A/N:

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When you brush by Manny the first time - ignoring his, "Hey ma." He smirked up, watching you throw a cup into the sink with more force than necessary. The second time, he chuckled at your obvious attempt to get him to ask you what was wrong. When you try to brush by him for the third time his nostrils flare in annoyance, the tiny nose ring catching the light as his arm shot out quick as a rattler strike to grab your arm.

"So what? I come home an' you ain' talkin' to me?"

Home? You smack his hand away wishing you had never let him have a key to your house. "Two weeks, Manny. Two weeks." The trademark, slightly amused look on his face infuriates you even more. "Fuck off…and leave my key."

For two weeks there was no communication. For two weeks you worried thinking maybe this was the time he wouldn't come back. Your intent was to smolder in silence but the rolling rant inside your head came flying out of your mouth.

"A few days? Fine. A week? I'm not trippin' but two weeks?! You didn't call! You didn't pick up! No texts! Just nothing?! Nothing?" You were working yourself up to hysterics, hands flying, voice raised too loud to pretend you were in control of yourself. "And what could I do about it? What could I know?" He let you shove him in the chest, and you are so far gone at this point you missed the wince that flashes across his face.

"They get to send you out and then tell me to sit tight?! Have another drink! Relax! Don't worry so much! Don't worry so much?!" You were practically screaming now. "And Bishop patting me on the goddamn head like a toddler?!" Manny's eyes roamed the room while you spun yourself out, "I can't do this part! I thought I could but I can't!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, mami. Take a breath, aight." He'd had heard enough. His tone was soft and soothing but the grip he had on your arm was meant to keep you planted where you were.

He tugged you to him, the hardness of his chest, the smell of him under the coating of sweat and dust, chipping away at the wall of hurt you were working so hard to keep up. With a hand on the back of your neck, he releases a deep breath, curling you into him, holding you now.

"You know I was workin'." His thumb's gentle strokes on your neck were out of place in the argument you were trying to have.

No. "Stop." Reaching back, you physically take his hand off of your neck. "Stop! Get out,N Manny." Tears swam in your eyes, filling up and spilling over the sides while you try to pull away. "Just go."

"You got scared that's all, bella." His voice, the calmest sound you have ever heard, stops your struggle. Leaning back to look at him, you see the tiredness in his eyes, the remorse and then your glance goes to the hand coming back up to stroke your face and the red, torn skin on his wrist. Snatching his hand, you shove his sleeve up and see more marks. He lets you grab his other arm for inspection. Rope burns?

Your brain can't process what's in front of you. Your soaring anxiety is quickly turning your arms numb, spreading to your shoulder and one side of your jaw. Your shaky hands are yanking off his sweatshirt, lifting up his t-shirt; turning him to see his back and losing count of all the scratches and cuts and bruises. Manny held his arms up halfway, allowing you this opportunity to manhandle him, wincing, "Easy, girl. Damn."

You know you can't ask what happened to him, your entire face is tingling from the encroaching panic attack. Two weeks. Your eyes fill with tears again. Two weeks. He was out there being hurt by god knows who for god knows why…for two weeks?

You had smiled through stitches, held his hand while they removed a bullet from his shoulder, and scrubbed away bloodstains that weren't his... but this? Your breathing is fast and shallow, dizziness is playing on the edges of your body. He can see it happening and places his hands on your hips to ground you. "Look at me. Look at me."

His eyes bore into yours, "What'd you tell me, huh? You said if you're gonna be bad, at least be a little good while you're at it. Ain't that what you said?"

You take two steadying breaths before you nod. "I got into a little trouble," he shrugged like it was nothing. Like the marks on his body were of little consequence. "I'm good at what I do, mami. That's how I come back to you."

Cupping your face, he draws you up almost on your toes to murmur against your lips, "Don't you know I got nine lives?"

"I can't…,"

Manny shakes his head and kisses you into silence. Ignoring the outcry of his injuries, he picks you up and carries you to the bedroom. For a moment you wrap yourself up in him, letting his strength calm your wild emotions then a pang of shame stops your heart and he freezes seeing it at the same time. Preparing for the worst, you had started packing up a box of his things and it sat in the middle of the bedroom floor where you left it this morning. Shit.

He put you down gently, letting your feet touch the floor but not releasing you, still staring at the box and then at you. He could have gotten mad. He could have started an argument…but this was Manny and he was about to fight for you the best way he knew how. Cupping your face in his hands he kissed you. Slowly, methodically, systematically - a honeyed coaxing designed to make you forget, to make you forgive every wrong he had done and every one he had yet to. Lips and teeth and tongue - brushing, nipping, savoring - not letting you breathe, least of all speak. His seductive mix targets the tender skin on your neck, and the sensitive tips of your earlobes, commencing in sucking on your tongue, clouding your mind and washing your body in heat, allowing him to remove pieces of your clothing without you even being aware of it.

Manny, perceptive as any psychologist, felt your body tense as your back hit the mattress, devouring your mouth until you relax again. Until the slide of his lips across your collarbone is as powerful a sensation as his thigh pressing between your legs.

"You know you missed me, mami. Can't you show me how much?"

You want him. You want to make the last two weeks fade away. But the fear is hovering around your consciousness like a fly, buzzing, distracting you.

"No?" Manny tilted his head to the side, a slow smirk spreading on his face "Well, I missed you. I missed this right here…laying with you." The way his eyes search yours makes you feel splayed open wide for him to see everything, every thought, every secret.

"And this." The kisses he trails down your stomach made you press your legs together on the pounding pulse intensifying there. His lips brush the top of your thigh as he speaks, sending shivers all over you, "And I missed my girl right here." Slipping a single fingertip in the side of your panties, brushing the sparse hairs there, placing calculated bites. The muscles in your abdomen twitch giving you away.

Manny's fingers began a slow exploration, "You wanna come, baby?"

"Yes." The word rushes out of you with a gasp.

"You gonna be nice to me or pack my shit?" With eyes dancing, he licks his fingers and sends them back between your legs, merely ghosting over your clit.

"Please."

"Answer me." Biting the side of your neck hard, he plunges two slim fingers inside you, whispering low and raspy over your mewling whimpers, "Don't make me punish you. Beg for it, darlin'."

"Nice! Yes!"

Your wail has him pushing you toward your orgasm with devastating precision. Looking at him, your eyes wander to the bruised flesh on his chest. Remembering wrists rubbed raw, your heart rips in two. You love him so much but the level of fear you felt for his safety crushed you. Every day without answers destroyed you, the memory overriding your pleasure.

"Where'd you go, mami?" Manny was alert and staring down into your eyes.

"I'm okay," you rush to say, but he's not fooled. Working your hips against his hand, you plead, "I am, baby."

Naw," he spoke quietly but the intensity was not to be missed. Taking his hand away, he moves to hover over your body his eyes finally flashing anger. "I cain't rock like that. You ain't hidin' from me. And you definitely ain't makin' the calls here."

You swallow, his skin is silk sliding over you a delicious contrast to the hard edges of his life. Lost in the beauty of his dark eyes, even as they frown at you. "You tell me you done with me an' I'm just supposed to be okay with that shit?" Settling himself between your legs, he continued, "Pssh! I ain't hearin' that. Where imma go, baby? I'm home."

Never breaking eye contact, Manny slides inside you on one slick thrust, his hips and ass clenched tight in an attempt to touch your back wall on the first shot. "Mmmm…this shit right here is my home."

His eyelids dip from the sheer intensity of your hot grip on his dick and reopen slowly. With your breath caught in your throat, he remains pressed deep, holding on tightly to his self-control, his voice a growl, "Recuerda, eres mi mujer." (Remember, you are my woman.)

As soon as he begins to move your eyes flutter closed, his slow strokes freeing you of every negative thought, your hands gripping low on his waist, your thighs parting even more in acceptance of his homecoming. He raises up on one arm to reach down and bring your leg up to his shoulder, diving deeper. Picking up the pace quickly, his own need blending in with his desire to please you pushes him, taking over. The gasping moans dragging out of you tells him all he needs to know. You need him.

"Mio, mio" he grunts into your neck, slamming into you harder. (Mine, mine.) Drowning in the pleasure that only Manny brings, he skillfully twists his hips on the down stroke to hit every spot inside of you that lights you up. You rise up to meet him, drawing him deeper, bringing an arrogant curl to his lips, "Yeah, like that, mami. Oh shit, baby, just like that."

You cry out when his head drops low to fasten his lips on your nipple. His rhythmic sucking and tongue laving over it, sending jolts of pure bliss straight to your parted place, releasing new waves of slick moisture coating his thick dick pumping in and out, working you to the point of insanity. His already ragged breathing turns to pants along with yours as he applies bites to your neck with his fist full of your hair. Your cries for more urge him on, your pleas turning explosive as you climb toward your peak.

"Fuck!"

There's a salacious thrill in seeing Manny losing control. His normally smooth, purposeful strokes are now an unfamiliar, inconceivably pleasurable flurry of thrusts hurdling both of you toward the sweetest reward. He slowed down only to slip his hand between you finding your perfect, tight bundle of nerves, hell-bent on destroying your nervous system. His fast circles send you into convulsions instantly - your climax ripping through you before you can prepare yourself or cry out in warning to him. Gripping his arms frantically, you scream his name loud and long, with a hitching sob at the end.

He survived your undoing for three strokes longer - three was all he could take once your walls slammed down on him, milking him. Three more before surrendering to your drenched tunnel's siren song that launched him viciously over the edge into full body contractions, burying his face into your neck to muffle his tight, throaty cries as his cum splashed your walls, hot and thick.

You forgot all about the punishment his body had taken, the time that has passed. Clutching him to you, wrapping your legs around him, you don't want to miss a single spasm or sound or breath.

He was yours. He was safe. And he was home again…with you.

- fin -