#pepe garcia

pepe crossed the lawn with unhurried certainty, the faint citrus of his cologne threading through the night air before the warmth of him reached you. fingers found your waist — not a question, more a reminder — and the world narrowed to skin, breath, and the slow drag of time.

he twisted you, aligning your spine to his chest, the steady rise and fall of him anchoring you. knuckles skimmed the inside of your arm, tracing veins like a map he already knew. his mouth hovered near the curve where neck meets shoulder, breath grazing there, patient, making your pulse climb on its own. you exhaled; he followed it, palm flattening over your stomach, drawing you back, fitting you closer.

“hey .. what’s up?”

the question left your lips quietly, barely more than a breath, hanging in the thick stillness between. he moved then, guiding you backward, his front pushed snugly to your back, chest rising against your shoulder blades with every measured breath.

“wait? what ar’you -?”

pepe walked with you just like that .. careful, but rushed .. his hands held your sides with purpose, steering you forward, irritation humming beneath every step. still, he handled you like something fragile. breakable. like a package that might split open if jostled. like he didn’t quite trust the floor to hold you steady on its own.

and he couldn’t trust bryan either.

he’d seen it. the way bryan looked at you .. lingering, sizing, slipping. pepe knew that look too well. he’s a guy .. and hell, it was the same way he got you. eyes locked for two beats too long, wandering the next. that habitual licking of the lips, a very clear tell. pepe recognized it for what it was, and it made his jaw twitch.

because he remembered the beginning. be remembered the moment his eyes had done the same thing. and he remembered how you looked back ..

pepe’s foot nudged gently around yours, always just missing your heels, his grip constant, a quiet insistence: stay with me. no answers, no explanations ..

hidden at the far end of the villa, behind pale wooden doors that never quite latched, ‘the drift room’ felt less like a bedroom and more like stepping into the dream. it was one of those few spaces where there were no cameras in the corners, no lights in your face, not even a chirp of a cricket or ring of cicada.

the bed was low, sunken deep into the floor like it had always been waiting. sheer curtains framed the space, swaying gently from the ceiling with the hush of movement, pooling around the corners like spilled silk.

and you barely had time to notice the way the fabric caught the light .. because then it was your skin against the cool sheets, your chest pressed down, your hips lifted without resistance.

prone bone. absolutely intimidate .. yet aggressive .. every now and again, though. pepe’s warm chest blanketed your back, breath hot against your shoulder, one hand curled under your ribcage like he needed to hold something to stay alive, the other sweetly craning your head back.

“say it ..” he’d whisper, hot breath fanning against your lips, devotion in every push and drag of his heavy hips. “who’s is it? hmm? talk to me, bebé -“ and you’re struggling; trying your very hardest not to choke on each gargled moan and whine that sickly built up at the back of your throat. “say my name.” you couldn’t, but between your legs .. you were extremely vocal. in a way .. it was a response. but he wasn’t looking for such.

pepe’s sweaty forehead touched down onto your shoulder. he kissed your salty skin once before readjusting your lower half with both hands; fingers digging into your jerking waist and tugging upward .. drawing himself deeper — he’s grunting into your ear and you’re wailing louder, insides feeling fuller than ever. “dios mío .. te sientes -” pepe grumbled and muttered something filthy in spanish, his voice dropping a register.

he rolled his r’s the way you loved, and it broke you down faster than you’d care to admit. you tried as best you could to give a nod, underneath the steady pressure of his big, grabby hands.

he stopped a moment .. cock buried and pulsing just slightly with his heartbeat.

“hmmph-!!”

and now .. his thrusts are shorter. angling up every time with an intense roll of the hips that slammed the head of his cock right into your most sensitive spot, the one that sent you into cloud nine without fail. “bebé ..”

you couldn’t help it, you squirmed and struggled to move, but pepe’s hand thankfully kept you in place. made you take all of it. made you .. hmmph! again, made sure you couldn’t escape from being wrecked as ruthlessly and efficiently as possible.

you saw stars almost immediately, and tears started to brim in the waterline of your brown eyes. “mngh!” your jaw grew taut and a furrow was replaced between those arched brows — there was a patronising tone to his voice as he brought one hand up to your cheek .. fingers drilling past your lips. and he’s mumbling at the shell of your ear again. you whine from this, mouth hanging open and tongue lolling out, drool cascading down your chin in globs.

“it’s mine .. right’?” pepe removed his fingers from your lips and leaned in for a soft kiss. “tell me, now.” he was close. soooo close. the edge quite literally just a word away.

a rush bubbled through your entire being: “it’s yours! o-oooh my- i’m yours!” you cried into pepe’s mouth, tongue tangling up with his as you felt the first warm splash of cum. pepe gasped softly, groaning loudly and harshly humping into your sex, further emptying his pearly white load, while you poorly gripped the sheets.

pepe held you through it, hand firm at your waist, forehead pushes into the side of your face as if sealing the moment into your skin. he stayed molded to you, breath evening out against your neck, fingers still lazily circling your hip like the night wasn’t over .. like this was only the first quiet ruin he planned to make of you.

you were lying on a lounger in the thick of the afternoon haze, just beyond the pool, where the sun hit soft and slow through the slats of the pergola. your ankles were crossed at the end, jewellery dragging over each other, toes wiggling absentmindedly, skin warm from hours under the early-july sky. the tattered paperback in your hands looked like it had lived another life before this villa — pages worn, corners curled, spine cracked in the middle like someone once clung to it the way you were now.

you weren’t reading fast. you weren’t even halfway through the chapter. you were the kind of person who lingered — not just on sentences, but meanings. you were big on annotating; colored post-its, pens, markers, but you had nothing on standby. and it was obvious in the way you read: thumb resting in place, eyes still, mind somewhere far away. you turned each page like it might bruise if handled wrong.

your mermaid-braids were up, tied loosely with a ribbon you'd found at the bottom of your suitcase. a single curl had slipped down, trailing along your temple in that soft, feather-light way that always seemed to catch his eye. the way the wind teased it made it look alive — like the breeze itself couldn’t resist touching you.

pepe was in the pool with the boys, arms draped over the edge, water glinting off his broad shoulders. laughter echoed behind him — boys talking in half-jokes, half-shouts, the way they always did when production gave a film break. but pepe wasn't really listening.

his eyes were on you. always you.

they kept drifting .. like a compass needle that couldn’t help but point north.

he’d glance away, then back again. watch your fingers tuck the page into place. watch the way your mouth pressed softly into a line, thinking. the way your brows drew together — barely, just a flicker — when something heavy passed through the paragraph and into you.

that was when it hit him — right in the chest, low and quiet and full.

it wasn’t desire, not exactly. it wasn’t lust, not the kind that made his breath catch or his pulse race. it was something gentler. you were way too cute.

and he wanted to climb out of the pool, cross the deck, and kneel next to you — just to press his lips to that tiny crease between your brows and smooth it away with his thumb.

something in that moment — you reading, unaware, feeling something he couldn’t see — hurt a little. not because you were far. not even because he didn’t understand it.

but because you were so deep inside your own head, so fully wrapped in your own quiet world, that he couldn’t reach you — not without disturbing it.

and the way you existed like that, self-contained and soft, made him feel something almost unbearable. like being witness to a secret too beautiful to speak aloud.

so he gripped the edge of the pool tighter. fingers curling over the concrete. jaw locked, gaze low.

he didn’t say why. wouldn’t know how to explain it even if someone asked.

but in that sun-warmed silence, with your dress slipping just off your knee and your mind somewhere between chapters .. you looked more like a painting than a black womam.

it was ridiculous, really .. how something as simple as the curve of your ankle, the slope of your spine as you leaned forward just a bit, could make his body ache. not in that brash, teenage way he used to feel. this was different. lower. slower. it bloomed in his stomach and settled behind his eyes, pulling a quiet sound out of the back of his throat he didn’t let anyone hear.

he looked away again for half a second just to breathe — just to remember how to.

but even with his gaze cast toward the sky, you were still behind his eyes.

pepe ducked under water .. he needed to cool off. he needed to buy himself a minute of calm because he could feel himself reacting, and not in a way he wanted the other boys to see. not in a way he could talk about.

because what was he supposed to say?

that the way you held a book made his stomach flip?

that the soft line of your throat, the shape of your mouth, your knuckles brushing your chin — turned him on more than anything he’d seen?

that he was hard now, half-hiding it in the water, praying the breeze didn’t die down, praying no one called his name, praying you didn’t suddenly look up and smile — because that would ruin him entirely.

underwater, pepe closed his eyes. let the weight press in on his body. let the ache settle. but it didn’t go away.

and when he surfaced, eyes burning from the chlorine, you were still there. still perfect. still so completely unaware of what you were doing to him.

.. you looked up then. finally.

just a glance. a warm blink. a hint of a smile — not a big one, just enough to soften your whole face. and in that single second, pepe felt his entire body go tense again.

his fingers clenched against the pool wall. his breath left him in a slow exhale. and then you dropped your gaze back to the page, lips pressed together gently, eyes scanning the lines like nothing had happened. like you hadn’t just pulled a string inside him so tight it nearly snapped.

pepe was so focused, so consumed, he didn’t see it coming. didn’t even register the sound of footsteps. didn’t hear the low chuckle or the slosh of water near the opposite end of the pool.

it wasn’t until the blast of cold water hit him straight in the face, hard and sudden and violent, that he snapped back to reality. “ayooo!” he had gasped, jolting backward like he’d been punched, wiping his eyes, sputtering. “what the f-?”

parked right in front of him at the edge of the pool, smug as can be, were nic and ace, armed with two of the biggest water-guns in the villa. bright orange and hot pink in design. loaded to capacity. too late to get more sprays off, olandria; with the water balloons, and chelly; with a bedazzled squirt-bazooka had been rushing in to pepe’s defense.

amaya swooped in right after. “pep! hurry! which one?!” she’d been smiling from ear to ear, a giggling mess and dripping in chilled water, presenting two spray weapons. pistols, one baby pink and the other a dark purple. both with what looked to be a drop of water within. smaller than amaya’s palms, no doubt kiddie in his.

just when pepe grabbed the purple water-gun, amaya shrieked as a water balloon exploded against the side of her hip. and huda, with a double nozzle sprayer, retaliated, shooing off iris — amaya quickly took cover, diving animatedly behind a recliner.

the entire villa had been transformed into a battleground. balloons were flying, flip-flops were lost, shrieks of betrayal, the usual poolside calm had been gone.

pepe didn’t join right away .. he stayed floating there, blinking water out of his lashes, trying to get a comfortable hold on the purple pistol. his gaze shifted then, and he watched you jump up from where you were resting — drenched from chris’ bucket toss ( don’t worry, your book was not hit! ).

he wiped a hand down his face and just like that, you disappeared. vanished into thin air. like you’d dissolved in the spray, in the heat, in the sparkle of sound around him.

pepe blinked once, twice — then stilled. his body turned, lazy and deliberate, as if by moving slowly he might spot the corner of your dress fluttering. but all he saw were streaks of color .. too many racing bodies, none of them you.

pepe spun a little more, sifting through movement with that same quiet pull of devotion he didn’t fully understand. not frantic, not yet.

he turned again.

and again.

a crease formed between his brows, small but intent.

it was absurd .. how badly he wanted to see you again after only seconds. how fast the energy in his limbs, in his chest, shifted from playful to needing. you had slipped out of his arms like water — and now, in the middle of all this, he couldn’t feel you anywhere.

until —

THWACK.

cold. sudden. a bright splash across his back.

pepe jolted forward from the impact, half-cursing under his breath, teeth clenching against the shock of water exploding over his spine.

and then .. your laugh; sharp, musical, guilty.

he spun to find you standing up above — grinning like you’d gotten away with a crime, arms already fidgety like you were ready to run again.

your braids were down, cascading over your shoulders beautifully. your hands still wet from the throw. a smile tugged hard at your lips.

and god.

there you were.

found again.

his whole body exhaled, but his mouth curved up slow, like the ache of missing you had been replaced by something equally dangerous.

desire. delight. relief.

you cocked a brow, playful and sweet — and then bolted .. pepe launched himself out of the water in one smooth motion and took off after you, heart racing for reasons that had nothing to do with balloons or revenge.

just you.

always you.

you didn’t even try to run when he appeared. pepe rounded the corner, eyes scanning, curls dripping, water trailing down his abdomen. and the second he saw you — half-tucked behind the green, smiling like you’d won — his mouth curved, slow and certain.

he didn’t say anything.

just walked toward you.

pepe landed into your space and you let him, back pressing gently to the leafy wall behind you .. water dripped from you and him in little rivers, pooling around. your chest rose and fell fast. so did his. and for a second, you both just breathed. pepe was looking at you like you were something fragile and necessary all at once. his brows were pinched with a tenderness that almost hurt, and a smile played faintly at his lips — the kind that didn’t need to be wide to be full.

.. and in that moment, you could’ve stayed like that forever. hidden, humming, half-drenched and half-dreaming. but the universe, or at least chris, had other plans. “found ‘em!” a water balloon arced over the banana leaves and smashed into the hedge just above pepe’s shoulder — cold and bursting, the splash catching both your faces in a sharp sting.

you and pepe flinched at the same time — a matching wince, his arm instinctively coming up to shield you even though it was already over.

then came the laughter. yours first, bubbling and messy, his a second later, lower and warm, like it spilled from the pit of his stomach.

you didn’t wait. still laughing, still breathless, you reached down and snatched pepe’s hand, fingers slick but solid, and pulled him with you, away from the ambush. taylor and iris had already armed themselves with more balloons and were lobbing it over with wild aim.

another spray — this one from someone on your left — sent a fine mist across your shoulder and pepe’s arm. he squeezed your hand tighter, laughing now, deep and a little winded. but his gaze never left you. even when you both ducked under the swinging towel amaya was using as a shield, he kept glancing at you like you were the center of it all.

and then — the pool. just ahead. clear and waiting, a glittering stretch of blue beyond the noise. you slowed just enough to breathe and he pulled you with him, a fast, reckless tug ..

SPLASH!

dinner had been set out on the long villa table — grilled vegetables, seafood skewers, little tapas-style plates shared between hands and laughter. olandria had thrown on music, just low enough to vibe with, and the sky overhead was now a deep navy velvet, scattered with stars. and warm lights hung above the table, strung from palm to palm, casting everything in a soft golden blur.

you’d taken your time getting ready — not on purpose, but the day had clung to your skin; chlorine and heat. you needed the reset. and you gave it to yourself: a long shower, a little oil on your skin, some liner and gloss, and your braids styled up off your face in a way that felt both soft and you.

you slipped into a long, white halter dress, something silky and backless, and when you walked outside toward the dinner table — laughter already spilling out — the conversation hit a slight hiccup.

and pepe saw you first.

he was mid-sentence when his words just .. fell. mouth parted. his eyes dragged down from your updid braids to the curve of your shoulders, the glow on your collarbones, the way your dress moved like water.

“.. mierda ..” pepe’s chair scraped as he stood up. “are you serious right now?” like he had to make sure you were real. his face cracked into the softest smile. “you’re too perfect,” mumbles under his breath. he pulled a chair out for you and then settled beside you — closer than ever before.

his leg brushed yours under the table. his hand slid to the back of your seat. every few minutes, he glanced at you again, like he still couldn’t get enough. “you are so gorgeous.” was the start of something serious. because throughout the entire dinner, between bites and stories and refills of wine, he kept stealing looks and brushing compliments against your skin. whispered under his breath, or full volume when someone called him out. like it physically pained him not to adore you out loud.

his hands were active; gripping and squishing at your thighs, dancing and tracing along your shoulder, twirling around a loose boho-curl. and by the end of the night, everyone was full, glowing that post water-war glow, and stretched out in their chairs, pepe was still staring at you like you’d just walked out for the first time.

his hand had drifted to the back of your chair again, his thumb grazing a fallen braid like he was curious if you’d want it returned to the bun or left alone. pepe leaned in to ask if you were warm enough .. ‘mhmm.’ then, if you wanted more of the grilled corn .. ‘i’m done. yup. forreal this time.’

you were always beautiful. so unbelievably beautiful. and you knew that. but tonight? you were a problem. and everytime you met his gaze, he looked like he was falling in love all over again .. like he could take a bite out of your cuteness. the corners of his eyes crinkled softly like he was holding back a thousand things he could say and choosing instead to just look at you.

you groaned softly, hiding your face in your hands. “you are bein’ so dramatic. ohmygoshh.” pepe grinned and leaned in gently, sliding his fingers beneath your wrists and easing your hands down. “no,” he murmured, eyes glinting. “you just don’t know how hard you’re hittin’ me right’now.” his voice was deep, thick with affection. no teasing in it now. just truth.

around you, the dinner table had started to unravel — chairs scraping quietly against stone, sandals scuffing as islanders drifted back into the villa to brush their teeth, change, sneak off for chats by the fire pit. the night was winding down in soft, sleepy pieces. “don’t go to bed yet. please ..”

and pepe tilted his head slightly toward the side garden. “come, bebé,” he said, accent slipping lightly over the two words — rich and velvet-smooth. “i wanna look at you a little longer.”

and you followed him down a narrow, stone-lined path lit with even more fairy lights strung overhead. the glow a muted honey yellow, barely enough to see by, but it made everything feel smaller. more hidden. more yours.

pepe guided you past the trellis until the path opened into a small alcove — part of the villa, technically, but no pairing had used it in a long while. it was mostly overlooked, half-shaded during the day, hidden behind hanging vines and the big flowering bush that always rustled when the breeze rolled through.

a cushioned love-sofa lined the area, and a low fire bowl crackled nearby, throwing soft warmth into the air.

he sat first, and then reached for you.

no words. no questions. just a quiet tug at your wrist. gentle and loving. his fingers barely curved around yours, and yet it carried so much weight. you didn’t ask.

and your body moved before your thoughts caught up — knee brushing the cushion, the silk of your dress slipping against your thighs, the soft sigh of fabric giving way as he guided you effortlessly over his lap. straddling him. face to face.

pepe’s hands settled at your hips like they belonged there, and your own found his shoulders, anchoring. his legs adjusted under you — steady, wide, grounding — and your breath caught in your throat.

he just looked up at you with something that shimmered like reverence, like quiet hunger carefully folded into tenderness. his thumbs brushed slow circles at your waist, like something inside him was straining at the leash.

and your hips shifted, barely — but enough. enough to feel the way he caught his breath. “mierda, mierda,” he whispered, voice suddenly thicker. “n-no. you can’t move like that, bebé.” pepe’s grip at your waist tightened instinctively, pulling you just a little closer, until your chest brushed his. he looked up at you like the world had gone quiet — like nothing else existed except the two of you.

you tilted your head, breath ghosting his. “i was getting comfortable ..” a sweet lie, pepe knew. his mouth twitched into a knowing smirk, eyes flicking down as his fingers traced lower, palms gliding over the curve of your thighs, anchoring at your hips like he needed to feel every part of you.

then one hand slid up again — slow, intentional — until his fingers wrapped gently around your neck. not tight. just enough to hold you there. still. close. his thumb brushed the underside of your jaw, and his voice dropped. “yeah?” he murmured. “how’re you feelin’ now, bebé?”

his hip rolled up into yours. it wasn’t fast. it wasn’t rough. just one slow, deliberate thrust that had your breath catching and your nails digging a little deeper into his shoulders. you felt everything. the solid press of him beneath you, the way his thighs tensed beneath your own, the quiet groan he tried to swallow but couldn’t fully contain — like holding back was getting harder by the second.

“pepe -“ you breathed, a whisper that barely made it out.

his hand stayed at your neck, thumb stroking lightly under your jaw as his other arm curled tighter around your waist, keeping you flushed against him. “mm?” his eyes were darker now, half-lidded, gaze pinned to your mouth like it was pulling him under.

he didn’t have to say anything else. his body was saying it for him — slow, pressing heat rising between you, the tension stretching tight and trembling like the last second before a storm.

and then he did it again — another smooth thrust upward, firmer this time .. the outline of his hardened cock dragging against your panties. “ay, dios ..” he muttered and the sigh that left your lips turned into something closer to a moan, and his responding smile was slow, satisfied, shameless.

pepe’s mouth caught yours in a kiss that started tender and slow, but deepened too quickly — urgency threaded with awe. his hand slipped just under the hem of your dress, his fingertips found the bare skin of your thighs and kneaded, possessively. “tell me if it’s too much .. too fast ..” he whispered into your mouth.

you gave a soft nod and felt his grin.

pepe’s hands moved over you like a promise .. he eased the silk higher, inch by inch, revealing more of you in the soft light. his touch was careful, worshipful. like every part of you was delicate and deserving. and still — his palms were firm enough to remind you just how much he wanted you. “prettiest i’ve ever seen ..”

you didn’t rush. he didn’t rush .. at all. pepe was so careful and attentive, kissing every bit of skin. he paused, every single time, to ask softly, ‘this okay?’ before going further. and the way you kept saying ‘yes’, because nothing had ever felt more right than this.

and when he eased into you .. it wasn’t rushed.

it was breath held and released all at once. it was his hands cupping your waist as if grounding himself. your arms wrapped around his shoulders, holding tight. the slow, careful rhythm he set — hips rolling up into you, pulling low, broken sounds from your throat as you moved with him.

a breathy little sigh. “bebé ..” pepe gulped, basking in the feel of your wetness. your warmth .. it was suffocating. “n-not gonna lastt -“ he cooed, feeling the crazed repetitive throb of his tip accelerate. pepe’s eyes fluttered and his head lolled back softly, hands still lazily guiding your body up and down.

you cupped your hands over his cheeks. then, softly, sweetly, you pressed a kiss to the slope of his nose. “i love you ..” you whimpered, like a secret. like a truth that had been living in your chest for days, maybe weeks .. aching to be said aloud. and it was immediate — the butterflies. a wild, dizzying flutter in his belly and his ribs and his throat. like saying it unlocked something. like everything inside of you just leapt toward him, unafraid.

pepe’s eyes snapped open. blow pupils. lips wavering. a kind of breathless disbelief coloring his whole face.

you watched it hit him in real time — that moment where someone heard something they’ve longed for but never wanted to force. you could see it all across his expression: the shock, the softness, the stunned, radiant joy trying to catch up.

pepe didn’t ask you to say it again. because he knew what he heard — and he didn’t want to risk the magic of the moment by asking for a replay. instead, he just looked at you like you had handed him the entire world, like you had cracked open your chest and given him something too precious for words.

“c’mere.” pepe held you in place — wiggling his hips, burying inch after inch. your mouth dropped, but nothing left .. too stunned to speak. you gasped cutely instead, fingers digging into his biceps for balance, your thighs trembling dangerously. “shhhhh,” he murmured, mouth grazing your jaw. “i’ve got you, bebé. i’ve got you.”

and when your hips stuttered, and your head fell forward onto his shoulder, his arms tightened again, holding you together, riding it out with you .. every pulse, every tremble, every quiet sound you made against his skin. “that’s it,” he whispered, breath hot in your ear. “that’s my pretty girl.”

“mierdaaaa ..” pepe whined into your neck repeatedly, taking a moment to swallow before he was shooting inside your clenching hole, his entire body locking and tensing.