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?

15. Chapter 15: Déjà vu

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of sex, including explicit depictions of protected and unprotected sex. Mentions of intercourse with different sexual partners, past violence, allusions to past trauma, psychological grief, and emotional turmoil. Remorseful!Javi, Jealous!Javi, and Possessive!Javi.

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Chapter 15: Déjà vu

The mist obscures the path, billowing like an opaque series of clouds that distort the light and dark around you as you traverse through it.

It clings to your skin, cloying and foreboding, heavy and roiling. But you've been here before. Countless times before, and you're aware of the anxiety that's waiting for you as you turn down the now expanding road. It's desolate and dark, and the mist clings to the grass and claws up the trees.

I don't want to be here.

Your bare feet are cold over the wet asphalt, raw and numb the closer you get to the bend in the road. You feel the chirping of the crickets, the call of the tree frogs, and the closer you get to the bend, the quieter they get.

You see the upturned taillights of the car down the steep embankment just beyond the bend in the road.

I know this. Seen this. Why do I have to be here?

Your heart is pounding as you call out to your mother and crawl down the embankment, but when you approach the driver's side of the blue Cadillac with the cream soft top, you see the door is ajar, and the arm dangling out is a man's. The silver watch on the arm's wrist glints like the moon at you, and you feel terror seize you anew – boisterous as you stumble towards the car over the dewy grass.

Just as you reach the driver's side and yank the askew door open, you start up in bed and exclaim in fear, bolting to sit and stare wildly about at the darkness of your bedroom. Breathing hard and trembling from the cold sweat that clings to your body, you struggle to regain your composure and calm to the familiar sounds coming from the night outside.

No tropical sounds. No coquí.

Burying your heated face in your clammy hands, you exhale and press into your eyes to stop the tears from spilling over.

The nightmare is always the same, but never fails to upset you when you wake. However, it was new too, needling you sadistically with the new victim behind the wheel of the Cadillac in the ditch.

It's been almost a month since you and Javi broke things off. You haven't heard from him or seen him since you stormed out of his apartment, and after the latest turmoil that's been unleashed in Medellín, you aren't surprised, but you can't lie to yourself.

You miss him.

It hurts when you think about him, so lately? You're always in pain.

Sitting at your desk now and staring unseeingly at the laptop screen before you, you let your thoughts drift. You swallow your pain down, and bury it deep in times like these – when you're at work, having plenty to do and not enough time to do it, most days. And when you're not at work?

"—Going to drop these off at billing, then we can head out to the bar," Ellis is telling you, and you snap yourself out of the faraway daze to turn and nod.

When you're not at work, you are out at the bar with Ellis or on your lonesome in the apartment, with only the occasional visit from the stray cat as your company for the evenings. You find yourself open to doing anything to chase away the loneliness, and if you can get exhausted enough to not dream that stultifying nightmare? Then you'll entertain it.

Since the regime changes came down, the posse at happy hour had dwindled to only Luke Samson, Ellis Rose, and occasionally Col. Lou Wysession, thanks to the rest of Mil Group being stationed in Medellín alongside the DEA guys, CIA's assets and Centra Spike boys. The colonel and his right hand man remained in the capital to manage bigger picture matters in-country, and with Crosby declaring only essential personnel worthy of the pilot, you and Luke were working closely together. After all, Lou wasn't gonna learn computers, and Luke was his point guy for everything, so he designated him to be the resource in Mil Group to be 'essential personnel.' You can't complain, seeing as he has aptitude for it, and you do enjoy teaching him the ropes.

"So how're Nador and Benson?" you ask Luke when Ellis goes up to the bar to get the next round of drinks.

"Miserable," he snorts and leans back in the booth seat. He looks charming in his business casual dark blue polo and slacks, hair brushed back with a few wisps brushing his forehead. You're tempted to teasingly brush them back for him but it sends a charged déjà vu through you, and you bury the impulse. "Seems they're bunking together in the barracks of the police academy there. They say it's like a college dorm, but worse, because it's 99% dudes and they have to share communal bathrooms with cadets and other agencies stationed there alike."

You try not to take pleasure in the fact that women are hard to come by on the base, but you do. "And Ed? I miss chatting with him," you muse and smile when Luke purses his lips comically. "What? He's super smart and he's a lit nerd. We'd argue about Don Quixote all the time—"

"Don't remind me. You lot, well, you're much too savvy and learned for me. I got straight C's in school," Luke chuckles, remarking, "Benson said he's the go-to dude for DEA right now. They're constantly bugging him to run aerial ops and coordinate with their in-field sweeps."

You can't help think of Javi, and wonder if he's ok, and more than upset you, it makes you mad. After all, you'd done everything to instigate him into taking a stand, and what did he do? Put it all on you, and then let you walk away.

Pushing that brooding angst away, you smile when Ellis comes back and chirps, "I forgot to mention! Tomorrow night is movie night at my place. Got a new shipment of primo flicks from my brother, so you both gotta come over."

"Why do you always assume Luke doesn't have a life, unlike us?" you tease and sip your drink while Ellis stretches back and frowns. "I'm always down for movie night."

"So am I," Luke states charmingly and clinks his glass with yours. "Without the fellas around to be bad influences, I've been pretty bored; keeping to myself mostly. So, if you ever need an antisocial buddy? I'm your man," the hazel-eyed man jokes, and when you scoff and elbow Ellis in a 'get a load of this guy' gesture and drain your glass, Luke winks at you. "Next one is on me, Miss Cuba Libre."

While you're drinking at the bar, Javi is staring out the studio's window, thoughts faraway while he tries not to think about you right now.

Not when Gabby is lounging topless in her bed, gazing over at him. Inevitably, though, he thinks about you, and feels so loathsome and guilty that when she calls out to him, it takes him a second to absorb and acknowledge what she said.

A tall, svelte, beautiful auburn-haired fox, Gabby was the total opposite of you. She wasn't fiery, but she was a respite to the furious tumult of his life since getting stationed at the base. After Messina eliminated their crash house, Javi and Steve had been relegated to being almost 24/7 at the police-academy-turned-base, but unlike his partner, Javi would sneak off to seek out the fleeting moments of release he could. Of course, for him, that meant frills-free sex. It was his ultimate stress relief, and thankfully, Gabriela always made time for him whenever he sought her out. Since getting locked down in Medellín, that happened pretty routinely – enough that he'd look forward to getting the hell off the base and away from Steve and his sulking.

After all, Gabriela was a talented, sophisticated working girl who'd carved out her own way and decided who her clients were, when they could have her, and how. No longer stuck in the sleazy brothel he'd first met her at a long time ago, Gabriela now had her own place, albeit modest and cozy, where she could work out of on her own schedule. No competition or catty brawls to worry about, and the arrangement worked well for him. And while she was amazing in bed, affectionate and kind to him, he couldn't stop comparing her to you.

Because she wasn't you.

She didn't challenge him like you did, didn't give him the thrill and exhilaration you did, or make him burn with passion, but she was sexy and would always give him the time of day. Hell, most times, she even objected to him leaving money on her dresser or nightstand, insisting she slept with him because she wanted to.

Standing at the window now, having literally jumped into his jeans while a sheen of sweat still clung to his back, he'd hoped the cigarette and distance would help quiet his thoughts. Having her murmur to him only made the morose self-doubt simmer more in his gut, though, so he let her goad him into the halting conversation. But alas, even that only left him feeling more lonesome, so, once he finished getting dressed and collected his things, he kissed her on the lips and murmured, "I'll let myself out. Thanks again, dulzura," and headed out.

Driving back to base, Javi couldn't shake off his moroseness, feeling pensive still. Ruminating about the horrors he'd stood by and watched go down in a desolate underpass, he struggled to keep his guilt and complicity at bay from eroding his resolve. After all, he was all in – had been for a while, and was willing to do almost anything to bring down the cartel. Just when he's convinced himself of his resoluteness, your voice plucks at his recollections.

"—put a bullet in Escobar's head tomorrow? There's just another scumbag that'll fill the vacuum the next day. Is it really worth going off the deep end for?"

Scowling, Javier grips the steering wheel a little tighter, eyes flashing angrily as he navigates down to the police academy.

He'd let you in, and with ease, you'd nestled into his heart, but now, your power over him left him brooding and furious with himself for allowing things to get as unsustainable as they'd become. You didn't deserve it, and had kept him at bay for so long before he'd worn your guard down, only to end up having to push you away. He hated himself for it, and the more he thought about it, the deeper his self-loathing would wrap around him like chainmail, wearing him down and keeping him rueful, albeit furious.

Steve had asked about you, and Javier had set his jaw and shook his head, making it very clear he did not want to talk about it. Not being in a position to judge, Steve had dropped it, especially after having just spent part of the drive to base telling Javier that he wasn't sure if he'd end up losing it again.

When Javier enters their room at the barracks, he finds Steve slumped in the pleather chair facing the television, already half in the bag and chain smoking, at least that's what it looks like from the collection of beer bottles and the overflowing ashtray on the foldout table next to him.

"Messina's gonna have your ass if she finds out you've been absconding to get your dick wet," Steve crassly rumbles without turning to acknowledge him.

Shaking his head at that, Javi removes his gun from the back of his waistband and sets it on the desk he uses before snapping his badge and handcuffs off his leather belt. "How she gonna know unless you tell her," he grumbles as he checks the time on his silver wristwatch before unfastening it and placing it on the desk as well. Dismissively, he lopes over to their mini fridge and gets himself a beer. Seeing Steve mercifully left one for him, he uncaps it and goes to sit at the foldout table by the windows.

Huffing, Steve turns in the chair and shoots him a mocking stare. "I figured you'd know better, is all."

Stretching his long legs out and crossing them at his ankles, Javi shoots his partner a surly look. "Spare me your concern. I'm a big boy and can handle it," he drawls tersely and takes a long swig of his beer.

Snorting, Steve knows he's pushing his luck with his reticent partner, especially after what happened earlier tonight with Carrillo, but he figures they both need the distraction.

"She let you slide with that Elisa thing, but I highly doubt she'll abide you sleeping with whores—"

Javi plops his half-empty beer bottle on the table and glares warningly at Steve. "This place is a fucking pigsty. Do me a favor and clean up after yourself," Javier grouses as he stands and pointedly ignores acknowledging his partner's drunken stare as he angrily grabs his toiletry caddy and a towel before stalking out of the room.

"Well, that went well," Steve deadpans to himself, stubs his cigarette into the full ashtray, and goes back to slumping into the chair.

The next morning, when Steve's sobered up and blearily staring across the desk at Javi, he can't help huff and nurse his coffee.

"What?" Javier snaps crisply as he keeps his gaze down at the field report he's reading.

Leaning over his desk, Steve confides, "Look, I'm sorry…I was just bustin' balls last night."

Sparing him an intense glance, Javi curls his lip dismissively. "Who said I was mad?"

Exhaling at that, Steve reclines back in his chair, eyeing his partner sharply. "You've been simmering with it for weeks, man. I'm just trying to return the favor and be your sounding board here," the eagle-eyed blond muses, shrugging and fiddling with his rumpled collar as he adds, "I mean, if you want to vent, at the very least. Don't need to end up bailing you out of jail."

Scoffing wearily, Javier holds his gaze before setting his file aside and standing. "I'm going for a smoke outside. If you want to tag along…I wouldn't be opposed to it," he rumbles and silently communicates, 'fine, just not here,' with the set of his jaw and the tilt of his head.

Nodding, Steve follows him, and once they're out by the cement bleachers that overlook the old academy's training grounds, they sit and smoke in silence for a short while, until Javi gets the gumption to exhale and lean his elbows back against the bleacher seat behind him and glance over at his partner.

"She broke it off."

Holding his brooding stare with his dubious one, Steve frowns and glances away with a disparaging snicker. "We really suck at this, don't we," he chuckles self-deprecatingly. "Or maybe we're just good at running women off…"

Javi watches him from the corner of his eye as he puffs his exhale. "You didn't run Connie off. She just…she just needed a break," he assures and flicks his cigarette of its ash. "But, I am an expert at running women off."

Steve snorts and shakes his head derisively. "What the fuck happened?" he asks and looks over at Javi.

"I fucked up," Javier states simply and glances down at his boots as he toys his thumb over his bottom lip and idly traces the butt of his cigarette. "I gave her no options…"

Not knowing what to say to that, Steve goes silent and stares off unfocusedly at the training field. He remembers how Javi had looked like a furious bull the night after he'd beating the shit out of Danvers, shoulders broadly set and eyes etched with anger as he'd recounted what had happened. His bandaged-up knuckles were the only evidence he'd even been in a fight, so the idea that he'd just let you break things off after he'd almost killed a man to protect you didn't sound legit at all. But, he knew better than to press him with questions.

A pregnant pause reins between them while they finish their cigarettes, and Javi is left with his own thoughts, until Steve randomly volunteers, "I really like her. Was hoping we could've hassled you to bring her to dinner. I think Connie would've gotten a kick out of her."

Lips twitching from his deep scowl, Javi snickers and flicks his cigarette down to be stubbed out with the tip of his boot. "You just wanted to try her delicious lasagna—"

"Hell yeah, I did! Greedy bastard, now I won't ever get the chance," Steve acerbically jabs and lightly punches Javi's shoulder.

Javi laughs, the first laugh in a while. "I'm sure if you asked her the next time you're at the embassy, she might take pity on you and make you one," he mutters dryly and crosses his arms, smirking when Steve sputters a goofy sound at that. Staring off pensively, he sighs, "She's great like that…"

Steve catalogues that, and wonders if Javi is just resolute about keeping you at arm's length for some reason, but decides not to question him.

They spend the rest of the week chasing leads, until an amazing C.I. lands in Javi's lap. Getting the call from Don Berna was surreal, and meeting the man at a shabby little cafeteria that sells coffee round the clock wasn't any less bizarre, but when the narco tells him his proposition, and volunteers the Moncada lab, he is more than happy to go for it. The success is just what they needed, and although he warns his partner about going off with Carrillo, he doesn't fight it when the blond saunters off confidently.

It isn't until his psychologically rattled partner sits across from him at the desk at the end of the day and pours himself a drink dejectedly that Javi feels real guilt about not having protected him. But Steve's a big boy, and no matter how fucked up the things they witness and participate in are, they all lead to a common cause that's much bigger than the nightmares they'll have to contend with. However, seeing him look so distraught has him anxious and edgy, so before he's checked the impulse, Javier departs from the base and heads straight for Gabriela's.

While he drives, that intrepid voice muses, Maybe you can call her?

Annoyed with himself, he presses his lips together until they flatten out, grunting in exasperation with his needy thoughts.

When she answers the door, he doesn't even give Gabriela a cursory greeting before sweeping over the threshold and taking her to bed. He's rapacious and seething with self-loathing, desperate to snuff out the feelings and get lost in base pleasure. Gabby acquiesces without questioning, and even when he is rough, she doesn't hesitate to let him take his need out. So even when his pounding thrusts are brutal and his hands clutch at her brutishly, she hangs on and whimpers. After Javier barrels his orgasm into her and rocks her up against him possessively, he relishes the feeling of her relying on him for support. His descent from the brash high of dominating her with abandon lingers over his senses, and he is glad for the respite as they collapse on the bed together.

Once he's come down from the thrill, he feels satisfied, but his ruminating thoughts flare up as he lays in post-coital repose on her bed with her and Gabriela goes to drape over his chest to nuzzle the spot under his jaw.

The déjà vu of it scalds him, and he shies away from her embrace to sit on the side of her bed and regain his flippant demeanor.

"Te puedes quedar," she murmurs sweetly and caresses his shoulders.

Javi shakes his head, too ashamed to look at her now that he keeps picturing you, lying in his bed like a ravished goddess.

He makes an excuse as he gets dressed, and when she frowns while he rifles through his folded bills, Javi keeps his gaze diverted and leaves her a little extra on her dresser before he grabs his jacket and rushes out of her apartment.

You, meanwhile, are enjoying the latest movie night at Ellis and Anita's, sitting next to Luke on the comfy but snug loveseat. It's a suspense thriller, and you're on pins and needles, enthralled by the story while you all sit in the dark and watch the tense action. When a jump scare occurs, you're so immersed that you actually jolt in your seat and practically end up in Luke's lap.

"Jeez, sorry!" you yelp and fidget away, but he snickers and gives you a dashing smile and stretches his arm over the back of the sofa.

"De Niro is a beast in this!" Ellis calls out while Anita hides her face in his shoulder at the violent scene that's playing out.

Adjusting in your seat, you glance wryly at Luke and become pinned in place when you realize he's been staring at you. His hazel eyes lower to your lips before flicking back up to your startled expression, and you feel heat rise to the back your neck and radiate across your cheeks as his smile widens with his charming murmur of, "Never figured you for the jumpy type."

Using your wry scoff to hide your sheepishness, you platonically shove him and whisper, "He's strangling people! Even I'm not coldblooded enough not to startle at that."

Luke bounces his expressive eyebrows at you and surprises you when his fingertips brush the side of your arm. "Don't feel coldblooded to me," he muses in your ear, and a little intrigued skitter shoots down your spine at that. "But yeah, I suppose mayhem ain't common for a sweet little firecracker like you," he flirts in a gravelly whisper – the scent of beer on his breath wafting over, and you can't help feel a bit of delight spark in your core.

"I daresay, you might've imbibed too much tonight, soldier," you playfully elbow him to stop saying sweet nothings to you and lean back to shoot him a defiant glance.

Taking it in stride, he smirks and shrugs as he takes a drink of his beer.

By the time the credits are rolling, you are more amenable to his flirty stare and goading smirks, so when you're all chatting about the weekend, and Anita gripes that it's been ages since she and Ellis went out on a date, you're not recoiling or shying away when Luke leans over you and exclaims, "Oh, you guys ever been to karaoke? One opened up around the corner from my place. We should go!"

"Really? Karaoke?" you pipe and smile. "Those places are fun. I went a few times when I was in Japan one summer—"

"Oh yeah? I know about 'em from a rotation I did in South Korea," Luke chimes affably.

You smile and glance over at Ellis, who's giving you his smug little look, so you narrow your eyes at him and drawl, "Well? You two wanna try it out?"

"It sounds interesting, so I'm game to go," Anita remarks and squeezes Ellis' shoulder. "Maybe tomorrow? Oh, we can do dinner before!"

Hesitating a bit, you glance around and see your friends eagerly waiting for you to agree, and Luke's charismatic, easygoing smile wears you down. "Sure, sounds like a plan."

'Plan,' because it's not a date, at least that's what you tell yourself when you meet up with everyone the following evening.

You're a foursome, and while you are reluctant to entertain anything but platonic energy with Luke, you can't help recognize how pleasant it is to be out with someone again, especially with your closest friends. It's an easy dynamic, and you enjoy yourself a lot, especially when at karaoke where you laugh hysterically at Ellis butchering a Michael Jackson song while you lean into Luke's shoulder and try to stifle your giggles.

By the end of the night, you're feeling the most carefree you have in a while, but the moment you close your eyes in your comfortable bed, your mind betrays you and flashes to Javi.

Mortified by his behavior, Javi stays away for a while, and doesn't really intend to seek Gabby out again after how rude and rough he was. But, after a couple of weeks, she calls and flirts him up, and he is only too eager to blow off some steam, so he disregards Steve's musing about Messina ordering them not to go off-base, and heads over.

His boner hasn't taken a figurative hit that quick ever in his life, but when he ends up grilling Maritza, Gabby's 'friend of a friend' who can tell him where to catch Escobar? He's suddenly buzzing with hope. It's infectious, because everyone else relies on him to vouch for how solid the lead is, and he's so confident that he has no problem doubling down on it.

Messina sidelining him and Steve last minute feels like a betrayal, and is deeply infuriating, but he's so sure of the operation, that he and Steve enjoy shooting the shit with Trujillo over the CB radio while they keep vigil back at the base.

It's a secret operation. So secret, in fact, that no one in Bogotá but Crosby knows about it. Ignorant to what's transpiring, Luke finally succeeds in convincing you to go to an early dinner after work, promising he just wants to use it as a chance to talk about work away from work. You snicker and assent, and once you're at the quaint restaurant, you're unwinding, letting your guard down in hopes of shedding the pining sadness of still carrying a torch for Javi.

"So, would it be out of bounds for me to suggest a special tutoring session?" Luke asks as he's paying the bill, grinning at your ornery pout at being thwarted in splitting the check. "I'm just having a hard time with the secure network encryption stuff."

"Sure. When do you want to work on that?" you ask and brush your hair behind your ear.

"Well…my place is nearby. It's still early. I could give you a ride back to your apartment after," Luke proposes, tone easygoing, but his expression is hopeful. When he sees you hesitate, he amends, "If it's not a good time—"

"Actually, it's fine," you find yourself musing, smiling reassuringly as you add, "Just don't expect me to hand you all the answers."

Luke drives you to his place, and it is one of the newer apartment buildings in the area, just a few stories short of being a high-rise, but it has an elevator up to his apartment and a really great view of the nearby park. His furniture is warm and cozy, and when you sit on his plush couch, side by side with your laptops, you can't help stare about and whistle.

"Yeah, I know. It's one of the newer apartment blocks. The fellas give me shit all the time about being in such a swank building," he chuckles and opens up the binder you assembled for training purposes.

"So the rumors are true. You're from highfalutin origins?" you can't help rib, smirking when he sits back and eyes you with feigned airs. "Ellis is a talker, as you know."

"Hah, well I suppose there's some truth to it. My father is a former deputy ambassador of Argentina, now turned lobbyist, and my mother's side of the family come from a cattle rancher dynasty, or so she likes to call it," he snickers and charmingly runs his fingers through his hair meekly.

"Good stock, as they say," you tease as you type your credentials into your laptop and get prepped to help him walk through the steps on his.

Enticed, Luke watches you, so smitten and attracted by your lovely grace and confident moxie. "Want a drink? I think I have some rum I can scrounge up, Miss Cuba Libre," he flirts, and when you glance up, he smiles, and you catch him flicking his gaze over you when you haughtily straighten your shoulders and purse your plush lips at him.

"Learning encryption codes over liquor is not something I should encourage, as your tutor," you jibe, but when he sarcastically hums at that, you roll your eyes and relent coolly, "Alright. But just one drink."

While you stay on the one drink, you and Luke spend most of the time talking, and when you scoff at yourself and insist on getting to the tutorial, he jokes, "This is why I sucked at school. No attention span."

"You made it this far though, so you must've sharpened up at some point," you needle and adjust to fold your legs under yourself after you slip your leather flats off.

"Ah, I enlisted, and whenever I wasn't getting run ragged, I studied. Then I went to college on an accelerated program. Even took some courses at the University of the Americas for a semester—"

"Huh, meet any of the murderous dictator alums?" you quip acerbically, and set your laptop onto the coffee table to better balance the binder in your lap so you can skim to a specific section for him.

"Nope, but who knows if any of my classmates will end up becoming autocrats," he drawls and winks at you, so you blow a raspberry and nudge him with the binder. "So…would it piss you off if I told you how bad I've wanted to go out with you?"

Disarmed, you shift in your seat and give him an ambivalent look. "I know I was a bitch to you that one time, but no…it wouldn't," you murmur tensely and feel a bit cagey now, dueling with your impulses. Part of you wants to jump up, grab your things, and go, while another part of you is preening – eager to enjoy this attention and see where it could go.

Eyes lowering to your lips, Luke sets his laptop aside and inches closer. "You weren't a bitch. I was out of line," he remarks in a tenor drawl, and now, close enough to rest his hand on the arm you've got folded over the back of the couch? Close enough to take in your perfume, and for you to appreciate his crisp, woody cologne? You find yourself teetering over a precipice you weren't aware of before. His eyes flicker with want as he husks, "Just like I'm crossing the line now."

Enticed stare fixing onto his warm hazel gaze, you query softly, "What do you mean?"

"I mean, that all I want to do right now, is kiss you," Luke mutters in a molasses rich purr that tingles into your core. "I've wanted to kiss you for so long, but I know I shouldn't," he grumbles and caresses his hand from your arm to the side of your face, where he brushes your hair behind your ear for you.

Tantalized, you find yourself leaning closer. "I'm sorry," you exhale tensely, and when you instinctually wet your lips, you whisper, "This isn't something we should do—"

He noisily exhales at that. "I know, I totally understand. I just…fuck," Luke surges forward and just kisses you, boyish lips molding to yours.

The contact is charged, and you feel that tingle radiate through you, so when he leans back, you shift forward and capture his lips, surprising him, and the next thing you know, you're both making out heatedly on his sofa. The binder is discarded to the floor as you both tangle into each other. Luke's hands pull you close, and you let him encircle his arms around you as you deepen the kiss and get lost in the sexual tension you're finally allowing to play out.

But Luke isn't Javi.

His kisses are warm and hungry, but they don't burn with the passion that Javi kisses you with, and while he's almost as tall as Javi and his muscular frame feels harder and more defined that Javi's, you aren't melting down like you do when Javi grabs you and worships you with his possessive touch and delectable mouth. But when Luke grabs your derrière and growls, "Oh hell, I've wanted to grab this gorgeous ass since I first saw you," your carnal arousal is lit up, and before you register what you're doing, you're pushing Luke back onto his couch and pivoting to straddle him in your tight pencil skirt.

That snaps something in the field operations analyst, and when he pivots you to be pressed into the couch cushions, you arch from his mouth caressing hungrily down your neck while his hands slip up your tight skirt. His erection is grinding into your inner thigh, turning you on as he tries to hook his fingers around the waistband of your panties while the skirt thwarts him. Groping your hands over his back, you feel his muscles shift and flex while you pant and sigh from this feverish attraction.

"Shit, is-is this ok?" he asks you against your cleavage after he started unbuttoning your blouse and pauses to kiss the exposed top swells of your breasts, realizing how aggressively he'd need to hike up your skirt to get your panties off.

You nod, not trusting your voice, and reach between your bodies for his belt and start to unfasten it. Luke groans and stiffens when you unbutton his pressed slacks and start to unzip his fly, but before you can slip your hand in and feel his hard-on, something in his apartment starts ringing.

Luke hoarsely scoffs and swears. "Fuck…it's my work line. I have to get it," he rumbles in frustration and eases back, allowing you to regain your senses and sit up when he bounds off the couch, fastens his pants back up, and stalks to the side counter at his kitchen. "Samson," he answers the black satellite phone, training his voice not to be as rough as it just was. He turns and listens, but the way his shoulders broaden out, you know he's getting very bad news.

Glancing over at the clock, you realize you've been here for a while, and the sun has long set outside of his large living room window, so you start to right your appearance and slip your shoes on in anticipation of having to bail on whatever the hell was about to happen between you two.

"Christ…all right. I'll let him know," Luke curtly mutters before glancing at you over his shoulder.

You see how serious he's become, and know it means something really bad has happened. Once he's hung up the phone and exhaled noisily, rubbing his jaw tensely as he lopes back to you, all the sexual chemistry fizzles out of you from how sober you become, so you snap up to collect your things. "If you need me to go, I can take a cab—" you begin to suggest as you pick up the binder from the floor.

"No, I can take you home," he insists and looks frustrated.

"Is something wrong?" you ask as you reach for your purse.

"Yeah…I guess it's gonna be all over the news anyway," Luke grumbles and goes to grab his jacket from the ottoman. Shrugging it on and looking for his car keys, he mutters in a tenor grouse, "That was Benson. A Search Bloc op went down tonight. DEA had intel from a source about Escobar. They were on their way to capture him, but it ended up being an ambush. Colonel Carrillo and a dozen of his men were killed."

You were in the process of standing when he tells you. The strength goes out of your knees and you plop back down on the couch, feeling like you've lost your equilibrium. "Oh my god…" you gape, shocked and horrified. "W-What about the agents?"

"They weren't there; just overseeing the operation via radio comms," he grumbles, finding his keys. "It's going to be a huge fiasco now. I gotta go brief Lou on the implications," Luke elaborates his frustration some more, but you are vacant and numb, the horror of what that could mean for Javi, and how terrible the impact of such a loss would be for him weighing you down into silent reticence.

Luke drives you home, and when he apologizes, you assure him it's fine, but when he goes to kiss you on the lips, you turn your face and have him plant his kiss to your cheek instead. You rush out of the car, using the excuse that you don't want to keep him any longer, and as soon as you're inside your apartment, you are shaking with concern for Javi. You want badly to go to him, and don't know what to do. The TV news reports are grim, and when they mention that the colonel's funeral will be tomorrow in the capital, you feel the surreal grief pop like a bubble over you and spur you forward.

Javier is drunk and wallowing in despair, all alone in the dorm room at the barracks, staring off into space while his cigarette sits forgotten in the ashtray and lazily billows its smoke up into the ceiling. Messina had long gone after trying and failing to console him with pleasantries, and his self-loathing was well on its way to eat away at him for the night. He's pouring the last of his whiskey into the glass when his satellite phone starts ringing on the table.

Dejectedly, he stares at it under heavy lidded eyes, slumping in the chair while he deliberates whether to answer. He doesn't want to talk to anyone, but he thinks it might be Steve calling from Bogotá, so he begrudgingly picks the phone up and answers it.

"Peña," he grumbles flatly, expecting Murphy to sigh his greeting.

"Javi."

He sits up and stiffens at the sound of your voice, feeling a myriad of emotions tangle up in his chest.

"I heard what happened. I…I'm so sorry."

He exhales and buries his face in his hand while he holds the phone to his ear with the other. Overwhelmed, he doesn't know what to say, is so gutted emotionally that he doesn't trust himself not to lash out, but he can't help just sit there in his grief and mumble self-loathingly, "Not as sorry as I feel."

There's a tense pause, one he thinks will lead to you hanging up, but it doesn't come. Instead, you forge on, "For fear of sounding like every other platitude you don't want to hear right now, I need you to know: This. Was NOT. Your. Fault."

He exhales a stuttered breath that he hides in a scoff. "It was my play—"

"Javier."

The resolute strength of your intonation silences him, and he feels so roiled with despondency that he can't muster a retort.

"…Regardless of what went into it, you are not to let this pull you under. I…I'm here for you, always."

Javier feels like the biggest asshole in the world right now, but beyond that he's overcome by the urge to be with you. To have you wrap your arms around him, to bask in your grace and loving embrace.

"Querida…I have to go," he finds himself mumbling lowly as he sits up and pinches the bridge of his nose to keep his stunned tears from brimming over from his eyes.

You sigh softly, and he thinks you'll hang up without another word, but you surprise him yet again.

"It's ok not to be ok, Javi. You don't have to bury it…you don't have to hide it from me," you pause, then murmur softly, "I love you."

His heart swells and wrings at the same time, ribs feeling like they're expanding bone-deep while his temples start to throb from how hard he's suppressing his anguish.

"I-I—" he starts, but falters as his feelings splinter, baritone breaking under the weight of his emotions, so he exhales tightly, "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Javi."

When you hang up, you wipe at your eyes, and lie back on your bed, empathically upset and hating being so far away from him right now. You could hear how wrung-out and tormented he is with the devastating outcome he was sitting alone and suffering with guilt over. It isn't fair, and it isn't right, but you understand why he feels so deeply he's responsible for the horrible aftermath.

You have no illusions about who Colonel Carrillo was.

You read the newspapers, heard the gossip, and when Javi would get off the phone with him, or come back from being on assignment with Search Bloc, you saw how faraway and haunted his demeanor would get before you found ways to shake him out of it. But this isn't a place for conventional law and order. You know the lengths some men will go – how far over the line they're willing to go, and all the boundaries they're prepared to cross. And you know Javi is one of those men.

It's given you pause, but as soon as you start to worry, the ruthless, vindictive part of you brushes it aside, because this is a broken world filled with degradation and sadism. Good men have to sometimes do bad things to get evil men in check. As long as they don't lose themselves to it, you think the ends justify the means.

The fact you think like this? You know it says more about you – reveals you to be accepting of cruelty and at home in knowing the world is vicious, and as you stand in the mourners procession the following day, you wonder if anyone else can perceive how psychologically bereaved you are. If they can see you for the callous, detached, hard woman you've become after all these years of being proven right by the world.

After the burial, you walk through the throngs towards the entrance of the cemetery, when you spot Murphy ahead, talking to the colonel's widow. You look about, trying to catch sight of Javier, but you don't see him anywhere. Once his partner wanders off and heads to the parking lot, you follow him, feeling concerned.

Steve is fishing out a cigarette and lighting it as he gets to his jeep, drained and feeling like shit as he tugs at his rumpled collar.

"Agent Murphy?"

Turning to acknowledge you, Steve looks shocked to see you and appraisingly takes your demure-yet-fetching appearance in the long-sleeved black dress and matching flats. He can't help think Javi would be punch-drunk at the sight of you, but he shoves the thought aside and reins in his expression into a civil, stoic regard. "Hey. You can just call me Steve, you know," he muses and lowers his cigarette so the smoke doesn't waft into your face when he walks over and gives you a sober smile. "He's not here."

"Is he ok?" you ask, hand around your purse strap gripping the leather tighter as you fan your other hand down to make sure your black dress's skirt doesn't flare up from the breeze that billows about the parking lot on the overcast day.

"…As good as he could be," Steve mutters and shrugs, looking just as worn down as Javi sounded on the phone the night before. "He just 'doesn't do funerals,' per our boss's retelling," he grumbles and does air quotes after pinning his cigarette between his lips. Then, he offers you a reassuring shoulder squeeze. "I'm sorry he's being an asshole—"

You can't help cracking a sneering smirk. "Stop making me laugh," you grunt and platonically shove him before sobering and diverting your gaze back at the entrance of the cemetery where people are still saying their condolences to the colonel's family. "I'm really sorry about Col. Carrillo. He was a good man."

Steve grunts and nods, finishing his cigarette with a drag and then stubbing it out with his boot.

"Will you…will you tell me if he needs anything?" you find yourself murmuring and glancing back at the tall blond.

Steve gives you a reassuring smile and rasps, "I'll give him a kick in the ass and tell 'em to snap out of it and fix things with you." When you frown, he relents and acknowledges your petition with, "I will, though I don't think he'd be very happy with me for meddlin'. I promise you, he's gonna be alright. It just…it hit him hard."

You nod and take a cleansing breath to not let the emotion bubble up from your chest and well your eyes over. Sighing, you brush your hair over a shoulder and surprise the DEA agent by stepping forward and giving him a firm hug. "Take care of yourself too, Steve."

Disarmed, he doesn't return your hug, and when you walk away, he frowns and regrets being so flippant.

You're not bothered by that, though, because you can feel how wound up the poor man is, and from what you've heard through the grapevine, he's extra edgy after his wife took off with their little girl.

Part of you is tempted to pack a bag and jump in your hatchback and just go check on Javi yourself, but you know how irrational and reckless that would be, so you just spend the rest of the day and night hoping he's recovering from the devastation and not letting it unravel him.

If you knew he was meeting with narcos and paramilitary terrorists in order to make a pack with the Devil in exchange for ensuring the downfall of Escobar, you would've gone to him immediately.

Javier is rattled after his meeting with the Castaños and Judy Moncada, but after the lead she gives him on Maritza pans out, he decides he is willing to step over the gray area into dangerous territory. And when they catch Velasco? Well, he's nothing but eager to entertain the merits of this unholy alliance he's partnering with. Trujillo keeps his secret and even participates – having just as much need for vengeance against the cartel after the ambush and the loss of his mentor. But Javi knows he's playing with fire, and no matter how just it feels, the foreboding weight of it is stifling.

The pressure is definitely on, and after weeks of narcos showing up maimed and torn up along major thoroughfares in Medellín, it's becoming easier for him to make the allowances – to hand over intel to Don Berna and see the gory aftermath. He's pretty sure that Steve suspects something, but he is committed to keeping his partner in the dark – to protect him from any fallout if his involvement with Los Pepes was to ever come out. The close call with Blackie doesn't help, and he has to tip his hand in order to disarm the situation, literally, and by then, he has to not only lie to Steve, but lie to himself.

He's on the inside. His intention was to control it – to steer it to the just results, but instead, he's skirting the chance at collateral damage, and he doesn't want to admit it. It goes on like this for weeks, and while the foreboding doubt starts to eat away at him, he can't argue with the results. Escobar's men are hiding – scared – and the government is turning a blind eye because it's to everyone's benefit to squeeze the cartel. But he doesn't agree with all the methods.

While Javi stews about it at his desk across from the tip line's office, you're on your third cup of bad coffee and stressed, staring at the stack of requisitions and knowing you won't be able to make a dent in it before you're out for the holidays. In a few days, you'd be in Medellín, spending Christmas and New Year's with your abuela, and you are looking forward to the respite from the worry and angst you've been plagued by for weeks. On top of remaining in the dark about what was happening with Javier, you'd ended up having to avoid Luke, who was obviously confused by your reticence towards him now.

You both still had to work together, though, so you made it a point to arrange the meetings – both during and after work hours – to happen at the embassy. He never questioned you, though, and remained professional the entire time. Taking a break from the forms to go up to your next meeting, you idly wonder how long you can keep this up. And as you stride up to the ambassador's office to provide him with the latest status report on his office staff's progress in the program, you can't help wonder if you should maybe invite Luke out for a coffee and explain that you're just not in a good place right now. He's a great guy, and you feel guilty at shining him on, only to go aloof on him.

"Sweetheart! Come right in," Crosby calls out jovially and waves for his secretary to let you by and shut the door. "How're things? Not working too hard before Christmas, I hope."

As you sit in front of his desk, you smile and muse, "Not very hard, ambassador—"

"Now, I keep telling you to cut that shit and call me Arthur. But here you are, still being defiant, after all these years, even now as a grown woman," he hassles boisterously and smirks when you rolls your eyes. "Jesus…you remind me so much of your mother."

Giving him a placid smile, you muse, "That's nice of you to say, but I think my father would argue that there's plenty of him in this face."

"Hah, well, he'd be right," he chuckles and sits back in his leather-bound armchair. "So, before we get down to brass tacks, I wanna make sure you're coming to the Christmas party tonight."

Giving him a coy, albeit hesitant expression, you start to decline, "Oh, that's only ever been for officials and heads of departments, sir—"

"Well, it's a party at my home, so I think I can invite whoever the hell I see fit, darlin'." He waves off and smirks. "I expect you there with bells on. Oh, invite your boy, Ellis, as well! And if you've got dates, bring 'em along too. I'll tell Dotty to add you to the invite list," he charms, and gives you the familiar 'I ain't taking no for an answer' glacial look you grew up seeing whenever you and his son, Gavin, would try to cajole your parents into letting you misbehave more.

"Will do, sir. Thank you," you relent and smile before opening your binder and getting down to business.

Ellis and Anita are thrilled to walk into the lavish and regal home of the ambassador, with you stag and in tow. As promised, your names are on the list, and the greeter directs you to enter the estate and meander up to the main hall where most of the partygoers are milling around and chatting.

"Wow, this is a beautiful home," Anita marvels as she stares at the chandelier and the giant Christmas tree, looking up at the intricately hung garland wreaths throughout while Ellis taps you on the shoulder and points to the fancy spread of food in the dining room.

You're all dressed up for the occasion, with Ellis in his best suit and tie, Anita in a chic navy cocktail dress, and you in an emerald wrap dress and strappy gold heels with matching clutch. They're showy, but Crosby did say to come wearing bells, and you always feel sexy and statuesque in these shoes, but rarely have an occasion to wear them.

Just as the Roses queue up to get some of the banquet-level food, you turn and see Lou chatting in a parlor room with the ambassador, and when he catches your glance, he waves you over, so you go and greet both men politely.

"Thank you for the invite, sir. It's lovely and festive in here," you muse and take the champagne flute a server offers you on a silver tray as he breezes by.

"That's all Nancy's doing, so if you see her, tell her so? She'll be over the moon," he snickers. "This one here? We go way back. To when she was a knot-kneed little hellion with bangs and pigtails," Crosby drawls and enjoys how you scowl at him. "My son and she would run around like savages in the backyard, getting into all sorts of trouble—"

"While you and my father were supposed to be supervising us, but were always watching a ballgame and swearing at the television," you can't help daringly sneer and give the ambassador a defiant grin.

"…Well dammit, way to sell me out, kid," he chuckles and pats you on the back, while Lou laughs and shakes his head. "Just now? That look? That was all your father. Sunovabitch has a devious streak a mile wide," Crosby drawls in his Tennessee twang and winks at you.

The colonel chuckles warmly before he glances over to the main hall and scoffs. "Huh, he actually showed up," Lou grouses and gestures for the ambassador to see that Bill Stechner is waltzing over to the open bar to order himself a drink.

"Nice of you to join us, Bill," the ambassador can't help call out to the steely-eyed balding man. After he strides over, Crosby introduces you to him, and you shake the man's hand while he adds in a drawl, "You two could do a lot of good work. From what I reckon, computers are gonna be a boon for counterintelligence and surveillance."

"So I've been told," Stechner muses in that intonation of his, sounding snide even when he's not seemingly trying to be. "Isn't your father a Vice Admiral?" he remarks aloofly to you before sipping his scotch, eyeing you in what you consider to be a needling way.

Unable to help yourself, you dryly retort, "So I've been told."

Lou stifles a snicker by sipping his drink while Crosby doesn't repress his snicker. A staff member approaches him just after and whispers in his ear, causing the ambassador to sober and nod. When Crosby excuses himself to go greet President Gaviria and his wife, Stechner takes it as an opportunity to slither off to less-crowded corners of the party, and you and Lou catch up. He unknowingly feeds you intel about the goings on at the base, how the fellas are doing, and he even manages to lightly disparage the DEA with a, "Those two cowboys are gonna get themselves riddled with bullets for all the care they take."

You really don't like the sound of that, and when you excuse yourself to get something a bit stiffer at the bar, you are ruminating. Should you reach out to Javi again? You haven't spoken to him in weeks, and hadn't seen Steve around either. The reports coming from Medellín are concerning, and you assumed they're both stuck navigating the mayhem and political strife, but even so…you worry.

Right as you're turning to people-watch from the bar, you glance over and see Luke talking to the colonel. He looks really dashing in his tailored gray blazer and blue polo, black slacks pressed and shoes shined. You're about to glance away when he catches your stare after Lou goes to chat with another official. Before you can register it, you brush your hand self-consciously through your hair and take a sip of your drink, hoping he won't come over. You just feel too damn guilty and exposed right now to entertain anything.

However, his hazel eyes fix on you, and when you finally muster the effort to politely gesture a hello from afar, he makes a beeline for you. Internally swearing, you take another long sip of your drink and war with yourself. After all, you've been putting this off for a while, and a Christmas party is not the proper forum to have a discussion with him, but you don't see any other recourse when he's sidling up to the bar and putting in a request for a vodka tonic.

Once his drink is in-hand, he stands close to you, fanning his cool gaze across the party as he muses, "Can we talk?"

You press your plush lips together and nod.

He gestures out to a foyer that opens up to the back terrace, escorting you over, and holds the door open for you before following you out. The terrace overlooks a pristinely manicured courtyard and interior walls covered in Spanish moss, and even though it's a chilly night, the outside heaters keep the outdoor space cozy. Once you're at the banister, away from any of the other partygoers, Luke leans his hip into it so he can gaze down at you while you nurse your drink.

"You look beautiful."

Startled by the compliment, you glance up ironically at him. "That's what you wanted to come tell me?" you can't help tease and jostle his shoulder playfully.

"No. But it bares saying," he chuckles and idly scratches his jaw. "You're always gorgeous, but tonight, you're devastating."

You feel the apples of your cheeks heat up as you scoff. "Devastating? That sounds serious, soldier—"

"You know what I mean. I'm chancing running you off again, but I can't help tell you. Think of it as my New Year's resolution," Luke muses and charismatically nudges you affectionately.

Sobering, you sigh and shake your head. "I'm sorry, I know I've given you mixed signals—"

"Did I do something wrong? Because at my place, I thought, well…I don't know. I thought I had a chance," Luke's tenor dips into a murmur, lest anyone else hear.

"No…and you did. I just have had a lot on my mind, and I've been…I'm just not in the right place," you find yourself rambling haltingly, and when he just stares concernedly at you, you sigh. "Never mind."

A heavy silence comes between you, and you can't help ache for Javier, wondering if he's ok, and wishing you could look up and see him mingling carefree in the party inside.

"I heard you're taking some vacation time in Medellín," Luke finally chimes in attempt to ease the awkwardness.

"Yeah, I'll be going there for the holidays. I'm looking forward to it," you muse and try to not be so gloomy. "Any plans? When's the last time you went home?"

"Ah, last year, but I'm sticking around here this time," he grumbles and gestures back to the party. "Got plenty of these shindigs to go to next few weeks, funnily enough. It's nice to at least spend this one out here with you."

You laugh and set your empty drink aside on a table before taking his arm and musing, "Well the two little stags can't stay out here all night, so lets get some food and mingle." Luke smiles and follows your lead.

By the time the party is winding down, the group of you have said your goodbyes to the ambassador and his wife – who gushes over seeing you again, and tells you all about how Gavin is married and about to have his second child. You tell her how lovely the party and décor was, to Crosby's delight, and Nancy beams, gives you a hug, and tells you she would love to have lunch and catch up.

A few minutes later, Ellis is ushering a tipsy Anita out the main hall towards the entryway's foyer and shooting you a glance. "Need a ride?" he asks, gaze swiveling between you and Luke inquisitively.

"I can drive you, if you want," Luke volunteers and gives you an easygoing smile.

"Sure," you muse and wave Ellis off. "I'll call you over the holidays."

"Sounds good, girlie."

You and Luke stroll down the driveway and pass the valets a few minutes later, and when the chill prickles your arms and causes you to hug yourself, the gallant Mil Group member sheds his blazer and wraps it over your shoulders. The sense of déjà vu is stark, and your mind flashes to Javi wrapping you in his jacket. Luke's blazer is warm, but doesn't smell close to similar. No cigarette smoke and no spiced musk – instead his is a clean, fresh scent, and you don't mind it as you walk.

When you're in the passenger seat next to him, you glance over and admire how his amiable gaze narrows provocatively on you. Luke has a jawline for days, and his smile is boyish-yet-suave as he eyes you, hazel gaze skimming up your body before he flicks it up to your face. "So…would you be up for a nightcap?" he rumbles in a charming rasp, gaze intensifying.

"At your place," you say more than ask, which stuns him, so you smile wryly and joke, "You're not the only one thinking about resolutions, bub."

He chuckles and nips at his bottom lip impishly. "Glad to hear it."

By the time Luke has you on his couch again, you are tingling, feeling turned on by how attracted he is to you, and when he sidles closer to you on the comfortable sofa, you feel the electric desire hum in you after several drinks and flirty repartee.

When he kisses you this time, you curl into him and let him caress your curves before you wrap your arms around his wide shoulders and deepen the kiss. Luke groans when you shift to sit on his lap, and the bulge in his slacks turns you on more, so when he starts slipping his hands up your dress, you let him.

Before long, he's carrying you to his bedroom, and you undress in a whirlwind before he fishes a condom out of his wallet and rips the wrapper in a hurry while you lie naked across his bed and watch him. His physique is impressive, and you decide all the uniforms, suits and slacks don't do him justice, and when his mouth settles on your neck while he gathers your slick over his throbbing dick by rubbing himself through your folds, you light up with excitement.

But it's a different kind of excitement.

"Mmm, you don't know how bad I wanted this last time," Luke groans when rolls his hips to start pressing into your tight entrance. "Is-Is this ok?"

You lull your head back and sigh. "If you keep asking, I'm going to say no and just leave you like this," you taunt breathily as you thread your fingers into the back of his soft hair and tug. "Please, just…I need to feel good. Want you to feel good too," you find yourself whispering against his lips as you pull your knees up and clutch them around his sides.

But it's not like when you're under Javi.

Before you can obsess on that, Luke is pressing into you and untethering heated want from you, burying his groan against the crook of your neck while you whimper and cling to him.

The sex is great, and you get lost in it after weeks of being hurt and alone, aching for Javi. Regardless of how much you miss your dashing DEA agent, your body reacts to the Mil Grouper's touch, and you chase his lips whenever he brushes them over your mouth. Luke makes you feel really good, and when you come, he purrs a litany of praise in your ear as he thrusts into you. And when he starts snapping his hips in a quickened pace into you, his hands clutch you possessively as he moans, "Oh shit, I'm gonna come, f-fuck, I'm gonna come—"

You wrap your legs around him and cry out, cheeks burning as Luke groans headily and keeps rocking into you so good you feel your sheath tighten and your core flutter, and the feeling is so sensational that you almost cry out Javi's name. You manage to bite down on your, 'Jav—!' and make it sound like a wordless wail of pleasure, but once you come for the second time after Luke reaches climax, you forget how you long for Javi. Luke's humming a sated rumble against you – beyond proud to have plucked pleasure so good out of you, and ends up collapsing on top of you in rapturous completion.

You can't help feel guilty.

After you both recover, Luke goes to tend to the post-coital chore of disposing of the filled condom and comes back with a damp towel for you, but for some reason, it feels much too personal to let him give you aftercare – which is irrational considering you just let him fuck you, so you take the washcloth from him and tend to yourself. When he pulls you close in an attempt to cuddle, you kiss him and climb over him to the side of the bed. He watches you pick up your clothes and start to dress. "Shit…was I that bad?" he exclaims sardonically as he sits up and reaches for you. "You can stay, you know."

"It was great, Luke," you tell him and shy away. "But I should head home. I have to pack and make arrangements for while I'm gone," you reassure before seeing his expressive brows furrow at you and his expression become crestfallen. Pulling your bra and panties on quickly, you lean over and kiss him, caressing the hinge of his chiseled jaw and pulling back to murmur amusedly, "You're too suave to give me puppy eyes, alright?"

He snorts and holds onto your hips to herd you closer. "Can I see you when you get back?" he purrs and nuzzles you.

Hesitating, you sigh and recede from his reach. "You'll see me every day at work, soldier—"

"C'mon, firecracker, you know what I mean. Don't leave me hanging like a loser," he huffs caustically, mirth twinkling in the edges of his hazel eyes.

Slipping into your dress and tying it closed, you brush your hair over a shoulder and purse your lips at him. "Promise me you won't disclose this to the fellas, including Ellis? And…I'll think about it," you haggle haughtily before putting your heels back on.

"Fine, but you're letting me drive you home—" Luke starts and goes to bound out of bed, but you push him to sit back down and kiss him appealingly on the lips.

"I'm a big girl, soldier. I can manage a taxi ride alone," you sneer sarcastically and smirk.

Undeterred, he still snaps on a pair of sweats and walks you out, making sure to steal a kiss before purring a goodnight as you breeze out the door.

Once you're getting out of the taxi and doing the last leg of the walk of shame up to your place a while later, Javier is walking into the latest crime scene left by Los Pepes, and he feels sick to his soul. He's reeling with anger and self-loathing, doubting every decision he's made up to this point, and the horror of being responsible for the deaths of innocents who yes, associated with the cartel? It's left him struggling with ambivalent rage.

He feels so utterly alone in it.

So much so, that when he's sitting by himself in his car parked at the base, dreading going in and having to look Steve in the eyes and pretend he isn't just as guilty as the murderers running around offing entire families out of sadistic spite, he can't help yearn to feel safe – to avoid judgment. So, before he registers the impulse, he's dialing your number.

You've just gotten out of the shower and are in the middle of brushing your hair while you replay the entire night in your regretful thoughts when your phone rings. Grabbing the handset from the nightstand, you sit and answer it, expecting it to be Ellis calling to check in on you.

"Hello?"

"…Querida."

Tensing, your heart squeezes in your chest as a wave of guilt crests over you. "Javi, is everything all right?" you breathe out haltingly, feeling your voice shake, so you clear your throat and press, "Are you ok?"

"…I'm sorry for everything. I was a fool. Everything is fucked up, and it's my fault…I'm just as guilty, and it's only a matter of time before it all falls apart," he rumbles in a hoarse tone, and you feel your heart hurt as he just vents his stream of consciousness. "But all I fucking care about is seeing this through, but I can't—it's gotten out of control…" When he trails off and goes quiet, you're afraid, wishing desperately you could be there with him. "I shouldn't have called. I…I just needed to hear your voice. That night? I j-just wasn't ready to…I'm sorry—"

"Nada de eso," you tell him firmly. You hear him give a tense exhale, sounding tangled up with emotions. Your mind is reeling, but then you get an idea, and decide it's worth the exposure of your raw feelings. Deliberately, you murmur, "If I call you this week, I want you to promise me you'll listen and do as I say."

"I don't…" he pauses as if he's trying to decipher some hidden meaning in what you're saying. After a hesitant silence from him, he rumbles, "I will. I promise."

Inhaling a fortifying breath, you curl back against the headboard and murmur, "Good," and hesitate before whispering, "I can't stop thinking about you."

He exhales a tremulous sound, and you want so badly to be close to him. "I can't either. You're always on my mind, cariño. Wish things…wish it'd gone differently. I should've done more—"

"All you have to do now is leave it in the past," you tell him, and he grunts a moody sound, so you huff testily, "Don't argue with me. You know I'm right."

When you hear him chuckle, you soften. "It's futile to argue with you," he grumbles in a gravelly tone, and then murmurs, "I gotta go, querida…Thank you…I-I needed this…."

You smile and radiate with fond yearning, tucking your knees against your chest and internally wincing at your aching muscles. "Be safe, chulo." He grumbles humorously at that, so you add softly, "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, preciosa."

Your heart flutters, and for an instant, you forget how guilty you feel. However, you keep it at bay, and by the time you leave the capital, you feel like a woman on a mission. You keep said mission to yourself when you spend time with your abuela, doing all the activities she wants, enjoying the quality time together, and avoiding giving her any details about your relationship status.

But she is relentless, and when her musing questions get evasive answers, she finally sits in her chair across from the quaint little Christmas tree you'd both been decorating and eyes you sharply.

"Did you break up with him?" She asks point blank, and you turn to her scowling at you.

"'Buela, he's a busy man, and we're just not able to see each other as much. It's not some big drama," you tell her, lying through your teeth, but you add jokingly, "And even if I did dump him, I don't need you running out with a broomstick to thwack him on the back of the head with it—"

"Ah, that happened one time, and that little fiend deserved it!" she shakes her fist comically at the reference of the time she chased a guy off when he was trying to flirt with you in front of the house when you'd been thirteen. Never mind you'd already made out with him a week prior in the park behind the cemetery, but she didn't need to know that.

The Christmas spirit is strong in Medellín, and anyone not from there would be bowled over by the level of festive energy that radiates throughout the city, from lower class neighborhoods to elite suburbs. There's even a little artificial tree decorating the foyer of the police academy's main building, and while it pales in comparison to the overly done up decorations outside in every comuna as far as the eye can see, it's an attempt at sprucing up the place. It's Steve's turn to man the tip line, so Javi is using the down time to type up his latest status reports for Messina.

Half-smoked cigarette dangling from his full lips as he concentrates, he's typing away with his pointer fingers and blocking out the ambient chatter and noise buzzing around him when his desk phone starts ringing. Glaring over at it, he huffs and stubs his cigarette out before answering it.

"Peña."

"Corner of Calle Las Monjas and Avenida Flamboyán. 4:30pm."

Freezing, Javi tries to decipher what the message means while he's trying to understand how you got his desk number and what in the hell you're doing. "What? What's there—?"

"You promised. Listen and follow direction, agente," is your curt instruction before hanging up.

Bemused and floored, Javi hangs up the phone and stares at it. Checking his watch, he sees it's half hour until 4:30pm, and when he looks up a map of the metropolitan area, he finds the location in question is about twenty minutes away from the police academy.

Steve had told him how you'd been at Carrillo's funeral and had asked about him, and until he'd broken down and called you the other night, he didn't know if you were upset with him or just wanting to be there for him. He's always been awed by your fierceness, and how empathetic you truly were, no matter what. So, what in the world could this whole thing be about? He wasn't sure, so, grunting curiously, he sets his work aside, stands, retrieves his pistol from the desk drawer and tucks it in the back of his waistband before hustling over to the tip-line office.

"Hey, uh, I'm heading out. Don't know when I'll be back, but if Messina calls, can you run interference?" Javier mutters covertly to Steve, giving him a steely look that says, 'don't ask questions, please.'

Tilting his head, Steve narrows his appraising glance before nodding and grumbling, "Watch your ass out there…"

"Pfft, watch it for me," Javier jokes and struts off to grab his leather jacket from the wall hook and shrugs it on as he lopes up the steps and exits.

He's driving up the street fifteen minutes later, and once he finds a parking spot across from an alley, he gets out of the jeep and surveys his surroundings.

Las Monjas is a street on an older side of town, so it's still mostly cobblestone and wrought iron fences around the large dark-brick and mortared building on the corner behind the heavy gates. It's really the only thing open on the street adjacent to the avenue, and as he walks up, he glances around. There are groups of mostly field tripping school children going into the building, and when he walks over and reads the placard, he learns the building is the oldest nunnery in Medellín, and is now a museum that preserves the interior décor and lodgings that date as far back as the eighteenth century. Perplexed, Javi goes through the gates and looms behind the group that's currently walking in and greeting a woman dressed demurely at the door.

"Excuse me, uh—" he begins to inquire after he approaches her, but she smiles and points for him to go down a specific corridor.

Seeing his confused and hesitating demeanor, she smiles and muses, "We have a lovely chapel, and adjacent to it are the courtyard doors. The flamboyanes are really worth the sight."

Stoically, Javi nods and goes down the corridor, finding it's not as bustling as the main hall, and peruses the space before turning down towards the open courtyard doors. The woman wasn't lying, which he supposes it'd be blasphemous to do so in an old nunnery, but still. The trees are in full bloom and resplendent under the late afternoon sun, catching in the flame-colored flowers and setting the ground in a shadowy glow as he strolls around, looking up at the fronds that are tussled by a light, late afternoon breeze.

"You take direction well."

Whirling, Javi stares wide eyed at you as you emerge. You're dressed in a long peach tunic and dark peasant trousers with leather flats, standing just hidden behind a statue of the Virgin Mary that's tucked against the façade of the building. He's completely stunned, so you take the opportunity to admire his handsome appearance – wearing a pale-gray shirt under his leather jacket – looking wondrously bemused, so you lope over and stare up at him through your long, dark lashes before smiling.

Javi darts his worried gaze around, and once he's assured you're both alone, he pulls you into his arms and buries his face into your neck. You hug him tightly, flooding over with adoration and comfort as you press your nose against him and take in his scent.

"What—what're you—?" Javi begins to ask when he pulls back and intensely stares down at you, but you shush him and take his hand, towing him resolutely behind you to rush down a path tucked around the corner from the courtyard.

As you both go, he catalogues everything, but gets more and more confused as you lead him down an alcove and up into a side entrance covered in ivy into a stone-stacked building that is seemingly adjacent to the nunnery. Leading him through the dimly lit hallway, you pivot up an interior stone staircase up to the 3rd level. It's a austere corridor lit by oil lamps sitting within inset recesses, and when you glance back at him and see he's memorizing your surroundings, you smile and lead him to the end of the hall and through a modest-looking wooden door.

Once you pull him inside with you and shut the door after him, you let Javi take everything in.

The room you've pulled him into is cozy, albeit small with a humble bed tucked against the wall adjacent to the tall and narrow open-air-window that spies out to the courtyard you'd both just been in. There is a dresser with a water basin and large pitcher, and a candleholder on the table next to it. On the bed, there is a thick, plush cream blanket draped over the more threadbare bedding covers of the narrow mattress, and he notices a woven tote tucked away next to the dresser.

Turning to stare at you, he quirks his brows inquisitively.

"Are we in a nun's room?" he asks in shock, and you see his eyes flare dubiously when you nod simply and lean back against the closed door. "…If I wasn't going to burn in hell before, I sure am now," he marvels in a snarky tone and shies away from touching any of the furniture.

"It's a hostel, silly. The nunnery rents this wing of the building out for people to stay in. I prepaid for the night stay…asked the lady out front to steer you to the courtyard," you tell him and purposely saunter over and sit on the bed, temptingly tilting your head goadingly up at him and musing, "No room service or anything, but it's the last place I figured anyone you know would be—"

Javi scoffs admonishingly and starts to pace, snapping out of his stupefaction and yearning pining at seeing you to fixate on the whole reason why he'd pushed you away to begin with. "Je—" he begins to swear, but stops himself and turns back in frustration to scowl at you. "What would possess you to pull something like this?!"

Startled, you adjust on the bed and furrow your brows in confusion. "I wanted to see you…" you murmur, feeling wounded by his reaction. "I…I just…" you begin, but you feel yourself start to get upset, so you stand and go to grab your purse you left on the side table. "Never mind. Forget it, then—" is your fuming mutter as you go to stalk to the door and storm out.

He beats you to the door and holds it closed when you try to open it. "Dam—" he stops himself from swearing again, and grumbles instead, "I'm sorry, querida. I'm just—things are just..."

Glancing at him, you hold his gaze and frown. "Look, I don't know what's going on with you, but if I'm just a fucking burden—" Javi's eyes widen at your use of profanity in a holy place, and you scoff and shove him crossly. "The nuns are dead, Javier. I don't think they give a damn if we swear!" you snap and continue tersely, "If this is too much for you, fine, I'm sorry for bothering you—"

Javi encircling your waist before pulling you against him with an exasperated grunt cuts your harangue short. "That's not it. But dammit…why do you have to be so fucking amazing?" he grouses as he lowers to nuzzle you, and your anger fizzles out of you as you lean into him and hum questioningly. "You shouldn't be here. Shouldn't be around me," he murmurs lowly before burying his nose against your neck and sighing.

"…What happened, Javi," you whisper, tossing your purse aside to caress his back, feeling him tense. "What are you trying to keep me away from?"

When he hesitates, you scoff and force him to sit on the bed with you, where you sternly glare at him while you let him have it.

"If this is that leverage thing you told me about? If it's someone threatening me to get to you, then I deserve to know," you tell him irrefutably and squeeze his hand.

His expression shutters in, jaw setting tightly and eyes intensifying on you. Yep, you were right. The theory had crossed your mind once or twice before, but you'd dismissed it outright. It wasn't until after he'd called you the other night sounding so fraught, and you'd had the entire hours drive to Medellín that you truly considered it, and the ramifications of this realization are not being taken lightly, but really, unless someone is pointing a gun at your head? You will not let anyone dictate how you live your life. You simply cannot abide it, and don't understand why he would.

"…It's not that simple. There are things I've gotten into. I have to insulate everyone around me from it, in case there's blowback, and I won't risk you and your safety," Javi tells you irrevocably, cupping your cheek and exhaling as he gazes into your worried features. "Please, querida. All I want to do is protect you—"

"Who's protecting you?" you counter and look truly flustered with him now. "Why is it you taking this liability alone?!" When Javier swivels his tense gaze away, you erupt. "Goddammit, Javier. If you think I'm going to sit here and let you push me away over some veiled shit, I will rain holy hell on you!"

You feel his temper boil over at that, but he swallows it down and intently stares at you as he growls, "Fucking Cali cartel threatened you—!"

"Oh yeah? How?!" you snap, eyes blazing with defiance as you lean back, cross your arms and glare at him. "Did they say they'll shoot me in the street? Poison me? Strangle me with piano wire? Toss me off the top of a building?! What?!"

"It's never like that!" he gripes, exasperated with you now as he buffets his hands down into the tops of his jean-clad thighs and seethes, "You don't have any idea. It's subtle, and implied—"

"I don't care if it was done with a carnation and a card, Javier. If you think I'm going to live my life letting the caballeros de Cali scare me?" you counter and grab him when he grumbles furiously and goes to storm off. "The leverage only works if you let them scare you off. Are you telling me you're not going after them because of me?" you query sharply.

Riled, Javi sits back and scoffs, "No, but—"

"So then? What the hell – what is the issue?" you press. His molten gaze flickers with worry and before he can divert it from yours, you cup his jaw and steer him back to look at you as you declare, "If the issue is you no longer want to do this, then you need to say it—"

"That's not it—!"

"Then what is it—?!"

"I fucking love you."

You pause, feeling a little tremble go down your spine at how adamant his tone is and how rapaciously he's looking at you.

"I am terrified. Everything here…it's only a matter of time before it blows up, and I'm the one holding the grenade. I'm prepared to lose everything to nail these motherfuckers…but, I just…I cannot risk losing you," Javi tells you, and you feel bare and raw from his words, so when he murmurs, "I can't protect myself, but I will protect you from all of this, do you understand?" you ache, floored by his conviction.

Overcome, you nod and scoot closer to wrap your arms around him. Javier shudders a tense breath out and hugs you to him possessively, feeling anchored for the first time in weeks when he's in your arms, surrounded by your lovely perfume and indulgent embrace. He's so warm, scent spiced and smoky, hair soft against your cheek. Being so close, after so long, you feel that gravitation pull you into each other, and your soft kiss to his temple leads to a brush of his lips along your jaw, igniting little fires of desire between you. When he brushes his nose against yours and pulls you closer, you kiss him, and the feeling of his lips against yours is explosive – igniting you with urge, especially when he groans and kisses you back with yearning.

You find yourself pushing his jacket off his shoulders to be discarded to the stone floor. Then, you take his gun out from the back of his waistband and unseeingly plop it down on the dresser across from the bed while he snaps his watch off and tosses it aside. When you slink up so you can get closer, Javi pulls you against him, and you feel his warm skin under his shirt and get lost in him deepening the kiss – swiping his tongue into the cup of your mouth to duel for dominance with yours while his hand sweeps into the back of your hair and entwines in the tresses. You're throbbing between your thighs, arousal beseeching and desire wanton for him as you moan into his mouth and grip the back of his shoulder when he pivots you to drape your legs over his.

Javi is burning with need after going so long without you, and without his permission, his own mind betrays him to recalling the last time he'd been carnally entangled.

Abruptly breaking the kiss and easing back, Javi's stuttering breath and heavy-lidded eyes cause a twinge of anxiety to pull at your heartstrings, worrying he's going to push you away again.

"Fuck…I have to tell you something, and I know you're gonna be furious," he grumbles hoarsely and soothingly combs his hand to brush your hair from your face while the other kneads affectionately into the nape of your neck. "I've…while I've been in Medellín," he pauses, trying to parcel out his words carefully as your dazzling eyes gaze openly at him. "I had someone I was seeing. I'm not anymore," he says and quickly asserts, adding firmly, "I don't want to keep it from you, though."

The flare of jealousy rises in you but is quickly doused by your own guilt, so you flick your gaze away and ruefully sigh. "Well, you're not the only one, so…"

Javi's gaze narrows, and the anger that bubbles up in him is irrational and self-centered, so he sets his jaw and trains his features into neutrality. He attempts to rein in his jealousy, but…he can't help himself, so he asks, "Who?"

Startled that he would dare want to know, you counter, "You first."

Glowering, he leans back against the wall and huffs his exhale. "An escort," he mutters aloofly and bores his coffee-brewed gaze into you.

Your hackles are winding up, wanting so badly to rise irately at his charitable answer, but you snuff the impulse and retort cavalierly, "You really wanna spend this time asking—"

"Who."

You sigh, shed your shoes, and adjust to sit with a leg folded under you on the bed and pull the other so you can lean into your bent knee as you self-consciously brush your hair behind your shoulders. Snagging a wispy strand and curling it between your fingers impulsively, you answer flatly, "Luke."

The simmering fury boils over in him, but he manages not to let it loose. However, his eyes are searing as he stares at you. "I know I have no right, but that really pisses me off," he growls, and he's so irascible with jealousy, that his nostrils flare crossly as he squeezes his jaw tight to stop himself from saying anything else, curling his hands into fists he presses into his thighs.

"Good, now you know how I felt, don't you?" you can't help jab and scoff as you go to stand.

His hand bracelets around your forearm and hauls you back down and onto him. "Are you seeing him?" he seethes between tight lips, gaze surly as he catalogues your reaction.

"We've been out together…and yes, he wants to pursue something," you tell him honestly and try to pull away, but he wraps his hand around the small of your back and pins you against his semi-reclined, broad frame. "And your escort?" you sneer, scathing, "Did she do it for you? Or did you toss her aside too—"

You gasp when Javi suddenly picks you up by your thighs and lifts you effortlessly to straddle his lap as he lurches forward to sit on the side of the bed and presses you down over his crotch, making you feel how rock-hard he is.

"Every fucking time I was with her, all I could think about was you," he husks vehemently and presses his forehead to yours, smoldering eyes locking onto your awed gaze. "After all the shit that's happened, I don't think I'll ever fuck with a working girl again, which means I'm fucked for life and might as well move into this room permanently and become a goddamned monk, because all I ever want, is to be with you," he grouses ardently, heart pounding in his chest with trepidation at your impending rejection.

Instead of getting pushed away, Javi gets pulled closer by your hand fisting in the front of his shirt while the other threads into his hair to guide him to meet your hungry kiss. You kiss him until you're breathless, and then you kiss him more as you start yanking his shirt buttons undone while he starts hiking your blouse up.

When you finally break the kiss so he can discard your top, Javi yanks you flush with him, and you gasp as he suckles possessive kisses into your neck while you shove his shirt down his arms. You're reveling in the dizzying feeling, and confess, "I wanted to be with you," and when he groans and mouths down your chest while he unfastens your bra, you add, "I wanted it to be you so bad, I almost said your name—"

"I'm gonna make you say it here and now," he growls darkly as he tugs your bra off and starts undressing you of your pants. "Gonna make you mine," Javi promises in a lascivious husk as he pulls your panties down and touches your soaked pussy possessively. "Want to keep you wet for me like this forever—"

You gasp and arch into him as he lays you back on the narrow bed, but you grab fast at his belt buckle and hold him in place as you hurriedly unfasten it and his jeans while you kiss his jaw, earning husky groans and a heated stare from him. "¿Y tú, eres mío?" you purr imperiously as you free his cock and stroke it, earning a hoarse, strangled moan from him. "Are you all mine?"

"Yes—I'm all yours, querida," he hisses fervently and hastily strips out of what's left of his clothes so he can press down onto you. Once the making out gets really heated, Javi gathers you up against him before he shifts to sit with you naked on his lap so he can rut through your drenched folds with his cock. "I'll always be yours," he hitches out as he starts pressing into your addictive and tight heat, bowing his head into your chest when you cry out in excitement and arch in his arms as you buck down on him.

The utilitarian room fills with the sounds of your passionate coupling, the shallow pitches of your cries and his reedy gasps of pleasure echoing thanks to the solid walls. You're so enthralled in the throes of rapturous delight though, you don't care, not when Javi is claiming you with his warm mouth and possessively gripping you to him as you ride his cock and trail hungry kisses over his throat, collarbones, jaw and lips.

Javi clutches your ass in his big hands and squeezes as you grind down on him hard, eliciting a broken growl from his chest as he arches and holds on to you while you whimper and scrape your teeth over his trapezius before biting into the sloping muscle. Pleasure haywires his mind and has him fucking up into you with abandon now as he lets loose weeks of pent-up need that's been coiling in his gut.

"Oh, fuck—" His fingers dig roughly into the plump flesh of your ass as he starts to plunge you onto him. "You're fucking amazing. Feel so good, so tight—"

"Ahh—Ja-Javi, oh god!" you cry out as he hammers up into your clustered pleasure nested deep inside you. When he grips your hip, tilts your pelvis, and grinds you over him, you light up and writhe with incinerating sensation and wail, "Javi!"

"Louder," he growls and bucks his hips up into you before nipping gently at your nipple, laving his tongue languidly over the pebbled flesh when you mewl. "Want everyone to hear you say it," he purrs covetously before leaning back against the wall and gripping your waist so he can pound you over his throbbing, straining cock when he feels your silken heat start to flutter and clench around him. "C'mon, baby, say it for me."

You whimper incandescently and toss your head back as your body starts to wind tight with a scorching release, teetering right on the precipice of it as you shout, "Oh Javi, I'm gonna come—oh g-god, I'm gonna come, Javi!"

He's drunk with savage desire at the sight of you bouncing up and down on his lap as you wail his name, hands gripping his forearms desperately to hang on while you shut your eyes as Javi works you over into a hearty orgasm. Your greedy sheath clenches around him, tearing a strangled, "Preciosa—f-fuck—" out of him, and when your walls clamp down and nestle him deep just as his cock starts to swell and twitch inside you, he moans a harsh, guttural sound.

Javi's startled by the force and rush of his orgasm as it comes almost at the same time as you crying in a pitched, drawn out moan, "Javi!" when you arch into him and climax. Your tingling pussy wrings and floods over on him, and Javi shouts your name and rides out the aftershocks, coming so hard in you that he feels your sheath quiver as you moan and cling to him while you ramble, "Yes, oh yes, yes Javi—m-missed this. Missed you—n-need you—" while you mindlessly rock into him and milk his bliss from him.

Collapsing bonelessly back against the wall with you clinging to his torso, Javi gulps hearty breaths in attempt to calm his rushing senses, and holds you against him as he buries his face into your mussed hair and breathes in your sweaty and sweet scent. The sparse room permeates with the scintillating scent of sweat and sex now while Javi's arms cling to you like he might fall into an abyss in this mind-blown state. You are just as fucked out, feeling like melted putty as you plaster yourself into him and dazedly nuzzle him with spent, wistful kisses.

On sex-addled delay, your brain registers just how warm you are pressed over his chest and thighs, and how nice it feels to have his fingers gliding in a lazy, idle skim up and down your back while you both recover. Javi sighs when your arms loop around his shoulders so you can soothingly caress your fingers in his hair while you nuzzle his sideburn and place doting kisses there before he turns his head and captures your lips with his.

You kiss languidly, tongues caressing and lips melding passionately while you come down from the searing orgasm and start to feel his spend seep out of your fluttering sheath. Javi protests with a drawn out grunt as you lift off him, softening dick receding from your drenched cunt with a filthy sound that makes you shiver. You shy away and shift off his lap to lie on your back to try and keep his seed inside you, and when you sigh and clench your thighs closed as you start to drip your comingled essence onto the blanket beneath you, he surprises you be leaning over and nudging them open.

Trembling, you begin to protest meekly, "Javi—" but the look in his eyes has you fidgeting with fascination.

You gasp when he kisses the inside of your knee before running his forefinger to cup the pearled slick dribbling from your slit to press it back into you as he purrs wistfully, "Missed getting your glorious pussy creamy like this, leaking my cum." You mewl and open your legs wider to him when he bends to loom over you so he can kiss your stomach before leaning up and gazing amorously down at you. The sunlight coming from the narrow window flares his dark hair a chocolate chestnut hue, thick tufts curling as a haloed crown that you find yourself filtering your fingers through. "I love you, hermosa. Want you to be mine, only mine, always," he husks in a murmur as he reverently traces his fingertips across your collarbone while he leans down and nuzzles your jaw. "I don't deserve you, but I want you—"

"You have me, Javi," you whisper and kiss his temple before nudging him to turn to look at you. "You don't have to push me away," you muse and caress his cheek. "You don't have to be alone in this."

Javi exhales exhaustedly and cuddles into you, relishing how you wrap your arms and legs around him protectively, holding him close as you shower him with kisses. Your powerful grace spellbinds him into the moment, and he doesn't argue with you—doesn't want to dwell on it and lose this post-bliss yearning to his self-loathing and fears. So, he shifts to lie next to you and hold you close, sprawled out as best as possible on the tight bed with you slinked up against him, carving your hips into his and clinging to his broad chest.

"…I can't believe we're lounging naked on an ancient nun's bed…"

You giggle into his throat – head tucked under his chin shifting so you can tilt your face up and cheekily kiss into his mandible. "You defiled me on this bed, on consecrated ground, no less. You scoundrel," you joke in a faux-coy intonation, grinning when he irreverently squeezes you against him and grunts in feigned outrage. "I've been ruined. What man will have me now," you chime dramatically and stretch out so you can lean away from him and press the back of your hand to your forehead in a 'woe is me' pantomime.

"Atrevida," he grumbles and grips your hip to press you closer. "But seriously…I'm sure they're gonna frown upon us for having sullied these covers—"

"Oh, I brought the blanket," you tell him, and he stares at you comically. "What? I wasn't going to chance actually having sex on hundred-year-old sheets—"

"Jesus Christ," he snickers and shakes his head derisively before burying his face into your neck. "You are wicked, querida."

You snort at that and pinch his side playfully. "And you're cruel. I don't know why I put up with you," you lament sardonically, acerbically drawling, "Having me feel crazy all the time…"

He grunts disapprovingly and nuzzles your neck before kissing a path up to your cheek. "Not crazy enough to not go out with that asshole," he grumbles, and you swat his arm. "It's bad enough I've had to think about you getting flirted up by the ambassador—"

"Pffft, what?!" you exclaim wryly and lean up on your elbow to balk comically at him. "Crosby?!"

"The day of the meeting. I saw how happy he was to see you," he sorely mutters and presses his lips together in a surly scowl. After all, you had told him about your first time being with an old Navy buddy of your father's, and Crosby fit the bill, being a badass Navy man—

"Oh my god—Crosby is an old Navy Seal friend of my father's! From when he was stationed in Virginia Beach," you explain and brashly shove him to lie under you as you drape over his chest and scathe, "You thought I'd slept with him?!"

"The way you two were going on, I just assumed—" Javi lamely retorts and arches a sarcastic brow at your haughty huff.

"I hooked up with an old Naval Academy buddy of my father's, not Crosby. I used to have play dates with his son, for Christ's sake," you laugh and snicker when Javi releases his tense breath in a sigh of relief. "He used to get a kick out of the mischief we'd get into while my father would be furious," you scoff amusedly before snapping, "Jesus, you really think I'd be that cool if our boss ended up being someone I lost my virginity to?!" You can't help cackle at his expense, especially when he starts mercilessly groping you while he suckles vengeful kisses into your neck and jaw.

"Yeah, well, I'd added it to the list of all the shit I have to put up with for loving you," he tells you gruffly before kissing you and rolling you onto your side.

You sigh and snuggle into his warm, nude form before laconically jibing, "You think every man at the embassy wants to fuck me—"

"No, but plenty do," he cuts in ruggedly and fondles you with possessive care. "I have an inkling that if Steve wasn't married, he'd make a play for you—"

"You are ridiculous," you scoff and nudge him, giving him a lopsided grin. "That poor guy…did he tell you I saw him, at the funeral?" you ask tentatively and stare into his brewed depths.

His eyes crinkle as he nods, reminded of Carrillo and sobering in his demeanor.

While the sun starts to set outside, spilling rusty hues of orange light into the small room, you and Javi cuddle and talk, in no hurry to be apart. You sense he needs this, and truthfully you hope he will stop evading his feelings and tell you what's got him tangled up. It's also the only time you've both felt safe enough to confide the things that have eaten away at you for weeks.

Javi is thankful, having longed to be with you like this since you'd stormed out of his apartment, and he can't help let his guard down when you lovingly encourage him with your gentle grace. He tenderly caresses your completely healed side in languid strokes while he tells you what happened with the raid, and why he feels personally responsible for Carrillo's death. Your eyes tremble as he unburdens himself, and you are silent as he lets his stream of consciousness pour out of him after being tormented with it. He doesn't tell you about his dealings with Don Berna, or how he feels trapped, but he feels suffocated with the weight of it, so he scoots back and wars with himself.

When he exhales and drapes his palm over his eyes, you expect him to clam up, but instead, Javi grits out, "Now I'm in too deep…"

You sit up and consolingly squeeze your hand at his side so he can look at you again. "With what?"

He shifts to sit back against the wall and bury his face in his hands. "…Nothing. It's nothing—" he tries to tersely evade. His shoulders square when you yank his hands away by his wrists and imperiously stare into his tortured expression. "It's better if you don't know…I shouldn't have said anything."

Your tenacious thoughts begin to theorize every horrible scenario possible, and when you recall all of the vengeance being exacted out on the Medellín cartel, you find yourself stumbling into a chilling deduction.

"So…the Cali cartel formed Los Pepes."

Javier's gaze snaps up in stunned bemusement onto yours. Your expression is sharp and unflinching, and unbidden, he recalls every time you were able to peel back his layers of obfuscation and accurately hit the target – to retrieve the truth with little giveaway or hint. Vacantly, he wonders if that's something you've inherited from your father—

"There's no proof of that," he finds himself deflecting and bounds up from the bed to start getting dressed, hastily yanking garments on as you sit up and idly run your fingers through your hair, watching how tense he's becoming.

"But you suspect it," you press and gather your blanket around yourself as you watch him pull his jeans on. "That's why you won't tell me anything. Because the same guy who made the veiled threat is in cahoots with the people who are with Los Pepes—"

"I'm not discussing this with you," he suddenly snaps dismissively and snatches his shirt from the floor. "My work is off-limits—"

"Los Pepes is your work now, then?" you blurt out and grab at his wrist when he tenses and turns away from you. "…Javier, I'm not a civilian. There's nothing," you pause, yanking his arm to force him to turn and look at you. When he does with an intensely guarded stare, you continue, "There's nothing you could tell me that would change how I feel about you."

Disarmed and shaken, Javi reels back and snatches his wrist free of your grip so he can yank his shirt on and button it closed hastily. "Don't fucking say that. You don't know—"

"I don't?"

He pauses at your calm rhetorical question. When he turns back towards you, he hesitates, not knowing what to say as you stand and start to collect your things and get dressed. Once you've finished pulling your blouse over your head, you turn and fold the blanket you brought, shove it into your tote, and toss it onto the bed as you slip your feet into your leather flats. When you've collected your thoughts, you sigh and turn to go to him, wrapping your arms around his torso and leaning into his broad frame.

"I don't care what you do, just as long as you're still you after all of it," you declare decisively and squeeze him. "I don't want you to lose yourself in this corrupt, fucked up, degrading hell you're in. You're a good man, and I accept the world for what it is. And, unfortunately, well…good men have to do bad things sometimes to keep evil men in check."

Javier is absolutely floored – completely beside himself and struggling to absorb the irrefutable conviction you're exuding in telling him this. You feel him internally struggling with it, and coiling up against the turmoil, so you lean back and stare up at him, eyes calm but authoritative as you wait for him to answer you.

"Querida…" he hitches, hands tense as they cup your face. "Good or bad has nothing to do with it. If this blows up, it's not going to matter what was done and why. I don't know—don't think I can walk away without damage…and if there's fallout, I don't want you near me," he explains in a disquieting whisper.

Your eyes brim with tears at that, and before you can stop yourself, you lash out and turn away, not wanting to weep in front of him. "Fine…if that's what you want, I respect it and will stay away," you tell him as you collect your tote and purse, face burning from the effort of keeping your grief bottled away.

Just as you go to the door and hesitate, Javier states on a tremulous baritone, "It's for the best."

Your heart sinks into your stomach at that, and you internally wilt. "If that's what you believe…I'm not going to keep trying to change your mind," you exhale tightly before opening the door and exiting without looking back at him.

Javi watches you go, completely crushed and feeling adrift. The voice inside him bellows for him to chase after you, but he doesn't. He can't, and no matter how much he loves you, the thought of you being safe and far away from being part of the fallout or collateral damage to his just criminality is the only motivation he has left. He can't bear the thought of you taking on his sins, so he will shield you from it all at the cost of his own despair.

Finishing getting dressed, Javi absconds out of the musty and cold room and away from the hostel, stalking off on autopilot the rest of the way to his car while you spend another evening drive crying, heartsick and soul crushed, emotionally floundering at what to do. And when your ruminating quiets your distraught heart, you come to a numbing conclusion.

You can't protect Javi. No matter how much you want to be there for him, he won't allow you to, and if your presence could cause him to be burdened with worry – or become a liability to him? Then it's not your place to fight his wishes. No matter how much it tatters your heart.

Feeling emotionally torn asunder, you sit in your car once you've parked on your grandmother's street and spend the silence collecting yourself. But just when you think you won't dissolve into any more tears, your heart aches at the thought that you didn't even say goodbye, or tell him you love him.

You're just a burden. None of that would've made it any easier for him. It's best you give up and move on…

Hurt, you let the thought hollow you out, and pretty soon, you feel nothing but emptiness, and you're glad for it as you center yourself and put on a happy face for the holidays ahead.

---

Spanish-English Glossary:

Coquí = Puerto Rican tree frog; they croak 'coquí', hence their name

Dulzura = sweetness; nickname similar to sweetie

Te puedes quedar = You can stay

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

Abuela = grandmother

Nada de eso = None of that

Cariño = darling/sweetheart

Chulo/Chulito = cute guy; little cutie

Preciosa = Gorgeous; precious

Comuna = Comune; Neighborhood

Calle = Street

Avenida = Avenue

Flamboyanes = Fire flower trees

Caballeros de Cali = Gentlemen of Cali

¿Y tú, eres mío? = And you, are you mine?

Hermosa = beautiful

Atrevido/Atrevida = Daring man/Daring woman

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