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?

24. Chapter 24: Chemistry

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of sex, including explicit depictions of unprotected sex. Mentions of menstrual pain, raunchy conversations, allusions to past trauma, unhealthy relationships, abusive ex, physical and emotional violence, gun violence, and angst. Protective!Javi, Tender!Javi, Possessive!Javi, Soft!Javi, Boss!Javi.

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Chapter 24: Chemistry

You wake up early the next morning feeling clumsy with exhaustion, eyes fluttering and focusing on the alarm clock. There's still a few minutes before it's supposed to go off, so you lie on your side and just relax, smiling to yourself when your hearing tunes and sharpens to Javi's purring snore. You covertly glance over your shoulder and see he's sprawled out on his stomach, hogging most of the bed, which has relegated you to hug the edge of your side of the mattress. His broad, smooth tanned back rises and falls with his calm, deep breathing. Fuzzily, you stretch and sit up slightly, stifling your yawn before your eyes focus more and finally notice the glass of water tucked on a coaster on the nightstand next to you.

Smiling, you realize Javi must've gotten up during the night and gone to quench his thirst before setting a glass aside for you, just in case. You take it and drink greedily from it, feeling quite parched after all of the salacious indulgences of the night before. Just as you let out a contented sigh and set the empty glass aside, the alarm goes off. Javi begins to stir, so you quickly turn the blaring off and shift to sit at the side of the bed so you can stretch out your back.

You hear him roll over and grumble wordlessly before slinking closer so he can drape an arm around your lap. "Mornin', corazón," he mumbles sleepily and gives you an affectionate squeeze.

Smiling, you loop your arm backwards to massage his nape dotingly. "Buenos días, mi patrón," you purr, tone still a bit raspy from disuse.

That snaps him completely awake. "…You are such a damn atrevida," he growls irreverently and bounds up to encircle your waist with both arms so he can haul you to press back against his chest while he mercilessly nuzzles kisses into your shoulder and neck.

Your giggle is smoky and silly as you wriggle in his grasp, fending him off so you can stay sat upright. "I'm only messing around! No need to retaliate," you chime and swat his comforter-covered ass before pivoting to sit with a leg folded under you so you can gaze down at him and ruffle his bed-hair. "You know, you have the cutest snore," is your derisive musing, which earns a dry grunt from Javi. "I'm serious. I know I've told you before; sound like a big cat purring—"

"Ugh, that doesn't sound cute at all, cariño," he rumbles and pouts as he stretches the kinks out of his back before yawning. "Hmph, meanwhile, you don't snore. You just whip me in the face with your hair—"

"Oh no! Still?" you frown and idly fiddle with your hair and the shoulder strap of your baby doll.

He grunts in the affirmative and slinks to sit up, swinging his legs over to the side of the bed so he can sit next to you. "If we start off spooning, though, it doesn't happen as much," he remarks as he herds you against his side so he can bury his nose into the top of your mussed hair. You make a displeased sound, so he cheekily grips your waist and mutters, "It's fine. Don't get all grumpy about it," he teases, so you scoff and wryly pinch his side when you go to get up. "Nope. Where you going," he chides playfully and pulls you down to sit and straddle his comforter-clad lap, pawing his hands down your silky curves before settling them at your hips.

"Babe, c'mon…" you protest, but curl into him regardless, huffing contentedly when he pulls you tight to him.

"We got time, so let me hold you," he murmurs against the side of your head. You sigh and melt into him at that, relishing his warm skin and comforting embrace. While he holds you, you notice your senses are sharpening, and you're feeling a tender cramp in your lower back. But mostly, you're focusing on how ripe you and Javi's scents are, and trying not to feel self-conscious about it. "Hm, you smell so good…"he sighs out as he noses your hair.

"And you smell like pussy," you tell him comically, biting your lip to stifle your laugh when he leans back and gapes at you. "Well, you do, sir—"

"How the hell would you know what pussy smells like anyway?!" he counters crassly, lopsided smirk goading.

"Oh my god, because I have one, you jodón. As if you don't know what dick smells like—?" you jab sardonically.

"Not intimately, no," he remarks puckishly and sniffs himself, causing you to cackle sardonically. "I don't see any issue with how I smell—"

"Hah! You wouldn't, because you're a beyako pervertido," you giggle out, laughing harder when he starts irreverently hugging and nuzzling you in retaliation. "No! C'mon, Javi, I stink too. Stop—!" your bubbly squeal when Javi grabs your ass and suckles a kiss into your neck cuts off your exclamation and causes you to wiggle in his lap – ending up pressing flush over his thick hard-on when the blanket shifts and it juts up between your thighs.

He groans when you undulate to rub yourself against him, and while you thread your fingers in his tousled hair and tug him to meet your lips, Javi's already shifting to guide his cock to nudge up between your soaked folds before pressing into your tight slit. You moan, and he pulls you down onto his lap as he buries himself into your molten heat, grunting hotly against your jaw, "You got me this hard from how good you smell, guapita."

That makes your core flood with arousal and pulse wet want into the clutch of your sheath. "Fuck, you're lying, fresco—" you begin to tease when he bucks you down on him, stealing your breath.

"You know the effect your sexy scent has on me," he growls and watches you lean back and roll your hips at an angle that slams his cock into that cluster of pleasure nestled deep inside you. "S-Shit, do that again, hermosa," he groans gruffly, and your grip on his shoulders tightens as you blush and toss your head back from the next hard roll that has his thick sex punching up into your core. His hands grip your hips and help rock you over his lap while he fucks up into you.

Javi lustfully watches your breasts jiggle through the taut silk of the baby doll from the force of the slams down onto him. He's salivating at how your nipples are jabbing into the fabric while you arch and squeeze your knees around his lap. "Oh—Javi, oh god," you gasp out when he picks up the pace of his fucking up into you after he feels your cunt start to flutter around him. "Ah!" you cry out when he wraps his arms around your waist and starts plunging you down onto him, hitting your pleasure point dead center and plucking a taut tether of hot bliss inside you that is threatening to snap loose. "Oh god, so c-close, mmm, Javi!" you wail, warning him as you feel yourself about to shake apart.

"Feel it, baby. Getting so tight—starting to strangle my cock," he croons in a tight baritone as he plants his feet and starts hammering his thrusts up into you, which makes you see fireworks burst in the backs of your eyes, so you bowl into him, clinging to his shoulders and keening needy whimpers into his skin. "Y-Yeah, c'mon, sweet girl, come for me. Ride my cock—let go, give it to me," he coaxes ardently and nuzzles you when your lower half locks up from the force of your orgasm.

You wail, "Ja-Javi!" into his neck, breath catching and sounding like a sob as you flood over with fuzzy, crackling pleasure. You come all over his cock before your inner walls wring and clamp down on him, mind hazing over with sizzling, blinding ecstasy.

The power of your body demanding for him to bury deep and pump his climax into your trembling core makes him pussy-dumb, completely fuck-drunk as he shudders and moans, holding onto you like you're his lifeline. Molding you possessively to him while he empties his orgasm into your ravenous core. He can't even articulate words. Just hum and grunt unabashed sounds of content satisfaction as he comes down from the whirlwind of bliss he got swept up in. His panting lips are wet from his tongue dampening them when he buries his face in the crook of your neck.

You are tingling, no – vibrating from the force of your orgasm, feeling utterly blissed out and like you're slowly melding into him; becoming one deliriously sated being. It isn't until he let's out a hearty exhale that you stir and realize Javi collapsed to lie backwards on the bed, with you clinging to his torso like you're afraid of floating off. His warm palms are caressing languid circles over your back, nose pressed into the spot just behind your ear to nuzzle your sweaty hairline and sigh contentedly.

"Smell so good…can't get enough," Javi mumbles dazedly, smile obvious after he presses a kiss to the column of your neck and husks, "Makes me feel grounded."

You curl into him and sigh. "Chemistry," you remark dimly, as if more to yourself than to him. "Always great…your scent, your taste, your touch—just…" your stream of fuzzy conscious is grasping at concepts you know, that you read about, but can't articulate properly because you're still glazed over with delight. An intrepid part of you wants to say 'We were made for each other,' but it can't get free from the tangle of your weighty thoughts.

Javi rumbles a pleased, albeit spent sound as he starts petting your mussed hair. "Whatever it is…makes everything feel right. Being like this, having you warm and tierna in my arms. It's all I ever want, mi amor," he tells you in a genuine, honeyed murmur.

You turn your face and dreamily kiss his cheek before mustering the effort of slinking up to stare with open adoration in your gleaming gaze into his handsome features. His brown eyes flare chestnut from the sun's rays coming through the slats of the windows, and the early morning light gives your dewy skin a glow and catches in the twinkle of your eye as you cup his cheek and smile down at him.

"Keep saying things like that, and I might never let you leave this bed, querido," you chime silkily and caress your touch to cup the hinge of his jaw and pull him up to meet your passionate kiss.

It's a great way to start your morning – both smitten and unburdened by insecurities. Javi can't stop smiling. Not while he ushers you into your shared morning shower, not while you both brush your teeth in front of the medicine cabinet mirror – where you stood at the sink and Javi was tucked up behind you, and definitely not while he watches you now. He's pretty much dressed already, having gotten a head start while you blow-dried your hair, so he's able to doddle while he stares at you. You're in a black panty and bra set, standing in front of your mirror while you hold up two blouse options and try to decide which would look best with your eye-catching bronze plaid blazer. He's sitting on the fresh sheet-covered side of the bed while he stares fondly at you, distractedly putting his shoes on and smiling when you catch his gaze in the mirror.

His smirk is infectious, so you give him a flirty look and whirl to hold up the two blouses. "What? Do you have a preference?" you lilt, holding up the black pleated blouse and the Mandarin-collared black blouse for his scrutiny.

Your hair is brushed back, so he gets lost admiring your slender shoulders and the elegant slope of your neck – how delicate the dip of your clavicle and the expanse of your collarbones look. "I think they'll both look equally nice on the floor later tonight," he croons and leans back on his splayed hands, giving you an amused, pouty smirk.

You scoff amusedly and roll your eyes before tossing the pleated blouse to the end of the bed before removing the hanger from the Mandarin-collared one. "You're impossible," you chuckle as you pull on the blouse and grab the black skirt from the dresser. He's smirking wider now, his dimple revealed as he stands and comes up behind you to feign like he's going to just finger comb his hair while standing behind you to look at himself in the mirror. Once finished tucking the blouse into your skirt, you wiggle your derrière at him. "Zip me up, please?"

He licks his lips and pulls the zipper carefully up for you, smoothing out the material of the high-waisted pencil skirt while his dark brewed eyes stare flirtatiously at yours in the mirror's reflection. "This skirt seems stretchy enough for you to be able to hike it up," he offers intriguingly, hands caressing the curve of your hips, before suggestively purring, "Might need to wear it the day you decide to ride me in my office—"

An excited tickle skitters down your body to pulse in your core warmly, but you huff and playfully slap his hands away before grumbling "Javier, that was just a naughty fantasy. You agreed: no messing around at work. No sexy encounters at the embassy, and you said you'd behave and be professional—"

"I said a lot of things," he deadpans, instigating you to glare at him in the mirror. "I meant it all, querida. You can't blame me for wanting to get a rise out of you," Javi chuckles and smiles when you dramatically shake your head at him and go to storm away. He takes the chance and taps your ass as you go, and you squeak before whirling and smacking his light-gray-slacks-wearing ass hard in retaliation. He only betrays a humored grunt from the swat and yanks his blue tie around his shirt collar. "But I do remember telling you I couldn't make any promises during our status reports," he teases as he faces the mirror to finish getting ready while you return the other blouse and empty hanger to the closet before retrieving a pair of patent leather Mary Jane pumps. At your amusedly exasperated huff, he turns to watch you set the shoes next to the blazer you chose while he absently works on his tie.

"Oh, that reminds me. Did Stoddard let you know we had to reschedule the first status report to next week?" you inquire as you saunter over to the dresser to open your jewelry box and rifle through it for a fetching pair of earrings you think will look nice.

He notices the sparkling trove of glimmering, twinkling adornments before flicking his glance up and getting lost admiring your beatific profile sans makeup and focused on looking for the bronzy stud earrings you're rifling for. "Yeah. Meetings are crazy this week, so we had to shift it out," he answers and folds his shirt collar down, giving up on the tie as he watches you press your lips together into a thin line while you hum and keep your gaze focused on the jewelry box's little mirror while you fasten the sunburst-styled studs into your earlobes. His gaze sharpens, reading your attempt at keeping your expression aloof. "Huh. Alright, out with it," he declares in a bass-roughened drawl.

Blinking over at him, you give him a lopsided smirk and raise your delicate brows innocently. "What?" you chirp, and he just gives you 'the look' – his patented cop regard, as he puts his hands on his hips and grunts for you to drop the act. "I didn't even say anything—"

"You didn't have to. I know when you're shoving something under the rug," he counters and quirks a demanding brow at you.

"It's nothing! I just thought how funny it was that both our deputies had different reasons for moving the meeting to next week, is all," you remark simply and grab your brush in order to park in front of the full-length mirror so you can start combing and styling your thick tresses into a neat up-do.

"And? What was Rose's reason for changing it?" he queries as he turns to lean his hip in the dresser while he watches you twist up your hair into a chic chignon.

"That is something that can wait until next week—" you try to obfuscate while you brush the rogue wisps and tendrils to frame your face better.

"Consider this the unofficial status report, then," he debonairly remarks and crosses his arms when you finally turn and put a hand on your hip peevishly. "Well, you said last night my team's doing poorly," he fishes, arching a brow. "C'mon, we can't discuss this stuff during the coffee dates," he rumbles and leans on his pivoted arm casually.

You sigh and relent, putting the brush down on the dresser before you go sit and start putting on your shoes. "Fine, chavón," you snicker once you have one pump on and are fastening the strap around your ankle on the other. "Ellis told me some of your subordinates in the pilot are resistant to the training. It got reported up to him, and he figured it'd be best to have the week to remedy it, and only disclosing it if the issue continued," you tell Javi diplomatically and cross your legs before leaning back on your propped arms. "Hence, why I figured I'd just hold off on telling you until the meeting next week—"

"I want names," he remarks, pushing off the dresser he was leaning on so he can grumpily put his hands on his hips. "That's bullshit and I'm not gonna let anyone on my staff dick around like that. I'll straighten it out—"

You exhale musingly and stand in order to saunter over and wrap your arms around his waist. "Don't start cracking skulls yet, gruñón," you tut wryly and peck him on the lips. "Jackie, the one handling the training, is competent, so I'm sure she'll resolve it. If not, I'll let you know next week," is your neutral musing as you lean into him and give him an affectionate squeeze. "Sound good?"

He huffs a cleansing breath out his nose and nods before smirking as he cups your ass in his large, cheeky hands. "Damn, you're good at this," he purrs, tone velvety as he adds, "Wish you were my boss lady."

"Pfft, I'm pretty sure I was last night, atrevido," you purr and grab his belt, giving it a confident tug, earning an enticed hum from him. "I have five minutes between meetings after 2pm, so…coffee date then?"

"Yeah, I can swing that," he retorts smoothly and squeezes your ass, kissing your cheek before he's caught the time on the alarm clock. "Fuck, I gotta go," he grabs his watch and clasps it onto his left wrist while you hustle to grab his blazer for him and grin when he takes it from you and laces his hand in yours so he can tow you down the hall and to the front door. Once he's shrugged into the blazer and pocketed all his belongings, he can't help the tickle in his breastbone when you sprint to the fridge and return with his packed lunch.

"Lo veo luego, mi patrón," you silkily murmur and give him a sultry look that has arousal flaring hotly in him before you steal a hungry kiss from his lips.

Fuck, Javi internally groans, getting really turned on by the ridiculous term of endearment that's so damned charged with unsavory connotations that it should not rile him up with yearning.

You can sense how wound up with lewd delight he gets from the new pet name, so you're not surprised when the kiss becomes a bit torrid. He rakes his mouth down your neck, letting his moustache tickle your heated skin before he suckles a kiss into your pulse point. "Why must you tease me so fucking good before I leave," he growls and pinches your ass impishly.

Chuckling and slinking away to open the door, you charm, "You can't blame me for loving to get a rise out of you."

The amended smug remark he'd purred at you before pleases him, so he steals one last kiss from your plush lips before murmuring, "I love you, traviesa."

"Love you too, coqueto," you purr and pinch his ass as he saunters out, giggling when he grunts comically and shoots you a faux haughty look over his shoulder before he bounds down the stairs. Once he's striding across the courtyard, you find yourself wistfully admiring his confident swagger until he's out of sight.

Going to finish getting ready, you make short work of primping your makeup before spritzing some perfume to your wrists and dabbing them daintily at the sides of your neck before slinking your plaid blazer on. You're halfway done grabbing all your things to bound towards the door when your house phone rings. Checking your watch, you decide you can spare the time to go answer it. "Hello?"

"Ah! I knew the area code on the caller ID meant you'd been the one to call," the lilting voice remarked before chirping, "It's Irina! I hope it's not too early to have called back—"

"No, not at all. I was just heading out to the embassy. How've you been?" you remark and set your purse and tote down, remembering you almost forgot to grab your lunch out of the fridge.

"Well…not very good. I just got back from a trip visiting my father. I won't bore you with the details," she answers and remarks, "I take it Sasha let you know he's going to be down in Colombia?"

"Yes. Actually, when I got his voicemail, that's why I'd called you. I had a feeling something might be going on. I assume you tried to get him to join you on the visit?" you ask, starting to piece together some things already as you absently note that your fridge is bare now save for the ingredients needed for the lasagna you'd promised Ellis.

"Exactly. We had a big fight over it, and you know how he is. Anyway, I don't want to hold you up! Maybe you can make my brother give me a call when you're with him?" she suggests musingly, and you can hear the tension in his voice.

"Absolutely. Talk soon, Irina."

Once you've hung up, you collect your things and head out. Then entire drive to the embassy, you can't help wonder whether something new was percolating between Sasha and his father, and what could've made Irina visit the man. Of course, the ruminating over the Ivanov siblings' precarious relationship with their own patriarch prompted your mind to wander to your own tumultuous estrangement from your father. It'd been a long time since you'd spoken to him, and you had no plans on changing that any time soon, so before that small part of you could linger on whether you could ever reconcile with him, you shoved it all away and focused on getting to work.

While you entered your first meeting of the day, Javi was pacing his office, listening to Stoddard update him with the latest whilst he glanced through his itinerary for the day. When he paused in his pacing to toss the itinerary onto his desk before leaning to sit at the edge of it, Stoddard added in a whisper, "I was also informed there would be another tape reel coming for analysis by the afternoon, boss."

"Good," Javier remarks before crossing his arms and looking at the man sternly. "I've been wondering. How're the resources doing in the pilot program with IT+IS? I know you moved the meeting to next week, but I don't want to get caught unawares by the director. Anything I should be aware of?" he inquires with an earnest tone, quirking a questioning brow when Stoddard seems to hesitate. "Well?"

Clearing his throat, his deputy parcels out, "Actually, I did hear from some of the resources. They're questioning the merits of having to be part of the training, and I believe Kirkpatrick complained about it—"

"I want to know everyone who's pushing back on that training, and I expect them to get with the program, unless they really want to piss me off," he cuts in authoritatively and pushes off his desk to stalk around to sit in his chair. "I heard they got their funding, so that means they're not gonna remain a small intrepid little department the rest can blow off. The last thing I need is for the director to go to the ambassador over this," he mutters, tone no-nonsense.

"Understood, sir. I'll get the names for you, and give them a verbal warning," Stoddard dutifully retorts and excuses himself to do just that.

It wasn't cracking skulls, so Javi figured he'd gotten away with flexing his boss muscles without vexing you too much. When lunchtime rolls around, he heats up the meal you packed for him and catches some of the fellas in the break room covertly savoring the aroma before he returns with the container to his desk. Once he sits back down, he sees a list of four names scribbled in Stoddard's penmanship on a small notepad, next to his phone. Smirking, he eyes the offending resources as he eats, making a mental note to glare them down during the next staff meeting. Hurrying to finish his lunch so he can hustle to his next meeting, Javi begrudgingly pauses at his desk when the phone rings.

Once he's answered it and confirmed with the provisioner the added items he'd submitted for his apartment, he hangs up and goes to meet with Mil Group.

You're getting out a meeting an hour later with Ellis, trying to ignore the dull cramps in your lower back. To your chagrin, you'd gone to the restroom earlier in the workday and realized your period had arrived early. Ugh, should've known, you'd grumpily thought to yourself. It explained your heightened sense of smell, and the achy tenderness that radiates in your muscles. Thankfully, though, your time of the month didn't arrive in the middle of this morning's romp with Javi. The idle thought stirs you to remember the time you'd gotten your period during sex with a very cute guy at a party, and you can't suppress the cringe that tremors through you. Thank god that didn't happen with him, you think in relief.

As you walk down the corridors to get to the stairwell shortcut you both take to get to your department, Ellis uses the alone time to needle you with a whispered, "So…did you realize that you're gonna have your date at the premiere and Fran is going to see who it is?"

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you hum, having not given it much thought prior. It disarms you. After all, the idea of anyone knowing about you and Javi just a year ago would've sent you into an anxious panic, but now? It only gives you a bit of pause. "Well, he said he'd make it, but we both know that could change on a dime, with everything that's going on," you answer musingly as you both lope down the steps. "I guess I didn't give it much thought because I'm not really concerned about it."

Ellis grunts, intrigued. "So, safe to say, you two are getting serious? I mean, enough for going public not being an issue?" he asks, curious.

You weigh that, and once you're close to your department's entrance, you gesture for him to follow you into your office for the answer. After he shuts the door, you park yourself onto the sofa while he spins a chair around and sits so he's straddling it and draping his arms over the back.

"He suggested we go to Crosby and disclose our relationship," you confide, crossing your legs and leaning sidelong into the armrest when he leans back and gapes at you. "Yeah…I don't know about that yet. Think it might be the wrong thing to do while he's in the middle of this Cali cartel stuff. But…I could see it being an option after – once that investigation is over and there isn't a huge politically detrimental worry dangling over him constantly," pensively, you murmur.

"Devil's Advocate?" Ellis suggests, and you nod for him to continue. "His job is never going to be that way, kid. As long as there's a cartel or some syndicate for him to go after, there's always going to be political jockeying and pressure, especially here," he remarks, adding, "Would you want to be in limbo indefinitely like that?"

You frown, deflating as you lean back into the couch. "I…I don't know. I guess it's stupid of me to have thought about it so simply—"

"No, I didn't mean it like that," Ellis interjects. "I only mean…why wait? If he wants to make it official, why not go for it?"

Pressing your lips together until they flatten out, you furrow your brow as you contemplate. "Because there's no going back after that," you blurt out, and the answer takes you aback.

Seeing how conflicted you are, Ellis gives you a commiserating look and pats your hand. "Nothing you have to decide right now, girlie. Just think about it some more."

Nodding, you can't help feel guilty. It lingers with you through your next meeting, and when you see it's almost 2pm, you find yourself shoving the indecision away to instead look forward to the right now of things.

Javier's been looking forward to this little break all day.

Really, since the moment you proposed it all flirtatiously this morning. Trusty mug in hand, he enters the workspace of your department and notices the intern cubicle is empty while most of the other desks aren't occupied. Humming to himself, he makes his way to the tucked away coffee corner, and as he nears, he picks up your jovial conversation with a familiar voice.

"—I promise, it's a really good novel. It's not a chick book."

"Hah, well fine, I'll pick it up, but I doubt we'll have time to discuss it like before."

Turning the corner, Javi sees you and Ed from Centra Spike amiably standing across from each other while sipping from your mugs and chatting away. The reserved man spots him first and looks tense – like he got caught doing something he's not supposed to.

"Let me guess: Nador and Benson told you about the coffee?" Javi can't help goad as he strides over.

You smile while Ed stammers, "Nope! Actually, they found out from me—"

"What's with the territoriality? It's a coffee machine," you chuckle and assure, "But yeah, Ed was the first to have a cup when I set up the department."

"Guess I'm just late to the party, then," Javi jokes, smirking when you pick up the carafe and wave him over so you can fill his mug.

"Shit, speaking of late," Ed winces when he looks at his watch and frowns at you. "I'll pick up that book, but if it's super mushy—"

"It's not, I swear," you scoff and wave him off as he gestures his thanks for the coffee and nods his goodbye to Javi.

"What book?" Javi can't help ask once you're both alone before sipping the delicious brew, soulful eyes crinkling affectionately at you.

"La casa de los espíritus," you tell him and lean back against the counter.

"Didn't they make a movie out of that?" he queries and smiles when you scoff in disdain.

"They made a horrible movie out of it. Absolutely atrocious," you insist and brush a strand of hair behind your ear, smirking at his amused little squint. "What? What's that look?" you ask him in Spanish.

Javi takes a long sip of his coffee before grunting and slipping his free hand casually in his slack's pocket. "Nothing. Just admiring how cute you are when you're appalled about something," he tells you in an aloof murmur. You scoff by clucking your tongue at him before sardonically shaking your head and sipping your coffee. Glancing around, Javi makes sure to murmur, "So, the provisioner called. They stocked my place today. Would you want to come over tonight?"

You submerge your smile by taking a sip from your glazed mug before nodding curtly. "Save for the lasagna ingredients, my fridge is pretty bare, thanks to this insatiable man who's been coming over…" you can't help razz, savoring how Javi narrows his eyes provocatively at you.

Thumbing his moustache to hide the beaming smile that wants to curl his lips from picturing you in your sexiest nighty later tonight, he clears his throat and adds, "I'll clean up, make dinner—"

"Have my slippers and robe ready too?" you tease, poking fun at the reversed gender roles and biting your bottom lip when he wrinkles his nose derisively at you. "I have to get stuff after work, so I'll be over probably after the last of rush hour," you tell him, smile serene as you see his shoulders broaden out with pride, dark eyes molten with want for you. It sends excitement into your tender core and overheats your already warm skin.

Javi is dying to kiss you. He wants to just plop his mug down on the counter and dip you in his arms so he can claim your mouth with his own – to feel you curl into him and kiss him back with gusto. But instead, he reluctantly checks his watch and his expression sobers.

"Well, thanks for the coffee. Don't think I could get through the day without it," he rumbles evenly before giving you a wink and adding as he starts loping out, "Enjoy the rest of your afternoon, director."

"You as well, sir," you smile and tingle with desire for him, watching your dashing lover's shoulders roll back at the 'sir' as he walks away.

It's ridiculous how much you love to rile him up, and while you'll never admit it, you enjoy it when he mischievously tries to get a rise out of you. You're smugly thinking about it while you walk back to your office, and only when you sit at your desk and feel the dull throb in your lower back do you grimace and realize an annoying concern.

Said concern bugs you more as you go home to pack, and when you run errands before heading over to Javier's apartment building. Then, a defiant part of you snickers, Well this'll be a good test of whether Javi truly is ready to share his space with a woman; challenge him to deal with the unsexy side of things.

By the time you're entering the code to the garage, you're feeling less insecure and more impish, keen on seeing what things will be like when you're on Javi's turf. Driving down the ramp and steering your hatchback to park next to his Ford Explorer, you take a calming breath before collecting your things and heading to the elevator.

Javi's rushing to clean his place while sans his blazer and tie – annoyed with the clutter. He's hustling to clear his ashtray, wipe down the counter, tidy up his files on the coffee table, and stock the bathroom rack with fresh, clean towels. So, when he dimly glances about his bedroom and remembers the different piles of clothes, he swears to himself. Just when he grabs the bundle of the most offensive 'must-do' laundry and rushes to the hidden stackable washer-dryer tucked into a closet with louvered doors off from the kitchen, there's a knock on his door. He hurriedly shoves the laundry into the washer and closes the louvered doors before huffing and striding over to the door.

"You didn't have to knock, you know. I gave you a key," he husks glibly when he opens the door and sees you standing there amusedly with your things. "Come in," Javi steps aside and lets you breeze by, trying to hide his intrigue at the duffle bag in one hand and the large shopping bag in the other as you saunter in.

"Well, I didn't want to just come in and catch you unawares," you jibe as you set your purse on the chair and the other things down in order to turn into his waiting embrace. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you kiss Javier a little unchastely, humming into his mouth when his tongue twirls along yours before you cheekily break the kiss to nuzzle his open collar. "Not to mention burst in when you're not used to someone having a key," is your wry purr.

"Uh-huh," he grunts amusedly and eyes the big shopping bag. "I was just tidying up a little. Haven't started dinner yet," he remarks and gestures with a tip of his head. "What's in the bag?"

Smiling, you flounce over and grab the bag while he chivalrously takes your duffle, bringing it into the bedroom while you follow. "Just some essentials I stopped at the store to pick up," you chime affably as he places the duffle on the bed and you plop the bag next to it before digging into it and producing an array of items. Javi catalogues the soap, shampoo and conditioner, hairbrush and comb, bottle of lotion, and several other necessary toiletries. He's looking at the makeup compacts and tubes when you suddenly pull out a box of tampons and innocently place it on the bed. "I know it's a lot of stuff, but I'll keep it from becoming a clutter," is your musing chime as you turn and primly wait for his reaction.

Javi doesn't bat an eye, and to your surprise, picks up the bulk of the toiletries, including the box of tampons, and takes them into the bathroom for you. "I already made some room on the vanity," he tells you in an easygoing baritone as he plucks the toothbrush in the ceramic holder next to his before aligning some items on the vanity and placing others in the medicine cabinets or shower shelf. And when he gets to the tampon box? He retrieves a ceramic cylindrical receptacle from the bottom sink cabinet and dutifully opens the box, fishes several tampons out, and organizes them neatly into the receptacle that he then places onto the back of the toilet. Setting the box in the cabinet, Javi turns and catches your stare, smirking as he remarks, "I cleared the top drawer out in the dresser, but still need to shuffle some things in the closet."

It's undeniable now: After his domestically unruffled and confident display? You decide that it's official – that Javier Peña has captured your heart forever.

He can tell whatever trepidation that was buzzing in you had been snuffed out, so he affectionately caresses your lower back as he saunters by and goes to toss himself sidelong onto the bed, bouncing his eyebrows at you before tilting his head to the duffle. "Need me to help you unpack?" he rumbles unabashedly.

Coquettishly pursing your lips, you strut over and unzip the bag. "I can manage, but I might need a few hangers," you offer, feeling relaxed as you unpack and start separating drawer-worthy items from the blouses and sets that need to be hung in the closet.

Javi watches contently as you place clothes into the drawer while you talk, and his eyes crinkle affectionately when you set the duffle and large shopping bag out of the way. He watches you shed your blazer, remove your sunburst earrings and set them atop the dresser before you let your hair down and shake it loose, then sit on the bed to unfasten your Mary Jane pumps. Just in your skirt and blouse now, you saunter across the bed in order to slink up to him and drape over his torso.

Cuddling him, you sigh. "Babe, it's freezing in here."

He chuckles. "I'll lower the thermostat," is his croon, rubbing his palms up and down your back while you nuzzle kisses into his neck. "Gonna have to get used to the nice air-conditioned lifestyle, bravita," he playfully rumbles, to which you grunt dryly and sit up to kiss his sideburn before giving him a smug stare. "Anything you need, just ask. I want you to be comfortable, querida," Javi murmurs before leaning up to kiss you sweetly on the lips.

"Be careful what you wish for, guapito," you tease and caress your fingertips along the contour of his temple before combing them into his hair daintily. "And, remember what I said: if you ever need your space, just let me know."

Javi fondles his hand down the curve of your waist before resting it on your derrière. "Why do I get the feeling you have very low expectations for my ability to live with someone?" he jokes drily and gives your ass a musing pat.

"Hah, maybe because you've never lived with anyone else?" you counter sarcastically and snicker when he gives you a faux peevish look.

"Well, I had roommates in college—"

"Alright, I'll amend: you've never lived with a woman before—"

"So you don't count all the times I've shacked up at your place as living with a woman?" he poses, smirking as you roll your eyes at his purposely contrarian goading.

"But that was my space, so it's different," you counter humorously, biting your lip sardonically when he rolls to have you lying across the bed while he frames your shoulders with his arms and noses your hairline. "Even the lowest maintenance woman is high maintenance to a man," you parry, "I just don't want to cramp your style—"

"Have you really had assholes act like fucking brats about you living with them?" Javi suddenly asks and leans up, unselfconscious in his query and gazing musingly at you.

You press your lips together and arch your brows – surprised he would ask something that could possibly instigate his surliness to come out. "Yes," you answer simply and rest your hands at his sides. Your mind flashes to the last relationship where you'd lived at his place, and how toxic it'd been. "Hence why I'm mindful—"

"Preciosa," he interrupts and you realize your gaze had gone unfocused – faraway, so you blink and stare up into his warm, coffee-brewed pools. "I might be a complete fuckup sometimes, but this is not something you need to worry about. I want you here. You belong here, with me," he tells you in the most confident, unfettered way. "I promise, there's nothing you could do to 'cramp my style' or make me feel otherwise."

Your heart pulses with a delightfully fuzzy feeling and your happiness skitters into your womb, stirring butterflies of joy to flutter there. Cupping Javi's cheek, your eyes soften affectionately. "You're not a fuckup," you huff airily and pull him close so you can kiss him sultrily on the lips. You curl into him when he deepens the kiss, inundated by his delectable scent and the heat of his skin as you wrap your hands behind his neck.

Javi can feel you unspool, all concerns and anxieties shed, leaving you like a rich bolt of silk that he wants to drape himself in. He encircles you in his strong arms and holds you to him as you just kiss and snuggle on his bed. The urge to claim you with his talented fingers and his hungry mouth has to be quelled, especially when you whimper into his neck when he grinds his clothed hard-on against your womb. He can feel how tender you are – how warm your skin is, how delicate and sensitive you are in your fidgeting reactions. It's surprising to him, but Javier realizes you were right this morning.

"Chemistry…"

He pulls back to nuzzle gentle kisses into your neck, hands rubbing tenderly into your back while he relishes your heady, spiced scent.

"So…do you like stir fry?"

You giggle and lightly shove him back. "Well, sir…I actually love stir fry," you purr and exclaim a silly sound that turns into peels of laughter after Javi retaliates by tickling you. Managing to squirm away and flounce out of his reach by scampering to the foot of the bed, you give him a dazzling smile and wiggle your foot at him. "Tengo hambre, mi patrón," is your goading singsong. He scoffs a surly rumble and covertly adjusts himself in his trousers before getting up from the bed.

"Que atrevida traviesa eres," he chuckles and smirks when you hold your hands out in unspoken petition for him to pull you up, so, he does, and he keeps hold of one hand while he leads the way to the kitchen. When Javi parks you onto a stool in front of the kitchen counter, he remarks, "I'm not much of a cook, but I learned to make stir fry from my college roommate sophomore year. It was fairly easy and cheap. We'd get decent cuts of steak and frozen vegetables," he pauses from the open fridge he'd just stopped leaning into to grab the needed ingredients when he frowns and turns. "Shit, I forgot to mention, it's just gonna be the stir fry, since I can't make rice."

You playfully gasp. "What? You don't know how to make rice?" you feign a scandalized faint, and he just shakes his head at you. "Babe, how in the world do you not know how to make rice?!"

He shrugs. "We'd use a rice cooker," Javi retorts. "Whenever I've tried to make rice in a pot, it comes out all lumpy—"

"Amogolla'o," you correct and give him a lopsided smile, as you get off the stool and pad barefoot into his kitchen to start looking in the cupboards for a rice pot. "I'll teach you. You just need to learn the trick," you chime as you retrieve the caldero and set it on the stove.

Javi admires you, soulful chocolate eyes crinkling when you turn and bat your lashes at him. "All right, show me," he rumbles charmingly and reaches into the cabinet that has the bag of rice. "I'll start on the stir fry once the rice is going."

Smirking, you go to work showing him the right way to measure out the rice, how to rinse the long grains and draining the cloudy water from the bowl without losing a single grain. What has him humming in surprise is seeing how you dribble some cooking oil into the pot once it's on the burner, coating the surface generously before dumping the rice in. Then, you show him your trick for knowing whether there's too much water in the pot.

"—You rest the spoon over the rice, and if there's a little water sitting in the spoon and it doesn't sink all the way? Then that's enough water, and the rice shouldn't come out lumpy," you're finishing your affable instruction when you glance up at him and catch him staring fondly at you. Heat fans up to radiate in the apples of your cheeks as you elbow him and derisively scoff, "Well? Did you get any of that, malcriado?"

He grunts and gives you a rugged smile. "Yep. All of it, mi directora," he teases and leans his hip into the counter next to the stove. "Although, I might bug you to show me again sometime," he taunts and shoots you a wily smirk when you put your hands on your hips and give him a sharp, faux-admonishing look. "Ok, my turn," he declares as he gestures for you to go into the fridge for him while he retrieves the large pan and some ingredients from the spice cabinet. "Grab the flank steak, the peppers and the rest of the veggies that are in that drawer for me?" is his instruction.

You merrily do so, and when you're fishing everything out of the fridge, you can't help notice the assortment of fresh fruits – all of which are your favorite – and some other items you suspiciously wonder if he'd added to the provision list just for you. It makes you smile serenely and want to shower him with yearning kisses. Instead, though, you dutifully put all the ingredients on the counter and snicker when he shoos you to go back and sit on the stool in order to watch him cook.

Javi makes short work of chopping vegetables before setting them to sizzle in the oiled pan, and then trims the steak into thin strips he quickly seasons before tossing into the pan. You watch him, riveted and frankly very proud. You don't know why domestic moments starring Javi turns you into melted, lustful putty for him, but you can't much care as your stomach flips and desire coils in your chest. Soon enough, Javi stirs the rice and listens to your instructions on how to best do so before both dishes are ready and he easily plates. Whipping up some drinks for you both, you carry both for him while he places the dinner servings at the small dining table next to the kitchen.

The first bite is delightful, making you hum and affectionately skim your foot along his ankle underneath the table. "Delicious," you tell him and enjoy seeing his dark brewed eyes gleam with pride. "This is going to be such a great lunch tomorrow."

He smiles. "I'm glad you like it," Javier retorts in a velvety tone. "So, I was curious. Most of your department was empty when I went down for coffee. Part of the training program?"

"Oh, Ellis had a tutorial for most of 'em today regarding the new system we've got coming from New York next week. I'll manage the tutorial for the rest of the staff tomorrow," you explain and daintily clean your plate of the last few pieces of broccoli, steak and rice. "That reminds me. Nador mentioned some big meeting happening on Friday? He said DEA is going to get chastised," you pipe up and watch Javier roll his eyes as he sits back and drinks from his glass of whiskey. "Are they really going to give you shit about the raid?"

With an acerbic sigh, Javi sets the glass down on the table and cocks his head to the side. "Probably. But, I'm used to it," he grumbles and shrugs. "Crosby was salty about it, but really, anyone siding with that farce of a surrender deal is DOA with the public, so I doubt they'll have much to gripe about." You nod and sip your drink, looking pensive, so he decides to change the subject. "So, you mentioned something about lasagna earlier?" is his instigating purr that has your eyes narrowing wryly.

"Yep, for Ellis," you emphasize and stand to collect his empty dish along with your own. "He said he's been craving it for a while, so as a thank you for putting up with me this past weekend, I said I'd make him one. Most likely Saturday," you remark and snicker when Javi follows you to the kitchen to hip check you from washing dishes so he can take that spot in front of the sink. "Javi, let me clean—"

"Nope. You can stow the leftovers. I like how you pack the lunches," he tells you glibly, so you relent and do so, amused. "…So only Ellis gets to have lasagna?"

You laugh, "I'll make one for you too, you caripela'o."

Javi snorts, glancing over at you while he washes to watch you pack everything away in lunch containers. "You know, all those Puerto Rican-isms are just nonsense to me," he can't help goad. "I don't get dropping a letter and drawling into the last vowel."

You gasp, as if appalled, and shake your head at him. "For shame. You know the words, though," you remark, squinting when he nods. "So? They're not nonsense—"

"But they're not the proper word," he counters, needling you with a smug quirk of his brow.

"Ah, you sinvergüenza," you scoff and put all the containers away in the fridge in order to advance on him and give him an irreverent squeeze around his waist. "You say anything like that in Puerto Rico, and they'll run you off the island," you playfully growl and rest your forehead against his back.

He chuckles heartily at that and sets the last item aside to dry on the dish rack before cheekily leaning back into you. The surprised squeal you let out has him laughing as he maneuvers you around so he can recline against the counter and encircle your waist. You grunt and nuzzle your face into his chest, sighing when he rubs the back of your neck and kisses the top of your head. "Wanna curl up on the couch for a bit?" he suggests, and you give a nod before leaning back and kissing his jaw.

After adjusting the thermostat for you, he leads you to the sofa, where you both snuggle up and watch the nightly news via the TV in the entertainment system tucked against the far wall. The couch is plush and large enough to easily accommodate Javi to stretch out lengthwise with you folded back into him, allowing his furnace-like body heat to ward the chill of the room away. His hand rests over your hip, idly caressing back and forth while your arms rest folded around the throw pillow, perching your head up whilst Javi reclines his on the padded armrest. During the commercials, he nuzzles teasing kisses behind your ear and along your neck, which stokes arousal to simmer in your belly and tingle lower.

During a particularly long break, you nimbly slip your hand around and behind yourself to rub the stiff bulge you feel pressing up against the curve of your ass. The ridge of his hard-on twitches against your palm while Javi groans and clutches your waist. You turn your countenance to stare seductively at him, and just as you pivot your hips to maneuver so you can press up against him and work the belt looped around his trousers open while his hand yanks your blouse loose from your skirt so he can slip a warm palm up to cup your breast, a bulletin for the next story flashes across the screen.

"—Sources at the National Police believe cartel violence is imminent after the daring capture and arrest of Gilberto Rodriguez Orejuela, but when pressed for details, they would only tell this reporter that any possible turmoil would be the fault of the U.S. and it's agencies who've seen fit to meddle in Colombian affairs – specifically la DEA—" the reporter is starting to expound, and the way Javi's gaze flints up and gets faraway while he listens to the recriminating charges has you authoritatively taking the remote from the coffee table and shutting the TV off.

Snapping his gaze back to you, he sees your bright, warm gaze soften as you sit up enough to kiss him on the lips before musing, "I'm gonna take a head-start on getting ready for bed. Come join me in the shower in a few minutes?"

Javier feels something broaden in his chest, effervescently fluttering up into his throat where he can only manage a grunt, nodding before you smile and kiss his forehead once you've sat up on the sofa. He watches you strut down the hall towards the bedroom, and he can't help lie back flat on the couch and stare up at the ceiling. That pit that had begun to open in his stomach was seared shut from your disarming grace, but he couldn't deny why it was there to begin with. He knew the shitstorm was coming his way, and there was little he could do to stop it. I have to find fucking Jurado and get him to flip, or else things are going to get so much worse…

As the warm water cascades down your back, you try not to fret, keen on keeping a stiff upper lip for him – in being his rock. Hair up in a messy bun now so you don't get it wet from the shower, you focus on rinsing between your thighs and making sure you're not making a literal bloody mess. Thankfully, the birth control pills have helped lessen the flow of your cycle, but it would still be a mortifying prospect to be spotting in front of Javi while you're at your most vulnerable.

The anxious worry is plaguing you when you hear him come into the bathroom before he enters the shower with you. Despite the uneasiness you feel, you smile when he encircles you from behind and plants a kiss on your shoulder.

"Hm, while I like your soap, I kind of developed a thing for smelling my soap on you," he murmurs against your temple once he reaches for said bar and starts lathering it up. "Guess it goes to that chemistry thing," he chuckles when you set your soap aside and take his from his grip before turning to gaze alluringly up at him through your lashes as you start massaging your lathered hands over his chest.

"Or to you being a possessive macho type," you tease, soaping up his sides and working your way down. He scoffs at the notion, and you raise a smug brow. "You don't think it has something to do with the thought of others smelling your scent on me?" is your charismatic query as your hands skim down his hips, venturing lower.

He groans when your soapy digits take his hard length in hand and concentrates on keeping his own clenched at his sides. "M-Maybe," he relents on a stuttered breath, so you smile victoriously and hold up the bar of soap to him while your other hand keeps lusciously stroking him. Snatching it and trying to remember not to fist it, he pants and watches your hand rub his cock, gaze greedily roving over your soaked skin, the way your perky tits jiggle from your ministrations, how good your mound looks dripping the water that's cascaded down from your shoulders. He takes your wrist and growls, "Naughty girl. You got all nice and clean just to get me to do dirty things to you."

Your tender core pulses at that and your cunt wrings around nothing while you hiccup prettily, "N-Not true," pausing when he pulls you close and licks the drop of water that had been clinging to your earlobe. His cock skims the inseam of your thigh, and you let out a shaky breath. "I'll be good, I promise," you murmur airily, feeling wound up and aroused, but reluctant on teasing him further since sex isn't an option. "Let me wash your back?" is your offer, eyes softening when you finally notice how Javi's looking at you.

He nods and maneuvers around so he's facing the showerhead while you take the soap and start massaging it along his back. As you do so, Javi veers back to the previous topic, murmuring puckishly, "I just like smelling me on you. I don't care whether others know or not."

You impishly loop your arms around his torso so you can lean into his slick and soapy back. "So you wouldn't get a sense of satisfaction if Ellis called me out for smelling like Irish Spring?" is your taunting lilt, smiling when Javier chuckles as if intrigued by the idea.

"Only one way to find out," he muses and takes the soap from you before turning and going quickly to town soaping himself up before lathering up his hands. Javier's then turning you so he can lather up your back, working his touch from your nape down to the backs of your thighs before gliding to your front and lathering up.

You bite your lip and clench your thighs, worried that your slick could seep crimson, or worse. "Mmm, we should test that theory out another time," you drawl on a tremulous tone when Javi sets the soap in the dish so he can trail his hands up to cup your breasts while he rubs up against you from behind.

"I know you're tender, baby. Just wanna make you feel good," he purrs against the shell of your ear when he grinds his cock to skim along the slick and warm valley between your thighs. "We can get off just like this. Promise," his voice is melted gravel as he husks and kisses the spot under your ear when you let out a needy whimper and rock against him, nestling his erection tightly against your crotch. "Yeah, just like that. Warm my cock, hermosa," he coos as one hand moves from your breast to glide down your taut torso to press his fingertips over your swollen clit.

You jolt in his embrace and moan, hands gripping his wet side and the back of his neck as you arch and rut back on his cock while he quickly works you into a carnal tizzy with his touch. The way you're rubbing your ass against his groin and tightening the clench of your thighs around his straining hard-on has his desire coiling up in his gut. But it's when you keen a desperate, "Oh please, Javi!" after he plucks and pinches your nipple in time with his fingers grinding ruinously over your clit that propels him to being on the very edge of bliss right there with you. So when you cry out in pleasure against his jaw and clench your thighs shut, Javi tenses and presses his fingers flush against your pulsing bundle – shoving you both simultaneous off the cliff into blissful climaxes.

His cock gets drenched with your slickened orgasm while your thighs get coated in his thick pearly cum. It feels so good that you forget about your trepidation of before and instead cling to him, relishing how he wraps you up in his arms and buries his sated grunt into your nape.

When you both recover from the high of climaxing together, Javi cleans you off, and mercifully you don't see any blood swirling the drain. He can tell your unease is coming back, so he kisses your cheek and murmurs, "You know that wouldn't bother me, right?"

You sigh tersely and rest your forehead to his. "I mean – it's more about me being embarrassed. It's nothing you've made me feel, querido," you assure.

He grunts, understanding, and gives you a peck on the lips before shifting to exit the shower. "I get it. Take your time, cariño," is his warm grouse as he grabs his towel and dries off.

You beam, feeling alight and unburdened by any insecurity, smiling when he wraps the towel around his trim waist and winks at you before heading out to the bedroom.

Javier has ulterior motives, though. He is rushing to chuck the other piles of laundry out of obvious view into the corner of the room adjacent the wall with the windows, grumbling at himself as he picks up the suits he'd piled onto the ottoman and shoves them into the corner as well. Appeased, he then makes room in his closet to provide an expanse of clothes rack space that can be all yours. He's itching for a cigarette, but pops a mint in his mouth instead, chewing it vigorously as he sheds his towel in favor for a pair of blue pajama trousers he loosely ties off. The sound of the shower cutting off motivates him to turn down the bed, fluff the pillows and adjust the thermostat in the bedroom so it isn't so cold. Sitting on the bed, he sets the alarm clock for the morning while he fantasizes about you strutting in any minute in that nighty he loves – the one with the slit up the thigh.

After a few minutes pass, he hears you shuffling into the bedroom. He turns and balks, comical surprise crinkling his handsome features.

Instead of the nighty, you're wrapped up in a big fluffy cream-colored robe with matching house slippers – hair still up in a messy bun and features dewy and glowing from the skincare you'd slathered over your countenance and neck – and bottle of lotion in your hand.

Amused, he laconically grunts and just sits back to take you in. You shuffle closer and give him an angelic pout, adoring gaze admiring his broad, nude torso, warm olive tan skin glowing under the lamplight, begging to be worshipped like the sun god he is. "What?"

"Nothing," he says, but his full lips are struggling to keep from grinning at you derisively. "You wearing anything under that robe?" is his flirty purr.

"You'll find out, fresco," you chuckle and admire the subtle difference in the room, noticing the closet is open. "Oh, while I'm hanging stuff up, I can peruse your wardrobe for something to wear on Monday night for the premiere," you chime vivaciously as you set the lotion down on the dresser to shuffle over to do just that.

"I really doubt I have anything nice enough," he tells you as he leans sidelong and admires you skimming your nimble fingers from hung up item to item. "Just grab any free hangers and start putting your stuff up."

You smile and go to do just that, when something catches your eye and you snort. "Oh my god," you scathe as you reach in and pull out the white, short-sleeved button shirt with garish black design that look like an epileptic pattern maker stamped haphazardly all over during an attack. Holding up the offending print shirt, you inquire tauntingly, "What on earth is this?"

Javier scrunches his features in faux outrage. "That is a very stylish shirt, I'll have you know," he parries and props himself up on his elbow. "I got raving compliments every time I wore it—"

"From raving lunatics, you mean?" you banter, grinning at his grimacing expression of haughtiness while quipping, "I know you have the same shirt in every color and print known to man, but this? I just cannot abide it, galán."

"Fine. I'll only wear it whenever I want to annoy the hell out of you," he retorts glibly and bounds off the bed to pilfer the shirt from your grip, but you agilely yank it behind yourself and bite your lip precociously when he clucks his tongue and drawls, "Seriously? You know I can toss you over my shoulder and take it from you—"

"Just answer me one thing: You wore this around other people and they didn't laugh or just shake their heads in horror—eeek!" Your taunting jibe becomes a squeal of mirth as Javi picks you up effortlessly, plucks the shirt from your hand, and tosses you onto the bed.

"Last time I wore it was with Steve and Carrillo, and they weren't the snappiest dressers either, atrevida," he jokes as he stows the offending garment to the back of the closet and starts dutifully hanging up your suit sets and delicate blouses while you giggle and kick off your fuzzy slippers.

He's doing a great job smoothening out the pieces before setting them on the hangers, so you're content to watch him tend to your things before he moves on to the few pairs of shoes you'd brought, including your pumps. Once they're aligned on the bottom shelf of the closet, you sit up on your knees and beckon him over. "You're a saint for putting up with me, you know that?" you murmur genuinely after you loop your arms around his bare shoulders and brush your lips tenderly against his.

"Quit being silly, corazón," he grouses and caresses your curves. "We're both saints for putting up with each other," he quips wryly, earning a melodious laugh and affectionate squeeze from you.

"Touché," you tut sultrily and kiss him before prowling off the bed to retrieve the bottle of lotion, setting it on the side of the bed you're designating yours before disrobing and draping it onto the ottoman. Preening, you pose in your super old and worn Grateful Dead tour shirt – skeleton with red rose flower crown looking crackly from years of wear – letting it hang askew to show a tease of shoulder as you pose gloatingly for him. Sardonically, you chirp, "To your liking, mi amor?"

Climbing into bed and giving you a smug, appraising once over, Javi deadpans, "And you were giving me shit over a shirt?"

"Yes. Difference is, I only wear this to sleep. You wore that out in civilized society," you razz right back as you slink into bed, depositing some lotion into your hands once you've gotten comfy, and slathering your legs and arms with the luscious cream. Javi gives a cocky grunt at that and eyes you derisively, so you primly smile and stretch out a leg as you lotion it up.

"How high were you while at that concert?" he jokes as he leans sideways on his propped arm, gazing cheekily at you.

"Oh, I probably was the only sober person at that festival," you chuckle as you shuffle close and gesture for him to sit up so you can lotion his shoulders and back for him. When he grunts humorously and acquiesces, you add, "The idea of being out of control was never appealing, hence skipping drugs and just partaking in the occasional drink. You don't even wanna know the kind of crazy shit that happens when a chick is coked up or strung out at a show."

He frowns, not liking the sound of that. "Anything ever happen?" he asks tentatively, not wanting to trigger you in case the worst he's thinking is possible.

"No. At least nothing I saw. I heard stories, though," you retort, hands working over a knot in his lower back. Javi groans in relief, but keeps his attention perked on you continuing musingly, "Being the one to decline the party favors or duck out when it was getting too rowdy saved me any trouble. And concerts were mostly benign. It was backstage that things could get sketchy," you tell him, concentrating on massaging a kink below his shoulder blades and enjoying the little grunts and relaxed hums your touch ease out of him. "I had to dodge many a grabby dude, but luckily, nothing dangerous happened to me," is your remark, and when he grunts neutrally while you knead his shoulders before working down to his deltoids, you find yourself volunteering, "Really the only places I felt unsafe were Studio54 and in the club scene back home in PR."

His alarms go up at that. "…Why?" he asks, glancing over his shoulder at you.

Pensively, you nip at your bottom lip and flick your gaze to his back, focusing there instead of the incandescently worried look in his dark eyes. "Well, Studio54 was fun for a while, until it started getting…really grimy and seedy in the 80s. I made it a point to never go into a room or the restroom by myself," you remark guardedly, but then relent, "Plus, when they started letting in little kids? I just got a bad vibe, and stopped going."

"Kids?!" Javi barks, aghast as he turns and gapes at you.

You nod. "Like, famous kids, but still – it didn't feel right," pausing, you add musingly, "Mostly I went to dance and people-watch anyway. But watching coked out celebs and strung out wannabes flounce and gyrate around got kind of depressing."

Javier grunts, shaking his head sulkily as he grumbles, "You were basically a kid still yourself…"

Ruefully sighing, you nuzzle a kiss into the back of his hair and massage your palms out to his sides. "I've established how wild I was, right?" you quip laconically, and he exhales and reaches an arm around to hold you close to him as you shuffle to hug him, hands resting at his midriff. "It wasn't all bad. I got to meet some cool people there. I'll spare you the reminiscence of my time in the club scene back home…"

He internally chastises himself. After all, it's so rare and fleeting when you open up like this.

"Did I ever tell you how I did drugs during my DEA training?"

Blinking, you sit up and comically angle to peer over his shoulder, bemused. "No, you most certainly never have!" you balk, and Javi chuckles and maneuvers you from being behind him to reclining against him.

"Well, it was part of the training, to be more precise," he amends, so you wiggle to lounge sidelong into him so you can stare in riveted intrigue at him as he continues, "Mind you, getting into the DEA requires a completely clean jacket. No arrests or any history of drugs. Nine weeks into the program, they put us in a lab where they paraded us in front of real confiscated narcotics," when you hum in wonder, he snickers, "I had to enlist to be a special agent to get my first narcotic high."

"My taxes, at work," you jibe, and he irreverently squeezes your waist. "So it's only so you can tell real from fake, right?"

"Exactly. Enough to know by weight, scent, and taste if it's real product. Narco syndicates like Cali? They've started chemically transforming their coke into other stuff to make it easier to smuggle, and then when it gets to the distribution hub, it gets turned back into coke," he explains, and you are astonished, so he adds, "But then, once it hits the lower-level dealers, they cut it with other shit…turn it into crack rock, which is what ends up accounting for the bulk of overdoses…"

You frown, shifting to sit up so you can straddle his lap and pull him into a protective hug. He relaxes and loops his arms around your waist, holding you close.

"…After graduation, I went back home. While I was there, I…I met someone, and sort of fell into his scene for a while. Out every night at clubs, partying," you're murmuring, head resting on his shoulder as you confide the darker shades of your past. "Looking back on it now, it's the stupidest, most reckless time of my life, and I can't believe that'd been me…that I'd been so foolish, but I was so angry…"

Javi holds you and listens, heart starting to race. "Why were you angry?" he whispers.

Begrudgingly, you wilt into him. "I felt lost. After my mother died…after my father put me in all those different schools," you pause, amending, "After he sent me away, well, I filled the void with partying, being wild…education at those places was a joke. I couldn't believe rich people paid so much for their spoiled kids to be taught such easy drivel. I always kept my grades up enough not to have to deal with my father, but by graduation, I didn't know what I wanted to do."

Engrossed, Javi stays silent, only occasionally rubbing his hand up your back or nuzzling your shoulder to let you know he was there – still there listening.

"…Luckily, I got busted selling papers to some dumbass freshmen at NYU, and instead of turning me in, the professor tracked me down and proposed that I enroll into her summer program. She even let me come into the campus computer lab so I could work on a coding project for her," you're telling him, fond smile softening your features as you snicker into his shoulder. "And that, by the way, came up when I told her I used to hack into the prep school's network and change the progress report grades for some of my classmates."

Astounded, he laughs, inquiring amusedly, "How the hell did you get into that!? I could barely pay attention in my college computer course!"

"Oh, that was easy. I always liked numbers and patterns, and computer code is not so different. I was tinkering with a code when I stumbled into a backdoor the school used in case they got locked out of the main system. That was a fun spring," you chuckle and sit up to kiss his cheek. "And yes, I charged the kids for hacking in to switch their grades."

"So you like patterns, but not the pattern on my shirt," he drawls, narrowing his eyes tauntingly.

"Javier, that pattern is atrocious," you snap daringly as you grab both sides of his jaw and tip his face down to your pouting sneer. "It looks like the shirt fell into a madman's printing press—"

"Alright, point taken," he chuckles and palms his hands over your cotton-undies-clad derrière. "So…it sounds like you found your passion, but then went home after college and…lost it?" he redirects tentatively to your previous reminiscence.

"Well, yeah, because I graduated and realized I didn't know what I wanted to do with my passion. I had nowhere to go, no prospects, so I went back home and spent that summer at odds with my father over nearly everything. Then next thing I know, I meet…well, technically, I kind of knew him already, but we got involved after I ran into him on a night out with some girl friends I knew from middle school," you pause and shy your gaze away, feeling uneasy about telling him.

"I'm not going to be mad, cariño. But, if you don't want to talk about it, you don't have to…" Javi murmurs and caresses your cheek.

Sighing, you lean into his touch and your expression softens. You feel safe. Leaning heavily into Javi, you rest your forehead against his jaw and let out a tense exhale.

"It was tumultuous. I never knew…I always felt on guard, like anything and everything could go wrong, but by the time I felt things were messed up and I didn't want to put up with it, I'd already moved in with him, to spite my father. This was not so far after that disastrous proposal from his hand-picked suitor for me, and he just…he just didn't want to let me live down how much of a disappointment I was to him," you verbalize your tremulous, faraway stream of consciousness, feeling the sting of welling tears that you stubbornly will away. Once you've swallowed the lump that was knotting in your throat, you continue evenly, "Then, when I finally decided to leave – had already packed my things and had a friend sneak over to get my bags where I'd hidden them while I was out with him at a bar, he refused to let me leave. I tried to storm out, and he grabbed me and took me through the back. We fought…and he forced me to get in his car."

You can feel Javier's fury coiling in him, how his muscles flex and his breathing gets deep and measured.

"He started driving out to this crash pad he had, insisting I was just trying to instigate him, but I told him that my friend had already gotten my things and that if she didn't hear from me by midnight, she was going to call the police, and…he just opened the glove compartment," you pause and collect your bravery, knowing what you say next is liable to upset Javier. "He had a Beretta pistol sitting there. I…I actually laughed," you tell him, as if completely divorced from the situation. "He's speeding down the highway, looking the most livid I'd ever seen him, and I laughed at him trying to intimidate me with a fucking Beretta."

Javier is so wound up and crackling with impotent rancor that you finally lean back and stare openly into his smoldering, chiseled expression.

"The laugh? It'd incensed him so much that he pulled over down a grassy strip and backhanded me in the mouth," you pause at the dark fury that flares in Javi's eyes, jaw ticking and nostrils flaring. Feeling like you're telling him a story about someone else, you furrow your brow and cup his cheek. "It was the first time he'd ever hit me like that, and…I grabbed the gun, took the safety off, and shot into the center console."

His fury flicks into gaping shock. "Jesus Christ," he exclaims, and you bashfully look down to his chest. You think he's horrified by you, but in reality? Javier is nothing but completely enthralled by you. Heart wringing in his chest, he grouses, "How you could have the presence of mind to do all that…I'm amazed, querida."

Gaze flicking up to his, you feel laid bare, like only his soulful brown eyes and his strong embrace can protect you. "So, I guess then the rest won't upset you," you blurt, smile meek as you idly brush his hair and focus your unguarded gaze into his. Javi nods, strong and comforting, so you take a cleansing inhale, and continue. "He screamed, and I told him to get out of the car – kept the gun pointed at him while I called my father on the car phone, and asked him to please have someone come pick me up at the road marker I'd last seen go by. Then, I got out of the car, shot out the tires on my side, and told him not to follow me or I'd shoot him in the kneecaps," you gulp the anxious tremor that skittered up and almost derailed your voice. "The local chief of police came and got me, took my statement, snapped photos of my split bottom lip, and had a tow truck and a deputy get him and the car. I handed over the pistol and he took me home to my father's."

Javi feels emotional strung out – like his guts had gone on a rollercoaster ride. Unbidden, his mind replays what you'd said. "It was the first time he'd ever hit me like that…"

His temples buzz with his tumult of emotions and his hands shakily clutch you to him as he rumbles tersely, "Tell me he's rotting in a fucking prison down there."

You hesitate before frowning. "…I can't. I don't know where he ended up, but because of the possible scandal, my father and his parents agreed not to pursue it. I didn't press charges, because he could've had charges filed against me for what I did—"

"You gotta be fucking kidding me! In what court would that shit have flown?!" he growls, trying to keep his wrath in check.

You sigh and nudge your temple against cheek. "In Puerto Rico? That would've easily flown with the prosecutors and judges," you calmly assure and hug him. "His father was a very connected business man. It was the best compromise – all things considering, and soon after, I went back to New York and my mentor in NYU got me a great internship. That led into an entry-level position at the State Department – of which I'm sure my father leaned on some people to ferry me through the HR review, and after a couple of years there, an assignment opened up at the Colombian embassy, and I was the only volunteer," you regale and kiss a doting path to his lips. "The gun in my nightstand? Gift from dear ol' dad, before he told me I better not taint his name here," you tersely mutter and find yourself needing to lean back and shimmy away self-consciously. "Needless to say, I was livid that he would only give a damn about that, after everything, and I cursed him out and told him I never planned to speak to him again."

The conversation suddenly drains you, and you find yourself scoffing and wringing a hand across your features. He can sense your angst, so he literally scoops you up into his arms and tucks you under the covers with him while he relentlessly kisses you until you unfurl and relax in his embrace. "You didn't deserve any of that—" he begins to mollify.

"Hah…I don't know about that," you scoff and nuzzle his throat. "I'm more focused on panicking that telling you all of that scared the shit out of you," you blurt out honestly, feeling heat rise to the back of your neck. "As if I haven't done enough to scare you off already…"

Javi surprises you by sitting up and gazing down at you like you're utterly insane. "Are you serious? If anything, knowing all that just makes it absolutely official: I am so fucking in love with you," is his gruff, husky purr that curls velvety arousal across you, and when he confidently caresses your cheek and declares, "You're my fierce, badass bravita," before brushing his lips covetously over yours? You feel undone and aflutter.

You kiss him with passionate thrill, love beaming in your chest and singing in your veins. There was so much you'd omitted – skipped over for the sake of giving him the most detached version of events, but you don't fixate on that. Instead, you revel in being engulfed in this pure feeling, curled into Javier and feeling the safest you've ever been. The reverent kisses you brush over his features before you card your fingers into his hair and rub soothing circles into his scalp have him leaning heavily into you, relishing your sweetness.

"I wish I could've just been with you…just safe with you," you docilely mumble, closing your eyes and pushing all melancholy away – not wanting ghosts and regrets from your past to hang over you now.

Javier's brow furrows, full lips fighting the frown your timid utterance pulls over his features. "You are now, querida. I'll always protect you," he murmurs and kisses your temple. He wants to add, 'No one will ever hurt you like that again. I love you and will keep you safe, and I'll go after anyone who ever threatens your safety or happiness,' but he feels you melt and stifle a relieved sob of a sigh. So instead, he just holds you and nuzzles you with loving, gentle kisses until he feels you slowly doze off.

He eases out of bed to turn the lights off and retrieve a glass of water he sets on the nightstand for you, just in case. Once he's back under the covers with you, he wraps his arms around you and gets lulled into his own slumber by the soft breaths you puff against his collarbone and the soothing scent of your hair.

The next morning, Javier mercifully doesn't mention the moment of vulnerability. He kisses your shoulder after you sit up and greedily chug the water on the nightstand, and while you get ready for work, he affectionately brushes his touch over you. Serenely, you smile and squeeze him back, but you can't help internally harp on whether you should've revealed such a sordid story. After all, only a few people knew of it, and even less heard the specifics. You hoped and fretted that it wasn't going to be something that bothered him over time, when he was alone with his thoughts to pick it apart. Would he think less of you for having stayed? Could it cause him to question whether to be with you?

Would he reconsider his plan – change his mind about wanting to build a life together with you?

Covertly, Javi is watching you pensively brush your hair in the mirror hanging over his dresser while he shrugs on his blazer. You both had gone through the normal morning routine so far. Woken up spooning while the alarm clock blared. Taken a shower together. Your smile had been serene and dreamy the whole time, giggling when he'd kissed you and herded you playfully out of bed and into the bathroom, gaze crinkling affectionately when he'd pulled your oversized shirt off. Hell, you'd even snorted a bossy sound and shoved him out of the bathroom so you could quickly use it and jump in the shower to ensure you were fresh when he sauntered in. You'd been vivacious and sultry as you touched him and got him off before he retaliated expertly with his talented fingers. So, it wasn't until you'd finished brushing your teeth and ducked your head when he hitched over the vanity to concentrate on shaving that his stare wandered over and noticed.

It's plainly hidden in your gorgeous strength, countenance smooth as marble. Doubt.

He sees unrest in your ruminating gaze. A tension not unlike the lonesome worry he'd seen that time in the jeep, before he'd been rotated out of Colombia. While you're fastening the earrings from yesterday into your earlobes, Javier decides you must be winding yourself up reproachfully about last night. He's about to break the tension when his own id is circumvented by his superego.

Every single time you were a callous, possessive, envious asshole? Were you any better than the motherfucker who hurt her?

The pang of self-loathing splinters like brittle bone into his most fledging parts – the ones he'd been working on cultivating to be worthy of earning you back. Javier thinks of how he's behaved in the past, especially in regards to his jealous streak, and it roils him to know he'd subjected you to it after the infuriating and terrifying things you'd told him last night.

You're just finishing with your blush and about to apply your lipstick when you notice Javi go still in the reflection, so you turn and begin to query, "Something wrong—?"

He looks at you then, and you're taken aback by the fervor of something tumultuous and ardent in his molten gaze as he strides over and pulls you into his arms before bringing you to sit across his lap when he plunks himself down at the corner of the bed. Cupping your cheek and staring resolutely into your startled expression, Javi murmurs, "Did I ever scare you?"

Shocked, your semblance loses any marble stoicism, eyes blazing and plush lips slackening in confusion. "What? No, of course not," you retort, brows furrowing as you exclaim questioningly, "Why would you ever think that, Javier?"

His expression shutters in, embarrassed. "I-I just…whenever I got – the times I got jealous, or when we'd argue…I wasn't sure if how I behaved had scared you," he fumbles sullenly, tone dipping low as he mutters, "Whenever I lost my temper—"

He's so tangled up that he doesn't realize your expression is blossoming from confusion to absolute adoration. It quickly dawns on you that he's comparing your relationship to the one you'd divulged to him last night – that he's finding fault in himself and drawing loathsome parallels to how your ex had behaved and treated you.

Amazed, you caress his cheek and cut in, "Javi, you are the best man I've ever been with. You've never done anything that could ever compare to the hellish toxic bullshit I put up with from Roman."

Disarmed, Javier stares at you and tenses at the declaration.

Seeing his coffee-brewed eyes crinkle while his mouth presses in tightly in surly tension, you continue with conviction, "The only time I've ever been scared was that night when Danvers accosted me. And even then, it was being scared for you, you dope. You think a few furious blowups and shouting matches – all of which, I might add, mostly riled me up or turned me on – ever scared me?" Pausing when his expression melts into comical intrigue, you snicker and cup his jaw affectionately while you purr, "You, Javier Felipe Peña, are the love of my life. I've never been happier, and more hopeful than I feel right now, being with you."

He exhales noisily at that and rests his forehead against yours. "So you're saying I've not been an asshole—" he begins to drawl musingly.

"Oh, no – you've been an asshole for sure," you interject glibly and purse your lips cheekily before continuing, "But in no way, shape, or form have you ever been a fucking sadistic bastard, or a motherfucking gaslighting scumbag."

He blows a raspberry at that and loops his arms to encircle your waist and pin you to him. "Thanks?" he quips, so you lightly shove him at his shoulder, snickering a deriding sound at that. "So then…what's got you all uneasy?" Javier asks, humming when you hesitate. "C'mon, I saw how faraway you got…talk to me, querida."

Deflating, you drape your arms around his shoulders and lean into him. "I was just…I kept worrying that after last night, you'd think differently of me – of wanting to pursue things. I just, I guess I worried it would make you think twice about wanting to be with me…" you confide haltingly, the anxiety crackling in your chest.

Javier encircles his arms tightly around you and heavily sighs after nuzzling your temple. "Jeez…we're both fucking neurotic."

You laugh out, exhilarated by his acerbic, albeit seemingly accurate quip. He laughs too, and you both just shed the self-conjured angst in favor for the wonderful grace of being so in love and on the same page about your feelings.

Once your mirth eases, Javi cups your jaw and nuzzles a kiss into the apple of your other cheek. "My feelings for you haven't changed, mi amor. I told you last night: I'm seriously fucking in love with you. Shit, I'm proud of you," he tells you with confidence, brown eyes warm and smile brazen when he adds, "I've never wanted to be with anyone more in my life."

Overcome, you literally cling to Javier as you kiss him silly, all your yearning, delight, lust, and elation sparking like wild fireworks in your chest and zinging into your tissue to swell in your bones.

By the time you've both finished making out like two love-struck teens, there isn't enough time to have breakfast, so you hurriedly yank your leather kitten heels on and shrug into your blazer while Javi fusses with his tie and scrambles to arrange all his belongings onto his person. You grab your lunches out of the fridge, snag your purse and tote, and herd him to the door when he doddles around in search for the set of keys you're slapping into his palm impishly.

"I'm fucking slammed today, so I won't be able to do coffee," he's telling you while he locks up. "I should be done by 7pm, though, so I'll make dinner—"

You grab his hand when he starts leading the way down the hallway towards the elevator. "Nope. I'll make dinner," you chime convivially, giving his palm a squeeze when he grunts. "Alright, let's make a deal then. The first one home, cooks. Fair?"

Javi's chest puffs out. Home.

"You got a deal, cariño," he rumbles warmly and smirks when you pull him into the open elevator and steal a kiss from his lips before hitting the button for the garage level. "But when it comes to dessert? I get to pick," he flirts as the doors shut. "And dessert might be an activity, most nights."

You chuckle provocatively at that. "As you wish, mi patrón," you sensually purr and suckle a kiss into his neck, just above his collar.

Javi groans, "Fuck, you sexy atrevida," and kisses you all the way down to the garage, where you begrudgingly have to stride briskly to your cars and part ways with a farewell peck on the lips before hustling to work.

Neither of you know that your loving respite is about to be jostled by very unexpected sources, so you simply look forward to being your best selves who're buzzing with anticipation of being curled up in each other's arms very soon.

---

Spanish-English Glossary:

Corazón = Heart; pet name to signify how deeply you love someone

Buenos días, mi patrón = Good morning, my master/boss

Atrevido/Atrevida = Daring man/Daring woman

Cariño = darling/sweetheart

Jodón = pain in the ass

Beyako pervertido = Perverted horny/naughty guy

Guapita = Sassy/foxy/daring/testy lady

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

Hermosa = beautiful

Tierna = Tender (female)

Mi amor = My love

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

Chavón = a man that's pestering you

Gruñón = Grumpy man

Lo veo luego, mi patrón = See you later, my master

Traviesa = Naughty/Mischievous girl

Coqueto = Tease (male); a flirt

La casa de los espíritus = The House of Spirits

Bravita= Tough girl; feisty girl

Guapito = Handsome (said in an affectionate diminutive)

Preciosa = Gorgeous; precious

Tengo hambre, mi patrón = I'm hungry, my master

Que atrevida traviesa eres = What a naughty daring girl you are

Amogolla'o (Amogollado) = Puerto Rican slang for lumpy, mushy rice; overcooked rice

Caldero = Cauldron; rice pot

Malcriada/malcriado = Brat/spoiled

Mi directora = My director (female)

Caripela'o = Puerto Rican slang for a shameless get over

Sinvergüenza = Puerto Rican slang for someone shameless; a scoundrel

Galán = handsome

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