#pedro fics

Moving to a new country two weeks before your birthday, which also happens to be Christmas Eve, is not ideal. You moved to Colombia from Miami after a promotion, earning a spot on the elite team working to catch Pablo Escobar. 

The last two weeks have been a whirlwind, trying to catch up on all the facts of the case. You have to learn every sicario by sight and all of their names, aliases, and frequent hang outs. You have to learn about everything Escobar has done in Colombia, all the cartels and how they connect, it’s all extremely exhausting and time consuming. 

Which is why you have no friends yet, unless you count your new partners Javier Peña and Steve Murphy. Which you don’t. You barely know them, and from what you’ve seen so far, Peña is an asshole. Steve might be okay, but you just haven’t had time to get to know him yet. 

You take off your windbreaker and hang it on the back of your chair. It’s kind of ridiculous that you have to work on Christmas Eve, but there’s no rest for the wicked and therefore no rest for you either. You sit down and open the first file on your desk, immediately getting down to business without so much as a greeting for your partners. 

A couple hours into the work day, a shadow darkens your desk. “What do you want, Peña?” 

“God damn, hermosa. Touchy today? I brought you a coffee.” Peña sets the cup of lukewarm black slop on your desk and leans further into your space, peeking at the files you’re reading. 

“Yes, actually. Did you need something or did you just come over here to bother me?” 

“I just came over here to compliment your nails, actually,” he takes your hand in his, inspecting your nails, and then looks into your eyes. “I like the color. Suits you.” 

You feel heat rise to your cheeks. Peña is cute. Gorgeous, really, but you don’t make a habit of flirting with your coworkers. “Thanks… They were my birthday gift to myself.” You tug your hand away from him and place it in your lap. 

“It’s your birthday?” He asks, still leaning much too far into your personal space. You nod and look back down at the file. 

“I have to get back to work now,” you almost whisper to him, all your bitter snark from earlier replaced by a sense of melancholy. There’s not a soul in this entire country who knows it’s your birthday today. Aside from Javier, now, you guess. Javier lingers for another moment before pushing off your desk and leaving you to your work. 

You’re starting to pack up for the day when Peña comes up to your desk again, sitting on the corner. 

 “So what are your plans tonight?” he asks. 

“Huh?” You don’t have any plans. A phone call from your friend in Miami and a bottle of Chilean wine maybe. 

“Your plans? For your birthday?” 

“Oh. I don’t have any. Don’t really know anyone yet so…” you trail off. You feel kind of pathetic, even though you know it’s completely reasonable to not have a group of friends yet. 

“Me and Murphy could take you out?” 

“Oh um–”

“Actually, Jav,”  Steve calls out from his desk. “Me and Connie have plans tonight. Christmas Eve and all,” he gives you an apologetic look. 

“It’s fine really. I’m gonna have a nice relaxing night in. Thanks though.” You put on the best smile you can and head for the door. 

You hang up the phone after your short call with your friend. It’s expensive to call long distance, but she stayed on with you as long as she could. She told you all about her new boyfriend and that everyone had wished you a Happy Birthday and Happy Holidays. You’re grateful she didn’t ask about your job or your love life. 

As you pop the cork on a bottle of wine, there’s a knock on your door. You stare at the door questioningly, as if it will tell you who’s there. Who on earth could be knocking at your door at 8pm on Christmas Eve? 

You grab your gun and sneak over to the door, peeking through the peephole. Broad shoulders and a dark head of hair are all you can make out through the tiny lens. Javier? You set your gun on the side table and pull open the door. 

“Peña? What are you doing here?” 

He turns around and holds his hands out to you. “Brought you something.” He’s holding a birthday cake, clearly store bought, decorated with a generic “Feliz cumpleaños” scrawled on top. A bright smile lights up your face. 

“Oh Javi, you didn’t have to!” 

“I wanted to. You gonna invite me in for some cake?” He raises his eyebrows at you. 

“Oh! Yeah sure. Come in!” You step to the side to let him through and close and lock the door behind him. “Sorry about the mess. I’m not fully unpacked yet.” 

“I’ve been here for 7 years and I’m not fully unpacked. It’s fine.” Javi reassures you. He sets the cake down on your kitchen counter and starts rifling around for plates and silverware. 

“I can do that,” you try to move him out of the way, but he’s having none of it. 

“No, it’s your birthday. Let me. You pour yourself a glass of wine and go sit on the couch.” 

“Fine… thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.” 

You grab a couple glasses and the bottle of wine and carry it to the living room with you. You’re kind of shocked he’s here. He’s always flirty in the office, but he’s like that with everyone. He’s not what you’d call friendly otherwise. Maybe he just feels bad for you. 

Javier drops down onto the couch beside you holding two plates with hefty slices of chocolate cake. He hands you one of the plates and a fork. “Happy birthday. I’m not going to make you do the whole candle thing.”

“Thank you, Javier. This is really, really nice.” You feel like you might cry. It’s just cake, but you felt so alone, and it’s like he really saw you. He saw through whatever exterior shell you were wearing and decided to try to make your day better. 

“Just Javi is fine. And it’s not a big deal, really. You deserve something sweet on your birthday,” he says looking down at the cake in his hands.

“It is to me. A big deal, I mean,” you say softly before taking a bite of the cake. It’s nothing special, just a plain chocolate cake, but it means so much to you. 

You and Javier, Javi, chat about where you’re from and how you came to work for the DEA. You tell him about living in Miami, about the promotion that brought you here. You finish the bottle of wine and a couple more pieces of cake and the conversation doesn’t stop for a long time.

Late in the evening, you finish a story about your 6th birthday, one your aunt always told to the whole family every single year at your birthday dinner. He’s sitting close to you, his thigh pressed against yours despite there being plenty of room on the couch to sit without touching. It makes your heart flutter a little. 

You don’t know if it’s the wine or what, but the little crush you have on him is getting pretty hard to ignore. Javi smirks at you, reaches up, and brushes his thumb over the corner of your lip. 

“Got a little icing there, cariño,” he says, his voice lower and huskier than it has been all night. He brings the icing smeared thumb to his mouth and sucks it between his lips. Your eyes track the movement, pupils blowing wide. He really is pretty. 

You feel yourself lean in toward him, almost unconsciously chasing that thumb to his mouth. He brings his hand up to your cheek and searches your eyes for a moment. He must see what he was looking for because he pulls you closer and presses his lips to yours. 

His lips are soft, warm, gentle on yours. You grab his face in your hands, not wanting him to pull away yet. He slips his tongue along the seam of your lips and you part them, letting him in. You’re not sure who makes the move, but slowly, your back is lowered to the couch, Javi a comfortable weight on top of you. Your hands explore his broad shoulders, the muscles of his back, his trim waist, as he plunders your mouth with his tongue. 

“Can I touch you?” He rasps against your lips. 

“You already are,” you giggle. “Sorry. Yes, Javi.” 

He huffs a laugh into your mouth and slips a hand into your lounge pants, fingers finding your dripping seam. “Wet for me already, hermosa?” 

Your cheeks heat up in slight embarrassment, but you nod. You’re soaked just from kissing him. By the feel of him against your thigh, he’s not better off. He pushes two fingers inside you and presses his lips back to yours. You gasp into his mouth, hands fisting in the back of his shirt. 

His fingers immediately find the spongy spot deep in your core. He curls them, dragging the pads of his fingers along your g-spot with every pump of them inside you. You cling tightly to him, burying your face in his shoulder. 

“Come for me, baby.” 

Your body responds to his command instantly, the tension in your belly releasing into waves of pleasure. Your cunt flutters around his fingers and you whine into his neck as he works you through it. You collapse back onto the couch, and he wastes no time dragging your pants off you. 

You hear the clink of his belt opening, the sound of it hitting the floor. You sit up on your elbows to watch him as he strips off the rest of his clothes. You bite your lip, drinking in the sight of the gorgeous man before you. 

He takes your hands in his and pulls you to your feet before pulling your tank top off you. “Shit, hermosa,” he whispers almost reverently as he takes one of your tits in his large hand, rolling the nipple between two fingers. “Gorgeous.” 

 He kisses you again, wrapping his strong arms around your body and pushing his chest flush with yours. “Bedroom, cariño?” 

You walk him back to your room, barely separating your lips from his for the entire journey. You fall back on your bed and he follows, settling between your legs. His lips drag down your jaw line to your neck as he lines himself up with your entrance. Javi sucks a mark just below your collarbone as he slowly thrusts inside you. 

You wrap your legs around his hips and pull him deeper into you, whining at the stretch. “Fuck, Javi.” 

“Working on it, cariño,” he teases as he bottoms out inside you. He pushes himself up on his elbows and stares into your eyes as he pulls out and thrusts back in smoothly. Your mouth falls open, a little huff spilling out as he bottoms out again. He feels so fucking good inside you. 

Javi sets a steady pace, thrusting into you hard and slow, eyes never leaving yours. When your eyes flutter shut and your back starts to arch in pleasure, he slips his arm under your back, pulling your hips higher on his thighs. The new angle is everything. You gasp out a moan every time his cock punches deep inside you.

Javi is everything in this moment. Your world narrowed to the feeling of his cock pounding into you at that same maddeningly slow, hard rhythm. You feel yourself tightening around him, feel a coil winding in your belly tighter and tighter. 

Javi’s lips find yours again with a kiss that’s more a clash of teeth and tongues than anything as you come hard on his cock. Javi lets out a low groan into your mouth at the way you squeeze him. He thrusts into you a few more times, fucking you through your high, before he quickly pulls out and spills all over your belly. 

He rests his forehead on yours for a moment, catching his breath. He kisses you deeply one more time before falling to the bed beside you. Javi pulls you into his arms, not paying any mind to the mess he made on your stomach. He holds you close, kissing the top of your head. 

“Happy Birthday, cariño.”

Din stared at Marathel.  “When do we …” 

“When do we leave?” 

Din was unable to speak.  Marathel could hear his breathing in the helmet as he continued to stare at her, and she knew that he normally took care to not let his breathing be heard.  I have broken him, she thought.  I have destroyed his soul, set it afire, burned away any care or affection he could ever have for me, and that is as it should be, but I am sorry I had to hurt him so to do it. 

Din swallowed the bile that had risen again in his throat, burning his sinuses.  I can’t, I can’t.  Her words seemed to have filled him with a poison that threatened to burn him down to nothing.  Never, never, had he heard of such an existence as hers. Anyone else would have died.  Anyone else would have killed themselves — should have killed themselves.  And she tried, oh she tried, but whatever oversaw this horrible universe, be it the Force, or Frith, or a cruel Maker and Destroyer of Worlds, kept her alive. Alive and beautiful and smart and talented and kind, despite being filled with pain and shame and self-loathing and guilt.  And love, for Frith’s sake, love, love for Grogu and even for him, because she’d had to love him to empty out her guts like this to him, to share her agony in the hopes of …  

“Bounty Hunter?” 

He looked back up at Marathel, and there was concern in her voice and on her face, concern for him; she’d just described how she’d survived the most horrific existence possible, and she was concerned for him?   

As he stared at her, one part of his mind continued the litany of I can’t I can’t, but another part of his mind was desperately trying to remind him that he loved her and nothing else mattered. 

But it did. 

It did matter. 

It mattered to him that she hated his Creed.  His Creed, the one thing that some days kept him going, that made his own life worthwhile.  It mattered to him that she believed her Hold and his covert were alike.  It mattered to him that she believed his Creed worked at the expense of others. It mattered that she believed he’d used his Creed to hurt her.  It mattered that she believed that her … birth circumstances made a difference in his feelings for her. 

It mattered, because as much as he would hate to admit it, there was the possibility that she could be right. 

Marathel watched Din’s gloved hands clench into fists.  She was suddenly struck with horrible anxiety; she was reminded of her dream — the Bishop disguised as Din, stalking towards her with the intent to do her harm.  It frightened her to see those fists, because she had just spent however long telling him the most disgusting and degrading things, and then she had the audacity to make a comparison of her circumstances to his Creed, to a man whose hands could kill her as easily as caress her.  That was an unforgivable thing that she did.  And she did it because … to her it was the truth.  Her truth.  And right now, that was the only truth she cared about. 

Marathel heard him swallow and take a shaky breath, but he still said nothing, and his visor pointed towards a point over and beyond her shoulder.  She leaned forward, and softly said, “Din?” 

“I can’t,” he softly uttered, shaking his head. 

Marathel nodded, and leaned back against the wall, and she went back to looking at the night sky as Din turned and walked out of the room. 

As he left, he practically crashed into Cobb, who grabbed him by the wrists, muttering, “No, you don’t … don’t you dare …” 

“Leave off, Cobb …” hissed Din as he worked to twist his hands away.  He almost succeeded, but he was distracted and upset, and Cobb got a tight hold of him again.  

“Don’t you fucking dare walk away from her!  She needs you right now!” 

Looking past Cobb’s shoulder, Din could see a weeping Silnima, curled against the wall.  Din stopped struggling.  “I can’t, Cobb.” 

“You better, if you love her like you say you do,” replied Cobb.  He released Din’s hands.  Din took a step back.  He looked at Cobb for a moment, and then he turned and continued down the corridor.  Cobb sighed deeply.  Silnima had paused her crying to see Din walk away, and she was wracked with fresh sobs. 

Down in the courtyard, ten feet below Marathel’s window, Fennec and Boba sat on the hard-packed ground.  Fennec leaned back against Boba, and his arms, wrapped around her, gave her another squeeze.  “I hate it when I’m right,” muttered Fennec, and Boba said nothing, but kissed the top of her head. 

Silnima went to the kitchen to cry in private.  Cobb stood just outside Marathel’s room, watching her watch the sky.  She’s too quiet, too still.  She only lost it a little there, the rest will go soon, and I think it will be like a Sandcrawler exploding. 

Cobb walked up to Marathel, and reached up to gently pull on her arm and her leg.  “No, don’t,” she said, twisting away, but he kept pulling at her.  “You shouldn’t be touching me,” muttered Marathel. 

“You ain’t got no cooties, now come down here.”  He gave her another tug, and she let him lift her down from the windowsill.  He pulled the chair aside to pick up her blanket, and he wrapped her tightly in it.  As Cobb sat back down, he hauled her onto his lap, picking up her feet to tuck them at his hip.  Marathel sat stiffly in his arms, looking down at him.  Cobb looked up at her, and he placed his hands on her cheeks, his thumbs softly stroking the hair at her temples.  He whispered, “I’m so sorry, honey.” His warm hazel eyes bored into her silver ones as he continued to stroke her hair, and finally her eyes filled with tears, and she wilted against him, into his arms, and her head fell to his shoulder with a wail. 

Din walked all the way to the landing tunnel, straight to the landing gear of the Crest.  He stepped behind the landing gear, in darkness and out of sight, stripped off his helmet, and vomited into the sand. Twice.  He dry-heaved, spit, and swallowed, but the sickness was still inside, an insidious toxic feeling.  Tears threatened, but he kept them back by sheer force of will and replaced his helmet.  His Creed.  His strength, his salvation.  He walked around to the side of the ship and slapped the ramp control. 

Din walked up into his ship, his mind whirling.  He couldn’t go into his tiny quarters because that was where she had lain, dying.  He couldn’t go into the cockpit because he’d dreamed of her up there.  He couldn’t go into the fresher because he’d masturbated to thoughts of her in there.  Her blood had been tracked over every square inch of this ship.  Her blood was in the metal that made his helmet.  His Creed was now tainted by her. 

Marathel.   

Never had another person uprooted Din’s life in such a volatile manner.  He had lost both his parents, he had been adopted into a warrior religion, he had lost his mentor, he had gained… well, a son.  He was a murderer, an assassin, a mercenary, a bounty hunter, and now an ersatz father to a little green Jedi, which, in the scheme of things, should have been enough excitement.   

But no, he had to get tangled up with a woman, and not just a woman, this woman.  Not another Mandalorian, not another mercenary (although, to be fair, Xi’an had turned him off from ever attempting that again), not even the quiet and lovely Omera.  A Mandalorian — even one from another sect — would be understanding of his Creed.  At least Omera had been respectful as she questioned his Creed.  To hear Marathel say she didn’t give a shit about it upset him greatly.  How dare she?  How dare she attack the core of who I am?  How could she be that cruel?   

He pulled off his helmet and dropped it on the floor.  He kicked the crate into the center of the floor — near the divot he had placed there — and sat, leaning over, his elbows on his knees.  His misery was too familiar; it was the same as when he first realized what the Dilimgau was, how it had been used.  He thought he might howl now as he had then, but instead, no sound left his lips other than the breath from the bottoms of his lungs.  He hugged himself tightly to keep his chest from exploding open with the pain.   

Why are you crying, son? 

I can’t, Father. 

What’s got your thermals in a twist, kid? 

I can’t, buir. 

And he couldn’t. He couldn’t fathom how to wrap his head around everything he had just heard. He was an engineer’s son, although he was a bounty hunter and an assassin, a murderer and a criminal. He still had the mind of an engineer, and he wanted so much to fix this, and he had no idea how.  

How do I find the root cause of this kind of pain?  How do I compartmentalize her suffering?  Her cruel words to me?  Her background, the fact that she’s …  

He couldn’t bring his mind to form the words, the truth about her that he’d suspected yet not allowed himself to believe about her familial relationship with the Bishop.  The man who was her father, her grandfather, going back for who knew how many generations, was also supposed to be her … 

Don’t say lover, don’t even think it!  

… sexual partner and the father of her children.  That was her purpose in life, to be an incubator for his progeny.   

Thank Frith she was sterile.  That happened, he’d heard, in clans such as hers, as if nature abhorred the practice and made it self-destruct.  It was taboo among the Mandalorians, obviously, but very taken especially seriously in his covert, which was small and only had a few families.  Relationships were severed once consanguinity was discovered, and he’d heard of pregnancies being terminated on the rare occasion it occurred.  It was another reason that bringing in foundlings was such an honored tradition, although this particular reason was not spoken out loud. 

But there had been one in his covert.  It wasn’t found out until the child was half-grown and near the age of taking the helmet.  Two young men had finally revealed that the child’s mother, their blood aunt, had molested and abused them when they were younger, and this child was the result.   

The mother and child were drummed out of the covert, her helmet confiscated, stripped of her Mandalorian heritage.  Din had struggled with whether he would feel sorry for the child or be disgusted by its existence.  He had asked his buir about his conflict, and he had responded that all three of the children deserved pity regardless, for none of it had been their fault.  But then his buir said, if you can find it in your heart to have a grain of sand’s worth of pity for the aunt, for she was sick of mind, heart, and soul … then you’ll be a better man than I could ever be, kid. 

The idea that inbreeding was the preferred practice of continuing the population was one of the foulest things Din had ever heard of.  The possibility that she could have brought forth another generation was monstrous to him.  But truly, it was not her fault, for what else did she know? 

Remember the first day?  The second?  Those days when you were still unaware of the depths of her ignorance?  She didn’t know what a ship was.  What planets and stars were.  How can you blame her for what she had no way of knowing? 

He knew he had to pity her for what she suffered inside that Hold.  He had to pity her for the circumstances of her birth, and how she would continue to suffer because of it.  If he could pity her for those things, then he had to find a grain of sand’s worth of pity for her ignorance of his Creed.  She didn’t understand because she couldn’t.   

If Marathel would allow it, I will teach her my Creed, why it’s so important to me, why it is so essential to the core of my being.  If she cannot, or will not, then I know I will have done my best by my Creed. 

I don’t always have to like her, but I must try to love her as best I can.  And if I love her, then nothing else matters. 

I’m so sorry, my ma’mwsh ha’laa.   

Din finally collected himself enough to return to the palace.  He had abandoned her, thought only of his own pain and not hers, and he had to try to make it right.  He fucked up again, he was only human, and he didn’t know what the hell he was doing.  He still didn’t know how to process at least half of what Marathel said, nor could he process half of the conflicting emotions he felt.   

He had never heard anything so vile before, and he had been an assassin for the Empire.  He was a murderer for a living, and hearing what Marathel endured after going through that door made him physically sick.  But he had to try, for her sake, to help her continue to endure, because he … 

He stepped up to the door, hearing Cobb’s voice, low, soothing.  Din moved into the doorway to see Marathel, wrapped tightly in her blanket, cradled on Cobb’s lap.  She clutched at his neck, weeping.  His arms held her tight as he gently rocked her.  Cobb’s face also held tear-tracks, and he glared at Din, as if to say, this is where you should be, you should have been the one to hold her, comfort her, tell her that none of it mattered.  But you couldn’t, so I did, and there is no helmet between me and her.  Cobb held Din’s eyes as he kissed Marathel’s cheek, keeping his lips against her soft skin much longer than was necessary before dropping his face to her shoulder.  Her hand went up into Cobb’s hair, her fingers twisting in the strands. 

Suddenly it all made sense.  Her drawing away.  Her telling him to let her go.  Her inability to return words of love.  Her hatred of his Creed.  Cobb’s insistence on being alone with her, keeping Din away as long as possible.  So it’s true, thought Din.  You son of a bitch.  Guess what, friend?  You can have her.  You deserve each other.  

The thought flew through his head unbidden, shocking him, but not enough to shake off his anger.  He ground his teeth until his jaw ached. 

No, no. Strike that.  You don’t get her. I don’t get her.  

No one does. 

She’s going back. 

Din snapped, “We leave tomorrow morning.”  Marathel’s head came up and half-turned to him, her face red from weeping, but she still was able to blush, infuriating Din even more.  He spun and left her room, heading to his room and back to Grogu.  As he passed the kitchen, he saw Silnima, her face in her hands.  He ignored her sobbing and continued down the corridor.  He entered his room and his eyes fell on Grogu, his pride, his joy.  He was that boy’s father in all ways that mattered.  Like Olba was for Marathel.  Not that it did any good.  No one protected those children.  No one protected those women.  Let them die out, let that horrible place fall out of existence.  And if Marathel wants to go back to die out with them, then I’ll take her back, and gladly let her go. 

Unmanarall and its sick, perverted culture  — including Marathel —wasn’t his battle.  Grogu was his battle.  His Creed was his battle.   

Din crawled into bed, carefully placing a protective hand on Grogu’s tiny chest, feeling the small beskar rondel under the little shirt.  A shirt Marathel had made. His Mama.   

Grogu’s going to lose his Mama, thought Din, a fresh pang shooting through his heart.    

He’s young.  He’ll forget her.  I will too, in time. 

He wanted to sleep for a thousand years.  Maybe that would be long enough to forget her.  But sleep would not come, even after he had — several times — replayed and dissected and diagrammed every word she had said to him tonight, every inflection in her voice … and then her ugly words about his Creed, and the sight of her hand tangled in Cobb’s hair.  Every root cause analysis he tried to effect had a different beginning and a different course of action he should take, muddying his rational thought. Exhausted, confused, heartbroken, Din lay there, his hand resting on the little warm body of Grogu, wishing he could sleep. He turned off his visor, and stared into the darkness, wondering why he could hear singing, and the smell of baking bread.

Saturday morning you wake up, unfortunately, to cold sheets beside you and an otherwise empty bed. It’s early, you know this because the alarm to get Alistair up hasn’t gone off yet and you idly wonder where Max has gone to. You did go to bed rather early last night because he had been so jet lagged so you’re not surprised he’d been up early, his internal clock probably still not readjusted back to this timezone yet.

You sit up, rubbing your tired eyes and a little smile crosses your lips when you look down and are reminded that you had gone to bed in Max’s dress shirt last night. Almost as if on instinct, you grab the collar and bring it up in front of your nose and take a deep inhale and a dreamy little sigh escapes you when the lingering scent of Max invades your senses. You’ll have to remember for next time how absolutely divine it is to wake up in his clothes that are still smelling of him so you can make sure you do it again.

And given Max’s reaction to seeing you in it last night, you don’t think he’ll be opposed to the idea.

You push out of the bed to get up and go to the bathroom when a little folded piece of paper on the nightstand catches your eye. Opening it up a smile automatically crosses your lips when you recognize Max’s loopy handwriting.

Angel, got up early, thought I’d get a head start on my day to be sure I’m free in time for dinner. I’m looking forward to it and can’t wait. Will pick you up at your place (this is a date, and I’m a gentleman!) at 7:00. See you then, Maxwell xoxo

You have a little giggle at his note. It’s sweet that he wants to treat this as authentic a date as possible. And he rightly assumed you’d want to go to your own home to get ready there. Of course you have basic essentials here, but you really want to go all out on your hair and makeup for tonight and look your best so you’ll need to go home first where you have access to your full arsenal of beauty products.

Your fingers ghost along the end of the note where Max had signed his name with hugs and kisses and you feel like you’re in fourth grade again and just got passed a note from a boy you’re crushing on. You laugh to yourself and shake your head but you refold the note up regardless and take it into the bathroom with you to shove it into the pocket of your discarded Pajama shorts from the night before because you are absolutely going to be keeping this cute little note and tucking it away somewhere safe in your room later.

The rest of the morning is busy. You get Alistair his breakfast and then park him in front of the TV so you can get some things done around the house. You do Alistair’s laundry, strip Max’s bed and remake it with fresh linens (though you’re hoping the two of you are just going to ruin them tonight, you still want everything to start off as perfect as possible) and then as your waiting for the laundry to finish a thought crosses your mind and you grab Alistair and get into your car for a quick trip down to the corner store.

You’re not home very long before Alistair’s mother arrives to pick him up and the two of you exchange hellos and have a quick little chat while Alistair runs down the driveway to get in the car, eager to get his weekend with his mom started.

“Oh, before you go,” you begin as you run quickly over the kitchen and grab the few things you had picked up from the store this morning and put them all in a bag. “I figured you haven’t been home in a couple weeks, you probably wouldn’t have fresh milk and bread and basics and stuff and I’m sure the last thing you want to do now is go grocery shopping” you explain as you hold out the bag to her and she smiles warmly at you and puts a hand over her heart.

“Oh my gosh, that is so thoughtful, thank you so much! You’re right, I didn’t even think about that, my head is just…” she motions wildly with a wave of her hand, “all over the place, you know?”

“I’m very sorry about your mother” you say sincerely. “I’m glad at least that they think they can help her. She’s very lucky to have you to be with her” you offer a kind smile.

“Thank you, yes, we’re staying optimistic” she smiles back. “And thank you for just… everything you do for Alistair, and of course for stepping in the last two weeks, last minute like that. I’m sure Max has expressed how much he appreciates it but I really do as well, so thank you” She smiles again and reaches to place a hand on your arm and offers a small squeeze.

“It’s no problem, I love that Alistair to bits. He’s a really great kid” you say sincerely and Sofia nods in agreement.

Your pleasant chat however is broken up when Alistair hangs his head out the car window and starts yelling for his Mom to hurry up and you both have a little laugh at his impatience (’gets that from his father’, Sofia remarks) but you say your goodbyes and wave from the door to Alistair until you see the car disappear down the street.

The rest of your day seems like it just drags on and on. You decided to head home after Alistair got picked up and do a little tidying around your apartment and then try and distract yourself with first a book and then some TV until it's finally late enough that you can shower and begin to get ready for your date. Now the time seems to pass way too quickly and you’re still putting the finishing touches on your appearance when you hear a knock at your door.

“Shoot” you mutter as you run off to the bedroom to grab your shoes. Thankfully the pair you had your mind set on wearing tonight is right at the front of your closet so you don’t have to waste time ransacking the place and you quickly slip them on before turning to your full length mirror, smoothing down your dress and giving yourself a final once over. Satisfied with the result you take a steadying breath and then head for the door, smiling wide when you open it.

“Sorry, I was just-” the words die on your lips as your gaze immediately zeroes in on the tie he’s chosen to wear this evening. The tie. The infamous navy blue tie with the gold paisley pattern that started it all. Tonight he’s pairing it with a black three-button suit with a light blue shirt and gold cufflinks to match the pattern color in his tie and it takes you a few seconds to realize you’ve stopped speaking and you’re just standing there staring at him with your mouth still half open mid-sentence.

“Angel you look breathtaking” Max compliments, snapping you back to reality. His smile is bright and genuine as he takes another step forward and leans in to brush a kiss to your cheek.

“And you look very handsome, Maxwell. I like the tie” You tease with a wink and you see a bit of a blush rise up his neck.

“I thought you might” he smirks and then begins fiddling nervously with his cufflinks before he smooths his hands down the imaginary wrinkles in his jacket and squares his shoulders again, taking a breath.

“Are you ready, my dear?” He asks and you nod.

The restaurant Max takes you to is beautiful. All low lighting and romantic candlelight and an extensive wine list that is almost all in French which you don’t speak a word of, but thankfully Max seems to know what he’s doing and orders a bottle of something after only a brief glance at the menu.

“Very good choice sir” the waiter agrees with a curt nod and then turns to take his leave.

“Do you think they always say that?” You find yourself asking suddenly, your face scrunched up a little in thought.

“What’s that?” Max asks, not following.

“Complimenting your taste in wine. Like do you think you could order the most dog shit wine on the list and they’re just pre-programmed to tell you that you’ve made an excellent choice?” You say and Max rewards you with a genuine laugh that makes the corners of his eyes crinkle. You don’t really go to fancy places like this (mostly because you can’t afford it) but you’ve seen enough of these scenes play out in movies and television to know what they’re like.

“Well I guess next time we’ll order the… what was it? Dog shit wine? And we’ll see what happens…” He jokes and now it’s you that’s laughing, just as your server returns with the very good bottle of wine.

“Are we celebrating anything this evening?” The waiter asks, making polite conversation as he holds his arm out with a napkin draped over it and pours a small sample of the wine for Max to taste.

“A… first date” Max replies after a moment, winking across the table at you and you give him a smile in return, the butterflies returning to your stomach.

“Oh first date, wow. Forgive me, you just seemed so comfortable with each other I thought perhaps a wedding anniversary” The server comments just as Max gives the wine a quick swirl around the glass before taking a small sip.

“Excellent” Max concludes on the wine and the server gives a nod before he fills Max’s glass and then your own and excuses himself, saying he’ll be back shortly.

“To my radiant wife on our wedding anniversary” Max says teasingly, raising his glass to you.

“Easy slugger, let’s just try and get through the first date first and see how it goes, okay?” You joke back before clinking your glass against his and you both take a sip.

Dinner seems to fly by. Maybe it was because you had barely seen each other for a week, but you and Max never seem to run out of things to talk about. You ask him a lot of questions about London because you’re genuinely curious about the city and the architecture and the culture and he’s fairly knowledgeable despite not having spent a lot of time there himself. He asks you about what your travel bucket list would be - London excluded, he already knows it’s one of the places you’d love to see - and the conversation just continues flowing until you’re cleaning the last morsel of creme brulee off of Max’s offered fork while your server drops off your bill at the table.

“Max thank you for dinner, that might have been the best meal I’ve ever had” you tell him as he closes up the leather bound fold after tucking his credit card inside and hands it back.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it Angel” he smiles warmly at you, reaching across the table to hold your fingers with his.

“I mean it Max this is… It’s really nice, that you did this for me. For us” And you mean that. Max didn’t have to take you out or spend money on you but he wants to and you’re more than happy about it. Not that you need him to take you to fancy places or spend money on you, but it's just nice that he wants to put in an effort.

“Look, I know things may be a little… unconventional for us” Max begins with a shrug, his thumb rubbing across your knuckles now of the hand he’s still holding. “But you deserve this. To be treated right. Special. Because you are, very special to me” he finishes and brings your hand up to place a kiss to the back of it.

“Thank you Max” you smile warmly and give his hand a light squeeze.

The drive back to Max’s house is practically torture. Your whole body is thrumming with an excited but slightly nervous energy. It feels like you’ve been waiting for this night, for this moment, for so long when in reality it’s only been a couple of weeks.

And you still can’t believe he wore that damn tie… certainly not helping matters any.

“You um… still want to come back to mine?” Max asks a little nervously from beside and seeing that he’s just as flustered as you are, it actually helps settle your own nerves and you give him a smile, reaching across the console to interlock your fingers with this over the gear shifter. The question almost throws you for a loop before you realize that Alistair is not home which means technically you could just go back to your own place for the entire weekend until Sunday night if you wanted to, because that’s what happens when Alistair is not there to be cared for, you go to your own home. But that was before. Before Mr. Lord was just Max. Before you were his Angel.

“More than anything” you answer him with and the relieved breath that leaves his lips doesn’t escape your notice. It also doesn’t escape your notice how Max’s foot presses a little bit harder down on the gas pedal once you’ve confirmed your destination.

When you get inside the house Max looks a little nervous again, hands smoothing down over the tops of his thighs as he stands near the doorway.

“Do you want some more wine?” He asks but you simply shake your head and give him a coy smile.

“No”

He smiles back, releasing a breath and then takes a step closer to you so you’re mere inches apart. He cradles your face in both his hands and then he’s kissing you. It’s deep and slow and sensual the way he breathes you in and slides his tongue against yours as you swallow each other's moans. He takes a step closer, walking you backwards until your back hits the front door and he’s still on you, never breaking the kiss. One of his large hands leaves your face and smooths down your side to hold at your waist while the other finds purchase on your throat, angling your head just right so his mouth can begin its slow attack on the other side as his lips slide down your jaw to your neck.

“Max,” you breathe out, chest heaving already. Max only answers you with a moan into the hollow of your throat as he kisses and licks at the soft flesh.

“Baby, take me to bed” you whisper into his ear and he plants a couple more quick kisses on you before he pulls back slightly and wordlessly grabs your hand and leads you up the stairs.

You get into the bedroom and immediately notice how candles have littered the room on every surface. Max must’ve set it up when he got home from work, and he quickly starts moving around the space to light each one while you wait patiently, standing next to the bed.

“Someone was presumptuous” you tease. “Thinking you were gonna get lucky on a first date huh?”

Max lights the last candle and then strides over to you and tucks some hair behind your ear before his hand rests on your cheek as he confesses quietly, “Angel I’m already lucky”.

“Sweet boy” you smile before taking his hand from your cheek in both of yours and bringing to your lips to kiss his palm. “Will you…” you trail off, dropping his hand but turn your back to him so you’re facing the bed and gesture with a nod of your head to the zipper at the back of your dress.

Max agrees with a nod but deliberately takes his time with it, because of course he does. Both his hands land on your hips and he pulls you a little closer so he can lean forward and start placing kisses all over the back and sides of your neck and an involuntary shiver runs down your spine.

“Feels good Baby” you murmur as you tilt your head back to rest on his shoulder, giving him better access and your arm reaches up behind you to hold around his head so your fingers can push through his hair.

Max hums into your throat, continuing to place hot, wet kisses everywhere he can reach as his hands begin smoothing upwards until he has a handful of each of your breasts in his hands over your dress and he gives a little squeeze and you moan, your hand in his hair gripping a little tighter.

He’s kissing your neck and side of your face and alternating between massaging your breasts and just running his hands all over your stomach and chest and sides for several minutes and it’s like he’s everywhere all at once but you still need more.

You need out of this dress, for starters.

Max thankfully seems to be as in tune with your body as you and knows what you need before you have a chance to voice it and finally you hear the slow drag of the zipper at the back of your dress coming down. A little drawn out whine leaves your lips when Max’s tongue starts following the path down your spine where he’s slowly revealing your smooth flesh to him and the lower the zip goes, so does Max until he’s suddenly down on his knees behind you when the dress finally falls to your feet and he’s helping you step out of it.

“Pretty” you hear him mumble as his hands come up to drag along the edges of the the baby pink lace panties you had picked out at the mall yesterday. It matches the bra you’re wearing as well, only he hasn’t noticed that yet from his position behind you.

“Max,” you whimper as his mouth plants little kisses to the globes of your ass.

“Lean over the bed” he instructs you, gently pushing on your lower back and you follow the pressure of his hand, bending at the waist until your top half is lying down on your stomach on the side of the bed while your feet are still planted on the floor with Max behind you on his knees.

“Max?” You begin to question what exactly he’s doing as he gently pushes your legs a little wider apart but then a gush of air leaves your lungs and you moan out loud when he suddenly pulls your panties to the side and buries his face in your cunt, licking and prodding at you with his tongue.

“Oh my god!”

“Mmmm, you taste so good Angel” he praises as he continues licking through your folds and reaching a little further forward to swirl the tip of his tongue around your clit and your knuckles turn white as they grip the bedspread, hanging on for dear life while Max unravels you whole. Something about him being on his knees for you is doing all kinds of things to you and you turn your head so your cheek is resting on the bed and try desperately to look behind you so you can get a view of what Max is doing but you mostly just see the top of his head and his hands on your ass.

“Baby let me turn over, wanna see” you pant, a little breathless from how close to the edge Max has brought you already. He groans into your throbbing center and places a few more kisses before he dutifully shuffles back a few inches giving you some room. You flip over onto your back, legs still dangling over the edge and push yourself up on your elbows. Max’s pupils are blown out, his hair is a wild mess and his chest heaves as he tries to catch his breath and calm himself down but as always, he can’t help himself around you. He’s sitting back on his heels, hands on his thighs seemingly waiting for your permission to begin again and hell if it doesn’t ignite something even further in you.

“You look good like this baby” you mention with a grin, bringing one foot up to rub into his shoulder and his eyes close as he lets out a little whimper. He turns his head and bends it down slightly to place a kiss to the inside of your ankle and then brings a hand up to smooth up and down your calf.

“I like you on your knees for me” you begin, biting on your lower lip when his eyes reopen and stare right into yours, lust blown and wanting. “But I’d like it even better if you were naked” you add and he raises an eyebrow but otherwise says nothing before he starts to undress.

He begins by shoving his jacket down his arms and tossing it aside, then loosens his tie and starts undoing his shirt buttons one by one. His hands go to pull the tie up and over his neck but suddenly you reach a hand out in a gesture to stop.

“Wait!” You say and he freezes, tie half way over his head. “Leave that on” you instruct and you hear him whimper a little ‘fuck’ and does as he’s told, pulling it back down around his neck and then freeing himself of his dress shirt next.

“It’s been driving me crazy all night” you say in explanation. “You were a naughty little thing weren’t you, wearing that tie for me, hmm?”

“Yes Angel, I’m sorry” Max is practically squirming. Hands smoothing over his legs, desperate to be back on you but he sits otherwise still and waits for you to release him.

“Take off everything else” you instruct, lightly shoving at his shoulder with your foot before removing it and he quickly scrambles to his feet and eagerly tugs and pulls at his belt to get it free and then shoves his pants and boxers down the ground and kicks them off until he stands bare before with just the tie still loosely hanging around his neck.

You say nothing, but make a 'come hither' gesture with the crook of your finger and Max takes a step forward so he’s standing between your knees and then he bends forward, close enough that you’re able to grab the end of his tie, wrap it around your hand and pull him close so you can rise up further on your elbows and kiss him. He brings one hand down flat on the bed to hold himself up and the other rests gently on your rib cage, his thumb softly caressing back and forth as you kiss and lick into his mouth. You’re kissing for a few long moments, occasionally tugging on the tie to bring him even closer and then he moans into your mouth when your free hand reaches down and gently strokes his length from where it hangs just mere inches away from your still clothed sex and you can feel how hard and ready he is for you already. He’s practically trembling above you. If he lowered his hips just an inch or two his cock would be against you and he could take what you’ve both been waiting so long for, but you’re not quite done with him yet. The tempting vision of him stripped down and on his knees pleasing you is just too good to pass up.

“Back on the floor, my gorgeous boy” you instruct as you pull back from him slightly. “I wanna cum in this pretty mouth first” you tell him, running a fingertip along his bottom lip and he groans but then pulls it into his mouth and sucks.

“Yes, good boy” you praise him and he grins before resuming his kneeled position on the floor between your legs.

“May I?” Max asks, placing his hands on your hips and holding the elastic edges of your panties.

“Yes baby, take them off”

He wastes no time, peeling them off your legs but then does take just a quick moment to rub the material between the pads of his fingers as a smile spreads across his lips.

“They’re almost too pretty to take off” he comments, mesmerized by the little scrap of lace in his hands, but then his head turns to your glistening sex between spread legs and his eyebrow raises as he drops the panties to the floor, forgotten.

“But not as pretty as you” he adds, shuffling slightly closer on his knees and then grabs your hips with both hands and hauls you further to the edge of the bed so your ass is practically hanging off of it. You don’t have to worry about falling though because suddenly he takes both of your legs and drapes one over each of his shoulders and his hands come down to wrap up under your thighs and hold you down at your hips before he’s diving straight back in and your whole upper body practically jolts upright at the sudden burst of pleasure that rocks you.

“Mmmmmm” he moans into your sex, lapping at you and nuzzling and kissing and sucking and your hips and thighs are already trembling from his efforts.

“Yes, Max. Fuck, so good” you pant, lowered back down onto your elbows again and watching Max as he eats you out like a man starved. “Oh baby you’re so good”

That seems to spurn Max on even further and he buries his face deeper into your wet heat, moaning his appreciation for your praise into your core and sending little vibration shockwaves through you.

“Oh fuck,” your head falls back onto the bed, not able to hold yourself up anymore and your ankles cross over each other behind Max, trying to keep him as close as possible. “More, god please Max, I need more”

Ask and ye shall receive apparently because the next thing you know one of his hands leaves your hips and you’re feeling a completely new and strange sensation at your entrance. His fingertips are prodding you but there’s something else, a barrier between his fingers and your hole and it’s smooth and silky and suddenly you’re jolted back up onto your elbows as you realize he’s using his fucking tie on you.

He brushes it through your folds, smearing your juices over the area where his fingers are behind it before he’s back at your entrance and shoving two fingers inside covered by the tie and you cry out.

“Oh fuck! Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck! Ohhhhhh Max, oh my god, yes baby, yes”

Max groans into your cunt, licking into you with renewed enthusiasm as he feels you climbing that peak that he so desperately wants to push you over. His fingers are still working you in and out and his tie is going to be fucking ruined but it’s the last thing on his brain. He has half a mind to frame the damn thing by this point anyway. Build it its own trophy case and display it proudly on his bedroom wall over his bed.

“Baby I’m gonna cum” you whine, trembling under his hold on you as the taught thread in your lower abdomen threatens to snap. “Oh please, please” you beg, needing just a little bit more and he gives just what you need, sucking your clit into his mouth as his fingers curl into just the right spot and you cry out, lurching forward so you can grab the back of his head and ride his face as wave after wave releases over you until you’re completely drained and you flop back down onto your back, completely boneless and utterly spent.

Max slows down but continues softly licking and kissing and nuzzling into you, moaning his adoration for you into your still throbbing sex. He carefully pulls his fingers and the tie out of you and you let out a little groan at the loss of feeling so full of him. He begins planting kisses to the top of your mound and then insides of your thighs before he finally takes your shaking legs off his shoulders and crawls up and puts his hands under you so he can haul you further up the bed and then he collapses at your side on the bed, his hand coming to rest on your stomach and rubbing small comforting circles on it.

“Was that okay Angel?” He asks so quietly, your sweet Maxwell. Checking in even after giving you an earth shattering orgasm.

“Baby” you sigh, chest still heaving from exertion. Your brain can’t seem to formulate any kind of sentence so instead you roll onto your side to face him, grab a fistful of his tie again and kiss him, hard.

“That was incredible” you say, pulling back after a few long seconds of kissing. “But you can literally never wear this tie in public again or I’ll fucking die from embarrassment. I don’t care if you get it dry cleaned or not, this scrap of silk is never leaving this bedroom” you insist, but your tone is playful and he knows you’re far from upset at how he used it.

Max just smirks at you and then brings your hand up that’s holding his tie and places a kiss to your knuckles.

“Yes I think this one will have to retire” he teases. “It’ll be just for us” he adds with a little wink before he pulls it over his head and tosses it to the floor.

You lay there another minute, still trying to catch your breaths and then Max’s fingertips are tracing the bottom edge of your lacy pink bra and he’s smiling as he pushes himself up on one elbow to look down at you.

“Matching set” he states as he’s just now noticing anything not below your waist, a little smirk forming at his lips. “Somebody was presumptuous for a first date” he teases, tossing your own remarks back at you and you laugh, tossing your head back.

“Come here” you finally say, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down to kiss you.

The kiss is soft and unhurried as you lazily stroke each other's tongues and explore mouths. One of Max’s hands starts smoothing up your side and then moves to your breast, massaging it under his large palm and you press your chest further into his touch and let out a little moan.

“Max?” You mumble between kisses.

“Hmmm?”

You break the kiss, hold his face with both your hands and look him in the eyes as you say the words that you’ve been wanting to for so long.

“Make love to me?”

Max simply nods his head once and then lowers just slightly to press one last kiss to your closed lips before he pulls back.

Wordlessly you both reposition on the bed so neither of you are at risk of falling off the edge. You settle on your back at the top of the bed by the headboard, head nestled in a sea of pillows and Max crawls over top of you. You push up slightly so you can reach behind yourself and unclasp your bra, pulling the straps down your arms and tossing it aside, wanting to feel completely unburdened when Max lowers his body onto yours.

“So beautiful” he murmurs, so softly you almost don’t even hear it, like he’s just simply overwhelmed by you.

“Sweet boy” you hum, bringing a hand up to brush through his hair.

“By the way I um… I have an I.U.D. just so you know so…” you trail off, you don’t think you need to spell out anymore what you’re telling him and he smiles, bending down to capture your lips again.

“Are you ready Angel?” He asks once he pulls back from the kiss and you nod your head eagerly.

Max pushes himself up to his knees and grabs for one of the discarded pillows on the bed and drags it towards him, tapping your hip with his hand and you lift your hips so he can place it underneath you. He repositions himself in between your legs but before he does anything else he leans down and places warm wet kisses all over your body; to each of your breasts, your sternum, your ribs, abdomen, hips, and one final kiss to your mound before he straightens back up on his knees again and you can’t help it but you’re smiling at him like an absolute fool in love.

His hands come down to rest on each of your outer thighs and he drags them up and then back down until his hands hook under you knees and he pushes your legs up so they’re bent at your knees with your feet flat on the mattress and then finally he grabs his achingly hard dick and guides it notch at your entrance.

“Um Max,” you start before he actually pushes inside you. “It’s been um… a while?” You admit sheepishly, your cheeks coloring slightly. “Will you just, start slow”

Max doesn’t answer right away, just lowers his upper body down so he can kiss you, soft and sweet and full of promise.

“Whatever you need Angel” he whispers against your lips and then presses a kiss to the tip of your nose before he raises back up just slightly, and then he guides himself inside, slowly, inch by inch and letting out a soft groan when he finally gets inside your warmth.

“Are you ok?” He asks, stopping about half way in to check with you. Your bottom lip is between your teeth but you nod your head enthusiastically. There’s a stretch for sure but it’s far from unpleasant. You want more.

“Baby you feel so good inside me, keep going” you encourage and he has to close his eyes and take a breath so he doesn’t slam his hips the rest of the way into you like he wants to when he hears words like that falling from your lips.

“Angel you’re,” he trails off for a moment, sucking a breath through his teeth as he pushes deeper inside. “God you’re so tight, feels so good”

You’re not surprised, it feels like he’s splitting you open (though in the best possible way) and you certainly weren’t lying when you said it’s been a while. You haven’t dated in an embarrassingly long time since your last ex broke your heart and you haven’t been interested in anybody until Max came into your life. But now that he’s here, there’s no one you’d rather be with.

He finally bottoms out and you release a breath you’d been holding as Max stills inside you.

“I’m ok, you can move” you assure him but he shakes his head just slightly and doesn’t move.

“Just um… I just need a second” he says and then proceeds to take a few deep slow breaths and your lips curl up into a sly smile. Maybe it’s been a while for him too and the fact that he needs to concentrate so hard on not cumming immediately does give your ego a bit of a little boost.

“My god Angel you’re so perfect” he groans before he finally pulls almost all the way out and then pushes back in and you moan, hands coming down to grip the sheets beneath you.

“Ok?” He asks and you nod frantically.

“Yes, baby keep going, I’m ok"

And he does. He pulls nearly all the way out again and slides easily back in over and over again at a slow pace until you’re freely moaning and he knows you’re past the initial stretch. He shifts slightly, pulling your legs up further so your feet are off the mattress and he’s pushing them towards you, folding you in on yourself while still pumping his hips in and out and suddenly he’s hitting deeper which each thrust with how he has you held and your hands come up to grip his biceps, fingernails digging into his skin.

“Oh god Baby, you’re so deep in me, feels so good” you’re panting and moaning and doing everything you can to chase his hips with your own.

“Yeahhhh, just like that” Max soothes, his slow thrusts gradually gaining momentum with every whine and whimper that passes your lips, encouraging him. “Fuck you feel incredible”

He pushes your legs further still until he has you practically folded in half and he’s holding himself up above you almost in a push-up stance and begins lowering himself up and down, up and down over and over again sliding in and out of you at a much faster pace now and he’s hitting you so deep it’s like he’s impaling you with his cock with each push and you’re instantly brought to the edge; writhing and moaning and shaking underneath him.

“Yes Max, right there, oh fuck, baby. Oh don’t stop”

He doesn’t. He doubles his efforts, slamming into you over and over as you cry out and dig your nails so hard into his skin that he has to grit his teeth through the pain but he fucks you through it, getting lost in the blissed out expression that comes over you when you finally hit that peak and the second your relase washes over you he has to pull out and squeeze at the base of his cock for a moment; the way your walls just clamped down on him nearly sending him over his own edge.

Your giggling in your fucked out euphoria and it causes a little huff of laughter out of Max too as he strokes his length a few times and then brings it down to push through your folds to cover him in your slick again and your hips jolt at the oversensitivity before you settle once more.

Max lowers himself onto his side, having used up much of his stamina in the last position and rearranges you again so the pillow is no longer under you and just your leg closest to him is now raised as he holds it up and he pushes back inside you before easing in and out slowly again.

“Ohhhhhhh,” you whimper, eyes closing voluntarily at the pleasure the new angle gives you. He continues going slow for now, thankfully (probably for both your sakes) because you’re still overstimulated and he wants to make himself last as long as possible.

He fucks you slowly, his forehead coming down to rest on your shoulder as he pumps his hips in and out, in and out. You feel that slow build again, deep in your abdomen as the minutes tick by and he continues his steady and deep thrusts.

"Angel you feel amazing" he murmurs against your skin. "Feels so good to be inside you"

"Oh Max" you whimper, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Baby I love having you inside me, don't stop"

Before too long your little whines and whimpers let him know you’re getting close again so he takes two fingers and and sucks them into his mouth before bringing them down to play with your clit and you lurch forward, pushing up on your elbows as another impending orgasm racks your body. Max pushes harder and faster with each thrust until he feels your walls flutter around him and whispers little words of encouragement into your ear, giving you that final push over the edge.

“Oh my god, yes, yes, yes,” you chant, delirious. It hits you as hard as the last one and you cum with a long drawn out moan as Max slows his thrusts once again.

“Fuck Angel” Max groans and suddenly he’s pulling out of you and on his knees between your legs before he lowers himself down and starts licking and mouthing at your throbbing cunt, apparently needing to give his dick a break so your night doesn’t end before he wants it to.

“Baby, oh my god, I can’t” you’re squirming below him, barely past your last peak when you feel another quickly approaching right on it’s heels. Max doesn’t let up, feeling the way your thighs lock around his head he knows your close again. He spreads your lower lips with his fingers and swirls his tongue around your clit before sucking it into his mouth and you're practically convulsing from underneath him, trying desperately to thrust up into him and chase the pressure of his tongue.

“Fuck I’m gonna cum again”

Max moans into you and then shoves three fingers inside you without warning and curls them and your resolve breaks instantly and you’re flooding his mouth and fingers with your release and he keeps moaning as he happily laps you up with long broad stripes of his tongue up you’re center until your pushing at his shoulders, the stimulation too much.

He relents, thankfully, and removes his mouth and fingers from you and crawls back up your body again until he’s laying on top of you, one arm holding himself just steady enough up so that he’s not crushing you with his weight and he leans down and kisses you soundly. You moan when you taste the evidence of your multiple orgasms on his tongue.

He keeps kissing you like there’s nothing else in the world he’d rather be doing but you know he’s got to be painfully hard by this point and in all honestly this has gone on far longer than you initially expected it to and besides that, you don't think you physically have it in you to give him another orgasm. Being your first time together and all, you certainly weren’t expecting the marathon that Max was putting you through (not that you were complaining, mind you).

“Baby” you murmur between kisses and then your hand travels between your bodies until it reaches his cock and you wrap your hand around it. He moans into your mouth at your touch and you smile into the kiss as you guide him back to your entrance.

“I won’t last” Max admits, shaking his head gently, his forehead coming to rest on yours.

“I know, let go baby”

“Fuck” he curses before pushing inside with one deep thrust and you both moan in unison. He felt beyond amazing before of course, but having him like this with his weight on top of you and kissing you tenderly as he rocks in and out of you is just everything you ever wanted it to be.

He tears his lips away from yours after a minute and sucks a breath in through his teeth as he starts pistoning into you harder and faster, his thrusts becoming sloppier as he gets close to his release.

“Yes Maxwell, cum for me sweet boy, please baby” you encourage him and that seems to do him in. He cums with a loud groan as he pushes into you a few more times, cock pulsing inside of you as he empties himself and then slumps down on top of you, breathing heavily and his heart racing against yours.

“Good boy” you whisper quietly into his hair, bringing your hands up to push through it and Max whimpers into your throat and you feel his cock twitch inside you.

“Stay inside me sweet boy, please, just a little bit. Wanna feel you” you coo and Max nods frantically against your neck. You knew he’d like that. You wrap your legs around his back and gently begin rocking your hips, doing whatever you can to keep him from softening inside you too quickly and soon he’s matching your little thrusts with his own until finally he pushes once more as deep as he can and wraps his arms around you in a tight hug for several long seconds and then he regretfully pulls out and rolls over onto his back, his cock soft and spent between his legs.

“Baby that was incredible” you tell him, snuggling up to his side and leaning down to plant a kiss to his chest.

You were incredible” he corrects and you playfully roll your eyes and swat his chest.

“Fine we’ll call it a draw” you tease before placing another kiss, this time to his shoulder.

“I’ll be right back” Max says, rolling to the edge of the bed and pulling himself up on tired legs with a groan. He wanders into the bathroom and you hear the faucet running for a few seconds before he’s back in the bedroom and sitting down beside you at your waist with a washcloth in his hands.

He brings it down between your legs and cleans you up with the warm towel and you hum your thanks to him, wrapping a hand around his upper arm. Max had to be without a doubt the most attentive lover you’ve ever had and it makes your heart swell as you watch him carefully drag the warm cloth over you and then lean down to plant a single kiss to the middle of your stomach before he rises back up to go dispose of the cloth into the laundry basket. He stops to blow out each of the candles on his way back to you, bathing the room in darkness.

“You’re so sweet to me” you sigh as he crawls into bed beside you, lifting the covers over you both.

“‘Course,” he smirks. “You’re my Angel”

“I’m glad we waited” you hum as you snuggle further into his side. “That was well worth it”

“It was everything Sweetheart, thank you” Max says, leaning his head down to kiss your forehead.

“Not bad for a first date” you giggle and Max laughs, rubbing his hand up and down your back.

You swing one leg over his and try to ignore the tingling in your overused sex as it brushes against his thigh and then drape an arm over his chest so you’re half lying on top of him and he uses the arm that’s underneath you to gently run his fingertips up and down your sides and back, wherever he can reach and his free hand grabs for your leg on his and hikes it a little higher. He smooths his hand up the back of your thigh until he reaches your ass and gently kneads the soft flesh in his hand before releasing and repeating the pattern and you hum into his chest, placing a kiss to it.

You could absolutely fall asleep like this. And within minutes, you do just that.

Crawling back to you Ever thought of calling when you've had a few? 'Cause I always do

Javi has avoided you for two weeks now. He got himself involved in some truly fucked up shit with Carillo and couldn’t bear to face you after that. He couldn’t let you see him like that – completely ashamed of himself, broken. He went to Gabriela instead. He knew she wouldn’t ask too many questions, that she would let him take out his anger and helplessness and shame on her. 

When he got home that night he still almost called you, just to hear your voice. You calm something inside him, something dark and violent. But it feels like a sin to expose you to it in the first place. He’s terrified of letting you in. Sure, he’s afraid of getting hurt. Afraid of giving his heart to you and possibly watching you crush it in your hands. But what he’s really scared of is letting you get close enough to see the blood in his teeth, to smell the rot in his chest. Afraid his darkness will infect you, ruin the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on. He is a bad man and you are so so good. You deserve better than him.

And yet he can’t truly let you go. Just another reason he doesn’t deserve you. He’s selfish enough to keep going back to you, to keep knocking on your apartment door and burying his pain in your body, only to tuck tail and run the second you push him for more. Most selfish of all is how much he wants more with you. Wants to come home to you every day. To cook dinner with you, to share a bed with you, to share his life with you. He wants everything you want and more and he’s terrified and horrified at the prospect. 

You haven’t called him. Maybe you finally listened to him. Finally accepted he’s not what you want or need. Do you think about calling him? Maybe after a bottle of wine, listening to your maudlin records and relaxing on your couch. Do you drink yourself into a stupor before you can make that mistake like he does? 

He dreams about you, about your body wrapped tightly around his, your nails dragging down his back so sharply it snaps him awake. He finds his whiskey glass turned over and spilled on his couch. His back aches from falling asleep sitting up. He eyes the phone. 

Fuck calling. 

Javi stares at the brass numbers on your apartment door. What the fuck is he doing here? He just can’t leave well enough alone. He pounds on the door until you answer. 

“No.” You slam the door closed. 

He bangs on the door again, fist pausing mid-air as the door swings open. 

“You can’t just come crawling back to me when you get tired of your whores, Javi.” You look beautiful. Standing in your doorway in one of his t-shirts and a pair of panties. Righteous anger puts a fire in your eyes, gives a hard set to your jaw.  

“No es así y tú lo sabes.” (It’s not like that and you know it).” Javi steps closer to you, you don’t step back. “Me haces falta. (I miss you). Let me in.” 

“Oh you fucking miss me? It’s been two weeks. Y no llamaste. (and you didn’t call).” You didn’t call him either, but that’s not the point. You didn’t show up at his apartment.

“Sé, lo siento. (I know, I’m sorry).”

“No. No lo eres. Déjame en paz.” (No. You’re not. Leave me alone.).  

“No puedo. You know I can’t.” Javi looks defeated, run down. You know he needs you. Despite the advice of everyone you know and your own better judgment, you step aside and let him in. “Gracias, cariño.” And he sounds so relieved, you almost feel bad for keeping him out, for not calling him. Almost. 

He closes the door behind him and you stalk off to the kitchen, still not quite ready to face him. You pour yourself a glass of whiskey and shoot it, wincing a little at the burn, before grabbing another glass and pouring one for each of you. You set both on the coffee table and sit on the couch, folding your legs beneath you. 

“Why are you here, Javi?” He’d asked himself as much.

He picks his glass up off the table and sits on the couch next to you. You watch his adam’s apple bob as he swallows. “I need you. I don’t know what else you want me to say.” 

“Start with why you disappeared.”

“Classified.”

“Bullshit.”

Javi sets his glass down and manhandles you into his lap. He crashes his mouth into yours and at first you don’t even respond to his touch, but it doesn’t take long to fall into him. You can’t deny that you’ve been miserable without him. Craving his touch, missing him so much it hurts. He’s like an itch you can never scratch enough to satisfy. A festering wound that won’t ever heal. So you may as well pick at the scab. 

Javi pulls your crotch flush with his. He’s already hard against you. You bury your hands in his too-long hair where it curls at the nape and lose yourself in him. You grind down on him and he thrusts up against you, the denim of his jeans and hard line of his cock creating delicious friction even through your panties. 

He breaks the kiss, dragging his lips up your jaw, and whispers in your ear, “Can you come for me like this?” You don’t answer him, simply grind down on him harder, faster, nearly rubbing your thighs raw on his jeans. He peels his t-shirt off your body, throws it behind the couch, and immediately sucks a nipple between his plush lips. He bites down and it sends a jolt straight through your core. 

“Fuck, Javi. More, baby. More,” you whine. He grabs your hips and drags you along his clothed length hard and fast. You feel your core tighten around nothing, and a keening moan falls from your lips as you come. 

You don’t even have time to catch your breath before he’s thrown you onto the couch. He drags your ruined underwear down your legs, tossing them over his shoulder, and buries his face between your thighs. He sucks your clit into his mouth and pushes two fingers inside you, pumping slowly and rolling your clit gently between his teeth. 

You arch up into him, and instead of pinning you down like he often does, he lets you grind your pussy on his face. The hard ridge of his nose, the rough drag of his mustache, the plush softness of his lips, so many different sensations hitting you as his fingers plunge into your cunt, curling into your g-spot over and over. It’s completely and utterly overwhelming. You fist his hair and hold him tight to you as you ride his face, and he moans into your cunt. He fucking loves it when you let go like this, unabashed moans filling the room, probably filling the whole apartment complex. 

You fall apart again, like this, hips stuttering to a stop as you squeeze his fingers so hard it almost hurts. Javi peers up at your blissed out face, the rapid rise and fall of your chest, takes in just how beautiful you are. He drags his tongue through your slick one more time before hovering over you and licking into your mouth. 

You suck your own slick off his tongue, licking into his mouth as you feel him shove his jeans down enough to free his cock. He pulls back, sits on the couch and drags you into his lap. You straddle him and he helps you line up before grabbing your hips and pulling you down on him. 

You collapse forward, the feeling of him inside you is like being split apart and it would probably hurt if you weren’t so wet. He grabs your hair and pulls backward until your back is arched. “Montarme, cariño.” (Ride me, baby). You start moving your hips, slowly picking up in speed until you’re bouncing on his cock so hard and fast you can barely catch your breath.

He hitches your thighs around his waist and wraps his arm around your back, dropping you on the couch. He shoves his jeans down, stepping out of them, and drops one knee to the couch. He pulls you into his lap, wrapping your legs around his hips. You cling to his shoulders with your left arm and drop your other one behind you for leverage, rolling your hips into his. He meets you with his own thrusts, holding your body to his and burying his face in the crook of your neck. 

He’s so close, you’re so tangled up in each other, he’s so fucking deep inside you, barely even pulling out before rolling back up into you. You fall back onto the couch and he follows, still holding you in his arms as he fucks you. Your orgasm hits you like a wave, rolling over your body and giving you chills as your cunt flutters around his cock. 

He comes with you, fully collapsing down onto you. You should feel crushed under his weight, but it’s comforting. He holds you so tightly it’s like he’s afraid to let go of you. Afraid that when this moment is over you’ll kick him out and he’ll be alone again. Afraid this is the last time he’ll ever get to touch you. 

You pet his hair gently, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. It’s late. You’re so fucked out you feel high and maybe the whiskey is loosening your tongue a little.  

“I don’t understand, Javi. If it feels like this, why won’t you love me? What more could you want from me? What am I missing that you need?” This is going to ruin everything.

Javi pushes up on his elbows to look you in the eye. “Cariño. It’s not you–” 

“I swear to God, Javi, if you use that line on me I will burn your apartment down with you in it.” 

“You don’t understand. You won’t understand. I’m not good. I’m only going to get you hurt or killed.” 

“You already are hurting me, Javi,” you wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him back down to you. 

He’s silent for a long time before he half whispers into your shoulder, “I’m just so afraid.” His voice breaks and you feel a tear land on your skin. You stroke his hair, drag your fingers along his heated skin. 

“I know you, Javi. I know who you are and I don’t care. I think about you all the time. All the fucking time. I can’t stop thinking about you no matter how hard I fucking try. It’s torture.” 

Javi shoves himself away from you, standing and grabbing his jeans off the floor.“That’s my fucking point!” You flinch at his volume. He pulls his jeans on, grabs his boots and crams his feet into them, already heading to the door. He turns around. “I am only ever going to hurt you. I am a bad fucking person. I hurt people on purpose and you are not immune from that just because I care about you or because I love you.”  

You stand and try to take his face in your hands but he grabs your arms and holds you away from him. “I’d let you crack open my chest, rib by rib, while I watched if it meant I could have you. If it meant you’d be mine. Stop running away from me! I’m begging you!” You’re sobbing, yelling, pleading with him to just listen. 

Javi looks at you, brow furrowed, big brown eyes shiny and bloodshot with tears. He lets go of you and steps away slowly, putting distance between the two of you. His mouth opens as if he’s going to say something, but he doesn’t. He drops his head and closes his eyes, takes a shaky breath, and walks out the door.

He knows he will come crawling back to you, tomorrow or a week from now, he can’t ever stay away. But maybe this time the wound will be too raw. He will have hurt you too much, and you will shut him out. He fucking hates it, hates the thought of being without you, hates the way it feels like he’s clawing out his own organs hurting you like this. But this hurt is so much less than what he would do to you given enough time. This wound will scab over, form an angry scar, he will have left his mark on you. But you will heal. 

Working on a ranch isn’t easy, and it usually isn’t even all that fun. But it does have its perks. One such perk is currently on his knees with his face buried in your pussy. One of your legs is over Jack’s shoulder and you use it to pull him even closer, grinding your clit on his hooked nose. Just as you’re about to come, the door to the tack room slams open. You and Jack jump apart and you quickly start stuffing your legs back into your jeans. 

“For FUCKS sake, Daniels. This is the third time this week. Get back to fucking work.” Javier Peña, face red and chest heaving, looks like he just caught his girlfriend cheating on him. “And you. You should fucking know better.” 

You fasten the button of your jeans and smirk at Javi. “Know better than what, Javi?”

“Than to fuck around with some asshole like Daniels.” 

“He’s nicer than you,” you snark before storming out, making sure to slam your shoulder into Javi on the way out the door. He ruined a perfectly good orgasm.

You’ve worked on Chucho’s ranch since you were 15 years old, taking care of the horses at first before graduating to fixing the fences and caring for the cattle as well. You and Javi had been best friends before he ran off to Colombia, spending every day after school and every second of daylight in the summer together on his father’s ranch. 

You had been in the back pew the day he never showed up for his and Lorraine’s wedding. You like to think you had something to do with that. He clearly, clearly, wanted out of Laredo, wanted nothing to do with the wife and 2.5 kids and picket fence life he was barrelling toward. 

His bachelor party was just the two of you drinking in the hayloft, you begging him to do what he’d always wanted to and him going on about duty and obligation. You’d almost kissed him that night, but stopped yourself. He was getting married the next day, for fuck’s sake. You’re glad he listened to you, in the end, even if he disappeared without so much as a goodbye.

In the years he was gone, you never really forgot about him. The truth was that he had been your first love, but you’d never worked up the courage to tell him, and then he was getting married and then he was gone. 

Jack looked so much like Javi that when he first showed up on the ranch, you asked if he was Javi’s cousin or something, a long lost Peña. He assured you he was from Kentucky and had no relation to the Peñas. Jack had been some sort of law enforcement, and the reason he was here on a ranch in Texas was a mystery to everyone but him. There were rumors he was fired, banned from law enforcement altogether, but nothing could be confirmed. He doesn’t seem like the type to have a bad past, but you never really know.

Jack is charming in a loud, overly confident sort of way. He’s smart as a whip and funny to boot. He’s a damn good time and he’s never asked anything of you but a good fuck and better company. It’s really more than you could have hoped for with Javi gone and no other prospects in town… that you had any interest in anyway.

Now, nearly a couple decades after he left, Javi is back working for his dad. He won’t talk about Colombia, even though everyone calls him a hero. You’d think he’d want to brag about his accomplishments down there, but he reminds you of war vets, the way he shuts down when anyone brings it up. 

He’s different now than the old Javi, your Javi, was. He’s surly, quick to snap at people, smokes like a freight train, and never does anything but sit in the bunkhouse and drink. You think you could handle all the change if he’d just talk to you. 

You were so close as kids, but now it’s like you don’t know him at all. The bright, funny, hot-headed kid you knew is gone and some asshole has replaced him. He barely speaks to you at all, but he treats Jack even worse – insinuating Jack can’t do his job, calling him an asshole at any given opportunity, even up and leaving a room when the man walks in. It’s ridiculous and you can’t figure out why he’s acting like this. Jack has never so much as looked at Javi sideways, even after all the harsh treatment.

You head to your room in the bunkhouse, all your work taken care of for the day already. It’s not like you were neglecting your job to hook up with Jack, as much as Javi might like to think that. You push open the door to your room and find Jack lounging in your bed, shirtless and barefoot. 

“Hey there, pretty girl,” Jack smiles at you, his eyes scrunching at the corners. God he’s cute. 

“Hi, cowboy. Made yourself at home, did you?” You start stripping out of your work clothes, not caring about Jack’s presence. Nothing he hasn’t seen before. Jack gets off the bed and pulls your mostly naked body into his chest, nuzzling your neck. 

“We got interrupted earlier.” 

“Fucking asshole. He’s just mad he’s not getting any.”

“May be more right than you know, sugar.”

You quirk an eyebrow at him but shrug off the comment, dropping to your knees and working at Jack’s belt buckle. 

Javi hates that son of a bitch, he really does. He’s always sneaking off work to fuck whatever willing idiot falls for his charming smile and his stupid broad shoulders and his long bowlegs. 

He can’t believe you of all people fell for it, keep falling for it. Sure he’s pretty, but the guy is an asshole. Two days ago, he caught him in the store room with his hand down Jose’s pants. The guy is a slut, plain and simple. You’re too fucking good for him. 

Javi isn’t completely sure why Jack gets under his skin so bad. At least not in any way he’ll admit to himself or anyone else. Jack is charming without being sleazy, smart, good at his job, funny. There were rumors that Jack had done bad things in his past, though there’s nothing about the man that indicates he had, aside from his silence on the topic. Something Javi can’t honestly hold against him, considering his own refusal to open up. There’s no real reason for Javi to hate him, but he does. Everything the other man does sets him into a rage, his face hot, chest heaving, fists clenching. He wants to put his fist through a wall. 

He’s not quite sure where he went wrong with you. Sure, leaving for nearly 20 years does a number on a friendship, but he’s pretty sure it shouldn’t be this bad. You haven’t done anything wrong, other than fuck around with Jack, but every time he speaks to you now it’s a biting remark. A criticism of your work ethic, your choice in bed fellows, even your outfits. It’s like he has no control over his own damn mouth.

Javi knows he’s in the wrong, knows he should apologize for his comment earlier. He heads to the bunkhouse to find you. Your room is two doors down and across the hall from his. Javi doesn’t bother knocking, pushing the door open.

“Hey, do you have a sec–” Javi freezes in your doorway, catching an eyeful of you with Jack fucking Daniels’ cock in your mouth. Jack catches his eye and fucking winks at him. Javi ignores the twitch in his jeans and closes the door, stalking down the hall to his own room and slamming his door behind him.

Twice in one day? Seriously? He takes back the apology before he can ever offer it to you. This is just ridiculous. What do you see in Jack that you don’t see in him? And that’s the crux of it, isn’t it? Javi wants you for himself and he’s pissed that Jack got to you while you he was off not catching Escobar. 

There’s a knock on his door and then, “Peña?” Fucking Jack Daniels. 

“Piss off, Whiskey. Not in the mood.”

Jack opens the door anyway, steps inside and shuts it behind him. Javi takes his disheveled hair, still bare chest and feet. The man hadn’t even bothered to button his jeans. Javi is on his feet in the other man’s face in seconds. “I said piss off, Daniels. Something about that you don’t understand?” 

“No need to be hostile, Peña, I just wanted to check on you. Stormed out of there pretty quick.” Jack doesn’t back up an inch. 

“Forgive me if I don’t want to see her with your cock down her throat.” 

“Why, Jav? You like her or something?” Javi shoves Jack until his back hits the wall, hard. “Or is it because you’re afraid you’ll like it too much?” Javi sees red. He swings on Jack, but Jack catches his fist and pulls the other man into his chest. 

“Fuck you,” Javi growls it, lips almost grazing Jack’s, their mouths are so close together. 

“That an offer?” Jack smirks. If Jack didn’t know better, he’d think he heard Javi’s breath hitch in his throat at that. Before he can wonder if Javi is gonna try to hit him again, Javi crashes their lips together. 

Jack drops Javi’s arm and grabs the collar of his shirt in both hands instead. Jack licks into Javi’s mouth, slots a thigh between Javi’s and feels the other man’s cock getting hard against his leg. Jack walks him back toward the bed, tugging at the buttons of Javi’s shirt. 

Suddenly, the door opens and Javi flies back from Jack as if he’d shoved him, sprawling on the bed. Jack doesn’t even turn to look at you, just stares Javi down.

 “Hey, I heard…” you trail off, taking in the scene in front of you. Jack standing in the middle of the room, looking even more disheveled than the state you’d left him in. Javi spread out on the bed, shirt half untucked and half unbuttoned, his dick clearly hard in his jeans. “What am I looking at here?”

“Nothing,” Javi spits out. 

“Me and Jav had a little fight, but we kissed and made up, Sugar.” Jack winks at you and you feel your cheeks heat, feel a flutter of arousal in your belly. 

“Oh really?” You run your tongue along your top teeth, trying and failing to contain a smirk.

Javi furrows his brow at you. Do you sound… excited? Jack glances back and forth between the two of you. 

“Why don’t you close the door?” Jack asks you, his voice low. You kick the door closed behind you and walk over to Javi. You take his face in your hands and tug him toward you until he’s sitting up on the bed.

“Close your mouth ‘fore flies get in, baby.” He snaps his jaw shut and you press a chaste kiss to his lips. “This okay?” Javi nods slowly. You climb onto the bed, straddling Javi’s thighs, and kiss him again, deeper and longer than the first. 

Jack makes his way across the room and settles on his knees behind Javi, gripping his hips and pressing his lips behind his ear. 

“How about this? Is this okay?” Jack whispers. 

“Y-yeah,” Javi honest to god stutters. This is not where he thought this was going. He doesn’t even like men. Not usually. 

Javi kisses you like his fucking life depends on it. He sucks your tongue into his mouth, tangles his own with yours. Drags his mouth down your jaw line, your throat, leaves a mark on your collarbone. You finish unbuttoning Javi’s shirt and Jack pulls it off him and tosses it on the floor before he sucks his own mark into Javi’s neck and Javi bites back a moan at the feeling. He buries his face in the crook of your neck. 

“I um- I don’t really-” Javi’s face burns hot. He doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing. 

“It’s alright, I gotcha.” Jack runs his hands up and down Javi’s sides, soothing him. “Let’s start with something you’re familiar with, huh? Or at least I hope you are.” Jack slides off the bed, silently communicating with you what his plan is. 

You push Javi until he’s on his back in the center of the bed. You stand up and strip your panties and t-shirt off before you crawl up his body, dropping kisses on the soft curve of his stomach, his chest, his throat. You settle your knees on either side of his head, your soaked pussy hovering just over his face. This he can do, he thinks.

He grabs your thighs and licks a stripe from your core to your clit. You moan, one hand braced on the wall in front of you and the other fisted in his hair. He pulls you flush with his mouth and starts moving your hips for you, making you ride his face. He thrusts his tongue in and out of you while you grind on his nose, much like you had Jack’s earlier. They’re both so fucking beautiful, fuck. 

Jack gets situated between Javi’s spread thighs and takes in the sight of you straddling his face. It might be the most gorgeous thing he’s ever seen. Your head thrown back in ecstasy, Javi’s strong arms pulling you back and forth on his face. 

Jack palms Javi through his jeans and he hears him moan into your skin. Jack strips his own jeans off, then drags Javi’s down far enough to free his cock. Jack’s mouth waters at the sight. Javi is thick, long, uncut. Fuckin’ gorgeous. He sucks the tip of Javi’s cock into his mouth, savoring the salty taste of his precum. Javi lets out a deep, muffled groan straight into your core and it sends you over the edge. Your cries only encourage Jack more and he takes Javi to the root, bobbing his head up and down the man’s length. 

Javi holds you to his face while he works you through your orgasm. He finally lets you go, and you fall to the side to catch your breath and shake off the aftershocks. 

Javi slides both hands into Jack’s hair, thrusting lightly into Jack’s mouth. Jack reaches a hand between his own legs and strokes himself while he lets Javi use his throat. You just came, but the sight of the two men together has your cunt clenching around nothing. You drop your hand to your clit and rub circles in time to Javi’s thrusts. 

Javi pulls Jack off him abruptly. “Fuck- you’re really good at that.”

“I know,” Jack smirks at Javi, his voice rough. 

“I’d really like to come in her tight little cunt though, instead of your mouth.” Javi looks over to you, eyes full of lust. “If that’s okay?” 

“More than okay, baby.” You shoo the boys off the bed and lay across it with your head hanging off the edge. Jack moves to stand by your head and slips the head of his cock between your open lips. Javi feels a twinge of jealousy at the way you both seem to know exactly what the other wants without saying a word aloud. But then you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him closer to you and he lets it go. If this is the only time Javi gets to have you, he’s not going to waste it being jealous of the guy who just sucked him off. 

Javi drags his cock through your soaked folds. “So wet for us, baby.” Javi groans as he pushes inside you, slowly sliding in to the hilt. “Fuck, you feel so good.” 

Jack cradles your head in one hand while he shallowly fucks your throat, playing with your tits with his free hand. He tweaks your left nipple and you moan around his cock. Every thrust from Javi pushes you further down Jack’s length, forcing him to fuck your throat. You’ve never been used like this before, like some sort of proxy for two men to fuck each other, but you fucking love it. You feel close to coming again already, and no one has touched your clit in minutes. 

Jack pulls Javi to him and crashes their mouths together. Javi lets Jack plunder his mouth for a moment before sucking on the other man’s tongue, drawing a moan from the cowboy’s throat. He may have never kissed a man, but he’s been with enough women to manage that. 

The two men sync up, thrusting into your holes at the same time and you feel like you’re ascending to another fucking plane of existence. There are no thoughts in your head except for Javi and Jack and how fucking amazing you feel. And, briefly, the thought of them both stuffed in your core, stuffing you fuller than you’ve ever been. You clench at that thought, and Javi has enough presence of mind to drop his hand to your mound, rubbing messy circles on your clit. 

Your body tenses, back arching as you get closer and closer to the edge, which only serves to open your throat up more for Jack. Javi grabs your hips with both hands and starts pulling you onto his cock, hitting your g-spot every time. Suddenly, your entire body tenses and your pussy flutters around Javi’s thick cock. Your vision blacks out as your eyes roll into the back of your head, coming harder than you ever have before.

Jack comes down your throat with absolutely no warning, too lost in Javi’s mouth on his and your mouth around his cock to say a word. You grab his hips and hold him deep in your throat, swallowing around him. The force of his orgasm knocks him forward on the bed, hands planted on either side of your hips and face buried in the crook of Javi’s neck as he paints your throat. 

Javi thrusts into you a few more times before his hips still, flush with yours. He comes deep inside you for what feels like forever, his cum spilling out of you and dripping onto the bed. 

He pulls out of you slowly, dropping a kiss to your thigh before he goes to get a towel to clean you up. When he comes back, he finds you with your legs thrown over Jack’s shoulders, the man eating Javi’s cum out of your cunt. Javi’s spent dick gives a valiant twitch at the sight. 

“Guess I didn’t need the towel then?” Javi jokes, tossing it onto the bedside table and climbing back onto the bed. Jack sucks your clit into his mouth one last time and pulls off with a pop. 

“Guess not,” Jack smirks. You and Jack settle in beside Javi, Jack pulling the man’s head to his chest and you resting your head on Javi’s torso. You all sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes. 

“You’re not uh-” Javi closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “You’re not gonna tell my old man I-”

“That you like boys?” you snicker. 

“Not foolin’ anyone in those tight little jeans you wear, Jav.”

Javi presses his fingers into his eyelids and takes another deep breath. “Guys I’m serious.” 

“Of course. We won’t tell anyone. Not til you’re ready.” You lean up and kiss his cheek before nuzzling back into Javi’s tummy. 

“So you gonna tell her, or am I?” Jack looks like a kid in a candy store.

You sit up quickly. “Tell me what?” 

“Don’t–” Javi tries to plead with Jack.

“Sugar, he tried to hit me for messing around with you,” Jack interrupts. “Think he might have a crush.” 

“What the fuck, man?” Javi’s brow furrows so deep you think it might get stuck that way. 

Jack ignores him and addresses you, “He’s always starin’ at you and checking up on you and asking you for shit he can damn well get himself.”

“Javi, is it true?” 

Javi looks up at the ceiling as if he’s praying for God to have mercy on him. 

“Yeah, hermosa. It’s true. Lo- Liked you since I was a kid.” 

You smile so wide it hurts and wrap your arms around Javi, pulling him to you for another long, deep kiss. “Javi, baby, I was in love with you before you ever even got with Lorraine. And I never stopped loving you. Jack was just a stand-in, until he wasn’t.” You look over at Jack with a wince. “Sorry, Jack. No offense?” 

“None taken, sugar.” Jack smiles good-naturedly and kisses you on the forehead. “Could we do this again sometime? Or are y’all cuttin’ me out of the deal now?” 

“You’re not going anywhere, cowboy. Javi likes you too.” 

“Wait really?” Jack seems genuinely surprised. 

Javi drops his head into his hands and groans. “I need a fucking cigarette.”

Oh and here's a silly little moodboard thing I made

The knife twists at the thought that I should fall short of the mark Frightened by the bite, though it's no harsher than the bark

Javier Peña is probably the best fuck you’ve ever had in your life. Actually, scratch that. He’s definitely the best fuck you’ve ever had in your life. He makes you feel things you’ve never felt before. Coming three times in one night with him is the absolute bare minimum. He loves it when you scream for him. Does everything in his power to get you a noise complaint from your neighbors. 

And God is he gorgeous. Long and lean with strong arms, broad shoulders, a tiny waist, a perky ass. His nose looks like it was carved off a greek statue and placed on his face. He’s got these big sad brown eyes, full lips framed by a neatly trimmed mustache, and a jawline that could cut glass. You’re probably in love with him. 

You put out your cigarette when you hear the door open, lay back in the bed and stare at the ceiling. It’s five in the morning, but you never turn him away. No matter what time. 

“Shouldn’t leave the door unlocked, hermosa,” Javi’s deep drawl drifts across the room to you. 

“Knew you were coming. Didn’t wanna have to get up.” 

Javi drops his shirt on the floor and crawls up the bed, draping himself over you and pressing a kiss to your lips. “No es seguro, cariño. Anyone could walk in.” (It’s not safe, baby).

“Lo que sea, Javi.” (Whatever, Javi). You roll your eyes at him. “It’s locked now, no?” 

Javi drags his lips along your jaw, nips at your throat, drags a finger through your folds. “Wet already, baby? Were you thinking of me?” 

You were, but you kind of hate him for being right. “Fuck you, Jav–” his name drags out into a moan as he stuffs two thick fingers inside you. He pumps his fingers in and out a couple times before curling them up into the spongy spot inside you. You throw your head back in pleasure, back arching and hips thrusting so that you’re practically riding his fingers. 

He wraps the fingers of his free hand carefully around your throat. “Mírame.” (Look at me). You force your eyes open and he’s so close you could count the individual hairs in his mustache. You look into his eyes with so much adoration, so much love, he has to look away. He squeezes your throat tighter and you close your eyes again as your cunt tightens on his fingers. 

He rubs circles on your clit in time with the thrust of his fingers, feeling you wind tighter and tighter around him. His hand on your throat isn’t blocking air, but you still can’t catch your breath. When your body is so tense it feels like you’ll shatter into a million pieces, he releases the hand on your throat. You gasp in a big breath and fall apart in his hands. He works you through it with firm, slow strokes. 

Just as you feel yourself start to come down, he picks up the pace again. He places the hand that was on your throat on your pelvis, holding you down on the mattress and rubs his thumb in quick, hard circles on your clit. He pumps his fingers into you hard and fast. 

“Come for me, hermosa. Come all over my hand.” 

Your vision whites out and you let out a near agonized scream as you clench around his fingers and gush all over him. Javi pulls his fingers out of you and slips them into your mouth. You suck the taste of yourself off his fingers. 

“Good girl,” he growls in your ear. He stands up, leaving you panting on the bed, and strips his jeans off. He strokes himself as he gets back on the bed, hand still slick with your cum. He pulls your thighs over his and you wrap your legs around him. He drags his cock through your folds and watches you shudder. 

“You’re soaked… You want me to fuck you?” The bastard is teasing you. You whine his name. “Las palabras, cariño.” (Words, baby). 

“Need you, Javi. Please. I need you so bad,” you’re desperate, aching for him. He taps your clit with the head of his cock one more time before lining up with your entrance and pushing in. You let out an absolutely wrecked moan, voice breaking as he bottoms out. 

He leans forward, planting his hands on either side of your head and pulls out before plunging back down inside you. He has your hips tilted almost vertically, driving you down into the mattress with every thrust. You dig your nails into the meat of his shoulders and drag them down his back, making him groan into your neck. 

Fucking Javi is always a religious experience. You find salvation and damnation at once in his arms and you swear you see God himself when you come on his cock. 

Javi doesn’t slow down despite the way you clench around him. He often works out his frustrations in your body, tries to bury them and himself in you. 

He pulls out and flips you over by your hips, sheathing himself inside you the second you’re on your knees in front of him. He fists one hand in your hair and pulls your back to his chest, wrapping the other hand around your breast. 

You lay your head on his shoulder and let the pleasure wash over you, lose yourself in it completely. You only exist in this moment, the pleasure and pain melding to form something divine inside you. He bites down on your neck and you come on his cock again, and you think you scream. You aren’t quite sure. 

Javi groans as he slams into you one, two, three more times and collapses forward onto the bed, trapping you under him. He stays inside you for a few more moments, nuzzling your neck. His lips catch your ear lobe as he pulls himself out of you and falls to the bed beside you. He wraps his arms around you, curling his body around yours, and holds you close. 

You lie in silence for a long time, just listening to each other breathe. This has become routine. Javi has a bad day at work and takes it out on your body in this bed. He never talks about it, about why he needs such a frenzied release, but you can guess. 

Sometimes, though, he’ll talk about growing up in Laredo or about a nice dinner he had with Connie and Steve or about an op that went well. Sometimes he lets you see beneath his hardened exterior. 

The truth is that you’re definitely in love with him. But Javi won’t ever be with you, not in the way you want. Javi won’t commit to being with you because this, what you just did, is all he thinks he deserves and all he knows how to do. He loves making you feel good, takes pride in making you come over and over and over. He loves making you moan and whine and scream for him. He loves it when you tell him how good he feels, how perfect he is, how pretty his cock is. He just doesn’t love you.

He always curls up with you, snuggles you close, clings to you. But if you bring up wanting something more, something defined and committed, he fucking runs. He can give you himself physically, but he can’t let you near his heart because it is rotten and caving in and no good. And you? You are good. He can’t touch you with that. The dark and broken part of himself. He can’t infect your good with his bad.

You know this and yet… 

A tear slips from your lashes, trailing down your cheek and falling onto the arm tucked under your cheek. 

“Cariño, ¿por qué lloras? (Baby, why are you crying?) He sounds… fucking anguished. “¿Te lastimé?” (Did I hurt you?)

“It’s nothing, Jav.” 

Javi sits up, grabs your face in his hands and makes you look at him. “It’s something. Dime.” (Tell me). 

“If I tell you, you’ll just fucking leave again, Javi. I can’t do this right now. Just hold me, please? Be here when I wake up?” 

Javi searches your eyes for a moment. You aren’t sure what he sees there. Heartbreak? Resignation? Desperation? Whatever it is convinces him.