“Javi?” you called softly, knocking on the door. You didn’t exactly wait for an answer, though. You knew you weren’t going to get one.

Javi was so deep in his own head, drowning in guilt, that he didn’t want to let anyone near him. For one thing, you’d known him long enough to recognize when he got like this.

And for another, you’d run into Messina in the hallway just as she was leaving his room. She’d only shaken her head and said something about there being no point trying. Almost like she meant there was no point trying to comfort him. Or talk him out of blaming himself.

You knew she hadn’t meant anything bad by it. From what you could tell, she genuinely liked Javi. As her subordinate, of course.

Still, it pissed you off. It felt like everyone had already given up, like none of it really mattered because Peña would get over it eventually. But you didn’t think that way. Not when it came to him. So you walked in without waiting to be invited.

“Fuck, what now? I already said I don’t wanna talk about it,” Javi snapped. That told you he hadn’t even heard your voice when you knocked. He clearly thought Messina had come back. Then he finally looked toward the door.

You saw his body go a little tense when he realized it was you. He hadn’t expected to see you. Not now, not like this. Not even tonight. You hadn’t made any plans to meet. “What are you doing here?” was all he asked.

He was sitting in the chair behind his desk. In front of him sat a half-empty bottle of whiskey, or whatever the hell it was, and a glass that had already been mostly drained.

You found yourself hoping the bottle hadn’t been full when he opened it. He didn’t look drunk, but the last thing he needed right now, while he was blaming himself for everything, was to get completely wasted on top of it.

“I heard what happened.” You slowly walked farther into the room, heading toward the desk. Files were scattered across it, his gun resting on top of them. A small lamp gave off a weak yellow glow. You stopped in front of him.

You didn’t know whether you should touch him. God, you wanted to. But you knew him.

He was too far inside his own head right now, buried under everything he thought he’d done wrong.

If you reached for him or tried to hug him, you’d only make him pull away. He’d shut down before you got anything out of him.

So instead, you slowly sat on the arm of the chair across from him, moving his denim jacket out of the way with one hand.

Javi watched you through narrowed eyes. Suspicious.

And honestly, you couldn’t blame him. Not after what had happened tonight. “I... I know you probably don’t wanna hear that it wasn’t your fault. Messina probably already told you that before I got here, but–”

“You’re right. I don’t,” he cut in, his voice low. He propped his head up with one hand. The other rested between his thighs, his legs slightly spread as he sat there.

Fuck, he looked vulnerable.

Before you could say anything else, Javi spoke again. “What are you doing here?” he asked for the second time.

Honestly, you didn’t know what to say. You wanted to tell him you’d come because you needed to see him. Or that you knew he’d blame himself for Carrillo’s death and that you’d known you would find him exactly like this.

But none of it felt like it would mean anything. Because the man sitting in front of you clearly wanted nothing more than to be left alone with the silence of this shitty room and the alcohol already running through his veins.

“I didn’t want you to be alone,” you finally said. And it wasn’t a lie. That was exactly why you were there. “Not now. Not after what happened.”

“What the hell do you know about what happened?” Javi said bitterly. He lifted the glass to his mouth and swallowed whatever was left in it.

“I talked to Murphy.”

Javi let out a quiet laugh, but there was nothing amused about it. It was just a short, bitter breath as he reached for the bottle and poured more whiskey into his glass. This time, he didn’t even bother setting it down properly. He left it sitting crooked between the scattered files and stared into his drink like there might be something at the bottom of it that nobody else had managed to tell him. “So now you know everything,” he said. “Murphy told you how the whole thing went to shit, then explained how obviously nobody’s to blame.”

“He told me what happened.”

“No.” Javi slowly shook his head. “He told you how it ended.” He lifted the glass toward his mouth, but didn’t drink. He just held it between his fingers, his thumb running along the rim.

You watched his hand and noticed the slight tremor. It wasn’t obvious. Barely there, really. But with Javi, even that meant more than someone else breaking down right in front of you.

“The tip came to me,” he said after a moment. His voice was still calm. Too calm. “Straight to me. Nobody brought it in. Nobody made me believe it. I questioned that fucking girl. I decided what she was saying made sense.”

“Because you had no reason to think it was a trap.”

His eyes finally lifted to yours. They looked tired, red, and completely empty. “No reason?” he repeated. “After everything Escobar’s done? All the fake tips, dead informants, people he’s bought off?” His jaw tightened. “I had a thousand reasons not to trust it.”

“And how many tips have you checked that turned out to be real? You can’t know ahead of time every single time.”

“That’s my job.” He said it so simply that the words hit you somewhere under the ribs. “My job is knowing who I can trust. My job is knowing when someone’s trying to put us exactly where they want us.” He set the glass down harder than he meant to, and whiskey spilled over the edge onto one of the files. Javi didn’t even notice. “Instead, I picked up the phone, listened to where Escobar was supposed to be, and passed the information straight to Carrillo.”

“Javi...”

“I saw the look on his face when I went to him with that.” His eyes dropped again. “I told him I believed it.” The words didn’t come easily. He had to force them out, one at a time, and with each one, more tension settled into his face. “And he trusted me,” he added quietly. “He didn’t even ask me more than once if I was sure.” His voice dropped even lower. “He just believed me.”

“Because you’d never knowingly given him bad information.”

“Yeah, I’m sure that helps him a lot now.” He closed his eyes and pressed a hand to his forehead. For a few seconds, the only sound in the room was his heavy breathing.

You wanted to get up, go to him, and wrap your arms around him so tightly he couldn’t keep going. So he couldn’t say another one of those things he was using to tear himself apart. But you knew if you touched him now, he’d push you away. Maybe harder than he meant to.

“You know how many times I’ve replayed that conversation in my head since it happened?” he asked suddenly.

You didn’t answer.

He wasn’t expecting you to. “Over and over. Every word. Every fucking second.” He dragged a hand over his face, then let it fall between his thighs. “I keep trying to find something I should’ve heard. Something in her voice. Something in the tip. One fucking thing that should’ve stopped me.”

“Why? Because you need to prove you could’ve prevented it?”

His jaw tightened immediately. You saw something shift in him. The pain he’d been holding down started turning into anger. “Don’t tell me what I need.”

“Then tell me what you want from me. What do you need right now?”

“I want you to leave.” He didn’t raise his voice. He said it flatly, without looking at you, like if he sounded calm enough, you might actually get up and leave him there.

“No.”

That made him look at you. “No?” he repeated slowly.

“I’m not trying to make you talk. You don’t have to explain anything to me. But I’m not leaving you alone while you’re clearly trying to drown yourself in that bottle and convince yourself you killed Carrillo.”

The second you said Carrillo’s name, Javi went completely still. For a moment, he didn’t even breathe. Then he planted both hands on his thighs and shot up from the chair. “I don’t have to convince myself of anything.” The chair scraped across the floor when he knocked into it. He took a few steps toward the wall, but the room was too small for him to get away from you or from his own head. He stopped with his back to you, both hands on his hips, his head lowered. “The tip came from me,” he said, louder now. “And I passed it on to Carrillo and sent him there.”

“You passed along information. You didn’t tell Escobar to be waiting for him.”

“You think that fucking matters?” He spun around so fast his shirt shifted around his body. “You think Carrillo’s any less dead because I wasn’t the one who pulled the trigger?”

“Escobar killed him.”

“I put him on that street!” His voice slammed into the walls. He wasn’t only yelling at you anymore. He was yelling at Messina. At Murphy. At Escobar. At Carrillo. At himself. At every fucking thing he couldn’t change. “I told him where to go! I told him the tip was good! Then I sat there like a fucking idiot listening to the radio, waiting for him to call and tell me we had Escobar, while he was driving straight into a trap I sent him into!”

“You didn’t know!”

“I should’ve known!”

“How?” you shot back. “Tell me how, Javi. How the fuck were you supposed to know this one tip was a trap?”

“I don’t know!” he shouted. “But I fucking should have!” His voice cracked on the last word.

Just barely, but you heard it. Underneath all that anger, the thing he’d been trying so hard to hide finally broke through. Pure, raw helplessness.

Javi turned his back on you and ran both hands through his hair. He took a few sharp breaths, but they didn’t help. His shoulders kept rising and falling like he’d just run for miles, even though he’d barely moved across the room. “You know what the best part is?” he said after a moment. His voice was quieter now, but the anger was still there. It had just turned back in on him. “This isn’t the first time.”

He slowly turned to face you.

“He’s not the first person I told everything was gonna be okay. He’s not the first person I sent somewhere they never came back from.” A bitter smile pulled at his mouth, but his eyes stayed completely empty. “People around me die. Informants. Agents. Cops. Anyone who trusts me long enough to do what I tell them.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is.”

“No. It’s just what you need to believe right now, because hating yourself is easier than admitting you can’t control everything.”

His expression hardened. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“I know you’re trying to scare me.”

“Then be fucking scared!” he snapped. “For once, listen to what I’m telling you. Anyone who gets close to me ends up fucked. Carrillo trusted me, and now he’s dead. Helena trusted me too, a long time ago, and look what they fucking did to her. How many more people is it gonna take before you realize this isn’t some goddamn coincidence?”

“So that’s why you’re trying to throw me out? Because you’ve decided you’re protecting me?”

“Yes!” The answer came out immediately. No hesitation. Only after he said it did he seem to realize what he’d admitted.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Javi looked away and clenched his fists. He suddenly looked so exhausted you were almost surprised he was still standing. All the energy he’d had a second ago seemed to disappear with that one word. “Go home,” he said, much quieter now. “Just go.”

“No.”

“Jesus fucking christ, why can’t you listen to me for once?”

“Because I don’t want to.”

“This isn’t about what you want.”

“And it’s not only about what you want either.”

Javi shook his head, but this time he didn’t argue. He slowly went back to the desk and grabbed the back of the chair. For a moment, he just stood there, hunched over with both hands gripping it like he needed to make sure his legs were still going to hold him up.

Then he sat down heavily. Not like before. This time, he practically collapsed into the chair. He rested his elbows on his thighs, let his hands hang between his knees, and dropped his head so low you couldn’t see his face.

He looked smaller somehow. Not physically. Just more broken. Like that short burst of anger had taken everything he had left and left nothing behind. “I can’t do this anymore,” he breathed. The words were so quiet you almost didn’t hear them.

You didn’t know whether he meant tonight. Colombia. Escobar. All the dead bodies. Or everything.

“I can’t keep sending people out there and waiting to find out if they’re coming back,” he continued. “I can’t keep listening to people tell me it wasn’t my fault when I was right in the middle of it every fucking time.”

“Javi...”

“I gave him the tip.” His voice was rough, more broken than you’d ever heard it. “If I hadn’t, he’d still be alive.”

“Maybe he would be. Tonight,” you said quietly. “Maybe it would’ve happened next week. Or next month. Maybe he would’ve survived all of it. I don’t know. You don’t know. Nobody does.”

His jaw tightened, but he kept staring at the floor.

“But I do know who killed him,” you continued. “And it wasn’t you.”

“Stop.”

“No.”

“I said stop.”

“And I’m telling you I’m not gonna stop just because you yell at me.”

Javi slowly shook his head. He looked like he didn’t have the energy to tell you to leave again. Like all he could do was sit there, stare at the floor, and wait for you to finally give up on your own. “You don’t know what I’m like,” he muttered. There was no anger in his voice anymore. He wasn’t blaming you either. He just sounded defeated. “You don’t know all the shit I’ve done. The people I’ve used. The people I let walk because it worked for me at the time. How many people I promised we’d protect, only to end up doing fuck all when it mattered.” He swallowed and rubbed his palms together like he was trying to wash off something only he could see. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“But I am.”

“Then maybe you’re not as smart as I thought you were.”

This time, it didn’t hurt. Not because it wasn’t cruel, but because you knew exactly what he was trying to do.

He wanted to piss you off. He wanted you to take it personally, get up, and walk out because he didn’t have it in him to make you leave any other way.

And that was exactly why you finally stood up from the arm of the chair.

Javi noticed. His shoulders dropped slightly, like for one second, he really thought he’d done it. That he’d finally pushed you far enough to leave.

But you didn’t head for the door. You walked straight toward him. When you stopped in front of his chair, he still didn’t look up.

He just clasped his hands between his knees and kept his head down, his eyes fixed somewhere near your feet. “Go,” he said one last time. But there was nothing left in his voice that could make you listen.

You reached down and took his chin between your fingers.

Javi flinched slightly at the first touch, but he didn’t pull away. His jaw only tightened, like he was waiting for another argument he’d have to defend himself against.

You held him a little firmer and slowly lifted his head until he had no choice but to look at you. “Then look at me when you tell me I’d be better off without you.” You still had your fingers under his chin, and you could feel how tense his jaw was.

Like even now, he was fighting the urge to look away, shut down, and disappear back inside his own head before you saw anything else.

But this time, you didn’t let him. “Say it,” you continued quietly. “Look me in the eye and tell me you want me to leave because you don’t want me here. Not because you’ve convinced yourself you need to save me from you.”

Something shifted in his eyes. A quick flash of pain that he tried to bury almost immediately. “You don’t know what you want,” he said at last.

“I know exactly what I want.”

“No.” He shook his head, even though your hand made it harder. “You see me like this and think you can fix me.”

“I’m not trying to fix you.”

“Then what the fuck do you want?” The question came out sharper than he probably meant it to, but underneath the anger, all you could hear was exhaustion. Almost desperation. Like he was honestly asking you to explain why you were still standing there when he couldn’t think of a single good reason for you to stay.

You slowly ran your thumb along his jaw. “I want you to stop acting like I don’t get a say in my own life.”

Javi frowned. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“This.” You held his chin for another second before letting go. “The way you keep deciding what’s best for me. Deciding I’d be better off leaving. That I should be scared of you. That pushing me away somehow means you’re protecting me.” Your hand moved to his cheek. His skin was warm beneath your palm, rough with stubble. “You can’t keep pretending you’re giving me a choice when you’re doing everything you can to make me choose what you want.”

“I want you to be safe.” This time, he said it quietly. No yelling. No bitterness. And somehow, that made it hit even harder.

“I know.”

“No, you don’t.” His eyes dropped, but your hand stayed against his face. “You don’t know what it’s like waiting for the phone to ring and finding out another person you care about is dead.”

“And you don’t know what it’s like being stuck on the outside, wondering if you’re ever gonna let me in.”

His eyes lifted to yours again.

“I can’t promise nothing will ever happen to me,” you continued. “Just like you can’t promise you’ll always come back. But you don’t get to push me away every time you’re scared you might lose something.”

“I already lost someone.” His voice cracked so quietly you might not have noticed if you hadn’t been standing so close.

“I know,” you breathed.

Javi closed his eyes. For a second, he leaned into your palm. Barely. Like he didn’t even realize he was doing it until it was too late to stop himself. There was something so painfully vulnerable about it that your chest hurt. “Don’t tell me it’s gonna be okay,” he muttered. “Because it’s not.”

“Then I won’t.”

“And don’t tell me it’ll stop hurting.”

“I won’t tell you that either.”

He slowly opened his eyes. “Then what the fuck can you tell me?”

You leaned closer until there was almost no space left between your faces. “That I’m here.”

Javi didn’t move.

“That you don’t have to be alone tonight. You don’t have to explain anything or defend yourself. You don’t have to be a good agent. You don’t have to know what happens next. You don’t have to pretend you’re the guy who can handle all of this.” You slid your fingers into the hair at the back of his neck and gently held on. “You can just be here. With me.”

His breath brushed your lips. You could smell the whiskey, but his eyes were focused now. Present. Not as empty as they’d been before. “You shouldn’t want me right now,” he said.

“Stop telling me what I should want.” You brought your other hand to his face, holding him with both hands now.

“I’m fucked up.”

“I know.”

“I could hurt you.”

“Then don’t.”

The simple answer shut him up. For a moment, he just looked at you. Guilt, want, self-hatred, and something that almost looked like fear all crossed his face. Not fear of you. Fear that if he touched you, he might stop thinking about Carrillo for a few minutes. That he might let himself want something other than punishment.

You leaned closer and lightly pressed your lips to his forehead. It wasn’t a kiss asking for anything. Just a brief, warm touch. “I’m not asking you to forget him,” you whispered. “I just don’t want you destroying yourself tonight because of him.”

Javi’s hands finally moved. They closed around yours, still holding his face. He didn’t pull them away. He just held on, like he needed to make sure you were really there. “What exactly do you want from me?” he asked again, his voice lower this time. Then he slowly let go of your hands.

“Right now?”

He nodded.

You lowered your hands from his face, letting them slide down his neck and onto his chest. You could feel his heart pounding beneath his shirt. “I want you to let me stay.”

Javi swallowed. His large hands moved to your hips, gripping the fabric of your clothes. He still didn’t pull you closer, but he wasn’t trying to stop you either.

“And if you don’t want this,” you added, keeping your eyes on his, “then tell me. Don’t tell me what’s better for me. Don’t tell me I should leave. Just tell me you don’t want me right now.”

His jaw tightened again. He didn’t answer for a long time. Then his grip on your hips got tighter. “I can’t tell you that.” The words hung between you, heavy and hot.

You slowly stepped between his spread knees. Javi tilted his head back to keep looking at you as you placed both hands on his shoulders. You gave him one more second. One last chance to pull away, push you back, or say no.

He didn’t do any of those things. Instead, his hands tightened around your waist.

You leaned down and kissed him. Not hard. Not desperate. Careful at first, almost like a question, until you felt his lips finally move against yours.

Something in him gave in. Not the pain. Not the guilt. Just that endless fight against letting anyone touch him.

When you pulled back a couple of inches, his eyes stayed closed. “Look at me,” you whispered.

He did.

You slowly slid one hand down from his shoulder. Javi watched every move, but he didn’t stop you. His breathing only got faster when your fingers reached his belt buckle. “I can still stop,” you said quietly.

Javi looked at you for a long moment, then placed one hand on the back of your neck. “Don’t.”

You didn’t wait any longer. You brought your other hand down and used both hands to undo his belt, then the button of his gray pants. Before reaching for the zipper, you looked up at him again. “I could still stop...” One last chance for him to end this. To tell you to leave.

Instead of answering, Javi slowly pressed the growing bulge beneath his pants into your palm. He lifted his hips just a little, like he was trying to tell you without words that he needed you. He really fucking did.

You didn't hesitate anymore. Your fingers slowly dragged his zipper down, painfully slow. Then you hooked your fingers into the waistband of both his pants and his boxers. “Hm.”

Javi got the message. He lifted his hips again just enough for you to pull them down beneath his ass.

You tugged both his pants and boxers down to his knees. That was all you needed.

He wasn't fully hard yet. Just half hard. The alcohol and everything that had happened that night were still getting to him.

But you knew exactly how to fix that. You spat into your palm.

Javi's breath caught the second he saw it.

Then you wrapped your wet hand around his cock. At first, you didn't even stroke him. You just slowly spread the slickness over him, running your hand from base to tip, making sure every inch of him was covered.

His stomach rose with a slow, heavy breath. His breathing got rougher. His hands found your hips again like he needed something to hold on to.

That's when you finally squeezed him. Firm. Hard enough to push every bit of the night's bullshit out of his head. You wanted him here. Right now. Feeling nothing except your hand moving around him.

You felt him getting harder in your palm. A little more. Then even more.

“There you go,” you whispered, brushing your thumb over the head of his cock, already slick with precum. Now he was exactly where you needed him.

Javi's hand suddenly came up to your neck, pulling you into a kiss. His tongue was in your mouth almost instantly, impatient, desperate, like it was the only thing he wanted right then.

You sighed into the kiss, heat pooling low in your stomach. You could already feel yourself getting wet. Still, you kept your focus on him.

While your tongue moved against his, your hand finally started stroking him for real. Long, steady strokes. Your hand slid over him once. Twice. Three times. Four.

Javi let out the quietest little moan against your mouth. You'd barely have heard it if you hadn't been this close. “I need you...” he whispered. Like he didn't even mean to say it out loud. Like part of him was still trying to fight it. But he was already too far gone.

You let go of his cock, now fully hard and ready for you. “Okay,” you whispered, barely loud enough to hear. For once, you were glad you’d worn nothing but a short skirt  in the Bogotá heat. You didn’t have to waste time taking off your pants. You just pushed your skirt up over your hips and spread your legs enough to climb onto his lap.

Javi watched you with dark eyes. One hand wrapped around the base of his cock, like he was making sure he stayed hard.

You slowly lowered yourself toward him. You could feel the heat coming off his body, and just before the head of his cock reached your folds, Javi seemed to know exactly what you needed.

With his free hand, he slipped your panties to the side. He ran a finger between your folds, making you gasp as a sharp wave of need rushed through your body.

You didn’t wait another second. You lowered yourself onto the head of his cock. Painfully slowly, you took him inside you, feeling every fucking inch as his thick cock stretched and filled you.

You both moaned as you slowly sank down around him.

Javi’s hands shot to your ass. His fingers dug into your skin as he pulled you down harder, like he couldn’t wait another second. Like he needed to be buried inside you now.

So you gave him what he wanted. You lowered yourself the rest of the way until your pussy had taken every inch of him. You grabbed his shoulders and looked at him.

Neither of you looked away as you rolled your hips and started moving.

Javi’s eyes narrowed, but they never left you. Like he needed something to focus on. Like holding your ass wasn’t enough. He needed all of his attention on you. His whole body. Even then, he let you set the pace.

You rolled your hips in slow circles, lifting yourself every now and then before sinking back down onto him again. Letting him feel your walls tighten around him. Feel your body pulling him back in. Every time you came back down, the room filled with the quiet, wet sound of your bodies coming together.

He felt huge inside you. Hot and deep enough to make your thighs shake every time you took him all the way. Javi breathed hard beneath you, every breath rough and uneven.

You could feel every muscle in his shoulders tighten beneath your hands. His chest rose faster, and when you rolled your hips again, a low, rough sound caught in his throat. “Fuck...” he muttered. It almost sounded like a warning. Or maybe he was begging you not to stop.

His hands weren’t just resting on your ass. Even though he was letting you control the pace, his fingers dug into your skin hard enough to hurt in the best way.

Every time you lowered yourself onto him, his hips lifted without him even thinking about it, pushing himself just a little deeper inside you.

You could feel his pulse racing beneath your hands where they still rested on his shoulders. You picked up the pace, rolling your hips a little faster before leaning in until your breasts were pressed against his chest.

Javi tipped his head back. For a second, his eyes fell shut. The way your pussy tightened and pulsed around his cock was getting too fucking intense. Between the alcohol still in his system and everything you were doing to him, whatever control he had left was starting to slip away.

Javi lifted his head again, looking for your face. His eyes were completely dark now, unfocused but fixed on your lips. One hand left your ass and slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. “Don’t stop,” he breathed against your mouth, his hot breath still smelling like whiskey. “Fuck... don’t let go of me.” His body started moving beneath you without thinking, his hips lifting to meet yours every time you came back down.

The change in rhythm sent a sharp wave of pleasure through your lower stomach, and your muscles tightened around him as you found the angle that brought both of you closer.

Exactly where you wanted to be.

Where he needed to be.

You sped up, settling into a hard, steady rhythm. Right then, there was nothing except your warmth and your skin. And somehow, that reached the part of him that hurt the most.

His hand slipped from the back of your neck, both hands moved to your hips, gripping you so hard you’d probably have bruises tomorrow, but you barely noticed. All you could feel was him thrusting up into you, his hips lifting every time you came back down. It was desperate. His body trying to drown out everything going on inside his head.

“Javi...” you breathed as that familiar, sharp pressure started building low in your stomach.

His eyes closed the second he heard his name. He pressed his forehead against your shoulder, buried his face in your neck, and took a deep, shaky breath.

You could feel the heat of it against your skin, mixed with sweat.

“I can’t...” he growled into your neck, his voice rough and completely wrecked. “Fuck... I can’t do this anymore.”

You didn’t know if he meant he was about to come, or the whole fucking day, Carrillo, the blood he thought he had on his hands, or the way everything around him was falling apart.

It didn’t matter. Right then, it was all the same thing.

You grabbed a fistful of the thick hair at the back of his head, pulled him even closer, and moved your hips as fast as you could. The friction was almost too much. Your walls clenched hard around his cock, sending waves of heat through your entire body.

A raw, broken sound tore out of Javi, somewhere between a growl and a sob.

Then it hit you. Your orgasm tore through your body all at once. You moaned loudly, your back arching as your body tightened around him in hard, uncontrollable pulses.

Javi felt every one of them. That tight, pulsing grip pushed him right over the edge. He sucked in a sharp breath, then came inside you with a loud, broken moan that sounded like pure relief tangled up with every bit of pain he’d been holding inside. His whole body went rigid in the chair. His hips jerked up into you, and his head fell back.

You felt every hot pulse of his release inside you. You felt him shaking from head to toe.

It went on for several long seconds, like everything was being ripped out of him all at once. Not just his cum. The anger. The helplessness. Carrillo.

And when it finally faded, Javi sagged beneath you. His grip finally loosened, and he let his head fall forward, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

He stayed there, folded into you in the chair, breathing fast and hard while the room slowly went quiet around you.

His body was no longer rigid, but you could still feel the tension sitting heavy in his shoulders. His arms stayed wrapped around your waist, though he wasn’t holding you tightly anymore. It felt more like he was hanging on, like he was afraid that the second he let go, all the shit in his head would come rushing back. 

You lifted one hand from his shoulder and ran your fingers through the hair at the back of his neck.

After a while, Javi took a deep, shaky breath. He pulled his face away from your skin and lifted his head to look at you. His eyes were half closed, his jaw still tight.

“There’s one thing you need to know,” you said quietly but firmly, your voice cutting through the heavy silence.

Javi lowered his chin a little. “No, please...” he muttered, his voice rough.

“No. Listen to me, Javi.” You took his face in your hand and made him look at you.

His dark eyes were unfocused and exhausted when they met yours.

“None of this fucked-up night was your fault,” you said slowly, making sure he heard every word. “Carrillo chose to go there. Escobar killed him. Not you. And if you’re gonna sit here blaming yourself because of some fucking tip that turned out to be a trap, when there was no fucking way anyone could’ve known, then you’re an even bigger idiot than I thought.”

Javi just stared at you for a few seconds.

You saw the old reflex kick in. The need to argue, snap at you, tell you to fuck off, or shut you out again.

His jaw tightened, his lips pressing into a thin line. But he didn’t have the energy for another fight. Whatever anger he’d had left was gone. Instead, he let out a long breath through his nose, closed his eyes, and slowly shook his head. “You’re fucking unbearable,” he muttered. His voice was low, with no sarcasm or anger behind it. He just sounded completely exhausted.

“I know,” you said softly.

Javi’s hands tightened around your hips.

He hadn’t fixed anything. He didn’t agree with you, tell you that you were right, or promise things would get better. Javi Peña didn’t work like that.

But he didn’t push you away either. He let you stay there on his lap, and he let your words sit between you. Right then, that was the most he could give you.

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