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?

6. Chapter 6: Want - Part 2

Warning: Graphic depictions of sex, adult situations, gratuitous smut, jealousy, and a little unhealthy toxicity? Possessive!Javi is back, and a very healthy helping of Dom!Javi comes to play, with Defiant/Sub!Reader in the mix.

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Chapter 6: Want - Part 2

While Javier silently broods as he follows his partner's lead, he can't help admonish himself for pulling the wrong wire on the bomb he'd activated himself by mentioning you coming over to his apartment. Firstly, that was probably completely out of the question, seeing how the apartment block was pretty much exclusively filled with tenants who worked at the embassy, not to mention his upstairs neighbors were his partner and his wife. You were emphatic about keeping your relationship under wraps, regardless of the fact that he was pretty sure you were averse to being conquered in the same bed he's notoriously taken many a woman to. Expression etched in terse rumination, Javier uses the whole helicopter ride to think about how he could possibly make things right now.

You, on the other hand, manage to seethe covertly all day, replaying everything in your mind and getting more and more resentful. Had you rescind yourself to being okay with his tryst when you thought it happened the night you called? No…but you also had been so goddamned worried and pining for Javi yesterday that you'd not cared, and then for him to, what, blame you for driving him to sleep with that supposed informant?! Oh, it boiled your blood!

By the time you're walking into the bar with Ellis, you're looking to toss all the drinks back like one of the boys, and they're impressed with your glib humor and amused laughs as you signal for one Cuba libre after another.

"Ok, level with me: is the colonel very old school, or a classic good 'ol boy?" you ask Luke, feeling loose and unbothered as the other guys whistle or catcall boisterously at your daring question. "I'm just trying to find out how buttoned up I need to be—"

"He's all of the above, and cousins with Uncle Sam, let's put it that way," Luke jokes, and the other guys agree as they go to the bar, leaving you two to chat at the circular table. "He cares about competence. As long as you have it, you're golden, m'lady."

You shake your head at that, sipping your drink and completely missing the twinkle in his hazel eyes as they scan your features. "T-minus two days. Do you think I'm competent?" you muse and glance at Luke, smiling when he seems disarmed. "Yikes, that bad—?"

"No! Not at all," he quickly declares. "You're probably the most competent woman I've met."

You snicker and wave that off. "We'll see. You'll tell me what he honestly says after, right?" you pose, deliberately putting Luke Samson on the spot and enjoying how he squirms.

"Jesus, we should appoint you head interrogator," he quips wryly and brushes your fingertips when he goes to collect your empty glass. "Next one's on me?"

You nod, smiling as he lopes over to the bar.

When he holds you by your elbow to help you walk down the steep steps at the front entrance of the bar about an hour later, you don't think anything of it, or how he and Ellis rib you lightheartedly for being Miss Cuba Libre for the night as Luke secures your seatbelt on for you before platonically squeezing your knee and wishing you a goodnight.

"Well, kid, you got that dude smitten," Ellis remarks in a drawl as he drives, and you snicker and dismissively wave him off. "Nope, I mean it. You should've seen the way he was looking at you tonight—"

"Oh god, Ellis, please…I don't want to hear that right now," you rebuff flatly, and lean your head against the window.

"It isn't a career-ender to date people who work in the same building as you," he gently suggests. "He's a nice fella, and he's into you." When you say nothing to refute that, Ellis presses, "Do you think he's cute?"

You giggle, feeling ridiculously endeared to your coworker and best friend who can act like an awkward older brother at times. "He's got that Christian Slater look to him—"

"That's who he reminds me of!" Ellis exclaims and snaps his fingers. "Well then?" he prods again, eyes on the road.

"Well then, what? Yes, he's cute. But I'm not interested," you reply, and give him a reassuring look.

Ellis relents – for now – and offers to walk you to your door after he parks at the curb, but you insist you're fine. Once in your apartment, you lock the door and strip, tipsy and tingly but desperate for a hot and relaxing bath. Once you sink under the warm, soothing water, you melt, relishing how the sore tension of your muscles eases a bit as you soak. You're the most tender between your thighs, and when you touch yourself there, you wince, caressing your fingertips along your still-puffy folds and ignoring how your mind flashes to how Javi's fingers felt touching you there.

Huffing, you shove those pining thoughts away, hell-bent on staying furious at him this time.

Did he mean anything he'd said?

You frown, the insecure question causing a pang of hurt to well in your chest. Tiredly, you get out of the bath and dry off, haphazardly tying the towel around yourself and padding on warm soles along the cool tile of the hallway and yawning, when the accursed phone rings.

Hesitating, you stand in the hall and question whether you should answer it, which instantly makes you angry. Going to the phone, you answer it.

"Hello?"

"Do you know how good you look when you're mad?"

Goddammit, you think to yourself as your heart flutters before your rage fans over you. "Is that why you're such an hijueputa, then? To get a rise out of me so you can get off on it?!" you snap crisply, gripping your towel closed over your chest.

Javier huffs at that, and you know he's relying on his charm to diffuse you, but it ain't gonna happen, and he seems to come to the same conclusion. "I meant what I said, querida. All of it," he gruffly mutters, and you can hear him exhale the way he does when he puffs out a cloud of smoke from his cigarette. "I don't know what else to do to convince you—"

"Besides not fuck other women, you mean," you jab dismissively. "Got it."

"You thought I had that night. What's it matter if it actually happened days after that night?" he posits tersely, his surly mood giving his gravelly pitch an edge. "Why let me be with you last night?"

All fair questions that you have no satisfying answer to. "What do you want, Javi?" you exhale exhaustedly, feeling the rum start to seep into your blood and make you tired.

"You."

The simplicity and irrevocable strength of his answer sends a chill through you. "You had me," you blurt in a hushed tone, feeling that scalding anger burn in your veins. "I'm not going to stop you from doing what you clearly wanted to do, regardless—"

"Fucking hell," he cuts in brusquely, losing his temper. "It. DID. NOT. Mean. Anything—"

"That's worse!" you snap. "You indiscriminately fucked someone and you don't even know why, just that you didn't give a shit about it! And all this after you couldn't even give me the fucking courtesy I asked for – to give me a heads up. Do you talk about me the way you do about this supposed informant?" you rail, tone fierce, but hard as you hold fast to not letting your hurt well and bubble over in you.

"You told me to not tell anyone about us, and I haven't," he grouses, baritone dipping as he loses his patience. "I don't have a problem with people knowing I want you, but you don't want to be caught dead, or otherwise, with me."

Heat rises to your face in consternation. "All I've heard for days is how you're fucking flirting up every skirt in the embassy, so excuse me if I'm skeptical of being just another notch on your belt," you sneer, adding critically, "This is just a fucking game to you—"

"When I get back into town this week, I'm going to see you. If you want to yell at me more, fine, but you're going to look me in the eye and do it—" Javier is demanding, which takes you off guard, especially when he suddenly growls, "And you better not be seeing that asshole now—!"

"…What?!" you gape, gripping the phone. "Who?"

"The guy who was looking at you like he wants to fuck you, talking you up on the stairs," he snipes, and for once, you're completely flummoxed, mind slow to work and realize he was referring to today when Luke was talking to you platonically. "Listen…just…let me make it up to you. I know I fucked up. All I want is you, to make it right, preciosa," Javier reins in his frustration and finally says what he'd originally wanted to tell you. "Just…give me a chance."

Your heart swells and wrings sharply in your chest. "It's late, and I'm tired. I-I just…" you feel like your words are knotting in your throat. With much effort, you murmur, "I'm not sure. I can't ask you to do anything…"

Javier is quiet for a beat, and you think he's going to scoff and hang up – that he'll become the flippant, pitiless agent you'd seen him be towards others when he doesn't get his way.

Instead, Javi unflinchingly declares, "Yes, you can. Never think that. Don't ever think you can't tell me anything. You can ask whatever you need of me."

You're trembling, and you don't know why, but you feel ablaze inside your core, the grappling anger losing purchase in you now under the weight of such a promise.

Before you register it, though, you're murmuring, "You don't owe me anything." A sore feeling needles in your gut, especially when you hear him hum in displeasure. "Goodnight, Javi," you whisper, shutting your eyes and sighing in defeat.

You hear him give a tense exhale. "Goodnight, querida."

As soon as you hang up the phone, you immediately feel weak in the knees. How the hell does this man have such an effect on you?! You manage to wander into your bedroom while in turbulent thought, and realize the bed is still a rumpled mess. Sighing longingly, you toss your towel aside and stare at your reflection in the standing mirror. The welt on your sloping trapezius muscle is a mark you stare bemusedly at before noticing the shadowed fingertip-sized bruises at your hips. Tenderly touching them, you admire your reflection, wondering if you left anything on Javi that marks him just as illicitly.

That marks him as yours.

Crawling into bed, you lie on your back and sprawl into the sheets that are tangled in you and Javier, soft and secretive about the lust they carry. You find yourself reveling in it, now that the buzzy delight of the alcohol has marinated in and you can't stop thinking of Javi lying next to you from this morning. The way his eyes looked when you caressed his cheek. And the whimper that burned out of him when you nipped at him and set him alight with feral want.

Javi's brushing his fingertips on that hickey you left on his sloping muscle, just short of his shoulder, while he lies on the stiff bed at the crash house. The ceiling fan spins languidly above him – swirling the air to caress his nude form as he presses into the bruise and winces, licking his lips as he relives how you gave it to him. The room is warm, and his cigarette burns itself out in the ashtray as he trails his fingers down his stomach, pretending they're yours, while he shuts his eyes and pictures you naked and rollicking on your bed.

As you're thinking of him, replaying the exquisite murmurs of his voice as he claimed you this morning, Javi's envisioning you crumbling in divine bliss under him, focusing on how your lips parted in an ardent whimper of his name as he made you come – then remembering your soaked, glistening pussy as it wept his cum prettily.

Your hand is between your thighs, exploring the sore ache he left behind in your resilient muscles before wandering to your hidden bud and rubbing at it, wishing it was Javi's fingers, pressing down on it and pretending it's the blunt head of his cock flushing against it. The sigh that escapes you is frustrated, titillated, and your face burns as you long for being his again.

Javier's hand fists his ramrod dick and strokes while he bites the inside of his bottom lip to stifle his sounds of frustration, suppressing the needy groan that ebbs up into him from picturing you above him in all your nubile glory as you fuck yourself onto his cock and cry out.

The profound feeling of unquenchable need rises in you as you climax and whimper his name – gasp hiccupping in your throat as you chase more of this feeling alone, without him. You want him so bad, and the fact that you feel you can't have him leaves you forlorn in your afterglow.

If Javier knew you were aquiver, aching for him and trailing your fingers in your wetness right now, he'd combust – but instead, he's grunting from the effort of keeping his sounds of pleasure muted as he jerks himself off to the sinful things he has you doing in his mind. Things you've let him do already, and others he would beg you for. The filthy thought of you bowing in lascivious presentation for him on the bed, knees drawn apart and touching yourself as you plead, 'Please, Javi, please come inside me, baby!' has him losing all control. His balls draw up and tight, pleasure snapping taut in him as he whines a harsh sound and groans while he strokes himself off through his orgasm, painting his stomach with his hot cum and shivering at the sensation as he keeps mindlessly fucking up into his hand, humming your name over and over.

Wrecked and spent, he breathes hard as he lays there, thinking about you. The feral part of his mind dimly registers that his cum is dripping messily over his knuckles while he groans and recovers, idly loosening his hand across his softening dick. His lips are dry from gasping and panting, and drowsily, he stares down at himself and swears. He usually reserves this need for relief and release to when he's in the shower, so there's no mess to deal with, but now, exhausted and spent, Javi draws circles in it, catching his breath as he pretends they're your fingers.

He could've gotten his needs met, easily. But the desire to be with anyone else was not there, and instead he'd called you, stubborn in his conviction and wanting badly to earn your grace again. It was maddening – infuriating how he hadn't even thought of why he'd slept with Elisa, or really, any of his informants, before. Was it about him? Something he yearned to quell, or get high on – a means to get off, and nothing else? If so, had any of his trysts meant anything before? Or was it just after being blessed with your dazzling aura – your elegantly daring power and vivaciousness – that left him marooned to only ever seeking the gravitation between you both over the hollow carnal delights of others?

It was like a revelation – he could see the empty meaning now in all his bullshit. His whoring around under the ruse of seeking leads, the flippant way he'd looked at bedding an informant when the whim suited him? It's no wonder you'd been pointedly offended by that. The thought of you doing that – sleeping with anyone else and telling him it didn't mean anything to you? Hell, even if it did mean something, Javi couldn't stand the thought of you being with someone else.

Brooding now, Javier manages the effort to collect and clean himself up of his heady mess and flops himself back onto the bed, succumbing to the fitful sleep he manages when he's not in your arms, and taking solace in the tempestuous dreams of you and giving zero resistance to his longing.

As he drifts, you're staring into the void of the shadows, tipsiness abated and reproachful thoughts pulling your emotional tethers. Had he never mentioned you going over to his place, would any of that gone down today? You wonder, and the fact you keep coming up with a resounding no, upsets you. But then a vicious part of you rails, What are you even mad about? Had he given you the heads up, would that have changed how you feel?!

What was the point of the heads up – that one courtesy you'd asked him for, anyway? Even if he had called and told you what was happening and disclosed he was cooped up with a female informant, would you have broken things off? Could you have turned your feelings off and been understanding of him potentially sleeping with another woman?

You're suddenly so tired, feeling overwhelmed by the burden of your own making.

All you know as you drift off to sleep, is that you love Javi – and that is a tumultuous thing inside of you, when you pride yourself on being reasonable and resolute.

You go through the motions the next couple days, and before you realize it, you're walking into the presentation for the head of Mil Group. You're prepared and confident – dressed to kill and knowing it when all the fellas look up and stare in varying degrees of intrigue. Yes, you're not opposed to using your feminine wiles just as much as your brain, and if a chic chemise blouse, tight black skirt, bare legs and high pumps is going to help you get your points across, fine by you.

The colonel is a shrewd-yet-cynical man with a scathing sense of humor, full of opinions and the bravado with which to bark them out. Even he's taken aback by how you take it in stride and punt right back to a particular cavalier remark with, "No, I don't expect you boys to itemize your interrogations in real-time while the guy is still strapped to the table, sir, but I do suggest it'll be easier to share intel via secure networks rather than typed up dossiers that can grow legs and walk right the hell out of here."

His demeanor immediately changes, and when he gives you a wily smile, you get down to business. By the end, he's shaking your hand and insisting, "You call me Lou, got it? Anything you need to get this show on the road with the fellas, you let me know."

You give him the respectful squeeze of your hand before thanking him, and just as you and Ellis turn to leave, you pause and put your hand on your hip, pivoting to ask, "Would it be bold to invite you to happy hour, Lou?"

"Hah!" the colonel grins and sees Samson balk. "Bold as brass, missy. I'll be there. How come you jackasses have never invited me before, eh?"

You snicker at seeing Luke shoot you that haplessly disarmed look of his before you and Ellis abscond and leave the Mil Group guys to banter with their superior.

As soon as you're both in the elevator, you high five and celebrate. "You are a meeting assassin, kid!" Ellis chortles as he squeezes your shoulders and gives them a playful shake as you walk off the elevator and stroll to your department. "The boss is gonna flip—"

"Well now, we're only getting started though. There's still CIA to convince—" you try and deflect, brushing your hair behind your ear as you flounce to your desk and freeze at seeing a magical cup of your favorite coffee sitting by your purse, as if conjured by the universe.

You blink at it, and Ellis maneuvers around you. "Oh, this dude is good," he muses and sits at his desk.

"What?" you shake your head and blink bemusedly at him. "…Who?"

"I guess Mil Group trains in stealth after all. Samson must really be priming to ask you out," he chimes and reclines in his chair, giving you a lopsided smile.

You sit at your desk and set your things aside before picking up the coffee cup, feeling a menagerie of memories flooding you, sense of déjà vu as scalding as the brew you sip tentatively, brows furrowed.

Javi was in town, and trying to bribe you with your weakness – delicious coffee. Damn him.

You don't know that as you're stewing at his sneaky audacity, he and Steve are heading into a post-mortem with CIA and Mil Group after the ineffectual meeting with Gaviria earlier that morning. Knowing that Carrillo is currently deploying his men to a raid, Javi just crosses his arms and lets Steve hash things out with the fellas as they all chat in Lou's office. Once all three sides have gotten on the same page – somewhat – about where they stand, they start to lope out of the colonel's office when Javier catches sight of a familiar-looking report on his desk.

"Interesting reading, Lou. Didn't peg you for the computer science type," Javi drawls and gestures flippantly to the bound presentation takeaway.

"Hah, unless you can drink or fuck it, I doubt you're able to peg much of anything, Peña," Lou snipes back brashly and crosses his arms. "That right there is the future. And it comes with an oh-so-sweet bonus of getting some eye candy while these knuckleheads next door learn something worth while."

Steve snorts. "I've been hearing about agencies getting worn down into that pilot program. Nice to see you're not all stone, Lou."

"You pricks are gonna have to fall in line eventually. That little miss from C.O. is ferocious and smart as a fucking whip. Right, Samson?" Lou calls out to his bullpen, where the guy Javi saw talking to you the other day looks up and snickers an affirmative. "Boy, if I was 10 years younger and two ex-wives lighter, I'd be making my play for that one," Lou remarks crassly before he gestures for Steve and Javi to fuck off, deadpanning, "Don't you two have somewhere to stakeout or something?"

Javier is surly as he and Steve sit in the office, waiting for Carrillo's check-in call. Once they do get the bad news, he's positively sullen. With all the professional fuckery aside – so to speak – he doesn't think there's much he can salvage today other than his hope in getting to see you later. He had managed to get the coffee to your desk thanks to his connection in the building, but he hadn't actually considered approaching you yet. Not when he was pretty sure you would verbally eviscerate him for engaging you in conversation at work.

Sulking at the thought that you might not be interested in seeing him when he shows up, as he's planned, later tonight, he's open to Steve trying to convince him to drown their sorrows at the bar for a bit before he goes home to Connie and has to pretend he isn't irascible from work. He agrees, but says they're driving separate, making the excuse that he's got to head back to the office after to finish some paperwork.

He doesn't expect to see you at the bar, sitting in the booth at the back corner across from the countertop that most of the regulars are hanging at. As he and Steve park themselves at the far end of the bar, you are rapt in conversation with Lou and Ellis while Samson is nursing his beer and staring at you covertly. Javier sees the look in his eyes, and burns with jealousy. You haven't even looked up or noticed him, and while he's able to participate in his conversation with Steve, listening to his partner vent and exchanging a comment when necessary, Javier is stewing, draining his glass of the whiskey at a hasty pace, even for him.

"—You know those CIA guys well, right? What's one gotta do to get a serious meeting with them?" you posit to Lou, sipping your drink as he chuckles.

"Well, they don't play well with others. The guy I huddle up with on interagency ops is keen on new tech. I can put in a word," the steely-eyed colonel muses as he snaps his fingers and gestures for the waitress to come with another round.

When you glance up to give her your order, you see Javi sitting at the bar talking to Steve, and it takes every cell in your body to hone that practiced cool façade, eyes remaining measured and expression aloof, even when his smoldering coffee-brewed eyes glance your way.

You manage to carry your end of the conversation without incident, even seemingly endear yourself more to the head of Mil Group when he offhandedly praises, "—Your father's reputation precedes him. Glad you take after him," and you smile reservedly and curtly thank him for saying so. No frills, no boasting. You just clink your glass with his before repeating the action with Ellis and Luke.

Javier is practically chain smoking as the night wears on, and after Steve pats him on the back and announces he's gotta go before he's too smashed to drive, he nods as his partner pays his tab and strolls out of the bar with a yawn about seeing him tomorrow. By that time, Lou has long gone home, leaving so his men could 'let their hair down,' as he'd quipped. Only you, Ellis and Luke remain now, and you can feel Javi's gaze rake across you.

"I think it's time to call it a night," you announce and reach for your wallet to pay your half, when Ellis blows a raspberry and nudges you out of the booth so he can go settle the tab. "Oh, c'mon—"

"Nope, not hearing it! I'm paying," Ellis declares, and glances sidelong as he sees Luke snicker and reach for your elbow to give it a silly squeeze. "Oh, I just remembered – I had to go get something for the wifey! Hey, Samson, can you give her a ride to her place for me?"

You give Ellis a bewildered look, communicating, 'What the hell, man!' with your eyes as Luke retorts, "Sure, no problem!"

"N-No, that's alright. I don't want to impose. I can take a cab—" you begin to politely refute, when Luke leans back into the wood of the booth and raises his brows sardonically at you.

"As if I'd let that happen. It's after 10pm. I really don't mind at all," Luke reassures, tenor cool and affable.

"Awesome! Thanks, man. I'll see yah tomorrow, kid," Ellis exclaims as he backpedals away and ridiculously rushes off as if he wasn't totally duffing you onto Samson for some demented attempt to pair you off.

You're so annoyed you almost forget that Javier was at the end of the bar, but when you glance back, he's no longer at the stool he'd been at, and most of the regulars have filtered out. Inwardly frowning, you sigh and finish your drink with Luke. "I'm so sorry. Ellis is a dork. I'll get him back tomorrow," you joke, relaxing back into the amiable exchange with him.

Once you've both finished and headed out, you decide this isn't the worst thing in the world. You're both pleasantly chatting while he's driving, not picking up on any ulterior motives from the hazel-eyed mid-westerner with the jawline for days, until Luke hits you with it: "When's the last time someone's taken you out to dinner?"

You feel heat rise to the back of your neck as you glance over and give him a soft smile. "Don't go thinking that you're going to take me out just because the colonel was joshing you about it—"

"I was more hoping you'd let me take you out," Luke remarks smoothly, and glances at you as he pulls up to the curb in front of your complex's entranceway. "Can I walk you up?"

You feel a bit tangled up, not wanting to be rude or turn him down too harshly. Not when he's been so…great. Yours eyes linger on his agreeable, hazel gaze as you nod in assent.

It's a breezy, temperate night as Luke escorts you in a strolling pace up to your apartment, chatting good-naturedly along the way and not cajoling or pressuring you for an answer to his proposal. Once you're at your door, he waits for you to key in, flick on the lights, and be beyond your threshold to smile at you and muse, "Goodnight, Miss Cuba Libre."

You can't help yourself. "Is that it? So much for your negotiation tactics," you tease wryly.

He grunts, expression quirking charismatically. "Heh, well, I gotta keep you on your toes. You never know when I'll surprise you – disarm you and get the answer I want," Luke chuckles and smirks as he makes a farewell salute gesture and lopes off.

You snicker and close the door, smiling to yourself. Putting your purse and keys down, you lope to the fridge and get something to drink while you ruminate. After all, you meant it when you said you don't date anyone from work, and your work puts you all over the embassy – across agencies, departments, and offices, so that pretty much excludes all possible suitors. But should you be entertaining anything with anyone right now – interagency or otherwise?

Placing the glass in the sink, you're about to yank off your heels and unbutton your blouse, when three swift knocks rap on the door. It's only been a minute or so since Luke strode off, so huffing amusedly, you stride over – heels clicking across the tiled floor as you waltz over to the door and open it. "Well, that was quick—"

Javier is standing there, hand propped against the outer frame of the door and expression etched in surly discontent. You are taken aback, and for some reason, the intense look in his eyes has a nervous tickle skittering up your spine. He's wearing a navy suit, white dress shirt and blue tie, ensemble looking a bit worn and rumpled after the long day he's had, and you can smell the perfume of whiskey and cigarette smoke curling off him, softened only by his cologne and the mints he angrily chewed on as he made his way to your place.

Before you've even had a chance to stammer your jumble of questions, he's barging into your apartment and pushing the door closed dismissively behind himself, searing gaze never leaving yours as you find yourself back pedaling to put some space between you both. You're not sure why, but the tension that springs up in you is conflicted-yet-thrilled, and you'd blame it on the alcohol if the way Javier glares at you right now didn't have lewd glee tingling through you.

"Javi—"

"Tell me what you want."

Thrown by his surly question, you pause and eye him defiantly. "What?"

"That wasn't a difficult question. What do you want?" he rumbles, baritone low and clipped as he stands to loom over you now with his hands on his hips. "Because if it's to make me furious and jealous, you've fucking succeeded, querida."

You are stunned by the accusation. "You better be drunk right now to think you can come over here like you have any right! Recriminándome con pendejadas," you snap, eyes blazing with outrage as you point your finger at his chest and scold, "I don't owe you a damn thing! Let alone an answer to your asinine question."

His expression only hardens at that while his dark eyes flare with something ardent. "I am not drunk," he grunts tersely and grabs your wrist before you can recede it from pointing at his chest. "What I am, though, is at my wits end with you. Just tell me you don't fucking want to see me anymore—"

Wringing your wrist out of his grip as you scoff and storm around him towards the door, you're yanking it open as you sneer, "I am in no mood for your cabronerías tonight, Javier, so—"

Javi's hand effortlessly slams the door closed and you whirl on him, only to realize he's crowded you against it, boxing you in with the hand he hasn't moved from the door while the other is planted at his hip as he leans close. Even in your heels, he looms over you, and that sick thrill is twisting excitedly in your core and sending heat to flutter between your legs.

He exhales dramatically through his nose, and his brows are knitted in frustration as his gaze roves your face, watching for a reaction. When you just blink up at him and part your lips, he knows he has your attention. "Just tell me: Do you want him?"

The pitch of his voice, hard and edged, has you burning now, and you raise your brows at him. "Javi—"

"No, tell me if you want him," he growls, and the hand at his hip reaches to cup your jaw possessively so he can pin your gaze to his and not let you scoff or glance away in a snit. "Do you want him to fuck you? Because I know he wants you—"

"If I did, would it matter?" you counter suddenly, defiant and flustered that he's so wound up over something he has no right to, what – guilt you over? "If you can be with your putas informantes and have it not matter, I can do as a see fit with whomever I want!"

The look in his eyes is rapacious, the set of his mouth hardening as he trails his hand from your jaw down your throat, groping down your sternum and trailing lower to caress possessively up your skirt before cupping your crotch. You gasp in surprise and stand on your tippy toes in the heels as he rubs lasciviously along your hidden seam through your panties. He feels how wet you are, and groans, savoring how you arch against the door and press your hands back against it as you blush and press your plush lips together.

"Does he get you this wet?" he queries against your temple, and you reflexively clench your thighs, but Javi keeps his hand at your pussy, rubbing his deft fingers along it and pressing his thumb with precision over your hidden clit. "Does he know my cock's been here, how I've filled you with my cum – how you've let me have you?" he husks out and with every inflection of a word, he strums his touch pointedly at your cunt, getting turned on by your squirming against his fingers and how you get soaked from his filthy interrogation.

"N-No!" you gasp, eyes hooded with tense desire, gaze getting foggy with lust and the depravity of such questioning. "There's n-nothing going on—" you hitch out and whimper when Javi's other hand finally leaves its vigil at the door to bury in the back of your hair and tug firmly so your neck has to crane and expose your delicate throat to his hungry mouth.

Kissing up along the column of your throat, Javi's lips linger to ghost along yours as he mutters jealously, "Then why were you flirting with him – letting him touch you?"

Even with all the delicious foreplay he's wrecking you with, that sharp outrage snaps powerfully in you. Grabbing a fistful of his dress shirt and yanking him close, you counter daringly, "Because he makes me feel good and special and I like the attention," pausing only to bat your lashes and hook your other hand in the edge of his belt and tug as you add in a murmur, "And I don't have to compete for his desire, unlike I do with you."

Javier is floored with a tumult of frustration, arousal, envy and desire at your goading charge, and when he snakes his hand in your hair to clasp the nape of your neck, you think he's going to push back and reject you, and the anxiety leaps like a spark inside you, but gets snuffed immediately when he pulls you close and presses his forehead to yours.

"Seeing you with him…I hated it. I know I don't deserve you, but never doubt that I want you – that I need you, preciosa," Javi murmurs, voice dipping an octave when he tells you he needs you, making you shiver. "And I don't just mean this," he elaborates and flexes his fingers against your damp panties. "Which I fucking love, by the way. I mean you. All of you."

You feel bowled over, alight and gushing with a flood of emotions that have your stubborn will withering away to reveal the molten pining at your center.

"Then take me, Javi," you whisper, and grip his suit jacket, pulling him to press up against you as you affectionately nudge your forehead to his.

Javier hums and captures your lips in a heated kiss that quickly becomes torrid as he wraps both arms around your waist and pulls you against him. He tastes of spearmint and smokiness, and you hum into his mouth as his tongue twirls around yours.

"Mmm, you'll be mine – all mine, then?" he grouses against your jaw as he presses you up against the door and grips both hands at your ass as you arch and fidget on the tippy toes of your pumps when he shoves his knee between your thighs.

"Only if you belong to me, chavón," you purr against his cheek and groan when he presses his hips into the cradle of yours.

"I'm all yours, querida," he declares in a reedy hum and revels in how you tighten your hands on him and kiss along his jaw as you start tugging his jacket off his shoulders.

He lets you, then shrugs out of it and tosses it blindly somewhere in your living room as you hook your arms around his shoulders and make him meet your hungry kiss while he's backpedaling you away from the door to steer you down the hall. Just as you're in the hallway, Javi pushes you up against the wall and drags his palms down your hourglass figure to settle at your hips while he sucks kisses into your neck. You're about to start tugging at your skirt so you can reach past your knees and yank a heel off when he stops you.

"No. keep 'em on," he orders gruffly, tone velvet over steel as he pulls his tie loose and free before he kneels at your feet. You get depravedly excited, and are about to complain that your feet are killing you when he wraps his hands around your hips and presses his face to your womb before nuzzling down to where your mound is, hidden by the skirt. He breathes in a hearty inhale, relishing your heady perfume, mouth watering as he hums and drags his hands to push your skirt up. "Wanted to do this to you at the bar. Make everyone see how this pretty pussy belongs to me," he growls.

You whimper out in excitement, sinful thrill winding your arousal up at the image of Javi eating you out in front of the whole bar while you stand precariously pinned to the wall and teeter in your high heels. But when your hand on his shoulder feels it square up, you snap your glazed gaze down to see why he's stopped. When he flints his intense brown eyes to yours, your pulse races and you feel heat creep up your face.

"You wore these?" he grumbles hotly and drags his thumbs down your lace-covered mound. "You wore these for him?" The biting edge of something feral clawing free in him has you trembling under his hands.

"N-No. I j-just wanted to feel s-sexy—" you find yourself stammering breathily, blushing at how embarrassing you must sound and how wet you're getting under his scrutiny.

Javier knows you're not lying, and the way your clit is throbbing against his thumb tells him you're so turned on by how jealous he is – by the surly desire you're stoking in him. He grips your hips and relishes your little sound of excitement as he buries his face at your lace-covered mound, mouthing you over your soaked panties. Your other hand goes from resting against the wall at your back to burying in his hair as you cry out at his possessive suckling of warm, wet heat over the hood of your clit and leaving a damp spot where his tongue was.

"Hmph, had to hear about how everyone wants to fuck you, see them leer at you while you sat there looking fucking stunning—" he's grousing as he finally sits back on his knees and peels your sullied lacy panties off to pull them down your shapely legs and off your pump-clad feet. "Driving me fucking crazy, having to watch you flirt with that pendejo—" he grumbles covetously as he nuzzles your mound, inhaling your delectable fragrance and enjoying how your soft curls brush over his moustache when he presses his nose against you.

You're quivering under the onslaught of his possessive rumbles and hungry oral havoc, so when he purposely blows cool air against your warm and gleaming pussy, you hiccup a sound and stiffen above him, fingers twitching at his shoulder and in his hair as you challenge, "You are exaggerating! O-Only want to h-have me when you can't—"

Javier is on his feet and manhandling you to whirl around to face the wall before you've even registered the shift. You yelp airily when he nudges your feet apart the way you imagine he would to a suspect he's about to frisk, but instead of cuffing your arms back, he grabs them and presses your wrists to the wall, splaying your hands to be palm-flat against the solid surface. Your brain is misfiring – unable to think or cobble together the sense to protest when he has his hands groping down your back to grip your hips and force you to find your center of gravity on your shaky heels.

"I can't?" he rumbles against the nape of your neck, causing your skin to tingle and your nipples to jut against the lace of your bra as he hauls your hips to stick your ass out so he can rut his crotch against it. "What do you call this, hermosa?" he purrs as he forces you to feel how rock-hard he is in his pants for you, seeking the heat hidden by your skirt. "Eres una malcriada atrevida," he husks, adding in a provocative growl, "Desafiándome, when you know you're fucking wanted. Want to have you all the time."

The whole time he's telling you this, Javi is grinding his clothed cock into you, and you're burning with need now, feeling your clit buzzing and thighs aching from flexing to stay balanced on your high heels. "Ja-Javi—" you begin to whimper when he suddenly grabs the back of your skirt and yanks the zipper down so he can hurriedly shimmy the tight garment off you to rumple at your feet so you can kick it away. Before you can get bashful at being naked from the waist down yet again in this hallway, Javier's hands hike up your blouse at the sides and tug it off. He gets lost watching you toss your hair about and going to reach behind yourself to unfasten the bra.

"Hands against the wall."

You gasp, feeling your core gush arousal through your tingling tissue from his gravelly order, placing your palms back to the wall before you've registered the submissive imperative. Just as you're feeling heat flush up your body, Javier is snapping the clasp of your bra undone and crowding you from behind as his big, warm hands fondle your breasts. He allows you to shed it to the floor so you can be completely naked now, and the lurid thrill he gets when you put your hands back to the wall without being told this time has him straining against his fly.

"Fucking beautiful," he exhales admiringly behind you, hands skating down the planes of your back before settling at your hips. "You're temptation incarnate, cariño," he murmurs at your spine before planting a kiss there and lowering to trail hot yearning down your body. The softness of his mouth's doting caresses and the tickle of his moustache earn a splendid sigh from you. Then, he's on his knees and worshipping you with his mouth, which makes your toes curl in the heels.

When his hands grip the supple flesh of your ass and his tongue languidly laves through your folds from behind, you warble a mewl and pant against the wall, eyes shutting at how depravedly salacious this is – on how sinful and alive you feel as you feel Javi's moan of approval vibrate against your cunt. "Oh god—Ja-Javi," you gasp out, hands grappling for purchase as your thighs protest and calves strain from being balanced on your tippy toes while in the high heels for so long. His tongue responds by flicking wickedly against your clit before drawing tight pressure against it with the tip of his scandalously deft appendage. You moan and twitch, feeling so close to coming when he suddenly drags the flat of his tongue from your dripping pussy up to lick every sinful inch of you before planting a wet kiss above the cleft of your ass.

You keen a needy whimper, whining when he leaves you on the edge of the precipice to fidget in unrealized bliss after he suddenly slaps your ass and stands. You squeak a gasp, more from shock than from any pain, and are about to whine when Javier hums, keeping his hand on your round and firm cheek and kneading it as he licks his lips.

He groans at the sight of you. "You want me yet, querida?" he poses, voice melted gravel as he squeezes the fleshy curve of your ass while his other hand affectionately brushes your hair away from your shoulder so he can gaze at your profile and watch you pant. "Want me to fill that pretty little pussy with my cock?"

You're cheeks are burning as you lick your parched lips and nod, not trusting the pitch of your voice to not come out as a whiny mewl. He lightly swats your ass, and you jolt and exclaim in surprise, eyes flashing defiantly over your shoulder at him. "Javier—"

"Tell me you want it," he demands in an unyielding tone, eyes dark with lust and expression etched in surly hunger. His hands settle at the small of your back, fingers spanning to curve around your waist and pinning you in place, thumbs pressing encouragingly there as he commands, "You're going to talk to me and tell me what you want, mi amor."

The dizzying flurry of desire, thrill and wanton glee that tangles in your core from the rare pet name and the filthy command is disorienting, and you find yourself wanting to melt into the floor at the yearning darkening Javi's smoldering eyes. "Y-Yes, Javi," you whisper heatedly, pitch airy and excited. When he gives you a purposeful look and raises a brow, you hitch out, "W-Want you inside me."

It makes Javi smirk before he leans close and brushes a kiss to the back of your shoulder. "Good. Now…come," he murmurs and takes one of your wrists in-hand and pulls you along, leading the way into your bedroom, flicking on the light switch, and bathing the room in soft light from the lamp on the nightstand. When you obediently let him place you to stand in front of your mirror – which you had left pivoted in its corner so it could reflect the bed – Javi stands behind you as he drawls, "You see that?"

You blink lustfully, brows knitting in confusion. "I-see what?" you mumble, eyes pleadingly staring at his in the reflection.

When Javier gropes his hands from behind you to wrap around your waist and caress you possessively to him, he murmurs hotly against your temple, "You. How fucking divine you look…how you're all mine."

You dimly realize he's looking at the faint marks that are barely perceptible now along the swelling contour of your hips, the light welt half-healed on your sloping shoulder muscle, as he brushes a kiss over it. You look voluptuous, tits perked and round as he touches them, soft curls of your mons pubis not able to conceal how flushed and drenched you are now after all of Javier's possessive mayhem.

When he traces the shape of a bruise and realizes it's in the perfect shape of the pad of his thumb, Javier shudders. The way his eyes lower to your throat, how longingly he looks when he nuzzles you? It scorches you with realization as well.

Javi loves you. Javi wants you to want him. And most shocking of all, Javi yearns for you to acknowledge it.

"I can't stop thinking about you."

He tenses at your confession, hands stilling in their worship of your form to glance up and see you staring right at him in the mirror. Yours eyes are soft, loving, and the tremulous purse of your mouth entrances him as you murmur, "I don't want anyone else but you, Javi."

The sheer fact that you were offering this up to him freely, when you weren't prone to divulging any kind of heartfelt sentiment, let alone admit your feelings, has him astounded and buzzing now. You see it in his eyes, and your expression becomes sultry as you reach your arm to anchor at the nape of his neck and pull him close so you can ghost a kiss across his lips before whispering, "I want to be yours, always."

The hand you rested over his at your waist feels his fingers flex with the impulse to clutch you possessively, and you get lost in his mouth capturing yours while he holds you flush against him. You can feel the hard, beseeching ridge of his cock pressing against you through his clothes, and you want him inside you. But first, you have to expertly pry away from his arms in order to spin to face him and stare up at him through your dark lashes.

"Can I take these damn things off now?" you ask innocently, and glance at him imploringly.

Javier gives you an appraising, possessive once-over before huffing wryly as he toys with the weight of your breast and pinches your chin so he can tip your face up to gaze at his charming, coffee-brewed eyes openly.

"No."

He sees the flare of defiance in your eyes, but you press your plush lips together and try another tactic. "Can I undress you?" you purr your query, caressing your hands up his chest to tug at the top button of his white dress shirt. When you see want brim in his eyes, you press seductively, "I want to show you how much I've missed you."

Javi's eyes burn with intrigue, but the rest of him is chiseled and resolute. With a slow lick of his lips, he disarms you by tracing his thumb along the plush flesh of your bottom lip as he grouses, "Beg."

That sick, deviant thrill sparks like out of control fireworks inside you, instantly leaving you debased and singed with lust. "Make me," you challenge in a breathy murmur, shoulders quivering slightly when he bites his lip and stares down at you.

"Very well," he growls and suddenly picks you up and tosses you onto your bed. You squeal in surprise as you bounce on the surface, expecting him to pounce on top of you and ravish the insolence right out of you. Instead, he lopes to the foot of the bed, rolling up the cuffs of his shirtsleeves to his elbows and watching you the way a predator would size up his prey as he snatches his watch off his wrist and tosses it unseeingly to your dresser. Dimly, you realize you are the naked and high-heel-clad prey in this scenario, flat on your back with your thighs pressed together and tits heaving from your panting, anxious breath.

Your pupils are blown out in lustful anticipation, tracking his movements as he kicks his shoes off and sets them aside before strolling back to the foot of the bed. You can plainly see the thick bulge of his erection straining the front of his navy pants – watch as his fingers press to his lips before pinching his forefinger and thumb to snag at his bottom lip and pinch with veiled impatience, and are tingling with titillated desire as to why he isn't already on top of you and driving you into a needy orgasm. "Javi—"

"Show me how you touch yourself when you're in bed, thinking of me."

Your eyes widen, lust-dumb but still sheepish at the mere suggestion. "W-What?! Why? J-Just…just come to bed," you attempt, rambling as you sit up and gesture for him to come close. He just watches you with those scrutinizing, possessive eyes, and you're turned into a nervous bundle of unrequited desire. "Javi, please—"

"No. You had your chance to beg," Javier remarks, baritone rough as he mutters aloofly, "Now, you're gonna be a good girl and touch yourself while I watch, and if you do a good job getting yourself off, I'll give you my cock."

You are indignantly flustered, but the look in his eyes is flinty, promising something far more withholding if you defy him again. But, you can't help but haggle, "If I tell you what I've thought of while I do it, will you let me watch you take your clothes off while I touch myself?"

Javier's loins burn at that, and you see his shoulders square with enticement towards the proposition. But his chin dips down, and his stare is searing as he puts his hands on his hips and mutters, "You're in no position to compromise now."

Your cunt squeezes at his irrevocable tone, and you're so absolutely flustered that you internally debate if you'd be quick and strong enough to just pounce on him and tackle him into sexual submission. "L-Let me kiss you while I do it—?"

"No," he laconically refuses and is getting very frustrated – standing there warring for dominance with you. But he knows now how much you like it when he grabs you and dominates the hell out of you, so he wants to wear that haughty fire in you down just enough to see if it'll get you off just as much as he knows it'll drive him wild to see.

You huff a whine and scamper up on the bed to glower at him, and deliberate about taking your heels off and chucking them at him, but you're too far gone to want to risk pissing him off. With a salacious sigh, you toss your hair and flopped onto the propped pillows, making a big show about how you're not happy with him, but when you fondle your breast and snake your other hand to your dripping pussy, you can't help watch him as you start teasing yourself with your fingers. You're so turned on, horny and frustrated that you exhale as you put more pressure on your clit and grind against your hand while you pinch your nipple hard and bite your lip from the tantalizing sensation.

Javier's eyes are riveted on you, unable to linger on your fingers rubbing in your wetness when you're craning your head back and staring under hooded lids at him while you pant and writhe. Your lips are parted and he can see you use your tongue toy with the lusty whimper that escapes you as you close your eyes and concentrate on the filthy things you love to have Javi do to you in your fantasies.

"Talk to me, querida."

You let out a shaky breath as you press the heel of your hand against your clit and squeeze your knees together, uncaring that the stupid heels are digging into your bedspread. "Please, Javi…" you exhale tensely and arch as you start to pretend he's pressing his fingers into you. "T-This isn't enough—n-need you," you protest airily as you rut against your hand and lick your lips. "I-I'll be good, just please—"

Javier completely miscalculated this. He's fucking aching, loins knotted with desire and cock throbbing at the shameless sight of you writhing in those 'fuck me' pumps and nothing else on your bed. The sight will keep him company on his loneliest nights until the day he dies, but right now? He just wants to fuck you with abandon, but he'd started this lewd tug of war for dominance, and when you splay your legs open and show him how you're drenched and desperate for the fill of his cock, he groans. "Fuck, querida," he begins to rumble, and stops himself, clenching his hands into fists and worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. "You fuck yourself thinking of me?"

"Y-yes, yes," you whimper heatedly, rolling your hips as you finally feel yourself getting close, eyes squeezed shut as you pretend your dragging your cunt against his cock. "D-did the night we fought," you admit, feeling yourself burn with needy delight. "W-was so mad at you," you ramble, and then confide, "But w-wanted you so bad." Your cheeks are aflame from your blush, and you're too coy now to open your eyes when you admit, "Only came when I t-thought about you filling me with your cum—" You hear Javi make a strangled sound of frustration, and if your eyes were open, you'd see how dark they are now, how he's shaking with bristling restraint. "Ja-Javi, please touch me?" you cry desperately, feeling the pleasure begin to flare in your core—

You're suddenly being yanked to glide across the surface of the bed by your ankles and with an excited sound, you snap your eyes wide and watch Javi loom over you at the edge of the bed where he's hauled you to so you can stare up doe-eyed at him as he rushes to unbuckle his belt. Sitting up, you go to unbutton and unzip his pants when he growls, "Hands on the bed."

Your pussy is aching, fluttering with another aborted climax, so it clenches sharply and makes you shiver as you do as you're told and splay your hands on the bed behind you. "Javi," you murmur and arch your back so you can angle your pelvis raunchily to spread your legs wide and hold your knees up. "Please, I want you inside me—"

"If you don't behave and stay still, I'm going to spank that sexy ass and leave that pretty pussy empty," he thunders in a husky tone, and you shudder, eyes finally flashing with submission as you sit there and pant excitedly. "Good girl," he grunts and starts unbuttoning his shirt, slow and deliberately tortuous as you watch with eager frustration. "That night, I jerked off so hard thinking of you, I made a fucking mess all over myself," he volunteers shamelessly in a low tone. "Thought about how good it'd feel to fill you with cum…to watch it leak from that glorious pussy," he's confessing, pupils blowing out as he sees you positively tremble with yearning at the thought.

Finally shedding his dress shirt to be discarded to the floor, he lets his fingers pluck at the button of his trousers, getting off on how your eyes flicker to his crotch and your lips press together in anticipation. The sight would've been enough to make him burst, but sheer, sadistic will is grounding him now. "Maybe…maybe I'll jerk off right now," he suggests lasciviously to you, reveling in how you try to clench your thighs before remembering his warning and stopping yourself. "Make you watch – not give you permission to touch yourself," he proposes, and you actually tuck your chin against your chest and exhale a stuttered breath.

When he finally starts working the zipper of his fly down, you can't help murmur incandescently, "Please, mi amor—!"

And he fumbles, train of thought crashing and derailing in him as he exhales a shaky breath and wars with himself, hands fisting at his sides from how forcefully he has to rein in the impulse to grab you and ruin you – to ravish you with brutal lust. He groans your name before gritting out, "Dime lo que necesitas."

"A ti…nada más que ti."

He burns with savage relief and primal yearning at your unwavering declaration, and you watch his muscles tighten and his abdomen flex as he relents in his quest for dominance when you sit up and kiss his torso before pressing your cheek into his solar plexus as you encircle your arms around his waist. "Te quiero a ti, Javi."

He caresses his hands covetously up your back, along your shoulders, cupping your head and leaning into your embrace as he exhales shakily, and buries his face into the top of your head as he tries to regain some semblance of steel within himself. What you've said – it has two possible meanings. One could be, 'I want you, Javi,' while the other meaning – while not likely where you were leaning to – wields power and punches the breath out of him: 'I love you, Javi.'

"Lay back, mi amor," he murmurs against your hair, nudging you gently to lean back. When you furrow your brows and gaze with open concern, he smirks. "Go ahead. Acuéstate, hermosa."

You do so, tingly and buzzing with nervous anticipation, shimmying back so the backs of your knees rest against the edge of the mattress. Staring up at him, Javi swears you look like a temptress, hair fanned about and eyes glossy with desire, plush lips parted in an uneven breath pattern that has your tits rising and falling in a pendulous sway, pussy glistening with slickened gleam and hands resting along side your shoulders. His hands go back to the front of his pants, and you watch with avid delight as he unzips them and finally undresses completely before you.

His cock is the hardest you've ever seen it, looking hot and heavy as you try not to squirm with the urge to sit up and put it in your mouth. Javi surprises you, though, when he doesn't immediately fall upon you with ravenous zeal and instead effortlessly grabs you up and adjusts you more comfortably on the bed. His hand maps up the length of a leg before lifting it at the calf so he can gently pivot your supple gam and take your high heel off. You sigh in relief, eyes softening as he tosses the shoe aside and kisses the arch of your foot reverently before practically cuffing his fingers around your ankle and giving a squeeze.

He watches your fingers twitch in your folded palms, and when he repeats the same action with your other foot, you feel static crackle in your mind with how lust-addled you are. Your heart squeezes in excitement when he finally kneels onto the bed and settles between the heavenly cradle of your open thighs, relishing how you sidle your legs around him and make an approving sound, smiling up at him when he finally touches you again. His hands worship your breasts – massaging the heavy mounds and toying delicately with your dusky nipples, watching them pebble harder and flush. The look he flicks down at you has the smile dissolving into an excited expression of want. His eyes are soulful again, but there's something heady heating the dark brown of his irises.

"Do y-you—do you want me…like this?" he murmurs tensely as he bucks his hips into your open pelvis and guides his thick, pulsing cock to rest against your mons, rubbing teasingly before he tugs himself through your drenched folds experimentally – without protection.

You moan and finally trail your hands up his arms, clasping them around his biceps as you hoarsely whisper, "Yes, just like that. Please, Javi. I n-need you inside me."

"All of me inside you?"

The hungry, hopeful pitch of his baritone literally strums something feral inside you, and you tighten your fingertips into his corded muscle. Seeing the primal hunger he's fighting back, the hesitant worry crinkle the corners of his eyes, you melt and reach a hand to caress your fingertips along his brow lovingly as you purr sultrily, "I'm yours, Javi. Give me all of you, mi amor."

He closes his eyes and lets you cup his cheek as he exhales and nudges your hand so he can plant a kiss to your palm. It's such a tender gesture that melds perfectly with the press of his ramrod cock pushing into your primed and aching entrance.

Every time, no matter what, it feels decadent and raw – like the addictive velvet feel of him breaching your tight heat to the hilt is something meant to be, but is ruinously divine all at once.

Javi always feels like he's grounded in heaven when he's inside you like this. The first time it scared the hell out of him, he can admit it now. It meant something that he'd been wary of letting curl freely in him and settle deep into his bones.

He knew he loved you. A different, ferocious feeling than the last time he came close to quantifying it, before it had him twisted up until he realized it wasn't so. Now? When he's inside you this way? And you're blossoming in relieved desire and affectionately pull him close? He is powerless – unable to dismiss it.

Javi loves you.

And you see it shine in his dark-brewed eyes as they smolder with concentration to not let that lurid part of himself burst free – the one he felt come dangerously close to railing into you like he would when he was taken over by primal, fierce urge. The debased urge he only indulged in with women he didn't care about, or were merely the means to debauched gratification. He's swirling with the simmering craving, and it's taking all his ruthless control not to give in.

"I'm not going to break, Javi."

His eyes flare, disarmed and trembling. How the fuck could you read his mind like that?! He suddenly tenses, and you smile dazzlingly up at him as you skillfully undulate your hips to drive him in deep into your clenching cunt. He shudders and braces his gripping hands on your thighs, grunting. "D-Don't want to lose control like that," he grouses edgily, and bows his head, trying to shield his pitiless expression from you. "I never want to hurt you."

You feel yourself fill with zinging heat at that, awash with a flaring pride and unquenchable craving to be everything he will ever need.

"¿Soy la única que quieres?"

Your sexy murmur snaps his gaze back to yours. "Sí. Tú eres la única," he husks instantly and leans down to kiss your lips. "Just you."

"Then fuck me like I'm all you want," you murmur provocatively and flick your tongue against his bottom lip and watch his expression melt into unabashed lust.

Javier pivots his hip to seamlessly pull his cock out before slamming it full-force into your pussy, and you swear you see light burst in the backs of your eyes as he hits something devastatingly amazing inside you. Fingertips latching into his flexing muscles, you meet his every thrust, cries of passion hiccupping from the force of his snapping against you while he groans roughly from the effort and pleasure. You're so wet already that the sounds are lewd and gratifying, emphasizing just how good Javi is pounding his cock into your cunt after what feels like a titillating fling of dominance and edging.

When he grabs your side-swept hair that has undulated thickly from your arching under him, and yanks it so he can crane your neck open to hungrily suckle hot, possessive kisses into your neck, you feel your walls squeeze greedily around him. Your fingertips dig into his back when he growls and spans his palm to the small of your back to tilt your pelvis up so he and barrel his cock deeper into your quivering sheath while the hand in your hair fists into your scalp and tugs, forcing your neck taut so he can bite the delicate skin where your neck and the sloping muscle meet.

The sound you make is wrecked and pitched, nails half-mooning into his skin and earning a guttural groan from Javi as he keeps fucking you. You're reduced to a whimpering, incandescent being that's holding on for dear life in the tempestuous onslaught of desire, but when your half-lidded gaze sees the poorly healed welt in the shape of your mouth on his bunched up, corded sloping muscle, you gasp, shocked and turned on to see he's yours.

Gasping, Javi arches when your nails dig into his back and his roiling thrusts stutter in rhythm when you latch your mouth onto the mark you left on him and that he's pressed and pinched at whenever he's jerked off since you gave it to him – which has been every day, at least twice a day since you'd fought, hence why it hadn't gotten a chance to heal like the marks he left on you. Your warm mouth suckles as you moan, and Javi's jaw drops as he stammers your name and begs, "—F-Fuck, bite it—"

You do – teeth fitting the mark perfectly and kneading into it before sucking hard, and he hoarsely moans as he fists his hands in the bedspread and unleashes his railing thrusts into your shuddering, flooding sheath just as your walls clamp down and ripple hungrily around every ridge of his cock as you come. Your cries of bliss are muffled against his shoulder after you lose all coordination and go taut under him and cling to him with your whole body.

Your brain snaps back just as Javi whimpers gruffly, "Oh fuck-fuck-fuck—" and slams home in you, head of his cock nestling so deep that when his hot cum surges out, your toes curl and your eyes rolls back – swearing he's reached deep into your being and is coating it with his essence. You are overcome by it, and are tossing your head back and wailing his name when he hunches you into the bed and keeps coming, pelvis pressing with rutting force until his balls are tight and clenched up against you as his cock fills you with his climax. "So good-fuck-mmmph—" you hear him stutter, breath harsh as he holds there and groans, pelvis jerking from every ripple of blissed aftershock.

Feeling bowled over, Javi finally collapses on top of you and exhales in awe. He only comes back down from the wrecked savagery of his orgasm when your hands clutch his shoulder blades and your ankles lock together around the small of his back, anchoring to keep him inside you.

"Te quiero, Javi."

Everything in him focuses in sharply and he shudders, face buried in the crook of your neck. "I d-don't…I don't deserve it," he exhales tensely, trembling.

You bury a hand in the back of his hair and tug, forcing him to crane his face up from hiding against your neck to look at your imperious-yet-pleased expression. Your half-lidded eyes are still glossy – corners gleaming with unshed tears from how powerful and soul wrenching your orgasm was. He's never seen you like this, and the devoted hunger that settles over his features has your insides aflutter.

"Just don't make me regret it, querido."

Javi gets punch-drunk in love at that. All morose doubt is blasted to dust by your radiant smile and loving press of your lips to his.

"You're everything," he murmurs and relaxes in your arms. You revel as he kisses you worshipfully while he praises in honeyed, canela-brined croons, "Fucking hermosa, sexy, smart, atrevida,brava…amazing."

You feel like you could burst with how awash you are with feeling at his words, and how he cuddles you close and stays inside you even though you're both sweaty and sticky, and his cum is spilling from your tight cunt every time you clench around his cock.

"Te amo, querida."

You feel your soul still at that, and stare wide-eyed into his brewed, soulful eyes and see them gleam with resolution.

The doubt has no chance at ebbing up in you. Javi told you something you never expected him to voice. Actions always spoke louder than words to you, so you were perfectly content with him never voicing anything so profound or consequential. He'd shown you enough of how he felt already, and that had meant a lot. But this? It has you laid bare and alight.

Your fingertips reach to caress his brow lovingly, tracing his handsome features reverently as you stare unguardedly into his warm gaze. He cherishes the way you look, catalogues it and yearns to see it more often. Nuzzling you, he presses a kiss to your cheek and murmurs, "You're too good for me—"

"Cállate con eso," you giggle and caress the side of his face. "Don't make me smack some sense into you—"

"Such a sassy malcriada," he huffs wryly and kisses you. "I knew you'd be trouble," he murmurs.

"Mira quien habla," you drawl in a sigh and go pliant in his arms, resting your shoulders back into the mattress and trying not to wince from the tense stretch of your muscles protesting achingly at you.

Javi huffs amusedly and nuzzles your cleavage before adjusting over you and receding his hips back once your legs have relaxed around him. You whimper despite yourself at the feeling of his cock pulling out of your fluttering sheath, and Javi's gaze goes from your expression to flick down between your bodies. He watches with avid fascination as his seed seeps out of your tight slit in thick, pearly rivulets while you shiver and blush. It's overwhelming how sexy the sight is to him – one he's not gotten to entertain with other lovers – and the way your plush lips press together and your eyes glow with demure amazement is intoxicating to him.

Your face flushes, nervous. "D-Don't worry," you find yourself murmuring. "I'm careful—"

Javier glances up and realizes you're totally misreading his avid intrigue. "I trust you, preciosa," he mumbles and smirks. "I just can't get enough of how hot it is to see my cum spilling out of your pretty pussy," he husks in a raspy baritone, eyes smoldering as they catalogue your body, the quickening of your breath, how your belly tenses in excitement at his praise. "Does it feel good?" he asks and gazes up at you as he caresses your thighs soothingly, affection purring in his voice when he can't help the impulse of trailing two fingers along your puffy, drenched petals. "Looks so good."

You are incandescent with delight, getting so turned on by his unabashed, filthy fascination. "It feels great," you breathe, parting your knees more so you can show him more while your breath quickens, shallow with arousal. He groans and revels in how your pussy weeps with his essence, and when you dip your own fingers in the salacious mess, Javi watches riveted as you bring your sullied fingertips to your lips and savor his cum direct from your source. His taste intermingled with yours is like ambrosia on your lips, and the way Javier looks at you now – molten eyes heavy lidded with covetous want – has that burning flame of yearning flaring up in you. "But, I really need a shower," you mutter and bat your lashes at him, rueful smile becoming a lopsided grin when he exhales a cocky huff and shakes his head sardonically at you.

"Tan atrevida…" he murmurs affectionately and leans down to kiss you.

Without Javi literally carrying you to the bathroom and holding you up in the shower, you don't think your wobbly legs would've had the chance to recover long enough to stand in the soothing warm water he's letting cascade down your back while you lean against him and hum in sated serenity. When you're confident in your ability to not crumple in the bathtub, you carefully spin to face the shower spray and sigh while Javi rubs your shoulders and grunts from you playfully squeezing his fingers when he kneads puckishly into your back with his thumbs.

The dreamy afterflow ebbs sharply when you feel it, the thick comingled slick running down your inner thigh. It was one thing to entertain the raunchy fixation when you were coming down from mind-blowing sex, but now? You tense, embarrassed and trying to not fidget, but Javi's already noticed your anxiety and glances down, seeing how even more of his cum is dripping from you. His hand wraps around the curve of your waist and holds you steady as his other hand dips between your thighs and touches you tenderly. "Ah-! Javi, don't—" you begin to protest in flustered awkwardness, but he shushes you and trails his fingertips along your vulva slowly, and you shiver.

"Does it feel good? Having it drip out of you?" his baritone is tight and pitched, and when you shift your hips slightly, you feel his erection skim your ass.

"F-Feels embarrassing," you gasp and flail a hand to grip at the shower curtain while the other anchors to the bend of his arm that's at your waist. "D-Don't want you to see—"

"Mmm, please—let me. You're beautiful. So sexy. Can't get enough of you," Javi is reciting against the shell of your ear as he guides two fingers to press into you. "So warm, fucking tight, and full," he grumbles voraciously, tone barely a grouse as he starts working his fingers into you, tearing an excited sound of exaltation from you. "Look so beautiful. Feel so perfect and divine," he murmurs while he strokes his fingers to pump your sheath, forcing his cum to squelch out of your pussy and causing you to grapple to hold on and stay upright in the shower while he strums your impending orgasm. Pressing your forehead to the inside of his bicep of the arm he's encircling your ribcage with, you pant and whimper, feeling your already aching muscles rippling with tightening excitement. "C'mon, baby, come for me," he purrs against your neck and nuzzles your wet skin as you reach your hands backwards to anchor for purchase on him, toes curling as you whimper desperately in needy desire. When he corkscrews his finger up into your quivering sheath, you dissolve into mewls and gasps, climaxing and feeling your pussy flood with your orgasm that wrings all in its wake to seep out of you.

Javi's fingers keep working languidly in and out of you as your aftershocks die down and you prop your hands wherever they can find purchase and arch your foot to press against the rim of the tub for stability. When you come down from the beguiling orgasm, you dimly realize you're pressed flush against his warm torso and his arms have encircled your waist while your hands grip his forearms. He's murmuring things to you, and your static-filled mind tunes in on delay:

"You're beautiful...Don't ever feel shy…Want you…Want all of you…Wanna make you feel good…Eres hermosa, mi amor…"

Your pussy is throbbing with delight from being claimed by Javi, and your floor muscles pulse when you feel his cock gliding along the valley between your thighs, skimming along your swollen, hypersensitive flesh. You want so badly to pivot your pelvis and force him to sink his cock back into your aching cunt from behind, but Javi literally has to hold you up or you're going to end up splayed into the tile above the shower handles. The position feels so good though – your back pressed against his chest as he ruts his cock between your thighs, and you can feel his stomach muscles flexing as he rubs exquisite friction into your wet and tingly center. You clench your thighs tight and earn a hoarse sound as his cock strains, already swelling as you give a pelvic squeeze and grind back against him.

He makes a strangled, gruff sound of pleasure and tenses against you as he starts to come, and you hump his cock and get off on the thick girth of him pressing up against your clit. It's salacious and depraved, but you love it, relishing the feel of his warm cum dripping all over your thighs and trickling down your knees. Javi's breathing raggedly against the back of your neck, shuddering from the twitching tremors of overexcited muscles reflexing and recovering from another overwhelming orgasm. He groans your name and only manages hums of sated pleasure for a few minutes while he comes down from the sex high.

Once you both recover, you wash off the evidence of your insatiableness and kiss, letting the post-coital haze relax you until the water from the cascade starts coming out cold. When you're drying off, you notice the scratches you dug into his back and gasp, floored that he's made no show of discomfort. He snickers when you frown and try to coddle him. "Shit. If you think this looks bad…don't look in the mirror," he jokes, and you scoff and swat his arm.

"You saying I look ravished? Don't flatter yourself, engreído," you scoff and shove him out of the bathroom while you repress your wily grin. When you pass the medicine cabinet mirror, though, you see what he means and balk. He left a hickey on the arcing ridge of your shoulder-to-neck, and you gasp despite yourself. "Oh jeez," you exclaim and flush, and when he holds his ground to your shoving nudges – hand gripping his towel at his hip to keep it around his waist while he chuckles down at your bemused glower, you pout and acerbically snarl, "Mira, puto descarado – deja de reírte."

"Such a filthy mouth on someone so lovely," he grunts and just presses those delectable lips together and does a terrible job at suppressing his grin, so you pinch a pressure point on his side and he flinches. "Alright! Vindictive tentadora," he snickers and herds you with the palm of his hand at your towel-covered lower back to press up close to him so he can give you a peck on the lips. "You cool down and come to bed," he purrs and taps your ass before he turns and struts down the hall to your bedroom.

He hears your dramatic huff and smirks as he goes, and you can't help purse your lips at his nail-raked back, getting an idea.

When you come into the bedroom in your silky robe, you see he's yanked off the bedspread and tossed it aside so he could slide under the thin sheet that he's let drape precariously over his hips as he lounges with his back against the headboard. Your panties are in his hands, and you scoff at the realization he must've snagged them up from the hall while you weren't looking. He doesn't even bat a lash at your rueful glance. "These are delicious," he purrs and raises the lacy garment to his nose. Grunting at that, you waltz over and hold out the glass of whiskey and his cigarette pack tucked between it and your palm, other hand hidden behind your back. Letting your prized panties fall to the floor, Javi's brows quirk in surprise, but your gaze is innocent while the quirk of your lips is devious, so he narrows his eyes at you and drawls, "This is a trick."

"Nope. Here," you offer him the drink, and he takes it warily, as if you're going to pistol whip him any minute. When he opens the cigarette pack, fishes out a slim cylinder and the lighter, and lights up, visibly relaxing as he sips his drink, you pat his thigh and purr, "Sit up," and when he does, you sidle around to shimmy behind him and nudge him so you can have access to his back as you swing the small medical tote you had hidden behind your back around.

"Oh, fuck, c'mon—" Javi begins to protest, and you caress your hand along the side of his ribcage and give him a doting squeeze.

"Shush. I will not let you get these infected," you affectionately admonish and start working on cleaning the scratches you dug into his back. Brushing your wet tendrils of hair behind your ears and out of the way, you go to work, being gentle. He barely winces as you care for him. Instead, he concentrates on nursing his whiskey and smoking the cigarette, but whenever his shoulders tense, you know it stings, so you blow cool air over his skin. "And I'm taking care of this too," you murmur and gently dab some disinfectant at the welt he's not let heal on his shoulder. You sigh and glower at yourself. "I should've been more careful—"

He grumbles and huffs dryly, stubbing the cigarette out and finishing his whiskey in a swallow. "That was fucking hot. Don't ever hold back, querida," he rumbles over his shoulder at you, fringe of his hair fanning damply along his forehead. "Tan guapa…such a turn on when you're so fucking brava," he murmurs and squeezes your knee. He reaches a knuckle backwards to tenderly graze the hickey he's left on your skin. "I'm the one who needs to be more careful."

You sigh and nudge his hand affectionately so he can lean back against you. "Just keep 'em strategically placed, babe," you quip and kiss the back of his shoulder. He chuckles and relaxes while you finish tending to his back. Once you've rubbed the salve and let it dry, satisfied that things will heal and not scar, you nuzzle the back of his head and kiss the nape of his neck. "I missed you," you suddenly find yourself confiding, encircling your hands around his torso and leaning into his back.

You feel him melt, and his arms loop backwards to coax you around so he can pull you against his chest and kiss you. It's tender, and sweet, and he only lets you lean away to place the tote aside on the nightstand and switch the lamp off. He helps you shrug out of your robe and pulls you against him as you lay on your sides, facing each other. The dim moonlight coming in from the slats of the windows illuminates his jaw and cheekbone as he lounges up on his elbow to gaze down at you so he can comb his fingers through your hair before framing the side of your face. He traces his thumb reverently along your cheekbone as he murmurs in a hushed tone, "You know I…I never meant to…"

Your eyes soften and you lean up to kiss his flustered self-reproaching tension away. "I know," you muse and curl up against him. "I had no right."

He stirs against you at that. "What?"

You exhale and tilt your head up to brush a kiss along his jaw. "I had no right to be upset."

Javi grunts. "Querida—" you sidle your arm up his back and bury your face against his throat, wanting to diffuse him – to not harp on anything. "Hey… mírame."

Begrudgingly, you look up into his handsome features, seeing the crinkle around his eyes and the furrow between his brows. You go to brush your fingertips along his forehead when he takes your hand and presses it to his chest.

With a terse exhale, his gaze becomes resolute as he mutters, "This is long overdo, but I…am a complete fuckup when it comes to…this. I know I didn't deserve another chance…" he pauses when you stare intently at him. "You've asked nothing of me. I want you to ask whatever you want of me."

Your gaze softens, and as if your love for him wasn't already brimming in your chest, this? It has you yearning. His words unleash a tidal wave that crests through you, leaving you effervescent and buzzing. "I just want this. I want you," you wistfully muse and press your forehead to his. "I just want to feel good…want to make you feel good."

"You do," he answers firmly and nuzzles your temple. "…I want the same."

You smile and kiss his cheek before nudging him affectionately with your lips and musing, "Good. So…lets try not to fuck it up, then."

He hums with humor and pulls you tighter against him. "Yes, bravita. Sounds like a plan."

Smiling, you kiss him and turn so he can spoon you as you curl your hand to anchor at the back of his neck so you can unfurl to fit up against him perfectly.

As you begin to doze, folded blissfully in his embrace, you can't help feel fulfilled and alight, especially when he settles peacefully against you and nuzzles you lovingly.

None of this can lead to heartache, right? This is just going to work and nothing drastic or tenuous needs to happen for it to be so, right?

Loving Javier Peña has no consequences…right?

---

Spanish-English Glossary:

Cuba libre = Rum and Coke drink

Hijueputa = Son of a bitch; sunovabitch

Canela = Cinnamon

Cariño = darling/sweetheart

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

Hermosa = Beautiful

Mi amor = My love

Preciosa = Gorgeous; precious

Recriminándome con pendejadas = Recriminating me with bullshit

Cabronerías = bastardizations; akin to saying "asshole bullshit"

Putas = Sluts

Informantes = Informants

Chavón = a man that's pestering you

Pendejo = Dumbass; jackass

Eres una malcriada atrevida = You are a daring/naughty brat

Desafiándome = Defying me

Mi amor = My love

Dime lo que necesitas = Tell me what you need

A ti…nada más que ti = You…nothing else but you

Te quiero a ti, Javi = I want you, Javi

Acuéstate = Lay down

"¿Soy la única que quieres? = Am I the only one you want?

Sí. Tú eres la única = Yes. You're the only one

Te quiero, Javi = I love you, Javi

Atrevido/Atrevida = Daring man/Daring woman

Brava = Feisty; tough

Te amo, querida = I love you, darling

Cállate con eso = Shut up with that

Mira quien habla = Look who's talking

Tan atrevida = So daring

Eres hermosa, mi amor = You're beautiful, my love

Engreído = Conceited

Mira, puto descarado – deja de reírte = Hey, you shameless motherfucker/bastard - quit laughing

Tan guapa = So sassy/foxy/daring/testy

Mírame = Look at me

Bravita= Tough girl; feisty girl

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