Heat

by ROGUEFURY

You don't expect to be pulled into a heated gravitation with Agent Javier Peña, and the more you both try to navigate your lives around each other, the clearer it becomes that your feelings go beyond the torrid desires you both are able to ignite in each other. Will the heat of your passions win out against the tribulations that threaten to pull you apart?

3. Chapter 3: Solterita

Warning: Graphic sexual descriptions, lots of smut, longing, lust, and a pinch of angst.

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Chapter 3: Solterita

Javier proves to be passionate and insatiable, both things you are riveted by and taken with, especially after he keeps you enraptured in your bed for hours while the storm rages on late into the night.

He's also ravenous, and not just in bed.

When you're not fooling around, he's eating you out of house and home, puckishly swigging the last of your beer while he lounges next to you in bed, eyes twinkling at you.

You're not even mad. If anything you're a bit embarrassed to only have dregs in the fridge, beer and junk food your meager offerings. You both share a Solterita, having cajoled Javi to try it when he admitted to never having the treat. His rueful smile when he hums in delight is too damned cute, and you have to remind yourself that you cannot be smitten with him. Of course you tell that part of you to shut up and just bask in the moment, especially when he puts his arm around you and lets you relax while you idly chat.

Once you've shut off the lights, you both get under the covers, and before you can roll over, Javier is feeling you up, pulling you close and murmuring, "You're my solterita."

You snicker at the double entendre – of being his sweet treat and his single gal – and kiss him, tasting the tangy orange zest from the cookies on his lips and flavoring his tongue as you curl against him and hum into his mouth.

One more carnal romp later and you're both tangled in the sheets, panting and sighing in contentment. His hands are still clasped in yours into the pillows when he leans and presses his forehead against yours while he regains his breath. You squeeze them affectionately, which reminds him he's still pressing your arms down so he unlatches his hands and caresses them down your body. Once he's settled back under the sheets with you, he spoons up behind your form and holds you against him, fingertips drawing lazy circles along your lithe belly while he nuzzles your neck and begins to doze off.

At some point you fall asleep too, but occasionally stir when he moves against you, or when his adorable snore rumbles lightly against the back of your neck. When you wake next, you've both moved positions in bed, and you're now spooning Javi. Your arm is slung around his waist, and while you're sure it makes for a silly scene, you feel yourself melt as the tension eases from his back when you press a kiss to it and lay your cheek against it.

It's a few minutes before your alarm is set to go off when you wake again, and Javier is still in your bed, sleeping on his stomach while you've pressed up against him and slept with your head resting over his deltoid while your arm in draped across his lats. His breathing is deep, calm, and for the life of you, you could stay like this forever with him but instead you decide not to stir him as you carefully maneuver away. You silently switch the alarm off so it doesn't blare, grab up a change of work clothes, and sneak out of your room.

Once down the hall and in the bathroom, you go through your normal routine. You shower quickly, warm water heating your skin soothing, making you realize how sore your muscles are. Your thighs ache in the best way, the dull throb in your core making you smile into the water as it rains down your head. Once you're in front of the mirror over the sink, though, you're balking almost comically at the 'stash burn Javi's left on the side of your neck, just visible enough once you've combed your hair. It doesn't hurt, but looks a bit prickly, arcing red. Flushing, you hurriedly get dressed and toil with ways to conceal it, realizing the makeup you're dabbing on is no help at all, so you relent and decide to wear your hair down. A few massages of argan oil drops in the thick length, and you brush it over that shoulder to hide the side of your neck and tiptoe to the bedroom.

Javi is passed out still, and you just don't have the heart to wake him up. You sneak back down the hall and rush through grabbing up your discarded clothes from the night before and tidy up as best you can before glancing at the clock and realizing you spent way too long getting ready. Depositing things in the hamper before tiptoeing back into your room to get your shoes, you realize Javier's shirt is a raggedy mess, all rumpled and wrung out. You think fast – pilfer the pile of clean clothes in the basket to pull out something you think should fit him. Despite yourself, you smile, wishing you could see the look on his face when he sees what you've set out for him instead of the rumpled mess you leave tossed aside.

You barely make it to the embassy in time for your early morning staff meeting, having had to skip getting your favorite coffee to be able to breeze into the conference room without a minute to spare. Ellis is bouncing his eyebrows goofily at you from across the room, and you just roll your eyes. You half-listen to the meeting, only gathering that security were on high alert around the city due to the political strife and acrimony kicking up from the lawlessness of the cartels. You're picturing Javi on his back while you rode his cock last night, how he looked when he came, and the only thing that's able to snap you back to the meeting is the mention of Pablo Escobar and the Medellín Cartel; the warning that reprisals against government officials was a serious concern, so to restrict any unnecessary travel to regions known for cartel violence.

"Scary stuff! Damn narcos runnin' amuck out here," Ellis chortles as you both walk down to your department.

"You and Anita still going to Medellín this weekend?" you ask, making conversation.

While Ellis answers, you keep thinking of him, and you struggle to do anything but for most of the morning.

Meanwhile, just as you're redoing another spreadsheet you've messed up twice now, Javi is stretching sleepily on your bed and yawning into your pillow as he reaches for you and comes up empty. Grumbling, he rolls towards the side of the bed you were at and blearily glances around, forcing his hearing to strain for any indication of where you are. Then he sees the time on the alarm clock. "Shit," he mutters and sits up in bed, gaze swiveling around as he notices the subtle changes in the room. His clothes are folded and left on your dresser, and the sunshine is trying to peer into the room from the slats of the windows.

It takes a few beats to dawn on him. You snuck out to work and left him to sleep. The stealthy talent required to do such a thing impresses him as he reaches for his cigarettes and lights one before he stands and stretches the kinks out of his back. He's feeling mellow, good, as he smokes and heads over to grab his still slightly damp jeans, pulling them on and not even getting peeved that he'd have to wear them back to his place. Once he zipped up though, he realizes his shirt is completely fucked and is about to frown when he notices the t-shirt you've left under his folded belt.

On you, it's an oversized tent you can sleep in merrily, but on Javier Peña? The soft t-shirt isn't even long enough to be tucked into his jeans, not that he would once he's looked at himself in the mirror. Wearing the Gun 'N Roses band shirt with the logo emblazoned loudly on the chest, Javi huffs wryly and finishes his cigarette while he decides to get some payback on you by doing some snooping.

You're a clean and neat person, room appointed accordingly save for the basket still full of unfolded laundry in the corner. He puts out his cigarette and decides to clean up after himself, depositing the discarded buds and ash from the glass dish into the wastebasket and pulling the bag out to be tossed in the trash. Before he goes to do so, however, he notices the still ajar drawer of your nightstand. He pulls it open to peek in and see how many condoms you have left in the ceramic bowl when he catches the glint of a metal barrel.

Blinking at the sight, Javi reaches in and pulls out the Junior Colt, inspecting it. The safety is on, and it looks like it hasn't been fired, ever. In his hands, it looks petite and silly, but he pictures it in your grip, how your delicate fingers would wrap around it. He puts the gun back as it was and closes the drawer, grunting at himself.

Once he's tossed the wastebasket bag in the trash, he goes into your fridge and scowls. He grabs the juice carton and drinks directly from it, emptying it in several gulps before he tosses it to the trash as well. "Note to self: gotta go shopping later…" he mutters to himself as he lopes into the living room and sees you tidied up. He notices the potted plants on the table below the windows for the first time, cataloguing that you must have a bit of a green thumb, seeing how lush the leaves and pretty the flowers sit.

When he grabs his boots and socks, and sits on the chair adjacent to the couch to start putting the soggy things on, he notices something misplaced under the couch. Reaching over and snagging it, Javi can't help smirk. He raises the delicately sullied garment to his nose and inhales your scent, feeling blood rush down his body at the recall it triggers in him.

Panties tucked into his rear jean pocket, Javi secures his gun to the back of his waistband and grabs his jacket, pulling it on to conceal his weapon before he grabs his cigarettes and wallet from your bedroom and hustles out the door. The courtyard smells fresh and dewy from the storm as he saunters down the stairs and strolls at a brisk pace down the walkway leading out of the apartment complex. He goes to check his watch, and realizes he never even put it on before going out to wander the day before. As he goes, he passes a mature woman who's tending to her little patio garden and turns to watch him go. He notices that the tenants that are up and about are older, and decides to store the quirky detail away for later questioning.

He manages to flag a cab in the rush hour traffic and uses the ride to think about you. Did you not think you could wake him? Or were you so set on keeping any association between you both vague that you didn't want to chance being seen coming to the consulate complex together? Is this how it feels to do the walk of shame? He doesn't feel ashamed at all, so he grunts, feeling silly ruminating such curiosities when he's driven down the avenue and past the bustling coffee shop from yesterday, seeing the line out the door. Javier grunts to himself, and doubts you were able to get your fix. He thinks about how lovely you looked while smiling across him over your favorite cup of coffee.

Soon after, he's getting out of the cab before it's even finished coming to a stop in front of his apartment, paying the driver through the open window before rushing to take the steps up to the entrance door two at a time while he fishes his keys out of his jacket pocket.

Javier is stalking down the hall towards his apartment door, absently wondering if you'd ever want to come over to his place. Just as he's about to key into the lock, Steve's trudging down the steps at a gallop to bug him.

"Jesus, man. Where the hell are you coming from? You know we're late," the sardonic drawl echoes, and Javi ignores him as he unlocks his door. "You look like you slept in a gutter—"

"That's no way to refer to your sister's bed, Steve," Javier deadpans as he goes into his apartment.

"Fuck off, and just hurry up—" Steve's bark is cut by Javier slamming the door behind him as he rushes to do just that – get ready for a DEA-rrific day.

While the two plain clothes DEA agents saunter into their department for a turbulent week of strife ahead not more than half hour later, you're dragging through your morning, dying to do anything but stare at your computer. Even the glasses you wear to combat the eyestrain are no match for a coffee-empty system. You're so dazed that you almost forget about concealing your neck before you snap out of it and adjust your long hair to be swept back into place.

When you're coming back from lunch with Ellis, who is trying to convince you to come over for dinner and cards later as you both waltz over to your area – the droning of calls and frenetic typing an ambient buzz neither of you notice anymore – you're just about tempted to go try the terrible coffee in the break room when Ellis whistles next to you.

"Hah, you're grumpier than usual," he teases as he nudges you with his shoulder. "Does someone have a case of the Mon—?"

"Ellis, I will strangle you with your own necktie if you finish saying that," you threaten flatly, suppressing a yawn. "I just overslept. Not a great way to start the week," you lie smoothly as you turn down the path to your desks. After all, you started the week splendidly by being ravished all night by Javier Peña. But easygoing Ellis does not need to know that and become scandalized – and eager for details – from you telling him of the encounter. But you don't need to pretend you're not exhausted. It's not his fault you want to crawl under your desk and sleep your Javi hangover off, though. You're about to deflect and ask him about his weekend when you near your shared work spaces.

"Well looks like someone took pity on you and got you a coffee," Ellis muses as he goes to his desk and settles back in to where he left off in his work.

You blink at your desk, perplexed. Sitting next to your phone is a cup with a very familiar logo on it. You'd be sure you were seeing a mirage had Ellis not acknowledged its existence first. Bemused, you drop your purse into its place on your desk and pick up the coffee cup, feeling the liquid inside still warm. You crack the lid off and breathe in the comforting scent. It's the real deal!

Glancing around, you are perplexed, until that little giddy voice pipes merrily: Javier got us coffee, dopey!

The tide of gratified glee rises in you before you are able to quell it with your anger. Sitting in your desk chair, you glower, but mechanically bring the rim to your lips and drink the coffee. So fucking good…

Nope! Wait a minute. Javier Muthafucking Peña came down here and put a cup of your favorite coffee on your desk? Even after you've all but threatened to castrate him for even daring something like this? Oh, you are appalled…kind of. The more you drink the coffee, the more fond you become as the savory brew triggers your recall of yesterday.

You're stuck in a loop of reminiscence by the time you get home. The autopilot ingrained in you has you traversing the courtyard so you can pine over how ridiculously covert Javier must've been in delivering the coffee without being seen by a soul. Because he sure wasn't – you'd asked around to see if anyone noticed who'd left you the coffee – having evaded even the squad of building staff you could always count on for the scoop.

You almost jump when your neighbor calls out in greeting before you've reached the stairs. Smiling sheepishly, you return the hello and are about to keep going when she blithely mentions, "Ese hombre era guapísimo."

This is the tradeoff of living in a complex filled with mostly middle-aged retirees. They notice it all. There's no point even feigning ignorance, so you smile and wink at her. "Lo sé. Pero no se lo diga si lo ve otra vez," you snicker, earning an amused chuckle from the older woman as she waves goodbye and makes a note to indeed not mention to the tall stud just how handsome he is if he comes around again.

But would you see Javi again? It didn't come up…you didn't discuss it at all while you'd lain in bed together.

The ruminating keeps you occupied as you breeze into your apartment and close the door after you. You glance at your reflection in the oval mirror after you dump your purse and keys at the table beneath it, lips pressing together at the sight. Your ruse with your hair worked well enough, and thankfully the course of the day seems to have been enough time for the raised mark to dissipate substantially. You pull your hair up into a messy bun and go about tugging your blouse free and off your head before you've even made it down the hall to your bedroom.

The phone rings, and you groan as it forces you to turn on your heel back the way you came. You pick up the receiver from its mount and answer a little too wearily. "Hello?"

"Jeez, you sound grumpier than ever!" Ellis remarks, and you grumble while you wipe the makeup on your neck off gently with the pad of your thumb before pulling your long bangs free and combing through them idly as you listen. "You ran out of work before I could ask if you're sure you don't want to come over for dinner tonight? Anita is cooking her specialty—"

"I appreciate the invite, but I'm just a little off today," you retort and fidget with the zipper of your skirt, working it down with one hand as you add, "Rain check?"

"Sure thing. Feel better, kid! See yah tomorrow," the impossibly affable man from Tallahassee chimes. "Have a good night!"

You roll your eyes and smile. "Goodnight." Phone hung up, you toss your shed blouse and skirt into the hamper with the pile of clothes from last night before sauntering down the hall to your bedroom, kicking off your flats and grabbing the rumpled shirt from the floor. The room is tidy save for the bed. You go slide the laundry basket with your foot to the bed before going about putting another bag into the wastebasket, intrigued to find it empty. You're not even mad that Javi didn't make the bed, figuring he probably overslept and had to run out of here. Should you've woken him?

Distractedly, you're thinking of doing another load of laundry – deliberating whether you should yank the sheets off and toss them to the growing pile when you hear three loud knocks at your door. Grunting, you rush to grab something to throw on. "¡Un momento!" you shout down the hall as you pull the snug plain-t on and shimmy into a pair of jean shorts you pulled free from the clean load in the basket.

Sprinting down the hall, you toss the rumpled shirt into the hamper and make it to the door, opening it and expecting another well-meaning-yet-nosy neighbor.

Instead, a completely unabashed Javier Peña greets you on your doorstep. He looks fresh as a sexy daisy standing there – wearing a green button-up that's tucked into a trademark pair of jeans, a different jacket on from last night, but that ridiculously handsome smile is still the same. Your brain is on delay as you realize he's standing there with two large brown paper bags of what looks like groceries balanced in each arm.

Javier gives you an appreciative once over, admiring how snug the shirt is – how it molds deliciously to your tits and causes the lace of your bra to press up against the soft material – and how tight the shorts look, accentuating your hips and making your supple legs look fantastic.

"Eh…what," you attempt before recovering your cool façade to stare up at him inquisitively.

That being enough of a greeting for him, Javier breezes into your apartment and carries the bags to your kitchen island while you watch him go. "Just picked up a few things," he replies as if that is enough of an explanation. You close the door and pad over to gape at him. "I wasn't sure what kind of rum you drink, so I just picked one I've heard of," Javier offers as he begins to un-bag the groceries and pulls out the aforementioned bottle of Bacardi, along with a bottle of his favorite whiskey.

You stare at the two liquor bottles before crossing your arms and leaning your weight onto one hip. "Wait…you went shopping? Who said you could go shopping for me—?"

"Us, and I figured it was a one-man job and I didn't need a partner-in-crime. Christ knows I need a break from Murphy tagging along everywhere," Javi muses as he reaches into one of the bags and pulls out something before holding it out for you. "And thanks, I guess, for this."

You snatch your Guns 'N Roses shirt from him and grin. "It's the only thing I thought would fit you, smartass," you grumble sardonically and fight to sober your expression as you gripe, "And you're letting me pay you for all this stuff—"

Javier grunts and seamlessly stores a carton of juice, 6-pack and some other items into your fridge before he kicks it closed and leans his hip against the island's counter. "I fucking cleaned out your fridge last night, so you're gonna let me refill it and not get all bossy with me about it, sound good?" he mutters acerbically and arches a brow, crossing his arms in challenge. His coffee-brewed gaze betrays him, though, and you can't help ruefully purse your lips at that.

"Huh…alright, tough guy," you relent, albeit deviously as you shrug and toss the shirt onto the counter when you sidle up next to him and bump your hip into him as you reach into one of the bags. "What else did your presumptuous self pick up?" you chime, feeling Javi stiffen as you press the side of your hip into him and linger close.

He can smell your hair; feel the warmth of the side of your arm as it grazes his chest from your rummaging into the bag to pull out a pack of cigarettes, an ashtray, and several boxes of condoms. Flummoxed for a second, you surprise him by laughing – a melodious sound that melts into a discordant sigh he finds entrancingly sexy, shaking your head before placing everything on the counter like it's evidence against him.

"I see you picked up the essentials," you quip before pointedly slinking closer to pull over the other bag and rummage through it. It's got toiletries, and you blink at the sight before you notice a folded change of clothes – his clothes – at the bottom of the bag, below the personal hygiene items.

He's watching you, the intrigue winding in him, anticipating a reaction, but not sure what he'll get. You sense it, and feel a bit befuddled. Is this something to read into at all? Does he want you to? Javi doesn't strike you as the shy type, but neither does he strike you as monogamous. You are certainly single, but you're not a fool. Who knows how many women he's got – that he sees and sleeps with, casual or not. Is he provoking you to be the first to broach the subject? To press: What is this? What're we doing here?

You glance up at him as you set the bag aside before you turn to face him. The gleam in your eyes is one he can't read, and when you flick down to glance at his lips, he feels something primal sing in his blood. From this close, with you tilting your head in this way and with your hair pulled up, he finally catches the faint mark on your neck. His fingers are reaching up to brush it before he's checked the impulse. "Hmph, shit," he grumbles as he tenderly touches the side of your neck. "I'll be more careful," he mumbles and looks into your eyes as he worries the inside of his lower lip between his teeth.

You grab his hand before his fingers can recede and hold him in place as you defiantly smirk and pose, "As careful as you were leaving the coffee on my desk?"

He huffs his exhale and can't help want to challenge you – prod you on why that would be the end of the world; to be seen with him, but he's not a fool. You'd told him the first time you'd kissed, when he had you pressed up against the wall and on the edge of his fingers, and you'd rebuffed him.

Still, he wants to push, to rile you a bit, so he puts his hands on his hips as he looms back, eyeing you sharply before drawling tersely, "You don't give an inch, do you?"

Amused, you lean close, trailing your fingers up his chest to fiddle with a button below his collarbones as you declare simply: "I gave a lot of inches last night. Let you have all the inches you wanted…"

The way Javi's expression morphs from rueful terseness to raw enticement has heat tingling between your thighs, and you know he's turned on when you let him pull you against him so he can claim your lips with his.

Javier can't get over how hard you get him from just a glance and daring quip. It's something he knows he needs to work up a resistance to, because holy shit, he'll be in trouble if you can have this power over him otherwise.

You hum, deepening the kiss as Javi crowds you against the island and squeezes your ass covetously while you arch your pelvis into his and chase the ridge of his hard-on as it presses against denim. You get lost in it, not caring to discuss a definition of intent on what's going on between you. The heat of his body, his spiced and musky scent, and the feel of his want for you, has you preening for more of the sunburst-like passion he gives you so freely, proudly.

The kiss is only broken by the telltale sound of scratching coming from the balcony door, which causes Javier to reel back and glance around. You snicker and affectionately nudge him to step back while he asks, "What the hell is that?"

"Just a neighbor," you jibe and walk over to the balcony doors. Once you open one, an adorable black cat sits to stare up at you, meow of greeting accompanied by her rounding your legs. "Ah, mira quien es. Where'd you ride out the storm, señorita," you muse and pet her head before going back to the kitchen.

Javier is actually scowling as he watches the cat round the island and follow you into the kitchen. "You have a cat?" he asks, but there's a hint of charge in his tone, as if you've kept something from him.

"No, she's just the friendly neighborhood cat. She earns her keep around the complex, so everyone who lives here looks out for her; feeds her and lets her crash wherever she decides to lay up," you explain as you retrieve a can of tuna and empty it's contents into a dish you set aside out on the balcony for her. The green-eyed lady runs over and eats her fill while you follow with a water dish. "What, you got a problem with cats?" you inquire, hands on your hips as you turn and watch him half shrug before he takes his jacket off and tugs his hidden piece from the back of his waistband to place it out of the way on the counter.

He tosses the jacket to the back of a nearby chair before he lopes over and encircles his arms charmingly around your waist. "Dangerous business, being a cat in this country," he jokes, and you just give him a goofy look. "Never mind, it's from something that happened with Steve," he brushes off and nuzzles your temple while you grunt and wrap your arms around his shoulders. "I'm starving—"

"What if I'd had plans tonight? Did you think I was, what – just perpetually available?" you suddenly pose, hands at his nape idly massaging a tender spot there and earning a grunt from him. He leans back and just gives you a smoldering look. "Javier—"

"Javi," he corrects and kisses your lips. "I just…hoped you were free," he remarks and pulls you over to sit on the couch. "If I've worn out my welcome—"

You interrupt him by huffing when he purposely sits you on his lap instead of next to him on the couch. Everything in you is simmering with the impulse to pepper him with questions, but you're not going to give into it. You want Javier Peña to work for the affection and pining that is clearly so freely thrown at him, for once. To earn the infatuation he's usually showered with from ramera and non-working-girl alike without conceding anything in return. At least that's what you tell yourself, making a host of assumptions. It's what you have to work with, after all, seeing how you refuse to fall into this trap.

"Until I get to the market so I can really food shop, we'll have to make do with a place that delivers," you reply instead, and reach to the side table where you store the takeout restaurant menus from around town. The maneuver presses Javi further into the back of the couch and forces you to slightly wriggle in his lap, which has him straining against your ass. "Chinese? It's the closest," you innocently muse and hold the menu up, but Javier's not interested in it.

"Is it…decent?" he asks distractedly, hand at your hip guiding you in his rutting undulations up into your jean-covered crotch.

You have to stifle a starved sound as he presses up right at the juncture of your shorts that is flush with your clit. "N-Not as good as New York or Puerto Rican Chinese food…but it's good," you simper softly, and are just about to let him pull you backwards into his arms so you both can get carried away in the grinding foreplay when the black cat suddenly leaps on the side table and jumps to walk along the spine of the couch. Javier recoils awkwardly and ends up jamming your tailbone hard against his pelvis, and he grunts a hiss. "No, pa'bajo," you chastise and point down to the floor, and the cat obeys, hopping down and waltzing out to the balcony before jumping up on the banister to perch and let the breeze lull her into a doze.

Javier is grumbling under his breath about meddling fuzz balls when you snicker and get up from his lap before he can pull you back down. "Querida—" he begins, but you have the menu in your hand and wave it at him. He huffs and flops back against the couch, dark eyes searing with promise as he watches you flounce to the phone. "I'll have whatever you get. I'm not picky," he sighs and is tempted to go for his cigarettes, but spots the boombox stereo tucked out of the way by the side table and decides to peruse your music cassette tastes.

You suppress the urge to blurt 'So I've heard,' as you dial the delivery number. Before long, they're at the door with your food, and just as you turn back from grabbing your wallet out of your purse, Javier is at the door paying the deliveryman and taking the food.

"You're a guest, Javier—" you start to reproach after you shut the door and follow him to the kitchen where he's unpacking the food.

"Why don't you call me Javi? I mean, outside of sex—" he begins goadingly, and trails off when you scoff and busy yourself getting cutlery and plates from the drawer and cabinet just behind him. "And don't give me that excuse again – about not being into using nicknames," he presses, but is affable as he turns and takes the plates from you so he can start filling them with food from the different containers.

You sigh dramatically, which he finds delightful and pivots to watch you set the table with the cutlery and glasses before you rush back and go to take the plates, but he holds them firm in his grip. You look up into his eyes and see he won't drop it until you answer, so you roll your eyes and waltz away as you gesture with your hands dismissively and grumble, "¡Eso es de nenas!" as if that explains it perfectly.

He chuckles and takes the plates to the table, setting them down before he hooks his hand in the back pocket of your shorts and reels you over to him as he sits in one of the chairs and pulls you onto his thigh. "Well, you're a girl, aren't you?" he teases, watching as your plush lips purse ruefully at him.

"De nenas as in little girls, atrevido," you counter and adjust to get comfortable on his thigh as he pillows your back with his arm. "I feel silly referring to you like that," you lie, boldfaced and practiced. "Javier is your name, so that's what I'll refer to you by, chavón," you muse as an aside, smirking when you huffs at the nickname; slang for pain or pesterer.

You hope Javi can't see it – that he doesn't have the training to spot when you're lying. After all, it's more of an untruth than anything. Your aversion to it is actually simple. You hate the thought that other women call him Javi, and can't bear to be part of the harem. It's not your fault that he can fuck you so good that you end up dissolving into whimpers of 'Javi-Javi-Javi!' when in the throes of passion.

Leaning back in his chair, his hand idly caresses your thigh as he exhales. "My mother called me Javier," he suddenly blurts thoughtfully, drawing you back to his pensive glance before he smiles.

His gaze is faraway though, so you cool, previous temper stowed so you can kiss him and drawl, "What every woman wants to hear – that they remind you of your mother."

He laughs, warm and indulgent as he lets you slink off his lap and sit in the adjacent chair. Dinner is spent chatting and when you have your fill, you both have a drink, content in the easygoing mood that's settled between you. You leave the dishes to soak in the sink and walk back to catch Javi begrudgingly petting the cat's head as he stands on the balcony and smokes. You grin when he turns and sees he got caught, and before you can gloat, he's striding over and encircling your waist with one arm while he puts the cigarette out in the ashtray he brought over.

"Can I have a solterita?" he murmurs, hand slipping into your back pocket to greedily squeeze your ass as he nuzzles your neck – careful not to leave any marks this time.

He's causing your resolve to fizzle, distracting you with his scent and warmth as he presses his hips against yours. "T-There's some in the cabinet—" you begin when it dawns on you that he was not referring to the cookie when he slips a hand up your shirt and touches your breast over your bra. "Hah, beyako," you giggle and slap his hand down, flirty smile brilliant as you slink away and close the balcony doors. "This solterita is not as sweet, though," you quip, lopsided smirk endearing as you walk back and purposely saunter past him to head down the hallway to your room.

Javi is following and herding you up against the wall in the hall before you can feign demureness. You knew what you were doing. He sees it in your eyes when they flicker up at him before you pull him close and meet his hungry kiss. His mouth is smoky and tart, and you hum into it when your tongues duel for dominance. He wins out when he seats his hand between your thighs and cups your crotch to rub you into a tizzy over your clothes. You gasp and part from the kiss, arching against the wall and gripping the back of his shirt as he nuzzles your neck.

"I've been thinking about how good you taste all day," he murmurs in a husk before dragging his other hand from your ass around to start working with the other to pull your shorts open. "Been wanting it. So warm and sweet for me," he mumbles hotly as he yanks your shorts and panties down your thighs before he lowers to kneel at your feet.

Your gasp of excitement hiccups in your chest when Javier tugs the tangle of clothes from your ankles so you can spread your legs to him. Naked from the waist down, you're trembling and meek now, flustered as you press up against the wall while he's fully clothed and on his knees with a view of how wet and eager you are for him after just teasing kisses. "Javier—" you begin, but exhale a thrilling sound when he grips your thighs and holds you in place as he nuzzles you between them.

He kisses your mound before nudging an open mouth caress over your pussy and moans against you when you bury a hand in his hair and tug. Javier buckles to his shins so he can slot his mouth perfectly at your cunt, lips pressing a kiss over the hood of your clit before he traces your seam with his tongue in a languid lick. His wickedly talented flicks have you whimpering in delight to the point that you press the back of a hand to your mouth to stifle your sounds while you let him guide your pelvis to glide you over his tongue. Vibrating his groan against your drenching flesh, Javi glances up at you and sees you're flushed and smothering your whimpers, so he squeezes your hip and presses a lewd kiss to your mound. "I wanna hear you, hermosa," he grouses, tone syrupy until he gravels, "I wanna hear you when you come on my tongue."

You're practically buzzing from that, and your next whimper is unimpeded as you get on your tippy toes and present your tingling pussy to him. "Please, Javi—" you keen, tone reedy, incandescent.

He's gratified to see you so needy for him, gets punch-drunk from it and hooks a leg over his shoulder so he can gluttonously devour you now, warm swipe of his tongue parting your soaked folds so it can flick against your tight slit before he plunges up to fuck you with it. The sound you make has Javi's cock throbbing, and he can feel it dripping with pre-cum already as it presses against the denim. The friction of it has him hissing, but he denies himself until he's drunk from your chalice and undone you with his devotion.

The hand in his hair tightens when you feel yourself careening up towards a blistering orgasm, hips jerking from the effort of not letting yourself buck against his mouth. You can't hold back though, not when he draws his tongue in a pattern of pressure and flicks at your pulsing clitoris, humming against the pearled bud and driving your mewling cries into a fever pitch as you chase his mouth with your cradling pelvis, so close to the edge. "Javi—mmmph! I'm g-gonna—" you begin to keen, eyes squeezing shut as you pant heatedly, quivering in his grip.

Javi answers you by plunging his tongue into your fluttering cunt and twirling it in such a way that you feel pleasure punch up into you and wring the breath out of your already shuddering lungs. You cry out a heady sound as you climax, trembling in Javier's powerful grasp as he literally holds you up from crumbling apart against the wall. Static fills your head from your toe-curling orgasm as you heave shaky panting breaths, and dully hear Javier hum against you.

His mouth works you through the aftershocks until you're flinching from hypersensitivity. Your t-shirt is damp with sweat from being pressed flush against the cement wall and at his mercy, and you groan a shallow sigh at the sensation of Javi exhaling a breath against your pussy as he laps your dewy climax up with a satisfied rumble.

Javier smirks against your hip as he sits up on his knees and watches you regain your bearings above him. He is getting off on the sight of you – drunk on your scent and taste, proud of your flushed and gleaming pussy slickened by the comingling of your clear-honeyed climax and his saliva. He licks his lips and wipes his chin with the back of his wrist before chuckling hoarsely.

"Eres tan rica, preciosa," he murmurs thickly as he kisses your womb and starts tracking his mouth up your torso as he stands. "I could do this for hours, if you let me—" he begins to praise before you pull him by the back of his hair to meet your starved kiss.

He grunts, cock jumping in approval as he ruts against you while your heavenly mouth devours his, greedily chasing his tongue and tasting the remnants of his ruinous havoc. You want him – are content to let him have you up against the wall, and he reads your thoughts as you start yanking his belt loose and fumbling to get his jeans open. Javi breaks the kiss and takes your wrists in his grip to press them up against the wall on either side of your head. "Javi, I want you inside me, now," you order, but the pitch of your tone is luscious, serenely magnetic as you arch against him and bite your bottom lip as you blush.

"Fuck," he huffs as his cock throbs and his loins burn, but he reins his primal urge back whilst he presses his forehead against yours and huffs. "…I gotta get a condom," he grumbles as you whine and wring your wrists in his grip. "No seas mala and listen to me," he mutters firmly, but his smoldering eyes are warm and doting as you stare up into them and arch your brows. He can see how your pupils are blown out with lust, so he suppresses a shiver of enticement and presses, "You're gonna be a good girl and keep your hands to yourself so I can go get it."

You vacantly nod; batting your lashes at him and letting your lips soften as you go loose in his grip, humming your agreement. Satisfied, Javier lets you go and goes to step back, when you grin and grab at his jeans to tug him close so you can rub your hand along the length of his erection that's tenting down his thigh. The way Javier jolts and braces his hands against the wall on either side of your shoulders is a victory to a battle you're nowhere near winning, but you relish it regardless as he groans, breath scalding as he nuzzles the crook of your neck and swears. You're too gleeful, so Javi has to put you in your place, to your perverse delight.

You do not expect the way he chooses to do so, however.

Wringing your hand away and pressing it up against the wall while he pries the other from his waistband, he looms over you and struggles to keep from looking wrecked from your mischief as he growls, "That—that was very bad. For being such an atrevida," he grips his hand on a firm and round ass cheek before squeezing it possessively, continuing in a grouse, "You're gonna go to your room and get naked and wait."

The lewd thrill you get from his command is insanely potent, leaving you quivering with giddy longing for what his burning gaze is promising if you comply, but you hesitate. "And if I don't?" you challenge in a lilting whisper, impish smile quirking your plush lips as you narrow your gaze provocatively up at him.

Javier is absolutely floored by your audacity, and realizes he really didn't have any recourse for noncompliance. His hand is still on your ass cheek, so he kneads it, admiring how the supple curve is juicy enough to fit in his large hand, plus some. He caresses it as he possessively tilts your face up by your chin and dramatically huffs his admonishment before grumbling, "Malcriada…if you don't, then I can't give you my cock like you want me to." He was tempted to add he wouldn't get to punish your sexy little ass the way he wanted to, but figured that might get impudence from you.

Now your turn to be titillated, you drag your teeth along your bottom lip before pursing your plush flesh in defeat and grunting haughtily. He kisses you as he steers you to be pointed towards your bedroom before he gives you a cheeky tap on the ass. You squeak, shooting him a sultry glance as you hurriedly saunter to your room. He is striding briskly to the kitchen once you're not in eye line, tearing open one of the boxes and taking the roll of condoms in hand and marching down to the bedroom.

You're just tossing your bra aside when he comes in and lingers in the doorway, watching you deliberate over whether you should change the sheets before hopping in when he mumbles your name. Swiveling to face him, you're in your nude glory and blinking at him, suddenly unsure of what to do. "Take your hair down," he orders, and you press your thighs together – which are still slick from your previous session, and do as your told, loosening the tie and tossing it aside as you shake your hair free to bounce and undulate down your back and across your shoulders. You can see the lust in Javi's expression, eye darkening with something lurid he's thinking of when he walks over and grunts contemplatively down at you. "Get on your hands and knees on the bed," he husks, expression chiseled, the set of his jaw serious as you stare up at him.

Your core is pulsing with anticipation as you do as you're told, face burning whilst you get in the pose and hear him start taking his clothes off. Sound of his boots getting kicked off, shirt ruffling as he unbuttons and shrugs out of it, belt tugged from the loops of the jeans and thwacking to the floor followed by the sound of his zipper being worked down – it all has you trembling with excitement, so you peek over your shoulder just as Javi's knees are sinking down onto the mattress and he's ripping off a condom from the roll before tearing the wrapper open. Roll tossed aside on the bed, you're feeling lascivious as you think: Those are all getting used—

Javier is rolling the condom on and staring at your tight cunt, already slick and getting wetter for him, enjoying how your breathing is getting airy with your excitement. "Such a pretty little pussy," he praises as he finally brushes up against you from behind and lets the press of his cock glide through your folds. "You ever touch yourself while thinking of me?" he rumbles as he mounts you and slots his fingers to rub your pussy while he teases you with his shaft grinding through your dewy petals. You're gasping and mewling as you rut against him and sink down onto your elbows while you try and scrape your thoughts together. "I've jerked off to you a few times—"

"R-really?" you hitch and shiver when he nuzzles you and mouths the side of your neck.

He hums in affirmation as he presses exquisite pressure against your clit and feels you light up. "Jerked off in the shower this morning thinking of you," he admits, tone like velvet over steel. "Ever touch yourself and wish it was me?" Javi asks as he grips your hip and guides your pelvis into alignment so he can start pressing his now-lubricated cock into your cunt from behind.

"Yes!" you hitch out, gasping as he starts jabbing his hips in shallow thrusts to push into your tight, clenching heat. "Mmm, yes," your tone thickens as you try to relax so he can shove more of his exquisite cock into you. "I came so hard thinking of your fingers being inside me, of your cock filling me—"

"Oh fuck," Javi grits out and shoves into your rippling sheath hard from that admittance, tearing a whimper of approval from you as you roll your hips back against him. "That's fucking hot—mmph," he groans against your ear as he starts fucking into you, hands gripping your shoulder and waist. His strong fingers dimple your skin as he pounds into you and tears delicious sounds and cries from you. "Fuck, querida—feel so good!" he stutters out between thrusts as he feels your silken cunt fluttering already.

"Oh god—nngth-ahh! Ja-Javi, I'm—mmm, I'm close—!" you whimper, bowing your head against the bed and feeling your blush of embarrassment burn your face. The building pressure of your climax is just too searing, and he's had you so wound up that the orgasm is almost there—

Javier suddenly pulls out and you cry out in shock, writhing from your pussy clamping down on nothing when it was just being stretched to the max by his ramrod dick. Before you can be propelled into stunned upset, Javi is pushing the heel of his hand to nudge you down on the bed onto your chest, forcing your thighs to butterfly from your knees being spread apart. When he slams his cock back into your pussy, you wring your hands into the sheets and arch, feeling stretched and precariously pinned to the bed by his weight as he presses down over you and starts to pound your cunt.

The sound of his apex slapping into your ass as he slams into that devastatingly pressure point within you is perversely gratifying, making your pussy flood with excitement as you whimper incandescently, "Ahh! Right there! Oh god-oh god, Ja-Javi—!"

That's all he needs to hear, and is thrusting with abandon into you, chasing that wrecking sensation of completion he feels when you both come at the same time. He's there, so close, and the way you squirm for it, like the sensation of fire is licking up your flesh, tips him over the edge. "Fuck—oh fuck—!" he growls between tight jaw, propping himself up with his fisted hands pressed into the mattress as he barrels into you desperately, his groans hoarse as he slams into you and holds there just as you go taut under him and your inner walls clutch around him, milking his cock greedily for his climax.

You both reach bliss together and are awash with ecstasy as sensation wrings through you. He groans your name and shakily exhales while you're pulsing with the fierceness of your orgasm. Javi is shuddering on top of you with the effort of not collapsing in a heap over you, and it takes him a few seconds to finally hear your murmurs of his name, which reels him back into himself so he can rest his head against yours and nudge you affectionately. "Cariño, you ok?" he mumbles against your mussed hair before nuzzling you tenderly.

You hum pithily, and melt under him. "I'm perfect," you sigh wistfully, dreamy smile pressing into the side of his forearm when you kiss him there. Javi has to stop himself from wrapping his arms around you and squeezing from the longing feeling that coils in his chest, which would require him to press all his weight onto you.

Instead, he eases out of your silken heat and is careful not to let any fluids spill as he takes care of the condom and cleans off quickly so he can pull you into his arms and settle you on his chest after he lies back in bed with you. You are fucked out beautifully, and he caresses you soothingly as you come down from the nerve searing high of being dominated by him.

He could really use a cigarette, but he left them on the counter, and he is in no rush to get up right now. Not with you slinking your leg over his hips and nuzzling fond kisses along his jaw. "You?"

He blinks lazily down at you, deciphering the question. "I could use a cigarette," he admits, and you snicker, kissing his chest and going to roll away, when he holds you in place against him with the arm around your waist. "It can wait," he elaborates and cuddles you close, pressing his nose into the top of your hair and inhaling your sweet, heady perfume.

"…The sheets were dirty," you offer vacantly, still a bit dreamy from having all sensation seared into you by the weight of him and the fill of his cock before it was fizzled out of you after being shaken apart by such a fantastic orgasm.

He snorts and kisses the top of your head. "Not like we were doing anything pristine on them anyway," he jibes, tone honeyed with humor and affection.

You both remain like that for a bit until other urges compel you both out of bed. Coming back from the bathroom, you expect him to be sipping his whiskey from a glass between puffs of a cigarette, but instead find both vices set aside on the nightstand and him sitting at the edge of the bed with the sheet over his lap.

He's dutifully sorting through your laundry from the basket and already has a few garments folded in stacks next to him, and you're startled by the oddly endearing domesticity of having a naked Adonis, albeit a very naughty descarado, neatly rolling a pair of socks into each other.

"I think you missed your calling, agente," you tease as you crawl into bed to sit next to him, gaze flirty and amused.

"I'm just keeping myself busy. These look great, by the way," he holds up a pair of lacy panties. "Wear these for me next time," he prompts and smirks when you yank the skimpy garment out of his grasp and raise a sarcastic brow at him. "Or maybe don't wear anything at all…"

"Unlike some, I can't pull off going commando," you joke and kiss his shoulder. "It'd give me too much anxiety—"

"Does anyone hassle you…at work, I mean? Because if that's why…" Javi poses and eyes you, his implication hanging in the air as you snicker and playfully shove him. "I'm serious. You'd tell me…if anyone was out of line with you?"

You sober at his tone and the flinty, intense look in his eyes. Where is this coming from?

"Javi, I'm not going to walk around with no panties on under my work skirt," you barb wryly. He softens, gloating look obvious from you slipping and using his nickname without being in the throes of carnal delight. "You're just a fresco hoping for an up-skirt fantasy," you poke him in the chest and watch his lips quirk deviously at the thought. "I can handle myself. No one's ever messed with me at work or otherwise," you lie, and are sure your smooth delivery was successful as you collect the laundry he's folded and place it in the basket before nudging him to come lounge in bed instead.

He follows, but surprises you by leaning back against you and forcing you to cuddle him as he lounges like you're the most comfortable pillow in the world. You scoff and drape your arms over his shoulders to caress his chest, bare breasts molding against his back; splaying your legs in a V to accommodate his broad, tall frame. He reaches for his lit cigarette in the ashtray while you settle into the propped pillows at your back. You're about to get lost in nuzzling his hair and tracing his muscles while he lazily finishes his cigarette when he exhales a long breath and causes smoke to twine like billowy tendrils and twirl about in the early evening air.

"If that's true, then why do you have a gun?"

You tense, hands stilling in their tactile mapping while your brows furrow in suspicion. The impulse to lie is there, but you shove it away. "I'm a single woman living alone in Bogotá," you answer, neutrally. "Anything else you'd like to interrogate me over, Agente Peña?"

Javier finishes his cigarette and stubs it out in the ashtray before reaching for his whiskey. He sits up and drains it in a gulp, giving you the chance to watch his back ripple with his movements as he tries to ease the tension between his shoulder blades; to feign he's unruffled. But the way his broad shoulders square, you know he's anything but. Once he's put the empty glass aside, he's pivoting to turn and stare at you with those stern eyes, which are flashing chestnut now from the angle of his scowl and how the light from the lamp catches in his irises. He pinches his bottom lip between thumb and forefinger, then smoothens his moustache out in thought. Deliberating, terse in his rumination.

"Yes. Just a few things, señorita," he mutters, finally, eyes flinty as he adjusts to sidle next to you and stare at you sharply. "Why do you lie to me, for one? I'm trained to spot it, you know—"

"You'll have to teach me how to be better at it, then," you deflect, pressing your knees together and drawing them up to pull the sheet in reach so you can cover up.

He huffs at that, draping his arm across his bent knee and giving you a piercing glance. "C'mon, cariño. You can level with me," he cajoles firmly, leaning his shoulder into yours. You absently comb a hand through your hair and pull it to the side, over the opposite shoulder. Javi watches you, and wants to kiss the column of your throat, pull you close and declare tons of things he has no right to say – to promise. So, instead, he adds, "Give me something here?"

"As if I haven't given you plenty already?" you counter snidely, a bit miffed now. His expression is earnest, lips pressing together as he watches the flash of anger cool in your gaze before you sigh and adjust to lean your head on his shoulder. "Why were you snooping in there anyway?" you shoot, delicate brow arched in judgment. He shrugs and gives you this mischievous look, and you flush, remembering the empty bowl in the drawer and answering, "Hence the condoms. Never mind," snickering before changing the subject as you settle down again. "Why don't you ask me what you really want to?" you press and glance sidelong at his jaw.

You watch his Adam's apple bob as he deliberates on that, then shrugs. "Do you know how to use it?"

Perplexed, you glance up at him. You'd not expected that. "Yes, but I've not had to use it," you reply haltingly. "It's only for protection if someone was to break in, promise. I don't carry it with me," you elaborate and are gratified to see some of the tension ease from his shoulders. "Nothing's happened here. There was an…incident back home years ago, and when I took the job at the embassy, my father gave me the gun for protection," you muse and relax against him when he wraps his arm around you and herds you close.

Javi grunts and kisses your temple. "You would tell me if anything happens? Especially anything dangerous," he murmurs in a tone you can't decipher.

"…I don't need your protection, Javi," you reply and feel him exhale, getting wound up by your aloof answer. "And that isn't what you wanted to ask," you mutter and adjust so you can look at him.

Javier rolls his eyes for the first time since you've met, and it has an appeal; seeing him becoming vexed. "You are so fucking stubborn, it's kind of amazing," he counters before circling your waist and pulling you onto his lap. You yelp and squeeze his shoulders as he kisses you. It astounds you to feel his hard-on jutting up between your thighs, considering the tenor of the conversation. "Fine. I wanted to ask if I could see you…if you'd be open to getting to know each other?" he poses against your lips after he breaks the kiss, hands clutching at your curves while you gaze into his gleaming brewed depths.

You did not expect him to ask that either. However, you smile and wryly quip, "So what've we been doing up to now? Just curious what you'd call this if it isn't us seeing and getting to know each other."

Well, he hadn't really thought about it that way, so he admits, "Flirting? Trying to vie for you to give me the fucking time of day? Amazing sex?"

You laugh, soft and melodious before it trails off in a sigh and you find yourself nodding. "Alright. Yeah…I'd like that," you relent and let him pull you into a not-so-chaste kiss. Javier Peña has worn you down this far, so what's the point of not giving in a little more.

The roll of condoms is one less after you both get carried away again into a hearty session of coupling as night has finally descended. The pining glee that earths deep in your core for him is disorienting, and you wallow contentedly in it as you lay in post-coital repose next to him while he spoons you and brushes his lips along your shoulder and whispers questions that you answer without any pretense. No topic is off limits, and you find that he's willing to be just as open to your own questions.

He tells you about Laredo, how he'd ended up in the DEA, and how day in and day out, his work is an exercise in futility, but he thrives on the challenge, in being resourceful. You absorb all that, softened by his candor, and you divulge to him – tell him about your 5-year plan, that you're half Colombian and have family in Medellín, broaching even the topic you've been avoiding initiating.

Javier listens and catalogues it all, wanting to pepper you with invasive questions he can sense are precarious topics to push you on, but instead goes back to that topic he'd been intrigued to see if you'd initiate. After all, even his informants – the working girls – would ask him 'Am I the only one?' or 'Is there anyone else besides me?' and he would obfuscate. You've had yet to mention it, even when he thought you were about to earlier. So, he finally asks:

"What rumors have you heard about me?"

Your smile is zany, surprised and tickled that he wants to know such a thing. "What do you think the rumors are?" you turn it around on him, curious.

"That I'm an asshole that cuts corners," he mutters unflinchingly, fingers drawing circles along the curve of your hip while the forearm braced around your collarbones cheekily squeezes you. "And that I sleep with my informants."

You hum, confirming, "Yes to the former and latter." You don't ask if they're true. Instead, you murmur, "Rameras being on the take is the big one."

He grunts. Part of him is curious, but he doesn't ask if it bothers you. Instead, he corrects, "Working girls."

It takes everything in your snarky being not to snort at that. Of course he'd have some amendment – some justification. You're going into a dangerous territory where you don't think you will be able to remain neutral. It's not about judgment. But you would be foolish to think that you wouldn't be jealous or bothered by the thought of him being with another woman after this – while you're both engaging in whatever the hell this is.

"Just…do me a favor and give me the courtesy of a heads up."

Javier thinks he heard you wrong, or is completely misunderstanding your meaning. You turn in his embrace and gaze openly at him when he doesn't immediately respond. He looks stumped, and you raise a surprised eyebrow before trailing your hand up to caress your fingertips along his forehead, brushing the hair flopped there affectionately. He closes his eyes and relaxes while you trace along the angles of his face, down the chiseled ridge of his nose, across his moustache and flush against his lips.

"Querida," he exhales and kisses your fingertips before pulling you close and nuzzling your cheekbone, kissing along it and into the skewed strands of your hair— grazing the shell of your ear. "You're too good for me…" he mumbles, adjusting his arms to encircle you and let you wrap your arms around his torso.

You hug him and feel him melt into you as he presses his nose to your hair and inhale your soothing scent. It all makes for a powerful feeling you get addicted to. Just as you think he's going to start dozing with you in his arms, Javier grunts a musing sound.

"Okay, one more question," he poses in a murmur and tucks your head under his chin. When you hum for him to continue, he asks, "Why're there so many old people around here? Did the embassy place you in a retirement home for ansianos?"

You can't help laugh, snickering as you shake your head irreverently. "No, chavón. This is my grandparent's apartment, and yes – most of the tenants are mature folks," you reply and kiss his throat. "They retired and moved back to Medellín. It's fully furnished so it's a great long-term rental, and I'd rather stay here than where they set you gringos up in," you tease and yelp when he squeezes his arms around you puckishly.

"So I don't have to worry about any of your neighbors coming over to romance you," he chuckles and you nudge the side of his jaw with your temple and scoff.

"Nope, but I do have to deal with the occasional prying comments," you volunteer before wryly murmuring, "You had better watch out for my neighbors who think you're so guapo."

He chuckles and nuzzles your hairline. "New meaning to chinga tu madre," he drawls and you pinch his side humorously, earning an amused grunt from him and his mirth to cool his soulful, smoldering gaze as he captures your lips in a indulgent kiss.

The next morning, you both wake up from the alarm blaring that you mechanically turn off. Before you can crawl out of bed, though, Javi pulls you back and within minutes, he's fucking you on your side, spooning you possessively as he pounds into your pussy from behind.

You're so sore when you're under the shower spray, but you don't care. Not when Javi is pressed up behind you, soaping up your back before he massages his doting touch all over your body. It's a miracle he doesn't fuck you up against the tiles, and you see his musing smirk as you turn and kiss his throat while you affectionately scrub your hands down his back. It's like he's trying to prove that he does indeed have some control over his impulses, even though he does think about fucking you while watching you dry your hair in the reflection of the medicine cabinet mirror as he shaves.

You're both dressed and have enough time to get in before the rush hour peak, so Javi takes you to the coffee shop. Don Gilberto is jovial at seeing you after you'd not come in the previous morning and he shakes Javi's hand in greeting before serving up the coffees and the two pandebonos.

There's no denying it. You feel comfortable with Javi, and from the way he takes your hand as you walk across the street to his jeep, you're a relief for him – something he's hanging onto and isn't in a rush to define, but that he's certain he doesn't want to lose.

When he thinks about it as he drives, he keeps coming up with one four-letter word that describes it, how he feels.

Home. Since he's been in Colombia, he's not felt anything calming or reassuring. It's magnetic and comforting that he feels so at ease with you. That he can let his guard down with you.

He glances at you now in the passenger seat as he drives, the hand resting on your thigh giving you an affectionate squeeze. "You sure? It's early enough that no one's gonna be in the garage—"

"This is just as much for your professional convenience as mine, you know," you counter mockingly, but smile as you glance fondly over at him. "I'm sure you don't want to get grabbed by the collar for dipping your pen in the embassy ink—"

"I don't give a fuck," he cuts in, terse as he pulls onto the avenue you mentioned getting dropped off to so you can walk to the embassy gates without risking anyone seeing you together. "If they wanted to get rid of me, they would've by now. The ambassador doesn't like me, but she can't do shit," he mutters and pulls into a spot by the curb and puts the gear in park. He stretches his arm across the back of your seat and shifts to stare at you. His expression is no-nonsense as he gives you a look, sizing you up. "Alright, fine, I want to know. Is it just because of the gossip?" he interrogates. "Because I'm not that much of an asshole to not get that—"

You balk and swivel your indignant stare at him. "So you might not get this because I'm not one of your working girls, but I have gone out of my way to not open myself up to any kind of sweeping assessments about my competency in doing my job or knowing what I'm talking about," you answer with the finesse of a battering ram to the chest. "I would be opening myself up to ridicule – to being completely dismissed as someone who fucks around at work. Even if you were the goddamned copy guy on the second floor, I would not be advertising that we're dating, Javi, so if you're trying to take this personal? Don't," you snap, blazing gaze blistering now that you see him grinning at you – damned dimple appearing to tease you – and trying to suppress his grin by thumbing his moustache and easing his lips into a sober smile, but failing. And then you realize it:

You totally tipped your hand and made it obvious that you are bothered by the thought of him and his working girls – that you're not his only solterita. You also just said you're dating, which, what? Are you?!

He sees the fury bubble up to wind your shoulders and flash in your eyes. "Querida—" he begins and caresses your shoulder, tone appeasing as you grab your purse and undo your seatbelt.

You shrug his hand away as you feel yourself on the brink of going off on him. "This is funny to you!" you accuse, tone dipped in a disarmingly calm hiss.

"It's not," he cuts in and holds his hands up as if he's trying to calm a caged tiger from biting his head off. "I wasn't laughing. It's just," he stops to choose his words carefully when you simmer, glaring at him like the next thing he says could lead to him being mauled to death. "You look so fucking good when you're mad," he states, and when you tense and stare dubiously at him, he adds in a murmur, "Give me your hand."

You're tempted to slap him as a response, but you suspiciously extend your hand to him, curious. Javier takes it and pulls it over, guiding you to cup his crotch and feel how rock-hard he is through his jeans from your testy rebuking. "Javi—!"

"No one else turns me on like this – by fucking yelling at me, except you, malcriada," he huffs, tone honey poured over gravel as he grouses, "I'm gonna be hard all fucking day now, thinking of you, so do me a favor and wear something sexy tonight, because when I come over, your sassy ass is mine."

You are so frustrated that you can't unzip his fly and jerk him off right here and now after he tells you that, and it takes all of your stubborn willpower to not melt in the passenger seat when Javier leans over and kisses your lips. It feels too fleeting – too chaste for what you need right now, but you realize you have to focus on getting out of the car and walking to the embassy with your panties already wet and nipples studding against your bra.

Javi watches you go and struggles to ease the pressure in his crotch before he drives to the embassy and goes through the security gate. You're in the elevator by the time he's sitting at his desk and daydreaming about you sitting on top of it, with your legs spread open to show him how wet you are for him.

"Earth to Peña. You listening?" Steve cuts into his daze when he drops a bunch of forms at his desk. He's now only half listening and nods, forcing himself to listen to his partner when he gets to the important stuff, the latest from surveillance so he can relay it to Carrillo later.

By the time he's at your door at the end of the day, he's anxious for it and internally swearing at himself. Where is this going? He doesn't know, but fuck if he wants to mess it up by putting a bunch of logic in, or by verbalizing expectations.

When you open the door, Javi has to rein in the impulse to sweep you into his arms and carry you to bed. You're wearing a flirty blue dress, spaghetti straps accentuating your lovely, sloping shoulders, and he can smell the delicious aroma of a home-cooked meal coming from the kitchen as you pull him in and close the door behind him. You notice the small duffle at his side, and smile to yourself, wondering when he made time to go home and pack it.

"I went food shopping," you declare and get on your tippy toes to peck him on the lips before you flounce back to the stove. He doesn't know why your bare feet are so cute to him as you scamper off, but then again he's fixating on every plane of skin you have bare for him. You hear him shed his jacket, store his gun on the side table, then his boots trekking across the apartment, the drop of the duffle in the hall and his steps getting closer. "I hope you like arroz con pollo and tostones—"

He's crowding you from behind and kissing your bare shoulder. "You listened," he purrs before he nuzzles his mouth against your neck and suckles on the delicate spot under the curve of your jaw. "Good girl."

You are tingling with excitement, but enjoy the foreplay of teasing him until he bristles and acts on impulse. "Can you make me a drink? Just need to keep stirring this so it doesn't burn or stick," you muse in an airy pitch when he cheekily caresses the edge of his thumb along the cup of your breast and feels that indeed, there is no bra underneath.

He huffs his grunt and haltingly goes to do as you ask, and you smirk to yourself. He likes to wind you up and get you irate so he can get off on the effect he has on you? Well, you like to rile him up until he's surly with his arousal and push more to see him grapple with his baser desires. The dark, heated look that fogs his coffee-brewed eyes – the set of his brow and the press of his lips when he gets really riled are all prizes you relish earning, coveting the glory of having an effect on him.

Javier is ravenous, has been thinking about you all damned day, to the point that as soon as he got to his place to pack a bag before coming over, he jerked off to take the edge off. It helped him think straight, but now? All he can think about is what you're wearing under the dress. He's betting on it being the lacy panties he plucked from your laundry basket yesterday, eager to caress and find out how they feel cinched around your fantastic ass.

When you taste from the wooden spoon and nod in approval, he watches you turn the stove off and set the pot onto a cool burner so it doesn't keep cooking. Your smile is teasing as you sip the drink he hands you, eyes twinkling at him – watching him finish his whiskey and pour himself another.

"You seem wound up," you lilt as you set the glass on the counter under the cabinet you open to retrieve dishware.

He grunts, grumbling, "I have to go to Medellín in the morning. Might be gone a couple of days…"

"Ah," you muse and are standing on your tippy toes, reaching for a specific bowl. Javi watches as your dress slinks and rides up. He gulps his whiskey and stares, entranced by what he doesn't see.

When you settle back to the soles of your feet and place the bowl aside next to the stove, he's spinning you around and pulling you against him, causing you to hiccup a sound of surprise as he paws his hands down in a possessive grope of your form before settling his hands over your derrière to drag underneath the dress's skirt. Instead of lace, he touches bare skin, confirming his aching suspicion. You feel his muscles tense, floored, as he stares heatedly down at you while he kneads his hands over your ass. You cannot help goad him.

"To your liking, agente?"

That did it. Javi spins you around and presses you to bend over the island counter as he rushes to unfasten his belt and jeans with one hand while the other drags down your back and bunches the material of the dress up so your lower half is exposed to his greedy gaze as he swears at how delectable you look – already flushed and wet for him.

"Fucking atrevida," he husks and slides his hand down your ass to curl between your thighs and rub your pussy. You gasp and writhe in delight, hands gripping for purchase on the counter when he groans impatiently behind you and parts your soaked folds to press two fingers in. "Always fucking teasing me," he huffs, surly as he suddenly tugs a spaghetti strap off your shoulder so he can press his mouth there and crowd you from behind while he works his fingers in and out of you from behind, leaving you precariously balanced between the counter top and the fingers he plunges into you.

"Ah—!" you whimper as Javi pumps his fingers in you a few times and pulls out of your clenching heat before he forces you to spin around to shove your lower back into the counter so he can suck his fingers clean of you, shoving his knee between your thighs to pin you in place. "Babe—" you babble as he yanks the straps down your arms and forces the bust of the dress to roll down and expose your breasts.

"Mmm, I like that," he rumbles as he fondles your tits, thumbs flicking at your taut nipples before he bows his head and licks a lascivious swipe across one, growling, "Say it again," before he repeats the lewd treatment onto the other nipple.

You're writhing against his knee, gasping as you clutch at the sides of his shirt and stutter whimpers before managing a quaking, "Babe. W-want you—"

When he hoists you effortlessly onto the countertop and settles between your thighs, you think he's going to fuck you right there on the kitchen island, dress bunched around your midriff and hair cascading over the edge, but instead you feel him plant a wet kiss to the top of your thigh.

You squirm and cry out in surprise when his tongue drags wetly from perineum to the top of your mound before he presses his mouth against your clit. Legs flinching, they jerk as you buckle and pant your mewls, overawed with how titillating his ferocity to devour you is – at how raunchy it all is, and already feeling on the edge.

Javi can't take it anymore. He's desperate and can't wait, so he pulls back from your fluttering and wet cunt to free his cock from his jeans and work the condom he doesn't even remember pulling from his pocket or tearing open onto his throbbing manhood. You can see it's flushed and pulsing to be inside you as he secures the prophylactic at the base before he suddenly yanks you to the edge of the counter so he can line himself against your hot center, notching at the dimple of your entrance.

Instead of pushing in little by little, Javier slams his cock into you and grips you in his arms when you arch against the counter top and hook your legs around his waist. "Ja-Javi, nngth—fuck," you gasp tensely as he slams again into you, giving your tight sheath no time to prepare for the stretch of him. You pant sharply and dig your fingertips into his bicep when he pulls you close. "Too much—too big," you hitch in a reedy whimper, biting your bottom lip from the burn of your floor muscles straining, thighs tensing up.

That reins Javier in and he stills, giving you a chance to catch your breath and relax as your muscles acclimate. He swears to himself and kisses your breasts in unspoken apology, groans when you massage your fingers into his scalp and down his nape, soothing the tension at the back of his neck. "Didn't mean to hurt—" he begins to mumble, but you shush him.

Kissing his forehead reassuringly, you snicker. "None of that. I just wasn't ready," you whisper and giggle – smiling when he huffs wryly and nuzzles you, claiming your lips with his.

You wrap your legs around his waist when he decides to carry you from the kitchen to your bed, snickering when he snorts at the sight of new sheets before he's sinking down onto the mattress. He lets you roll him onto his back so you can straddle him and ride his cock. You hurriedly yank off your dress and toss it, now completely naked and rolling your hips over him while he watches the way your breasts bounce as you fuck yourself onto him and whimper his name.

Javier decides then and there that there's nothing better than the sight of you crying out and coming undone above him. The way your eyes clench shut, lashes dark against your flushed cheeks and plush lips parted in an airy exhale of content pleasure before grinding yourself down to nestle his cock deep inside you while your hands grip his chest. It's all intense – divine, and he feels unworthy, but favored by your resplendent grace.

When you've recovered from the orgasm, you tug at the buttons of his shirt so you can yank it open and press your torso to his in order to nuzzle loving kisses to his throat. "I want you to come inside me, babe," you purr against his neck and feel Javi shudder and his muscles flex. "I thought about you fucking me all day—"

"Jesus Christ, querida—" Javier begins to warn, hands gripping your thighs. Your hand curls into his hair and you tug so he has to tilt his head back to your hungry mouth. Javi is about to tell you how you're pushing him over the edge of control when you graze your teeth in that spot right under his earlobe and suckle it.

You're suddenly dizzy from the change in positions after Javi rears up and tosses you onto the bed before he yanks you to glide across the soft surface when he bracelets your ankle and pulls you to the edge of the bed. Brusquely, he shoves his cock back into you from behind and has you on your knees when he drapes his forearm over your collarbones and pins you back against his torso as he starts fucking you with abandon. "Nngth!" you whimper and gasp, arching into him when Javier licks your neck and settles his mouth over your pulse just as he slams into that tender point in you that has you trembling as he rockets you up towards another searing orgasm so close after the last one. His other arm encircles your waist as he rocks you onto him, hips snapping up into you before he harshly moans his climax when your fluttering cunt floods and clutches libidinously around his cock. "Javi!" you pant out, pitch tight and needy as he prolongs your ecstasy by thrusting through your rippling sheath.

"Fucking hell—" he exhales against you as he feels his body burn with savage accomplishment. He's sweating – still dressed, albeit disheveled – and breathing hard as you go pliant in his arms. They're still pinning you to him, and you're precariously balanced upright on your knees with his lap flush against your ass and thighs spread to keep you open to him.

You can feel his heartbeat at your back and inside you. It's divine, and you're radiating with rapture from such a lurid sensation.

With a little sound, you sigh delightedly as he lets you unfurl to the bed so he can collapse in a spent heap next to you. You're both like that, just heaving, sweaty forms of buzzing completion, for a while. The sick satisfaction of being railed and wrecked by Javi is deliriously gratifying, and you can't help smile as you finally catch your breath enough to roll onto your side and check on him.

He looks just as wrecked, and the swell of accomplishment has you giddy. Javier has a forearm draped over his eyes while the other is across his stomach – legs hanging over the edge of the bed and spread wide. His muscles are covered in a thin sheen of sweat, dark vellos below his navel looking enticing enough to comb your nails through while the V-shape of his hips is just asking for kisses. What a fucking sight, you pine, and manage to tenderly shimmy to the edge of the bed so you can go to work undressing him. You tug his boots off one at a time and set them aside on the floor before peeling his jeans the rest of the way down his hips and tugging them off his legs. The whole time you're undressing him, Javi is just lying there, panting and making soft grunts from your doting ministrations. You even tend to the condom, and he hisses and fidgets under you.

"Baby—" he protests, but hums when you kiss his chest and slap his arm away when he tries to lazily pull you down. The sensation of you giving him aftercare has the space behind his sternum expanding, buzzing with warmth. It's all too much for him after he almost treated you like—

"Sit up for me," you murmur as you straddle his hips and tug at his wrists. Javi complies and lets you work his shirt off to be tossed with the rest of his clothes before you encircle your arms around his shoulders and give him a loving hug.

He buries his face against you and wraps his arms around your torso, squeezing with more than affection while you sigh and smile.

"You hungry?"

Javier laughs, shaking his head musingly and nuzzling you, his smile soft and the brooding cloud that was coming over him blown apart by your ability to anchor him from going adrift. "Yeah, I could eat," he chuckles and kisses you.

You both sit in bed and eat, naked and content as you talk about anything and everything. He compliments your cooking while you beam and brag that you make a mean lasagna.

"Well now you have to make it, if you're gonna brag like that," he teases, smirking goadingly over the rim of his glass before he takes a long sip.

"Alright, tough guy, I will. You better be prepared to eat it all," you counter sardonically and set your plates aside on the nightstand.

"When has that ever been a problem," he poses, but the dirty double meaning is obvious as he bounces his brows at you.

You swat his bicep and giggle, "How have you gotten through life being such a perv?"

"It's been very hard," he quips, and you scoff at yet another raunchy pun.

The smile doesn't leave your lips though the rest of the night as he washes dishes while you put everything away in the fridge. He looks good in just his half-unfastened jeans as he rinses cutlery at the sink, and he keeps stealing glances at you wearing the nighty you pulled out of the recesses of a drawer.

You sensed that heaviness well up in him before, and are glad you could tug him free of it. The curiosity to ask him is there, but you instead deny yourself. It's enough that he pulled you close and melted into you. The feeling of pride that coils in your heart at that is something you want to cherish and not question – at least not yet.

Once settled under the covers and lying together in the dark, you sidle close to him and relish how he loops his arm around you and kisses your forehead.

You can only manage to say goodbye to him in the morning because he took you while you writhed into the pillows and dug your fingertips into his back as he murmured filthy praise before grumbling how he'd have to be stuck only thinking about doing this for the next few days. He lingers in the doorway, showered and refreshed, as if deliberating something, so you roll your eyes and rise to your tippy toes to kiss his lips. "Go, or the next manhunt will be Murphy looking for you and finding you in my bed," you quip laconically.

He snickers – smirk revealing that dimple in his cheek as he affectionately pats your silky-robe-covered ass and muses, "I'll be back, preciosa. Pórtate bien."

You roll your eyes and purse your lips at him, crossing your arms and watching him go, duffle slung over his shoulder as he lopes off.

As you close the door and lean back against it, you can't help the self-deprecating thought:

You're trying and failing miserably. Crashing and burning for Javi Peña, and you're happy about it?

With a dramatic exhale, you shrug, rescind. Yep, you're happy about it, and you're not going to care to change that, until you care to.

---

Spanish-English Glossary:

Solterita = Name of Colombian orange zest cookie; also the term for a "single gal"

Ese hombre era guapísimo = That man was ridiculously handsome

Lo se. Pero no se lo diga si lo ve otra vez = I know, but don't go telling him that if you see him again

¡Un momento! = One moment!

Ah, mira quien es = Well, look who it is

Señorita = little lady

Ramera = Whore; prostitute

No, pa'bajo = No, get down

Querida = Affectionate term for a female, akin to expressing one's want and desire

¡Eso es de nenas! = Akin to saying "That's for silly girls"

Chavón = a man that's pestering you

Atrevido/Atrevida = Daring man/Daring woman

Beyako = Puerto Rican slang for horny/naughty guy; akin to "horn dog"

Eres tan rica, preciosa = You're so good/You taste so good, gorgeous

No seas mala = Don't be bad

Malcriada = Bratty woman; spoiled woman; naughty woman

Vellos = hair; peach fuzz

Cariño = darling/sweetheart

Descarado = cad; scoundrel; rake

Agente = agent

Fresco = a guy who's being 'fresh', or naughty/pervy

Pórtate bien = Be good/Behave

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