’re persistent. Extremely persistent.” He nodded toward your sandwich. “Come on, eat. You’re hungry, aren’t you? Let’s finish dinner so I can get back to doing my job.”

“Your job is watching me, Javier,” you reminded him softly. “And I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. So watch me all you want.”

Surrounded by darkness, pure cold air, and a room you didn’t fully recognize, your hand flew to your chest as your eyes snapped open wide with panic. A bolt of lightning had struck somewhere nearby, violent enough to rattle the windowpanes, but even then, you couldn’t tell whether it was the thunder that had dragged you awake, or the nightmare still clawing at the inside of your head.

Outside, the rain fell in a heavy torrent, its frantic galloping against the roof mimicking the rhythm in your chest. You grabbed your phone to check the time: 3:00 AM. No, 3:31. And for a fleeting second, your mind drifted back to the legends whispered by schoolmates years and years ago. They said that at 3:33 AM, the veil thins, and creatures lurking in the cracks of the day emerge; it was the hour when the impossible and unusual became reality.

The room felt cavernous, its high corners swallowing the light and casting long jagged shadows. And the door stood half open, revealing nothing but pitch black hallway beyond it.

You pushed the blankets aside and lowered your feet onto the floor. Freezing.

Phone clutched tightly in your hand, you stepped into the hallway and pushed the flashlight over it, casting a pale beam over every step as you followed it toward the staircase.

“Javier?”

BOOM.

Another crack of thunder jolted through the house, making you jump in place. Your head whipped around instantly… Had the floor creaked behind you?

Your heart raced at a frantic pace as you rushed down the stairs, ignoring the thudding in your chest and the biting chill crawling up your legs.

Below, the living room flickered to life every few seconds, caught in the pale erratic flashes of lightning. The fireplace offered a pulsing warm glow that bled across the rug and the couch across from it, and on the coffee table sat a pack of cigarettes and a handgun. But Javier was nowhere to be seen.

You scanned the room, searching for a flashlight or anything useful, but found nothing. You spun on your heel and—

"Shit!"

Just as another bolt of lightning tore through the sky, bathing the room in a ghostly white glare, Javier appeared right in front of you.

Drenched to the bone, with wet hair plastered to his forehead, he stood there holding a heavy flashlight and a set of keys.

"You... you scared the shit out of me," you mumbled, recoiling a step. You knit your brows together. "What happened?"

"The power’s out," he rasped.

"I know that."

"The storm must've taken out a line down the road. Go to the fireplace; I’ve got the fire going. It’s the only place that’ll stay warm."

He brushed past you and stopped by the couch. He reached down, took the weapon, and tucked it out of sight.

"Sit," he commanded.

Without a word, you obeyed; the cold was becoming unbearable and exhaustion weighed heavy on your eyelids. You walked over and sank into the soft cushions of the couch. You were wearing only an oversized t-shirt that left your thighs exposed to the air; instinctively, you pulled the hem of the fabric down with one hand to cover yourself.

He vanished from your sight then, and you flicked off your phone’s flashlight, tossing the device onto the coffee table like the useless piece of hardware it had become. Before you, the fire roared, flames dancing restlessly from side to side. The warmth helped, but barely.

“Here.”

At the sound of his voice, you turned your head toward him. Javier stood behind the couch.

Without a word, he draped a thick heavy blanket over your shoulders. His fingers were still wet and freezing, and they lingered briefly against the back of your neck; the touch made you shiver. A second later, he pulled away and moved around the couch, sinking onto the opposite end with enough distance between you to feel intentional. He barely moved after that.

Water continued dripping from his clothes, leaving dark stains across the upholstery as the storm raged outside.

“You’re soaked,” you said quietly, your eyes trailing over him. “Why were you even outside?”

“Checking the power lines.”

His gaze never left the fire.

You frowned, watching the fabric of his shirt cling to his skin like a second layer of cold.

“Why don’t you change?”

“Don’t have anything here.” His jaw tightened faintly. “Louis is bringing the rest of the stuff tomorrow. Clothes included.”

“I’m sorry.”

In the ensuing silence, the reality of the situation felt heavier than the wool on your shoulders. The entire trip had been so rushed that neither of you had stopped to consider that a storm of this magnitude could leave you trapped and empty handed.

What if Louis couldn't reach you tomorrow?

As was his custom, your father would surely send more than one man. Javier, Louis, maybe Renzo, and likely Nora, who usually accompanied you on matters like this. But if the downpour persisted and the roads became impassable, there was no telling if they’d make it.

"So you're just going to stay like that? Drenched?"

“Yes.”

“You could dry off, you know,” you insisted, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself. “It’s not a big deal if you take the clothes off. But if you stay wet, you’re definitely gonna get sick.” You nodded toward the hallway. “There are towels in the closet.”

Javier seemed to process your words with a pause. For a moment, the only sound was the wind lashing against the windowpanes and the rumble of the sky.

His fingers brushed the edge of his sodden cuff, hesitating.

"Your hair is dripping," you added, as the final blow to his resistance.

A quiet sigh slipped out of him and he pushed himself to his feet. Grabbing the flashlight from the coffee table, he disappeared down the hallway without another word, as his silhouette was swallowed by darkness and the sound of his footsteps echoed across the wooden floorboards.

You took advantage of his absence to burrow deeper into the heavy blanket. Tucking your legs onto the couch, you leaned back, sinking into the cushions until only your eyes peered over the edge of the wool. The fire’s heat was finally taking hold, numbing your limbs and stilling the tremors in your body.

A moment later, Javier returned.

The jacket, shirt and jeans were gone. He walked with his torso completely bare, revealing a landscape of muscle and warm-toned skin. He wore only a towel wrapped low, clinging precariously to the line of his hips.

You fell silent, a sudden knot tightening in your throat. Your eyes betrayed you, tracing the breadth of his shoulders and the firmness of his chest, where traces of dampness still glistened. Your gaze drifted downward involuntarily, following the thin line of hair below his navel that disappeared beneath the waist of the towel.

A heat flared within you that had nothing to do with the hearth. You quickly averted your eyes toward the fire, hoping the dancing shadows on your cheeks would mask the unmistakable creep of a blush.

"Better," he said.

Javier sat back down, and the contrast was nearly unbearable. You remained motionless, your gaze fixed on the fire, though your eyes weren't truly seeing the flames. Internally, your mind was a chaotic mess of self-reproach; you thought this had to be some cruel joke, immediate karma for trying to toy with him during dinner. You had enjoyed every charged look and every double entendre, wanting to see if you could crack that stone mask he always wore. You wanted to provoke him, yes—but now that he was right there, half naked, the situation had spiraled out of your control.

A persistent tingle stirred in your lower abdomen, a pang of anticipation that you tried to ignore by pressing your legs together under the blanket. Your heart, ever the traitor, thrashed against your ribs with an erratic rhythm; you weren't worried about him hearing it, though, the thunder provided the perfect cover.

Javier let out a long exhale and leaned back against the cushions, stretching one arm across the top of the couch. His fingers came to rest mere inches from your back.

“You’re still shaking,” he observed. “You still cold?”

You turned your head just enough to see him out of the corner of your eye. He wasn't looking at you; his eyes were fixed on the ceiling, but his jaw was set tight.

"Yeah," you admitted in a whisper, clutching the edges of the blanket tighter against your chest. "I'm still a little cold."

You dared to turn fully to catch his profile. He remained there, letting the hearth’s warmth lick across his skin. He looked like a statue carved from only shadows and orange light.

"And you?" you asked. "Aren't you cold? You're almost... well, you aren't wearing much."

"A little. Did you get any sleep?"

"Just a bit," you confessed. "You?"

"No."

"Why?"

“Got a lot on my mind,” he muttered. And this time, he didn’t avoid your gaze.

He looked at you directly, with an intensity that made you feel strangely small and hyperaware of every inch of yourself all at once.

That tingle in your stomach flared again.

"A lot? Like what?"

Instead of an answer, a faint, arrogant smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. He remained silent, turning back toward the fire and running a finger over his mustache.

Oh, playing the mysterious type, are we?

Two could play that game.

Without a word, you let the blanket slide from your shoulders, allowing the chill of the room to bite at your skin. You rose from the couch and crossed to the fireplace, and felt his gaze searing into your back; you knew exactly how the hem of your shirt rode up with every step. You knew you were showing just the right amount of skin, and that as you leaned over to reach for the poker, your tights and ass were perfectly framed by the glow of the embers.

You gripped the iron tool and shifted the logs, moving with an unnecessary focus and tending to the fire while the heat enveloped you. When you finished, you set the poker back in its stand and turned around with excruciating patience.

You found him exactly as you expected: staring. His gaze was so heavy, so raw, it felt as though it could physically pin you against the wall. You didn't flinch. You held his stare and began to trace your own waist through the thin fabric of the shirt. You moved your fingers with a gentle touch, stroking upward, dragging the hem higher inch by inch, and stopped only when your fingers reached your naked waist, letting the garment hang dangerously high.

You stood still, waiting for him to make a move. But Javier didn't stop you, nor did he look away. Instead, he shifted his hips slightly forward on the couch, and you noted, with a silent surge of triumph, the way his breathing began to quicken.

"Do you want me to keep going... or do you want me to stop?" you asked.

He remained incredibly still. “How the hell am I supposed to look your daddy in the eye when I cash my paycheck?”

You offered a lopsided smile, feeling the power of the moment firmly in your grasp. You began to close the distance between you, step by step. When you were directly in front of him, you leaned down, resting your arms on the back of the couch just behind his head, trapping him within your space.

“Oh, come on,” you whispered, tilting closer. “You really wanna pretend you care?”

Your lips hovered dangerously near his.

“You’ll put on that good-man act,” you murmured. “Smile nice and polite while your eyes give absolutely nothing away.” Your gaze flicked briefly toward his mouth. “Such a good man. Always protecting me.”

Javier let out a low growl, and his hand clamped firmly around your wrist.

With a sudden, violent yank, he pulled you down onto him. You gasped as you collided with the heat of his bare chest, and your hands instinctively grasped his shoulders before sliding down over the hard ridges of his pectorals.

He wasted no time, hauling you up until you were straddling him, your bare thighs gripping his waist. One of his hands surged upward, locking his fingers around your jaw. He squeezed just enough to force your head back, and tilted your face toward his as he hauled you closer. His breath fanned across your lips.

"Does anyone know about this?" he rasped. "That you wanna go behind your daddy’s back and your rich little boyfriend just to get fucked by your bodyguard?"

Your heart hammered so violently against your ribs you thought it might shatter them. "No."

Javier’s eyes darkened, turning into two pits of black ink. "Tell me, how does that boy like to fuck you? I bet he’s so wasted half the time he can’t even get his dick hard enough to do the job. What a waste."

He dragged his thumb across your lower lip, pressing down and stretching your mouth open.

"He likes it on his back," you whispered, your voice trembling as you leaned into his touch. "Or doggy style, if he’s feeling adventurous."

You moved your mouth closer to his, so close your lips brushed his; his thumb was still hooked over your bottom lip.

"And what about you?" you challenged, your eyes locked onto his. "How would you fuck me?"

He leaned in, his lips brushing the soft skin of your ear. "I’m not really good with words, sweetheart."

In response, your hand traveled slowly up the expanse of his bare chest. "Then show me."

You pulled back just enough to catch his gaze before reaching for the hem of your shirt, and dragged the fabric upward and over your head, tossing it into the shadows. Javier fell into silence; his eyes tracked your movement, dropping to your bare breasts and devouring the sight of you in the amber firelight. Beneath you, you felt him surge; thick and rock hard, straining against the thin towel directly against you.

You reached up, cupping his face with one hand, and your thumb grazed his cheekbone. Slowly, you closed the distance, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that was deceptively tender. You parted your lips for him, your tongue sliding in to taste him.

As you deepened the kiss, your other hand wound into the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling firmly to tilt his head back. You caught his lower lip between your teeth and gave a playful tug.

He let out a growl, so animalistic and raw that vibrated from his chest straight into you. His hands slammed onto your backside and his fingers pressed deep into the flesh of your glutes. He jerked your hips forward, grinding you ruthlessly against his throbbing erection; the thin barrier of the towel did nothing to hide the fact that he was ready to snap.

And then, he broke the kiss.

"You have no idea what you’ve started," he rasped.

Javier didn’t wait for an answer. He attacked your neck, his teeth grazing your skin and his tongue swirling over the spot where your pulse was jumping. One of his hands slid from your hip, traveling up your ribcage until he captured your breast, squeezing it and flicking your nipple over and over with his thumb, watching as it peaked under his touch.

His other hand didn't stay still; he reached down between your bodies, his fingers hooking under the edge of your panties and shoving them aside. When he found you, he let out a whimper; Javier buried two fingers inside you with a sudden thrust, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing it with such a soft and heavy pressure that your back arched as soon as you felt him.

"Yes, fuck" you whimpered, your head falling back as the friction made you shiver.

He just watched you unravel, moving his fingers and letting them get wet. There was a triumphant smirk ghosting his lips.

A moment later, he withdrew his fingers; glistening and wet, he brought them to his mouth, tasting you without breaking eye contact. It was so filthy; no one had ever looked at you this way. Or at least, it had never felt this natural and raw before.

He gripped your waist again, his knuckles white with the effort of holding back.

"Not here," he gritted out. "Get on the rug. Lay down in front of the fire."

Obediently, you slid off his lap as Javier stood with you. You turned away, dropping to all fours on the rug and crawling toward the hearth. Every muscle in your back and hips flexed under the orange glow, your skin prickling as the intense heat of the flames washed over you and your body moved with a deliberate sway of your hips, feeling his eyes burning a hole in your spine, before settling onto your backside in the center of the rug.

Standing right over you, he reached for the knot of the towel at his waist and jerked it free, tossing it carelessly onto the couch.

There he was, fully exposed in the flickering light. He was massive; his cock thick, angry and fully erect, pulsing with every thud of his heart. A single glistening bead of pre-cum clung to the tip, reflecting the fire. It watered your mouth. A second later, he wrapped a large hand around the base of his shaft, grazing the dark curls of hair at his groin, and began to slowly pump himself.

The sight of him doing that just for you made your breath hitch. The payoff to every thought you’d had about this hard quiet man over the past year couldn’t be sweeter.

Without breaking eye contact, you hooked your fingers into the lace of your panties and dragged them down your legs, kicking them aside. You lay back on the rug, spreading your legs wide until you were completely open to him.

The heat of the fire was nothing compared to the ache between your thighs. You slid your hand down and your fingers disappeared into your own wetness. You began to stroke yourself, circling your clit with a slick pressure while watching him stroke himself right above you.

"Look at you," Javier rasped. His hand moved faster now. "Open like a gift for me. Soaked and desperate."

You let out a broken moan, arching your back as your fingers worked harder, slicking your folds with your own cream. "Don't make me wait."

He stopped mid-stroke, his chest heaving as he stared down at the way you were touching yourself. His face was full of pure delicious lust.

Javier dropped to his knees between your thighs a second later, the heat from the hearth making his shoulders glisten like oil. But he didn't rush; he started by dragging his fingertips along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, teasing the edges of your wetness until you were squirming beneath him. Then, he pressed his palm flat against your mound, grinding in a slow circle that forced a jagged breath from your lungs.

He slid two thick fingers into you, pushing deep until he hit hilt, and started a slow soft pump; in and out, stretching you, letting you feel the sheer size of him through his hands. Then, he hooked his fingers upward, findind that one delicious spot that always made your toes curl.

In the privacy of your own company, you’d driven yourself to the edge with this exact motion more times than you could count. Half the time, Javier had been right on the other side of the door, completely unaware; you knew how to stay quiet. But your fingers were nothing like his. Not in the way they moved, not in their size, and definitely not because this time, it was him doing it. It was enough to make stars burst behind your eyes.

The sound was so filthy, so wet.

"You hear that?" he muttered. "You're so fucking wet for me, baby, aren't you?"

You threw your head back, your cheeks burning with a feverish flush. Every time he curled his fingers, a hot jolt shot through your spine. When you opened your eyes for a fleeting second, all you could see was the orange roar of the fire, blurring into a haze of pleasure.

Suddenly, he leaned down, burying his face between your legs. When his tongue lashed against your clit, you let out a strangled sob, your fingers instinctively diving into his thick hair, clutching him against you. He was destroying you, his mouth working with punishing hunger that pushed you right to the edge of unraveling.

You began to toss your head, your hips bucking uselessly as you tried to find friction. You were so close.

But then, he pulled away abruptly. His fingers vanished, his mouth left your skin, and the sudden cold made you whimper in protest.

"What do you want?" he gritted out through clenched teeth. His chest was heaving, his face was inches from yours.

You ran a trembling hand through your hair, staring up at him with blown out pupils as your breasts were rising and falling frantically.

Javier reached down, his large hand sliding under your hip to give your ass a stinging slap that made you jump.

"I just asked you a question," he growled. "What do you want?"

You pushed yourself up onto your elbows; your hair was a mess around your shoulders.

"I want you to fuck me," you breathed. "So fucking hard and deep, Javier. Can you do that for me?"

A dark, dangerous shadow crossed his face. Slowly, he nodded, his gaze locked onto yours with a promise of total ruin.

"Yeah," he rasped, reaching for his cock. "I can do that."

Javier gripped his shaft and guided the head to your entrance, which was already dripping and swollen. He didn't ease in; with a low grunt, he lunged forward, burying his entire length inside you in one deep soul shattering thrust.

The air left your lungs in a wheeze. You were stretched to the absolute limit, your internal muscles spasming around him as he bottomed out. He stayed there for a moment, buried deep, as his forehead rested against yours.

"You're so fucking tight," he choked out.

You smiled, suddenly cock-drunk. And he began to hammer into you with a raw intensity, his hips hitting yours with a slap so loud it echoed over the crackling fire and your heartbeat. He reached down and yanked one of your knees upward, pinning it against your chest so he could drive even deeper.

"Yes, please," you sobbed, your head thrashing against the rug. "Please, don't stop... oh god, don't stop."

He leaned down, his mouth crashing against yours in a kiss for a moment before his attention shifted to your neck, his teeth sinking into the delicate cord of your throat. You screamed into him, your own teeth catching his shoulder, biting down hard enough to leave marks as the pleasure became too much to bear. It felt like your nervous system was short-circuiting, every nerve ending screaming under the friction of him filling you.

Javier let out a loud, pained moan and his pace became frantic. He reached up, and his large hand wrapped around your throat; not to choke, but to pin you, to claim you. He forced you to look at him.

"Mirame a los ojos," he rasped. "Mira como estás. You think that rich boy could ever make you cry like this? You think he knows how to break you open?"

He slammed into you again, harder this time, harder and harder, his thumb stroking your jaw while his fingers tightened slightly on your neck. Your breath was completely destroyed, coming in tiny pathetic hitches.

"You’re mine tonight," he growled. "Mine. Just my cock stretching you out until you can't think of anyone else. Say it. Tell me who's fucking you. Say it."

"You," you gasped, your vision blurring as you neared the ledge. "You are... Javier... please…"

He let out another groan, his muscles coiling like a spring as he prepared to lose the last of his control.

The sound was absolute filth and you loved it. You could feel yourself overflowing, your own heat and cream coating his shaft and dripping down the curve of your ass, slicking the insides of your thighs until every thrust felt like sliding through hot velvet.

Javier let out a ragged uneven breath. He reached down, hooking his forearms under your pits and hauling your upper body off the rug until you were arched toward him.

"Look at you," he commanded. "Look how well you're taking me."

You forced your eyes open, glancing down through a haze of sweat and pleasure to see the primal sight of his thick cock disappearing into you and pulling out glistening with your nectar, over and over.

"See how sweet you are for me?" he growled. "How you take every inch like you were made for it?"

Before you could even gasp, he shifted his grip; his hand buried deep into the hair at the nape of your neck and jerking your head back. He crashed his mouth against yours in a desperate kiss.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him flush against you as your breasts crushed into his damp chest, and hooked your legs high around his waist, locking your ankles behind his back.

"Please... yes, right there, Javi," you sobbed into his mouth, your internal muscles clenching around him. "I'm so close... I’m right there."

"I know, baby," he gritted out.

He was losing it too; the measured man was gone, replaced by a one driven by pure lust. His skin was scorching, slick with sweat that acted like a lubricant between your bodies, and for the first time all night, you were no longer cold.

His movements became desperate. "Don't you move," he hissed. "Take all of it. Take it, take it, you're such a fucking good girl."

The climax hit you hard and soft at the same time; your entire body spasmed, your back arching off the rug in a messy line as the first wave of the orgasm tore through you. Debilitating, high-pitched whimpers escaped your throat and got lost in the roar of the fire. You were unraveling, every muscle in your cunt clenching around him in a desperate pulse that seemed to have no end.

Javier didn't let up; his movements became erratic and frantic as he felt you shattering beneath him. His fingers dug into your waist with bruising force, his knuckles white as he anchored himself inside of you; you reached for him blindly, your hands roaming over his sweat slicked shoulders, his heaving chest, his jaw.

You pulled him down, kissing him, your teeth catching his lip and drawing a metallic tang of blood. And as you finally broke apart for air, a thin, silver thread of saliva lingered between your mouths.

He let out a broken moan, his face contorting into a pained beautiful expression that looked almost like he was weeping. He pressed his forehead hard against yours, his eyes squeezed shut as he fought to stay upright.

"Come inside me," you choked out, your voice a wrecked whisper against his lips. "Come inside me, Javi... please…"

With three more violent thrusts, his entire frame went rigid. A low sob erupted from his lungs as he finally surrendered, and you felt the scorching heat of him flooding you, wave after wave of his release pumping deep into your womb, filling the space he’d spent the last minutes claiming.

He went still then, buried to the hilt, his weight collapsing forward as he trembled against you, savoring the dying echoes of the friction and the absolute chaos of the storm outside.

Slowly, he let his forehead fall against yours, and your hands slid up his broad shoulders until they curled around the back of his neck.

You smiled softly. “Where’s the serious man who wouldn’t even look me in the eye during the drive?” you teased. “You look different now.”

Javier lifted his head just enough to meet your gaze. His hand brushed gently along your cheek before he gave a faint shake of his head.

“He’s gone. You buried him the second you took that shirt off. I’m supposed to be the one protecting you, but God help me… I’d do it all over again just to hear you fall apart like that one more time.”

His words felt like a victory; they sent a thrill through your stomach.

“Well,” you murmured, your fingers tracing lightly along the back of his neck, “it’s just gonna be you and me until tomorrow.”

☆Bodyguard Clark Kent who was hired by your dad who works for the government and you’ve chased away countless bodyguards.

☆Bodyguard Clark who’s first interaction with you didn’t go so well. He knows your reputation for being a spoiled brat.

☆Bodyguard Clark who lets you criticise him and interrogate him , telling him “A loser like you is only going to last a week”

☆ Bodyguard Clark who INSISTS on calling you “ Ma’am” and “Miss” despite you saying he doesn’t have to.

☆Bodyguard Clark who’s not easily broken and isn’t going to lower himself to your behaviour.

☆ Bodyguard Clark who tells you “I’m not employed by you. I’m employed by your father” But is still happy to fulfil requests eager to please you even if you hate him, You hate that tie? Gone. Never to be seen again.

☆Bodyguard Clark who keeps being superman a secret from you, deemed pointless to have weapons but does so.

☆ Bodyguard Clark who absolutely will NOT take his glasses off in front of you. Don’t even bother trying to convince him.

☆ Bodyguard Clark who’s gun is swallowed by his large hands and refuses to let your dainty hands hold it. (No matter how much you beg and whine)

☆ Bodyguard Clark who follows you around like a puppy because he insists it’s “protocol.”

☆ Bodyguard Clark who always places his hand under countertops or cupboards so you don’t bash your head getting up.

☆ Bodyguard Clark who is on your case making sure you’re eating.

☆ Bodyguard Clark who uses his super-hearing to make sure you’re asleep before completing missions.

☆ Bodyguard Clark who matches your energy like nobody else has. He seems so sweet and shy? But what happens when he does break?

☆ Bodyguard Clark who reaches his breaking point around you and kneels down so he’s level with your eyes , hands on his knees and his voice is dangerously calm scolding you as if you were a child . “I’ve tried so hard to be fucking nice to you honey, you’re not playing fair are you?”

☆ Bodyguard Clark who knows your mother left when you were young and knows you’re acting like this to push him away.

☆Bodyguard Clark who tries to remain so professional when you’re taunting him with that outfit.

☆ Bodyguard Clark who will ABSOLUTELY cockblock you if you try and have a guy friend over. As he insists it’s a “security risk.”

☆ Bodyguard Clark who feels oh so guilty when he’s jerking off to you in his temporary room in your house , whining your name. But he can’t help it. The way you treat him does something to him.

☆ Bodyguard Clark who feels he’s failed you when he’s fucking his dick deeply into your pussy. “suppose to be protecting you” but you’re loving every second. “M’sorry you feel so good.”

☆ Bodyguard Clark who begs you to keep it a secret between them because he needs this job. He NEEDS to protect you. He’s so thankful you’re on the pill. For now.

☆ Bodyguard Clark who gets pissed off with your attitude and fucks the brat out of you while your father is in the next room. “You’ve not got anything to say back now have you hmm?”

☆ Bodyguard Clark who can and WILL. Kill for you.

Yeah uhm I don’t know about this! Let me know what you think ? Might write more 🎀

✧・ﾟ: ✧・ﾟ ════ ⋆☆⋆ ════ ✧・ﾟ: ✧・ﾟ

CURRENT FICS FOR BODYGUARD CLARK :

Do you think I’m pretty ?

bodyguard!dex who keeps it too professional, and your attitude isn't helping to defuse the akward situation

you hate how silent he is. he appears out of nowhere and nearly gives you a heart attack at least twice a day. standing there with a vacant stare and his hands clasped, as if he were waiting for you to engage with him or for the worst possible catastrophe—full of blood and screams—to unfold. you never know what he's thinking.

“stop following me.” you repeat every damn time. doesn't matter if you're in a public space or screaming it through your living room windows.

“mr. fisk told me to protect you.” and he simply replies, without looking at your face.

“i don’t need your protection.”

“that’s not your decision.”

those words made your skin crawl every time he repeated them, letting you go after trying to throw something at him that he’d catch with his left hand. maybe her father was right, she needed someone to protect her… and if dex put you in any danger, wilson fisk would be furious if he didn’t have his precious daughter under his wing to keep her in a gilded cage

bodyguard!dex who has to deal with a bratty lady if he wants to stay alive.

so, you start doing dumb things just to just to try and get him to leave, or to tease him:

taking random taxis without warning

disappearing into crowded clubs

flirting with dangerous men at parties

and dex always finds you within minutes

the terrifying part is how easy it is for him

he always catches you, giving you just enough breathing space to think you’ve won, but never enough time for something outside his radar to actually happen.

you will duck through subway crowds, change coats with strangers, cut through alleyways... and then:

“you’re not making this difficult.”

he’ll be standing right there, completely calm, not even out of breath.

“put effort to make it fun for yourself, at least.”

“motherfucker...” you pant.

that taxi? will have a flat tyre. the crowds? he can blend in with the people you leave behind, pushing them aside with the space his shoulders take up. he can follow your scent of an expensive girl from anywhere. the man you shouldn't be talking to? dex was already watching him before you even notice the danger yourself.

he catches the man’s posture, the angle of his hands, he assesses with his eyes just how exposed his neck is, the number of exits behind you... but he lets you play with it.

and if the stranger gets too comfortable—too close or too smiling—you’ll suddenly feel dex at your shoulder, knowing it's him without having to turn around.

quiet. massive. inhumanly still.

the man stops talking to you, so you look down at your drink on the bar.

“walk away,” he says flatly.

most men do. and the ones who don’t, dex doesn't give you the satisfaction of seeing him annoyed. he stays back.

three minutes later, when he would be smiling again: CRACK!

the man suddenly folds over clutching his face because somehow an olive pit launched from across the room hit him directly in the eye at mach 3.

nobody knows where it came from, dex is still standing beside you holding your drink untouched. when you wipe the drop of blood from your cheek and turn towards him, he already has your coat draped over his arm.

“you attract dangerous people” he murmurs, like he isn’t the worst one there. “we should get going”

—

another gets cocky in a charity gala. too public, plus the cameras. he smiles at dex and you let him put a hand on your lower back anyway.

you turned to look at dex, just to play along, and he simply ran his tongue over his teeth, turning his back to you. you couldn’t believe it; you were sweating. had you won that one?

barely seconds after, something wet touches you before the crack of the glass. the champagne in his hand fucking explodes into your dress, soaking your neckline.

the man stares at his shredded sleeve in confusion while dex calmly asks you:

“do you have a spare dress?”

—

one particularly persistent finance bro laughs after being warned, one that you didin't even try to play with.

“i’m not scared of your bodyguard.”

“you should” you surrender, sighing, taking a sip of a can. nothing that can be cracked.

dex says nothing. looks at you, you look at him.

one minute later the guy’s phone flies out of his hand and directly into a decorative fountain.

the man only manage to blink. “fucki—”

then:

an ice cube hits his forehead

a canapé lands in his suit pocket

a waiter trips and a fork embeds perfectly into the wall beside his ear

at this point the guy looks genuinely haunted.

meanwhile dex is beside you adjusting his cufflinks with the blankest expression imaginable.

try to chat someone up has become a bit of a joke between the two of you, and the funniest part is that dex never reacts afterward.

you’ll be trying not to laugh while the man searches the room for the invisible force attacking him, and dex just quietly leans down near your ear:

“he’s still looking at you.”

THWACK.

the poor bastard immediately gets hit in the throat with a macaron from forty feet away.

well... you have to find another way to get it more tense.

bodyguard!dex who holds his breath as he peer through the peephole at your flat’s window at two in the morning and don’t find you there

the noise is getting bigger than him at this point. he tries to keep it methodical: check the street - call the driver - scan exits - reconstruct timelines.

fisk told him your scape routes, but this time you just vanished and he comprehends that he shouldn't have had the drink you offered him before entering your home.

something ancient and ugly crawls up the back of his throat, scratching his skull: he failed.

dex unlocks the door in under three seconds, franatic. the apartment still smells faintly like your perfume, which somehow makes it worse. like prey warmth left behind after the body’s already gone.

his breathing changes immediately, shallow and shorter, so the kitchen is untouched, your bed cold with the window cracked open. a post-it sticks in the glass: a mark of your red lips

a fucking goodbye? that was it?

dex starts moving through the apartment too fast, throwing drawers open hard enough to crack wood, because now the thoughts are coming: did someone harm you whilst he hasn't been with you? you had a plan? did fisk knew before me?

that last one nearly makes him throw up regrets and bitterness.

the city unfolded beneath him like a living map as he descended. from the rooftop access he’d commandeered, new york stopped being buildings and streets, it became trails of you. the way crowds flowed and split because of the cadence of someone trying to disappear.

silly girl.

because, at this point, you taught dex the exact cadence of your panic without even trying. now he knows where you go when overwhelmed, what neighborhoods you avoid and, for sure, how long you can stay alone before looking over your shoulder.

in his own horror, he was already three steps ahead of your chaos.

dex cut through the streets like a scalpel, without having to run. running drew eyes. every sense sharpened to a lethal point to find you. a discarded wrapper from the exact energy bar you liked, a faint scent of your shampoo caught on a street vent...

there.

he spotted the flicker of your movement across the street, half-hidden waiting for the bus. forty-one minutes. right on schedule.

looking again at your frame, made his lips curled, something feral and almost tender twisting in his chest. the noise was definetly lowering.

you thought you could run from him.

dex stepped into the alley mouth ahead of your path, waiting. his heart was no longer panicking, it was singing.

as he expected, you rounded the corner at a hurried clip, with your hoodie pulled low and the breath visible in the cool night air. the second you registered him standing there your whole body jersked like you'd been electrocuted.

no, it couldn't be. he's there. he's there and you lost again!

for half a second, neither of you moved further than a faint crooked smile forming in his lips before his voice slid out, low and velvet-rough.

“hello, you”

you bolted. not away from him but past him, shouldering into the narrower gap of the alley like a rabbit flushing from cover.

he let you. he could’ve had your wrist in an iron grip before you even finished the first stride, but he didn’t. instead, he tilted his head, watching the way your legs pumped, the flash of panic and something darker in your eyes.

he liked this part too much.

“run,” he murmured, almost fondly. “i’ll even give you a head start.”

you didin't even look back to check if he was following, the rush of adrenaline burned your muscles, making your eyes tear up and your lips to smile tightly, exhaling a rythmic laugh as you round the corner abruptly, your foot slips on the wet pavement. you stumble and find yourself on your hands and knees, pushing yourself back up without even feeling the sting of the graze on your calf.

you darted through the back alleys of hell’s kitchen, leaping over trash bags, cutting across empty loading docks. he stayed just close enough for you to hear his footsteps. never sprinting nor frantic. how could him? you weren't able to arouse any feeling in him?

every time you glanced over your shoulder, he was there. closer... then a little farther, playing with the distance like a cat with a string.

you hated how much you wanted this. the sick thrill curling low in your stomach. the way your blood sang every time you heard him gaining ground. you’d never admit it, not even to yourself. not the good daughter of wilson fisk. but God, you wanted him to chase you down like a target. be something more than 'the daughter of'

you took a sharp left into an old service tunnel beneath an abandoned garment factory on 39th, following the map you traced many nights ago. the chain-link gate had been cut long ago. no cameras nor traffic this late. just dripping pipes, flickering emergency lights that barely worked, and miles of empty concrete corridors.

perfect.

you thought of hiding, really thought about getting in something dark and listen to him wander in anger. you could even savour it in your mind.

in the real world, dex’s voice echoed just behind you, a calm wave lapping against the walls.

“you’re slowing down. legs getting tired?”

you pushed harder, lungs burning, but a twisted smile tugged at your lips despite everything. you heard that smile in his voice. he was enjoying this. and worse—you were too.

he finally closed the distance in a short sprint, one arm snaked around your waist from behind, pulling you backwards, tearing away any air left in your diaphragm. you choked on your own saliva as you tried to scream, reaching out with your hands to grab something while being thrown to the dirty ground. a considerate hand holding the top of your head for as long as your reduction lasted.

a groan escaped your lips as he pressed half your head against something wet and slippery beneath you, feeling his weight suffocating you as he lay on top of you. your breathing quickened at the thought that you couldn’t escape. alredy knowing that he couldn’t hurt you, no matter how much you wanted him to, you... had lost again.

“got you,” he breathed against your ear, taking the opportunity to rest his forehead against your temple

‘you said you'd give me a head start’ you muffled, tasting something tart. probably mud

his other hand came up around your neck like he could touch your words, feeling the wild flutter of your pulse.

‘i got bored’

‘son of a...’

you struggled, twisting in his grip. he let you turn to face him, your back now pressed against the cold tiled wall of the deserted tunnel. the only light came from a dying bulb twenty feet away, just the distant hum of the city far above and the sound of both of you breathing hard.

dex’s eyes were bright looking down on you, almost feverish. that dangerous, boyish grin played on his mouth, aggravating the wound above his eyebrow.

“i should drag you back right now,” he said softly. “your father’s probably losing his mind.”

his thumb stroked along your jaw, also sensing your pulse there, and your lips parted in order to get some air.

“…but I think you want to run again.”

you stared up at him, chest heaving. you didn’t answer. you didn’t have to. the way your fingers curled into his wrist, breaking through the top layer of the skin, neither pushing him away nor pulling him closer, said everything.

dex leaned in until his forehead almost touched yours.

“last chance for tonight, fisk. run.”

he loosened his grip just enough.

you held his gaze for one electric second, checking to see if he’d really stay put, on his knees while you slipped away to freedom. and he did.

you shoved him back and sprinted deeper into the abandoned tunnel, heart hammering with twisted, shameful excitement.

dex laughed under his breath seeing your back and your hair dancing with the wind.

he followed at a measured pace, his footsteps echoing in the damp tunnel like a metronome. the thrill was still there, humming under his skin, but now it was sharpening into something darker, fucking stupid and reckless because he had given you that opportunity while his mind was clouded by the high you had given him if you actually slipped away—if wilson fisk lost his daughter because he let this game go too far—fisk wouldn’t just fire him. he’d skin him alive. slowly but creatively. and Dex had no illusions about surviving that.

“dod damn it,” he growled under his breath, the words carrying down the corridor. “you’re going to get me killed!”

he could hear you ahead, following the slap of your sneakers on wet concrete. you were tiring, but still pushing, and yet some sick part of you needed him to prove he could catch you.

fine.

dex’s hand dipped into his pocket and came out with a small steel ball bearing he always carried. in one fluid motion he whipped it forward, a blur in the low light.

the bearing ricocheted off a pipe with a sharp ping, then slammed into an old metal grate leaning against the wall just ahead of you. the grate toppled with a loud metallic crash, right into your path.

you tried to dodge too late, getting your foot caught the edge and you stumbled hard, arms windmilling. before you could recover, you felt a wall behind you. something big and sturdy to hold on to

dex caught you mid-fall, one arm locking around your waist like a steel band, spinning you so your back slammed against the curved tunnel wall and then got you pressed against his chest. the impact knocked the air out of you. his other hand planted beside your head, caging you in a headlock to make sure you couldn't leave again

Hhs face was inches from yours now, really gasping this time like a real human being. partly out of fear and partly out of euphoria

“you think this is a fucking game?” he hissed, voice rough now, even as his body pressed closer from behind. “if you disappear, fisk doesn’t just kill me. he makes it last days. and i would deserve it because i let a brat run anyway”

you were panting, chest rising and falling against his. Your hands had instinctively grabbed his forearms over the jacket, fisting the fabric. but you couldn't push him away, although you already knew what was going to happen, didn't you?

your shallow breaths weren't enough; the bottom of your lungs were burning from all the running, and you could see little coloured lights flickering

gex’s forehead dropped against your temple, almost bruising. he tightened his grip when he saw that it had an effect on you, listening to you gasp

“i should cuff you right now. drag you back by the hair if i have to.” his arms loosened, making you cling to him so you wouldn’t feel dizzy when you could breathe deeply, opening your mouth, dirty with mud. “but you like this, don’t you? you like knowing you're not alone anymore, that i’ll always find you”

his voice burned against you ear. the tunnel was dead silent except for the drip of water somewhere deeper in

you felt the tremor in his muscles, the barely-leashed violence mixed with something hungrier. his fingers flexed on your neck like he was deciding whether to shove you to the ground or kiss you until you couldn’t breathe again

“say it,” he demanded, tired of good manners. “tell me you wanted me to chase you”

he tightened his grip around your neck after seeing you catch your breath, sensing his sweat under the cloths his patience wore. was a reminder of control. now he knew how really tired you were, all clumpsy and tender

“or you can run again,” he whispered, lowering his head to yours “see how fast i put you on your knees this time.”