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?

14. Chapter 14: Lovers

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of sex, including explicit depictions of oral and unprotected sex. Use of provocative pet names. Mentions of past violence. Descriptions of physical injuries caused from an assault and battery. Dom/sub play, cum play, size kink, spanking kink, dirty talk. Allusions to past trauma, underage sex, and emotional repression. Some Dom!Javi, Dom!Reader, Sub!Javi, Sub!Reader, Possessive!Javi.

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Chapter 14: Lovers

The breeze that wafts over you is enchantingly cool, caressing your bare arm and easing you into stirring towards it. Fuzzily coming into awareness, you forget for a split second about the tribulations of recent, so when you go to roll over and stretch, your entire body protests. Your side is especially throbbing, which propels you to ease back into place. That warm, broad, slightly snoring place that is Javi, who is in a deep sleep next to you, under the fluffy blanket. You smile at his slumbering features, appreciating his tension-free brow and docile little pout thanks to the pillow half his face is buried into.

When your side won't stop throbbing, you slink somewhat clumsily out of bed, knowing now for sure that Javi is out cold when he doesn't stir at all from you shifting out of bed and wincing as you shrug into your robe. The fabulous, albeit slightly disorienting nap has you unsure what time of day it is, and when you glance at the clock and see it's almost early evening, you sneak to the kitchen for a refill of cold water so you can take another dose of ibuprofen. Deciding it's your turn to let Javi sleep like a log, you keep yourself quiet-but-busy, tidying up the kitchen.

You shiver at the sight of the bloodied paper towels Javi must've used to clean his battered hands the night before, and when you close the cabinet and walk by the kitchen table, you finally notice his jacket flung over the back of a chair. The brown leather triggers memories to flood back – how you'd grabbed at that leather and hauled Javier with all your might back and away, how it sculpted taught to his arms as he pounded his fists into Danvers – and you notice the sleeves are stained along the cuff line. Picking it up, you dutifully go to the sink and start working on the household remedy for getting blood out of leather, silently fretting over the whole thing over again.

You really did mean it when you'd told him the stray thought that had crossed your mind while Danvers was lunging for you. The other thought you'd had, but not mentioned, was that you'd wanted more with Javi – that you'd missed your chance. Thinking about it now, you admonish yourself. Things are fine with you finally, so you will not rock the boat. After all, this is not a time to get tangled up in your pining, whimsical dreams of what could be. You are satisfied with how things are now, and to want or ask for more seems selfish and clingy, so you shelve those thoughts.

Setting the jacket aside to dry, you refresh your icepack so you can tuck it flat against your side under the robe and pin it in place with your arm as you go to the bathroom mirror to brush your insane hair out and survey yourself. Even with all the sleep, there are dark circles peeking flatly under your eyes, and you look worn. Frowning, you're about to start obsessing over your unappealing appearance when you hear familiar scratches coming from the balcony doors.

Letting the little black cat in, you smile endearingly down at her as you labor to lower down and place her food dish out for her. You spare her a little pet to the head before loping back to the kitchen to deliberate about what to make for dinner. Then, a needling thought crosses your mind.

What if Danvers identified Javi?

It roils your stomach and makes your chest tight, so before you've checked the impulse, you're sneaking back to the bedroom to get the cordless phone. Javi is still knocked out, only now he's hugging your pillow to his chest as he curls more into his own. His snore is adorable, and you have to repress the desire to reach over and brush his hair softly from his forehead. Silently admonishing yourself for drooling over him, you carefully exit and head to the balcony so you can dial Ellis.

"Hey! So glad you're feeling better, kid. And I'm sorry for being hysterical—it was all the booze, I promise," the jovial man drawls over the line.

"Sure," you chime sardonically before pivoting to what you're hoping he can tell you. "I'm kind of nervous about Monday. It all happened so fast, and I know I'll have to give a statement to HR, but I was wondering if you heard from any of the guys if anything new happened? Lou said he was going to see he get booted—"

"Pffft, that sonuvabitch is already gone," Ellis tersely gravels. "I heard from Samson that his superiors went to the hospital to escort him to the airfield and forced him on a military transport going back stateside. He tested with a 0.15% blood alcohol. The beating he got was severe enough that he was flinching any time someone made a sudden move, and he admitted to having gotten shitfaced almost every day this week while he waited for a chance to confront you—"

You listen to your friend give you all the gossip as you pull the icepack out and plop it wetly onto the table, bemused as you sit in the chair and watch the little cat have her fill of water before prancing out to the balcony to curl up and have a siesta by her favorite spot near the veranda's banister.

"—Damn bastard was so drunk, he said he thought a boxer was trying to kill him! He was raving that it was unfair and he never saw the guy coming. What a psycho," Ellis pulls you back, and you quietly suck in an anxious breath. "I'm just so relieved someone stopped him. Bet he'd be up to his elbows with all the drinks the fellas would buy him. Too bad he didn't stick around," he jokes, and you feel instant relief.

Once you've hung up the cordless phone and remember the rest of his clothes from last night in the hamper, you dig them out to make sure there's no blood on them. You find a few bloody flecks on the jeans and across the front of his dark-green shirt, so you take them to the sink and scrub them judiciously until the rust color washes out completely. Sighing once both items are hung to dry, you decide to venture down to the room to check on Javi.

This time, he's rolled onto his back and kicked off most of the fluffy blanket, so his torso and legs are exposed while the bunched up material is flung sidelong and clinging to his hips. His arms are jammed under the pillows and his head is tilted to the side, resting against his bicep as he sleeps soundly. The deep hearty breath he inhales has his chest puffing out and his soft purr of a snore thrumming up to your keen hearing.

You're flooded over with all the pining love that has nestled deep in your being for him. With it comes the intoxicating desire to curl into him, and stay there forever. Glancing at the nightstand and seeing the key you'd given him, you feel your cheeks burn with the sweeping girlish delight you're usually fighting to suppress. But the sight of a physical representation of how much you love and trust Javi has you feeling a bit airy, and then having this handsome man sprawled out in his slumbering glory before you?

Well, needless to say, you suddenly don't care about making dinner, so you take your robe off and stealthily crawl onto the bed, anticipating your movements will stir him. When they don't, you lie on your good side next to him and simply gaze down at his rugged beauty. You normally don't get to appraisingly gaze at him, so you're taking advantage now, admiring how handsome he is, how broad and tall he is in your bed, the strength in the sinew of his muscles and the vitality that exudes out of him, even while in deep sleep.

Carefully, you caress your fingertips over his chest, reverently tracing his collarbones before skimming slowly down his sternum to glide over his stomach. His breathing doesn't change, but he nuzzles into his bicep and his expression minutely twitches. Enticed, you lean down and brush a kiss over his right pectoral and draw soft circles over his lower abdomen before experimentally tugging on the fabric of his underwear, easing the waistband away from the defined curve of his hip.

Javi's brows soften and he makes a dreamy sound, but doesn't wake. Smiling, you plant more kisses along his warm torso, nudging the blanket completely aside so you can worship his slumbering, sculpted form. You make sure to sweep your hair back and gingerly move to not jostle your aching side as you maneuver to map him with your mouth. The more you press your wet, plush lips to his skin, the more you notice the effect it's having on him. His stomach is tensing excitedly while he lets out a long sigh and tips his head the opposite way, mumbling wordlessly into the pillow.

Smiling, you trail the tip of your tongue lightly to his stomach, and feel his muscles tense again, but he still doesn't wake. It isn't until you brush a kiss into the trail dusted with a smattering of dark hair that dips below the waistband of his underwear that his cock fills out and defines against the cotton fabric. The sight of it is delectable, so you brush a warm kiss over it through the soft material, and feel it twitch interestedly against your mouth.

The delighted appendage's owner murmurs a hum and parts his lips in a soft sigh after lulling his head straight back into the un-fluffed pillows. Javi's still not awake, so you carefully tug his underwear off to mid-thigh when he suddenly adjusts the bend of his knees and stretches sleepily. Glancing up, you find he was just fidgeting in his sleep, so you go back to your licentious ministrations – heated gaze appreciatively admiring his manhood and how hard he's gotten just from flirty brushes of your lips. Javi's cock is beautiful, you decide, and find yourself leaning down to crown it with a kiss.

The thickening, smooth flesh is warm and delectable against your lips, so you open your mouth to suckle it just under the curved head. You idly register how his thighs flex at the heat of your mouth over his hardened shaft as you glide down to the underside and lave a hot kiss there.

Javier hums a moan, and you hear his arms shifting from the pillows as he drowsily grumbles and settles back down. You snicker to yourself, deciding you can give in and really worship him with your mouth with gusto.

Cupping the underside of his cock with your tongue to appreciate its velvet weight before you take it into your mouth, you moan softly, feeling your core flutter with excitement. It always thrills you how big he is, and how thick and hard he gets – making you marvel that you're able to take him, that your petite body was made to fit his entire girth and revel in the stretch of him claiming you to the hilt. Your core tingles at the thought as you bury his dick in your mouth and feel his tip brush the back of your throat, and only when you work to stifle your gag reflex around him do you feel Javier start to stir.

It's the heat engulfing his throbbing cock that first reels him into drowsy awareness, but when you stifled a sound around him, it vibrated through him and cloyed over his senses. Next thing Javi knew, he was digging his heels into the bed and impulsively bucking his hips up into the heavenly warmth enveloping him, a startled moan catching in his throat and his arms flailing out to grip blindly as he tried to gain his bearings. "Nngth-ah-mmmph—" you hear inarticulately groaned from him as you look up and let his cock pop wetly out of your mouth.

Javi's gaze is heavy-lidded and dazed, but his mouth is dropped open as he pants through the charged excitement that quivered up his spine and fueled his heart to race. Seeing you naked and staring up at him with those scintillating eyes and your mouth greedily pursing over the head of his cock instantly snaps him awake and has him burning with lascivious desire.

"I'm sorry. I just…I just couldn't help it," you breathe out in a mildly sheepish tone as you lean back and start to stroke him with one hand while you balance yourself on the other to keep the strain off your right side. "You looked so sexy…"

Avidly slack jawed by your pretty sinfulness, Javi is at a loss for words. After all, he'd never been awoken in such a divine way, and while he definitely had dreamt of it, waking up to the real thing has him drunk with lust – thoughts torn asunder, and he loves how swept up it has him.

When he just gives you an enthralled, molten stare – lips parted from his shallow pants, you take it as an invitation to keep going, so you pause your ministrations to yank his underwear completely off before spreading his legs so you can kneel between them. Hand returning covetously over his throbbing shaft, you watch him sensually as you lean forward to lick the delicious pre-cum that's leaking from his slit before toying the tip of your tongue in and pursing your mouth over it. Javi's reaction is toe-curling pleasure, and the sight of him arching his back and flushing as he moans will keep you warm on the coldest of nights.

Every muscle in Javi's body is protesting, still battered and sore from the fight, but his arousal haywires the pain to concentrate on the salacious pleasure you're unspooling in his gut and zinging down into his loins and burning like a stoked fire in his core. You moan around him when you feel his cock twitch against your tongue, stroking and sucking with vigor while Javi clamps his hand over his mouth to stifle his rambling groans, but a few choice gems of lewd praise manage to escape.

"—Oh fucking god—So good, always so good—Mouth is heaven—Eres mi gloria—Can't get enough—!"

The husky exaltations have your pussy dripping and clenching, your clit throbbing with need, but you hold off on chasing your pleasure so you can concentrate on melting Javi into his.

You don't expect him to suddenly snap up and pivot you down onto the bed with a feral snarl just when you started to feel his muscles bunch up. Your startled yelp is snuffed when Javi swears a croaky 'Oh f-fuck!' and possessively presses into your open legs before he buries his hot face against your neck while you cling to him. It takes your sex-buzzed mind a beat to realize he was close to coming and he wanted to stave it off.

"Ay, Javi," you chime sweetly and wrap your legs around him, ignoring the aching strain in your side, and rub your hands over his back. "Babe, I wanted to get you off—"

"R-Rather get off together, you sexy atrevida," he growls hoarsely against you as he reins his arousal back from the brink and concentrates on your warm skin pressing into his, how soft and fragrant your hair is, how wet you are where he's pressed against you. "Christ…that was so fucking hot," he grumbles, and you snort.

"Well you should've just kept enjoying it, malcriado," you tease lovingly and nuzzle a kiss into the spot next to his ear before nipping impishly on his earlobe. He riles and retaliates by suckling a kiss into the delicate spot under the hinge of your jaw. "Mmm, babe…I want you, but I-I don't know if I can take you—"

"Shit, am I hurting you?" Javi frets tersely and shifts to adjust his broad frame over you.

"No, you're not," you scoff and hold onto his biceps so he doesn't pivot completely away. Licking your lips, you stare up at him and start to deliberate about how hard he can fuck you without having you wincing in pain from jostling your bruised side.

"Fuck, you can't look at me like that," Javier grouses acerbically and shakes his head at you. "It's not fair—"

"How am I even looking at you, chavón?" you counter and keep looking at him that way, eyes sultry and lips inviting.

He huffs wryly and worries his bottom lip between blunt teeth before drawling, "With those 'fuck me' eyes. You can't pull that and then not let me—"

"If you can fuck me nice and gentle, then…fuck me, Javi," you cut in seductively, squeezing the insides of your knees around his hips for emphasis.

Well, you know Javier – your tenacious DEA agent lover – is always up for a challenge, so of course he rises to the occasion, both literally and figuratively. When he's adjusted your position so you're on the edge of the bed, with a pillow nestled under your lower back for support, while he cradles the backs of your thighs and stands between your open legs, you can't help blink flirtatiously up at him.

"Now, you lay still and be a good girl for me," he rumbles smugly, tone gravelly as he guides the head of his cock into your drenched heat and starts pressing into you.

You have no chance to react sassily to his goading musing as he fills you with his exquisite, ruinous thick that you swear is so hard now that you can feel him hitting a tickle into your womb from how deep he's thrusting in this angle. He watches your features light up with pleasure as he holds your lower half in place whilst he thrusts slow and deep in you, letting you feel the heavy drag of his throbbing length against your rippling walls before he pulls out and pushes back in. The sound of him thrusting in and out of you is as filthy as the delight it singes through you, and you are biting your lip and gripping the bedding as he makes love to you in this delicious way.

Javier savors how your knees involuntarily pull up and your thighs arch wider for him, and with every thrust into you, your breasts bounce from the rhythm while you writhe and whimper up at him. He wants to tease your clit, but knows that'll be anything but nice and gentle, so he concentrates on pivoting his strokes to slot himself flush so his pubic bone can grind into yours with every thrust home.

The needy cry you make sounds pitchy in your own ears, but you can't even care when Javi is fucking you so good and looming over you – all broad shoulders and dark hair, etched jaw and boyish lips, hungrily panting while his eyes smolder with searing heat into you. He makes you feel like nothing else but your pleasure matters right now, and the tender care he's expending in making you feel so good has overwhelmed devotion tangling in your chest for him.

"J-Javi," you whimper, clenching your eyes shut as you start to grow taut under him. "Feels s-so good—"

"Just for you, querida. Only want to make you feel good," Javi murmurs huskily and tightens his grip on your thighs as he presses his knees into the edge of the mattress to quicken the pace of his thrusts when he feels your fluttering sheath start to clench around him. "That's it—that's it, baby. Come for me," he croons hoarsely as he reins his impulse of pounding his thrusts to instead keep a measured snap of his hips against yours as you start to whimper and arch in bliss under him. "Fuck, yeah, t-that's it, mi amor, come all over my cock—"

"Oh Javi, ah—!" you wail and feel your ecstasy spark wildly inside your womb before igniting crackling fire in your core that zings carnal delight bone-deep, leaving you alight under him. Your sheath floods over and clamps around his thick cock, and you can feel him shudder and tense over you just as you instinctually wrap your legs around his hips and try to anchor him to nestle deep inside you.

Javier winces at the pressure of your heels digging into his sore lower back, but when your molten sheath literally strangles around his cock beseechingly, the pain dissolves in the wake of his blistering orgasm singing through him. With a broken groan, Javi folds over you from the force of his stuttering thrusts into you just as he fills you with the blossoming flutter of his cum pumping you with warmth. He grunts gruffly and hums when you hold him in your arms and smile against his cheek. His back is now pulsing with the aching soreness, and he has to stifle a wince with effort.

"Fuck's sakes…give me a minute, hermosa," he exhales and mutters self-deprecatingly when he's trembling to keep himself from collapsing completely over you while trying to recover his breath.

"Hah, babe, just lay on me. I love it," you chuckle softly and kiss him reassuringly from his temple to his brow. "I can't feel anything but you inside me right now."

He groans in satisfaction and goes to shift you both more comfortably onto the bed so he can sprawl over you and bury his face in your neck. You sigh wistfully and encircle your arms around him while your legs sidle his. His broad, toned weight over you is one of your most favorite things, and no amount of sore muscles or bruises will stop you from reveling under him while you hold onto him tight.

Javi could lay on top of you like this for the rest of the night, but his lower back is protesting after a few minutes, and he swears to his begrudging chagrin that he can't entirely blame it on the brutal beat down he gave the night before. He knows his age is catching up to him. The chasing sicarios over rooftops had him winded for hours, body aching and muscles sore for days after. He hid it all from you, mostly because he didn't want you to fret or worry, but also, because a small insecure part of him doesn't want to own up to the lag of his body not being able to snap back like it used to. Really, the only time he had ridiculous amounts of stamina was in bed with you, but even right now, he was hurting to pop some muscle relaxers and fall asleep on an icepack.

While you lie under him and secretly enjoy his spiced rugged scent that's now warm and heady from his sweat, you can feel his muscles flexing sporadically, and when your blissed out thoughts clear to allow for observational cataloging again, you purse your lips and experimentally trail your hands down to his lower back. Flexing your fingers delicately there, Javier instantly tenses and bites back a wince.

"Dammit…how long has your back hurt, Javier?" you grumble as you nudge him to roll off of you, which causes tension in your side. "Ugh, god, we're both battered idiots," you derisively hiss and smile when he scoffs and rolls onto his back with a labored grunt. "Well? How long?"

"…Just the last five years of my fuckin' life…" he deadpans gruffly and drapes his forearm sulkily over his eyes. "But sure, a one-sided brawl didn't help matters either," he dryly quips.

You can't help soften at his gruff deprecation, so you kiss his chest and muse, "Alright, you and me are taking ibuprofen and having a few drinks tonight, which I know is explicitly on the warning label, but fuck it – we live dangerously."

His raspy chuckle is charmed, and his pillowy lips purse before muttering, "What a delightful Saturday night you got here. Spending it with a broken down agent—"

You yank his forearm away and glare admonishingly down at him. Not playfully, or feigning, but truly sharp as you scowl and raise a brow at him before you murmur to him with authority, "I told you once I would not abide you doing that."

Javi's eyes widen before sobering under the resolute heat of your gaze. When he doesn't flick his stare away, and his brow dips seriously, your expression becomes gentle as you tenderly caress his cheek and lean down to meet his delectable full lips with your own. His heart does that funny thing when it feels like it wrings and expands at the same time, swelling in his chest until he feels immense, like he's worthy. It makes him so soft to your loving grace, and you radiate it until you pull back and smile at his big brown eyes watching you dreamily.

"You are going to let me take care of you, Javier," you lilt sweetly and caress your fingers along his forehead, brushing his unruly tufts back, which you know soothes him just as much as it delights you.

He exhales and nods, unburdened with any gruff propriety to object your doting treatment. Once you've gotten him to take some ibuprofen, you both shower together and you use the warm water to help you massage his back gently of the tension that squares his jaw and has him gritting against the pain while he leans forwards into the tile. You find the knot causing the trouble and gently work at it until the flexing in his back goes slack and he sighs a big, huffy sound of relief.

When back in bed, you force him to lounge in just a towel while on his stomach with an icepack on his lower back while you make something quick and easy for dinner. Javi watches you with warm, dark-brewed eyes over the rim of the whiskey glass you generously handed him along with his plate of food before you sat on the edge of the bed to tend to your scraped knees with the salve from your little medicine tote. He's enamored with you, thoughts unraveling the tapestry of moments woven between you two that has given him the respite he never thought he'd earn, and when you giggle after the little black cat jumps up on the bed and startles him from his heated staring, Javi can't even muster the umbrage to shoo the unlucky creature away.

But, when the green-eyed black feline tries to bump her head affectionately against his shin, he glowers. "Figures. Bad luck just follows me everywhere," he jibes and nudges the cat away. She protests and sprawls onto her side to lean against his towel-clad thigh. "Oh, c'mon…"

You laugh melodiously at the charming sight, leaning over to pet her foot. "Que cosa, siendo supersticioso, chulito," you taunt in a singsong to him and grin when he adjusts so the cat isn't touching him. "You really believe in black cats being bad luck?"

"I just don't like 'em," he mutters and eats while he ignores the cat. "My abuela told me to keep away from them, and the single time I approached one, it scratched the shit out of me. Never again," Javi grumbles and shakes his head. "Plus, she's a street cat. You shouldn't let her up on the furniture, let alone the sheets—"

Snickering dismissively, you pivot gently to get the cat's attention. "Ok, señorita, the grumpy superstitious man doesn't want your love, so go back to the balcón," you coo at the cat and gesture for her to go. She looks at you and just stretches out to sidle closer to Javi. "Oh my god," you laugh and wryly bite your lip when he shoots the cat a dirty look and arches a chiding brow at you. "What? It's not my fault she's got good taste in men." When you wink at him, he rolls his eyes and grunts before purposely sitting at the very edge of his side of the bed, and you guffaw when the cat mewls in protest.

Mercifully scooping the cat up before she can get closer to your now sulky lover, you take her out to the balcony, fill her bowl with more tuna, and bid her goodnight before closing up. Your washed hands are tipping more whiskey into his glass a few minutes later, and once he's drunk his fill, Javi can't feign his brooding any longer when you tend to his hands. You're pleased to see his battered knuckles mending well, so you put some salve on them and let them air dry before you shed your robe, snatch his towel away, and order him to lay back on his stomach so you can keep massaging his back.

Javier smirks into his folded arms as you get out the lotion and start working, and by the time you've kneaded and worked every kink, knot, and sore spot out of his corded muscles, he's half-asleep in tranquil satisfaction, humming drowsily while he dimly wonders what he's done to deserve such blessed treatment.

By the time you come back from setting the dinner dishes into the sink to soak, Javier is knocked out and snoring lightly while on his belly with his head half in a pillow. Said snores are not unlike the purring sounds of a cat, you can't help gloat, as you turn the lights off, ease the blanket over him, and curl up close to sleep.

Your blissful sleep is only interrupted early the next morning by the delectable friction being rubbed against your tingling center from behind, and when said friction is heightened by warm fingertips gliding between your folds while the hard press of a heavy weight parts your thighs, you mewl and curl backwards into Javi. He suckles a kiss into your trapezius before nipping at the muscle when you finally stir fully awake, and gasp out just as he starts easing into your tight heat.

Yep – you know this is a bit of cheeky retaliation after your libidinous wakeup, but many a morning has started not so dissimilarly to this – with Javi rubbing his morning wood against your ass, or with his fingers gliding over your pussy teasingly until you're aching and wet first thing for him.

It's an understatement to say that you adore all of it, and when you both climax together and come down from the blissful high, you wistfully curl your hand to the back of his hair so you can guide him down to meet your lips over your shoulder.

Needless to say, you feel much better today, and decide to venture out of your little sanctuary with Javier. He's feeling just as good, and after your talented massage, his muscles are loose and relaxed as he escorts you through the market for your weekly food shopping. Arm threaded in his, you let him dutifully carry the shopping bags with your purchases as you talk and banter jovially.

"Seriously. How many tour shirts do you even have?" he teases, and uses his comment as an excuse to leer at your chest.

"Plenty, chavón," you snicker, tugging at your Fleetwood Mac shirt flatteringly as you muse, "Don't be jealous that I lived it up in the concert scene while you were being a good boy—"

"And how were you going to so many shows when you should've been home on a school night, atrevida?" he drawls and playfully encircles your waist as you walk, shooting you a teasing, soulful smirk when you purse your plush lips up at him.

"That is a story for a less-crowded place, galán," you purr and wink.

It's a lovely cool day, so a lot of people are in the market. Mostly families and judicious shoppers who're trying to get in before the rush and get out. You and Javi are arm in arm for most of your perusing, with him frowning every time you beat him on paying a vendor, or you're scoffing when he insists on getting this or that for your apartment since you refuse to come over to his place where he already owns a coffee maker or the like. The only time you're not glued to each other's side is when he goes to have a smoke in a less crowded corner while you talk with a vendor about a particular ingredient you're looking for.

The lady helping you shoots Javi a glance before leaning close to confide something to you. When you purse your lips and say something that seemingly assures her, she laughs out and shakes her head before going back to look for what you were ordering. Grunting at the odd exchange, Javi sets it aside and just uses the moment to admire you from afar.

You'd been so self-deprecating about your appearance while you got ready to go out, and for the life of him, he didn't get it. As you'd pulled on the buttery-soft pair of worn jeans that fit you loosely and the softest of your t-shirts while complaining about how frumpy you were gonna look, he'd thought you looked just as gorgeous as always. You always exuded youthful and stunning beauty, but now with your bouncy ponytail and fresh-faced features, you look bewitchingly seraphic – enchanting-yet-soft in the casual attire that shapes you daintily rather than the curve-hugging capris and teasing blouses you normally wear on outings together.

When you're walking back over to him with an impish grin quirking your plush lips as you adjust your purse to be across your shoulder, he stubs out his cigarette and adjusts the shopping totes he's balancing easily with those delectable arms of his. You can't help chew on your bottom lip at how ridiculously handsome he looks while looking so put out and domestic. The shirt with the re-sewn buttons looks just as good on him today as it did when you ripped it off of him, and those damned jeans are fitted to his hips in such a way you're convinced he has them tailored, while his leather jacket hits just at his waist.

"What's so funny?" he rumbles when you sidle to fall into a strolling gait with him as you go to the produce side of the market.

"Oh, just wondering how ornery you're gonna get when I tell you how the lady at the stand admonished me for carrying on so flagrantly with you," you drawl deviously and wink at him when his brows shoot up in wonder. "She saw you watching me, and told me, 'Oh, you're too young to be running around with that man!' so I told her my age and she gaped," snickering, you chuckle, "I told you I look frumpy," and nudge your shoulder affectionately into his side.

Instead of the mirth you expected, Javi frowns. "Frumpy has nothing to do with it," he mutters in a gruff snort before musing flatly, "I'm no young buck."

That has you clueing into an insecurity you never realized Javi's had before, and it gives you pause. After all, well, he's a goddamned stud – nay, an Adonis. Not to mention tenacious, macho, equal parts agile and vigorous, and with a stamina that often has you bowled over. So, how in the world could he be bothered by his age? Sure, he's older than you, but really not by much – not in the way that he should feel self-conscious about being seen with you. Hell, most of your past lovers were twice your age and had no qualms being out with you for the world to see and envy. The idea that something so benign you mentioned has bothered him makes you annoyed with yourself. You remember his deprecating quip from last night – about spending the night with a broken down agent, and you recognize now that it's something he feels vulnerable over.

Squeezing his arm and halting your strolling stride, you pin him still with your alluringly sultry look, scintillatingly staring up at him through your long dark lashes as you murmur only loud enough for him to hear, "No, you're a fucking stud. All raw power and stamina," and when you lean closer, you whisper in his ear, "The kind of stud I like to ride long and hard until I come apart."

With a flirty peck to his jaw, you flounce away to a particular produce stand, shooting him a heated glance over your shoulder as you lick your lips and go.

Javier's awed stare and clenching jaw as he flushes is everything you need right now as you wink innocently at him while you rifle through the stand offerings.

Unsurprisingly, your sexually charged lover is brewing with wound up surly lust while you finish your shopping, and as soon as you're putting the bags in the back of his jeep and easing into the passenger seat, you smugly wait for him as he climbs into the driver's seat and slams the door. Pressing your lips together, you sit on the edge of your seat and bat your lashes at him while he clearly is exuding all self-control and stubborn willpower right now.

Oh, how you love this ridiculous game.

"It's so great that they had everything I needed today. I'll be able to make a 'Thank You' lasagna for the fellas," you innocently chime as you wait for him to snap his seatbelt on and ease his sunglasses over his surly, molten gaze.

Instead, he pauses before sliding the aviators on and tips his chin down to size you up. "Wait—you're making them your lasagna before you've made it for me?" he queries curtly; baritone hitting that edge that always raises heat to your skin.

Mischievously smiling over at him, you drawl, "Well, I made you a whole lasagna – once," and shrug, leaving the goading tinge of your taunt to thicken the air with your audacity.

Javi's shoulders straighten and he presses his lips together in a very unpleased frown before etching his features into that stoic, albeit hard scowl as he puts his shades on and starts the car, muttering in a graveled, dark growl, "You are gonna get it so bad."

Your panties were already wet when you sauntered over to the car with him in surly tow, but now they're soaked through at his wanton threat, and you have to suppress your giddy want as you strap your seatbelt on and pleasantly sit in the seat while he drives and keeps exhaling broody grunts to himself. Airily, you use the time to calculate just how rough the sex can be while you're still dealing with sore and scraped knees and a side that still protests when you make a sudden move or stretch out too far. It was bad enough you had to resort to such loose-fitting clothes for sheer comfort and injury-practicality's sake, but now that this stupid bruise was getting in the way of you being railed with abandon by Javi? Oh, you could just walk up and kick Danvers in the balls with a stiletto heel if the fucker was still in country.

Jesus, that felt like it happened ages ago. Reining in your devious glee, you find yourself sighing, "I'm making you one. Your very own tray, as a measly token of my thanks, agente." When he gives you a 'oh, is that right?' quirk of his lips and berating brow raise, you wink at him. "Yep. You'll have to put up with me toiling away in the kitchen for a few hours…" you remark tritely and give him a goading look.

"…After what you did at the market, you're not getting off that easily, querida," Javier rumbles in that low register that rakes velvet desire over your erogenous zones. With a smoldering glance, he adds in a husk, "Not unless I want you to get off that easily."

With a proclamation like that, well, how are you not supposed to be buzzing? Your thighs are clenching, nipples studding against your soft cotton bra and core burning red hot in anticipation, so as soon as he's parked, you involuntarily nibble on your bottom lip and give him a teasing look, the daring little sprite that lives inside of you goading you to push his buttons.

"It's going to be so hard for me to carry all those bags, but I think a strapping stud like you can manage," you sultrily jibe and smile at his flashing gaze as he whips around to grab you close but you've already opened your door and slinked out with as much agility as you can muster in your tender condition.

You're giddily sprinting up the curb and across the entryway of your complex while Javi is sitting there and watching you go with wicked approval. You definitely love instigating his possessive arousal, and the more daring you are, the more he'll give you what you want – which is to be dominated and drunk on his cock pounding into you until you're wailing his name.

Javi loves this little game, and the heat that coils in his loins spurs him to exit the driver's seat, collect all the bags from the back, and carry them like the pack animal he most certainly is channeling right now as he stalks up the sidewalk and across the walkway of the courtyard. He expects to see you already at your door fiddling with your keys, but instead you're chatting with a neighbor whose patio is across from the stairwell that leads up to your place. It's still early in the day, so there are plenty of residents out enjoying the fresh air, tending to chores, or lounging at the veranda, so Javi has to stow his rapacious energy as he approaches to say hello.

Your neighbor is just about to ask about your plants when Javi's nemesis, the little black cat, hops up on the banister of the woman's patio and meows. The unflappable DEA agent actually huffs an excuse about needing to take the groceries up in order to extricate himself from possibly being accosted by the cat, and you both watch him rush up the stairs – letting himself into your apartment with the key you gave him.

That gives you a merry flutter in your chest as you giggle and finish chatting with your neighbor, and once you've petted the cat and bid a nice afternoon, you go up the steps and anticipate Javi being positively sulky now, but when you walk in and shut the door, he's dutifully putting the groceries away for you, and you melt a little. He's already shed his jacket and agent paraphernalia, so you get to admire his cute ass in those jeans as he reaches into the fridge to store the perishable items. Just as you're about to hazard closer and start sorting through what needs to remain out for the lasagna prep, the phone rings, and you snatch it from the mount and answer it right as Javier was turning towards you to possibly lasso you against him with his agile cat-like reflexes, and lord knows what he was gonna do after all your teasing.

"Hello?" you answer and give him a doe-eyed look of innocence before sauntering down the hall to your bedroom to kick off your sneakers and socks.

"Hey! How're you recuperating, girlie?" Ellis asks jovially.

"My side's still a little sore, but all the rest I got has done wonders," you tell him as you set your purse aside on the dresser and idly fiddle with the button of your jeans as you deliberate whether to shed them for looser cotton trousers when you suddenly feel Javi brush up behind you.

"That's great. I'm glad. Not gonna lie, my big brother outrage has been stewing all weekend and I just can't stop thinking about how I should've been there—" as Ellis chatters in his tenor twang, you're trying to stifle your reactions to Javi roving his hands over your body possessively, fondling your breasts with his warm hands he paws deviously up your t-shirt. You're biting your lips when he's pursing his mouth along the slope of your neck just beyond the wide worn collar, starting to get tingly and feeling your cheeks burn. You can feel his hard-on grinding into your ass as he cheekily molests you while you grip the phone and war with keeping your breathing calm. "—Anyway, I was wondering if you wanted to carpool more? I could swing by and pick you up tomorrow and we can drive to the embassy together—"

"Y-Yes," you exclaim when Javi starts crowding you towards the bed while simultaneously yanking your jeans undone and off your hips and thighs. "—That would be great, actually," you pause your measured tone when Javi peels your soaked panties down and maneuvers you to the front of the bed before carefully but domineeringly pushing you down to lie on your tummy. "I'm m-making a lasagna as a t-thank you to the guys for everything—" you cut yourself off when Javi settles between your spread thighs from behind – lounging half-on-half-off the bed so he can bury his mouth against your drenched pussy. Your eyes widen and your mouth falls open in a silent mewl as you hazard a stuttered, "—for being great."

"Aww, I'm sure they'll love it, kid! Damn, would it be messed up if I mooched a piece? You know I'm gaga over your lasagna—" as Ellis goes on congenially, you are biting your fist to not make a breathy or throaty sound of pleasure as Javi eats you out shamelessly, and your fingers are gripping the receiver of the cordless phone so hard you wouldn't be surprised if the battery pack launches out of it. "—Here I am ramblin'! So what time you want me to pick you up? And oh! Need me to come up and help you carry stuff down?"

"N-No! Nope…I can manage," you sigh out and kick your feet lamely when Javi suckles a kiss on the top of your left buttock chidingly. "7:30 work?" is your pitched hiss that you manage to make sound like a wince.

"Sure thing! You sound winded, kid. Take it easy and don't overdo it!" Ellis chuckles before saying, "See you bright and early in the morning, girlie."

As soon as you say goodbye, you end the call and chuck the cordless phone to the pillow at the head of the bed and writhe. "Javier!" you wail and try to fend off his lascivious ministrations, but he laves a mind-melting swipe of his warm tongue from clit to ass that has you reeling with pleasure before he swats your ass warningly and hums thickly as you arch and moan.

"I fucking told you, atrevida," he drawls against your exposed lower back as he shifts up so he can start unfastening his jeans. "You're not getting off until I say you can," is his rumble as you hear his zipper ease down and the rustling of his clothes. "You're gonna lay there and be a good girl after being such a fucking tease earlier," he grouses roughly as he frees his thick cock before skimming it teasingly over the tight cleft of your ass.

You rut up against it and whimper. "B-but, I have to cook—"

"Later," he dismisses in a growl and lets his hard, throbbing cock rest against your ass, and he takes his time unbuttoning his shirt while you get so wet from his no-nonsense tone. Shedding the shirt and kicking his boots off to thud on the floor, he presses his fists into the mattress when he leans over you and licks the shell of your ear. "Take the shirt off."

Your cunt is clutching around nothing as you hurriedly do as you're told, shedding your t-shirt and waiting for instructions. Javi hums and rubs his cock along your ass. He surprises you by yanking at the cotton bra and stretching it off for you in one swift tug, allowing you to flatten your tits out on the bed as he presses his lower half into you. "You like to ride me long and hard, huh?" he murmurs against the back of your neck, and you shiver and nod eagerly. "What else you like to do, pinche tentadora?"

Exhilaratingly aroused, your brain is hazing with lust and need, so you whine, "You already know what, babe—"

He buffets his dense fingers down into the globe of your right buttock and you gasp out before undulating your pelvis up, seeking more of the friction of his erection over your aching pussy. "Mmm, cock-hungry little thing, aren't you," he husks against you before using your ponytail to steer your face up so you can meet his hungry mouth. He teasingly laps your lips with his tongue, letting you taste yourself, before he murmurs, "Who does this belong to?" and adjusts the cant of his hips to grind his cock against your throbbing cunt from behind.

You writhe and arch, bruised knees digging for purchase on the mattress as you rut up and cry salaciously, "Yours! It belongs to you, Javi."

He groans, pleased with your resolute answer, and pivots his hips to glide his cock back through the tight crevice of your ass as he purrs, "And is this tight fucking ass mine too?"

Even with the cloying fog that's filling your mind, you can't help snicker and hum as if you're thinking it over. "It's belonged to no one," you rasp and wince as you turn and shoot him a saucy glance over your shoulder, hair escaping your ponytail to frame your face. "You want it to be yours, mi amor?"

Javi is ready to fucking pounce at that, but he reels his feral want back and growls before crowding over you and nudging a nuzzle into the back of your ear, coiled with dominance as he husks in a gravel pitch, "This pretty little hole wants to be mine. You want my cock to split you open there," as he teases out his filthy desires by letting his cock nudge against the tight ring of your ass. "Want me to have what no one else has—"

You are burning from his raunchy talk, clit pulsing and core melting down with need. "Oh Javi, p-please—please fuck me," you whine tightly and stretch your hands out to relieve the tension in your side and so you can grip the nearest pillow. "I-I'll be so good if you please fuck me—"

The sight of you whimpering so incandescently and flailing for more of him has Javi drunk with power, and all he wants to do right now is give it all over to you. But, he decides to be a bit wicked, for once.

Leaning back and receding his delectable warm weight and hard cock from you, Javi smugly drifts his fingers over your dripping pussy before pulling back and tapping your ass. "On second thought, you should start cooking for me," he muses in a honeyed baritone, drawling, "I can control myself and wait to have your tight, needy little pussy later."

Smugly, Javi expects you to gasp or scoff, hell – maybe even cackle an appalled giggle, but when you instead fist your hands into the bedding and prowl to pivot with an exacting glare etched over your features, he is disarmed. Even with your sore side, you move with purpose and agility to literally pounce on Javi and force him down onto the mattress with an audible groan from the bed and a startled yelp from him that becomes a strangled gasp from you nipping and sucking on his delicious trapezius muscle while you amble your hips over his and plunge yourself onto his straining cock.

You are positively feral from his audacious teasing and threat, unabashed in needing to be filled by him now and not up for abiding any more dominance game. Right now? You are the alpha, and Javi revels in it as you wordlessly hum and groan into his neck, scraping teeth against skin and suckling the welts in your wake while you ride his throbbing cock with abandon whilst he moans and grips your ass. His pounding thrusts meet you with bruising force, and you delight in it, hands gripping his muscles and feeling the corded sinew flex back while your ragged breathing and slamming flesh fills the afternoon air over the sound of birds chirping outside.

The harsh cry that you muffle against his neck melts into a discordant whimper as you come hard on Javi, and the rush of it has you dizzy while your sheath floods over and clutches wantonly around his swelling cock. You mindlessly reel back to grip his chest as you arch up and pound him home into you, all pain in your body ignored as you drive his cock deep until he's slotted into that achingly exquisite part of you that flutters in delight. Javi's fingers dig into your backside with the force of his orgasm as he slams up into you until he fills you with thick spurts of cum before shouting a carnal sound of completion from your walls gripping him greedily.

By the time you come to and are a functioning, satiated human being again, you are flattened over Javi and shaking as your wrecked body recovers. His awed grunt and nuzzle stir you to melt and bury your face into his neck in a flustered sigh.

"…That…" Javi attempts hoarsely, but just exhales and buries his nose into you when you shift and begin to relax. "…Well…shit. Guess you didn't need my say-so to get off after all, querida…" he chuckles, raspy and warm, and kisses your jaw when you pry your face away from the comfort of his skin to stare with glossy eyes at him.

After you muster the effort to sit up and survey him, you find a very ravished and content man that's covered in a few hickeys along his shoulder and neck, and scratches over his pectorals. You had literally pounced on him with such beseeching impatience that his jeans are still tangled around his lower thighs. Your face burns at the primal result of your insatiable need to take your pleasure after he threatened to withhold it, and you cover your face with a hand and exclaim, "Oh my god, Javier. I—I can't even, I'm sorry—"

"That was fucking great, and you're crazy if you think I'm not going to rile you like that again so you can have your way with me, bravita," Javi rumbles in a canela-spiced purr that sends sparks to ignite in your core and has your cum-weeping pussy getting wet all over again. "I fucking love when you go wild like that," he growls and pulls you back down so he can claim your lips with awed, devoted kisses, tongue sweeping into your mouth and tangling with yours when you moan and melt into him.

Lasagna prep ends up being quite a unique and exhilarating affair after such a passionate session of sex, and while your knees sting, side aches, and everything between your thighs throbs decadently, you are alight and effervescent as you wear a dark patterned and worn billowy house dress post-shower and merrily chop, dice, marinate and boil everything you'll need. Javi watches you contentedly, hair wild and curling every which way while in his loosely fastened jeans and gray t-shirt whilst you flounce seamlessly around the kitchen and tell him the techniques for the proper lasagna. Both of you are barefoot, refreshed, and relaxed, but buzzing – sated and honed into that addictive gravitation that's always radiating between you.

Once everything is assembled in the two separate trays, you pop both lasagnas into the oven and pleasantly chime, "Now, to wait. A few hours and I'll be stuffing you with my specialty so you can't keep talking shit," then sidle up on him while he leans casually against the counter, so you can kiss his pouty lips.

He gives you a wily grimace. "I haven't talked shit at all, malcriada—"

"Fine, bitched, then?" you parry and grin when he encircles your waist and grumbles warningly. "Fussed?"

"Sure, fussed. Which is what you're gonna be doing when I refuse to punish your sexy ass like you like," he husks in a gruff charge and grabs your ass for good measure.

You lean into his chest and sigh, wrapping your arms around him as you murmur, "You are cruel, sir."

He chuckles and nuzzles the top of your head.

You spend the time waiting for dinner doing laundry, funnily enough, and dammit – you're realizing you're a complete sucker for a man being domestic. You also really like how Javi folds clothes, especially your underwear, and have no problem telling him so.

"We all have our talents," he laconically jibes as he finishes his stack and watches you put his shirts on hangers to be ironed later. "I'm a savant at folding panties, and you can get blood out of leather. What a duo."

You laugh and toss a rolled up pair of socks at him, smiling beamingly when he yanks the basket out of your reach so he can fold what's left. Javi had been bowled over when he saw you'd washed the blood out of his clothes and hung them to dry like nothing, and the connotations of you doing that spoke volumes. Not only had you lied for him, you'd also literally tampered with evidence and did it with daring authority on the matter. An intrepid part of him wagered if you weren't a keeper before, that certainly made you absolutely desirable, and he knows thinking such a thing is…weird. He should not be so turned on and pleased that you committed a crime for him, or that you protected him from fallout, but he positively burns with reverence for you now.

After you go check on the lasagnas and find they're almost done, you and Javi lounge on the couch, sharing a drink and talking. It's always come so easily for you both – the easy trust and comfort, and the fact you have to keep reminding yourself of everything that transpired in the last 48 hours and how monumental it was? That regardless of how traumatic it was, the violence only brought you closer? As you recline sidelong into him, you realize you've never felt safer – at peace. You yearn to stay in this space and time, to relish what it feels like to love and be loved so unconditionally.

You want to make plans with him. You want to tell Javi how much you want to be with him. You want to tell him you long to be his forever. And most importantly of all, you want to tell Javi that you want to love him and protect him.

That you want him to stay safe and give up the hunt.

That you want him to stay with you and quit chasing whatever he's trying to pursue...that you want him to stop running.

That you want to let him in and never push him away again.

All of these thoughts are muddled and tangled up in the anxiety of what it would mean to speak them out to him. So, you don't, and instead carry on in the conversation – having relented and agreed to tell him how you'd spent your turbulent youth in and out of private schools from Puerto Rico to New York, and in between you'd snuck into concerts, bars, nightclubs – anywhere there was music or an artist or a band that you were keen on seeing. And yes, along the way, you'd entertained unhealthy relationships with men and filled the angry void in your heart for as long as you'd allow them to before you got bored, annoyed with them, or moved on to someone new. Inevitably, talking about sneaking into Studio54 at seventeen leads you back to that sordid time after your mother died, and when Javier just presses a loving kiss to your temple and holds you close, you unburden yourself.

You tell him what happened, how devastating it was, and how guilty you felt, and how angry you were at your father. How the two of you are just too similar and by merit, are destined to always have strife no matter how much either of you try at a given time to mend things. And how you ultimately don't want to end up like him, but you fear that you will.

Javier listens and feels beguiled. You both grew up so differently, but yet there are so many commonalities you share, and the irony of how those commonalities have shaped you both dawns on him and has him wanting to steal your dejected grief and offer up something soft and doting in return.

He's not really talked much about his family, but he tells you now, and you gaze adoringly at him as he recounts stories and makes you smile when he talks so warmly about his father. Unlike you, Javi had a humble upbringing filled with hard work and love, but like you, he had a restlessness that had him bounding for bigger things – wilder places, and unlike you, he wanted to hunt for his purpose while you'd wandered into yours.

And like you, his mother had passed away at a young age, and like you, it fomented change in him and acted as a catalyst to how he feels and sees the world around him. Unlike you…he got to say goodbye to his mother, and you can see in his dark, soulful eyes how the sadness is tempered with fond love rather than resentment. It makes your heart heavy.

You rest your head on his shoulder and sigh. "…She put up with a lot, and I just never understood it. The older I got, the more it became clear that she allowed a lot to go on, and I just had no sympathy for it…for her. I would never put up with it myself, which is insane. What the hell did I even know," you murmur in a faraway tone while Javi combs his fingers through the length of your hair as it fans out down your back. Tersely, you huff at yourself and shove the sentimental anger away to sit up and shimmy off the couch. "They should be done by now. Just have to let them rest for a bit, and then we can dig in," you brusquely change subjects and hustle into the kitchen without glancing at Javi.

He watches you go and frowns, annoyed with himself for stirring up such deep-seated hurt. When you come back over once the two trays are safely cooling on the stove, Javi tows you over to sit on his lap so he can wrap his brawny arms around you and bury his face against your neck. You blink and drape your arms over his broad shoulders and bury your nose into his thick, soft hair with a docile sigh.

"So…you said you'd broom guys who'd bore or annoy you," Javi suddenly muses and tilts his face up to stare intriguingly at you, changing the subject to something he hopes will earn your mirth. "Any examples? Stuff I should make sure I don't do?" he jokes.

You snort and shift to lean sidelong into him while sitting on his lap so you can toy with the sleeve of his shirt while your other hand massages into the back of his scalp. "Hmph, this seems like treacherous terrain, guapito. Are you gonna get grouchy if I give you salacious details?" you query amusedly and soften when he rolls his eyes and leans back into the couch. "Well?"

"Unless you tell me you're still messing around with any of 'em, why would I get mad?" he counters and gives you a one-shouldered shrug.

Humming in agreement, you muse, "So, it was usually bad habits that got old or I just didn't want to put up with anymore. Mind you, I was juggling staying under the radar and not getting caught gallivanting around, so mostly I would just move on when I got tired of hanging around the same people. One guy I was hooking up with though? I liked him enough – until he told me 'We'd make beautiful babies together,' and I was so turned off I blew him off."

Javi gapes before laughing crossly. "What the fuck. What kind of fucking creep says that to a teen—?"

"Querido, I didn't really go around volunteering my age. But yeah, it was annoying so I scoffed, walked out of the club and took a cab to another club," you snicker and shake his shoulder wryly when he gives you what you've labeled his 'cop stare' – the brooding scowl that etches into a terse glare when he's calculating maleficence. "Or ugh – cheap guys! I once got into an argument with a guy for not tipping a waitress after he'd been a real jerk most of the dinner, so I tipped her and told him to fuck off," you regale as you reminisce and glower at the memory. "Oh, and—" you go to say another habit, but derail yourself when you realize something, so you make a silly scoff and try to obfuscate. "Never mind."

"…No, what were you gonna say?" Javi needles and intensifies his brewed stare on you. Hesitantly, you press your lips together and huff, not really wanting to say, but he just raises an eyebrow at you, so you relent.

"...Smokers…" you mumble in a small little voice and blink demurely at him before adding quickly, "But, like, the really obnoxious ones that smoke everywhere and all the damn time."

Javi smugly adjusts you on his lap so he can reach for his cigarettes. "Oh, is that right?" he drawls and fishes one out goadingly. When you scoff and roll your eyes at him, he tosses the pack to the coffee table and holds the lighter tentatively.

"Well…I mean, you know smoking is bad for you," you lilt and pluck the lighter from his fingers and toy with it, as if deliberating lighting the cigarette he's got balanced between his pillowed lips. "And it's so annoying when you're somewhere and the smoker has to go off, or you get told you have to leave because it's a no-smoking area. I almost lost out on meeting David Bowie backstage because the guy I was with got into an argument with a roadie about smoking in the hall." With that, you flick the lighter on and light his cigarette for him before plucking it from his lips and taking a pull of it yourself.

Stunned, he watches you inhale a drag, and exhale a smoke ring up into the air before grimacing at the acrid taste and handing the cigarette back.

"So is this your subtle way of saying I should quit?" Javi jokes – taking a drag before setting the cigarette aside on the lip of the ashtray and exhaling the smoke while you adjust to lie back on the opposite armrest from him.

"I'm not going to tell you what to do," you tell him and drape your legs over his lap. "It's just something I'll put up with," you chime cunningly and grin when he shoots you a derisive look at that.

"Oh? How magnanimous of you," he drawls in a velvet-over-steel rumble and affectionately squeezes your calf. "You have plenty of bad habits I put up with too, you know," Javi muses as an aside while he reaches for his whiskey and takes a casual sip.

Riling coyly at that, you press your legs cheekily down on his lap and grunt. "¿Ah, sí?" you ask, feigning a testy demeanor, and deadpan, "Like?"

Smugly, he sets his drink aside and leans sideways to drape his arm over your thighs as he confides, "Besides being so fucking stubborn sometimes?" and when you pout, he adds amusedly, "You have this bad habit of flipping your hair back and slapping me in the face with it when you sleep."

You stare at him before bursting into a laughing streak that goes from cackling to effervescent giggles into a discordant sigh as you cover your mouth to hide your stupid grin while you snap, "You're making that up!"

"I am not," he muses firmly, twisting his lips and arching his brows in a silly mueca that says, 'nope, it's fact!' before drawling, "Almost every time you roll over in your sleep, I get whipped in the face by your hair."

"Why haven't you said anything before?!" you wail lamely and swat his arm.

"Because it isn't something you do on purpose," he snickers and smirks when you frown and affectionately squeeze his bicep while you hum deprecatingly. "Oh, another thing you do is use me as a body pillow—"

"Oh my god, shut up you do the same thing, Javier," you accuse and laugh, shoving him lightly so he has to sit up and you can shift to lounge against him now. "One time, I laid still for an hour staring at the ceiling because you threaded your leg in between mine and draped yourself over my chest," you chide, and giggle at his dubious frown. "And? You snore! Like a big, overgrown pussycat," you tease in a derisively chimed tone and wiggle your brows challengingly at him.

Javi gives you a wicked smirk, the kind that crinkles his soulful eyes and has his dimple showing out, as he purrs, "Well, you are what you eat."

You gasp and swat him in scandalized delight. "Beyako," you exclaim breathily and feign outrage when he pulls you against him as he lounges completely onto his back, forcing you to drape over him and stare down at his sinfully smirking features. His lips look too good not to kiss, so you lean down and capture them, molding yours reverently against his and humming after he deepens the kiss.

When you shift on top of him, Javi's sporting a semi, and you skittishly adjust your house dress to hide how bare and wet you are underneath, but he cheekily tugs it loose again and slips his hands up to caress your thighs and slide his palms up to your hips.

"Oh, no. We can't!" you exclaim begrudgingly and slap his hands down before he can grip your bare backside and pull you onto him. "Not until I take an ibuprofen and you have my lasagna," is your reproachful hiss as you lightly roughhouse with him to scamper off his lap.

Javi actually pouts, but relents and sits up to follow you to the kitchen, where you bossily point at him to sit at the table and wait to be served. Grunting, he gives you a charming smirk and does so once he's brought your drink glasses over and refreshes them. Sitting across from him once you've placed the plate with a piping hot slice of lasagna on it and a garlic knot aside it, you train your features into a pleasant poker face. All the while, though, you are charged with electric excitement, eager to see his reaction.

His mouth was watering the moment you dribbled extra sauce over it, and now as he pops a piece into his mouth, Javi swears all his tastes buds fall over in overcome wonder. "Oh fuck…this is damned delicious," he declares and keeps eating, and you are elated, beaming as he uses the knot to sop up some of the sauce. "Screw my huevos rancheros. This is way better."

"They're not the same prep, babe. It's an unfair comparison," you giggle and eat from your plate, eyes crested happily as he keeps eating and humming in delight. "If you want, I can pack some for you to share with Steve—"

"Fuck that. I'm not sharing. That tray is all mine," he growls stingily before drinking his whiskey.

You laugh and continue to delight is the sheer gusto of feeding your lover your specialty and having him over the moon.

Another slice later, and Javi is gorged and docile on the couch while you clean and pack everything up for tomorrow. Whilst he drowsily watches you work in the kitchen, he can't help fawn at the thought of becoming fat and happy under your loving and culinary grace. He wants nothing more than to get lost in the softness of this tranquil life with you, and the prospect of his real life pushing into it snaps him out of his doze to ruminate.

When you're finished in the kitchen, you dry your hands and go over to sit on the edge of the couch cushion and smile down at him as he focuses his brewed, molten chocolate eyes on you and smirks. "Ellis is picking me up tomorrow, so you'll be able to sneak off with your lasagna once I'm out," you quip and play with the curls of his hair that fan out over his forehead.

He exhales noisily and closes his eyes. "That's fine. I'll be over late and just let myself in," he purrs and bounces his brows, "Seeing as I have a key—"

"Mmhmm, you're not gonna doze off here, galán," you cut in and jostle him playfully. "C'mon – you're going to bed," is your sigh as you grab his wrists and start to pull him to sit up.

Javi lets you, and once you are pouting at how heavy he is, he lumbers up and yawns before encircling his arm around your waist and pulling you along with him. The food coma is such that the minute you climb into bed next to him and shut the light off, Javi is on his side and snoring, which makes you giggle. You curl up to spoon him and fall fast asleep too. He's still sleeping like a log when you wake up and get ready the next morning, and you kiss his cheek before sneaking out to meet Ellis at the curb.

The day goes by in a whirlwind that includes meeting with HR, having a formal statement taken about what happened with Danvers, and being showered with check-ins from people who heard what happened. By lunchtime, the Mil Group guys are singing your praises with mouthfuls of lasagna, and you thank them for their helping role in the whole matter.

Riding home with Ellis, he insists on carpooling indefinitely until you're 100% again, and you acquiesce, having talked to Javi about it and agreed that it would be better than rendezvousing for the time being. After all, he and Steve are on pins and needles waiting for the proverbial shit to hit the fan, and they're gearing up for the possible fallout. By the time you're half asleep in bed later that night, you hear the key slip into the lock down the hall. A few minutes later, Javi is crawling into bed next to you, warm and naked after stripping quietly. You're mindful not to whip him in the face with your hair as you shift in bed to have him spoon you.

"…Steve was jealous of my lunch today. Demanded to have a little piece, but I refused," he mumbles gloatingly, and you hum amusedly.

"What a spoiled brat you are," you murmur and smile into his throat when you tilt your face back and nuzzle him.

He snorts and kisses you, cuddling you and relishing how you curl back against him.

The next few days are pleasant and become routine, and you're finding a longing for it to become permanent – having Javi live with you, to wake up and go to sleep together, but of course, that's too much to ask. Especially when on the fourth day, just as you and Javi are having dinner, his satellite phone rings.

"—So, I just got a call from Noonan's office saying she wants to see us tomorrow afternoon. Any idea what that's about?" Steve asks Javi. "Could it be over you-know-what?"

Squaring his jaw, Javi tells him he'll find out. Once he's hung up with Steve, he asks to use your phone, and while you're wrapping up the leftovers, you hear him speaking to someone about 'hitting the stands' and when he comes back into the kitchen, you see his worried look flicker across his features before he sets his expression into coolness. "Well, they're dropping the story tomorrow," he rumbles and leans against the counter, exhaling as he rubs his temples.

"Ok…maybe Noonan got a heads up about it?" you muse and turn the faucet off, drying your hands and going over to lean your hip into the kitchen island and wait for him to collect his thoughts.

"Guess we'll find out," he huffs and goes to call Steve back.

He's tense the rest of the night, so when you're in bed together, you sidle close to him and murmur in the dark, "I forgot to tell you something really important."

Shifting to pull you close, Javi caresses your hair and trails his hand to rub your shoulder. "Tell me what?"

Leaning up to trace your fingertips reverently over his chiseled features, you susurrate, "I love you."

The tension melts out of him and he chuckles softly before rolling to frame you under him so he can trail possessive kisses along your jaw, across your cheekbone, and over your lips.

"You're so fucking good to me, querida," he murmurs heatedly before kissing your neck and husking, "I love you."

You blossom under him with elated desire, and when you make love, you swear nothing could feel as good as being under Javi, clinging to him as he plucks pleasure and delight from your cloying core and feeling him rock his bliss into you.

The feeling is so potent that it stays with you throughout the following day – until all hell breaks loose in the embassy when El Espectador goes public with the leaked photos and story corroborated by sources that could've only come from the consulate. The media is in a frenzy, and the whole day the news reports are on every television left idling in the building. You worry about Javi all day, and when you don't hear from him, you curb the impulse of calling him.

You don't know he got suspended indefinitely, or that Steve went MIA. When you hear the gossip from Ellis on the drive home about how the ambassador suspended the two DEA field agents, you are anxious to get upstairs and call him. His satellite phone rings incessantly, but he never answers. You tell yourself he and Steve are probably busy trying to transfer surveillance details to whomever their backups will be, so when he doesn't show up for dinner or call, you're not worried. But when you lie in bed for hours, hyperaware of every noise outside and anticipating the sound of the key slipping into the lock that never comes, then, you start to worry.

Sitting in bed with the cordless phone, you dial his apartment, and get no answer. Then you try his satellite phone again, and it just rings. Really worried now, you get up and go sit in the living room, deciding you can't just lie in bed all night, so you might as well turn the TV on. After you see the bulletin about the siege at La Catedral, you immediately know why Javi is MIA, and it gives you some solace in your panic.

What you don't know is that Javi spent most of the night sitting at a bar with his C.I., Navegante. Javi is so demoralized by the whole sordid day of panic and high-stakes stress looking for Steve that he just sits there and drinks, not even caring that the Cali-affiliated sicario was sitting blithely next to him and cajoling him on the merits of working towards the same end with the rival narco-syndicate of the Medellín cartel.

Javier musingly declines, not in the mood after being accused by Steve of selling him out. He'd done no such thing, but when his partner had told him they had tapes of him giving the La Dispensaria intel, Javi knew his suspicions about their communications being intercepted were justified. Cali clearly had a much more sophisticated operation than Medellín, but he'd need to find out how deep it went.

When the news about the siege breaks, Javier calls Steve and tells him Escobar escaped. How does he already know? From Navegante, who'd taken a call on his own satellite phone and gotten the confirmation from eyes on the ground.

He's fishing out a few bills to leave on the sidebar so he can stalk out and go pick up his partner when the other man swivels in the stool and catches his eye. "Bueno, parce," Navegante drawls before sitting back in his swaggered gait onto the stool to remark, "I just hope you and your partner have a better sense on your priorities now that Escobar is on the loose. Would be a shame if you didn't."

Javi flashes his hard stare over at the balding man. "That sounds like a threat, so if you're going to have the balls to make one, be plain about it," Javi snaps and levels him with a stony expression.

"No threat. Just sayin', it's hard to be on the hunt when you got a lovely little bird in waiting, drawing your attention to home…" the light-eyed sicario muses neutrally before standing and nodding curtly at Javi in farewell and sauntering out of the bar.

His blood runs cold while his chest burns with anxiety. The motherfucker just indirectly threatened you, and all he could do was sit there and boil over. His heart was pounding, muscles roiling with the urge to run out and throttle the man into the pavement, but all that would do is make a horrendous situation completely fucking untenable.

No, he needs time to think – to figure out what the hell to do now that a play for leverage has been made to Steve and to him by the Cali cartel. They were dangerous – cunning where Medellín cartel was devious and murderous. There was no telling what they could be playing at, and while yes, removing a rival from the field was at the top of the list, certainly sidelining or eliminating potential threats had to be right up there in priority.

All Javi keeps coming back to in his turbulent thoughts, is the need to protect you. So, while he and Steve ride out to Medellín for their chance at picking up the trail of Escobar, he's keeping his cards close to the vest now, and purposely deciding to keep you in the dark until he figures something out.

You spend most of the next day eager to hear from him, having ended up passing out on the couch in front of the TV and waking up all out of sorts. At work when you can't help your thoughts churn worriedly, you have to admonish yourself. He told you he might need to go MIA, so stop being a clingy bitch. Eventually, he'll call, when he can.

That's what you tell yourself over and over, and by the time you're saying it again while packing up at the end of the day, you're starting to believe it. Then, at happy hour, you overhear that Murphy had gotten snatched and was missing for most of the day yesterday, and your heart stops until Lou crassly snipes that he ended up waltzing into the embassy like he'd come back from a bender after Peña spent the whole day chasing down his whereabouts.

"—Assholes took a chopper out first thing to go to the prison too," the colonel grumbles and shakes his head as he tells Luke that at the very least, the U.S. were going to be allowed to be part of the manhunt now, so that could mean more field work for him and the other guys.

By the time you get home, you're buzzing, desperately wanting to call and check on Javi. When you sit on the edge of your seat in the living room and dial his number, it just rings again, so you sigh and give up, setting the receiver aside and leaning back into the couch cushions. You don't know that when you call, Javi is face down in the sorry bunk bed he had to crash on for the night at the barracks, drunk and dead to the world and the ringing phone discarded on the unused desk in the corner.

After having a ball pilfering through the remnants of La Catedral to end up setting up shop in the makeshift bullpen they set up on Carlos Holguín premises, they'd gotten the lead on La Quica, and he'd spent yet another afternoon chasing fucking sicarios only to lose them in the market. All while Steve was off getting himself arrested at the airport for taking out his frustrations on the coke-headed yuppies in the bathroom after missing stopping Connie from absconding to Miami. The entire ordeal had left Javi so furious and filled with impotent rage that he took it out on his liver, drinking alone until he couldn't see straight and passed out on his side. The alcohol not only numbed his wrath, but it silenced the longing.

He longed for you – yearned to reach out and hear your voice, to tell you he was ok, but he knew he couldn't lie to you. Not with the pendulous threat hovering over his head now, and knowing that you would refuse him and defy any caution if it meant putting you out of harm's way at the cost of his need and your love. It swirled in his head before he passed out, and once he came to and swayed up to sit and hunch over with a pained grunt, Javi resolved that he would keep you safe, even if it meant alienating you. His heart hurt, but he swallowed it and let the loathing cajole him. It was only a matter of time before you pushed her away anyway. You never deserved something so great. You're lucky to have had it for as long as you have—

A knock on the door derails his self-loathing musings before the door is opened and Trujillo pokes his head in. "They're calling you from the embassy."

Hung over and sulking, Javi nods and waves him off so he can change and pretend like he didn't sleep in his clothes after sweating his ass off chasing La Quica across rooftops. Once he's at least wearing a fresh shirt, he goes down to the makeshift bullpen and takes the call.

"Peña," he answers crisply and sits on the edge of the desk to not look obviously still a little drunk.

"Some shit's brewing over here, and since it's gonna end up hasslin' the whole lot of us, I figured I'd tell yah to bring your ass back to Bogotá," Lou is snapping in his usual gruff drawl, which instantly snaps Javi to straighten and sneer.

"Could you be a little more specific?" Javi snipes and scrubs the heel of his hand over his right eye before wringing it across his aching forehead.

"You're lucky I've told you this much, Peña," the colonel grumbles and pointedly hangs up.

Huffing, he drops the phone onto its cradle. "Well, I wanted to get the fuck out of here anyway," Javier mutters to himself as he lumbers up and off to get ready.

A whole week goes by, and you don't hear from Javi.

In that time, though, everything gets thrown into disarray. Entire heads of agencies are replaced almost overnight, and when Noonan gets rotated out, you know shit's about to get real. You just don't know how real until you come in one morning with Ellis and hear the news from your boss.

All pilot program operations are on-hold until the new ambassador is in-country and assesses prioritization of inter-agency systems, and you and Ellis spend most of the lead up to that scrambling to pause requisitions with vendors and recalibrate C.O. operations. It's stressful, but it mercifully keeps you busy and distracted from worrying about Javi.

Your calls have gone unanswered, and you're morose when you're sitting quietly with your anxious thoughts, wondering what's happened, and if Javi has just been away – juggling on-site work while Steve was sidelined. Yep – you'd heard the gossip about the hot-headed blond ending up in the drunk tank for beating the shit out of stockbrokers in the airport bathroom, so when you reasonably considered how fucked that was for the brass to have to deal with, you figured it was bedlam for Javi.

All of your concerns have kept you tangled up – objectively detached from your feelings of abandonment, from the nagging voices telling you Javier is probably in Medellín filling the void with other women. You're able to fend off the disdainful litany in your mind – until you find out Javier has been in Bogotá since the day after Murphy had been arrested, so that means he's avoided you completely for over a week.

The realization sinks your heart like a stone into the well of your stomach, and you have to sit in the break room pretending you aren't utterly crushed while the Centra Spike guys keep talking between themselves about how they'd been meeting with Peña all week to discuss a system for aligning tip-line reports with aerial surveillance sweeps. You are so numb that when you get back to your desk, you stare at your computer blankly while you deliberate what to do. The temptation to snatch the phone up and call his office is only quelled by the realization that you might fall apart at work if he answers.

The chance that he'll pretend like he's not avoided you like the plague, or worse – that he'll dismiss you, is too potent a deterrent to your ire, so you suppress it.

The lump is in your throat, and you only ease it loose when you and Ellis report to your boss' office and find out you have a meeting with the new ambassador tomorrow morning. He hands you both a copy of all the new agency org charts, and your eyes widen at the familiar name at the top.

After you get home, you're fidgety with anxious stress, and despite your better judgment, you try calling Javi again. His apartment line rings without answer, and when you try his satellite phone, it rings as if it's been turned off. Sighing, you feel the anger starting to slow burn in your gut, but even still, that small little voice is trying to make excuses. Maybe something happened, and it was bad enough that he has to stay away?

Scowling, you decide you have to compartmentalize this. So, you do, and by the time you're at the embassy with your boss and Ellis, waiting outside of the conference room for your turn in with the ambassador the next morning, the cold, collected demeanor you've honed after years of disappointment and stultifying rage needing to marry into iron control serves you well. You're dressed sharply, hair coifed and lush, and your expression is placidly cool. You look unflappable, and you feel it, will turned to steel as you focus on being prepared for the meeting. It all helps, especially when the conference room door finally opens and the meeting lets out.

Lou greets you when you stand and head over to wait for the room to clear, only to come practically face-to-face with Javier as he strides out with Ed from Centra Spike ahead of him. Your eyes meet, and you feel like you've been shot when he flicks his aloof stare away to answer something Ed asks him off to the side. He's wearing that light-tan suit, looking appointed but still ruffled, and when the room clears after the new DEA country attaché and a casually-dressed steely-eyed man you can only assume is the new CIA station chief waltz out, you politely signal Lou you're heading in and say goodbye as you lope in on your pumps and set your shoulders back confidently. All the while though, you're internally roiling with upset, very much miffed and put out by Javier's nonchalance. But should you be? After all, it's not like you would be fine with him approaching you at work in front of colleagues anyway, so could it be all pretense?

He's not given you the time of fucking day ALL WEEK and he promised he would at least warn you if he ever had to put distance between you, so no – it's not pretense!

Fuming internally, you admonish yourself further and just block out everything. You're so mad, you don't catch Javi lingering in the hall chatting with stragglers from the meeting and covertly glancing at you from the corner of his eye as Ellis and your boss follow suit into the conference room.

"Well! What a small world I find myself in," Javi hears Crosby, the new ambassador, exclaim jovially as he goes to leave, so he pauses and glances back through the still-open conference room door. He sees you smiling and shaking the man's hand, but what catches his discerning stare is the twinkle in the eye he swears he sees gleam when Crosby intones charismatically, "Who'd a thunk it – the little wild hellion, all grown up. It's great to see you, darlin'!"

Smiling, you warmly but curtly muse, "It's an honor to be at your service, ambassador—"

"Ah, none of that shit. You call me Arthur, sweetie," the distinguished older man cuts in firmly and pats your shoulder before turning his attention to shake Ellis and your boss's hands in greeting.

Once his secretary comes in and shuts the door, you miss the fact that Javi had been eavesdropping and seen the entire exchange. Instead, you silently brood about how angry you are with him while you sit there and brief the ambassador of your department's work and the status of the program. He is impressed, and tells you all as much, before he drops the bomb:

"I want that program reformatted for essential embassy personnel only, and all coordination with inter-agencies will be on-hold permanently. Frankly, I don't think assets in the field are worth expending the resources in training and onboarding to something so sophisticated. Office staff is a different matter, though, so I'd like your department to see to it that every admin in this building and officials across all chains of command are setup in the program immediately," the glacier-eyed man declares, and while you internally wind up, you nod in acquiescence while your boss discusses possible time tables for the endeavor to be completed by.

By the time you're at your desk, you are seething. All your hard work is being downsized to basic OS training for every secretary in the building, and anyone who could actually benefit from your systems is now effectively too indispensible to be bothered with it.

"Well, after that, I could use a drink," Ellis deadpans as he swivels over to you in his desk chair. "How's the side these days?"

"Much better. The bruise is faded, and aside from being a bit tender if I lean too hard on something, it doesn't hurt at all," you remark as you rub at your eyes and sigh. "Can I get a raincheck on happy hour? I'm exhausted…"

"Sure thing, girlie," Ellis pats your shoulder reassuringly.

Once you're home, you drop everything on your coffee table so you can yank your heels off and angrily chuck them down the hall like they're boomerangs before snatching your blouse off your head and storming down to your room and stripping so you can pace in your bra and panties angrily.

Maybe he'll come over tonight now that you've seen him? Or…or maybe he'll call?

That intrepid little voice insists, and you scoff at yourself, irascible now as you go into the bathroom to get some ibuprofen out of the medicine cabinet so you can try and stave off the throbbing at your temples. When you open the cabinet and reach for the bottle, you end up staring at the toiletries that Javi stored there, and when you just glare at his shaving cream for a second much too longer, something snaps in you. Before your rational mind can make sense of what you're doing, you've stormed to the kitchen, and gotten a big brown paper shopping bag. Livid, you are hastily stalking into your room and yanking items out of the closet, and tossing his shirts onto the bed before you move on to the drawer filled with his folded clothes and empty it out.

Crisply folding everything so it's compact in the bag, you storm back into the bathroom and empty anything that's Javi's into the same bag and snatch it up to be placed by the door as you go and hurriedly get dressed into a asymmetrical green t-shirt and fitted jeans before sliding into a pair of leather flats and bounding back down to grab the bag, your purse and keys before rushing out the door.

Sunset is already cresting in the horizon and turning the sky blush and orange, but you're on rage autopilot, so you don't enjoy the lovely view. Instead, you drive across the city and look for the street in question, boiling with seething acrimony as you find a spot and park. Yanking your purse to be across your shoulders before snatching the bag from the backseat and hustling across the quiet street up to the apartment block, you are fuming – on slow burn with simmering fury. Finding the building by the number on the front façade, you bound up the stoop steps. Your eyes narrow as they check the buzzard board and find that it's the correct building, so you go to press the button when someone opens the door and exits. You politely nod to the man and use the opportunity to breeze through the lobby door and look for the door in question.

Finding it on the main level, you steel yourself, and with a sobering, crackling breath, you bang on the door and wait.

After a few tense seconds, you hear the muffled heavy footfalls trudging over to the door before it's opened.

Javi stares wide-eyed at you, completely disarmed. He's still in his dress shirt and slacks, but his tie and jacket are gone and the first three buttons of his shirt collar are undone, hair messy from impulsively running his fingers through it and fisting the strands in frustration and shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

"Oh, good – you're not dead, so here!" you snap disparagingly and unceremoniously shove the shopping bag filled with all his stuff into his chest and hiss, "Thank you, and have a great life, you puto malparido—!"

You're about to furiously stalk away when Javier snaps out of his shock to toss the bag he's trying to juggle down into the threshold as he huffs and lunges to snatch your arm and reel you back. "Wait a fucking minute—!"

Wrathfully, you lash your arm away and hiss, "Spare me! Take your shit y jódete—!"

Javier growls as he struggles to grab you as you thwart him from snatching your forearms to try reining you in. So, he impatiently lassos his arm around your waist and effortlessly hoists you up and onto his shoulder, carrying you into his apartment while you gasp in outrage and start thrashing. He punts the paper bag to slide across the tiled floor out of the doorway so he can kick the door closed after himself while he pins your legs down behind your knees and broodingly stalks into the main room of his apartment while you seethe irately, "You fucking cabrón—let me go!"

You're so appalled that you start to yank hard on the back of his shirt, and when he's approaching a big, leather couch, you rile and growl, "Maldito puñetero—if you put me on that couch, I'll kill you."

Steering away, Javier snarls and stalks with you on his shoulder, gritting his jaw as you start smacking his back fumingly while he prowls into his bedroom. As soon as he's in range of his bed, he tosses you onto it.

"You wanna scream at me? FINE!" Javi bellows while you bounce on his bed and thrash up into an exasperated crouch. "But you're not going to get to do it and fucking storm off like a goddamned brat!"

Furious, you fitfully yank your purse off your shoulders and throw it at him, thwacking him hard on the chest before it hits the floor, and then you pull your shoes off and lob them at his head, but they sail by him from how he agilely dodges the leather projectiles as you rail, "You fucking bastard! After you fall off the face of the goddamned earth—leave me dangling like a fucking fool while you strut around the fucking building like más macho, you have the audacity to call me a goddamned brat?!"

When Javier wavers, you scoff and bound to get off his bed in order to storm by him, but he grabs you and wrestles you back. "Fuck, querida—just stop!" he barks and manhandles you onto the bed. You exclaim your scoff and wring in his grip, so mad your vision is shaking. "Dammit, listen to me! Just-fucking-stop-and-listen," he growls ferociously at you and pins you to the bed with his torso, large hands pressing your wrists into the mattress as he looms over you and bores his smoldering glare into your fierce glower.

You're both breathing hard, tempers hazing over as you stare at each other and try to regain your cool, which isn't really happening now that you're pressed against each other. Javi's got you across his bed and under him, with his narrow hips between your thighs, and you have no purchase to hook your heels under you and push up. The heat of his skin under his clothes is distracting, and the way his dark eyes lower to your lips when you breathily exhale and shift under him has arousal blooming in your core.

His warm breath puffs out against your cheek as he takes you in, besotted all over again and yearning to have you. Javier had been lonesome and surly all week, longing to be with you, but resolute about staying away and keeping you out of the disaster his life had become overnight. But now, with you looking like a fury incarnate at his door? After he'd been punched in the gut at seeing you look so devastatingly ravishing when he'd walked out of the conference room? His resolve had faltered – was faltering completely now that he has you warm and alluringly stretched out under him. He's fixating on how soft you feel, on how good you smell, sighing when you gaze bemusedly up at him while he wars with his desire.

"Javier…" you begin to whisper, but find your mind going blank when he gropes his hands down your forearms so he can pet your hair from your face while slipping his other warm palm to the small of your back, pressing you flush to his pelvis. Just as you stutter a breath, Javi leans in and kisses you.

The contact is electric, and your mouth is his as you clutch your hands around him and cling to him desperately. He growls and grabs at you, pulling you into his arms as he deepens the kiss while you hum and tug at his shirt. The heat in you both has all anger scalding out of you the more you kiss and revel in each other, gravitation buzzing between you and feeding your lust after so much stress and angst.

Sitting up, you impatiently start pulling his shirt loose from his slacks and hurriedly unbuttoning it while Javi works your fitted jeans open and starts peeling them off your hips. Hungrily, you unfasten his belt and shrug out of your shirt once he's tugging it off your head after discarding your jeans, but you are resolute in getting his pants off, so you slap his hands away and hiss, "Déjame hacerlo," nuzzling his throat and working his slacks open while he shudders and grunts impatiently down at you.

As he's kicking his shoes and pants off, you forcefully loop your arms around his shoulders and haul him down to lie on top of you and claim his lips with yours, anchoring him down by wrapping your legs around his waist. Javi groans, and starts to work your bra undone and off while you roll across his bed until you're on top of him and he can yank your panties off while you shove his underwear down and suckle needy kisses into his neck and shoulder.

When he suddenly rolls you again so he can fondle his touch down your body as you both kick the last of your clothes off, you whine heatedly when he cups his fingers down your crotch and rubs your dripping pussy, causing you to arch and open your legs to him.

"Fuck, you're so wet," he rumbles against your neck before grazing his teeth down your pulse line to clamp his mouth over the juncture of neck and shoulder as he starts to part your slick folds and dip his fingers into your yearning cunt.

Your entire body spasms and arches when he presses his thumb flush against your clit and grinds the pad wantonly over your pulsing bud, leaving you aching and soaked with arousal as you cling to him and whimper into his jaw.

Writhing around the strong fingers pumping into your wet heat, you cry ardently, "Oh god, please, Javi. I need you."

In one swift motion, Javi picks you up by your thighs and hoists you up so he can pivot you down into the pillows and roll his hips to rut his throbbing cock through your drenched petals before he rocks slowly into you with carnal prowess, inching into you and groaning from how tense and tight your silken heat is.

Javi revels in thrusting home into you and feeling your fingertips knead into his back before adjusting his next stroke to brush into that angle that lights you up with pleasure. Your toes curl and your knees bend to cling to his sides as he fucks you like a man who's been lost without your grace, moaning and showering you with kisses and husky rumbles of carnality as your tight cunt ripples ravenously around him. Starting to tremble with an impending orgasm, you dig your nails into his back and wail a reedy mewl before gasping, "Oh god, oh god—Ja-Javi!"

He barrels his thrusts into a quicker pace and groans against your jaw as he grabs your hips and starts guiding them to grind against him, which ruts your clit against his pubic bone as he drills his cock so deep that you burn up and cry out in shocked rapture as you climax and dissolve in pleasure under him. Sparks singe wildly in the backs of your eyes as Javi prolongs your bliss, stroking his cock through your fluttering walls until he suddenly pulls out of your eager pussy and leans back on his haunches shakily just to watch you keep coming until you're dripping your ecstasy onto his sheets.

This has been his fantasy, and finally, its reality. You, naked and writhing on his bed, sweaty and wet from being fucked senseless by him and staring sinfully up at him with glossed-over eyes, flushed cheeks and panting plush lips. He wants to savor the moment – afraid it won't happen again, so, he lovingly caresses your thighs, fondles your warm breasts, and delights in your sultry reactions.

When you regain your senses, you whimper and reach for him, murmuring, "Mi amor, pl-please."

Javi shivers and kisses your hand when you laboriously sit up and caress his cheek and rest your forehead against his.

"Querida, I never wanted to hurt you," he tells you tensely, and you are so blissed out you just try to cuddle him. "I-I just want to protect you—"

"Shh, Javi…I need you. Please, let me have you," you mumble into his cheek before kissing a path to his mouth and capturing his full lips with your own.

A primal urge ignites in Javi at your needy petition, and when you scrape your teeth over that sweet spot under his jaw, you rile that base fire out of him. With a feral growl, he spins you around to face the wall above his bed and yanks your hips back to straddle his thighs while he anchors his hand possessively at the back of your trapezius to angle you into gripping the top of the bed for purchase as he shoves his cock back into your still-quivering pussy.

"Javi!" you moan and buck back against him, gasping as he starts to fuck into you with sheer abandon, which rocks you into coiled-up delight as another aching orgasm starts to flutter from your womb whilst he snaps his hips into you from behind.

"—Drive me crazy—going to be the fucking end of me—look so fucking sexy," he growls as he fucks you, tightening his grip on your sloping shoulder muscle as he bottoms out in you and hisses, "F-Feel like fucking heaven—never want to let you go—!"

"Y-You don't have to," you gasp out and cry a mewling sound when he hunches over you as he thrusts roughly into your pulsing sheath and reaches around your hip to tease your clit. The combination is too much, and you whimper an airy sound before rambling, "Oh Javi-nngnth! Oh god, Javi, gonna come—"

"C-Come on my cock. C'mon—f-feel you getting so fucking tight. Go ahead, baby, come all over me—" he's grousing in a dark husk as he speeds up his thrusts at the feeling of your muscles flexing and your body bowing under the onslaught, and when he grinds his fingers devastatingly over your clit, you choke on your cry and stammer rapturous sounds through your incinerating orgasm, gushing warmth over his lap as he keeps pounding you onto his cock before he wraps his arms around your waist to steady your spasm-ravaged, writhing form.

You're mindlessly whimpering your moans, feeling ruined and ravished as you cling to his forearms and pant shallow breaths, head bowed and hair fanning around your face to hide the tears in your eyes after coming apart so fiercely. You're shaking and breathless, feeling high from the orgasm and lightheaded after going from furious anger to rapacious desire.

"Mmm, good girl," Javi rumbles and nudges his forehead in a primal show of dominance against you before purring, "Wanted this for so long, preciosa."

You sigh and lean back against his chest, coming down from the rapturous delight to dimly realize his cock is still rock-hard inside you and throbbing. Bemused, you reach your arms over your shoulders to loop behind Javi's nape so you can anchor into him when you turn to nuzzle his neck.

He kisses your temple and chuckles when you start to undulate your hips. Cupping his hands up your body to fondle your warm tits and tease your nipples, Javi murmurs gloatingly, "You were all fiery just a bit ago, and now you're this sweet little thing, pussy all wet and eager—"

That snaps a bit of your outrage free of its sex-addled prison, and before Javi has registered the shift, you buck him off and whirl around to shove him backwards onto the bed before you pounce on him like a femme fatale, eyes blazing with provocative authority as you straddle his hips and squeeze his pectorals with your hands warningly.

"Descarado, you really gonna taunt me?!" you hiss incandescently as you lean down and ghost your lips over his before diving forward to suckle his pouty bottom lip into your mouth, worrying it with your blunt teeth. Javier's startled exhale comes out as a strangled gasp as his hands snatch around your waist and grip you excitedly. Freeing his lip and swiping your tongue into his mouth when it falls open to his heady groan, you let his tongue flick against yours before you shock him again by fisting a hand in the back of his hair and tugging to expose his strong, corded neck. He stutters a heated exhale when you dip to lick at his Adam's apple before suckling kisses into the column of his throat as you pivot your pelvis backwards to edge your dripping pussy over his ramrod cock.

"Oh f-fuck, mi amor—" Javi stammers huskily when you scrape your teeth down the side of his neck lightly before biting into his trapezius and sucking hard. He grouses inarticulately and arches under you, so you hum wickedly and release his hair so you can nudge him possessively with your nose digging into that soft spot under his jaw as you suckle a kiss there and start to plunge your tight, tingling cunt onto his throbbing dick. Javi moans your name and digs his fingertips into your ass when you buck hard down on him and whimper against his skin in accomplishment.

"How cute, my big strong stud likes to get manhandled by—what did you call me? A sweet little thing, was it?" you condescend sultrily and nip at his earlobe as you fuck yourself roughly onto his cock while he writhes and flexes with raunchy delight under you. "You love when I ride your fucking cock like this, when I mark you all up as mine?"

Javi shudders and groans in approval, tossing his head back and grinding out through clenched jaw, "Yes, fuck—yes, querida." You moan and keep riding him, knees tightening against his sides as you concentrate on clamping your floor muscles around his cock as you grind down on him. Javi lights up with pleasure and cries out a hoarse, "Oh fuck, mmmph, b-baby—!" just as you possessively grope your hands down his broad chest and plant them at his sternum so you can adjust the angle of your hips and slam Javi deeper.

Completely vibrating with need now, Javi watches with lust-dark eyes as you ride him with passion, completely enamored with how your hair bounces wildly around you, how your mouth falls open on a breathy moan, and how you're flushed and dewy as your glorious body works your pleasure over him and plucks his own so expertly.

When you feel his cock start to twitch and swell inside your clenching sheath, you plant your hands at his forearms and hold on as you roll your hips over him and clutch him greedily. Javi chokes on a husky moan and barrels up to embrace you and help you get there with him. Just as you get lost in his brawny arms squeezing you while you grind down hard on him, Javi whimpers gruffly into your neck and tenses as he starts to come, and you gasp and cling to him as his hips instinctually buck up into you while he pounds you down onto his lap. He's completely mindless in his blinding release, strength becoming brutish as he grips you to him and keeps fucking into you until he growls at you squirming as you start to come when his cock keeps grinding into the cluster of pleasure buried inside you.

You stifle your startled little mewl against his shoulder and cling to him as he prolongs both your ecstasy, feeling awash with savage completion as his cock spills thick warmth inside your pulsing core. His climax was so pent-up and fierce that you swear he's still pumping you with cum even when he shakily exhales and wilts heavily against you, raggedly panting and groaning from the raucously fulfilling session of make-up sex.

At some point, you both collapse down to the sheets, sweaty and spent heaps cuddled lazily together while you recover. While you lie there with your eyes closed, catching your own shallow breath, you relish the low hum of the air conditioning, the cool, comfortable chill in the air that's licking at your dewy skin, and the scent of a warm and sweaty Javi pressed up next to you. Leaning your head on his shoulder, you sigh and smile when he turns his head and nuzzles your hairline.

"Ok, fine…this is a nice, big bed," you pipe up nonchalantly after a comfortable silence, and when he chuckles, you add in a sigh, "And the air conditioning isn't bad either."

Brushing his nose affectionately to your cheekbone before planting a kiss to your cheek, he drawls, "Told you, bravita."

You grunt and open your eyes to glance alluringly at him, but you're still too wrecked to really move, so you extend your arm up so you can caress the backs of your knuckles along his chin. "Finally got me here, chulito," you snicker sweetly and smile, eyes twinkling when he grins and that delectable dimple appears, making him look debonairly boyish. "Could I trouble you for a drink?"

He grunts charismatically and pecks you on the lips before sitting up and rumbling, "Let me see if I can walk first."

You giggle and stretch out as you close your eyes and relax. The bed shifts when he stands, and you hear his bare feet pad to your left into the bathroom. Running the faucet and wringing something out, he comes back and glides the cool, wet towel over your warm thighs and gives you doting aftercare. You hum appreciatively and curl up to kiss his lips when he dips down and presses a cheeky peck to the top of your breast. His fingertips gently brush your right side, inspecting your smooth skin and pleased to see the bruise mostly gone now. Sighing, you smile when he plants a kiss on your stomach and caresses your mended knees before strutting out of the room, giving you a lovely view of his ass as he goes.

Once he comes back from the kitchen with a drink for you both, you're lounging at the foot of the bed with the sheet wrapped lightly around you. Javi pauses and catalogues the sight – your tousled hair draping over a shoulder, your kiss-bruised lips pulling into a loving smile, and your eyes gleaming warmly at him while you lounge like a tigress on your side.

Your eyes flicker appraisingly over his handsome, broad and nude form, smug and proud that this man is your lover, even though about an hour ago you wanted to wring his neck. When he sits at the edge of the bed and offers you the drink, you slink up and take it before leaning over and kissing his shoulder. Adjusting to glide you closer to him, Javi brushes worshipful kisses over your countenance.

"Tan hermosa…no te merezco," he murmurs before pressing his lips to yours, cupping your jaw and caressing his thumb along your chin when he pulls back and gazes at you with his scintillatingly brewed depths.

You smile sheepishly. "How you can say that after how terribly I behaved…" you mumble and take a long sip of your drink, then ruefully shake your head.

Scoffing a snicker, Javi drinks his whiskey and shifts backwards to stretch out, leaning back into the headboard so he can set his glass aside and reach for the pack of cigarettes and lighter on his nightstand. "…Don't get mad, but it's so fucking sexy when you get angry like that," he mutters amusedly and lights a cigarette while you self-consciously run a hand through your mussed hair and exhale wryly. "I had a hard-on the moment you started yelling—"

"Beyako pervertido," you scathe playfully at that and nudge your foot against the side of his calf. "You really go out of your way to get me livid—"

"I honestly don't, I swear," he cuts in and reaches for your ankle so he can bracelet his fingers around it and give a tender squeeze. "I'm sorry, querida. I…I should've called you."

Sobering, you sit up and pull the sheet around yourself more as you balance your glass to be set on your thigh, swirling the ice and rum-coke around before glancing back up at him. "Why didn't you?" you query softly, brows furrowing despite wanting to keep the hurt hidden from him.

Javi takes a long drag from his cigarette and diverts his stare, unable to hold your gaze as he exhales the smoke and chews worriedly on the inside of his cheek. "I needed…I needed to figure stuff out. Everything went to fucking hell after the siege at La Catedral. Murphy went off and sort of lost it—"

"I know," you muse and sit up to cross your legs and stare reassuringly at him. "Why couldn't you talk to me about it though—?"

"I just…" Javi starts, but ends up grunting in frustration, stubbing his cigarette out so he can wring his hands over his tense features before huffing. "I do not want to get you caught up in this mess. Everything is fucked right now. We got a new boss, and she's itching to ship Steve the fuck out of country, and we're on a tight leash now when we finally got the Colombian government to let us partner with them in the manhunt. It's going to be a shitshow," he grouses and fists a hand through his hair broodingly before holding your gaze with a sharp frown. "I warned you though. I told you I could go MIA—"

Riling at that, you cut in, "MIA while you're 8-hours away in Medellín on assignment – not when you're in the same building as me for a week and avoid me."

You got him there, so he finds himself scrambling for a retort. While he does, you hazard a glance around the room, now that you're not blind with rage or lust, and notice for the first time the box in the corner with some of his belongings stored in it, a pile of clothes on a chair in the corner, and a big duffle bag by the dresser that looks like it was in the process of being packed.

"What's all that?" you ask and gesture with a point of your chin.

Javier glances over and tenses, but tries to play it off like a shrug. "Well, effective immediately, DEA, CIA, Mil Group, and Centra Spike are bunking up at Carlos Holguín with CNP and Search Bloc. If Steve doesn't get rotated out, we're reporting there indefinitely in a couple of days…" he explains guardedly, and drains what's left of his whiskey before setting the empty glass aside.

Absorbing that, you start to wind up with simmering outrage.

"So…let me get this straight. You were going to pack up and leave indefinitely, and you didn't plan to even call and tell me?"

Staring at you edgily, Javi squares his shoulders and sits up more when he sees your eyes start to blaze. "Cariño—" he begins and reaches for you, but you jerk away and glide to the opposite side of the bed, where you plop your drink down and turn away from him. "I just found out about it today—"

"And if I hadn't come over here, would you have even called me?!" you whirl on him, now truly offended when you see his eyes widen and his features etch tensely. "You weren't…you were just gonna go and blow me off—"

"That's not true," he snaps and leans over to grab you, but you're already tossing the sheet away and storming off the bed to snatch up your discarded clothes.

"Oh yeah? It isn't?" you scathe as you gruffly pull on your undergarments and stalk to grab your jeans and shirt. Then, you exhale harshly and toss the rest of your clothes onto the bed before slashing, "You're fucking lying to me. Like I'm a pendeja who doesn't know you!"

Javi bounds up off the bed and grabs you then, holding you firm by your upper arms and pinning you in place as he growls, "You know me so fucking well? Then you should know that I meant it when I said I'd protect you and keep you away from this shit, and that's what I'm trying to do!"

Your brows rise in startled recall, remembering the terse conversation from weeks ago, and instead of the rational, reasonable understanding he was hoping for, your eyes flare and expression carves into wrathful anger as you shove him back and seethe, "I told you not to shut me out!" Lividly, you turn away from him and keep getting dressed, feeling your fury boiling over. "You have no fucking respect for me—!"

Snatching a pair of jeans from a pile in the corner, Javi yanks them up and on, trying to calm down and figure out how to salvage this. You, on the other hand, are fuming as you tug the shirt over your head and stalk to scoop up your discarded purse from the floor while you collect your shoes and toe them on so you can storm off, but Javi thwarts you and hauls you back, exasperation winning out in him as he finally barks in reply, "Yes I fucking do! Goddammit, I love you—"

Wringing out of his hold and slapping his hands away brusquely, you rail, "And that gives you the right to lie to me and make decisions that affect me, but don't fucking include me?! To keep shit from me out of some warped sense of safeguarding me like I'm some damsel in distress needing your protection?!"

Glaring disdainfully at you, Javier grits tersely, "Yes, because you are! Or did you already forget how less than two weeks ago some drunken bastard could've killed you—?!"

You balk at him, fuming, "You think I've gone without catching a beating or two? Because I've caught plenty, you chauvinistic asshole, so spare me your chivalrous bullshit and just admit the truth: You want to shut me out because it takes the pressure off of you."

He's stewing with impotent rage at that. "Nothing I say is gonna change your fucking mind, so sure, go with that, querida," he sneers and puts his hands on his hips, bare shoulders squaring angrily as he grinds out, "Better yet, just do us both a favor and go ahead – curse me out like you always do and get on with it."

That takes you aback, and you grip your purse as you straighten your spine and glare up at him. "Did you…did you just try and put this all on me?" you murmur fiercely, eyes narrowing while you jab him in the chest with your fore and middle fingers as you snipe, "If you want to break it off, be a man and do it your fucking self."

His expression flashes with fury. You've never seen Javi so angry, and the fact it's directed at you has a cold chill winding in your gut as he holds your fearsome stare with his furious, smoldering eyes and hard scowl, but doesn't say anything. He doesn't want to take the bait, and instead turns from you and paces away to rein in his livid rage.

Unable to help yourself, though, you scoff disparagingly and chide, "I'm so glad I dropped off your shit. Now you'll have plenty of things to take with you—"

He slams his hand into his dresser tempestuously at that before whirling on you and stalking back to loom over you. "Be mad all you want. I'm not giving you what you want, and if you wanna take this as fucked up as you're twisting it, fine, I can't stop you—"

"Dame la llave."

Javi's harangue dies on his lips at your cold directive. He stares down at you, and you raise a defiant brow at him as you hold out your palm demandingly, eyes burning with exacting authority.

His resolve coils up in him, but under your irascible glare, he feels defeated, so he storms into the living room, with you in tow, and snatches his keys up from the coffee table. With the snap of the key ring and the flick of his wrist, he plucks your apartment key off and hands it to you, and without a second look, you imperiously amble across his apartment to leave.

You're halfway up the step passing his kitchen when he mutters lowly, "Is that it?"

Hesitating, your conviction wavers.

Turning to stare at him guardedly over your shoulder while the hurt starts to well up in your chest, you feel your heart churn at the sight of how upset he looks and how hard he's trying to keep it guarded behind his brooding expression.

"You tell me, Javi."

He only stares at you, big brown eyes flaring with something, but his jaw sets and his shoulders straighten, and he says nothing. When you feel that last spark of hope fizzle out in your spirit, and you're close to crumbling under the weight of your despair, you turn and rush to the door, yank it open, and storm out, slamming it for good measure behind yourself.

Standing there all alone, Javi stares at the door and boils over with self-loathing resentment, lividly taking the keys in his hand and throwing them forcefully against the wall adjacent to the kitchen and clattering them violently across the tile to ricochet into the cabinets.

He wants to chase after you, but the furious voices tell him it's for the best – that he should've stayed away, and at least if you hate him and don't want to see him anymore, there's no reason you should get swept up in the moral degradation of his life.

You are in a furious daze as you stride to your car, starting to shake as you slide into the driver's seat. It isn't until you've driven away and are halfway to your side of town and you stop at a traffic light that you start to sob. Twilight has come and gone, and the city lights flare in your watery vision as you drive home, finally letting your iron guard down to the devastation and heartache.

When you pull up to your street and park, you stay in the car and cry, overwhelmed by the whirlwind of your feelings battering your heart, and it takes you a while to regain your composure. You keep seeing Javi's upset expression, and it's like a dagger in your chest to know you hurt him – that you pushed him away. But then the resentful part of you argues that he pushed you away long before you stormed to his door, and then you realize something.

All your lovers? You'd discarded them before they could do it to you – before you could allow yourself to feel anything vulnerable, or tether your heart to them. It was your defense mechanism, and it guarded you from this – this shattering feeling you're trying to keep from disintegrating everything within you.

Wiping at your tear-streaked face, you look down at the key and pry it from where you pinned it between your thighs so it wouldn't fall while you drove. The warm metal is now the symbol of your folly, and the feeling in your chest falls apart completely now, leaving you numb and hollow.

Vacantly, you grab your purse and exit your car to wander across the sidewalk towards the entryway of your complex, eyes cast down as you attempt to hide your distraught features to any possible passersby.

It was only a matter of time before you ended up alone again. It's for the best…

Wounded, you go on autopilot, registering traversing the courtyard and stairs, and when you're in your bedroom, you drop your things and crawl into bed until you lie down into your pillow and bury your tears into it before exhaustion takes you down and puts you to sleep.

Your aching heart squeezes when the last thing you picture is Javi and his sad brown eyes, and despite the pain, you curl into yourself tightly and get lost to your unconscious sorrow.

---

Spanish-English Glossary:

Eres mi gloria = You are my glory

Atrevido/Atrevida = Daring man/Daring woman

Malcriada/malcriado = brat/spoiled

Chavón = a man that's pestering you

Querida/querido = Affectionate term, akin to expressing one's want and desire

Mi amor = My love

Hermosa = beautiful

Que cosa, siendo supersticioso, chulito = Such a thing, being superstitious, cutie

Abuela = Grandmother

Señorita = Little lady; little miss; missy

Balcón = balcony

Galán = Handsome man

Pinche tentadora = Fucking temptress

Bravita = Tough girl; feisty girl

Canela = Cinnamon

¿Ah, sí? = Oh yeah?

Mueca = Making a face; grimace

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

Bueno, parce = Well, buddy/friend

Puto malparido = Fucking bastard/son of a bitch

Y jódete = And fuck yourself

Cabrón = Asshole

Maldito puñetero = Damned jerk-off

Más macho = More manly; akin to saying "the most manly man"

Déjame hacerlo = Let me do it

Preciosa = Gorgeous; precious

Descarado = Scoundrel; cad; bastard

Chulo/Chulito = cute guy; little cutie

Tan hermosa…no te merezco = So beautiful…I don't deserve you

Beyako pervertido = Horny pervert

Cariño = darling/sweetheart

Pendeja = dumbass (female)

Dame la llave = Give me the key

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