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?

33. Chapter 33: Amor

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of sex, including explicit depictions of oral (m+f receiving) and unprotected sex. Mentions of hurt/comfort, emotional trauma, toxic coping mechanisms, and suppressed feelings. Descriptions of raunchy behavior, light dom/sub play, cum play, size kink, praise kink, and dirty talk. Allusions to triggering events, foreboding threats, and psychological trauma. Some Protective!Javi, Dom! Javi, Sub!Javi, Sub!Reader, Wrathful!Javi.

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Chapter 33: Amor

When you next wake, you can tell it's around the time that lavender haze of twilight starts to pale into early dawn. You lie there for a bit and just enjoy the tranquility, still enveloped by the warmth of being in the small bed together while the fresh air of early morning filters in through the windows. His scent – masculine yet softened by fragrant soap – chastens the small tremor of anxiety that bubbled up as your mind recalled everything that had happened the day before. You want to curl into him and forget it, but know you can't get caught in bed together lest you want to get a scolding from your grandmother, so you decide you have to part with the solace of being snuggled up with him.

Javi is sleeping so soundly that you're able to easily shimmy out from under his hold and tuck the covers back around his shoulders without stirring him. He looks so serene, and it makes something tickle in the back of your breastbone – gazing down at him like this. It's hard to believe that at one point, he'd just been el guapo descarado to you. And now? He's the man you love and want to cherish, having become the most important person in your life, whom you feel the safest with. It's a dizzying realization – to feel like this, to be in love so completely, and to not be afraid of it.

I never want to be without him.

The fawning thought has you feeling a fizzling glee bubble up in you, and before you let it carry you away on some enamored flight of fancy, you sneak out of the bedroom and tiptoe back into the one right across the hall. You quickly change into a comfy sweatshirt and matching pair of baggy joggers, go to the restroom, wash your face and brush your teeth, then go busy yourself in the kitchen. By the time your grandmother enters a few minutes later, you've peeled and cut a nice assortment of fruits that sit in a bowl on the counter, and are currently chopping the onions, bell peppers and tomatoes for the huevos pericos you decided to make.

"You're up early!" she jovially marvels and ambles over to affectionately hug you, kissing you on the cheek before she begins to muse, "Go sit—"

"I want to cook. Can you supervise? I'm going to try and make your pandebonos," you gently insist and declare, smiling reassuringly at her.

She nods, impressed, and goes to put out all the ingredients you'll need for the temperamental treats. "I'll start the coffee," she announces as she grabs the kettle pieces.

"Can you show me how to prep the cafetera?" you request as you place the chopped ingredients aside. "I can never get it right. Coffee comes out tasting burnt or with grounds in it," you sorely grumble as you stand next to her at the counter.

She seems pleasantly surprised by your interest. After all, every time before she'd tried to show you, you'd dismissed that she made the coffee best anyway. Impish, she lilts, "Seems someone has inspired your urges for domesticity."

Snickering, you surprise her yet again by remarking simply, "Seems he has."

She smiles beamingly and contains her impulse to barrage you with questions in order to instead show you the expert way to brew the perfect coffee using the old-school stove kettle. The neighborhood rooster is crowing distantly while she stands next to you at the sink and shows you how to measure the amount of water to pour into the base. "See the stopper here? It shouldn't go beyond this point." She then grabs the can of coffee and measures out the grounds before displaying the way to scoop and put the coffee into the metal basket, emphasizing that you should not press down on it. "—You just need to brush off the excess with the sweep of your finger, and then you can place it in," she instructs as she shows you, then hands the base and top for you to screw on and place on the stove. "Then, you just listen for it to brew, and mind keeping it on the burner for too long. You then want to set it aside to cool."

Once you've followed all the steps and have the coffee kettle cooling on the back of the stove, she sits at the table and watches you shred the cheese for the pandebonos, instructing you on how to sift it, then the right mixture of the harinas to use; the blend of salt and sugar needed; the ground cheese and egg you need to add in before you whisk; how much milk you should include and the butter needed before mixing it all up into the dough you'll need to let rest. Once it's set aside, you butter the pan for the juevos pericos and place the chopped veggies in before making a cup of coffee for your abuela, who is watching you intently now.

You sense it. It's been long enough, and you are rescind to it, so you place the cup in front of her with the sugar bowl and a spoon for her before returning to the stove.

"What happened yesterday…that was no mistake. Those men grabbed you with care, yes, but it was obvious they hadn't mistaken you for someone else. What was all of that about?"

It takes you a moment to collect your thoughts, so you use that time to tend to the eggs in the pan. "I'm not entirely sure—"

"Don't lie to me."

You turn to glance at her, and see she's sternly eyeing you. She hasn't even touched her coffee, and her eyes are flaring with worry.

"'Buela…it's best I don't tell you. Everything is sorted and that will never happen again—" you begin to mollify.

"What does Javier really do," she queries suddenly, eyes narrowing sharply on you when you press your lips together and turn away. "Lindita, I had the fright of my life yesterday. As soon as I got home, I ran to find his number, and within hours he was here. He went off with that officer, and within no time, he was bringing you home," she narrates firmly, and you switch the stove off and set the pan aside to turn and face her. "That is not something just anyone at an embassy can do. What does he really do?"

Sighing, you idly grab a dishtowel and start wringing it in your hands, trying to quell the nervous energy as you calmly parcel out, "Javier works for the DEA. When we met, he was a field agent. He and his partner helped take down the Medellín cartel. Since then, he was promoted to be the DEA country attaché. He runs the DEA here in Colombia, and for obvious reasons, I wanted to keep all of that private."

While you told her, your grandmother's expression shuttered in, becoming stoic as she absorbed the details and formulated conclusions of her own.

"I thank God for him. But, if you're in any danger, because of what he does," she begins to ruminate out loud, and when you tense, she pauses, clarifying, "If you both are in danger, I don't think I could bare it. Is this really something you've considered? That you've really thought about? The risk to him and to you?"

You are resolutely clear as the answer springs up in you. "Yes. We've talked about this – what it means for each of us, and the way we would need to go about things. Since we first started seeing each other, it's always been a concern and something Javi and I have been mindful to protect against. Yesterday was a fluke – something completely random and I was in no way in true danger. I don't want you to worry," you state with sincerity as you go to sit with her at the kitchen table. You take her hand and squeeze when she frowns apprehensively. "I promise, we're not in danger. I trust Javi with my life. All he's ever done is protect me, and gone out of his way to make sure I'm safe. I love him, and…he loves me. We'll take care of each other, and I'll be much more careful. So please, don't worry about us."

She lets out a shaky sigh before patting her other hand over yours – effectively clasping it in her warm, strong hold. "Well then…can I look forward to helping plan another wedding soon?" she chimes eagerly, and you scoff and hang your head, shaking it amusedly. "I'm not getting any younger, lindita!"

Before you can answer, you look over your shoulder towards the entry of the kitchen when you hear a familiar sound – the rattle of the band of Javi's watch as he absently shakes it on his wrist to settle it comfortably in place after he's clasped it on. Just then, he rounds the corner and enters from the hall. He's fully dressed, wearing a pair of his perfect dark blue jeans, a well-worn pair of leather boots, and a tucked in, off-white-colored, short-sleeved snap-buttoned shirt with breast pockets. His hair is brushed, face clean-shaven – save for his handsomely trimmed moustache, and he looks sheepish as he comes in and sees you both looking over at him, as if you'd both conjured him and were pleased with the results.

"Uh…buenos días," he remarks innocently, and you squint your eyes at him, not believing his 'oh, I just waltzed in unaware of what you're talking about' airs, but say nothing as you stand and gesture for him to sit down. "Mornin', ma'am," he leans over and kisses your grandmother on the cheek before sitting in the chair you've vacated, smiling when you place a cup of coffee in front of him and peck him on the lips chastely. His eyes get a little molten when he recognizes the sweatshirt you're wearing as the same one you'd had on when he'd stormed into your place and fucked you into oblivion and back not so long ago. Affectionately looping his arm around your waist to give your hip a squeeze, he rumbles, "You should've woken me to help with breakfast—"

"Oh, quit it with the boy scout routine, suavón," you snicker at him and cheekily caress his forearm before shying out of his embrace. "I'll prep the dough once I finish getting ready, 'Buela," is your musing as you serve the eggs onto two plates and place them at the table for them, offering the cutlery and napkin to each before snickering, "Eat, and behave while I'm gone."

"Hah, sure, we will. Isn't that right, mijo?" your grandmother chuckles conspiratorially over at Javi, who shoots you a smug smirk.

"Ugh, you two are incorrigible…" you grumble humorously and lope out of the kitchen.

Javi snorts and looks over at your grandmother once he's sure he's heard you shut the bathroom door at the end of the hall. "All right, bust out that photo album for me?" he petitions and bounces his brows charmingly.

Gleefully, your grandmother hops up and goes to retrieve it. While she's gone, he takes a long sip of the coffee, smiling at how great it tastes, going down smoother knowing that you brewed it.

Yep, he'd been listening. When he'd woken up thanks to the crow of the rooster in the back neighbor's yard, Javi had jerked up in bed, looking around the room and trying to get his bearings before awareness set in. At not finding you in bed with him, he'd gotten up and silently opened the door to the bedroom in order to peek out and see if you'd gone to sleep in the other room. Hearing your voices, he'd tiptoed down and stayed tucked against the hallway's wall, listening to you be walked through how to prep the kettle. Smiling, Javier had wandered back to the room, grabbed his things, and gone to take a quick shower. After he'd finished dressing and went to get his boots and belt on once he'd stored his things in the duffle, he'd stealthily returned to the eavesdropping stop in the hall, expecting to hear you both pleasantly chatting.

He instead heard your grandmother pressing you for answers. Worriedly, he expected you to shut her down and possibly end up in a reticent standoff with her. So, when you'd just sincerely answered her and made it clear how you feel, Javi had felt punch-drunk. So much so, he vacantly clasped his watch on and realized his mistake the moment he'd shaken his wrist to settle it into place. He'd had no choice but to lope in and feign like he'd not been eavesdropping.

Having heard what you'd said had left him feeling charged and worthy. It was a dazzling feeling to hear you speak so matter-of-factly to someone else about what you feel for each other. Made it feel like something precious that he was proud to flaunt, and hearing you not immediately shut down your grandmother after her wily remark had cemented his hopes – that 'not being the marrying kind' was a status in flux for you both now.

As you shower, the thought of that wily question makes you tingle a little. You need to take it one step at a time. Things are still tumultuous. You literally got kidnapped yesterday. Thinking about running down the aisle? Really? Javi wants to get a place with you. Be content with that for now and stop thinking irrationally.

With that scolding, you dry off, get dressed, and lope down to return to the kitchen, expecting to find the two of them finishing their coffees.

You instead find Javi perusing your abuela's photo album while she's at the stove, prepping the baking tray and preheating the oven.

"Why?!" you admonish, glowering huffily at the two of them. "I literally told you two to behave, and here's this one looking at my embarrassing pictures and you at the stove?!"

"I'm only prepping! I haven't even touched the dough," she defends, adding comically, "He asked me to get the album!"

Javi gives you both a wide-eyed gape, feeling thrown to the wolves. He sits back in the chair and gives you a puppy-eyed once over, admiring your flirty purple tunic dress with a keyhole cutout at the bust and a gold-print embroidered along the bottom hem and elbow-length sleeves. When you narrow your eyes at him, he just shrugs. "I regret nothing."

You snicker and shake your head, relenting, "Fine, malvadito. Go ahead and get a gander. I'll remember this when I have a chance to pester your father for photo albums!"

The three of you settle into a jovial banter as your grandmother shows you how to roll the dough into little bundles and place them on the parchment paper-lined baking tray. Once said tray is slid into the oven, she excuses herself to go get freshened up for the day, remarking, "Don't be surprised if that crew from yesterday come over later!" as she hurries out of the kitchen, intent to give you two some privacy.

"Told you," you chortle to him after you've loped back over to sit at the table with him after you washed your hands and dried them.

Javi snickers and tows you over to him before you get to the vacant chair. He hugs you, resting his forehead to just below your sternum, and inhales your perfumed scent. "You haven't eaten. Sit and relax," he murmurs before guiding you onto his lap.

You smile and loop your arms around his neck, leaning into him. "You just want to keep looking at the photo album, don't yah," you mumble against his neck.

He chuckles and nods, kissing your temple before nuzzling into your hair. You pivot to get comfy on his lap and begin to eat the food that's left on his plate. Relaxed, you manage to keep an eye on the oven as he flips through pages of the album, admiring the black and white portraits, sepia-toned snapshots, and yellowed prints of relatives from far back until he flips to the photos of a woman who looks so much like you, yet different. She's gorgeous, seeming to glow with a vibrancy and convivial aura that radiate through her lovely smile. When he glances at you, he sees you looking fondly at the photo of your mother, expression softening as you think back at how she looked in your dream that time.

When Javi flips onto the page with your parents' wedding photo, he takes time to catalogue it. Your parents are posing as tradition would call for: Stoic, albeit embracing and looking young and hopeful. She looks ethereal in her demure wedding gown and lace veil while your father is dressed sharp, shoes polished and hair brushed back. You hum and flip the page over for him, grumbling, "Might as well get to the cringe-worthy photos and get it over with."

The album at this point is cluttered with your baby pictures, and Javi delights in seeing you look like a cherubic infant, a bright-smiling toddler, and then a sprite-eyed hellion. When he'd last gotten a peek at the album, your grandmother had flipped it to your school photo section, which he turns onto now and grins. "How wicked were you in this photo," he chuckles, snickering when you roll your eyes. "Be honest, preciosa."

"I was pretty bad, yes," you chime sardonically, looking down at your younger self with the blunt bangs and long pigtails, wearing the green plaid jumper and yellow puffy-sleeved blouse. "I was annoyed that day. It was my first semester in the school in Virginia, and my mother made me wear this stupid jumper for the school photo. I walked out of it in a sulk and some boys ran up to tease me over my clothes, and one of them pulled on my pigtail, and I ran after him and started beating him up."

Javi laughs out, picturing the little girl in the photo going ballistic on a kid in a school hallway. He has to bury his face in the back of your shoulder to keep from guffawing when you scrunch up your face in disdain at his reaction. "Keep laughing, jodón. I cannot wait to get my hands on your baby pictures," you declare and wiggle daringly in his lap, forcing him to encircle an arm around your waist to pin you into place.

"Yeah, yeah, bravita. Mine are nowhere near as cute as yours," he taunts as he flips onto the next page and sees a picture of you holding you baby cousin in your arms. He smiles at how excitedly grinning you are in the photo cuddling the baby close to your chest.

You'd told him once about the brother that you almost had. How excited you'd been as a little girl, and how confused you'd been when your father had packed up the blue baby things and donated them.

"Oh! Let me check the oven," you suddenly pipe and climb off his lap, but not before wiggling your backside against his crotch one more time.

He gives you a surly grunt and provocative look as you innocently saunter to the stove and open the oven, inspecting the golden brown, puffed up breads. Pleased, you get the mittens and retrieve the tray, setting it onto the stovetop and shutting the oven closed and off. By then, your grandmother has sauntered back in, dressed in a pleated long skirt and a nice blouse and cardigan set.

"Ah, they came out lovely! Good job, mija," she praises as she peeks at the tray.

"Gotta see if they taste as good as yours first," you remark as you grab the kettle and pour yourself a cup.

Once they're cool enough, you each have one, and at Javi humming with gusto and your grandmother chewing with her eyes smiling approvingly? You bite into yours and are content. Soon enough, Javi's had three more with another cup of coffee as you chat about the upcoming wedding.

Frowning, you lament, "Oh, we didn't get to shop for dresses!"

"Well, maybe we could go today—"

A loud knocking coming from the front door interrupts the conversation, and you and your grandmother exchange duo looks of reluctance when your aunt calls through the door, "Hello! We brought food, comadre!"

Pursing your lips comically, you follow your grandmother out to answer the door while Javi sneaks another pandebono and munches on it before going to join you.

As promised, your aunt, cousin and Miguel are at the door with all sorts of goodies, and after everyone exchanges greetings, mother and daughter set up shop in the kitchen to start making lunch. Javi's eyes are twinkling at the prospect of being spoiled silly today with all the great food, and claps Miguel on the back good-naturedly when he covertly shows him a peek at the bottle of whiskey he's carrying along with the six-pack of beers.

"—My parents might be stopping by to say hello too," he declares over all the chatter in the kitchen, and your grandmother decides to send you to her pantry for supplies while the stove is taken up for empanada making.

By the time they're coming out of the frying pan, the impromptu gathering has increased with the arrival of your cousin's soon-to-be in-laws, so you go to set up some foldout chairs and open the back and front door to let the air circulate. Javi carries the chairs and helps you set them out, and quickly ends up being talked up by everyone. After all, they're eager to get to know him, being the first man you've ever brought around, and while your grandmother agreed to keep Javi's job a secret, you're concerned your aunt and cousin will broach the line of questioning they'd been forced to abandon the evening prior. Luckily, though, they seem too swept up in chatter about the wedding, so you are happy to sit and have girl talk while your grandmother hands a platter stacked with empanadas to the men, the rest of the cold beers in the fridge, and dutifully tells them to park in the living room.

Miguel, his father, and youngest brother sit around chatting with Javi about soccer teams, and after a while of that, they end up moving out to the front porch, where Miguel sets up a domino table so they can all play. You check on him by peering out the screen door, watching how he laughs at jokes and listens to Miguel explain the promotion he got. Once the proper early dinner is ready, you call them in and everyone squeezes in around the kitchen table, merrily conversing. Your aunt asks Javi where he's from, and once he answers, he elaborates that his people came from Tamaulipas and over generations moved north into Texas. They listen to him talk about Laredo, laugh at his jokes about being the last single cousin standing, and enjoy the PG-version of the story he and Miguel tell of how they'd first met.

"—Needless to say, I owed him an apology. I'm lucky you didn't slug me for it," Javi is quipping before taking a pull from his beer bottle.

"Honestly? I was so confused and off-guard, it didn't even occur to me," Miguel snickers and glowers when his brother face palms. "What?! You did not see this dude! He looked ready to toss me across the club—"

"Ay, what an exaggerator you are!" your cousin snipes sarcastically and nudges her shoulder into his side while Javi tucks his chin to hide his meek smirk when you affectionately squeeze his thigh under the table.

When he looks at you, he sees the smolder in your eyes, and has to stifle his reaction as your hand glides up to rub up along his inner thigh, achingly close to his crotch.

You can't help it. Watching him being so warm and charismatic? Jovial and open with your family? How he smiles and laughs with cool ease, treating them like he's known them for ages? It turns you on. This whole effortless, domestic respite with him has you yearning, thinking things you never have, and wanting him with a ridiculous intensity that has your thighs clenching, your pussy throbbing to be his.

Obviously, though, there is no opportunity for you to drag him away and just get ravished like you're desperate for, but it doesn't mean you can't shoot lustful glances his way and wickedly delight in how he blushes and tries to keep his features cool and unruffled.

After dinner, you help make some buñuelos and a fresh brew of coffee, enjoying how everyone hangs out in the living room and talk more about the wedding next Sunday. You tell your cousin that since you didn't get to do a bridal shower, you'd be booking a hotel room for all of you to use to get ready for the ceremony, and she beams, gushing about how she can have her beautician friends set up there for hair and makeup. Talk goes to how Miguel proposed, and you're grinning as she makes him get all flustered by detailing it unabashedly before dramatically flapping her hand to show off her engagement ring. You've seen it earlier in the week, but snicker when his mother beams about how nervous he'd been, and how he'd asked her and his three sisters to go with him to help pick out the perfect anillo.

Javi watches with bated breath as your cousin takes the ring off and hands it to you so you can see the engraving he'd had set within the band. Smiling when you see it's her and Miguel's first initials, you're about to hand it back when she cajoles you to try it on. He can't help size up how you and your cousin have similarly tapered fingers and dainty hands, so he's disappointed when you roll your eyes and shake your head. "—It's bad luck to have someone else put on your engagement ring!" you tell her before handing it back.

Before Javi can internally brood, Miguel signals for the men to leave you all to gab about the wedding by flashing the whiskey bottle in the paper bag in his hands and gesturing with a tip of his head to return to the domino table outside. You smirk, shooting Javi another heated look of desire, which causes him to mouth, 'Behave.'

Talk of the plans for next Saturday lead to detailing final arrangements needed, agreeing on who will be cooking what for the reception, transportation to and from, and tentative ideas for the honeymoon. Once your cousin has shown you the colors she'll use for the bridesmaids dresses, you gasp, remembering the glass terrariums in the back of your car. With car keys in hand, you go out to the porch and ask Javi if he can come with you to retrieve them from the hatchback.

"I'll get 'em. You stay inside," he rumbles and plucks the keys from your hand before stealing a kiss from your lips. "I can manage it, querida."

Pursing your lips at him, you relent and wink. "I'm sure you can, stud," you remark conversationally so the other men on the porch don't get clued in, but Javi's eyes flash with something incandescent at the way you enunciate 'stud' with an alluring bat of your lashes. He grunts and gives you a look that promises 'You're gonna get it, naughty girl,' before he strides off on his errand.

The minute you're back inside, though, all the women zero in on you. Uh oh…

"So, how serious are you two?"

"Pretty serious if he was willing to thrash Miguel for dancing with her, I'd say."

"Oh, he seems like such a gentleman! I'm sure they were just exaggerating. He is smitten with you, though, so can we expect to be right back here, planning another wedding soon?"

"I'd say before any of that, he'd have to meet your father and ask his permission," your aunt remarks and eyes your grandmother, who shakes her head sardonically at the whole exchange. "I remember distinctly how impressed my brother was when he was asked for his blessing. Your father was chivalrous and respectful when he asked, and I would assume he expects nothing less from your suitor, dear."

You try to respectfully not scoff at your aunt as you lean back in your chair and deflect, "I'm not on speaking terms with my father, as you well know, so there's no concern—"

"Ah! So you're saying you'd be the 'marrying kind' for him, eh?" your cousin cuts in, impishly.

Giving her a mocking glare, you snipe, "I didn't say that at all. I'm just saying that if I was, my father's approval is not a necessity—"

"But it's so nice for a man to ask his intended's father for permission. I know it's old fashioned, but I think it's very meaningful. Shows that he respects you and your family enough to ask for their blessing," Miguel's mother pipes up before sipping from her cup of coffee.

"Well, the only family I care about is right here. So, would he have your blessing?" you glance at your grandmother, cousin and aunt pointedly.

"Oh, that's not how that works—" your aunt begins to caveat.

"He has mine!" your cousin interrupts before drawling, "Ma, c'mon. Miguel asked you for permission. Are you saying that it's not the same because Papi wasn't around to be asked?"

"N-No, not at all. I'm just saying if your father was still with us, well, it would be meaningful for him to have given his blessing," she argues back.

"Well, regardless. He has my blessing, lindita. And for what you may feel about your father, I know that it would mean the world to him to have the opportunity to give his blessing and walk you down the aisle," your grandmother hits you with the sincere musing, smiling warmly as you wilt into your chair, expression stubbornly etched in a glower.

Before you can get bogged down with the sentiments cloying up in you for attention, Javi opens the screen door and fumbles in with the bags, mindful of the glass but also not wanting to kick at the door to stay open. You rush to aid him, taking the bags from him and thanking him before he glances over at the pregnant glances he's getting from the other women. Before it can get any more obvious, you shoo him back outside and take the bags over to the kitchen as you tell your cousin, "Come look at these! I think with the sea-glass and shells, we could make really pretty table arrangements."

As they all go to follow you, Javi sits back down at the domino table and takes a deep swallow of his whiskey before noticing Miguel eyeing him knowingly.

Yep. He'd heard all of that, and Miguel had watched him loiter on the stoop, listening, before he made his way up and feigned like he'd just walked back from the car. "She's tough, man. And I've never met her father, but my girl's told me stories. He's an intense dude," Miguel remarks, and his brother and father intriguingly ask him to elaborate. "I only mean he's a big shot. U.S. Navy guy. Used to be on that special team? The ones they send behind enemy lines—"

"Navy Seals," Javi offers with a nod, thanking the younger brother for topping his glass off.

"Yeah! Like, super tough, cutthroat and serious guy. Went on tons of missions, got all these awards for bravery and stuff. But I don't know, they just don't get along. He calls every major holiday, when he knows she's here with family, but she refuses to talk to him," Miguel explains to his father and brother.

Javi knows all this, and simply sips his drink. The mystique of your father is something he's rarely broached, mindful of what he does know to respect that it's something you will talk about if you feel like it. He knows what happened years ago – the devastating grief you went through when you lost your mother, how you blame your father for it, and ultimately, how resentful you are by how he picked up and seemingly moved on with his life not soon after. The entire aftermath of what happened with that bastard Roman only strained your relationship further, leaving it in tatters, of which you had no interest in repairing.

Still, it was a new wrinkle in things. If your family felt it was the right thing to go to the man for his permission and blessing in asking for your hand in marriage, Javi felt it was something he needed to do. And while you might have walls up against the man, he had no reason to hate or shun your father, and wondered how you would feel if he expressed interest in meeting him.

Before his train of thought could run away with him, the arrival of three other women who share a resemblance pulls him away, and Miguel jumps up to greet them, introducing Javi to his sisters in turn. At the new arrivals, you all go out to say hello and invite them in for dinner. They're each carrying big baskets filled with assortments of viandas and some fruits from their humble backyard fincas. Each hands over the bounties to your grandmother and aunt as gifts, and both beam at the offerings before eagerly parceling things out evenly between them.

"—Lindita, can you take these and store them in the shed out back? They'll keep perfect there in the coolness and shade," your abuela asks and directs, and you grab one of the bags, glance at Javi, and deliberately leave the other on the counter, hoping he'll take the hint.

He most definitely does, and grabs the bag when everyone is preoccupied in the living room now, before he follows the path you took out the back door. It's now late in the day, with dusk cresting over the neighborhood and the clime becoming a pleasant chill. He makes it out the back patio and glances out at the nice and appointed backyard, spotting the shed in question tucked against the back corner, near the shadier side of the property, and across from the herb garden.

Javier traverses the grass and finds the shed open, with the single bulb on, but no you.

The bag you'd brought is on the long workbench tucked against the wall, so he lopes in and places the one he's carrying next to it. The shift of the air when the door closes behind him surprises Javi. That is, until he hears your footsteps come up behind him from where you'd been tucked hidden on the other side of the open door before you loop your arms around his waist and lean into him.

"I'm sorry for all the hubbub," you murmur into his back, smiling when he scoffs and turns easily in your arms so he can hold you and gaze affectionately down into your sultry expression.

"Don't be silly. I've had a great time," he chuckles, intending to pull you along to go back to the house, when you resist, surprising him when you suddenly press him back against the workbench. "Querida—"

"Shush. I've been dying to do this since yesterday," you growl as you fist your hand in the back of his hair and tug him down to meet your hungry kiss.

Torridly, you press flush against him, twirling your tongue lasciviously along his, drinking his groan of desire and becoming alight when his hands paw you into his embrace.

Javi gasps when you nip at his bottom lip and arch for more, so he picks you up and sits you on top of the workbench to stand between your open legs before wrapping his arms around your lower back to yank you flush against him in order to kiss a searing path from your mouth to your clavicle. You grip at his shoulders and mewl, angling your pelvis to the edge of the counter and grinding against the front of his jeans.

"F-Fuck, cariño, we can't," he groans and leans back, sparing a frantic look backward to make sure no one can see or hear you two – as if they could through the closed door. You protest and pull him into you, suckling a kiss into the column of his neck and pawing your hands down his sides to the front of his waist before tugging on his belt. "Mmph, baby—" he begins to warn in a husky grouse, but you kiss him, lips beseeching and sensual as they worship his own and coax him back into the heated make-out session.

When you try to resume unbuckling his belt, Javi stops you once again, so you whine in protest and break the kiss. "I want you," you heatedly murmur and wrap your legs around him. "Please, Javi—"

"Jesus fucking Christ, I want you too. But we can't—" he begins to grumble, just as worked up, but halts when you lean back and give him a scintillating stare as you take his hand at your waist and guide it to feel between your thighs. "S-Shit, mi amor," he groans when his fingers rub along the crotch of your panties, finding them soaked through with your arousal. "You're so fucking wet," is his growl as he keeps touching you over the drenched fabric, which has you biting your lip to stifle a needy mewl. "You…you're gonna be a good girl, and just let me get you off. Then, we're going back to the house and you will behave the rest of the night," he's assertively instructing as he nuzzles along your neck, suckling a teasing path down to your chest, where he rests his forehead and sighs when you whimper in protest. "It's that, or I stop."

Squirming, you plant your hands down on the workbench and nod vigorously in assent. Javi surprises you by yanking you off the counter and spinning you around to brace your front over his forearm to rest on the workbench, while his other hand rucks the crotch of your panties aside and cups your warm, tingling pussy. He hitches himself against you from behind, so you can feel how rock-hard he is for you in his jeans, and proceeds to finger-fuck you. His thick digits plunge into your throbbing cunt and the pad of his thumb seats itself over your aching clit while he greedily kisses you over your shoulder in order to smother your whimpers and cries of pleasure.

At the mercy of him in this position – standing on your leather-flat-clad tippy toes and braced forward against the surface of the workbench, hands splayed out in front of you for purchase. Not to mention with Javi's hard-on rutting against your ass – you're quickly worked into a frenzy that has you careening towards climax. And when it hits after he corkscrews his fingers into your rippling sheath and curves them simultaneously with the grind of his thumb on your clit, you shatter with pleasure, gasping a sob of ecstasy as Javi makes you come all over his hand.

He prolongs yours bliss with his fingers working in and out of your tingling cunt until you go lax in his embrace and he has to hold you from melting onto your knees on the plank floor.

"Got you, mi corazón. I've got you," he coos before he kisses you back to your senses. "Now, I'm going to take care of you, then you're going to be good for me and come back to the house, right?"

You dimly nod and obediently turn around in his arms, leaning against the workbench so he can right your appearance. He rucks your panties back into place, pets your hair out of your face and back over your shoulders, and stands back from you to palm the crotch of his jeans before adjusting himself to not be obviously sporting a boner when he walks back into the house. As he does so, he judiciously sucks his fingers clean of your slick and laves his tongue along his palm until he's sure he can wipe it on the taut denim of his thigh without risking leaving an unseemly stain.

Satisfied, he herds you close, nuzzling a loving kiss into your temple before affectionately patting your ass and husking, "Alright, you go in first. I'll be right behind you, hermosa."

You dreamily smile up at him and steal one last luscious kiss from his full, pillowed lips before opening the shed door and flouncing out, crossing the ample yard and trotting up to the patio. Javi watches you go, internally swearing that you're going to be the death of him – either from how deeply he loves you, or from the insane case of blue balls he now has. Grunting to himself, he switches the bulb off and walks out, closing the shed behind himself.

When he looks at his watch, he times that the entire tryst took maybe fifteen minutes, and hopes it wasn't long enough of an absence to have been noticed. His cock is aching in his jeans – face feeling hot in the cool evening air, and he's now craving a cigarette badly.

He sneaks back into the house and gets to the bedroom his duffle is in to rifle through it for the packet of nicotine gum he's sure he shoved into one of the pockets. He finds it in the second pocket he shoves his hand in. The first had your pilfered panties in it. He figures he'll need them later tonight, at the rate he's going. Returning to the living room, chewing the gum and nonchalantly slipping back into the amiable gathering, Javi finds you blithely sitting on the couch, talking to one of Miguel's sisters.

No one seems to have noticed you'd both slipped away, so he pleasantly chats the rest of the while with Miguel and the brother until the first of the wave of departures start. The sisters say goodnight, then Miguel's parents, and soon after, your aunt and cousin hug you tight and wish you a safe trip back.

"—See you next week, Javi! Be sure to keep my prima from getting kidnapped any more," your cousin cheekily demands as she hugs Javi before Miguel shakes his hand and claps him on the back in farewell.

"That's the plan," Javi quips, kissing your aunt on the cheek and wishing her a goodnight as well.

You snicker and wave goodbye, then shut the door and lock up before turning to catch your grandmother conspiratorially whispering something in Javier's ear, watching as his expression quirks with something akin to flustered guilt.

Arching a brow questioningly at them, you purse your lips when she sees she's caught. Your grandmother just adjusts her braid over her shoulder and declares, "Do an old woman a favor and tidy up? All this socializing has me tuckered out! I'm going to bed. See you both bright and early," then kisses Javi and you on the cheek goodnight before retiring to her bedroom down the hall.

Furrowing your brow at him, he rubs at the back of his neck bashfully, so you sigh and shake your head amusedly before chiming silkily, "Want to put away the chairs while I tackle the kitchen?"

Giving you a lopsided smirk, he nods, pecks you on the cheek, and pats you on the ass affectionately before rumbling, "Ándale, gatita."

You snicker and hop to it, shooting him a flirty glance over your shoulder as you saunter into the kitchen.

You've managed to scrub the pots and pans, washed and rinsed the utensils and plates, and are in the middle of finishing with all the cups and glasses when he lopes in and clocks in next to you, grabbing a dishtowel and working on drying everything requiring it before it gets stored in the cupboards. The house is quiet, save for the lulling breeze coming through the backdoor's screen and through the windows, so you are content to listen to the rustling of the trees and the soft chirp of the nocturnal animals humming through the neighborhood.

Once he's stored the last plate in the cabinet, Javi tosses his gum into the trash before pulling it out and knotting the bag to be chucked outside. When he comes back in from setting the garbage out, he finds you wiping down the counter and righting the chairs into alignment into the table. He takes the moment to watch you, content and unburdened by the usual stresses that plague him, and feeling miles away from what happened the day before. You were safe, vibrant and fucking sexy as you move around the kitchen, now storing the dishrag to drape over next to the sink while you tidy up the sugar and coffee containers back onto their cubby on the counter.

Smiling, you peek at him over your shoulder, making it clear with the alluring crinkle of your dazzling eyes that you knew he was there the whole time, just standing and gazing at you so.

"Well?" you query as you turn and lean back against the lip of the counter. When he grunts and crosses his arms to lean his shoulder coolly into the doorframe, you press, "What was she whispering in your ear, hmm?"

He nips at his bottom lip as he tucks his chin bashfully into his chest and peers over sheepishly at you with those coffee-brewed eyes of his. "She said that she'd been happy to run interference for us, and that we were lucky no one really noticed how smiley you were or how flushed I was from our trip to the shed," he tells you and self-consciously rubs his hand along his jaw. Eyes lighting up with mirth, you sputter to contain your giggles. "It's not funny, atrevida—"

"Aww, it's not?" you croon playfully as you strut over to lean into him, grinning when he grunts testily and seats his hands just above your hips. "Javier, if you've forgotten, we're grown adults. It's the 90's. She knows I have sex—"

"Cristo amado, preciosa. I know that, but c'mon, it's mortifying," is his surly grumble, and you amusedly caress your hands impishly up his chest to squeeze his shoulders. "Hey, I told you to behave."

"I am behaving," you counter, adding glibly, "I'm not pouncing on you. I want to climb you like a tree right now, but I'm behaving."

He blows a raspberry at that and shakes his head, smiling when you encircle your arms around his waist and hug him. Acerbically, he drawls, "We can't fool around in the house. No way I'm risking getting caught—"

"Oh my god, who knew you were so old-fashioned and traditional, not to mention so easy to embarrass," you tease, looping your arms around his shoulders now and wrinkling your nose goofily at him when he rolls his eyes snootily. "You're a shameless strumpet most days—"

"Strumpet?!" he sneers humorously, squinting down at your mischievous smile and squeezing your waist puckishly. "Alright, you're winding me up to get a rise out of me, but it ain't happening, burlona. Now, you done in here? Because we have a long-ass drive ahead of us tomorrow," Javi chidingly grouses, but there's no real edge to it, especially when you bat your lashes and dampen your lips sexily at him. "Well?" he drones, holding firm as he arches his brow and eyes you stubbornly.

With a dramatic huff, you step back and shut the kitchen light off. "Yes, gruñón. All done. I'm going to straighten things up in the living room. You go take a shower and unwind," you sigh and pleasantly caress his cheek before kissing him on the lips tenderly.

"Fine, but don't stay up too late," he purrs and nuzzles your jaw before pinching your waist lovingly.

You hum agreeably and nudge him along before strutting into the living room to right the cushions and move the coffee table back into alignment with the couch. Javi fondly watches you before forcing himself to go shower and get ready for bed.

He's been lying under the covers for a few minutes now, trying to control his libido and avoid succumbing to his horny needs. After all, he certainly doesn't feel right jerking off to get the release he's been aching for most of the night, and is mortified by the thought he could be walked in on. So, he's rubbing at his forehead and silently trying to conjure all the things that are a turn-off in an attempt to cool his arousal.

He hears the turn of the doorknob and the soft click, so he drops his hand from his forehead and glances over in time to see you breeze in and shut the door soundlessly. You're in that demure-yet-sexy nightgown, and it's the last thing he needs to see right now when he's grappling with his baser desires.

"Querida…" he begins to admonish, but when you turn to look at him, it's pure seduction in your eyes, and you smile angelically as you scamper over to the bed and begin to climb onto it. "…You…you're not behaving right now," he murmurs and begins to sit up, when you prowl over him and push him back down into the pillow. "We can't—"

"I know. We're not doing anything, hermoso," you whisper and brush your hand over his hair soothingly before caressing soft, petal-gentle kisses along his countenance as you susurrate, "I'm going to make you feel good. And you're going to be a good boy and let me take care of you, because you deserve it, and it makes me feel special to make you feel as good as you make me feel."

Javi lights up, stretching out under you and becoming pliant as you finally brush your lips over his. The amorous kiss and your sultry petition have him throbbing in his pajama bottoms, so you maneuver the covers over and straddle his thighs in order to worshipfully trail your lips down his torso towards the bulge beyond his waistband. His abs tense and a shaky hum catches in his chest when you swipe your tongue above his navel before pressing an open-mouth kiss over it.

Arching when you tug the waistband of his bottoms away to free his thick erection, Javi has to clamp his hand over his mouth to snuff his needy groan when your mouth begins mapping the underside of his cock. You suck on his frenulum, palming his steel-wrapped-in-velvet shaft in order to kiss along it lovingly. He's already so worked up that pre-cum has collected at the head of his swollen tip, so you decide to not tease him any longer.

The soft, wet slide of him being sucked into your warm mouth has Javi's eyes fluttering shut as he moans into his hand and writhes up for more, bucking his hips when you hum and hollow out your cheeks around his throbbing cock.

You love giving him pleasure like this. It makes you feel powerful, able to strum delight through him, to dominate him while on your knees as you try not to choke on his cock. It's exhilarating when you know he's wound up and edgy about getting caught, but desperate to get off after going without for so long. And while it's got you wet and needy for him, you concentrate on sucking him off the way you know he likes it, and when you cup his balls and squeeze lightly, Javi buries his whine into his palm before fisting his free hand in the bedding as his cock swells and strains in your mouth just before he fills it with his climax.

Accomplishedly, you moan around him and stroke him through it while you swallow his spill, making sure to milk his cock of his release until he's shivering and panting harshly against his hand.

Javi melts heavily into the bed on a reedy exhale, hand flopping onto his chest just below a collarbone as he drunkenly recovers and dimly feels you shift to tenderly kiss his softening length before you adjust the cotton bottoms back into place. Your warm lips trail up his midriff before you lean to cheekily flick the tip of your tongue over his nipple. He lets out a charged breath and snickers as he moves his hand from his chest to bury in the back of your hair in order to guide you down to lie on top of him.

"I love you so much. Today was so…wonderful. Yesterday feels like it was a bad dream. That's because of you…how you make me feel," you find yourself speaking your stream of consciousness in a soft whisper while Javi combs his fingers through your hair as his other hand caresses gently along the back of your shoulder. "I…I want to make you feel just as good—"

"You do," he rumbles and nuzzles you. "You always do. I love you too."

Buzzing with the wave of happiness his words tingle through you, it's easy for you to lean up and gaze openly at his heavy-lidded eyes and pensive smile. "So does that mean you're up to misbehave and have hot, passionate sex right now?" you provocatively purr and make your point by straddling his lap so he can feel how warm you are between your thighs.

"Fuuuck," Javi drags out in a frustrated exhale, heat flaring across his skin and making him burn with need all over again. "You're a damned temptress, you know that?" is his surly growl as he clasps his hands on your thighs and thwarts you from grinding over him. "You want to get us caught?!"

"I'm willing to risk the chance," you retort simply, and when he tosses his head back onto the pillow in frustration, you huff and relent. "Alright, fine," you scoff before shifting off of his lap to lean over him and steal a peck from his lips before stating tauntingly, "You're such a wannabe choirboy, when you're really an insatiable stud, but fine, I can control myself and wait until we get home."

"I'm not the only one who's insatiable, malvadita," he grouses and sits up to tow you back over for one last passionate kiss.

He makes you weak in the knees, so much so that when he pulls back, you chase his lips until you pout when he smirks smugly at you. Scoffing, you ruffle his hair daringly and growl, "Tease."

His chuckle is velvet over steel, so you shove him playfully before standing and sauntering to the door with a parting, "Goodnight, galán," murmured over your shoulder at him.

"Sleep tight, cariño," he innocently drawls in that canela-dipped timbre before settling back down into bed and watching you wryly shake your head as you slip out of the room.

You manage to get to sleep, exhaustion taking you into a sound slumber. So much so, that you don't stir at all the rest of the night. It's early the next morning when you feel someone stirring you from your deep sleep.

"Lindita. Wake up! Come and see," your grandmother is whispering as she shakes and pats your shoulder.

"See what?" you groggily mumble as you sit up and yawn into the back of your hand.

She's smiling giddily, so you push the covers back and scurry out of bed to follow her out of the bedroom to quietly tiptoe down the hall to the kitchen. When you peek in, you practically fawn out loud.

Javi's wearing a faded gray Henley shirt and dark blue jeans, with one of your grandmother's aprons looped around his neck and over the front of his torso as he tends to the huevos rancheros sauce he's stirring in the pan. He's humming to himself, completely unaware that you're both peering around the corner with dual Cheshire cat smiles at the sight of him.

Your grandmother squeezes your forearm playfully and beams as she mouths, 'I love him.'

The sublime feeling that fills you up is unlike anything you've ever experienced.

'He's mine, so don't get any ideas,' you mouth back to her, and she snickers.

You both sneak back down the hall, rush to get dressed, and then lope back down casually, as if you hadn't spied on him in the kitchen. When you enter, Javi's just finished plating the first dish.

"What is this? You dare to cook in my kitchen? For shame, mijo!" your grandmother jokingly scathes as she rushes over to marvel at the meal before leaning up to kiss Javi affectionately on the cheek. "Oh, these are the famous juevos rancheros, eh?"

"They are. And this plate's for you," he retorts warmly as he serves the dish and pulls out a chair for her.

"Sucking up to my abuela? Really? She already loves you, you overachiever!" is your snarky tease as you notice he brewed a kettle of coffee. "And you made coffee?!"

"I did," he chuckles and kisses you chastely on the lips, shooting your faded-but-well-loved David Bowie shirt a teasing glance before he pats the back of your blue-jean-clad hip flirtatiously and drawls, "But need you to warm up the milk and show me how she takes it."

You see your grandmother swoon merrily behind Javi, so you grin at him before retrieving what you need and showing him. When he takes off the apron, you playfully tug at the front of his stretchy cotton shirt and purr, "No button down?"

"It's all I had left that was clean in the duffle," he rumbles and cheekily squeezes your waist before plating the last two dishes and gesturing for you to sit and eat.

Breakfast is a wonderful affair, making it all the more difficult to pack the car and say your goodbyes. The sudden separation anxiety that wells in your chest when you and Javi step out onto the porch causes you to turn and look at your grandmother with a lump in your throat. She senses your distress and holds out her arms to you. The hug is fortifying, and only a couple of tears escape past your lashes and roll down your cheeks as she coos, "I know, mija. I'll miss you, but you'll both be back in no time. Everything will be fine."

You kiss her cheek and nod before quickly swiping your face with the backs of your forefingers to clear the tear streaks. "I'll call every day. You make sure to let me know if there's anything needed still that I can help with—"

"You've done plenty, mi niña!" she scoffs amusedly before looking at Javi and gesturing to you. "Take care of my lindita, mijo. And be sure to come prepared for quite the celebrating next weekend!"

Javi chuckles and nods before giving her a kiss on the cheek and one last hug goodbye. "Consider it done, ma'am."

She's waving enthusiastically from her porch as you both drive off a few minutes later, and that anxiety is completely gone for now, because you look over at Javi after he rests his warm hand lovingly on your thigh, and feel a sense of calm wash over you.

"You sure you don't want me to drive?" he asks, stare gentle as he adds humorously, "I know our track record in cars when I'm the one driving, but I promise to be on my best behavior."

You laugh, melodious and enchanting as you shake your head. "It's fine. We can switch at the halfway mark, if that's alright," you chuckle and pat his hand, smiling when he relaxes and leans back into his seat.

As you exit the neighborhood en route for the highway, you remember how you'd promised that you'd tell him what was bothering you at work. So, reluctantly, you figure that since you're driving onto the freeway now, and it would be a long period before you can pull over, that now might be the best time of any to divulge what happened. Well, more specifically, to tell him some curated version of what happened, seeing as the whole truth might send Javi into a furious spiral. He's just finished adjusting the passenger seat back to accommodate his height and reached into the back to retrieve his concealed service weapon from his duffle before he opens your glove compartment and stores it in there when you were about to pipe up.

You shoot him a surprised look instead, and he shrugs as he settles back in the seat with a reassuring, "Just in case, is all."

Nodding, you concentrate on the road ahead, deliberating while he goes into his back pocket for the packet of nicotine gum and pops one loose. As he's chewing on it and admiring how your perfume entwines with the fresh smell your car's little air freshener's scent thanks to the air conditioning keeping the interior cool under the rising heat of the early morning sun, you reach for the radio and turn the soft salsa down further before clearing your throat.

"So…since all we have is plenty of time to kill, I figure now is a decent time to tell you about what's been bothering me," you offer cautiously, sparing him a sidelong glance as you get in the cruising lane.

Javi perks up at that and stretches out his legs, pushing his sleeves up to his elbows before he crosses his arms casually. "We don't have to if you don't want to, querida," he assures, brown eyes gentle as they regard your pensive expression.

"Well, to be honest, I don't want to tell you at all, but I promised, so I'd rather do it now before we get home," you sincerely retort and let out a sigh when his gaze sharpens at that. "First off…you were right. Something happened at work that made me feel the need to expedite the linkup here. Missing the deadline for it would've set us back for a launch with stateside, but they're not setup completely either, so it wouldn't have been too detrimental. I just want everything on our end to be ready," you pause, shaking your head when you realize you're rambling. "Anyway…Crosby told me weeks ago that CIA wanted to be included in the pilot. The night you'd gone to Curaçao, Stechner came into my office and gave me a list of resources from his team he wanted to be on boarded into the pilot."

You can feel Javi wind up with anger, his jaw working to testily chew his gum while he says nothing as his shoulders square up and his forearms flex from how tightly he's crossing his arms over his chest now.

Taking a cleansing breath, you tell him objectively, "When we looked into his list, the bulk of them had no business being part of the pilot. So, I told him as much, accepted only two of his people, and thought that was that—"

"You told him…personally?" Javi asks guardedly, pausing in his chewing to stare at you, brown eyes simmering with disgruntlement.

Pressing your lips together, you internally grumble at yourself. You need to admit it now…

"Yes. He's an ass and he doesn't have a deputy or normal meeting hours, so I sprung up on him the way he had to me when you'd gotten rotated out. I got word he was leaving his office late, so I got in the elevator and accosted him with my decision," you tell Javi honestly, and when you see his shoulders wind back, you charm, "The look on his beady-eyed face, and how sour he was when I left with the last word was worth the minute ride down with the prick—"

"Was all this before or after he'd tried to fuck with you by saying I was flirting up Jurado's wife?" Javi asks in an even, albeit, gruff rumble as he grumpily rolls down the window to chuck his spent gum out before rolling it back up.

Steeling yourself, you dampen your lips before answering again.

"He'd pulled that stunt after giving me the list of his resources he wanted for the pilot. And I proverbially took him down a peg the night you were gone on the San Jardín raid," you explain, glancing over to gauge his temper while still concentrating on the flow of traffic ahead and around you. His shoulders are still squared, but he's trying to quell his annoyance. When he huffs and cups his hand in order to absently scrub his fingers over his moustache and lips in an attempt to shed his testy energy, you sigh, deciding you need to just come out with it. "Everything that happened with Francesca?" you announce, and focus your gaze straight ahead, as you finally tell him matter-of-factly, "I can't prove it, but he as much as admitted to being responsible for the anonymous flagging of her visa when he came into my office end of day after I'd come back from dropping her off—"

The entire time you'd been detailing what had happened, Javi had tried to rein in the bubbling fury that began to fill him. He even tried to do the little coping mechanism for deescalating the wave of frustration you'd told him you use in order not to lose your patience or temper on him. Count to ten. But, when you got into telling him about Stechner retaliating against you by maliciously torpedoing your intern's visa? Well, Javi only made it to the count of 'two' before the fury snapped loose and had his chest puffing out as he whirled on you.

"What?" he barks, and you feel a little chill skitter down your spine as you betray a glance over and see how pissed he is. His eyes are blazing as he contumely fumes, "He was responsible for that, and he went to your office to rub it in, and you didn't tell me?!"

"I-I didn't because I knew you'd get irate," you defend and tear your eyes away to focus on the road while following up quickly with, "It has nothing to do with you, and I wanted to keep it that way—"

Javier feels impotent rage roil in him, curling his fists as he wars with the impulse to lash out, and settles for snarling, "Nothing to do with me?! That fucking piece of shit wouldn't be targeting you at all if it wasn't for his obsession with fucking me over!" He grinds the heel of his palm into his forehead and curls his fist in to press it furiously against his mouth as he lets out a wordless huff. He runs his hand in frustration through his hair, before he slaps his other hand down onto his knee as he rails, "I'm going to kill him. I will track him down and destroy him and everyone else who fucking slithers around doing his fucking dirty work—"

You let out a forlorn sigh, and Javi's angry glare snaps over to you.

His rancor immediately clears when he sees how sad you are.

Your eyes are trained ahead, attention on autopilot while you've turned your gaze within in order to combat the weary upset that threatens to pour out of you. Javi feels instant guilt and shame for reacting so volatilely, after the tumultuous few days you've had.

He says your name in a soft whisper before reaching his hand to squeeze your shoulder solemnly as he hitches thickly, "—I-I'm such a fucking asshole…I'm sorry, mi amor. I understand why you didn't tell me," he pauses when you take your hand from the steering wheel to longingly clasp it over his and nod vigorously to let him know you hear him, but can't risk looking at him. Not with how tears are burning to spring over in your eyes.

You're not upset because he blew his stack. After all, you'd expected his reaction to be vehement and bellowing. No, you're really upset because of the overwhelming feeling that swam back to you in the moment, and your own guilt for not telling him the heavier stuff. How you suspected Stechner capable of sabotage, both professionally with the system you're managing and your standing at the embassy, and personally. That for a split-second, you thought the man capable of being a silent participant in your kidnapping, which is something you know would send Javier over the edge into nuclear destruction. He'd go scorched earth on the man, regardless of the personal fallout it would cause him, and you will not be responsible for triggering that.

"I just," your voice cracks, so you banish the sadness – burying it deep down, and shift in your seat busily as you return your hand to the steering wheel and clear your throat. "I can't prove a thing, Javi. And having you go ballistic? Letting you rip that bastard's head off only to get yourself kicked out of the country, or worse…I just couldn't abide that. Not after everything," you tell him resolutely and look at him now, eyes glossy with unshed tears as you dab the back of your hand to your nose before taking a fluttering breath and staring back at the road as you susurrate, "I can't lose you again."

Javi feels gutted. His heart wrings in his chest at how much this has weighed you down. How you'd felt compelled to bear the burden of it and had been clearly suffering the stress and worry, just to keep him shielded from it. He wants so badly to take it all away – to make everything right and unmarred by the toxicity of being constantly antagonized by the surreptitious spitefulness that comes with his job. To be your shield, and protect you from the likes of Stechner and everyone else who would try to do you harm, just to get to him. But right now? He just wants to make you smile. To cheer you up and smoothen over the fracas he'd almost allowed to roil things between you both.

Determinedly, Javi forces himself to shove all that away and gaze over at you while you silently concentrate on driving.

"Alright, fine…I won't kill him, then."

You blink, snapping your gaze comically at him to make sure you heard his huffy deadpan correctly, and when he just shoots you a surly little pout as he crosses his arms crankily, you laugh. Despite how macabre the joke is, you can't help dissolve into a giggle fit before reaching your hand over to playfully grip his shoulder and shove at it before squeezing his deltoid cheekily. He betrays a little smirk, relieved to have coaxed your mirth out, so he leans over and kisses your cheek before grunting at your soft scent and deciding to shower relentlessly silly kisses across your jaw.

"No distractions!" you giggle and swat him playfully away. "¡Me vas a hacer chocar!"

Javi laughs at how impishly harried your voice got when you exclaimed 'You're going to make me crash!' before worrying your bottom lip between your teeth in order to stifle the beaming smile threatening to crest your features.

The turbulent tension of before is long gone now, and once Javi puts the radio up and pats your thigh affectionately, you interlace your fingers in his and fall into an easy banter while you cruise down the highway.

You both chat about the upcoming wedding, the plans you're already making for where you both can stay – "I am not going to want to behave and sleep in separate rooms!" – and you lament about some of the errands you hadn't gotten a chance to run.

"Well, what's left?" Javi asks musingly and settles back into his seat to get more comfortable.

"I got to get a blue dress, shoes, book the hotel—" you list off as you merrily drive, unaware how fondly Javi's stare is as he watches you count off on your fingers without removing your hands from the steering wheel. "Oh! And do you need a suit?" you suddenly exclaim and glance over at him, blinking prettily as you catch him staring.

He can't help use your cute pause to drawl, "I have to get all dolled up for you and the in-laws?"

The heat that flares in your core and tingles delight into your womb makes it hard for you to scoff sarcastically as you shake your head at him. "I mean…yeah!" When he snickers, you shoot him a haughty look. "Well, what did you wear at your cousin's wedding?" you ask with a wry smile.

"A flannel shirt and jeans," Javi tells you simply and interlaces his fingers in order to prop his hands casually behind his head and the seat's headrest. You hum and press your lips together while nodding conciliatorily at him, as if that's so quaint you can't find words for it. "What?" he goadingly asks, eyes smoldering with teasing humor when you shoot him a flirty leer.

"You do know I'm going to dig into your closet and pick something out for you, right?" you end up countering sassily. "No flannel, or 'fuck me' jeans for you—"

"Oh, is that a fact?" Javi snickers and squints his eyes at you when you nod primly. "Tan pinche chingona…fine, I'll let you pick out my outfit," he chuckles, wryly rubbing at the back of his neck with one hand and bringing the other to tap at his lips dubiously before purring, "Can I pick out what you'll wear under your dress, then?"

Your hearty laugh is vivacious, and Javi feels like the sun is shining over him at how effervescently your guffaw bubbles out of you before dissolving into the silly little giggles and endearing sigh he loves so much.

The carefree comfort between you is like this – sweet and enchanting – throughout the first half of the drive, and when you make the first pit stop several hours later, you both make the best of the time by using the facilities before picking up snacks from the food stands that skirt the roadway leading into the gas station you stopped to fill your tank at. You buy a half-dozen empanadas from one kiosk and smile when you turn to see Javi's wandered over to the fruit stand and is chatting up the nice woman behind the counter while he picks out some naranjas, toronjas, and granadillas.

Something behind your breastbone aches at the sudden thought of how worried and terrified he'd looked when you'd seen him across the way at the bus station's mezzanine, and the guilt floods you anew. You've put him through so much, and part of you seethes at you for it. He's willing to risk everything that matters to him for you and your safety. You don't deserve it—

"Mmm, these are gonna be good for later." Javi's loping over to you with the bag of fruit in hand, eyes crinkling from his smile as he sees you holding the big paper sack packed with the delicious beef-filled fritters. "Pick up something to drink from the next kiosko, then get back on the road?" is his rumble as he puts his arm around your shoulders and leads the way to the next stand.

You smile and nod, leaning into him sidelong. "You sure you wanna drive the next half? I'm still good to stay at the wheel—"

"You are, but it's my turn," he jibes charmingly and kisses the top of your hairline before nudging you playfully to go on and peruse the offerings for beverages to-go that will keep for the next four hours of the drive.

With the food haul, the couple of cold sodas, and Javi adjusting the driver's seat back to accommodate his height, you both get back in the car and resume the second leg of your drive to the capital. While Javi drives, you fill the time chatting away, and while he tells you the story of how he'd spent one stakeout with Steve and Carrillo on the side of the road next to a fruit stand, you hold up an empanada so he can take healthy bites. You feed him sips from the soda too and goofily pick crumbs out of his moustache for him, grinning when he scoffs comically at you and twists his lips out of your reach with a silly grunt.

Four empanadas and a shared soda between you later, and you're making good time en route to Bogotá. You're enjoying this little road trip with Javi, relishing the intimacy and comfort you'd gone a week without while also clinging to the intense feeling of calm you feel when you're together now.

So, when a very familiar song comes over the radio and makes you feel an illogical bout of melancholy, Javi notices how quiet you get, and as the lyrics of the Vicente Fernández song play out, he spares a covert glance at you and sees your gaze get faraway like it does when your mind is taking you somewhere else.

It's a song about a father who goes from wanting a son to getting a daughter, and having to deal with the disappointment of that. But as time passes, his adoration makes him realize how much he loves his pretty daughter, and how he chides himself ever having wished for a boy in the first place. Not with how completely devoted and fulfilled he feels now. When the song gets to a particular section, you recede into the seat and your gaze gets glossy.

Si un día se casa mi niña vestida de

blanco armiño recordare que soñaba con

que al nacer fuera un niño,

por eso rezo y le pido al señor del gran poder

que el hombre que se la lleve la sepa siempre querer...

You're a little hesitant when you turn the music down on the radio after you snap back and shove the swirling sentiments the song stirred up in you down deep to be ignored. With a sigh, you absently shift in your seat and fuss with the seatbelt, hoping you can clear the lump in your throat without him noticing.

"I know this is going to annoy you, but…are you going to reach out to your father and let him know what happened?" Javier asks, hands so tight on the steering wheel that his bared forearms flex. He shoots you a tentative glance when you scoff.

"Absolutely not!" you snipe and cross your arms over your chest testily. "I already wish 'Buela had not witnessed me getting grabbed and in her panic, called you. But if she hadn't had your number, and had been relegated to calling him?! That would've been bedlam. There's no point telling him at all, ever," is your tirade before you hiss, "Shit. I have to remember to tell her not to mention anything of the sort if she ends up talking to him—"

So much for asking her what she thinks about wanting to meet her father, is Javier's laconic thought as he stares ahead at the road. Clearing his throat, he attempts neutrally, "I mean, what would he have done that would've been different than the average civilian—?"

"My father is not a civilian," you interrupt and shake your head before staring out the passenger window. "I honestly don't know how far he'd bend shit to get what he wants in a situation like that, but I never want to find out…."

"…You make him sound like a regular Admiral Nimitz," Javi drawls aloofly.

Your lips twitch from the scowl into an impressed lopsided smirk, always feeling a little fire of desire spring up in you when Javier shows how fucking smart, witty, or learned he is on the most random things. "I wish. Anyway, it's not something I think I should be advertising at all. I'm not going to even mention it to anyone else—"

"So, if your grandmother hadn't been there and called me, would you have ever told me about it?" Javi posits suddenly, and you can tell he's trying his best to keep his tone even, but his chest puffs out with tension. His eyes flare chestnut from the way the sunlight's glare catches across the windshield and glints in his gaze, full lips pressing together tightly when he clenches his jaw.

You lean sidelong into the door and pivot to attempt to look at him head on so you can read his reaction before he even knows he's betraying his feelings about your answer as you declare, "If I could've gotten snatched and returned the exact same way without involving anyone else? No. I wouldn't have told anybody." Javi lets out a pent up exhale and glowers, but says nothing, so you sigh and appeal, "They said they knew who my father was and were very aware he was not someone they could cross without dealing with major retribution. I was in no real danger…so, if I could spare anyone else the stress and terror of dealing with that, I damn well would've, Javier."

Grunting crossly, he chews on the inside of his cheek, and stews for a quiet beat. You sigh and shift back to settle more comfortably in the seat as you prop your arm against the window panel and cup your cheek to stare out at the passing cars and scenery.

"I understand why you would…but, I'm glad it didn't happen that way," Javi remarks tersely after a heavy silence. When you look over at him, surprised, he adds resolutely, "If the shoe was on the other foot, though? You'd rain holy hell down on me. But it's not, so, as soon as we get home, I'm going to make it crystal clear to you how much I fucking love you. And how I never want you to feel like you have to think that way about anything again."

Your eyes blaze with wonder when he glances haughtily over at you. He makes a mueca at you then, twisting his lips comically and squinting his soulful eyes impishly at you. With an effervescent laugh, you lean over to kiss his cheek when he feigns a sulky snit as he turns back to watch the road.

"Alright, stud. I get the point!" you chuckle and affectionately kiss the side of his neck before sitting back in your seat with a fawning sigh. "Tan chulo," is your silly lilt as you cheekily reach your hand to caress along the length of his thigh.

When said hand creeps further up and slips along the inseam of his thigh to glide across and brush over the crotch of his jeans, Javi sucks a breath in and growls huskily, "Now who's gonna make us crash. Behave, atrevida!"

You laugh enchantingly and cease your teasing to primly turn the radio up a bit and go back to relaxing and chatting together.

The serenity of feeling so settled in the moment with him, even after skirting such a turbulent topic, has you feeling appeased and indulged – so, you lean into it contently.

Javier feels just as settled, and when a comfortable silence eventually fills the space, he's content to let it rein. Especially when he catches glimpses of you slowly dozing off in the passenger seat. Your hand's propped against the window panel to act as a cushion for your temple, and the hum of the car driving along had lulled you to sleep, until you drowsily tucked your arms against your chest and rolled your head back against the headrest to get more comfortable.

While you sleep, Javi can't help let his mind wander back over to the whirlwind of events that had occurred the last few days. He'd sensed your hesitance earlier, and once his incensed anger had cleared enough for him to think analytically, his mind had deduced a few things. Firstly, there was more to the Stechner thing. Why did he think so? Because he sensed you had held back more to the story. As he takes the exit to head towards the capital, he can't help fixate on all the scenarios that could be bad enough reasons for you to omit more details from him. Was it work-related? Could he be fucking with something her department's handling—?

He then remembers what you'd said to Trujillo, and his blood runs cold.

"I want to be able to document the incident happened if and when I need proof of this being a retaliatory attack on me, personally. In case this isn't just the Cali cartel trying to leverage me to get to him."

Javi glances tensely over at your sleeping form, feeling that knot of worry tangle up in his chest. "I can't prove a thing, Javi…"

The more he thinks about it, the deeper the well of his anger and guilt gets. He could kill Stechner, and if he saw the man again in any capacity? Well, he just might be swayed by his smarmy smile to rearrange his face, but if any of these horrible theories he's come up with pan out to be true?

You shouldn't be thinking like this. You got jack-shit on the fucker. Anything you do will just blowback on her…

Brooding deeply now, Javi concentrates on navigating the route into the city to head down to your apartment. The orange rind-like glow of dusk is already dissolving into the horizon line behind the mountains, so he drives into early twilight towards your neighborhood and manages to find a spot on the corner next to your apartment complex. Once he's parked and turned off the engine, he looks over and ends up just gazing fondly at you, admiring how soft your countenance is in slumber like this with the soft purple-pink aura of sundown illuminating you.

Reaching his hand over to delicately brush his fingertips along your cheek before combing your rogue strands of hair back from your face to be tucked behind your ear, Javi murmurs, "We're home, corazón."

You begin to stir, eyes fluttering tiredly as you grunt and groggily sit up from your slumped posture in the seat. "Oh man, I'm sorry for passing out," you say around a yawn and take your seatbelt off as you look over at him and smile dreamily when you realize he's looming over the center console, so you're able to lean in quick and steal a peck from his lips. "Did I snore or drool?"

"Pfft, no, but at one point you made a grumpy face, and I wished I had that camera so I could've memorialized how cute you looked," he teases and cups your cheek before kissing you on the lips after you snicker.

Collecting your things, you and Javi exit the car after he's popped the glove box open to secure his gun and tuck it into the back of his jean's waistband. He grabs for your suitcase and his duffle after opening the trunk's hatch, while you retrieve your purse and the trash from all the snacks, as well as the bag of fruit he purchased. Once you've locked the car, you stroll side-by-side across the sidewalk and through the courtyard towards the stairs to your apartment. Javi affectionately encircles your waist with his arm in other to squeeze your hip as you climb the stairs to the second floor. You smile and playfully shoulder past him to get to your door first so you can retrieve your keys and unlock it, and as you're opening the door, you hear a little meow as the black cat ambles up the steps, seemingly having followed you both once you'd entered the area.

"Well, look who it is," you greet as you crouch to pet her head. "You'll have to ask the grumpy man if you can come in for the night," is your silly musing to the black cat as you stand and hold the door open for Javi.

The feline bumps her head against his ankle and rubs up against him. Javi blows a raspberry and grunts, "Sure, fine, as if I have a say."

You grin deviously and make a kissy sound to the cat, and she excitedly saunters through the door before you follow her in and tow Javi over the threshold by his belt buckle.

Having fed the cat and left her a little bundle to sleep in in the living room, you both leave the fruit on the kitchen island and head into the bedroom, where you intend to unpack to start on laundry. While he sets his firearm on the dresser, though, Javi convinces you to leave it in the luggage and just take it over to his place tomorrow to do the chore more conveniently there. Agreeing to do just that, you set both bags aside as he sits on the bed to remove his boots. Sparing him a teasing smile, you kick off your flats and run to grab the phone from the charging base mounted on the wall by the kitchen so you can dial your grandmother and let her know you made it home. She insists that you pass the phone to Javi, so you do and grin when he greets her warmly and chats with her, assuring her you were well behaved on the long drive cooped up together.

"—Don't worry. I'll take good care of her," he charms and shoots you a tongue-in-cheek look as you huff, yank your shirt off, and toss it at him daringly. He affectionately sends his love and tells her he's looking forward to spending another weekend with the whole family before he multitasks leering at you as you remove your jeans and stare alluringly at him while he says his goodbyes.

After you wish her a goodnight and promise to check in with her the next day, you end the call and toss the phone onto the nightstand. "I want you. I've needed you inside me for days, so get out of your clothes, come shower with me, and then all I want for the rest of the night is you," is your sultry murmur as you remove your bra, then your panties.

Javi is more than happy to oblige.

After he strips out of his well-worn clothes for the day, you hop in the shower together and end up rushing through the routine in order to catch up on lost time in bed.

You don't even bother pretending you're going to get into something to sleep in. Oh no. You instead shed your towel and stand before him in the nude after you shake out your hair from being up in a bun for the quick shower.

Javi takes you in, soulful eyes becoming smoldering pools of want as he discards his own towel and pulls you close. He encircles you with his arms and kisses you with the yearning he's bottled up for a week.

The soft breeze coming through your windows and past the curtains caresses your bodies as he takes you to bed, laying you over the cool bedding before settling between your thighs in order to kiss a worshipful path down your warm skin. When he brushes open-mouth kisses along your inner thigh after he stretches out on his belly and shifted his shoulders in order to spread your legs far apart, Javi rumbles, "I missed you. Don't think I can be without you like that ever again," before nuzzling a kiss into your mound.

Overcome, your breath hitches in your chest, and you tremble with need as you murmur, "You weren't without me, hermoso. Now quit being silly," and run your fingers through the top of his hair. He hums and resists coming back up to you to instead rest his forehead against your womb so he can bask in the comfort of your scent and warm skin for a moment before he adjusts your legs to hook around his shoulders as he nuzzles into your yearning cunt.

This feeling of being his? The blissful acceptance of belonging to him like this and trusting him completely spins you up into a dizzying pleasure just as fast as his tongue licking into you does.

It's exactly the same feeling for him. So, Javi eats you out with gusto, but the undercurrent of his desperation is palpable in the way he groans into your flesh and how his fingers work you over into a fierce climax. He's needed this for days, and the daunting anxiety of having come so close to losing you is something he suddenly has to shed by reveling in you. In making you come apart and proving to himself that you're his and will forever be safe with him.

You're in the throes of it, thighs clamping around his head and heels digging in behind his shoulders while your back arches off the bed and your fingers twist into the covers, core radiating with pleasure as Javi curls his fingers up and sucks hard on your clit to make you come again. You whimper out and shiver from the aftershocks of it, and Javi lifts his head from his worship to watch your breasts rise and fall from your shallow panting. He admires the flush of your features, and his cock throbs against the flat of his belly and the cotton of the covers when you open your eyes to heavy lids and stare dreamily down at him.

"Come here, mi rey," you susurrate and beckon for him. Javi is on his knees and hitching up between your thighs in order to loom over you before he's even registered the action. You smile sultrily and caress his features, doting and sensual as you lean up to kiss along his jaw to murmur in his ear, "You know you don't have to worry, right? I'm here. We're together, and nothing bad happened—"

He exhales and stubbornly hums at that before he rests his forehead against yours. As you wrap your arms around him and pull him close, Javi relaxes into you and admits, "I know, querida. I just…it just spun up in me."

Gaze becoming gentle, you kiss him softly on the lips before pulling back and snickering, "And I'm still all over you, mi beyaquito."

He laughs and showily scrubs the back of his hand across his mouth and chin before playfully kissing you all over until you giggle and try to roll him off of you, only to end up fooling around. When he secures your wriggling arms to be in his grasp, he pins your wrists down and gloatingly shows off in triumph by rubbing his hard cock against your tingling pussy. You hum and lick your lips as you arch your pelvis up and watch Javi's coffee-brewed eyes get dark with lust. He's forever aroused by your eager sensuality and effortless grace in making him feel so desired, so all whimsy flints away to be replaced with feral need.

When he presses into you, it's familiar but new after the week apart and the turbulent close call. You both feel tethered to one another like you never have before, and when his cock is buried to the hilt inside you, something blossoms in your chest and makes you open completely to him. Your whimper is breathy and yearning, body pulsing with pleasure as Javi pivots his hips into an angle that brushes fiery tingles across your core.

Javi makes love to you, not frenzied or wanton as you both had felt desperate for while rushing through the shower earlier, but the passion of it dials you both into this new something, and he feels filled up with it just as much as you're now coming undone by it. His kisses pull at your heartstrings, and when his hands unclasp your wrists in order to shift your legs up in order to hook your ankles to his shoulders, your possessive touch charges him like a livewire gone to sparks before he rocks out and back into you with a gruff groan.

This new angle turns you into rubber, leaving you only able to grip his triceps and dig your heels for purchase over his broad shoulders while Javi starts to pound into you, hitting dead-center into that nested cluster of hypersensitive nerves that melt you down into clay.

He feels your legs tremble against him and your cunt ripples around his cock as your cries grow to a fever pitch of overwhelmed excess just as you wail, "Oh my god—oh my god! Javi—!" and orgasm on a sobbed whine, gushing your climax against his apex as he pistons through your aftershocks and prolongs the nerve-quaking euphoria that washes over you.

Javier watched your features dissolve into ecstasy as you came, and it was the most glorious high he could feel, knowing that he made you feel like that. But when you opened your eyes and gazed up at him with glossy wonder and damp lashes, with your plush lips parted and beckoning him, he lost it, growling, "Te adoro, mi amor. No te merezco—"

"You do, you do, Javi. I love you. Eres el amor de mi vida," you declare on a fluttering moan and grip his forearms to anchor yourself up to shower frenetic kisses over his flushed features as he gasps and fucks you faster, chasing the fire in his belly as it untangles and snaps pleasure free from his apex.

He comes when your pussy clamps around him at the same time as you mewl and climax again, sobbing while you cling desperately to him and ride out the sensation of his hips grinding flush against you before he empties his bliss into your quivering sheath, cock swelling and erupting with deep surges of cum. His voice cracks on the groan of your name, and the wrecked contentment that etches his blushed-over, handsome features is yet another kind of bliss for you that warms your heart and brings you delighted peace.

Javi shakily pivots your legs to drape over the bend of his arms as he shifts backwards enough to maneuver so he can collapse over you without pinning your limbs into uncomfortable or awkward positions. Your legs stretch askew while you catch your breath and breathe in his warm, heady scent, skin scalding now that your post-coital forms are pressed against each other. Dimly, you manage to loop your arms drunkenly around to rub your hands along the smooth, sweaty planes of his back as you turn your face into his neck and nuzzle him with a soft sigh.

He grunts a spent, sated sound and shifts so he can sit up enough to kiss the heated skin across your cheek and brush his lips over yours tenderly before he rests his forehead to yours and just basks in the moment with you.

When the blissful high dissipates and you're both keenly aware of how sweaty and sticky you are, Javi nudges an affectionate kiss just below your ear before he props himself up and pulls out of your fluttering heat. You gasp at the sensation of losing his thick fill and feeling his cum leak messily out of your tingling cunt, and he groans at the sight as it crests that fierce feral pride in him. With a sweet trail of kisses from your tummy, over your breasts, and finally to your lips, Javi gets off the bed to retrieve a damp washcloth from the bathroom and returns to give you gentle aftercare, being mindful of how tender and sore you are as he glides the cool material over your delicate flesh.

Flipping it over and tending to himself, he heads back to dispose of the sullied washcloth, and a few minutes later, comes back with a bowl filled with slices of oranges and toronja for you to both share. You scoff amusedly and maneuver up to lounge on your side as he hands you the bowl and flops next to you onto the bed.

"Figured we can have the granadillas tomorrow," he rumbles and sucks on an orange wedge lewdly as he winks at you.

You laugh and pluck a gajo de toronja up from the bowl before popping it into your mouth and humming at the succulent citrus dancing on your tongue. "Mmm, yeah those are so sloppy to eat. And a bit sour," you muse as you stretch out like a sated tigress after one hell of a tussle.

"They are. I must've eaten eight of those while we were on that stakeout at the makeshift road stand," Javi chuckles and shifts down into the pillows with you, moves the bowl aside onto the nightstand before he plucks a small wedge of toronja up to teasingly trail a track of juice along the curve of your shoulder, and leans over to lick it up. "Yummy, que rica—"

With a flirty swat at his chest, you shove him onto his back and drape yourself over his torso in order to hold your mouth open in unspoken command that he feed you the piece of fruit. Javi does, dark eyes smoldering as he watches you purse your lips around the piece, but not bite into it. Instead, you slink up against him and offer to feed it to him from your lips. His grunt is gravelly but enticed as he accepts it, biting off a half while you take the other. The taste of your mouths now is warm citrus, and before long, you make love again.

This time, it's sensual and tender, and when you both reach release together, you're too enraptured by the blissful serenity of being tangled up like this in bed to want to be apart for even a few moments. So, you curl into each other and sleep, content and lulled by the comfort of being together in each other's arms once again.

At some point, though, Javi wakes up and carefully shifts out of bed to gently pull the covers back and tuck you under before he goes to the bathroom. He's just lifted the toilet seat and taken the position to pee when he jolts at the feeling of the cat weaving affectionately around his ankles. Huffing, he relieves himself and flushes, shooing the cat out so he can set the seat back down and wash his hands quickly.

The clock in the living room reads that it's late at night, so he grunts and goes over to the sink, grabbing a granadilla on the way and cracks it open so he can slurp up the gooey contents of the fruit's pulpy seeds and not make a mess. He chases the snack with a glass of cold water, chugging it greedily before exhaling contentedly and leaving it in the sink while he tosses the fruit's shell and skin into the trash. Grabbing another glass, he fills it with cold water and turns to head back to the bedroom, and spots the eerie glow of the cat's eyes as she peers at him from the chair she's just hopped onto and settled back down to sleep. Shaking his head, he walks down the hall to return to the bedroom.

It takes him a moment to realize that you've been tossing and turning in bed without him. But once he's set the glass onto the nightstand on your side of the bed, though, he hears you shift and make a little mewl in your sleep. Hurriedly, he rounds the bed to slide under the covers next to you and lies still, hoping it was just your unconscious stirring you up because you were suddenly alone.

He doesn't know that you're tumbling from a dream world of running through an empty, echoing terminal while shouting his name down into a miasma of anxiety that has you set adrift before you're tugged under. You're scared and thrashing up through the inky blackness towards the circle of light above the surface. You're struggling to get away from the darkness, panicking that it will pull you under, when you're suddenly squinting at the brightness of the sun that refracts across your face.

You blink and struggle to make your vision stop swimming, but realize you're no longer being towed under, so you sit up and realize you're in motion.

The scene sharpens, coming into focus, as you feel suddenly trapped behind your dreaming gaze. You look around, recognizing the backseat of the Cadillac, but are confused by why you're riding in the back. Your palms feel cold and like they're cupping a glass bottle sweating condensation while the soda fizzles and swirls crisply in you ears. But when you reach your hands up, the kola bottle is gone, and you realize your wrists are bound together with a zip-tie.

The panic of before zings across your psyche as you jolt and try to clamber away from the sinking feeling at your back. But then, just as you're convinced you need to reach out to the front passengers for help, you peer over the leather back of the front seats to find them empty. Gaping out through the windshield, you see you're on the winding mountain road, careening down the curve and towards the metal guardrail with the tropically lush valley just beyond it.

Before you can activate your paralyzed mind into action or dive to reach for the steering wheel, the Cadillac smashes through the barrier, and you feel yourself start to plummet down towards oblivion—

Javier realizes you're dreaming when your legs spasm under the blanket and your hands grip the pillow as you whimper distressed little noises, so he rolls onto his side to loop his arm around your waist and gently pull you into his chest. It's then, as you're plummeting in your dream, that you startle awake with a scared gasp and rile against him for a split second before his soft, hushed, "It's ok, cariño. You were just dreaming. I've got you," anchors you to desperately wrap your arms around him and cling for dear life as you bury your face in his neck and try to center yourself.

He feels how you're trembling, so he holds you tight and soothingly nuzzles kisses to the parts of you he can reach with how wound up and curled into him you now are. Worried and eager to pacify your panic while his sadness tangles up in his chest with how upset you are from the dream, Javi finds himself cooing gently, "You're safe, querida. I have you. I'm not going to let you go..."

At his words, and when your heart keeps racing and wringing with the anxiety of your dream, you get choked up by the sob that catches in your throat and steals your breath, and before you can help it, you're softly weeping – utterly overwhelmed with some frustrated sense of grief that's swept up your fear in it's eye and left you clinging to the bone-splitting relief you feel at being in Javi's arms.

Soothingly, he comforts you, rubbing your back and letting you tuck yourself protectively against him to be rocked in his embrace while he murmurs to you, 'I love you, preciosa – it was just a bad dream – it's alright – I'll protect you, mi amor—'

While you let his voice and gentle words unfurl the relief to overtake the upset of your dream, you mechanically wipe the back of your palm over your tear-streaked cheeks and across your sniffling nose before you force yourself to take a fortifying inhalation of breath and let it loose. Javi's lips brush the top of your head, and you reassure him you're all right now by caressing the side of his neck and nuzzling into his clavicle.

You start to truly settle down and regain your breath, willing your composure to wash over you as your mind is lulled into calm by Javi's gentle, velvety baritone husk of, "It's ok not to be ok. I'm here for you, querida."

It was the salve to the wound you didn't know you needed, hearing him say that while holding you to him with such care.

When you finally relax and dissolve into him, you brush worshipful kisses over his jaw, throat and collarbones before you tuck your head under his chin and let out a shaky, relieved sigh.

Soothingly, Javi brushes his hand through your hair and feels relief settle in his chest when you go soft in his arms and doze off in his embrace.

He wonders what your nightmare was about, but after everything that's happened, he decides he won't pry or bring it up at all, unless you need to confide and work through it; to get it out and processed. He feels something jostle the corner of the bed and makes out the dark shadow-like silhouette of the cat as she saunters up to almost empathically drape herself over the bend of your legs tucked under the covers and start purring sibilantly until she tuckers herself out – and lulls him to sleep too.

When he next wakes, it's a little before dawn, and he finds that in your slumber, you've both ended up spooning. You're nestled against him with the arm he's wrapped around your waist pinned to your side from your hand having interlaced your fingers with his. Your womb is warm and supple against his palm, and the skin at the back of your neck is cool as he presses his lips there covetously before stretching his legs a bit and finding that the little black cat was tucked in the crook made by the backs of his knees.

He can't help soundlessly exhale his snicker past his lips as he settles back down and closes his eyes, thinking amusedly to himself that he's sandwiched by two nimble little vixens. The silly thought has a pleased tickle fluttering in his chest as he dozes back off.

You wake up a while later, right before the alarm was set to go off. Javi's soft purring snore is at the back of your neck, and you smile as you nimbly shuffle away, biting your lip to stifle making a sound from how your aching legs, thighs and hips resist you. As you shift to the side of the bed so you can reach for the clock and turn off the alarm before it blares, you smile at the glass of water Javi set out for you. It looks inviting, so you take it and drink with gusto, draining the glass until your thirst is quenched. You've just set it back down and attempted to shuffle back under the covers when the cat bolts up and peers over at you from the other side of Javi.

She lets out a long yawn and vaults over his legs, and Javi grumbles in his sleep and rolls over. You shush the feline and lie back down – trying to not wince at how your sore muscles throb in protest – while you pat the spot between you and Javi for her to come settle down in. She does merrily and lets you pet her until she starts to purr and lowers her head to rest on her stretched out front legs. As you pet her rhythmically, you stare at Javi's back, watching as it broadens and eases with his relaxed breathing. It calms you, and you end up shutting your eyes for what you thought would be a few moments, but then end up drowsily stirring suddenly by the cat meowing imploringly.

"Hmmph, fuck, alright. I'm awake," Javier's cranky grumble wakes you completely to turning your head on the pillow and watching as the cat climbs him before he huffs and nudges her off him onto the bed, where she mewls impatiently. "What?" is his grumpy question to the cat.

Sleepily, you pull yourself up into a lounging position to bury the yawn you let loose into the back of your hand as you answer for the feline, "She wants to go out," before looking over at the clock and frowning. "Mmph, we slept later than we should. We still need to get your car from the airport," is your sigh. Javi grunts and sits up to wring his hands tiredly across his face, which annoys the cat to meow admonishingly for his attention. "Alright, just wait a sec, señorita. Let me get some clothes on and I'll let you out—" you begin to assure the cat as you sit up completely and shuffle to the side of the bed.

But before you can swing your legs out and over, Javi caresses your back as he rumbles, "Lie back. I'll let her out."

Before you can protest, Javi's bound out of bed and grabbed for his gray sweatpants, slipped them on, and snapped his fingers at the cat for her to follow him. She perks up and happily follows, galloping off the bed and down the hall to be right on his heels as he gets to the front door, unlocks it, and cracks it open enough for her to hurry out. Grunting, he shuts and locks up, yawning into the back of his forearm as he trudges back into the bedroom. Instead of finding you cozy in the bed still, you've just slipped into your silky robe and tossed your hair to fan down your back.

Flopping onto the bed sidelong, he watches your shoulders relax when you let out a sigh and turn to peer over your shoulder at him. Your eyes are pensive, but bright, stirring him to sit up and swing his legs over to the side of the bed in order to sit next to you. He's formulated what he wants to say – planning to assure you that you don't have to talk about last night. That everything is all right, and you both can just put it behind you—

You pivot to straddle his lap in order to wrap your arms around his shoulders, hugging him tight. Javi returns the hug, but is disarmed.

"When you say that you don't deserve me? I need you to know that's not true. If anything, I feel like I don't deserve you," you suddenly confide.

It floors him, but he finds he has no words, so he squeezes you lovingly and nuzzles your shoulder. "You…you always make me feel safe, and are always putting up with me, risking yourself…protecting me. I just…I don't know how to be that for you. I want to make you feel exactly how you make me feel," is your charged whisper, emotion cracking your voice as you pour your heart out to him. You want to tell him that when he held you last night, you'd found peace and known you wouldn't be able to find that ever again outside of his arms. But, you don't. Instead, you decide to sum it up differently.

"You're the love of my life. I need you to know that, Javi."

When you say this, you lean back to gaze into his handsome features, and feel overcome with how open and awed his soulfully crinkled brown eyes are, lips soft and parted in wonder. As if what you've said is unlike anything he's ever heard, let alone been told.

He cups your cheek then, fingertips brushing your skin as he composes himself to find the answer he feels imperatively he needs to convey to you in order to emphasize how fulfilled he feels in this moment with you.

"I know," he blurts, and then feels ridiculously flustered as he scoffs, "Fuck, no, that wasn't what I was going to say. I meant—I wanted to say," he pauses when your expression softens into a dazzling smile and your eyes crest with affection. "You make me feel like I'm fucking worthy, querida. Don't ever think you don't do the same for me." Your eyes soften, and Javi feels compelled to kiss you with the longing and amorous pride you've stoked in him before he rests his forehead against yours and murmurs, "I love you so much. All I want is to be with you, and I need you to know that."

You laugh, nodding affectionately as you kiss him indulgently, nuzzling his neck when he pulls you into an adoring hug.

Feeling settled and at peace, you both get on with your morning routine. You shower, have a quickie against the tiled wall under the warm water, rinse off the post-coital debauchery and soap, then hustle to get ready so you can grab your things and head down to your car. Javi tosses the bags with the laundry for doing at his place later into the backseat, and hops in while you store the bag with the remaining fruit behind the driver's seat.

He snags an orange out of the bag and proceeds to peel it with his dexterous thumbs, separating it into two halves before shooting you an affectionate, albeit smug look as he holds them up and drawls, "Eres mi media naranja, preciosa."

You can't help the silly and beaming smile you shoot his way. "Oh my god, you're such a dork for saying that! What a line—"

"It's a good one because it's true," he puckishly rumbles and winks, smirking when you scoff sardonically at him. "You love it," is his confident purr as he keeps peeling the orange, easily separating the quarters and removing the wedges before sharing one with you.

Taking the wedge, you shoot him a flirty glance before purring, "Yes, I suppose I do, mi cariñito," and then savoring the citrus treat with a hum of delight, relishing how his brown eyes light up at the novel, sweet endearment.

It's an effortlessly romantic way to spend the morning in traffic together.

Once you've dropped him off at the spot where he parked his car at the airport, you wait for him to get in and pull out so you can both drive on to the embassy. You manage to arrive and park at different ends of the underground garage, and take the elevator up together. The citrus scent that clings to both your fingers is the only giveaway that you and Javi are anything but professional. And while you're alone as you both ride up together, you and Javi had agreed to be very careful at work – lest you give more petty and vindictive ammunition for the likes of the CIA station chief to exploit.

"Coffee date later?" you propose flirtatiously in a cool murmur, smiling when he hums in temptation next to you. "I can bring them up to your office, using finishing our status report as an excuse for popping in," is your cajoling lilt, winking at him.

Javi nods just as the elevator arrives at your floor. "Sound like a plan, directora."

You have to check yourself in not giving into the impulse of leaning in for a kiss when the door slides open. Quelling the desire, you saunter off the elevator on your kitten heels and offer him a musing, "Buen día, Agente Peña."

He internally groans, wishing he could've kissed you, and hits the button to close the elevator doors.

Your morning is hectic, but pleasant, as you catch up on things and meet with Ellis. He peppers you with questions about your week off, and you give him the light version – having spoken with Javi prior and decided that you both would keep everything that happened in Medellín private.

It's easy to put it behind you and pretend it had been some strange event involving some other version of you. So, you do, and continue on with your day, and by the time your coffee date time rolls around, you take two cups of freshly-brewed deliciousness up to the DEA's department and greet Stoddard warmly as you pass his desk and enter when Javi waves you in while he wraps up a call. You hand him a cup and sit across from him as he hangs up the phone and huffs.

"Bad news?" you ask before sipping from your cup.

"Just my guys giving me an update from Cali," he mutters before taking a sip and sighing contentedly as the caffeine gives him pep. "All caught up yet?"

"Pretty much. The linkups are running smoothly, and stateside might actually get their half of the work done end of week," you remark affably and give him the latest scoop on his team you got from Ellis. "—By the way," you muse and lower your voice as you confide, "So, he had that talking to with Devon while I was out. Turns out there might be some sparks flying for real between him and, Noreen, was it?"

"Shit, really?" Javier chuckles and leans into his desk chair. "Well, if that's the case, they both gotta go up to HR and disclose that, right?" is his smug drawl as he quirks his brows derisively at you, in silent suggestion of, 'Like you and I will, eventually?'

You purse your lips with amusement and shrug aloofly. "They should, but I think we'd end up having to get pulled in to be made aware of it…which we already are, but still. I'm not going to force the issue. Technically there's no conflict, or inappropriate disparity in power dynamics between them—"

"But they should disclose it if it's getting serious," Javi counters, drinking from his cup as his coffee-brewed eyes squint at you.

"Well, if you're going to insist on it, then I'll have to as well," you retort and cross your legs so you can place the cup to rest on your pencil-skirt-clad thigh as you swish it languidly and eye him thoughtfully.

"Hmm, let's play it by ear, then," Javi muses, smiling when you both shoot each other dueling knowing looks, before his phone rings again, forcing him to reluctantly sit up to grab for it as he states, "I gotta take this," then lowers his voice to murmur, "See you at home later?"

Nodding, you purr, "I'll be there, doing laundry," and bounce your brows, which makes him snicker and shake his head while you stand and offer him a wave as you strut out of his office onto your next meeting.

He watches you go, and makes a mental note to do a stop upstairs to the HR department as he answers the phone and gets more tedious reports.

One you've returned to your floor and walked across the workspace towards your office, you are internally beaming with all the things you're looking forward to doing the rest of the week in preparation for the wedding. You feel light and hopeful, and can't help succumb to some of the giddy glee that fizzles up in your chest as you picture being able to pounce on Javi later tonight, when you walk into your office and halt dead in your tracks.

On your desk is an inconspicuous-yet-totally-out-of-place bottle of Postobón.

The cold anxiety that curls in your chest and makes you fidget as you coax your mind back from the precipice of recollecting the kidnapping, the dream, and the terror that had zipped into your bloodstream at the barrage of sense-memory recall, is daunting, and you only manage it as you go on autopilot. You feel yourself walk into the office, shut the door, and approach the desk, staring at the bottle of Colombian kola that's the same flavor as the one your captor – Navegante – had given you to drink while you'd been blindfolded and sat in the back of the car he and the other two Cali-affiliated men had abducted you into.

It's only when your frenzied gaze focuses in on the bottle more keenly that you notice the yellow sticky note attached to the bottle's front label. Picking it up and reading the message without removing the note, you feel ice fill your veins.

HOPE YOU HAD A NICE TRIP. NO HARD FEELINGS.

You absorb that. Letting the message echo in your mind, and the more you repeat it, the more it takes on the voice of Bill Stechner – the way you think he'd enunciate it with that smarmy, conceit-filled tenor of his. And then something that had been left to flounder in the recesses of your thoughts springs up into the forefront of your methodically angry mind.

"No need to worry. We know who your father is thanks to your buddy…"

With cold calm, you sit at your desk, retrieve your purse, and sift into a slip pocket for the card you'd tucked away.

After you make the call, you open your bottom desk drawer and place the glass soda bottle onto its side over a stack of empty folders before you shut it and sit back to recline in thought.

Analyzing and strategizing your options, you resolve on the one you believe will net the desired result, and bring you the most satisfaction, before you retrieve Francesca's laptop from the opposite drawer and begin doing some painstaking work.

Work that – if successful – will make it possible for you to keep a promise you've made to yourself and Javi.

No hard feelings. No. No feelings at all.

The endeavor is one you will keep close to the vest, intent on resolving things once and for all, putting it into motion and biding your time for the right moment.

Said moment won't come soon enough for you, but when it comes, it will be at a time you find yourself reevaluating everything that ever mattered to you, and deciding on an unexpected path forward that will redefine the planned course of your life.

---

Spanish-English Glossary:

El guapo descarado = The handsome cad

Huevos pericos = Colombian breakfast dish of scrambled eggs with scallions, onions, peppers, and tomatoes

Cafetera = Coffee kettle

Harinas = Flours

Abuela/'Buela = Grandmother; short for 'Grandma'

Lindita = little cutie; pretty little girl

Buenos días = Good morning

Suavón = Smooth talker; Smooth guy

Mijo = short for "mi hijo", a term of endearment akin to "my son/sonny"

Malvadito/malvadita = Wicked little boy; wicked little girl

Preciosa = Gorgeous; precious

Jodón = Pain in the ass (male)

Bravita= Tough girl; feisty girl

Mija = Short for mi hija, aka my daughter; my girl

Comadre = Endearment showing familiarity with a same-aged woman; Godmother; Sister-in-law

Buñuelos = Cheesy fritters; doughy puffs

Anillo = Ring

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

Viandas = Root vegetables

Fincas = Rural properties; grow plots

Cariño = Darling/sweetheart

Mi amor = My love

Mi corazón = My heart; affectionate term to signify how deeply you love someone

Hermosa/hermoso = beautiful (female); beautiful (male)

Prima = Cousin (female)

Ándale, gatita = Go on/Hop to it, little kitten

Atrevido/Atrevida = Daring man/Daring woman

Cristo amado = Christ beloved

Burlona = Joker (female)

Gruñón = Grumpy man

Galán = handsome man

Canela = Cinnamon

Mi niña = My girl; sweetie

¡Me vas a hacer chocar! = You're going to make me crash!'

Tan pinche chingona = Such a fucking badass lady

Naranjas = Oranges

Toronjas = Grapefruits

Granadillas = Similar to passion fruit

Si un día se casa mi niña vestida de, blanco armiño recordare que soñaba con, que al nacer fuera un niño, por eso rezo y le pido al señor del gran poder, que el hombre que se la lleve la sepa siempre querer... = If one day my girl gets married in a ermine white dress, I'll remember that I dreamed to have a boy, so I'll ask the Lord and pray for, that the man that takes her away always loves her...

Mueca = Making a face; silly grimace

Tan chulo = Such a sweet little cutie (male)

Mi rey = My king

Mi beyaquito = My little naughty perv

Te adoro, mi amor. No te merezco = I adore you, my love. I don't deserve you

Eres el amor de mi vida = You're the love of my life

Que rica = How delicious [you are] (female)

Señorita = little lady

Eres mi media naranja, preciosa = You're my other half, sweetheart

Mi cariñito = My sweet little darling

Directora = Director (female)

Buen día, Agente Peña = Good day, Agent Peña

The song referenced and translated above is "Mi Niña Bonita" by Vicente Fernández.

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