#pedros12daysofchristmas

“Thanks,” he says, sitting up straighter to take it from her. She glides away down the aisle and he sips the drink, grimaces. “For what the tickets cost, you’d think they could serve better whiskey.”

You take the drink from his hand and try it, wincing as the harsh burn of the liquor stings your throat. “Well, we are a captive audience.”

Javier takes another stubborn swig. “Whoever said getting there is half the fun was full of shit.”

You can’t help but laugh at his grumbling. “You might want to practice watching your mouth, Agent Peña. There’ll be lots of little ears around at your dad’s house.”

“Don’t I know it. I hope you’re ready to be mobbed.”

“Beats drowning in paperwork and hearing again about the time Feistl almost got shot by the Jamaican,” you say mildly. “I think the bullet gets closer to his head every time he tells that story.”

He huffs out a laugh, dismissing the half-finished drink to a tray table.

You can see the shift in his thoughts as his dark eyes roam over your face to settle on your mouth with a speculative gaze. The slow, unconscious tease of his tongue at his plush lower lip is hypnotic.

A lift of his chin and his eyes go half-lidded, sultry. “Come here.”

As always, you’re a moth to flame.

It’s a restrained kiss, just a soft, lazy press of his lips that toes the line of appropriateness in public, but it’s enough to spark a tendril of warmth that unfurls like an opening flower in your chest.

Especially with the hitch in his breath when your fingertips wander to the firm muscle of his inner thigh.

Javier breaks the kiss with a knowing smirk, eyes molten with the unspoken promise of later, and a grin pulls at your lips.

“I guess the DEA’s golden boy can’t really risk being caught with his girlfriend in an airplane bathroom, huh?”

“Stechner would have a fu-- a freaking field day,” he amends at the teasing quirk of your brows. With a kiss to your temple, he leans back in his seat again, checking his watch.

You tuck your feet underneath you, turn sideways in your seat to smile at him. “I’m going to make it my mission to have you so relaxed by the end of the week you’ve forgotten Stechner exists.”

He laughs, reaching for his jacket to rummage for his pack of nicotine gum. “Do your worst, querida.”

***

Chucho Peña’s barn is as expansive as his personality, and it’s been transformed into a festive haven for Christmas Eve. Lights and decorations dress up the plain space, Javier’s aunts preside over tables groaning with food, and the music that blares through speakers blends with the buzz of conversation and children’s laughter. You sit at a table with Javier, catching your breath after a round of mingling and introductions and watching the handful of revelers who’ve taken to the impromptu dance floor in the center of the barn.

It’s...peaceful. Despite the whirl of activity around you, you’re more relaxed than you’ve been in ages, and Javier hasn’t heard the name “Escobar” all night. He’s still Laredo’s hero and probably always will be, but the novelty has lost enough of its shine that people are beginning to treat him like the boy who grew up there instead of the man who came back.

“You get enough to eat?” Javier passes you his bottle of beer. “They’re bringing out another round of pies.”

You take a sip, resisting the urge to press the dewy bottle against your warm cheek. “I’ve been eating since we got here. Nobody could go hungry with your family.”

“Wait ‘til you see the spread for lunch tomorrow,” he says, with a wry grin.

A strong hand rests on your shoulder and you turn to find your host smiling down at you, white cowboy hat like a halo in the glow of the colorful fairy lights all around.

“You two having a good time?”

“Yeah, Pops.” Javier pushes a chair out beside him. “Join us.”

Chucho shakes his head, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Came to ask the lady for a dance.”

His fatherly kindness warms you, as it has from the moment you arrived in Texas. Javier is so different from his father in so many ways, and yet you can see Chucho’s shadow in his unguarded moments of selflessness and generosity.

Handing Javier his beer back, you get to your feet with a smile. “I’d love to.”

Chucho is a patient partner, waving off your apologies when you step on his toes and finally settling into a sedate sway when your efforts to keep up with the rest of the clan prove hopeless.

Between snippets of conversation, you catch a glimpse of Javier back at the table. He’s gained new company in your absence.

Four-year-old Emilia, the daughter of a cousin whose name escapes you now, has made herself at home, elbows resting on Javier’s knees and a bedraggled Barbie doll trailing from one hand while she regales him with animated chatter.

Your heart swells at the picture. Javier’s eyebrows leap at something the little girl says, punctuated with a wave of the doll. His dimple makes an appearance even as his jaw steadily works his gum -- because, bless him, he really is trying to quit -- and he chucks her under the chin with amusement crinkling his eyes.

“He’s happy with you.” Chucho’s voice breaks into your thoughts, and you find him following your gaze. “More than I’ve ever seen him.”

“He deserves to be happy. Convincing him of that is a work in progress,” you admit.

“Sometimes I worry about him...worry he won’t leave Colombia with his soul,” he confesses, keen eyes meeting yours. “But seeing him with you gives me hope. You keep taking good care of him.”

“I will. I promise.” You squeeze his hand. “Thank you for having me here for Christmas, Chucho. You’ve made me feel like family.”

His rugged face wrinkles with a smile. “I hope it’s the first of many Christmases, mija. You’re always welcome here.”

“Can I cut in?”

Javier’s voice materializes over your shoulder, husky and warm, sending a thrill down your spine. Your stomach fills with butterflies just like it did the first time you ever saw him, and you’re struck by how effortlessly handsome he is with the tension gone from his shoulders and his lush mouth softened by a smile.

With a pat of your cheek and a clap to Javier’s back, Chucho disappears in the direction of the pie table and you drift into Javier’s arms.

“Did you get to the embarrassing childhood stories?”

“I did hear one about you and your cousins and a stolen pack of firecrackers.” You give him a teasing grin. “But I have to admit it’s hard to imagine you as a little kid. You seem like someone who just sprang into existence with a perma-frown and a nicotine problem.”

“Smartass.”

“You love it.”

He can’t stifle a smile when he leans in to kiss you, because yeah, he does.

His lips are slow to leave yours, coming back for little lingering pecks before you finally break away to nuzzle his nose with your own.

“Careful, we might scandalize your tías.”

“If they didn’t want kissing, they shouldn’t have put up mistletoe.” As if in defiance, he plants another chaste kiss on your mouth. “Besides, if I know Tía Lupe, she’s already asked you when we’re getting married.”

“The direct quote was, ‘you’re not getting any younger, honey, you want to give him babies.’ I think she and my grandmother are using the same playbook.”

He laughs, looking away across the crowd of his assembled relatives and family friends. “Told you they’d like you.”

You’re both quiet for a moment, his arms coming a little more tightly around you as you lean your head on his shoulder and breathe in the scent of him.

“I’m glad we came, Javi,” you finally say. “Thank you for bringing me.”

He presses a kiss into your hair, exhales a deep breath against you. “I’m glad you’re here.”

***

A cheery little tabletop tree casts multicolored puddles of light around the guest room in Chucho’s ranch house. 

It’s after midnight when the festivities come to a close and the various family members go their separate ways until Christmas lunch. You and Javier had walked with Chucho back to the house, where you promptly changed into pajamas, brushed your teeth, and flopped onto the comfortable bed.

Javier has stripped to his jeans, standing bare-chested in the doorway. “G'night, Pops,” he calls into the darkened house.

Chucho’s voice echoes back, “’Night,” and the shaft of light in the hallway shrinks and disappears with his bedroom door closing behind him.

Javier shuts your own door and you’re alone in the sanctuary of the cozy room. Of each other.

He’s at ease, maybe more than ever before. You see it in the lightness of his brow, the loose set of his arms, the fleeting freedom from the burdens of his job taking years off of him and enveloping you both in this temporary peace.

His jeans are slung low on his hips, their button carelessly undone, and you watch him walk to the dresser, envious of the dim lamplight that kisses the sculpted muscle of his back.

He takes something from the top drawer and comes to sit beside you on the bed. With no preamble but a lift of his brows, he hands you a small box wrapped in brightly colored paper.

“What’s this?” You let a coy smile hint at teasing him.

His mustache twitches with amusement. “Well, it is Christmas.”

“Christmas Eve,” you remind him in mock seriousness. “Santa hasn’t been here yet.”

“I can take it back if you want.”

You clutch the package to your chest, and he laughs.

“So open it.”

You do. And find, nestled in tissue paper, a bracelet of silver links interspersed with cabochons of moonstone and turquoise.

“Javi,” you whisper, touching the delicate stones.

“It was my mom’s. I, uh--” His jaw ticks to the side as he watches you take it out of the box. “I asked Pops for it. He liked the idea of you having it too.”

He doesn’t talk much about his mother, even to you, and despite his attempt at a casual air you feel the weight of the gesture.

“Javi, it’s beautiful. I’m honored to wear it.”

You slip the bracelet onto your wrist, let his stroking fingers admire it, revel in the spark of possessive pride that heats the fathomless depths of his eyes. The silver shines against the darkness of his hair when you slide your hands into it to kiss him.

“I love it,” you murmur against his mouth. “I love you. Thank you.”

His arms come around you, warm hands slipping under your tank top. Large palms flatten over your back and drift slowly to span your ribs. He lets his thumbs graze the soft underside of your breasts, so lightly he’s barely there, but the feathery contact sends desire arrowing through you, sharp and sweet, to bloom hot at your core.

He catches your needy sigh of his name with his lips, lets it drip over his tongue like honey. Greedily plunders your mouth for more as quick hands whisk the thin fabric over your head and a shift of his weight eases you down onto the bed.

Your hand trails over the smooth, golden skin of his chest, skimming the thatch of soft hair low on his belly as he pushes himself to stand, unzipping his jeans and shucking them off. At a tap of his fingers on your hip you arch off of the mattress to let him slide your sleep shorts off, and then he’s crawling back onto the bed to sit beside you. With a touch as gentle as it is firm he draws you to him, folding long legs to coax you to his lap, your thighs bracketing his in a warm press of bare skin and your arms settling around his shoulders.

“Looked so pretty tonight.” The words are muffled against your throat, laced with small, sucking kisses. “Damn near left the party to bring you back here.”

Javier is not a man for poems or flowery declarations. But it’s when you’re together like this, when his hands and lips map your tender skin and your nails bite into the muscle of his shoulders as you tremble and shatter under his touch, that his tongue is loosened in his own language of love.

When he finally fills you, wraps you in his strong arms and gives himself over to the refuge he finds in your body, it’s a steady stream of praises panted into your skin, rasped against your lips: you’re so good for him, you take him so well, you’re the only one he wants, corazón, te quiero.

I love you.

You’re his safe place, and he’s yours.

“Come with me, querida.” His gritted command pierces the haze of desperate, spiraling need and your body obeys, his name a gasp in your throat as blinding pleasure replaces the blood in your veins with fire.

He surges up once, twice, muscles tensing to steel with a sound like the breath has been punched out of him.

And then he collapses, going pliant against you, the grip of his arms slackened around your waist. His heavy breaths fan hot and damp over your neck while you hold him inside you, hands tracing idle, soothing patterns on his sweat-slicked back. Your lips find his temple, his hair, and he answers with gentle nips at the soft skin of your jawline.

Reluctantly, he separates from you, a low groan escaping him at the loss of your warmth. With the last of his energy he stretches to flick off the lamp, leaving only the muted glow of the tiny Christmas tree.

Dropping to his side on the bed, he reaches for you, tucks you close to his broad chest. His smile is lazy, sleepy-eyed with perfect relaxation as he sweeps stray strands of hair away from your face to press a kiss to your forehead.

“I’ll give you your other present in the morning,” you tease, still a little breathless.

A soft huff of laughter, and another brush of his lips, just above your brow. “Baby, I’ve got everything I need right here.”

You’re almost floating, drowsy and light, a mirror of Javier’s contentment.

He’s closed his eyes, dark lashes resting on his cheeks and the creases in his forehead smoothed as his fingers stroke gently over your hair.

“Querida,” he murmurs.

You hum in answer, slipping a foot between his.

“Maybe Tía Lupe’s got the right idea.”

If you thought you couldn’t be more in love, he’s proven you wrong.

“Maybe we should talk about it in the morning,” you whisper through a giddy smile.

The shadow of a dimple darkens his cheek with his minute nod.

You kiss his neck, nuzzling into the steady thrum of his pulse, the metronome that keeps the time of your own heart.

You wanted everything to be perfect. You had started well before Thanksgiving, digging out decorations for the tree you were planning on getting and already had half of his Christmas hidden in the spare bedroom closet. Somewhere he would never go.

Frowning, you look at the website where you had planned to order your advent calendars like you did every year. It was the one thing that you hadn’t been able to find so far and they were sold out.

Advent calendars marked the days for you. It was fun, a little treat to look forward to everyday as you count down the days to Christmas. Frankie had a sweet tooth and you wanted to share in the indulgence of this tradition. “Man, what do I do now?” You ask yourself.

“What’s the matter, baby?” You jump slightly, thinking that Frankie was out tinkering in the garage. He leans over the back of the sofa and presses his lips to your cheek gently. You turn and give him a proper kiss, enjoying the way that he lingers over it with a smile playing over his lips.

“They are out of advent calendars.” You sigh, turning back to the computer screen and clicking on another page. “I really wanted to share this with you. It always marks the days.”

He comes around the end of the sofa and plops down next to you, throwing his arm around your shoulder and looking at the screen. “Oh I remember those.” He says. “We got a couple of them in the care packages. Filled with chocolate, right?”

“Yeah, most of them are. Others have different things in them, but the ones I love have chocolate in them.” Leaning your head over you rest it on his shoulder and close your eyes, breathing in the scent of him. The laundry detergent mixed with his soap and his own scent never failed to calm you down. Now it was combined with the cinnamon and cardamom that you had used to make the cider you had brewed this morning. Frankie peering over your shoulder and sneaking tastes when he could.

“We could always make our own.” You lift your head to look at him. His eyes are focused on the screen as he looks at it thoughtfully. “Yeah. It shouldn’t be too hard.” He looks at you and grins. “Then you can have more than one piece of chocolate.”

“You want to?” You ask, excited about the prospect of still being able to share this with him. Making the advent calendar sounded fun, and it was something you could do together.

“Yeah, baby.” He presses a kiss to your hair. “I want us to enjoy the holiday. And if you love these calendars, let's make one.”

“How about we each make one? I’ll make one for you and you can make one for me.” You suggest, typing in ideas and bringing up the search page. “It doesn't have to be fancy.”

He chuckled and pointed at one picture. “Why don’t we do it like that?” He asks. It was a simple design. Cups glued together in the shape of a Christmas tree and covered with colored tissue paper.

“That’s perfect!” You click on it and marvel at how simple the design is. “We have everything we need.”

“Not everything.” Frankie smirks and nods towards the kitschen. “I might have eaten the rest of the candy last night.”

Rolling your eyes, you bump him with your shoulder. “I swear you can eat your weight in candy, Morales.” You tell him playfully. “Okay, we can go to the store and get the stuff to fill them and make our own.” You smile, already knowing that you are going to get Frankie’s favorite candies to put in your version of a calendar for him.

Half an hour later, you are back home. Bags of candy that each of you had bought, playfully hiding them from one another and claiming it was going to be a surprise. You hadn’t seen this side of him often. Playful and relaxed, it made his kind eyes even warmer and you loved how much that boyish grin lit up his entire face, showing off that sweet dimple.

Multiple glue sticks were sacrificed, but your tree shaped cup-calendars were built. You had giggled and cut tissue paper squares while Frankie had sworn and stuck his finger in his mouth every time he burned himself with the hot glue. Sometimes you had to laugh at him. Give the man a wrench and he can fix anything, give him a glue gun and he's out of his element. Even with that, the Christmas music still played and the mood was light.

You took your tree into the kitchen while Frankie stayed in the dining room. Each one of you decided that the other couldn’t see what was being put into the slots to make it a bit more special when you opened it. Carefully closing them up with tissue paper and a rubber band, you smiled at the result. You had gone the extra mile and written the days on tissue paper in scrolling numbers and were very happy with how it looked. It was honestly more exciting to make this for Frankie than you had imagined and hopefully he would continue the tradition with you.

Every night, the two of you would sit together and open your day, laughing at the candy or chocolate that the other put inside for you and most often it was followed by sharing the treat and kisses in front of the fireplace.

The lights from the tree twinkled and slowly the presents started to stack up around it. Small parcels and packages that each one of you had snuck in and wrapped when the other wasn’t looking. The tins of cookies sat on the table, ready to be delivered to the neighbors who had been so kind to you since you had moved in. Overall, it was the best holiday you could remember since you were a child.

Christmas Eve had finally come. You laughed when Frankie dragged you over to where the calendars sat, every one of them opened save for one. His eager expression made you lean over and kiss his scruffy jawline, just a touch neater than it had been this morning. Because he is so eager you let him open his first, the cup filled with all of his favorite candies and he immediately starts opening one to take a bite before offering the other half to you.

When you reach for yours, you feel him shift beside you, moving his weight from foot to foot. Tearing through the thin tissue paper, you find a velvet box instead of the chocolate you had been expecting. Pulling it out, the size and shape of the black velvet makes your eyes widen and you look at Frankie in surprise.

He’s biting his lip, his eyes watching you carefully to gauge your reaction. Reaching for your hand, he tugs you over a few steps to kneel down in front of the fireplace, the Christmas tree over his shoulder. “Baby, I- I’ve been trying to think of a way to propose to you, to show you how much I love you and ask you to be my wife. I want to spend every Christmas with you, making new traditions and celebrating your favorite ones. I hope that it’s okay, using your advent calendar for this.” He takes a breath and smiles at you. “Will you marry me?” He asks, reaching up and opening the box in your hand to reveal an engagement ring.

“Francisco.” You nod eagerly, choking out his name as tears build up in your eyes. “Yes. Yes I will marry you.”

He smiles in relief, standing and kissing you passionately. His mouth pressed to yours as he holds you against him. You can feel his heart thudding in his chest and know he must have been so nervous, but he shouldn’t have been. Your answer would always be yes.

He pulls back and cups your cheek, his eyes just as emotional as yours as he smiles again, pressing his forehead against yours. You look down at the ring in the box and then back up at him. “I think this is my favorite advent calendar of all.” You whisper. “Even if I didn’t get chocolate today.”

Frankie laughs and kisses you again. “I’ll share mine with you, baby. Don’t worry. We have so many more Christmases together.”

That night he took you home to his place where he reminded you what he struggled so much to say. That he loved you.

His tongue and lips clamped down onto your aching clit as his fingers worked you through your third orgasm. The pleasure was blinding as he sucked and fucked you with his tongue. And when he slid his cock inside you, tears landed gracelessly on your face as he thrust slowly and achingly into you. You reach up and place your hands on his face, neither of you needing to speak;  only needing the gentle touch of the other to ground you. And when he came inside you, groaning as his eyes stayed locked on your own, clenching around him, you knew that this was it. No one in the world would ever compare to Javier Peña.

After that night you didn’t return home to your apartment, except to pack and give your notice. Javi, Steve, and Connie helped you move your things into his apartment and nothing was ever said again.

Javier stared at the flickering candlelight and sighed -  he should have been home hours ago, but paperwork and the never ending bureaucratic bullshit of the embassy had kept him late. Even Steve had gone home early, although he had a child so he had more of a reason - but still. Christmas was the time to be with family and even though it was small, you were his family.

Javier crossed the street and climbed the stairs two at a time, reaching the door in record time. He unlocked the door and quietly stepped inside. Putting his keys in the blue and white ceramic bowl you bought at the market a couple of weeks ago and taking off his shoes next to the small pile. The light flickered from the TV in the living room, sounds of an over the top telenovela wafting through the space. Over the top of the couch sat a red and white novelty Santa hat and Javier smiled until the hat moved. He approached cautiously coming around the couch; breath catching and cock hardening at the site.

You were sprawled out on the couch Santa hat laying precariously on your head. One of his white button-up shirts unbuttoned and underneath peek-a-booed a red lingerie set lined with white fur trim. The crotch missing from the panties, your cunt on full display for him, and glistening in the flickering light from the candles. All clipped carefully into the white garter belt and stockings ending with the sharp black heels with a large gold buckle. The gift you had teased him on the phone with hours ago laid out before him. Waiting to be unwrapped.

He slowly peeled off his leather jacket and unbuttoned his shirt, letting it fall onto the couch, pulling off his socks and tossing them. Javi uncrossed your ankles and gently placed your feet a bit wider giving him room to drop to his knees before you. He licked his lips as he watched your chest rise and fall with each breath. He scooted closer and placed a warm hand on your inner thigh, kissing the skin over the stockings gently. Taking the time to worship your thighs and legs that he adored before moving closer to your heat. Taking one finger he gently ran it through your folds, collecting your slick and putting it in his mouth, sucking it off the moisture, and groaning in delight at the sweetness.

Never taking his eyes off you, he nudged his sharp nose against your clit as he tasted you with his tongue. Flat wide strokes before circling your nub with the tip of his tongue and back again.

*******

You groan in your sleep and move to turn when he grabs hold of your thigh keeping you spread before him. Your eyes snap open and make contact with his own as his lips suck your clit into his mouth while he works one finger into you. Inch by inch until you are quivering beneath him, he adds a second finger and curls them hitting that spongy part inside you that causes you to see stars.

“Javi?” you question as his tongue works you again with wide broad strokes soaking up all your sweetness. His fingers sound obscene with how wet you are as he pumps them into your aching pussy.

He pulls away and grins, “Yes, honey? This is my present, no? It’s Christmas morning after all,” he teases before plundering your cunt with his tongue bringing you closer and closer to the edge. Your eyes roll back into your head when he groans and the vibrations send a shockwave through your body. Your orgasm crashes over you in waves, and Javi works you through it adding a third finger and curling them into you as you pulse and clench around him.

“Javier!” you scream and dig your fingers tugging hard on his short locks. He pulls away and you watch as he sucks all of your juices off his fingers, pulling each one out with a pop.

“Merry Christmas baby,” he grins at you before moving up your body and kissing you gently, tasting the sharp tang of yourself on his tongue. His hands continue running up and down your thighs over the stockings. “Why don’t we move into our bedroom and I can unwrap the rest of my gift?” You can only nod as he takes  your ankles in his hand and flips the clasp on the left heel pulling it off and carelessly throwing it to the floor. He repeats with the other shoe and then he is pulling you up from the couch and tossing you over his shoulder. You squeal in delight and hang on to him, and he chuckles before tossing you onto the bed, your breasts bouncing in the tight fabric. His hands move to unclasp the garter from the stockings and you grab his hand and push it away. Sitting up, you remove his shirt and throw it, taking his jeans in your hands and unbuttoning them, and dragging down the zipper. Your finger runs along his cock as it springs free from the confines of his jeans. Dropping to your knees and looking up at him through your lashes he smiles down at you. “I want to taste you, Javi, is that ok?”

“Shit...cariño that is more than oka-” his voice cracks on the last syllable as you take just the tip past your lips, running your tongue in small circles. You reach for his hands and place them gently on your head and he groans, his head dropping back as he pushes you further down onto his cock. He takes his time and inches himself deeper and deeper into your mouth as his breathing gets heavier. One of your hands comes up to massage his balls and the other grabs his ass tightly as he pants. You hollow your cheeks, tongue running up and down as he hits the back of your throat. Breathing deeply through your nose, you gag a little, tears beginning to pool in the corner of your eyes as he fucks your mouth.

“Fuck, I love your mouth...shit.. I’m close.”

You pull him deeper into your mouth and he whimpers as you press and swirl your tongue around the tip, using your hand to pump him in time with your mouth. His grip on your hair tightens and he pulls you all the way forward, choking you on his cock. His hot, salty cum coats your tongue as he climaxes with a groan.

You swallow every last drop and open your mouth to show him, “Such a good girl,” he praises and lifts you to your feet. He kisses you deeply and you sigh as his hands roam over your skin, warm to the touch. “Sit down on the bed,” he instructs and you do so, “now let’s unwrap the rest of my gift  shall we…”

He moves to his knees and spreads your legs to lay  between them. Hands coming around to unclasp your bra and pull it away. He places gentle kisses on your hard nubs, his mustache scratching lightly against your flesh. “Fuck... this is the greatest gift I’ve ever received cariño.” Taking one nipple in his mouth he bites down gently and pulls out; you gasp at the feeling.

“Javi...please,” you beg, hands running through his hair as he takes his sweet time worshipping your breasts. His other hand kneading the other as he keeps his full attention on your nipples. The way he bites you will for sure have marks in the morning, but Javi loves marking you, claiming you as his own. Especially the visual ones, your neck is  usually covered in love bites, letting all the men at work know who you belonged to.

He switches his attention to the other breast and you drop your head back feeling a familiar rush of slick between your thighs. Javi chuckles against your nub and rubs his face between your breasts, his mustache scratching at the skin before he places a kiss between them. “Look at me, Cariño.” The words like honey on his tongue and you are aching for it.

Slowly, you bring your head back up and watch as he never breaks eye contact, snapping the locks from the garter. He sits back on his ankles and puts your foot against his chest, exposing your dripping pussy for him. He starts from the top and slowly rolls down the white stocking his lips trailing behind pressing wet kisses to your skin as he slides them off and tosses them behind him. He moves to the other leg and repeats the process, taking his time to lightly nip and run his tongue over your flesh.

He digs his fingers into the silky material of the garters and pulls them and your panties off leaving you completely bare before him and at his mercy. “Fuck,” he murmurs staring, “You’re perfect, cariño.”  

Taking your hands, he intertwines your fingers and pulls you down to kiss him. Running his tongue over your bottom lip, asking for entrance. His tongue snakes his way inside your mouth and he licks. You’re drunk off the taste of coffee and cigarettes; it’s distinctly Javi.

“Come with me,” he whispers against your lips and pulls you to stand before him. Taking your hand he leads you to the shower and turns on the water. “I need to shower, and I would really love for you to join me.” You nod and he pulls you in for another deep kiss. He tugs  you under the hot spray of the water, his mouth open as he sucks on your neck, pulling you into his chest. His cock is hard and pushing into your ass. He reaches around you and grabs the body wash squeezing a glob into his hands and working it before he rubs it all over you. Although he is cleaning you, you feel even fucking dirtier as his hands rub between your thighs. You turn in his arms and connect your mouths, biting down on his lower lip as he groans. You take the soap from his hands and run it over his broad shoulders, chest, and lower, taking him in your hands.

His forehead drops to your shoulder and he groans as you pump him a few times. “Turn around,” he groans and pushes your chest into the wall. You shiver at the change in temperature. He gently nudges  your legs apart and you feel him; thick and hot against your leg. “I want to fuck you, cariño,” his voice deep and husky.

“Then do it, mi amor” you whisper, and he wastes no time sliding inside of you, inch by glorious inch. Your forehead lays against the tile, and your hands spread out. His fingers leave imprints on your hips as he pushes all the way in and seats you on his cock.

“Fuck,” he pants, “always so tight for me.” He starts slow dragging almost all the way out before slamming back in, slowly driving you insane as he hits that delicious spot inside of you.

“More, Javi, please,” you beg and he speeds up his thrust. The slap of skin on skin is almost  drowned out by the water still pouring over you. He’s sure to leave bruises as he sets a punishing pace, slamming into you. One hand comes out and he starts rubbing circles on your clit, your hands tightening into fists and biting down hard on your lip to suppress your screams.

“Let go, cariño.  I want to hear you,” you clench tighter around him and he moans cursing and rubbing you in time with each thrust until you are pushing his hand away and screaming against the tile. “That’s it baby, cum on my cock,” he praises in that deep, bedroom voice breaks you and you flood his cock, tightening around him as he cums inside you; his thrusts finally slowing until he’s pulling you back flush against him, cock still nestled inside.

The water turns to ice and you shout as he runs to quickly turn it off, both of you laughing against the wall. He slides out of you and watches as his cum drips out onto the floor, dipping his finger and pushing it back inside. “Come on baby, let’s go to bed,” he grabs two fluffy towels and wraps one around you and the other around his waist, leading you both back to the bed. You dry off as best you can before dropping it and getting back under the covers, pulling Javier closer.

He nuzzles into your neck and inhales deeply before sighing, “I will never get enough of you,” he places a kiss below your ear and envelopes you. “Tomorrow...well today I am going to give you some real Christmas magic, cariño.”

“Oh yeah? What are your plans for me Agent Peña?” you tease.

“I’m going to kiss you under the mistletoe like all those corny Christmas movies you watch, just wait, cariño, this will be a Christmas you won’t soon forget.”

“I love you, Javier,” you whisper into the dark and he returns the sentiment with his arms wrapped tight around you.

The next morning you wake up the same way you did the night before, with Javier’s tongue buried inside your pussy. “Oh my God, Javi!” you scream as his tongue wraps tightly around your clit, two fingers pumping you through your orgasm. You feel yourself shattering around him and gushing on his fingers, his tongue eagerly licking up your juices.

You moan and push at his head, fingers digging into the soft curls of his hair, tugging him off. He smiles at you from between your thighs, his mustache glistening in the low light of the bedroom.

Kissing his way up your chest and nipping at one of your nipples, he reaches for his cigarettes on the nightstand, lighting up and taking a long drag. “You know when you told me you wanted to kiss me under the mistletoe, I thought you might mean in a doorway and my lips,” you tease.

“Well, technically, it was still your lips, just on your pussy not your mouth, and we still did it under the mistletoe.” You laugh as he points up and you see the mistletoe hanging from the ceiling above your bed.

He grins at you and takes another pull, the smoke curling up. “Then … do I also get to kiss you under the mistletoe, Javier?” you reach for his jeans and unbuckling them.

He puts out the cigarette and pushes his jeans off the rest of the way, grinning “Well, tis the season.”

“Can I have one?” You said to Javier who was standing at the steps outside the embassy. He seemed confused at first about what you were talking about until you pointed to the cigarette he held between his fingers.

His eyebrows furrowed even more once he understood your request, it was well known that you despised the way him and Steve always had a cigarette hung around their lips. When you had first joined the duo at the embassy you imposed a strict rule on your first day that the windows had to be open if they wanted to smoke, either that or smoke outside. He still obliged your request despite his confusion, handing a fresh one over to you.

Your fingers shook unintentionally as you brought the cigarette up to your lips, beckoning Javier to lean in and light it. He again obliged your request, leaning in towards you with his lighter flicked on setting the stick aflame.

Javier’s questioning gaze still didn’t leave you while he lit his own. He was undoubtedly questioning your behavior after the last raid, being captured for a short while was part of the plan, it was fine, you were fine. The only visible marks you had from the encounter was a bruise that had quickly blossomed along the side of your cheek and a slightly bloody lip.

“Lets get you home.” Javier spoke with an uncharacteristic softness making you bristle even more, the only reason he was acting like this was because of your bruised figure. You scoffed to yourself slightly after taking your last puff before stubbing it out on the ground with your shoe. You were fine.

---

The drive back to the apartment complex that the embassy owned was almost completely silent, the only noises that reached your ears was the soft hum of the engine and any quiet noise from the dwindling traffic. Javier kept glancing back at you every so often, you couldn’t really tell if they were from genuine worry for your wellbeing, he wasn’t really well known for his compassion for others. The only time you had seen a similar look on his face was when he rescued Helena. You shrunk from his gaze a little once you made the connection in your head, Javier and you may be close but you certainly didn’t want his pity.

It shouldn’t change anything, again, you were fine. You only had been briefly roughed up by Escobar’s men, they hadn’t been able to do much in the short time that they had you before Javier and Steve had shown up with Carillo to ‘rescue’ you. It had all gone according to plan, you had gotten the needed information and walked away with minimal injuries. Again- you were fine.

---

“Are you ok?” Javier’s words cut through the thick air rife with tension in your apartment as he dropped you off at your door. You had been practically climbing the walls of the inside of his car before he pulled up outside the apartment complex in order to escape his lingering looks. Even going so far as to ask for another cigarette from him just for a bit of escape in the moment, though this time Javier didn’t oblige you. Unfortunately, he also had felt the need to follow up behind you even though his own apartment was at the other end of the hall.

“I don’t want your pity.” The snarl in your voice and the slam of your door seemed to catch Javier off guard, the tone you had adopted was usually reserved for your encounters with sicarios. Even if you found Javier infuriating at times you still never spoke to him in that tone. You actually regarded Javier as a close friend, maybe even a little bit more.

“I don’t pity you.” You even caught the add on I care about you that he mumbled at the end but there was no quelling your inner turmoil. Javier didn’t care about you, at least not in the way you wanted him to. The both of you were standing an arms length apart in the middle of your living room the tension begging to be broken.

“Is it because I’m a woman? Is that why you keep looking at me like that? I’m fine, they barely touched me.” You were just ranting at this point, unfairly taking it out on the first person in front of you which happened to be Javier. Hot tears started to prickle in your eyes threatening to spill over into large crocodile tears dripping down your cheeks.

“I don’t pity you.” He reiterated to you before continuing, “It’s ok if you’re not ok.”

Biting your lip at his words you shrunk back in on yourself crossing your arms around your midsection with even more tears falling. Ok- you definitely weren’t ok, you admitted to yourself. The way the men had beat you, even if it was only a little had in reality shook you up quite a bit. The worst part being that you could still feel their hands on you, you wished that the feeling would be replaced with more caring hands.

Javier took a hesitant step towards you, opening his arms and beckoning you in close for a hug. Your own steps towards him were equally as hesitant, but the resistance towards someone helping you, namely Javier, was slowly melting away.

After a few quiet minutes just standing in your living room basking in the comfort given to you you looked up at Javier only to find his eyes already on you. His lips parted slightly as your own gaze started to bore into his own, the tension so thick now that you could cut it with a knife. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips before leaning in slightly, very willing to give into the tension yourself.

“I don’t want to take advantage of you.” His words only served to make you want him more, to pull him close and never let go.

“You’re not I promise. I just want to feel you, to have you hold me close.” You snuck your arms underneath his leather jacket to gain a bit more of the warmth that he radiated around him bringing you ever closer to the comfort you desired.“I just want you.”

When his lips hit yours the first thing that stood out to you is that Javier’s lips were unexpectedly soft. His other movements were just as soft as he slipped his tongue into your mouth gently while bringing his hands to cup your cheeks. The two of you had always danced around the unspoken chemistry in your relationship never really fully acting on it, until now.

The scent that always clung to his clothes invaded your senses a mixture of whiskey, the cigarettes you had both smoked, and something you couldn’t name that was distinctly Javi. Both of you made your way back to your bedroom never really breaking apart from one another unless it was to come up for a quick breath. He made you fall apart on his tongue slowly piece by piece pulling away a few times before finally letting you fall over the cliff.

When he finally sunk into you your back was pressed against his chest with your side pressed into the mattress, and his large hand wrapped around your thigh to hike it up towards your chest. Though you were not facing each other in the position you two had chosen, you felt completely connected with him, your bodies moving in sync with each other perfectly. You let out a loud whine of his name when he dropped his fingers down to your clit and started to rub slow devastating circles into you.

Even if it was the first time that you and Javier were sleeping together you could tell that the softness in the way he rotated his hips and the way he cradled you softly was uncharacteristic of Javier. You could quite literally feel the love from him which made tears again prickle at the corner of your eyes, though for a much better reason compared to beforehand.

“Mi corazón.” Javier wasn’t a man of many words, in his day to day life and also while you slept together the weight of his words fell deep in your gut and the droplets that clung to the corners of your eyes spilled over. A second orgasm washed over you, in response to being completely overwhelmed by his actions. Javier rocked into you a few more times before spilling onto the back of your thighs, then quickly angling your face towards him to envelope you into a breathless kiss.

“I’ve got you, mi corazón.” He quietly whispered to you while pressing kisses to your temple after cleaning you up, then rejoining you in your bed and pulling you to rest on his chest. You felt true comfort in his arms as you drifted to sleep not feeling any desire to have another cigarette.

---

You nipped playfully at his bottom lip and broke him out of his reverie. The smile you’d given him when he pulled away sent a flow of warmth through his entire body. Radiating out from his heart, to the tips of his fingers, and down to his toes. 

“OH!” you exclaimed, as you pulled away from him abruptly. Taking the bedsheets, and all of the warmth with you. “I almost forgot!” 

Din’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion as he watched you dart across the floor of The Crest to your duffle bag. The stolen sheet flowed behind you, like a ladies elegant cape, as you went. You rummaged through the sack for a moment or two. Exclaiming “AH-HA!” when you finally found whatever it was you’d been searching for. 

“Happy Life Day!” you yelled, as you held a small package out for Din to see. Your eyes gleamed in the dim lights of the hull as you ran towards the nest of blankets the two of you had started calling a bed. 

“Life Day?” Din asked, his eyebrows had shot so high they nearly disappeared under the shaggy brown curls plastered to his sweaty forehead. 

“It’s a Wookie tradition. Like a holiday.” You explained as you gestured wildly, the gift still held tightly in your hands. It’s contents clanged around in the small box.

“Since when are you a Wookie, riduur?” Din chuckled, he had been with you for a while now, and even a year into marriage you still managed to surprise him. “You’re not nearly hairy enough.” 

“Shut up,” you replied; and swatted at his chest with the ghost of a smirk threatening to spread across your face. “My best friend in the rebellion was a Wookie. Now do you want the present, or not?” 

“Of course I do.” He replied as tried, in vain, to still the laugh in his chest, and force a serious expression. 

“That’s what I thought.” You sassed as you crawled into his waiting lap. With your chest puffed out with pride, you waved the small box in Din’s face. Tempting him to grab it. But when he reached for it you pulled it away with a frown. 

“Kiss me first.” You insisted, as your lips pulled into a childish pout. Din rolled his eyes but happily obliged. 

“Thank you” you beamed, appreciatively running your thumb over his plush lips when he pulled away. 

“What is it?” Din asked with a frown. He ran his fingers over the paper covering the box and admired it for a moment. The paper was plain and brown, but you’d taken the time to decorate it with tiny, hand drawn, trees. On the top it read, “For my riduur.” In what Din assumed was your fanciest script. 

He went to rip off the paper and felt, almost, dirty doing it. You had clearly put a lot of effort into making it look nice, and the last thing he wanted to do was ruin that. So he carefully went along the seams, and peeled the paper off without making a single tear. 

When he opened the box, he found a fancy looking vibroblade inside and what looked like some spare parts. 

“What are these?” Din asked, holding up some of the cold metal pieces. 

“They’re for the vibroblade,” you explained, reaching into the box that was settled between the two of you to pick the blade up. “I can mod your vambraces with them, so the vibroblade pops out of the bottom.” 

“I-I, uh, don’t know what to say…” Din stuttered, not quite sure what to make of the whole thing. He’d never celebrated a holiday before, or gotten a gift. When it came to things like this, he had to admit, he was always more than a little lost. 

“Look at the blade, love.” You encouraged, taking his hand in yours and carefully placing the sharp blade on his rough palm. 

His calloused fingers traced over the smooth, cool, metal before he turned it over. On the other side he found his signet, a Mudhorn, carved perfectly into the side. 

“Did you…?” He started, but trailed off. Utterly distracted by the pure beauty of what he held in his hand. 

“I engraved it,” you finished for him, “it’s why I was so twitchy whenever you dropped into the hull this week. I wanted it to be a surprise…” 

The words you spoke barely registered on Din’s radar. He was far too busy admiring his gift. No one had ever gotten him a gift before, let alone one with this much thought put into it. The blade was shined to absolute perfection, and the signet was carved in deep. Adding it to his armor was the icing on the cake. Now he could carry a part of you within his armor forever. The thought of it brought a tear to his eye. 

“Do you like it?” your timid voice broke back into his thoughts. But he still couldn’t speak. How was he supposed to put how he felt about this, about you into words. So instead he dropped the vibroblade and took you into his arms. Pouring all of his unspoken feelings into a kiss. 

It was fiery and sweet. His tongue hungrily swept over your bottom lip, begging you to let him in. And let him in you did, opening for him with a pleased groan, the kind that got his blood pumping, and sent shockwaves down his spine. 

He tangled his hands into your hair in an effort to bring you closer to him as his tongue danced over yours. No matter how close he brought you to him it would never be enough, he always wanted to feel you closer. 

“I’ll take that as a yes.” You panted, pulling away so you could catch your breath. Din nodded fervently, and chased after you for another kiss. You laughed at his enthusiasm and suddenly he felt a twinge of guilt in his chest. You’d gone through all this trouble for him, and he had nothing for you. 

“What’s wrong?” You asked, as if sensing the sudden change in his mood. 

“I- you, you got me this perfect thing and…” he trailed off, leaning back from you and rubbing the back of his neck, “and I didn’t get you anything.” 

“Din,” you took his face in your hands and forced him to meet your eye line. Instinctively he leaned into your touch, sighing at how gently you touched his face. The feel of your fingers on his cheeks easing his worries to almost nothing. 

“It’s okay, I have you, and that’s enough.” You assured him, the certainty in your voice made his heart skip a beat in the best possible way. As you spoke your fingers played absently at the beskar mythosaur skull hanging from his neck, and he got an idea. If he could carry a part of you with him, he wanted you to be able to do the same. 

“Here,” he began, lifting the worn leather cord from his neck, and placing it around yours. “I want you to have it.” 

“Din,” you started, emotions welling up in your throat, “you don’t have too…” 

“I know.” Din cut you off, running the rough pad of his finger along your chest, admiring the way the necklace looked on you. “I want to. I want you to have a piece of me, just as I have a piece of you.” 

“Mhi solus tome, Mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde.” You whispered, in near perfect Mando’a and Din’s heart soared. 

“We are one when together, we are one when parted, we share all, we will raise warriors.” Din repeated in basic as the tears that rimmed his eyes threatened to fall. 

“Happy Life Day, Riduur.” You said, pressing your forehead to his in a keldabe kiss, just as you would before you were married. 

Nor he with you. You easily had the choice of many men to agree to have as a husband, but you had chosen him. He hadn’t even been an option, not truly, but you still chose him; you were a steadfast, stubborn little thing, he had always claimed and you had definitely proven that to him and everyone when your engagement was to be announced to the public, and you shocked everyone and chose him. It hadn’t been an easy thing; not by any means.

Choosing Pero meant losing your family and everything you had known. The reckless mercenary and the lady of polite, gentile society - a juxtaposition in every way. You were meant to marry a man of wealth and taste - culture, everyone liked to call it. But you had known in your heart since your little love affair had started with Pero that he was the one for you and there was no one else. For a few while he had wondered if you would end up regretting your decision or loathing him, but you never did, you never once had even a single regret over choosing Pero. When it came down to you, you would have chosen him again and again, every single time. 

Love was the end, you always insisted, despite what the world seemed to think. 

You gruff, stoic mercenary agreed, even if he didn’t verbalize the statement.

“Here you are,” you returned quietly, warm padded feet shuffling quietly along the wooden floor. Pero pulled his gaze away from the fire and turned to you, a smile slowly covering his face. Pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose, you held out the sweater to him before moving to grab some more blankets for the two of you. Pero was silent, uncharacteristically so for him, as he watched you. Turning slowly, you met his dark eyes and gave him a curious look, “Pero? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he promised as you lit a few more candles near the heath before joining him and sitting down on the soft couch, pulling the blanket over the two of you. Placing his arm around you, he held you close, breathing in the quiet comfort your presence provided, “are you happy?”

“Am I happy?” you repeated as you pulled gave, a puzzled expression crossing your features. You had no idea where this was suddenly coming from, but you reached up and put a hand on his cheek, “of course I’m happy, my love. I am very happy. I hope nothing in my actions has done anything to cause you to believe otherwise.”

“Of course not,” he huffed lightly, studying you with a quiet intensity that made you want pull him into you then and there, to become whole and one with him. Taking your hand from his cheek, he brought it to his lips, pressing a light kiss to your knuckles, “sometimes I just wonder if this is enough for you. If I am enough for you.”

“You are many things, husband, including a silly man,” you laughed at him, setting his soul at ease as he relaxed at your words of reassurance, “I am happy, nothing could make me happier. And you? You are everything. I don’t want anyone - I could not even dream of it.”

“Not even-”

“Not even some governor, or lord, or anyone could make me as happy as you do,” you closed the small distance between your bodies, practically crawling into his lap, “Pero, I chose you then and I still choose you and I would always choose you. Is that understood?”

“Yes,” any remainder of the tough exterior and façade he had melted away at your words. He held you close, pausing for just a moment before you decided to take matters into your own and kissed him. You were fully seated in his lap at his lap at this point, his large hands finding purchase on your waist as your arms wrapped around his neck. It wasn’t often that the two of you that were able to enjoy the quiet silence of a winter’s afternoon or to take such solace in one another, knowing that neither of you had any duties to attend to you. Pero pulled back after a few moments, his hands wandering up your body and pausing and your face, “I know I do not say often, mi sol, but I do love you very much. You make me happier than I could have ever dreamed.”

“I know it to be true, sweet husband,” you beamed at him, shining as bright as the sun on a mid-summer’s day. He’d given you the surprisingly tender nickname shortly after you’d met by chance at the farmer’s market one early spring afternoon several years ago. You’d brightened his day and instilled a sense of hope into his heart, he had told you, just like the sun - mi sol, “you don’t always have to say it. I know you mean it.”

You nuzzled your nose against his, admiring his quiet beauty for a few moments, pressing your lips against his cheeks, forehead, nose, and stopping at his lips before wrestling him down on the couch so he was flat on his back. 

“I love you,” you whispered softly before moving to straddle his waist, “now let me show you how much.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

“It looks like the snow is starting to let up,” you commented as you opened the door to look outside, pulling your coat tighter around you. Gone was the harsh snowfall from the evening before, leaving everything covered in glittering white powder, but with a less harsh chill settling over everything. Pero came up behind you, wrapping an arm around your waist before pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head, “it looks beautiful out there.”

“Almost as beautiful as you,” he commented as you playful sighed at him, “what do you say we go out and look for some holly and ivy today? We can decorate for the holiday properly.”

“Do you mean it?” you asked, eyes wide with excitement as you turned to him. He nodded as he moved to go and fetch your thick woolen outer coats and boots, “everything will look so lovely and festive! It is almost time to welcome the end of the year and halfway point of the winter.”

“Then we shall plan a big feast and everything to celebrate,” he grinned softly as your heart melted. He wasn’t normally a big fan of festivities, always going along with what you wanted to do, but never really having a preference one way or another. But this year, something in him had shifted and he seemed even more in the holiday spirit than he normally was….not that you were complaining at all. You loved to see him happy and smiling; despite all of his time with you and resigning himself to a quiet life, you knew things from his past life often still haunted him. 

“I think that will be lovely,” you agreed as he held out your coat for you to slip into, followed up by him draping a warm scarf around your neck to keep you warm and toasty. You couldn’t help but grin as you buttoned up his coat, slapping his hands out of the way as you grabbed a scarf for him. He remained silent, watching you with reverence as fretted over him. When you were done, you took a step back and admired the handsome view that he provided, “there. All warm, Pero?”

“Wonderful,” he agreed as you opened the door again and stepped outside, holding your hand out for him to take. He wasted no time in enveloping your hand with his much larger one, smiling to himself as you swung your clasped hands together. He liked this - your humble little life, and getting to spend his days with you. It was nothing grand or overwhelming, but none of that mattered; all that mattered was you and love you shared. 

“Pero?” you paused when you noticed that he was lagging behind, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he insisted as he caught up to you, pressing a kiss to the side of your head, “nothing at all.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

Humming under your breath, you finished setting up the rest of holly and ivy along the hearth, taking a moment to admire how it looked all around your small home. Even the small staircase leading to the second floor was covered with candles and greenery, casting a soft gentle glow around the whole place. It was nothing over the top or grandiose, but it was still beautiful and warm, and you loved it more than anything. 

Standing on the stool under the doorway separating the kitchen from the living area, you carefully tacked up the mistletoe you had found. It was more for a small laugh, a fun little folly one of your friends had told you about, but you had still wanted to surprise Pero. 

Just as you finished tacking it up, the front door opened and Pero came inside, immediately shaking out his hair to get the remainder of the snowflakes out. You were so startled by his sudden appearance that you stumbled slightly and almost fell off of the stool. Pero, ever the fighter and quick on his feet, was faster and at your side in just a second, catching you in his strong arms before anything could happen.

“Hello,” you grinned at him as he held you in his arms, a look of concern momentarily crossing his features. When he saw that you were okay, he relaxed, the rapid beating of his heart already slowing down as he set you on your feet. You leaned up and kissed his cheek, “thank you my love. You’re always my hero.”

“Are you alright, mi sol?” his hand found your face as he gave you the once over you and you nodded, “what were you even doing?”

“I was just putting up some mistletoe,” you pointed to the top of the doorway, watching as a look of confusion crossed your husband’s features. He reached up and touched it, giving it the once over as  he brushed his fingers over the lush, dark green sprigs. 

“Isn’t this poisonous?” he cocked an eyebrow as you nodded, “then why one earth…”

“It’s not for eating or anything,” you stated the obvious with a small laugh, “it’s for decoration. And besides, there’s a sort of tradition about it that I heard…”

“Pray tell, what could this so-called little tradition be?” he asked you as you pulled him closer by the lapels of his coat. He made a small sound of surprise as you let your lips linger near his.

“If two people are caught under it,” you explained, “you are supposed to kiss, and it is to bring good luck if you do and then bad luck if you fail to do so.”

“Ahh,” he laughed lightly as you nodded, “what an odd little thing. I’ve never heard of it before.”

“I hadn’t either,” you admitted, “another one of the ladies in the village told me about it today and gifted the mistletoe to us. I figured it might seem silly, but there’s not harm in trying, right? Besides that, I don’t quite fancy setting ourselves up with bad luck.”

“I definitely do not want to do that either,” his lips brushed yours as they quirked up in a small smile, “what do you propose we do about it?”

“I think you should kiss me, dear husband,” you suggested with coaxing, eager eyes, “and if it should please you, you can do even more than that.”

“I would not be opposed to either,” he put his hand on either side of your face as he offered you a gentle peck, leaving you hanging on for more, “how lucky I am to call you my wife, mi sol.”

“I love you, Pero,” you promised him, “you and only you.”

“And I you.”

“But now I really do need you to do something for me.”

“Anything.”

“Kiss me,” you insisted, “and then some.”

“As you wish.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Finest red?” Jack leans forward in his seat, still smirking. “You sure know how to spend my money, sweetheart.”

“Oh, I’m not spending your money, Agent Whiskey.”

“What, you buying dinner tonight? My lucky day.”

You laugh. “No, no, dear. This dinner is courtesy of Statesman.”

“Is it now? I didn’t realize this was a work meeting.” He raises an eyebrow, and you notice his smile fall for a moment, as though he really believes you’d bring him here for anything related to the agency.

You giggle again and reach to hold his hand across the table. “As far as Statesman is concerned, I never said it wasn’t…”

The waitress returns, filling both your glasses and leaving the bottle at the table.

“Ain’t you a devious little thing. Alright,” he lifts his full glass, toasting to you. “To Statesman. For dinner with my best girl.”

You lean forward as he rubs his thumb across your knuckles, clinking your glass against his. “To you coming back to me in one piece,” you say earnestly. It’s a moment of honesty, and he catches it, smiling at you with teasing eyes.

“You really that worried about me, darlin?” He pulls your hand closer to him, pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand.

You roll your eyes but can’t help the smile on your face. “Stop that,” you scold him, pulling your hand back to intwine your fingers on the table. “I thought you were smarter than that, Agent.”

He laughs before taking a sip of the wine. He squeezes your hand. “I missed you.”

His eyes flick across your face, and you take in his, admiring his warm, brown eyes, the neat mustache over his plush lips. He must have shaved before he came here you think. His hair is mostly hidden under his black Stetson, but you can see the sides from how he wears his hat. It looks damp, he must have showered too. You smile at the thought, rememorizing the curve of his nose and the crease in his brow.

“I missed you too,” you whisper back.

You smile at each other, relieved to just be in each other’s company, with no more worries for the rest of the season. The waitress comes back in a moment and you order while Jack quickly peruses the menu, too caught up with you to remember the reason for being at the restaurant in the first place. The two of you catch up over the meal, Jack telling you everything that went down—though you believe he may be sparing you some of the details. You let him know what has been happening at HQ while he’s been away, but the two of you eat quickly. There are other things you’d rather be doing.

The waitress returns just as you finish, making sure everything is all right. The food was delicious, and the wine bottle now sits empty at the side.

She picks up your empty plates. “Can I get any dessert for you two?”

As good as some of the options sound, you’re full already, and you give Jack a look.

“I think we’ll be having dessert at home,” he winks at you, and your heart beats faster.

It only takes moments to pay on Statesman’s dime, and then Jack takes his hand in yours to practically drag you away.

He holds your hand as he pulls you out of the restaurant and into the cab, keeps your fingers interlaced as you enter your apartment building and run up the stairs, clasps you tightly as you step into your home, bringing you close and tightening his grip on your hand.

The two of you easily settle in, shedding your coat and shoes before he pulls you back into him. He tells you how good you look, hands roaming over your body as you walk him further backward into the apartment, tells you how much he thought of you as you loosen his tie to unbutton the collar of his shirt.

He ducks his head to kiss you without bumping you with the brim of his hat. His lips were warm and soft against yours and you hum. It’s a sweet, chaste kiss that he repeats before pulling away to look at you.

“Missed you, darlin.” He unbuttons his jacket, shrugging it off and tosses it on the back of the couch without ever looking away from you. His large hands came to cup either side of your face as he leaned in to kiss you again. “Been waiting for this.”

His next kiss leaves you breathless, his mouth moving against yours and taking command. You take the hat from his head, tossing it like a frisbee to the side, not caring where it lands. He leans in as he parts your lips, making you take a small step backward. He follows you closely, walking you across the living area and toward the hall to your shared bedroom.

His hands drift from your face, one moving to cradle the back of your neck as you tilt your head to deepen the kiss. You could still taste the fine wine on his tongue, feel the heat of his breath as he breathed you in. Your stomach fluttered as his other hand drifted down to feel you, sweeping over your shoulder and down your back before he took a handful of your ass. Tensing in his tight grasp, and you laughed into his mouth and reached up to muss his hair. You felt the curve of his lips and the tickle of his mustache on your skin as he smiled back, a deep rumbling chuckle warming you from the inside out.

“Jack.” You whispered it against his smile, relishing in every brush of your lips against his as you spoke. “Take me to bed.”

He grinned at that, and you reached up to fondly trace over the dimple in his cheek.

“Yes ma’am.” His hands came to grip around your waist, spinning you around as you stumbled to the door, the two of you laughing like idiots. Your arms came around his neck, holding your body tightly to his as the two of you passed down the hall, threw open the door, knocking into nearly every piece of furniture as you kissed.

Not wanting to waste another minute, Jack’s arms tightened around you before he nearly tossed you onto the king-sized bed. You bounced onto the plush mattress, laughing at his eagerness, and just barely propped yourself up on your elbows before he was crawling on top of you and pushing you back down.

The soft bed beneath you was much more comfortable when Jack was here, and his passionate kisses erased the memories of lying in his bed alone, praying he would come back safe. Your hands greedily took hold of him, reaching for any and every part of him—you threaded your fingers through his hair, pushed down on his shoulders to press his chest to yours, splayed a hand on his abdomen and slid it up to his collar. Even though his tie dangled between you and got in the way, you took advantage, grasping the red silk—an early gift from you—and using it to pull him back into a kiss when he tried to mouth at your neck.

“Jack, honey, as good as you look in the suit, you are wearing way too much right now.”

His nose bumps yours, and he takes your bottom lip between his teeth. You feel his hands run down the length of your body, over your breasts and down your sides to grasp at your hips, tugging up the skirt of your dress.

“I ain’t the only one, sweetheart.” His lips go to your ear, the words sending shivers down your spine. “I believe I was promised dessert.”

His fingers trail over the skin of your leg, slipping under your skirt and massaging the inside of your thigh, reaching higher and higher until he touches the velvet that covers you. His eyebrows raise and mouth opens as he feels it, quickly looking up at you in surprise.

You smirk at him and lie back, placing a finger over his lips before he can ask. “Why don’t you get me out of this dress then, hmm?”

You know it’s what he’s been thinking about all through dinner, likely long before dinner if you were being honest. He smiles under the press of your finger, excitedly reaching for the zipper in back, pulling at fabric and making you move under him so he can pull it off you, the two of you laughing as you shimmy out of the tight burgundy dress, stealing kisses as though this was still new.

He takes his time getting you comfortable as he presses kisses along your face and neck, eagerly tasting any skin that is revealed. He marvels for a moment when the dress is finally tossed in the corner, looking at you splayed beneath him, wearing one of the sexiest matching sets he has ever seen.

Black lace trim and straps stretch over the slope of your breast and the curve of your hips, but it’s the deep red velvet matching your dress that covers you just enough to make him lose his mind that does him in. He groans and leans back to admire you, certain that this is the best Christmas present he could receive. Arguably, it may be even better than the lingerie he got for you, still waiting and neatly wrapped under the tree.

Now with you uncovered, he finds himself much too overdressed for the situation. His tie comes off first, flung somewhere along with your dress, and he only gets a few of the top buttons undone before his impatience gets the better of him. He rolls up his sleeves before diving in, mouth going to attack the inside of your thighs. The sounds you make turn something in his gut, heading lower as he tastes you. His pants are starting to feel much too tight, but he’s much too distracted by the feel of you under his hands, your legs around him to do something about it. His mouth makes a path up your thigh, he takes his time to kiss over your stomach, loving every inch of your body he had missed so much.

His large hands come up to feel the velvet over your breasts, squeezing you gently and rubbing his thumbs over your nipples through the fabric. You moan, trying to shift your hips to find any friction, but it seems Jack was purposely keeping you spread open, without the contacted you so needed.

“Jack I swear to God if you don’t stop teasing…” he hummed as he kissed along your skin, stopping to plant a kiss right over your heart before his face tilted up and he captured your lips with his. You nipped at him, tightening your legs around him to pull him closer, but he had other plans.

A hand slipped in between your bodies, pressing right between your hips so you were pressed back to the mattress. He gave you one last peck before grinning over you, his mussed hair dangling on his forehead as he gazed down at you, and you slipped a hand under his shirt feeling his bared chest, the other wrapping around his arm.

“I missed you,” you tell him again. It’s the truth, and it feels good to say it even if you have ulterior motives for saying it now. “Missed having you in our bed. Missed your body, missed your mouth—”

He surges forward then, kissing you fiercely and slipping his tongue in your mouth before ducking his head to bite at your throat and quickly moving back down your body. You know he’s straining, surprised he’s lasted this long already. His hand moves lower to cup between your legs, stroking the soft velvet over your core. He’s focused now, no longer gentle and playful touches, reacquainting himself with the feel of your body. No. Now he’s intent on getting to you, getting you off.

You gasp when his fingers skip under the material, swiping at your slick folds, briefly teasing your clit before returning to your entrance. You shift under his care, impatient for more but appreciating the feel of his weight on you, the strength in his hands, his shoulders. You reach to touch his hair, running your fingers through the soft locks as he kisses your hips, a finger sliding in to stroke you and you sigh.

He starts of slow, building you up, but soon enough you’re grinding your hips in time with his strokes, pulling at his head from where he’s focused on making marks along the inside of your leg to where you need him most. You had intended on removing the lingerie, making it easier for the two of you to continue, but Jack apparently doesn’t feel the same. Though he does stop sucking a bruise at the apex of your thigh, he only slides the thin strip of fabric to the side and dives in.

You whine at the sensation of his mouth on you, his finger joined by a second as he swirls his tongue around your clit. Your body jerks for a moment, overwhelmed by his touches. You moan again, leaning your head back into the pillow as you clutch his head tightly, arching toward his mouth and fingers. He finds a spot deep inside you, stroking you gently with gaining speed, and he continues to suck and lick at your bundle of nerves, making your body shudder under him.

You had nearly forgotten just how good his mouth was when he wasn’t running it. He’s learned your body well, and you remember just how fast he can have you shaking and screaming around him. You moan his name, warning him of the rising pressure inside you. His fingers continue in their rhythmic motion, and you can hear just how wet you are. His tongue dips to lap at your folds before returning to your clit, drinking from you like a man starved. You can see him moving too when you glance down, knowing that he must be grinding his own hips into the mattress. He groans into your core, making you shudder again.

“Jack,” you cry his name, “Jack, fuck please.” You’re getting closer, legs clamping around his head. He doesn’t mind it, you know for a fact he enjoys it, and his faze nuzzles further into your heat when you do. He pumps his fingers faster, and even you can feel how fucking soaking you are. “Fuck, Jack, I’m—”

It comes quickly, his lips around you and sucking while his tongue still teases your clit. Your legs become a vise around his head as you press your hips to his mouth, your own opening in a silent scream. His hand is tight on your hip, the only thing keeping you grounded, as his fingers and mouth don’t cease in their movements, keeping you at your high.

You choke out a gasp as you hold his head to you still, unable and afraid to pull him away. He’s so good, so fucking good with that goddamn mouth swirling around and his large fucking fingers pumping into you just right and oh fuck, he’s isn’t stopping and you’re shaking, your legs are shaking, and you think you’ve stopped breathing, but you’re so fucking wet you can feel it on your legs, but shit—can he even breathe with his face buried in you like that?

Just like that it becomes too much. Your legs drop from around him and your hands that once held him tightly to you now shove him away. His face comes up so you can see him, and he immediately gasps for air, panting as he pulls his fingers from you, and you flinch at the loss of him inside you. His hands immediately go to his belt, and he manages to unbuckle it and open the front of his pants to lessen the restraint on the cock tenting his pants.

You still shake even without his touch, panting just as he is as you go through aftershocks. You realize your face is wet, a tear running along the side of your face. You can only stare up at him, mouth agape as you watch him, kneeling between your spread legs. His face is soaked, hair tousled so it lies over his forehead, his usually neat part nowhere to be seen. Your slick coats his mustache and chin, and you can see a sheen of sweat over the top of his chest. His eyes are glazed with lust, but he still smirks down at you looking almost as wrecked as you feel.

“What’s the matter darlin? I finally manage to silence your smart mouth?” It makes you angry that you can’t respond, mind too dazed to come up with a response.

Without his body near you, you shiver from the cold air you feel, legs still trembling. You can’t do anything but eye the bulge still under his boxers, knowing that despite how hard he just made you cum, you still want more.

“Jack Daniels, you shut the hell up, and you get over here and fuck me right,” you snap.

His eyes widen in shock for a moment, but then he’s grinning like he’s won the world, dropping his pants enough to free his hard and heavy cock, and he pounces. He never bothered to take off his shirt, or his pants, or likely even his shoes you realize. You don’t care at the moment, too needy to think of anything else as his lips meet yours and you feel his length at your hip. You can taste yourself on him as you kiss him, but you don’t mind it.

He’s hot and solid against you, and your hands slip under his open shirt to claw at his back as he takes himself into his hand and pushes into you. You both moan together, his lips on your cheek. He’s large, stretching you more than his fingers and it feels right. This is how you were meant to be, filled like this, overwhelmed by the stretch and the feel of him inside you. His hand comes behind you knee, lifting your leg to rest at his side as he pulls out and pushes back in. At this angle, you can feel every ridge, the velvet of his skin, and your legs start shaking again. He gazes down at you with wonder, watching as your breasts move with his thrusts, the way your eyes glaze over as you stare up at him, jaw slack and making little sounds for him that make his cock twitch as he fucks you.

“Fuck baby, you look so good like this.” He looks down to where you two meet, watches as he disappears inside of you again and again and again. He can feel the pull in his gut, straining to hold out. “You should see how good you take me, how good you make me feel, oh fuck—” He nearly loses himself right then, feeling you clench tighter around him. “Damn, you can’t just do that to me,” he groans, picking up his pace, unable to control himself.

It’s rough, and you feel like he’s pushing you deeper into the mattress, the feel of his cock reaching deep inside you. The moan that comes from your throat is uncontrolled, and the sounds of you moving together overwhelm you. You don’t know if you can cum again but fuck, he feels so good like this, your entire body warm and tingling, calling for his touch. He leans forward, hovering over you and you try to pull him even closer.

“You’re so wet, baby, so wet for me. Look at this,” he takes a hand between the two of you, pace stuttering for a moment before picking back up again. He brings his slick covered fingers to your face, and you don’t hesitate to take them in your mouth. He tenses, rolling his hips into yours. “I’m not gonna last, sweetheart, uhng—” You bring your legs around him, pulling him in as you grind back into him. “Missed you too much, baby, I can’t—” He stops, his face pulling tight into a grimace as he struggles to hold on.

You give one last suck to his fingers before you pull them away. “Then come baby,” you say, voice hoarse, “fill me up, Jack. Need to feel you again. Feel your cum inside me.” Your voice is nothing more than a whine, begging really. It has been a while and he’s always had this power to make you so weak for him. As he moves, you feel the warmth spread throughout your body, and you hold him close, arching your back, legs at his thighs to push him into you again.

His mouth drops open, and after a particularly hard thrust, he’s coming. You feel the way his muscles tense, feel the warm spurt inside you and the two of you moan together. He drops to his forearms above you and you wrap your arms around his shoulders, holding him close as he comes down from his high, rocking gently into you, and the tension leaves his body. He rests his forehead on your collarbone, and you turn your head to press kisses into his hair. You feel spent and exhausted, and you know his day has been longer than yours.

“Goddamn darlin, you know how to wreck me,” he says into your neck. His breath on your skin tickles, and you smile up at the ceiling. Before you can respond, his finger reaches down to where you are joined, and you clench.

“Ohh,” you catch yourself for a moment, leaning up to press your teeth to his shoulder. “You watch yourself, Daniels, don’t start something you can’t finish.”

He laughs, rolling off of you finally, both of you tensing as you part. You hear the familiar tell of his shoes hitting the floor, and he slides off his pants fully to toss them off the bed.

“I most definitely plan on finishing.” He looks to the side as he lays on his back, meeting your eyes and grinning at you. “So why don’t you take off that pretty little lace for me and get on back up here, cowgirl.”

You look at him in shock for a moment, expecting him to pass out for the night, not pat his lap for round two. “You sure about that, old man?” you ask him, knowing you’re wandering into dangerous territory.

His arm snatches out, pulling you on top of his chest, and you push the rest of his dress shirt off his shoulders and dump it on the floor. “You won’t be calling me old in a minute,” he teases back, and sure enough, you feel him begin to harden behind you.

You quickly remove your bra, dangling it over him before that too is tossed to the floor and you lean down to press your chest to his. He holds you tight to him, and you press messy kisses to each other’s faces, relieved to be back in this feeling of having your love in your arms.

The kisses slow, and you enjoy the feeling of his lips moving languidly against yours. “Merry Christmas,” you whisper to him, even as you grind back down on his cock.

“Mmm,” he hums under you then leans up to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth, “Merry Christmas, darlin.” You melt into the touch of his hands running along your bare back and down to your ass. “This is what I needed right here, just you. Right here,” he whispers to you, before pulling you down for another kiss.

With a heavy sigh, you got to your feet as you slowly made your way back to the rest of your team. You knew you were in for a lecture from your superiors for your failure once again, and you weren’t looking forward to it. They weren’t going to be happy with you, and you knew you were low on chances to bring Veracruz in. But, you didn’t want to be taken off the case, so you just had to come up with another strategy.

The meeting with your superiors went just as badly as you expected, and after a few days of recon in the jungles, you decided to take a few days off. You retired back to your little house that you rented on the edge of the city while you were in Colombia. It wasn’t much, but after several months, it became home to you. It was small, just a one bedroom one bathroom with a little living space, but it was cozy and just what you needed after a hard day.

You made your way to the kitchen for a much needed drink, and you frowned at your mostly empty refrigerator before you grabbed a bottle of tequila and poured yourself a shot.

Just as the glass touched your lips, your phone rang. You rolled your eyes and downed the shot before you answered with your title, “What is it?”

“They got him,” the gruff voice of your superior said simply on the other end.

You let out a gasp as your eyes went wide, “What?” you were breathless as you slumped down on the nearby stool. You only nodded as your superior explained that another team had finally managed to capture the comandante that escaped your grasp for months. 

You should have felt relieved, but you didn’t. You almost felt mad that someone else swopped in at the last minute and stole your glory. It should have been you to bring him in. Veracruz and his team had caused a lot of trouble for many countries with his weapons trade, but the arrogant side of you wanted him in your custody, not anyone else’s.

Once you hung up the phone, you let out a heavy sigh and poured yourself another shot. You looked around the room as the silence felt heavy on your mind. All your hard work felt like it was for nothing, and though you should have been relieved that Veracruz was in someone’s custody, you still felt like a failure. It was your job, your assignment, and you couldn’t get it done.

After one more shot, you decided that a warm, relaxing bath would be more helpful than just drinking your sorrows away. The warm water felt nice on your achy muscles, and you exhaled heavily as you leaned back and closed your eyes.

Between the alcohol and the warmth of the bath, you must have fallen asleep because when you opened your eyes again, the water was freezing cold. You shot up to sit and counted yourself lucky that you didn’t accidentally drown yourself in the tub. That was just what you needed to add to your list of embarrassments. 

It was the middle of the night, and the neighborhood was quiet as you slipped on shorts and a tank top. You had just put the half empty bottle of tequila back when you heard a knock at your door. You froze; you weren’t expecting anyone, and the only people who knew where you lived were members of your team. And they had no reason to show up unannounced at 2am.

With furrowed brows, you quietly made your way to your door and stopped to grab your gun on the way. You peeked around the little side window to try and figure out who it was when you heard a familiar voice call your name.

Again you froze with your gun aimed at the door. What was Veracruz doing here? You just got the call hours ago that he was arrested. This was impossible. And how did he even find you in the first place?

“I know you’re in there, agent,” Veracruz called out again. This time, you noticed how strained his voice sounded. When you looked through the window again, you saw that he leaned against the doorframe and you thought you saw blood drip down his arm.

Now you had a choice to make: you could cuff him and turn him in or you could help him. You swallowed hard as you listened to his labored breaths on the other side of your front door. Either way, you had to open it, so you kept your gun up and swung it open. You expected to be met with his own weapon on the other side, and you were surprised to find that Veracruz was unarmed.

The two of you stared at each other for several moments, and you felt like time moved slower than normal. Veracruz leaned against the pillar of your little porch and clutched his side. Cuts and bruises adored his body, and you were sure it looked even worse under his clothes. He tried to keep his expression in his usual cocky smirk, but you saw that he faltered just slightly.

“You look like shit,” you finally said as you kept your gun pointed at him. Veracruz may have been injured, but you still didn’t trust him.

“And you look sexy as ever,” he gave you a short laugh before he coughed in pain, “I’ve never seen that much leg on you, agent.”

You felt your face heat up, and you faltered for a moment before you regained your composure, “Shut up,” you snapped as you took a step toward him and checked him over for any hidden weapons, “What are you doing here, Veracruz?”

“I was in the neighborhood,” he snarked back sarcastically, “Thought I’d drop by.”

You clenched your jaw as you kept a fierce gaze on him, “How did you find my house?”

He laughed again, and this time he didn’t try to hide the way he flinched in pain, “I’ve known where you live for some time now.”

“Comforting,” you dead-panned. You used your gun to gesture to his slumped over body, “What happened?”

“Are you going to interrogate me?” Veracruz interjected, “Or are you going to help me?”

“Give me one good reason why I should help you.”

The comandante was about to answer when he fell forward and drifted in and out of consciousness. Out of instinct, you wrapped your arms around him and caught him before he hit the ground. Panic rushed through you for a moment and you looked around to make sure no one was around before you dragged Veracruz inside. 

You set him down on the floor before you rushed to lock your door and you let out a heavy exhale as you stared at him. Veracruz laid still, and you saw blood pool underneath him. Everything in you screamed to call someone: your superior, your agency, anyone. And yet, you heard another voice in your head that told you to help him.

No matter how much you hated the man in front of you, there was a part of you that just couldn’t let him die. With a dejected sigh, you ran into your kitchen and grabbed your first aid kit. You weren’t the best with wounds, but you knew enough to close and clean the large gash on Veracruz’s side before you worked on his smaller wounds on the rest of his body.

“What the fuck am I doing?” you whispered to yourself as you watched over the unconscious comandante. Although you couldn’t deny how handsome he looked when he wasn’t scowling or trying to kill you...

The next morning, Veracruz woke up with a grumble. He looked around and he tried to piece together the events of the previous night when he heard a rustle of movement. It hurt to move, but Veracruz managed to pull himself up and he was quickly able to find your gun where you left it on the coffee table and aimed it at you.

You were just a few feet away in your little kitchen when you heard Veracruz wake up, but you weren’t fast enough to get to your gun first. You raised your hands in surrender before you slowly moved one arm to turn off the burner that had breakfast simmering on it. The two of you held eye contact in silence for several moments before you finally broke.

“You’re not going to shoot me,” confidence lined your voice. 

He snarled, “Why is that?”

You took a tentative step and when he didn’t move, you took another one to close the distance, “Because I just saved your life,” you stepped even closer until you were within arm’s length, “And because I can do this,” you smacked Veracruz’s side where he was injured.

Veracruz yelped in pain as he dropped the gun and hunched over. You dove for your gun right away and pointed it at him. He glared up at you before he huffed, “Fine,” he grumbled as he conceded. 

Satisfied, you pointed towards your couch with your gun, “Sit down, the couch is more comfortable than the floor,” you said as you went back to the kitchen.

He glanced down at the floor and noticed that there were still bloodstains where he laid. Veracruz remembered that he came to your door late last night, but everything was a blur after he knocked. He didn’t think you’d actually help him and let him stay the night, and he couldn’t help but watch you move around your kitchen as you finished breakfast.

“You look like shit,” Veracruz finally spoke, which made you turn around.

“Well, someone had to show up at my door injured in the middle of the night,” you snapped back as you brought two plates over and sat down next to him on the couch, “You have a lot of explaining to do, Veracruz.”

He stared at you, dumbfounded. Though the two of you were on opposite sides of a conflict, Veracruz never fully hated you. In fact, he always had it in the back of his mind that he could get you to come around to his side at some point… or at least in his bed. However, he was well aware how much you hated him. Yet, despite that, you patched up his wounds, let him stay at your place and served him breakfast. 

Veracruz also couldn’t help the way his eyes drifted down to your bare legs as your shorts rode up when you sat down. 

“Don’t even think about it,” you warned when you saw his eyes drift down. You weren’t sure if he fully remembered what happened last night, but you didn’t want a repeat of his comment. Nevermind the way your face felt warm when he looked at you that way.

No, you hated Veracruz. You hated him, and the fact that you saved his life last night was a fluke. You told yourself that you only did it so you could be the one to turn him in yourself.

“So,” you changed the subject, “Explanation,” you repeated. 

“I thought you could figure it out on your own, agent,” he snarked back. When you just stared at him, Veracruz let out a heavy sigh and sank back against the couch, “Your agency isn’t what you think it is.”

You gave him a pointed look but stayed silent.

The comandante ignored your glare as he went on, “They did this,” he declared simply.

All the fight left your body as your eyes went wide, “No… We don’t operate dirty like that.”

He let out a short laugh before he inhaled sharply from the pain, “You’re a good person, agent, but not everyone is like you.”

You pressed him to explain more, but Veracruz passed out as he mumbled incoherently. With a sigh, you checked over his wounds while he slept before you sat back and thought about his words. You always thought you did the right thing, and you tried to be a fair and just person. But Veracruz’s words threw you for a loop. 

Soon, you shook your head as you tried to physically chase the thoughts out before you went to clean up your space. It was late into the afternoon and the comandante still didn’t wake, so you decided to shake him to make sure he was still alive. He groaned in his sleep, but did not wake up.

At least he seemed to be ok. You decided to let him sleep for a few hours before you woke him again. 

“What the hell, agent?” Veracruz growled at you as he sat up and grasped his side where you slapped him to wake him up, “Was that really necessary?”

“Yes,” you retorted right away, “You need to shower before your wounds fester and I have to get a new couch.”

The comandante gave you a half smile before he slowly got up and made his way into the bathroom. You paced your living room while you listened to the shower run as you contemplated your next move. 

But you weren’t prepared for when Veracruz emerged from your bathroom in nothing but his boxers. You froze and you knew your mouth hung open, yet you couldn’t help it. 

“Like what you see, cariño?” the smirk on his face mocked you.

You quickly shook your head and regained your composure as you cleared your throat, “You wish,” you paused and when the comandante opened his mouth with another smart comment, you blurted out, “We need to share the bed.”

That stopped him in his tracks.

“You’re still injured and I don’t have a guest room,” you gestured to your bedroom, “I don’t want you dying on me now, comandante,” you addressed him in a mocking tone.

“Whatever you have to tell yourself, agent,” his tone matched yours but he followed your lead into your bedroom and you both settled into your bed.

You placed yourself as far away from him as possible, and you made sure your gun was within reach. “Try anything and I’ll make those injuries look like child’s play.”

Veracruz grunted in response, but you missed the grin on his face. Just that little bit of movement seemed to tire him out though, and the comandante passed out within minutes.

Since when did you actually care about him? You told yourself it was just because you didn’t want him to die, but something tugged at the back of your mind that told you otherwise. In all the times you clashed in the past, there always seemed to be some tension between the two of you, but until now you ignored it. Maybe it was partly because Veracruz had numerous opportunities to kill you, yet he always left you alive. What exactly was it between you and him?

It was the middle of the night when Veracruz woke up again. He blinked a few times to adjust his eyes to the darkness and he looked around, confused as to his surroundings. It was then that he remembered you allowed him to share your bed, and he looked over to find that you were sound asleep next to him. 

Veracruz watched you for several minutes, and you had never looked more peaceful. You had to have been tired to be able to sleep next to him, and he wondered how long you stayed up the previous night when you tended to his wounds. He honestly expected you to call your superior and turn him in, but he had no other options when he escaped custody. 

The comandante grinned as you let out a deep breath in your sleep. He reached out and gently brushed his hand along the side of your face, careful not to wake you, “I knew you had a soft spot for me, agent.” 

Your brows furrowed together, “Keep dreaming, comandante,” your voice cut through the darkness before you opened your eyes. When you did, you were met with Veracruz’s face only inches from yours.

Both of you stared at each other in tense silence for several moments before Veracruz closed the space between you with a chaste kiss. He didn’t lean any of his weight against you to give you the opportunity to push him away. Instead, however, you wrapped a hand around his neck and pulled him closer. You parted your lips for him, and Veracruz eagerly deepened the kiss.

Carefully, the comandante shifted himself so that he was positioned between your legs. He gazed down at you, splayed out on your back in just a tank top and shorts, and you looked even better than he ever imagined, “I like you at this angle, agent,” he teased in a low voice before he leaned in and kissed you again.

Your comeback was muffled by Veracruz’s lips, and the more he kissed you, the less you cared about anything other than his body on yours. The comandante clawed at your clothes, and he had you stripped naked in no time.

And when he fucked you, it was unlike anyone you had ever been with before. Veracruz was rough, yet passionate. Even a large wound on his side didn’t seem to hinder him or slow him down. You arched into his touch and wrapped yourself around him, desperate for as much contact as possible. 

The comandante filled you so well, and fucked you into your matterss so throughly. You tried to keep your moans down at first, but he managed to coax the sounds out of you with his touches and kisses. And Veracruz didn’t stop until you came multiple times.

Exhausted and spent, you and Veracruz both fell asleep quickly after that. True to your stubborn nature, you rolled away from him when you dozed off, determined not to fall into his arms. However, during the night, you turned over in your sleep, and Veracruz took the opportunity to pull you in close to him.

The next morning, the bright sun woke you up. With a grumble, you stirred in your bed and blindly reached out for Veracruz with your eyes still closed. You patted the bed a few times before your eyes shot open and you gasped when you realized you were alone. Quickly, you grabbed the closest piece of clothing and draped it over your body as you rushed out of your bedroom to look for the comandante.

You called his name as you dashed into your living room, but you were only met with silent stillness. 

“Mierda,” you cured to yourself as you ran your hands across your face, “I’m so stupid,” you added in a more hushed voice as your eyes dropped down to your coffee table.

That was when you noticed a note in the middle of the table. You crossed the room and picked it up. With a scowl on your face, your eyes scanned the page:

“I appreciate what you’ve done for me, agent. Your company wasn’t so bad. But now our little game is back on. Until next time, I’ll think of you often.”

You sighed deeply, “Fucking Veracruz.”

~