#chapo

Bad tips. A failed raid (on your part). Internal pressure from above. 

And worst of all, Pulse was starting to crop up in the clubs. It wasn’t rumors anymore. The axe had fallen, and the cartels were making their drops over the entire county.  

Real seizures. Real overdoses. And worst of all, and alarming amount sexual assault cases were beginning to streamline into the lower divisions of the percent. 

The city was rotting faster than anyone wanted to admit and Pulse was everywhere. Even more insidious than cocaine, or meth, this horror show drug was making being in law enforcement near impossible.

You were drowning in coffee and sleeping under your desk most nights now, a jacket folded into a sad excuse for a pillow and a borrowed moving blanket from the storage room. The station felt safer than your apartment. 

It was familiar,  guarded, and populated.

Having your fellow officers everywhere did give you some peace, but they tended to steer clear of you these days. Especially after what you had been through. They figured you were having some sort of trauma response and needed to feel safe. No one questioned why you never went home.

Every bump in the night had you convinced it was a sicario at your door, sent by none other than Ramón Arellano-Félix himself.

You could only do two nights before you decided you were unofficially moving into the precinct. 

Nights at the station were long anyway. There wasn’t much point in going home, you reasoned. Not now. Now with Pulse running rampant everywhere. 

Better than Daniel finding your body dumped in a ditch somewhere south of the border.

You hadn’t even moved the ominous bag of cash.

It was still sitting in your living room, untouched, next to the fireplace like some kind of cursed object. You’d thought about burning it. You’d thought about dumping it at a church. But you landed on pretending it didn’t exist. At least for now. 

Dirty money. Drug money.

Ramón Arellano’s money.

Ten thousand American dollars. Thats nearly 35 million pesos. 

You refused to accept it. Your morality wouldn’t let you. But you couldn’t exactly turn it in either—that would open questions you couldn’t answer. Like how the hell a low ranking cop managed to score a literal fortune overnight. 

Daniel would pry. The chief would pry harder.

And there was no universe where you could explain that you’d slept with the enemy in a drug-induced frenzy, only for him to leave ten thousand dollars and a message… and somehow learn where you lived… and taken your panties like some pervy trophy. 

You were becoming compromised, and the thought made your stomach churn. This wasn’t how your life was supposed to go. 

Once your anxiety about going home died down, you told yourself you’d donate it. Spread it around. Let something good come out of something so disgusting and rotten.

You weren’t sure who you were trying to convince at this point. 

“Another night under the desk?” Daniel asked, snapping you out of your thoughts.

He came in balancing a bag of pastries and a steaming cup of coffee on his good arm, looking irritatingly well-rested.

His other arm was relaxed in a sling, still healing from the warehouse shooting. Thanks Kitty.

“Yup.”

He stopped short when he really looked at you. The circles under your eyes. The way your shoulders were permanently hunched, like you were fighting to stay awake.

“Y/N,” he said, slower now, “you need real sleep. You’re starting to look like a corpse.”

“I’m fine,” you muttered, rubbing at your eyes.

He just placed his good hand on his hip and raised an inquisitive brow.

You sighed. “I just don’t want to be alone.”

That gave him pause.

“I know being trapped in a concrete box is… traumatizing,” he said carefully, choosing his words, “but you can’t live here. What about your neighbor that you care for?”

You sighed, honestly he was right and you were feeling guilty about leaving Mary alone in the duplex, “I am sleeping—at my desk and I left a note for Mary.”

“Lying on a pallet under a desk is not sleeping.” He set the pastries down harder than necessary. “And you’ve been weird.”

You froze. “Weird?”

He studied you for a second. “You don’t joke around anymore. You flinch every time someone walks up behind you. And you’ve been dodging me. I don’t even recognize you anymore.”

“I haven’t been dodging you.” You narrowed your eyes.

“You haven’t looked me in the eye all week.”

That one hit you in the gut. Okay, maybe you have been weird. But it wasn’t your fault. It’ just, every time you looked him in the eye you were scared he’d see right through you. So… you didn’t.

You looked away, jaw tightening. “I’m just tired.”

“Bullshit.” His voice wasn’t angry—yet. Just concerned in a way that made your chest ache. “Talk to me. We’ve known each other too long for this. Something happened in that warehouse. Just talk to me.”

You laughed softly, humorless. “Nothing happened. I just thought it was going to die in there. It’s made me think about things.”

“I get that.” He sighed, “but you can’t live like this. You didn’t overdose on pulse, Arellano didn’t kill you. You survived. You got away.”

Silence stretched between you as you just stared at his wounded arm.

“How do you do it?” you asked instead, changing the subject too fast.

He frowned. “Do what?”

“Pretend this job doesn’t get under your skin.”

He shrugged. “I don’t pretend. I just don’t let it eat me alive. I talk about it.”

You swallowed. If only he knew how literal that felt.

The secretary—Maria—popped her head in a second later, bright as ever. “Officer Y/L/N, Officer Ramirez. Another case from the Chief.”

She handed over the manila folder with a smile. Daniel thanked her, eyes lingering a second too long as she walked away.

You reached for the folder.

Daniel snatched it first.

“Nope.”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

He pointed his finger at you. “You’re calling in sick. Go home. Sleep. I’m not letting you run around on half a tank. That’s how people get killed.”

“I don’t need babysitting.”

“Yes, you do,” he shot back. “Because whatever’s going on with you, you’re not telling me. And that’s dangerous.”

Your stomach twisted.

“Daniel—”

“No,” he cut in. “You don’t get to shut me out and then act like I’m the asshole for noticing.”

You exhaled sharply, trying to keep your voice steady. “Nothing’s wrong.”

He stared at you, clearly unconvinced. “Then why are you sleeping here?”

Because my apartment doesn’t feel safe. Because he knows where I live. Because every shadow feels like him.

Instead, you said, “Because I don’t want to go home.”

Daniel’s jaw tightened. “That’s not a reason.”

You forced a small smile. “It’s the truth.” The lie came out a little too easily.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m serious, Y/N. If something’s wrong—if someone threatened you—”

“No one did.”

This lie tasted bitter. Because for a brief moment there, you considered telling him.

He searched your face, clearly weighing whether to push harder. Finally, he stepped back, shoulders slumping just a bit.

“Go home,” he said quietly. “Get some rest. We’ll talk later.”

You nodded, relief and guilt tangling in your chest. You just wanted out of this conversation. The anxiety of returning home dulled for now by your desire to flee from Daniel. 

As you grabbed your things, you could feel his eyes on your back.

And you hated that the person you trusted most was the one you couldn’t tell.

“Mhm.”

He stood, coffee and report in hand, leaving you no room to argue.

Fine.

You grabbed your bag, your keys, and your gun. Said your goodbyes. Maria promised she’d tell people you were out. You smiled, because that was easier than explaining.

By the time you hit the stairs, anxiety had already started creeping back in.

You hadn’t been to your apartment in days.

The drive home was short frankly too short for your liking. The engine’s hum made your eyes heavy, but your nerves stayed tight, coiled with anticipation of what you might be walking into. You parked, locked up, and dreaded the climb upstairs. 

You couldn’t help but picture the worst. Ramon’s men. The ones from the photos. Waiting for you. Wanting to main and hurt you and god knows what. You’ve seen the bodies, they’re not fond of mercy killings. They like to take their cruel time.

Your heart raced as you unlocked the door.

Everything was exactly how you’d left it.

Relief hit hard enough to make your knees feel weak.

You dropped your bag and shoes by the door. You peeled off your coat and threw it over the kitchen chair. Your stomach grumbled from hunger as the coffee and snacks you’ve been eating clearly weren’t enough. You walked to the sink and discovered the fruit had molded, and the fridge was a lost cause. You dumped everything and decided takeout was future-you’s problem. But for now…

Now you needed sleep. 

You wandered down the hallway turning into your bedroom to flop onto your bed. 

The second your back hit the mattress, you were out like a light. 

You woke to a loud bang. 

Heart slamming, your hand flew for your gun.

Then nothing.

You heard some chitter chatter and a dog whimper realizing it was just your neighbor’s door.

You cursed under your breath and forced yourself to breathe and calm yourself down. Ramón probably sent the money once to keep you quiet about the whole thing. He wasn’t lurking around your building. You weren’t important enough to waste time on. He probably just didn’t want it getting out he banged a cop while stoned out of his mind. That must be humiliating for a crime lord like him. 

You were being paranoid.

After a long shower, you ordered takeout from your favorite local spot. The clock read six pm. Damn you had slept most of the day, just trying to catch up. You shuffled into your room and riffled through your closet grabbing a t-shirt and jeans to throw on. The exhaustion really had been worse than you thought. 

Knowing your food was definitely ready at this point you grabbed your purse and keys. 

You glanced at the gun on the nightstand.

For a moment you considered taking it with you. But the restaurant was only a few blocks away. You’d be fine. You knew this street like the back of your hand. 

Grabbing a pair of sneakers, you trotted to the door, eager to get your tacos and veg out on the couch. 

When you stepped outside, the street was alive. Warm air made your hair dance as you descended your porch stairs, music drifting from various balconies, familiar faces waved at you no doubt wondering where you’ve been. For the first time in days, your shoulders loosened. It was just like normal. 

The food smelled incredible as it wafted up the road. 

However, that fragile sense of relief shattered the moment you looked up and saw the red Mustang idling across the street. 

Your steps slowed without you meaning them to. 

You knew that car. 

The color was unmistakable and burned deeply into your memory. 

Ramón’s car. 

The placement felt deliberate and obvious, like he wanted you to notice him. Like he wanted you to know you were seen. This was clearly a message. 

The driver’s door opened, and your heart jumped, bracing for him. But it wasn’t Ramón who stepped out.

It was Barrón.

You recognized him instantly. The build. The posture. The way he moved. He was American. Los Angeles local turned cartel gunman. You’d seen his face in reports and in many grainy photos clipped to your mission reports. He didn’t approach you. Didn’t call out. He just leaned against the Mustang and watched. 

He was observing you as you continued your walk hesitantly towards your local taco joint.

Your skin prickled under the weight of his attention. You kept walking, forcing your body to move like nothing was wrong, like this wasn’t happening. You focused on the taco place ahead of you. 

But you couldn’t help like he was waiting for you to make the wrong move. Maybe Ramon did in fact want you disappeared. 

But he wasn’t going to come do it himself. 

Every instinct screamed at you to reach for your gun, for the familiar comfort of weight at your hip.

But it wasn’t there.

The realization made you feel naked all over again.

You didn’t look back. You didn’t acknowledge him. You didn’t let your eyes flicker in his direction, because you knew men like Barrón noticed that kind of thing. So you pretended he didn’t exist, even as the presence of him pressed in on you from all sides. 

You walked steadily, evenly, as if you weren’t acutely aware of every shadow, and every reflection in the glass. Every second stretching too long for your comfort.

You told yourself to keep going. You told yourself to breathe.

If Ramon wanted you dead it would have happened by now… at least that’s what you told yourself. 

And all the while, you could feel Barron’s his eyes on your back. 

You rushed inside the building, threw cash at the receptionist and took your bag of food ignoring her confused expression. 

You excited out the back and hopped across the alley way before turning left and retuning back onto your main street further up the road hoping to have lost him.

You snuck a glance behind you, and he just gave you a little nod letting you know he was still watching. 

Shit.

You jogged across the street dodging a moped as you ran back to your door just wanting to be in a defendable space. You also wanted your gun. 

When you climbed the stairs you searched for your keys, fumbling for the right one, before shakily pushing the right one it into the key hole. 

When you let yourself back inside, you shut the door behind you locking it, and forced down a deep breath. 

You had to tell Daniel. This had gone too far.

He needed to know you were in danger. 

Peeling yourself from the door, you rushed to the kitchen and threw the bag of food onto the counter haphazardly before reaching for the landline with shaking hands. 

A quiet shuffling sound caught your attention. 

You froze in place reaching for the phone. 

You continued to listen but there was nothing. 

“Princesa.”

Your blood ran cold.

No.

Very slowly, you turned, praying you were hallucinating. 

Ramón Arellano sat in the leather chair by the window like he belonged there.

One arm draped over the armrest. Long legs stretched out. The city lights cut across his face, sharp and predatory, catching the gleam in his eyes as they tracked your every move.

You instinctually reached for your gun.

Your belt was empty.

“Looking for this?” he asked.

He stood, lifting your weapon with two fingers and giving it a lazy tilt, like it was a toy. It looked so small in his hands. 

You were scared. You reached a new low of vulnerability. Standing before him now, he seemed so visceral. He radiated power and strength now that he wasn’t under the influence of pulse. He was in complete control of himself again and it frightened you to your core.

You felt like a deer in the jaws of a predator, waiting for him to snap your silly little neck. 

Standing in your own apartment was the deadliest man in the city, holding your only real defense in his hand.

He looked… different than the warehouse.

He was cleaned up now. His hair long and wavy. His designer shirt unbutton half way showing off his muscular chest. Those glistening gold chains around his neck along with his wrist watch like a reminder of his influence. He prowled through your living room like a jaguar. 

“What do you want?” Your voice shook despite your best effort. You were fighting to keep your heart from giving out.

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, his gaze moved slowly over your apartment, the couch, the kitchen, the half-unpacked boxes. His mouth twitched. 

“Where have you been?” he asked running a hand over your mantel turning his back to you.

“What?”

“You haven’t been here,” he said flatly looking at your photo frames. 

“You’ve been watching me?” you asked.

“Of course.” He said shamelessly like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Your heart thumped in your chest. You felt like you were going to faint. Nothing felt real anymore. There’s no way Ramon Arellano was in your apartment right now. You forced yourself to suck in oxygen trying to not faint.

Your heart slammed in your chest. “I thought you’d send one of your boys after me.”

“I wanted to see you myself.” He studied your figure, “Where were you?” He repeated. 

You studied his lax posture. He raised a brow watching you shift your weight with anxiety.

 You sighed, “I was at the station.” 

“For five days?”

“It’s been crazy no thanks to you.” You accused.

He took a step toward you.

You backed up into the kitchen, pulse roaring in your ears. You had imagined this confrontation a million times but never did you think it would be like this. Not here.

“And I wasn’t wrong.” You gestured to him, he in fact did come after you. Your anger was now clawing through the fear, “So what do you want? You want to kill me? Just get it over with—” 

“I don’t want to kill you.”

His voice cut through yours calmly. 

Another step.

“But I can’t just let you go.” 

“Why?” You swallowed hard. “Is it the money? I didn’t touch it. Take it back.”

A faint smirk. Almost amused. 

“It’s not the money.”

He set your gun down on the table slow, and deliberately, never breaking eye contact with you. Then he kept coming, backing you toward the pantry until the door pressed cold against your spine.

“I didn’t tell anyone,” you said quickly. Feeling your nerves sore as he gained even more space between you two,  “I swear.”

“I know.”

He lifted a hand, stopping just short of touching you. Close enough that you felt his heat.

You watched in horrified fascination as he fought the desire to touch you. Looking from his hand to his wild eyes, you noticed they too were dark circled. Mirroring your own. 

He looked at you with an intensity you’ve never experienced before from a human being. 

His hand then went to your chin tilting your head up as he observed you closely like you were the most confusing, fascinating thing he’d ever laid eyes on.

“You’re not sleeping.” He stated. 

You blinked, “no.” 

He hummed. 

He released your chin and took a step back allowing you to suck down a deep breath. 

His cologne slitted over your senses making you shiver. The familiarity of it made you tremble. That tiredness in your body ached to something deeper. Something like yearning. His proximity was hypnotic. 

You didn’t understand it, but your body betrayed you with a little warming heart beat in your core. 

He huffed through his nose. 

You looked up at him, “Why are you here Arellano?” 

He didn’t answer right away. 

He pursed his lips like he was trying to understand that question himself. 

Then he relaxed. He closed his eyes and took a calming breath before looking at you. 

“Something has changed,” His tone was one of frustration, “Something happened in that supply house. I haven’t been able to get you out of my head princesa. I smell you on me —my clothes.” This was the most uncontrolled you’ve ever seen him, but he quickly reeled it in. He looked at you. 

“You can’t sleep.” You said matter of factly. His eyes were a dead give away. They looked too sunken from tirelessness. 

He just stared. Clearly you both were having a similar reaction in the aftermath. 

“So you came here.” You wanted to run your hands over the fine silk of his shirt but thought best not to, “For me?” 

“I came but you weren’t here.” He growled lowly, “Esos putos policías te me están quitando.”

You gasped a breath. 

He looked unwell. Ragged. 

You watched him as he took you in, his hands fisting at his sides as he fought for control.

“How did you find me.” You asked needing at least that answer. 

“You’re one of three women in your department.” He said, “And when you were begging for me on the floor of that warehouse, I searched you and found your badge.” 

Your face warmed with embarrassment. 

You could vaguely remember that moment. You had tried to pull him to you by his chains when he had flipped out as reared back one last time before succumbing to the drug induced urges not long after, the rest was kind of a blur. 

You shook your head. None of this was real. How the fuck could it be?

Looking at him you shook your head, “Ramon you can’t be here.” You said looking past him and into your apartment. Someone could have seen him. He’s not exactly the type to blend in.

You tried to walk away from him but his arm shot out wrapping around yours keeping you against the pantry door. 

The reactions as almost immediate. Your entire body suddenly shivered and vibrated with an unfamiliar warmth. His touch. It felt like fire. 

His eyes were glued to his hand touching your skin. 

The you both looked up, gazing at each other. You inhaled—he felt it too. 

“I need you.” He said matter of factly. There wasn’t much feeling behind it, he just sounded like a junkie needing his fix. 

“Arellano.” You shook your head, but he didn’t let you go. 

Instead he stepped forwards, pinning you back to the pantry door. He neared this time, crowding your space leaving little between you, him, and the door. You whimpered quietly feeling the warmth of him consume you. 

That damn scent permeated the air making you feel like you were under some kind of deep seduction spell. Your body yearned for his touch. It was dark and confusing and frankly very overwhelming. 

“You have to go.” Whispered breaths fanned over his neck as you breathed him in.

He just shook his head, eyes training on your lips, “I go where I please.” 

You chewed your lip as his hands lightly trailed over your arms. You forced yourself to snap out of this weird little trance and you tried your best to push him away from you. He was so much bigger though and stood his ground not letting you have an inch. 

“Please Arellano!” You pleaded, “You have to go. I’m going to loose my job. My partner—“

“Your partner?” The word came out slow. Measured.

The sensation of his possession washed over you making your stomach drop. 

“Yes.” You stood your ground, “My partner. He’s already noticed something is off. He’s going to put the pieces together. I’ve already lied to him more than I’d like ever wanted to.” 

“Ramirez right?” He said making you blink in disbelief. 

Your blood ran cold for a second time tonight. 

He studied your frightened reaction liking the control he had over you. His hand then traveled up your arm, to your neck, then your chin. He gripped it slightly, tilting your lips up to brush up against his own. 

“Do you like him princesa?” 

Was he jealous? 

You swallowed nervously, “not like that.” 

“And what would Officer Daniel Ramirez think if he saw you right now.” His breath tickled your mouth as he stared down at your lips. 

No. He was territorial. 

Your chest tightened realizing he viewed you like some sort of possession to own. He wanted you to admit his owner ship over you in his weird Ramon way. 

Your hands went up to Ramon’s chest pressing firmly against him desperate to feel some sort of control in this situation, “He’d think I was a traitor.” You said flatly. The truth hurt to admit.

That made him smile. A cruel predatory smile. 

The beast was satisfied. 

He raised a brow and rubbed his thumb along your lower lip, opening it just enough. 

He raised a questioning brow, “And are you—a traitor?” 

You whimpered, “I don’t want to be.” 

He hummed at your admission. 

His knee slotted between your legs making you shift as a jolt of pleasure shot through you from the contact. 

You were pinned now. Completely at his mercy. 

He had you right where he wanted you, and frankly in this moment you didn’t want to be anywhere else. 

It was strange craving such a monster. 

But with his scent this strong, and his warmth so close, you couldn’t seem to get your mind to recall why you hated him so much. 

“What did you lie to him about, hmm?” He said lowly. His hand wrapped around your neck, not quite squeezing yet, but like a solid anchor, “The drugs?” He leaned forwards brushing his lips against yourself, “How little you resisted?” He smirked arrogantly, “Or how you let a Narco fuck you on your back, like a pathetic whore.” 

Your breathing caught for just a moment. 

And then—just like that—you snapped.

With anger flashing hot and sudden, and before your brain could even bother to catch up, your hand was already moving. 

The slap landed hard, loud enough to echo off the walls, the sting of it shooting up your arm.

His head whipped to the side.

The silence afterward was deafening.

Your hand flew to your mouth as the reality of what you’d just done crashed into you all at once. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

Your eyes went wide as you watched him turn back slowly, fingers brushing over the spot on his cheek where you’d hit him. The look on his face was utter disbelief. 

“I—I—” you tried, but the words weren’t coming to you.

He studied you for a long, dangerous second, expression unreadable. Your pulse hammered so hard you were sure he could feel it. You were suddenly, painfully aware of how small the space was. How close he was. How he was certainly going to gut you like a fish for that. 

Then he took a single step back, just enough to really look at you.

You stayed pressed to the pantry door, heart racing, bracing for whatever came next

Then without a word, he surged forwards, wrapping an unforgiving hand around your neck and crashing his lips to yours. 

Your head slammed back into the pantry painfully as Ramón aggressively surged forward, the force of it knocking the breath from your lungs. His hand came up fast, lacing into your hair keeping you totally under his control as he ravished your mouth.

His mouth crashed into yours with a violence that stole any coherent thought you could have tried to muster, all teeth and heat and pent-up fury. It was raw, claiming, and fueled by the shock of your little stunt and the burn of your hand against his face.

You tasted him—sharp, familiar, dangerous—and the pathetic little sound you made only spurred him on. His grip tightened on your hair as his other hand pushed into the fabric of your clothes as if grounding himself. He didn’t give you time to think. Didn’t give you space to pull away. His mouth moved against yours with brutal intensity, slow one second, crushing the next, like he couldn’t decide whether to savor you or devour you. He was going absolutely mad. 

Then, just as suddenly, he broke it.

Foreheads pressed together, breath mingling, his chest rising and falling hard against yours. You could feel the tremor in him now. His jaw was clenched, eyes dark and wild, like he was fighting himself as much as he was fighting you.

Ramon couldn’t find the control anymore…

Without a word, he leaned forwards and bent you over his shoulder before lifting you, and carrying you out of the kitchen and down the hall of your apartment towards your bedroom. 

Of course he knew where it was. 

He kicked open the door letting it slam into the dresser not giving two shits as he threw you like you weighed nothing towards your bed. 

You yelped as you hit the mattress with a bounce. He was on you in a second with a fire like you hadn’t ever seen before. 

“R-Ramon-“ You tried to get the apology out, but he had his lips on you again clearly not interested in hearing it. 

You realized the slap had made him even more feral as he tore away at your clothes like he had that night high as fuck on pulse. 

The man was animalistic. 

A true jaguar.

He yanked your pants off testing the strength of the seams, and leaned down to snap your panties off like a thread. 

Ramon had every intention to keep seeing you, you realized. 

The drug had made him addicted. 

Addicted to whatever the hell this was. 

He wasted no time shoving your legs apart and diving in with his mouth. There was no lead up, he needed you on his tongue and he needed you now. 

You squirmed up the bed as he latched on with so much suction you were panting from the sudden intense stimulation. 

You pushed and struggled in the sheets trying to get your bearings but he was a little too good at eating making your brain instantly go to mush.

You cried out feeling his hot tongue on your leaking opening. Your hands went straight to his hair as he licked and sucked with ferocity. 

You thrashed and flailed with the intensity of it all. 

He had you on the brink of screaming with his no mercy approach as he pinned your hips down not giving you an inch. 

“Ramon!” You cried out feeling your orgasm approaching rapidly. 

He just latched on harder refusing to let you go. 

He wanted to watch you fall apart. 

He needed it. 

Just as quickly as it it had started, it came to an end. 

You came hard as he licked up your orgasm ignoring the way you flinched from overstimulation. 

You quickly realized Ramon was one for taking what he wanted, and right now he wanted you. 

The second he let you go, he started kissing up your thigh giving you a moment to recover. 

You panted heavily but wanted to feel him against you. He had too much clothing on.

You gave him on hard shove making him look at you annoyed that you stopped him. 

With the given space, you launched forwards grabbing his shirt and yanked at the buttons forcing it off of him like it was the most offensive thing you’d ever seen. 

He got the picture. 

He let you work your way down his shirt while he tugged his belt loose and moved to undo his pants. 

You backed up for just a moment, watching him push the material of his fancy dress pants down while you yanked your shirt up and over your head throwing it somewhere in your room. You unfastened your bra letting it slide from your shoulders and watched as Ramon’s eyes turned impossibly darker. 

He kicked off his pants leaving the two of you completely bare as he prowled towards you. 

You laid back letting him surround you as he nudged your legs back apart and slotted himself between them. He gripped your hips sliding you even closer to him letting his cock slide through your dampness making you both let out a sigh. 

He rutted experimentally against you rubbing your clit deliciously. 

You let out a wanton whine wishing to feel more of him but you knew better than to make demands. 

Luckily it seemed he was as desperate as you and didn’t waste much more time before he lined himself up and sunk into you. 

He sighed finally feeling the relief he’s been craving for weeks now. 

He bucked up into making you yelp not giving you near nay time to readjust to his size and thickness. He was eager, and he needed this almost as badly as he needed oxygen. 

His little cop. 

All laid out for him again. 

You mewled and rolled your hips in time with his thrusts absolutely living for how deep and full he made you feel. 

It felt like home. 

This was what you had been missing all these nights. He never shied away from wrapping around you like a bear. Just like that night in the warehouse, he surrounded you. His large, strong hands grabbed, and squeezed, and massaged every part of you bringing you closer and closer to the edge. 

You nuzzled your nose into his neck breathing him in, feeling the scent relax all your muscles. 

He thrust with a force that had you bouncing up and down the mattress sliding on his cock babbling nonsense as he brought a hand down to rub your needy pussy. You cried out into the room digging your nails into his tanned skin as the pleasure increased and the pressure grew in your core. 

“Thats it’ mamita.” He breathed into your skin, “Doing so good for me, ya?” 

He seemed to be stroking just the right spot that sent you plummeting into blissful oblivion. Your entire body tensed and spasmed around him. 

“Mmm.” He hummed, “Yes. Good girl.” He basked in your pleasure feeling you become impossibly tight around him making him stutter in his thrusts. 

He sat back on his heels grabbing the back of your knees, pushing them up until they nearly hit your chest. You screamed feeling him deeper than you have ever before. This angle was new to you and you felt impossibly full as he slid effortlessly inside you. You couldn’t help but squirm feeling overwhelmed like you might be forced to come again too soon. You tried holding onto his legs trying to control some of the movement but it was impossible. 

“Fuck.” He bit out pushing as deep as possible, ignoring your cries, as he suddenly spilled himself in the deepest part of your womb. 

He continued his short thrusts chasing the little shocks of pleasure before he went lax. 

He released your legs letting them flop to your sides before he leaned forwards nearly crushing you, keeping himself buried deep inside your warmth. 

You twitched with every little micro movement he made, making you feel like it was prolonging your high. 

When he felt you struggling to breathe, he lifted himself up with a huff and rolled over onto his side. 

You took a deep breath staring up at the ceiling trying to process what the hell just happened. 

You just had sex with Ramon Arellano-Felix—again.

This time there were no drugs involved. 

You urged yourself to try to feel something, but it was just blankness. 

The only thing that kept coming up was one burning question. 

You turned your head and looked at Ramon’s profile as he also stared up at the ceiling trying to process everything that had just transpired. 

“Why me?” You were unable to hold the question in any longer, “Aren’t you supposed to stay far away from people like me?” 

He didn’t look away from the ceiling, “I don’t know.” 

“You’re making my life difficult.” You said looking at his sharp features. He really was beautiful, “Everything was so simple before this.” 

“How?” 

“I just clocked into work, I wrote traffic tickets, I got the bad guy.” You said plainly, “Now I have a narco in my bed.” 

He couldn’t help the smugness in his lip. 

You shook your head. “I should be arresting you, but instead you’re in my bed… naked.”

He smirked openly now, “Arresting me?” He crawled on top of you looking down at you with those same dark intense eyes, “You want me in cuffs that bad, mamita? All you have to do is ask.”

You huffed. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Sure, princesa.” He squeezed your hips, possessive, deliberate.

You shoved him at him. “I’m serious.”

He sat up, “Well, you’re off for the weekend, yeah?” He leaned over to the discarded clothes on the bed and pulled out a tiny envelope, holding it between his fingers like bait.

You sat up. “Is this what I think it is?”

He nodded. The hot pink powder inside was unmistakable.

“Arellano… I am not doing drugs with you.” You put it down. “I just spent the whole week busting my ass trying to get rid of this shit.” You looked at him like he was actually insane.

He clicked his tongue. “Relax.”

“No.”

“You’re working too much,” he said flatly. “For nothing.”

That made you pause. Of course he saw it that way.

“I’ve seen where you live,” he continued, unapologetic. “This sad little apartment. The lock that barely works. No food unless it comes out of a paper bag.”

Your jaw clenched, “You broke my lock.”

“I could fix all of this,” he said. “You wouldn’t ever have to lift a finger ever agin. Money like mine doesn’t run out. You’d eat better. Sleep better. Stop pretending you actually like struggling like this.”

“And what,” you asked coolly, “would I be to you?”

He shrugged. “Taken care of.”

You laughed once, sharp. “I’ve seen how your brother takes care of his wife.”

His eyes narrowed.

“And the other men like him,” you went on. “Big houses. Expensive clothes. Locked doors.” You met his gaze. “They’re not wives. They’re pets. Decorated and owned.”

“That’s not—”

“That’s exactly what it is,” you cut in. “Women who smile when they’re told. Who stay where they’re put.”

His expression hardened, charm gone now.

“You’d be safe,” he snapped. “You’d never want for anything.”

“I’d be trapped,” you shot back. “In silk instead of chains. You just want me in proximity like a fucking toy.”

Silence stretched.

“You’d really rather keep living like this,” he said, incredulous, “than let someone like me handle things, to take care of you?”

“Yes.”

He stared at you, frustration burning hot now — not desire, not affection. 

His control denied.

“You’re really going to fight me,” he said slowly.

“Every minute.”

He exhaled through his nose, a harsh sound, then shoved the envelope away.

“Do you know how many woman would kill for me to take them away,” he said, “from this.” He looked around at your humble bedroom.

You raised a brow. “Then ask them then.” 

He was quiet for a long moment after that.

Not thinking about you — calculating. Clearly luxury wasn’t going to get you to fold. It was like in that moment he finally saw you for who you are. He may be a jaguar, but you’re a tiger. Two hot heads sizing the other up. 

You’re not the domesticating type. 

“You’re right,” he said finally. “You’d never play pet.”

You didn’t respond.

But he leaned forwards crowding your space once again. You had no choice but to lean back as he pushed forwards. His eyes trailed down your nose to your lips, then your neck, then you’re heaving breasts. 

“I could give you everything you could ever want,” he went on, dragging his finger over the swell of your tit before circling your nipple. “But what you really want is to be the good guy.” His tone became almost mocking, “You want to stop the big bad Narcos, don’t you mamita?” 

His mouth twitched. Not a smile. Something closer to acceptance.

“So how about this.” He said leaning forwards to lick a hot stripe up your hardening nipple. You sucked in a breath feeling that familiar heat rise inside you again. 

He continued, “I have some very, very bad men in my way, and I’ll tell you where they are and when. I’ll even play your informant—“ 

“And what do you want in exchange for this information.” You breathed heavily as his lips placed wet hot kissed up your neck before he sucked a mark into your neck. 

Your heart sped up feeling his hand begin a path to the apex of your thighs. 

“You.”