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lisired · 1 month

Text

pretty little weapon

pairing: undercover cop!mark x (f) reader

genre/warnings: smut, organized crime, cop x criminal, graphic depictions of blood and violence, mentions of death, smut, choking, oral (f receiving), biting, a pinch of angst, mentions of pregnancy-related death, unprotected sex (dont b silly, wrap ur willy!), vague mentions of sexual assault

summary: A lifetime worth of adversity had brought you to Bloodlust. You joined them to escape your history, but with Mark Lee - an undercover narcotics agent with a secret to keep - comes the threat of being forced to confront your past. Old wounds are opened, but scars heal.

word count: 25.7k (…i have nothing to say for myself.)

a/n: inspired by PLW by leon thomas, bad news by kehlani, and perfect crime by tinashe! bon appetite! I did this on a whim. read this with the 2 baddies styling concept in mind. as always, feedback is appreciated!

You were going to be absolutely livid if Yuta didn’t up your pay.

After a long night of work, you anticipated crawling into your sheets. Then waking up to a large sum of money deposited into your account in the morning as courtesy of your hard work.

That never happened.

“This was not in the job description,” you complained to your boss. Though there was technically never a clock for you to be on, you had already firmly clocked out. And when he invited you on this escapade, you were inclined to deny. But he was nothing if not unrelenting.

Yuta smirked and brushed you off. “You do stone cold murder for a living, baby. This is what you signed yourself up for the moment you killed somebody.”

God, you hated when he was right. Sometimes all you ever wanted to do was argue with whatever he said. Moments like this when he began cutting down on your downtime.

Soaring through flocks of people, you kept very close to Yuta’s side, his arm firm around you. People knew not to mess with him, and thus anyone considered his associate. That was one of the beauties of working for Bloodlust, you supposed. As long as you were loyal and faithful to them, you were guaranteed total protection and discretion against anyone.

The tale of how you secured a job of this nature in the first place was relatively simple. You were scouting the streets as usual, given it was the only home you’d known. Violence was absolutely nothing new to you as you had been in your fair share of street gangs prior to Bloodlust. But one thing led to another and you had blood on your hands in an act of self defense. Specifically the blood of your own fellow gangster.

Just your luck, Yuta witnessed the scene. He was a stranger at the time, some shady man offering help that looked like nothing short of trouble. You found yourself surprised that you even took his deal, but you weren’t left with any alternatives. Going back to the gang was not an option; there was no telling how the leader would respond to the blood of your superior being on your very hands. There was no mercy there.

Yuta vowed to cover for you, but you would perpetually owe him in return. You were expecting something more lewd when he informed you that you would be working for him, though you did nothing of the sort. Yuta took you under his wing and handed you a job as a contract killer.

And the rest was history.

You hurdled closer to his chest, pursuing warmth. Given the hour and the season, the outdoors were becoming frostier. You exhaled and saw your breath condensing in the air.

“Stay put,” Yuta said. As if you would run off anywhere. You were tempted, though you weren’t stupid. And though you would never admit it to his face, you loved the street races.

After you nodded, Yuta parted without having to worm his way through the crowd. They respected him, though most of it was out of pure fear. They made way for him whenever they saw him approaching.

You eyed the roads while you waited. The street races were one of your favorite aspects of the gang. They were orchestrated by Yuta and were a great source of profit overall. But watching them was the part you were fond of.

One of the cars before you caught your eye - a neon green Porsche. You had barely laid a finger on the exterior before you were forcibly knocked backwards, your face slung to the other side.

You held your cheek in your palm, adrenaline pumping through your veins. There was no immediate pain. You didn’t even feel like you were in your body. You could only stumble as you grasped to process what happened.

A visibly upset man - one of the racers - was waving his fist at you, screaming this profanity and that, but from the looks of it you hadn’t left as much as a scratch on his car. And if he thought he was going to intimidate you, he had another thing coming. Brutal adrenaline came over you and you socked him square in the jaw. Harder.

The racer was knocked to the ground by the force. “You’re gonna regret that,” he growled. You merely laughed. It was comical and you almost took pity on him. This guy clearly had no idea what forces were on your side. Not until he noticed Yuta and Johnny beginning to rush in his direction and he bolted.

The gang had very simple rules and even simpler consequences. If you disobeyed, you died. They were so simple that if you violated them, they read it as an act of defiance. The most obvious rule was to respect the high-ranks and their associates. The second was to comply, or your punishment would be fatal.

Another man came to your side and lowered you to the ground for inspection. This one you didn’t recognize at all. “Yo, are you okay?”

“It doesn’t hurt that bad,” you said, moving your fingers from your cheek to your lips. When you glanced down at them, you saw blood.

The stranger handed you a napkin. “Here.”

You took it and wiped your mouth, and thus the blood at the corner of your lips. That was one hell of a punch. Rather than feeling pain, you were in a state of immobilizing shock.

“Thanks, uh…,” you squinted your eyes, running his face through the facial recognition system installed in your memory. But you came short. Which was surprising, because you always remembered the faces of the regulars.

“Mark,” the stranger finished. Then he flashed you a smile. “It’s nothing. You should get that checked out, though. Make sure nothing’s broken or fractured.”

You nodded. As a result of uttering any speech, you noticed that your jaw slightly ached when you spoke. For fuck’s sake. None of this would have happened if you were in your bed.

Then Mark disappeared. And you had no time to think before you heard a piercing noise.

Gunshots rang in the distance and you weren’t at all surprised to see Yuta and Johnny return with sinister looks on their faces. Yuta helped you to your feet and asked, “You good, Scar?”

Scar was the alias you’d been granted after Yuta noticed the scar on your stomach. Rather than finding it odd, he was astonished by it. Which was so utterly Yuta of him. The alias served no other purpose than maintaining your confidentiality, but Yuta always thought it had a nice ring to it.

“Not the first time I’ve been punched. I think I’m gonna be fine,” you assured him. The gods had blessed you with an unholy pain tolerance, which all your tattoos were a testament to. You remembered the matching one you got with Yuta and subconsciously smiled.

Friends like Yuta were, needless to say, rare.

All of the evil melted from Yuta’s face and he chuckled. “You’re a tough woman.”

“You love it.”

“I do.” Yuta curled his arm around you again. You were certain he was going to cuff one of your hands to his arm and never let you out of his sight again. “I was surprised that you didn’t finish that guy then and there. You took a pretty mean punch, babe. Must’ve been too shocked.”

That you were. But he was taking a nice load of bullets to the head before you even got the chance.

After the races were over and the roads were cleared out, you followed Yuta to his car. You suddenly had a thought once you hit the road.

“Yuta, do you know someone named Mark?”

Yuta furrowed his brows. “Nah. Why?”

Your heart sank. “Fuck.”

He glanced at you for a split second before returning his eyes to the road, but asked, “What’s wrong?”

“There was this guy at the race. He helped me and gave me a napkin to wipe the blood off of my face, but I didn’t recognize him. He told me his name was Mark.”

Yuta was alarmed. Just as you expected. It was one thing if you didn’t recognize a person at one of the gang’s events, but not Yuta. He had to ensure the attendee’s identities were closely monitored for everyone’s sake.

“Fucking hell?” Yuta handed you his phone and said, “Call Jaemin for me and tell him to look into the records. Maybe it slipped my mind. Let’s not jump to any conclusions, okay?”

You nodded your head and did as told, pressing his phone to your ear. Jaemin told you that he was AFK but would run a search as soon as he got back to the headquarters. Yuta dropped you off promptly and assured you that he’d call you with an update first thing in the morning.

Which only left you to wait.

In the morning, Yuta called you into his office, and you were immensely surprised to see not only him but Ten and Taeyong waiting for you in the room. Technically, you didn’t work for Bloodlust as a whole. There was a team of hitmen that worked specifically under one high-rank, though you were Yuta’s subordinate. Thus, encounters with other high-ranks were rare. Especially the leader.

Taeyong was the leader and the one at the helm of the entire gang. He inherited the title by succession to the metaphorical throne through descent. Yuta was his right-hand man, though given Taeyong rarely stepped out of the shadows unless absolutely necessary, Yuta being perceived as the leader was a popular misconception to outsiders and law enforcement. Which was completely deliberate. The less law enforcement knew, the better. It also made the task of differentiating interlopers from legitimates much lighter.

Ten was the gang’s personal spy. Their eyes to the other world. Just like any other high-rank, he directly supervised an entire branch of people pertaining to his title. Essentially, he was the leader of a team of criminal agents.

None of that explained why they were here, though.

As it was in your best interest, you greeted the three of them very politely. Though Yuta had a threatening position, you were close enough to be informal. Those freedoms didn’t apply to Ten and the leader. They might have been as good as strangers, but considering their influence in the underworld, they could have ended your life and career in an instant if they so pleased.

Glancing at Yuta, you said, “You called me, Boss?”

Yuta resisted a smirk at your attempts to be formal. You never called him ‘Boss’. “I did. I had Jaemin follow up on the Mark guy. We found something recent about him in our records.”

Ten interjected, “But I had a buy-off of mine’s confirm his real identity. He’s a Lee Minhyung. An undercover narcotics agent once tasked with tracking down a drug empire, and now that he shut them down we believe he’s moved on to attempting to infiltrate our ranks.”

Your blood ran cold. Frozen over in your veins. Forever grateful were you that you were excellent at maintaining your composure. Otherwise you would have panicked.

Taeyong stood at the far end of the pair. You had heard numerous things about him, but you were left gasping for air every time you saw him in person. If looks could kill, you would’ve been six feet under. Taeyong continued, “I’m sure you can guess why this is an urgent problem for us. It is my direct responsibility to protect the identities of those that put their faith in this gang and ensure their confidentiality. Now that we have a cop meddling in our affairs, that complicates things.”

That was to put it simply. The police infiltrating their territory was a direct threat imposed to the future of the empire. The moment the diplomacy was dismantled, so was the entire gang. Bloodlust in itself was intended to be an enigma. The purpose of hiring hitmen and establishing them by individual aliases was to deliberately make it difficult to link crimes to the gang. In return, your genuine identities were concealed. There was too much at stake to remain idle.

You supposed it made sense that Mark was kind to you. That made it easier to gain people’s trust. Though in the underworld, it made you look suspicious. Which led you to another question; if he was benevolent to you, did that mean you were specifically targeted?

You leaned forward in your chair and asked, “What does he know about the gang?”

“That’s where we hit a dead end,” said Ten, frustrated thoroughly. Whatever information they were relaying to you was everything they knew themselves. “Since he engaged with you, we considered that he might have a lead on you. If that’s true, most likely he’ll interact with you again given the opportunity.”

That didn’t alarm you. For most of your life, you’d lived on the edge, and that was especially true when you were a member of those prior street gangs. If your old friends sold you out, you wouldn’t be surprised. Yuta informed you early on that Bloodlust could keep your future under lock and key, though not your past.

But you were very suspicious. They wanted something out of you, that much was clear. Something significant. There was no other reason why the leader himself was before you. Though what?

“With all due respect, I don’t understand my involvement in this.”

Taeyong was straightforward. “We want you to play along.”

You nearly gawked. “Excuse me?”

He wasn’t the least bit bothered by you and continued, “The best way to fight fire is with fire. If Lee Minhyung wants to use you as his means of conveying intel, then let him, but lead him astray while doing so.”

In short, they wanted you to give Mark false information. Which steered far from your line of work. Why they chose you for the job in spite of having people actually equipped for the task was a mystery. Yuta was not kidding when he said that you signed yourself up for additional labor the moment you killed somebody.

Frowning, you tried to stave them off. “You’re just gonna send a girl with no prior experience into the wild?”

“Must I remind you that we have full access and authority to all of your history stored in our records?” Ten sneered in amusement. “Think of it as a resume. It’s been a few years, but yours was very memorable. This wouldn’t be your first mole job.”

That was true. Anyone recruited to work for the gang was required to give a complete rundown of their history. Even recruits like you that didn’t respond to them directly. They made it very clear that lying would have put you in an early grave; Bloodlust had eyes everywhere.

“And you wouldn’t be uncompensated. I’ll triple your pay,” Yuta added.

That had your undivided attention. “I’m listening.”

Yuta fought a snicker. He expected nothing less. “We know that this isn’t what you usually do, but the job is very simple. It’s expected that he’ll try to extract information from you, so give him the wrong info. At the same time, try to figure out what he knows and what he wants. There’s a motive behind him targeting you and until we can confirm otherwise, we have to assume you’re his prey and he has valuable intel in his possession.”

“Why not just kill him upfront?”

“He might be valuable,” came Ten’s reply. “Whatever he knows, it’s safe to assume that he isn’t the only one.”

“We will be closely monitoring the entire empire for any turncoats, but he’s not alone. He has a partner,” warned Taeyong with a hefty stare. “So you have to be cautious about what you say to him.”

Ten began to get impatient and said, “So, do we have a deal?”

Tapping the arms of the office chair, you pretended to mull the proposition over although you had already made your decision. If their motive in collectively ganging up against you was to make you feel pressured into agreeing, you were almost inclined to decline the offer out of pure spite. But the genuine interest you had in the assignment discouraged you. There was too much at stake to play games.

There’s no good reason to decline, you decided halfway through the offer. Exposing yourself to law enforcement might’ve seemed too risky, but law enforcement potentially exposing you was even riskier. And you were no stranger to games of deception. Devising devious stratagems was one of the first skills you acquired.

You feigned indifference and replied, “Fine. I’ll play make-believe with the boy with a death wish.”

Yuta failed to resist his snicker this time, but it was true. Bloodlust gained its name for a special reason. For over a decade they had climbed their way to the top and were successful because they had no mercy for those that crossed them. You had faith that this was going to end with Mark having a bullet put through his brain.

After all, he wouldn’t be the first. Just another casualty.

Ten smiled, satisfied. His smile was alluring though likely deceptive, although you expected nothing less from the head of Bloodlust’s criminal agents himself. You had a feeling he was the one that suggested cornering you. “Good. You’re probably already aware that I administrate the spy squad. You won’t be working for me per se, but Jaemin and I will serve as your resources.”

Jaemin was another high-rank, the hacker and leader of their general technology team. If you ever thought you had hid a file or record from him; think again. In all your years of working for Yuta, you had never even caught a glimpse of the man’s face in person. He could only be spotted somewhere with a signal yet caved away.

You left that room with a mission. Jaemin had ID’d Mark’s partner and sent you a full report on them. Lee Minhyung, twenty-three, one of the youngest in his division and yet one of the most accomplished. He had spent merely three months undercover to overthrow a drug empire, and now he was scouting the big shots. Lee Jeno, twenty-two, and fresh out of the training program. There wasn’t much on him, obviously, but according to his evaluations, he had ambitions and was following in Mark’s footsteps.

Frankly, you were impressed. The reason neither of them had been detected until now was because they signed up the rightful way. No one suspected anything was amiss because their department created fake ID’s and hid their authentic ones. Nothing that Jaemin couldn’t find, though.

Needless to say, you had your work cut out for you.

The next time you saw Mark Lee was at another street race event. According to Jaemin, Mark and his partner were fresh recruits and had only been present for a few days at best, though he had quickly decided that the races were his favorite hunting grounds.

For a cop, Mark was remarkably easy to spot in a crowd, but he was playing the criminal role well enough. He had red hair that burned brightly and dressed the flashy part. You had yet to see him without a Cuban link.

You approached him and greeted, “‘Sup, Markie.”

Mark raised a brow. “Markie?”

“Do you not like it?” you asked, smiling innocently. You inched in on him, but left a safe distance between you two. The last thing you wanted was to make him uncomfortable by invading his personal space. “How about Marco? Or Markus? Even better - Little Red Riding Hood.”

Mark snickered. “Markie is fine. Thank you, Tony Stark,” he quipped.

“MCU fan?”

“You bet.”

He genuinely piqued your interest at that. Maybe pretending to like him wouldn’t be so hard. You breathed, “I love you already.”

He laughed. Then concern washed over his face. “Hey, your face okay?”

“Yup,” you replied, giving him a thumbs up. “I got it checked out like you said. Nothing broken or fractured. It’s a little sore, but I’ll be good as new in a couple days.”

“You’re a tough cookie,” he complimented.

You chortled. “So I’ve heard.”

With a broad smile, Mark continued, “That was one hell of a punch you landed on that dude, though. Knocked the guy flat on the ground. Where’d you learn how to fight like that?”

Here came the invasiveness. You decided to be as vague as possible about your past - and current - gang affiliations. You shrugged. “The streets. Polished my skills in the fighting ring, though.”

“There’s a fighting ring?”

“Oh, no wonder I’ve never seen you around these parts before. You’re a total newbie,” you laughed, shaking your head.

“It’s only my fourth day out here,” Mark told you. Which was the truth. You were very unsurprised to find he was taken under the drug trafficking operation, which was ran by Jisung. “Yo, I never caught your name.”

You gave Mark your name, although you had a feeling he already knew. Jaemin and Ten were actively working together to uncover everything the unit had on you and the gang.

“I can show you the ropes,” you offered. Given where he stood, you knew those words alone had him hooked on you. It was safe to assume the drug empire was his primary, but offering him the gang’s additional means of money-making on a silver platter would have any officer’s mouth watering. “Take you on a tour. The gang has plenty of places to kill time while simultaneously making hella cash off of them.”

Mark’s eyes gleamed with intrigue. “Smart business. I might just take you up on that.”

“Bloodlust is all about smart business,” you remarked. Then, you began to do some prying of your own. It wasn’t all that risky to give up some of their territory, but everything came with a price. “Say - who did Boss put you under?”

“The Jisung guy. Drugs.” Mark shrugged. “Nothing major. They don’t trust newbies directly with the hardcore shit, and for good reason. But he told me that it’ll pay well, and if I stick around long enough, I can work my way up.”

Of course, it paid very well. No matter how low-ranking the position. They were trafficking illegal drugs and substances. It was one of their most lucrative branches.

You also hadn’t failed to notice how Mark mentioned that if he stayed long enough, he could work his way higher. That was common knowledge, though you doubted he was unaware of how problematic leaving a gang was. He had the prior experience, and even on his last mission he didn’t vacate the syndicate until he successfully seized the ranks. In other words, he wasn’t withdrawing until he had shot the entire gang down by its very heart and core.

Which was the inner circle.

That was a pressing reminder to keep your guard up. Though Mark seemed likable, it was very intentional. You knew he wouldn’t hesitate to persecute you to the highest extent of the law and you would maintain that same lack of mercy.

You played along, bobbing your head. “Met the boss yet?”

Mark shot you a wince. “Not formally. And I’ve heard around that the less I see of Lee Taeyong, the better. What’s up with that?”

“Taeyong likes to deliver his messages up close and personal,” you cautioned. “He only comes out if absolutely necessary. Getting a personal message from the big boss only happens if you’re going around wreaking havoc.”

“No warning?”

You smiled, but the sinister undertone in your voice was very evident, “If he sends anyone else but himself, that is a warning.”

You didn’t feel pressured to make your insinuations very subtle, because you were Mark’s only hope. The gangsters weren’t exactly inviting. They were very cynical, tight-lipped, and kept small circles because another one of the most important rules was confidentiality and they dreaded facing exposure.

For the most part, people who received direct messages from Taeyong didn’t make it out alive. For that reason, you did not underestimate Mark, but you were certain he had underestimated the gang. Even if you hadn’t discovered him yourself, they would have in approximately the same amount of time.

Mark showed no fear and kept the conversation light-hearted, but the glimmer in his eyes suggested he took that as a challenge. “Then, I’ll make sure to be on my best behavior.”

Liar, you scoffed. He was very much going to wreak havoc. He already had.

“You better. I’d hate to see a face like yours gone so soon,” you flirted, to which Mark grinned and cocked an intrigued brow. He was handsome, you had to give him that. Then, you decided to change the topic. “You like cars, Markie?”

He pretended to frown. “Is it obvious?”

“As far as I know, you’ve spent at least half your nights at these races. There has to be a reason,” you said, then resorted back to flirting, “Unless, you just come to look at me all night.”

“You are quite the extravaganza,” Mark played along, matching your energy. Much to your amusement. “I’m more of a bike guy, but I like anything shiny and nice.”

“We’re gonna get along just fine,” you quipped. “Wanna race?”

“For real?”

“For real,” you repeated, smiling. “They start in a little bit. You strike me as the type of guy that likes all things thrill and exhilaration.”

Mark broke into a tiny snicker. “Lucky guess. You any good?”

You shrugged. “Dunno. Guess that’s for you to figure out,” you teased. Then, began to make your escape. Granted, you knew he wouldn’t let you slip away so easily.

Mark, tantalized, trailed behind you. Hopping in a speeding car with someone as good as a stranger seemed rash, but he had a feeling that you knew what you were doing. Absolutely none of this was foreign to you.

Boy with a death wish was an apt description for Mark.

Upon your last-minute entry, you took him to the garage to pick up your ride. To say the least, Mark nearly dropped dead. The sight of your bright red Bugatti Chiron positively made him gape. “Holy shit,” he exhaled.

You giggled. “She’s hot, isn’t she?”

“Like hellfire. Aren’t these like, hella expensive?”

You bobbed your head. “She’s hell to repair. But my baby deserves the best.”

Mark continued to marvel. “Dude, you gotta let me drive one day.”

You laughed, amused, but for a completely different reason. Like hell you would let a cop take your car for a spin. It was outrageous enough that you permitted him to take the passenger seat.

Eventually you both went to line up for the races. Mark was still completely astonished, glancing around your two-seater with total awe and wonder. If you knew that you didn’t have to kill him, you would have found it very cute.

Yuta came by and stuck his head through the window aperture. Which were each rolled down as a safety measure. “You’re racing?”

“Yup,” you sang, smiling wildly. It had been a minute. And you figured that you needed some thrill in your life (unbeknownst to you, Mark was exactly that). “Meet my partner. Mark, meet this guy.”

Yuta rolled his eyes, then droned, “You two have fun.”

“Oh, trust me. Fun is guaranteed with me,” you replied with a wink.

Yuta glanced at Mark and quipped, “Run while you still can.” Then, he ran off.

“You can’t run now,” you said, making eye contact with Mark through the rear-view mirror. “We have a race to win.”

Mark grinned mischievously.

The flagger came into vision, preparing to launch the first race of the evening. You and Mark fastened your seatbelts, then you braced your hand on the steering wheel.

“Ready?” you asked, glancing to your side.

Mark bobbed his head. He seemed relatively relaxed for a first-timer. Honestly, you were beginning to wonder what all he had done in the name of the law. “Born ready.”

You revved the engine, watching the flagger count down with bated breath. Everything felt light. Adrenaline made your blood pump faster, your heart threatening to leap out your chest. This was it. That feeling that made life worth living.

Three, you muttered under your breath. Two, one. You gripped the wheel tighter. Then every nerve in your body chanted, Go, go, go!

And you slammed on the gas, bolting the car forward like lightning.

You sped like the devil. You were going nearly two-hundred miles per hour in a matter of ten seconds. The car roared underneath your fingertips and you knew you were driving a beast, one that had risen from the dead.

“Goddamn,” Mark raised his voice, speaking over the vicious winds that tousled your heads of hair. He was smiling, clinging to his seatbelt for dear life.

You shouted, “Hang on!” And you both accelerated.

You laughed, so carefree. Nothing else mattered when you were on the road and you quickly lost grip of everything that wasn’t the steering wheel clenched firmly between your fist. The road was the only thing capable of holding your attention, and you even occasionally forgot that Mark was beside you until you heard his exhilarated laugh. Every single thought you had left as quickly as it came. Moments were exactly that - moments. No fears, no worries, no nightmares. Just making it across that sweet finish line.

The feeling surging through your veins was inexplicable, but you knew that you weren’t alone in it. Mark could feel it, too. The rush overpowered any sense of threat and adrenaline made you forget what it felt like to breathe. At that moment, it was like breathing on the moon. Almost as if you didn’t need any air.

You wedged past this car and that, until you had made a great distance in front of them all. They were left in the dust.

“You feel that, Markie?” you asked, chest heaving out of pure, unadulterated fever. You could see that typical untamed gleam in his eyes, but heightened.

“Yeah,” he said, nodding. And then he began to crack into a fit of hysterical laughter himself. “Yeah. I can feel it.”

The corners of your lips were in an unfaltering curve. “Let’s win this damn thing.”

Mark was grinning from ear to ear. Never had he ever felt so alive.

The climax of the race was your very favorite. Time lost its meaning and speed became inexhaustible. Air became scarce, as if there was no more left on earth. The tension throttled you and swallowed you whole. And heat reduced you to sweat and fighting breaths.

All you had was momentum, but that was of little threat to you. And Mark.

The distance between the car and the finish line decreased more and more and more. There was practically no one around you, but that didn’t ease your resolve. Resting was not an option until victory was yours.

Mark chanted, “Come on, come on.”

He wanted it as badly as you. If not more. There was nothing for him to gain out of this except experience and yet he seemed immensely content with that.

From the moment you crossed the finish line, time became a blur. All you knew was that you had won and you could feel the achievement in your veins. You only noticed that you were panting when you stepped out of the car, and the crowd flocked towards your vehicle.

“So, what do you think?” you asked Mark, sitting on the hood of your car. “Am I any good, Markie?”

Mark wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, then replied through thick breath, “I think you just gave me the time of my life. Thank you.”

You chortled. Damn right. “The pleasure is all mine.”

Someone cleared their throat and you turned to make eye contact with Lee Jeno. He looked directly at you without hiding his scorn when he spoke, “Sorry to interrupt, but Markie has to go now.”

You didn’t break eye contact with the boy, either, retorting, “Tell your dad that you don’t wanna go, Mark.”

Mark stifled a laugh. “I’m sorry, but I have to,” he said and hopped off the hood of your car. “Thank you for tonight, though. I’m holding you to your word from earlier.”

“I’ve never broken a promise,” you said. Then, you waved. “See’ya.”

Mark hugged you briefly, then bid you goodnight and faded in the crowd with his more than obvious partner.

And you went to pay yours a visit.

Given the hour, Ten was not pleased when you barged into his office, but before he could run his mouth, you shushed him with your finger.

Ten mouthed, “Did you just shush me…”

You removed an object out of your pocket and rested the item flat on his desk. It was a tiny, black wiretapping device. Clearly, somebody thought he was slick, though even in your fit of ecstasy, you were not off-guard.

From the expression he sported, Ten was highly amused by the flagrant audacity of this boy. There seemed to be a telepathic communication between you two, but just to be safe, he mouthed, “Play along.”

Ten said your name and began, “You’re late. Did you hear the news?”

You almost rolled your eyes, but very audibly pulled in the opposing chair to give the impression that you were here for a long, scheduled conversation. Then, you blew out a sigh and replied, “Yeah. Yuta told me Taeyong is considering shifting the gang to China. Damn feds too close on our tail.”

“Don’t fret. It’ll be a walk in the park. China makes up our secondary income - the ascendancy we have there is enough to start fresh.”

The little tale made you smirk. Bloodlust hadn’t branched out in China very much yet.

“I know, but Korea is the only home I’ve known,” you groaned.

Ten was very good at playing along with your bullshit and told you, “That was how I felt when I came to Korea from the States. Listen, you’re gonna be homesick as a bitch. But you won’t be alone and that’s what matters.”

If this was a genuine conversation, you would have been touched. “Thanks, Ten.”

Ten drummed his fist against the wall to mimic the sound of someone knocking on a door, then rose and said, “That must be him. Come on.”

The two of you stepped into the corridor. Where, obviously enough, nobody awaited either of you. Ten shut the door and moved a great distance away from his office before he decided you were both in the clear.

As soon as you were in private, both of you began to giggle. Ten quipped, “Sure you don’t wanna work for me?”

You snickered. “I’m more than content with Yuta, thank you.”

“I have to commend you for your performance back there,” Ten told you, sincere. “Most people wouldn’t have even caught that they were bugged. That could’ve been bad. It’s impressive.”

“Likewise,” you replied. It was in your best interest to steer Mark’s team off course, if possible. They’d learn one way or another to mind the business that paid them.

Ten grabbed a tiny stick-like item from his pocket and pressed a red button at the bottom end of the device.

You furrowed your brows. “What’s that?”

“Bug detector. Jaemin made it for me,” he told you. Then, a red light beamed from the device, and Ten scanned you from head to toe. After a brief moment, he said, “You’re in the clear. I’ll take care of the bug. Did you learn anything else tonight?”

You nodded. “He knows Taeyong is the leader. I let him ask most of the questions tonight, but I’ll have my turn later. I’m posing as a friend that’s going to show him around.”

“Take him where you want.” Ten glanced at his watch. “I expect more from you by the end of the week.”

“Yes, sir,” you replied. Obviously, he had somewhere to be. “Goodnight.”

Throughout the week, you and Ten continued to use the wiretapping bug to your advantage. Faking conversations, making up false plans about the future of the gang. It was, more or less, a taunt.

Just as Ten expected of you, you had additional information to deliver by Saturday morning. Mark was no easy task, but where his partner was concerned, you learned things easily. For one, most of your identities were definitely known. Jeno was not sparing with his disdainful glares whenever he came across high-ranks.

Much less you, for that matter. Which made you wonder exactly what role you played in this situation, but that was still inconclusive. You assumed it was because you had direct ties to the second-in-command, but you merely did his bidding. Which had nothing to do with the trafficking of illegal drugs.

And Yuta never let you in on the affairs of the gang. It simply never came up. It was none of your business and you didn’t care. As long as they protected you.

Either they had no clue what they were doing, or they were looking to make a very big bust.

The following Monday, you marched straight into housing clad in dolphin shorts and a white t-shirt and knocked on Mark’s door. Very relentlessly given it was two in the morning.

Mark yelled, “I’m coming!” from somewhere across the apartment. When he opened the door, he squinted, half-awake. But positive that he was dreaming. “How the hell…”

You snickered. “You aren’t very hard to find, Markie. This is where the newbies that don’t have their own place live - I would know. Boss gave me access to the housing info.”

“Stalker,” he snarled insincerely, voice husky. It did something to you, but you would never admit it.

Instead, you rolled your eyes. It was very ironic, all things considered. He was going out of his way to investigate you and your boss’ friends. “Yeah, yeah,” you said, inviting yourself in. “Hurry up and get ready. We’re going to the ring.”

Mark’s eyes widened. “Shit, right now?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Shit. Let me go brush my teeth and change.”

Glancing around the apartment, there was nothing immediately suspicious or out of the ordinary. Just slightly messy. It looked very lived in.

Less than fifteen minutes later, you and Mark were out the door and on the road. The late night and early morning breeze was very comforting. Just traveling lightly on the road while the sun was still down was one of your favorite things to do.

Mark spoke teasingly over the radio, “Do you barge into people’s houses and homes to go fight very often?”

Unabashedly, you giggled. “No, actually. But I am very notorious for walking around like I own the place. You’re lucky enough that I had no choice but to knock.”

“You mean, beat the door in.”

“Did not,” you countered.

“No, you did,” he said. “You probably woke up everybody else on the same floor.”

You smarted and retorted, “Please. They should come watch me kick your ass.”

Mark was very amused by your confidence. “I’m gonna make you eat those words, doll.”

“Hit me with your best shot.”

He took the challenge. “Loser buys breakfast?”

You grinned smugly. “You’re on.”

The road led you to some bar with an enormous flickering neon light that displayed the name of the establishment. Despite the late hour - and how shady the exterior of the building appeared - the parking lot wasn’t empty.

With your finger, you signaled for Mark to follow behind you and entered the bar. Much to Mark’s surprise, your attire fitted right in with the lack of crowd. Most were sweaty and gulping glasses of water at the bar.

Mark cocked a brow and said, “I thought we were going to the ring.”

“We are,” you responded, fighting a smile. The bartender didn’t spare either of you a glimpse when you led him behind the counter and through the double doors.

You were met with a tiny hallway. There was a kitchen door on one end, but you brought him towards the other. It seemed much more exclusive than the others, no double doors or easy access. You placed your finger on the biometric lock and it clicked open.

“Woah,” Mark gasped.

You giggled and went into the empty room with a ring in its center. In contrast to the others, it was dimly lit by beams of neon red lights. There was another bar at one end and chairs and tables arranged elsewhere. “The private fighting room,” you announced. “It’s only used by higher-ups and their associates.”

“I just thought of at least eight Fight Club jokes I could make right now and half of them have something to do with Tyler Durden.”

You shook your head. “You’re insufferable. You’d lose your mind if we owned a movie theater.”

Mark smiled bashfully. “Can I talk about this place?”

You glared. But ultimately couldn’t resist bursting into laughter.

“Come on,” you gestured, stepping inside the ring. And he followed suit.

After you both warmed up, you asked, “You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Mark replied without hesitation, eyes burning with sheer confidence. “Gotta warn you, though - I have a blackbelt in taekwondo.”

He wasn’t lying. You remembered seeing something like that in his profile.

“Good for you. I have a blackbelt in kicking Mark Lee’s ass.”

Mark taunted, “I would like to see you try.”

You got into position, holding your arms in a prepared stance. “Don’t go easy on me, Markie. If you couldn’t tell, I like things rough.”

As usual, Mark merely gave you a grin of unadulterated mischief.

The first round played in your favor. It ran more like a practice round if anything - Mark was more focused on becoming accustomed with how you fought than winning. As a result, you knocked him clean out.

Though Mark decided in the next round that he wasn’t playing any games. He had taken mercy upon you before, going easy on you in spite of what you told him, but you knew by now that Mark had a penchant for challenges and loathed losing. You thought that you had him right where you wanted him, but by the end of the match, he had you right where he wanted you.

“I was wrong about you, Markie,” you gasped after tapping out and accepting defeat. “You striked me as a Mama’s boy. The ‘I’d never hit a girl’ type.”

“I love my mama,” Mark grinned. “And of course, I’d never. But you asked for it.”

Mark helped you to your feet and you lightheartedly threatened, “I’m snitching.”

“Whatever you say,” he taunted. “I see why they call you Scar and not Punch.”

In a flash of anger, you lunged at him, but Mark caught you by your wrist promptly. He cocked his head and said smugly, “Cheater. The final round hasn’t started yet.”

The way he stared down your soul unnerved you. It wasn’t typical of you to show fear - and you didn’t - but saying that you were unaffected by his every move would be a blatant lie. Though there was absolutely nothing sinister about Mark. Maybe it wasn’t him that you were scared of. Maybe it was how he made you feel.

That was more dangerous than any threat.

When the next round initiated, you fought like a beast that had emerged right out of hell. There was no way in hell that you would go down without a fight.

This final round was all the more intense. You were convinced that if you had any spectators, they’d be completely exasperated by the suspense. The both of you kept bouncing shy of one another.

It was akin to a seesaw of action. When Mark landed a hit, you landed one harder. When you were above, suddenly Mark knocked you back down again.

“This isn’t over until one of us taps out,” Mark said.

You shrugged. “I can go all night.”

“So can I.”

Neither of you were backing down, that much was clear. It seemed preposterous - getting worked up over an unofficial game - but you were competitive and Mark was ambitious. The most minuscule of things were still another bridge to be crossed to people like you, no matter the size.

You either won or you lost. It was one to one. This was the tiebreaker; the round that made or broke the game. You didn’t mind buying him breakfast, but there was also a part of Mark that was so goddamn insufferable and you would rather not satisfy that insatiable desire of his.

“If you want your victory, come and get it,” you taunted.

“Say less,” Mark said. Then swung.

Courtesy of your agility, you were able to move out of the way. It was better than giving him the opportunity to lay his hands on you, even if you blocked the hit. You learned very quickly that Mark could make you think he was doing one thing and wound up doing another.

You took your chances, not permitting him the chance to realize what you were up to before you danced around his figure and tackled him to the ground.

You straddled him and smirked, pinning his arms firmly above his head. You were very aware of what kind of position you were in, but you weren’t complaining. It felt like you were at your throne at the very top of the world from above Mark.

Mark eyed you down. “Someone’s been doing her homework.”

You clutched even tighter around his wrist the more he spoke. To which Mark grimaced and quipped, “Are you trying to crush my bones or jump them?”

You teased, “Is that what you were dreaming about before I woke you up, Markie?”

“Not quite,” he replied with a chuckle, then switched on a dime. He flipped you over, hovering over you as you lay flat on your back. Instead of pinning your hands above your head like you’d done to him, he went for your throat.

His grip was strong. It wasn’t tight enough to cause you any genuine harm, as if he didn’t intend to hurt you, but you felt as if he could have bruised your throat.

The worst part? You didn’t thoroughly despise the feeling.

Mark leaned directly into your ear, then growled, “Tap out and I’ll let go.”

Resisting, you brought your fingers to his arm, though you swore his grip became firmer the longer you stood your ground. Mark merely stared into your eyes as you began to gasp for air, holding onto breath for dear life.

The way he looked into them, it was almost as if he was searching for something. You supposed Mark wallowed in the look of vulnerability in your eyes, or the life leaving them, but it couldn’t have been as prominent as the bliss etched onto your face. “You’re enjoying this,” he remarked, showing even less mercy with his palms.

When you were on the verge of unconsciousness, you tapped Mark’s arm with your fingers. And only then did his grip loosen.

Mark shook his head when you began to laugh. “You’re fucking crazy.”

Chest heaving, you replied, “I’ve heard that one before. Try harder.”

“You’re a fucking minx,” Mark taunted, voice dropping another octave. “But you know that too - don’t you?”

A provocative smile crept across your face. “I swear I don’t do it on purpose, Markie.”

There was a whirlwind of thoughts rippling around your brain as Mark leaned dangerously close to you. Heat flared through your body in place of your typical cold blood. You seemed to internally debate yourself, but it wasn’t as if you ever had very much of a conscience.

“Do it, Mark. Do it,” you chanted. From the pensive expression he sported, you were confident that half the thoughts in his head were temptingly screaming the same thing.

Mark steered out of his tiny reverie and began, “That guy - Yuta. He’s not your boyfriend?”

You burst into laughter that was on the brink of hysterical. “You’re kidding,” you said. But when Mark showed you no sign of toying, instead stern, you added, “Please. I love Yuta and I’m forever indebted to him, but I’d rather choke on my own blood than date him.”

That was all Mark needed to hear. “Say less.”

In the time that it took for him to close the tiny gap between the two of you, the last of Mark’s reluctance met its end. His mouth crashed against yours in haste, and you moved in a heated sync, swallowing each other’s tongues.

The taste of him drowned out the rest of the world. You forgot that Mark was a predator and you were his prey. You forgot that you were supposed to hunt him down. Each of your limbs tensed tautly with want and your will for pleasure made light work of your senses. You were enthralled by how well of a kisser he was.

Someone you used to know once told you that sex was a tool, love was a poison; combining the two was a one-way ticket to death. All of which slipped your mind completely as you involuntarily began to rasp your hips against his.

Mark grunted so lowly that you were at the brink of succumbing to insanity right then and there.

It was like Mark existed solely to tease the living hell out of you. Being a thorn in your side was what he thrived on. He kept slithering his hand up your thigh, just shy of where you needed him, and you did not miss the smug little grin on his face when you groaned in complaint.

You pulled away from his lips and warned, “Don’t tease me.”

Predictably, Mark was not alarmed. Your threats were of little substance to him. “Dunno, doll. It’s kinda fun to watch you get all worked up.”

Deciding to take matters into your own hands, you grabbed Mark’s wrist and slipped it down your shorts. You made a tiny noise when his fingers brushed over your clothed cunt, then purred, “Feel that, baby? Could be all yours if you stopped playing games.”

And with that, Mark was sold.

The both of you ran suspiciously out of the bar. You willed yourselves not to touch each other in front of anyone’s prying eyes, but the way you rushed out said enough.

You decided on going to Mark’s place. There was nothing to hide at yours because you refused to bring work home with you, but your address was sensitive information. Sleeping with someone never prevented them from betraying you and nor did it invoke an unbendable bond to be broken in the first place.

But the moment you stepped inside Mark’s apartment, it was game over. You couldn’t stay away from one another, stumbling over his belongings as you made out while stripping along the way to his bedroom and leaving a trail of clothes in your wake.

You wondered exactly how long this desire had been pent up. Maybe you suppressed it out of priority for your jobs, but it had expanded into something unignorable now. The tiny sparks became a full-fledged forest fire.

Mark pushed your naked figure against his mattress and gave your now-naked body a once-over. “I never realized how many tattoos you have,” he rasped.

There was also a huge scar on your stomach. He had caught glimpses of it during your fight, but the full sight made him curious. Alas, now wasn’t the time to ask questions.

“Mm,” you hummed, stifling a giggle. “If you do a good enough job, I might tell you the stories behind them.”

“Then, I hope you’re ready to talk,” he said confidently.

You arched a brow. “You talk a big game, but aren’t showing me what you’re made of.”

Mark gripped your thighs apart and at the sight of your dripping cunt, he growled, “Just watch. You’re going to be a mess by the time I’m done with you.”

Before you could offer another retort, Mark pushed his head between your legs and began to have at it.

A little sigh eased past your throat when you felt his tongue lap at your folds. His mouth was warm against the flesh, heat spreading in waves throughout your body and core. You willed yourself to keep your reactions to a minimum, not wanting to give Mark the satisfaction of seeing you at your very worst.

Eyeing him from the bed, you basked in the sight of him devouring you like a five-star meal. Your arms were propped by his pillows very comfortably. You watched him swallow you whole, his veins becoming taut as his grip on your upper legs became ruthless and his wavy red hair tickled your plush thighs.

You were in heaven, needlessly to say. Mark sucked at you without a shred of mercy. No matter how much you liked a boy, you never tended to keep your expectations as high as your standards when it came to bedroom performance and going down on you, but Mark was full of surprises. True to his word, you were somewhat certain that at this rate, you would be a mess by the time that he was finished with you.

“Fuck,” you mewled when he started to lick and suck at your clit.

Mark smirked against your folds. He was going to be the death of you.

Each of your attempts to remain quiet were defiled by your more than loud moans, though you couldn’t bring yourself to be bothered. It was as if Mark knew exactly how to push your buttons (and which buttons to press).

Meanwhile, Mark’s mind was ablaze with thoughts of you. The sight of your body would be indefinitely etched behind his eyelids. Your intricate tattoos that told various tales across your perfect skin, and your plush thighs that tensed whenever he brushed your clit.

You could feel your pulse throbbing in your core. Your thighs trembled, your hips involuntarily moving against Mark’s mouth to derive as much pleasure as possible. It seemed desperate, but you were reduced to fire and bones in no time at all. All you knew how to do was ravage everything in your course to feed your flame. And Mark was hellbent on ravaging you.

You clutched Mark’s hair and cried out, “Mark.”

He seemed to rejoice in how utterly responsive and reactive you’d become, unable to defy your body’s demanding urges. It was impossible. And your reactions only fed him, spurring him on to milk you completely dry.

You swore you felt nothing but sheer thrill. It was comparable to the high you received from racing. The way nothing else mattered, and all your focus was so centered on one particular thing that you couldn’t think of anything else. You were enticed by danger and entrusting Mark with power over your body was a great enough threat.

Mark was way too attracted to everything about you. Tasting you and watching you lose your grip of control on his tongue only amplified that allure with the addition of arousal. To hell with his job if it meant that he could spend one more moment with you in his mouth.

Maybe he was attracted to danger, too. You and danger tended to go hand in hand, but so did danger and his lifestyle. There was a reason why he wasn’t afraid of you.

“Just like that, baby. Oh my god,” you moaned, angling your head back. For the sake of your pride, you tried to desperately cling to whatever remained of your sanity, but Mark was resolved on unraveling you.

Your sounds became louder and Mark discerned that you were on the verge of release. If you hadn’t awakened his neighbors when you gave his door hell earlier, they were certainly now contemplating filing noise complaints.

Mark separated himself from you ever so briefly and growled, “Come on, doll. Do it for me.”

The little pet name never invoked much thought from you. You assumed he wanted compensation for the nickname you’d dropped on him, and thus let it slide. But in that moment, it made you weak - and you loathed pet names.

This was going to bring it home. Every nerve in your body was tense and uptight. Your fingers and toes tingled with the threat of release, heat spasming in your core and the palms of your hands.

You climaxed in a fit of unadulterated pleasure, tightening your grip on Mark’s red locks and convulsing by reflex. You practically curled in on yourself, every bit of you clenching emptily as fervor shot through your body. Mark didn’t grant you the mercy of letting you ease through your climax, unrelenting as he continued to suck and lick at your pussy ruthlessly.

Mark brought you to a second orgasm in half the amount of time it took to achieve the first one, and only then did he crawl away and let you breathe. You heaved shallow breaths, blinking through the rise and fall of your chest. Never had you felt anything so intensely. You were milked completely dry.

Mark didn’t comment, but his words were heavy through the signature glimmer in his eyes. And smile tugging the corners of his lips. “So, am I getting that bedtime story?”

You replied through heavy breaths, “Take your pick.”

He snickered.

Mark licked his lips and thus your arousal from his mouth. You shot up and straddled him, wasting little time in sucking at his neck. Mark shook his head. “Jesus, woman. Do you rest?”

Stifling a laugh, you purred, “I regenerate quickly.”

That didn’t surprise Mark in the slightest. He could have guessed. “Good to know.”

Pressing kisses to his neck, you began to rock against his hips, feeling his hard cock through the confines of his underwear. You anchored yourself on his shoulders and teased, “Shouldn’t we do something about this problem of yours?”

Mark angled his head back. “Fuck, yeah,” he groaned.

You pushed his chest down in a successful attempt to knock him backwards and his back met the mattress. But the kisses never ended, and you found it nearly impossible to tear yourself from his skin. Until you felt him involuntarily thrust against your hips, needy.

“Patience,” you sang. Granted, you didn’t have much of your own, either. The way he brought you to another world and back only moments ago had you desperate to recreate the feeling.

You lifted your purse off of the nightstand not too out of reach from you and retrieved a condom. For good reason, you figured Mark wouldn’t have any.

Mark cocked a brow. “You keep those on you?”

Of course, you did. You preferred to be safe over sorry. Not to mention that your hookup who shall not be named tended to forget them. Deliberately. You subconsciously smirked. “Mind the business that pays you,” you murmured, dragging his underwear down his ankles. And fitting the condom over the head of his cock.

You and Mark let out a simultaneous noise of bliss as you rolled onto him. His hands found purchase at your hips while yours pressed featherly against his stomach. You took him inch by inch, leisurely making your way down as your cunt opted to easily swallow him whole.

Mark nearly lost his mind being engulfed by your heat. His fingertips dug almost painfully into your waist for mental anchor, supporting himself with all his might. For goodness sake, you were so tight. It didn’t help that you still leaked with arousal from your previous two orgasms, even more sensitive from them. The moment you were snug around his cock, he felt you clench.

“Mm, Mark,” you moaned, rocking against him at your own pace. You took the lead, following your own rhythm and Mark didn’t have it in him to stop you. Hell, not that he wanted to.

This was, for lack of a better word, a very bad idea. But neither of you seemed to care. It felt forbidden - doing as much as even thinking about each other so lecherously, but that was half the fun. Neither of you could restrain the lascivious thoughts that ran rampant through your minds when you caught a glimpse of your naked bodies or heard a lewd noise.

The other half, of course, was the actual fucking.

And when Mark heard you call out his name, it took all his willpower to not finish himself right then and there. Not Markie - Mark. He steered dangerously close to release at the mere sound of your honey-like voice.

Mark found it in himself to tease, “Enjoying yourself up there?”

“Like a queen on her throne,” you retorted.

He certainly made you feel like royalty, that was for sure. You felt worshiped by his tongue. Now, you were at reign over his body. And all Mark could do was lie there and behold you as if you were a royal immortal deity.

There was a moment that passed where he considered throwing it all away for you without a second thought. You were a lethal weapon of temptation; that Mark knew, yet he was disposed to capitulate to you. As if you’d lulled him into a fatal trance with the very grace of your body alone.

Though your every move was unpredictable, Mark didn’t know what to expect when you leaned closely to his neck. But it certainly wasn’t for you to bite at the skin. He let out an embarrassing whine at the feeling of your teeth leaving marks and tiny remnants of you on his throat.

You arched a brow. Then, teased, “Whine for me again, Mark.”

“Shut up,” he grumbled.

Your lips brushed ever so gently against his and you tauntingly whispered, “Make. Me.”

As aforementioned, Mark was comprised of surprises. His hands rose from your waist to your bouncing tits and he thrusted up, achieving a whimper of surprise from you.

He smirked at the way your face tensed with pleasure and your fingers grasped his biceps for dear life. “Holy fuck,” you cried, clinging to him as if you’d sink into the pits of the earth otherwise. He kept fucking you from below, watching you intently as he admired his handiwork with complacency.

He sneered, “Whine for me again, doll.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you hissed.

Mark snickered. Now where had he heard that before?

The softest of moans parted your lips as Mark fondled with your breast and his hands eventually rose, fingers clawing around your throat. He missed seeing that look in your eyes. The one of air depleting itself from your lungs and the blood circulation ceasing to flow and the pleasure sparkling a tiny gleam.

You satisfied his urges, face blanching the longer he held his grip. And the tighter. Mark very much could have done as he pleased with you, but you knew he’d never let this go too far. Just enough to have you at the verge of blacking out.

Although you were remotely dizzy when he released you from his clutch, you liked it. You never quite noticed it before, but there was a fiery gleam in Mark’s eyes when he choked you. Something sinister. There was an animal in him that had gone dormant for far too long and you’d finally aroused the beast.

And you were the only one to date that had seen it and didn’t flee.

The two of you were dangerously close to climax. With how close in proximity your bodies were - combined by every thrust and grind - there was no way on earth either of you couldn’t tell. You began to rasp your hips against his cock in a vigorously synchronized motion, desperate for the heat of the friction that made you tingle. Piece by piece, you were breaking into rupture.

Mark was no better. Just looking at you had him dangling over the edge. Dangerously. It would only take one little slip before he fell depthlessly into a pit of you that seemingly had no top and no bottom. Just you, only you.

“Let go for me, doll,” Mark ordered softly, trying to coax you into an orgasm. “You’ve been doing so good for me.”

His mouth and hands knew no boundaries when it came to your body. They roamed you, his tongue slithering around your nipple and his hands roughly finding purchase on your ass. You were also very sensitive in areas where your tattoos lived, he learned, and used that knowledge to his advantage. Mark was single-handedly going to destroy you.

“Let go,” he sang again, gentle and tempting.

You began to tighten around him involuntarily. It was coming. “I’m…”

Mark held you firmly. “Cum for me, baby. I’ve got you.”

You saw stars when you came for the third time, orgasm hitting you in full force. It was nothing short of intense. You clamped around Mark, walls tight around him as well as your grip on his biceps. Your thighs shuddered with climax, and a shrill cry erupted from your lips.

Mark grunted, “Fuck.” The feeling of you pulsing around him undoubtedly sent him down a similar fate. His hands fell to your hips and held them to the point of bruising.

After you rode out the rest of your high, you slacked. You lied against his warm chest, feeling him breathe rapidly as you desperately clung to your own breath.

“Do you feel okay?”

“I feel great,” you heaved. “Do you wanna stop?”

Mark faintly smiled at how much endurance you had. “Nope.”

You rode Mark until sunrise.

When both of you roused again, the clock had already ticked past noon. You made room for another, much lazier round, and settled for brunch instead of breakfast.

Then you split and went your own separate ways. You waltzed straight into Bloodlust’s headquarters. Given you were channeling all of your focus into this Mark mission, your schedule was indefinitely clear of all else. Which left you with leeway to choose someone to vex.

You stepped into Yuta’s office without knocking, yet before you could get a word out, he barked, “Did you come here to tell me that you’re sleeping with the enemy?”

Blinking, you resisted a frown. And said nonchalantly, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Lying to a high-rank. Wrong move. And also impossible to get away with.

Yuta shook his head, scowling. “Jisung said that he saw you both running out of The Lion’s Den. Disorderly. And something told him it wasn’t because of a fight.”

Park Jisung, when I get my hands on you, you bristled inwardly. You never did get along with that boy. On more than one occasion, you had to be separated so that you wouldn’t kill each other.

You rolled your eyes and sat across from your boss. With light humor, you replied, “Please. If anything, I have Mark right where I want him.”

“Don’t walk into a trap,” Yuta warned.

Traps were laid by people like you, not the opposite. You were many things and stupid was not one of them. Just another casualty, you told yourself. That’s all Mark was. You refused to allow him to become anything more. “If you’re done, I have something. Mark thought that I was your girlfriend - what if that’s the connection? He’s using me to get to you.”

“That’s possible,” Yuta sobered. “But he would have to know that you wouldn’t snitch on your lover. I’d kill both you and him with my bare hands.”

“Terrifying,” you deadpanned. “Has Ten or Jaemin been able to get in?”

Yuta gave a shake of his head and drawled, “Nope. They’ve got that unit on lock. Apparently drugs are super sensitive information.”

Blowing out a breath, you turned pensive. They were hiding something, obviously. You were half-tempted to march up to Mark and demand he tell you everything he knew, but it was too risky of a move. Though it wasn’t like he had gotten many leads through you, and there had to be something keeping him joined at your hip.

But what?

At first, you considered that maybe you’d given away more than you realized, yet nothing you told him was incriminating enough to arrest anyone with a drug trafficking charge. Hell, if that was the case, Jisung would have led you all to demise already.

“I can hear your gears turning. Stop thinking,” Yuta quipped, steering you out of your reverie. He could never stay mad at you - or serious - for very long. “Listen, babe. Just keep him at bay. If we make no progress, we’ll bring out the extremes. Everything will be perfectly fine.”

You nodded. “Perfectly fine,” you repeated.

Everything was not perfectly fline.

During the past couple of weeks, things had taken a sharp turn between you and Mark. You intended to leave him for dead after that first hookup, yet the more time you spent together, the more each of you burned with lust.

And so it happened again. And again. And you lost track of how many times you’d slipped away to fuck Mark and suck on his tongue.

Of course, the quality of the sex never declined. You were both pleased and enraged at the fact that Mark had range. Every time you both hooked up, the only thing that stayed consistent was the want that shot through your core. For fuck’s sake, he just had to be a man of variety.

In a nutshell, you were completely fucked.

There was an event at the gang’s casino and you snagged Mark as your date. As if anyone else would risk it. You were the only one crazy enough to personally involve yourself with a cop.

Which, you tried to erase from your memory. There would come a day where he’d try to send you away in cuffs. And you’d have to kill him before he got the chance.

You shivered at the thought.

“You clean up nice,” you commented when you came to pick him up.

Mark was dressed very pleasantly. The red hair was a stark contrast to the fancy black suit and trousers he sported, though given the semi formal occasion, he abandoned the frivolous style and opted for a neater hairdo. You were approximately three seconds away from forgetting about the goddamn casino altogether.

Similarly, you wore a red gown that flowed down your legs, hair styled elegantly and your face beat. Casinos were very much not your scene, and underneath the dress you kept an armed and poised gun resting ungrudgingly inside of the leather holster at your thigh.

“Thank you, m’lady. You’re very beautiful,” Mark replied, taking hold of your fingers and kissing the back of your hand gently.

You grinned. Then began to snicker when you noticed your heels gave you a couple more inches of height on him.

Mark cocked a brow. “What’cha laughing at?”

“Oh, nothing.”

Obviously, Mark didn’t believe you in the slightest. Though he said nothing, instead leading you to the elevator. “I’m driving,” he told you, leaving absolutely no room for argument.

You furrowed your brows when you saw your keys in his palm. “When the hell did you get those?”

Mark grinned smugly and jiggled the keys. “You should pay more attention.”

You were absolutely affronted. There was no way in hell Mark Lee had caught you off-guard. You folded your arms across your chest and Mark snickered, then pressed a little kiss to your neck to placate you.

As you slipped out of the elevator and into the lobby, you quipped, “Make sure to drive the speed limit and not the speedometer limit.”

Mark opened the door for you, yet retaliated, “You’d know a lot about driving over the speed limit, wouldn’t you?”

“Shush,” you mumbled, fighting a smile.

“I believe the correct answer is ‘Thank you, gentleman.’”

You hardly leaned off of your heels when you swayed towards Mark, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips and purring, “Thank you, gentleman.”

Mark clamped his arm around your waist and said, “Much better.”

There was a grand casino connected to the hotel that the gang owned. They never invested in anything unprofitable. The building was sky-scraping and vivid in the dimming indigo night, its gold exterior oriented to attract the attention of men and women of means. Courtesy of the supplementing hotel, it had valet parking.

As expected, the sight was nothing short of breathtaking. A large glimmering chandelier hung at the front entrance. There were even tinier ones the further you voyaged across the long red carpet, hanging on the sunken ceiling. You were surrounded by tall pillars and arrays of staircases and even the air felt different inside the casino. It was more or less a very marvelous labyrinth of money.

Mark whistled. “Snazzy. You know what this reminds me of?”

“What?”

“Vegas, baby. Vegas!”

You narrowed your eyes. You didn’t want to know what his Letterboxd account looked like. Or introduce him to one, for that matter. Leaning into his chest, you asked, “Ever been?”

“Once. It’s very beautiful.” Just like you, he was tempted to add, but he didn’t want to come off cheesy. “I should take you there one day.”

Mark was a little too good at toying with your heart for your liking. Both of you knew very well that a future with you together did not exist.

And yet your mind blinked with images of you and Mark in Las Vegas. Him showing you around the sin city. Wandering the streets in each other’s arms, laughing and marveling at its beauty with heartfelt awe. You saw his dumb face and his stupid smile and knew that you were over.

After a bit of walking, the two of you finally found yourselves amongst the rest of the gang. The occasion was nothing special; for the most part, they were discussing deals with other groups and further things you didn’t get paid enough to be concerned about. You saw Qian Kun and knew to make a run for it. He saw everything from a business perspective, which was great for the gang - and your paycheck - but agonizingly boring.

And then, you ran into Park Jisung and instantly knew that you should have stayed home.

Sternly, you greeted, “Jisung.”

“You,” Jisung icily greeted, less than pleased to see you.

“I have a name, you know,” you reminded with a scowl.

Jisung didn’t hesitate and shot, “And I’d rather not stain my tongue by saying it.”

“You son of a…”

Mark growled in your ear, “Behave.”

Jisung raised his brow when you switched on a dime and rather quickly composed yourself. Where was this guy when he was having a heated quarrel with you for the umpteenth time? Shutting you up on command? He doubted even Yuta had that kind of power over you.

Worst of all, he didn’t know if that was a blessing or a curse.

“I have to speak with her,” Jisung said, refusing to say your name. Then added, “Alone.”

Mark angled towards you. “Will you be okay?”

Absolutely not. The last time you had a one on one conversation with Jisung, one of you nearly died. It was certainly not a great idea to leave you alone together.

But something told you to nod.

Mark, skeptical, pressed, “You’re going to be good, right?”

“Very classy,” you retorted, despite wanting to be literally anywhere else. You hoped whatever Jisung had to say was of significant value. For him to willingly speak to you, it had to be life-threatening. “I’m going to have a civil conversation with my peer like the two adults that we are.”

“Okay,” Mark replied with scrunched brows, still hesitant. “I’ll be over there with Jeno.”

Throwing both you and your less than lovely coworker another glance, Mark parted and left you to fend for yourself.

As soon as Mark was a safe distance away, Jisung immediately said, “I wouldn’t trust him if I were you.”

Your face immediately puzzled. “What makes you think I trust him?”

Jisung laughed in your face. “Are you for real? For one, you’re fucking. Don’t deny it because I saw you running out of The Lion’s Den, and I know what people who eagerly want to fuck each other look like. I see the way you look at him.”

“Are you worried about me, Jisung?” you quipped. You refused to pay any heed to what he was insinuating. Let alone accept it.

Jisung scoffed, “No. I’m worried about you jeopardizing the future of this gang.”

“That’s rich,” you said, crossing your arms. And trying to identify the cleanest way to insult him. “It wouldn’t be a singlehanded error. You’re literally incriminating us by having him under the drug branch in the first place. You guys let two cops in and didn’t even notice. The only words I should be hearing from you are ‘thank you.’”

“Stop. You’re deflecting, as usual,” he sighed. “Just like the brat mouth you are.”

Instead of giving him a seething response, you gritted your teeth. And bit your tongue. Literally. At some point, you decided he was no longer worth your wasted breath.

Which Jisung noticed and added, “See? I can tell he has a heavy grip on you. This is the first time you’ve ever held your tongue talking to me.”

You had an argument ready to fire, but stopped dead in your tracks when you realized that he was right. Why hadn’t you told Jisung off in vulgar terms yet?

No. It didn’t mean a thing. There was absolutely nothing to it other than you coming to your senses and realizing that bickering with Jisung was - and always had been - utterly pointless. He was obstinate and even after hours of debate, you wouldn’t be anywhere much further than where you started.

Never had you answered to anyone. In spite of working for other people, they knew that you marched to beat of your own drum. There were some traits of yours that were nonnegotiable and they’d either have to accept it or cut you loose.

Ever since you were an infant, you’d carried a reputation. Hell, maybe even before then. You had been called many things in such a short lifetime and an untamable lost cause was likely the least hurtful of them all. Nobody ever believed that anyone as wild as you could be salvaged from the destruction you’d inflicted upon yourself. And hence you began to believe it yourself.

This was the only life that you’d known. It was one where you had no option but to fend for yourself and isolate yourself from the world out of self-preservation. How the hell were you supposed to know how to react to someone sneaking their way inside and making you see life through a different lense?

You had seen so much in your years that you falsely believed that you were numb to fear. But you had never been so scared of something before; change.

You forced yourself to say, “Have a good night, Jisung.” And made a beeline for Mark. The walls of the enormous building were suddenly beginning to close in on you and you felt as if there was no air in a room full of space.

“I need a breather,” you said to Mark, interrupting his conversation.

Mark gave Jeno a glance, then took your fingers in his and asked, “Where to?”

“The rooftop,” you replied lightly, feeling drained and you’d only just got here.

The two of you stopped by the bar and downed a glass of hard liquor before you made your way to the rooftop. There was an elevator with calming music that brought you to the very top of the building.

You decided that you preferred the rooftop as soon as you stepped onto the terrace. It was lit by purple neon lights and void of people, and the air felt fresh and inhalable. Like a breath of fresh air. There were sofas with tiny tables crammed in between scattered about the floor and even further were glass railings that overlooked the entire shining city.

Even at night, the city was never dead, busy with bustling roads and brightly lit structures. You were certain that that was when it came to life.

Mark embraced you in a back hug and you swore time slowed down. But did your heart always beat this fast when he touched you?

“Talk to me,” Mark exhaled, breathing tickling the back of your neck.

You let his touch warm you. It was a great contrast against the chill breeze that swept over the roof at this elevation. “About what?”

“Anything. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

I like you, you said to yourself. And I’m scared because I don’t know what to do.

You shook your head. “How about I kiss you instead?”

“You could have just said that you want to kiss me,” Mark murmured.

Lightheartedly, you admitted, “I want to kiss you so bad, Mark Lee.”

Mark laughed and whirled you around, pinning you against the nearby wall and meeting his lips to yours. It all happened so fast - just like everything else between you two. Everything lasted both for a second and in perpetuity.

He kissed you until you were stripped bare and empty of every last thought. It felt like magic. How he gained the remedy to instantly put you at ease was a mystery, but you didn’t wonder. You just kept sipping from his poison and inhaling the toxins. There was no hope for you anymore. Mark was withering you away and you were simply letting him.

This was wrong on so many levels and yet you never let that stop you. There were no boundaries. You both took what you wanted and you took what you needed without giving any fucks about who didn’t like it. Desperately did you want to believe that nothing would come between you two.

You bit Mark’s lip and he groaned, nails digging into your waist. Which then prompted a tiny noise to part from your own lips. You were a parallel set of actions. It was strange; you didn’t fight for superiority, you fought to be even and equal.

There was something different in the kiss after you bit Mark. As if he’d been injected with an animalistic venom. The tempo increased and you fought to keep up with his every move, moaning into his lips as his tongue let loose inside of your mouth. His grip got even tighter, as if he was holding you to keep you to himself and himself only. There was no where else that you would run. As ironic as it was, you felt safest in Mark’s arms. He was the haven you never had.

Then, you heard a noise. You discerned that Mark heard it too, because he pulled away instantly and caged you behind him defensively. And your heart warmed at the gesture, though you needed no savior.

You sighed and pulled your gun from your holster, calling out, “You’ve got until the count of five to come out because if I have to find you my goddamn self, I’ll blow your brains. One. Two. Three…,”

At the third count, Jeno emerged from behind one of the chairs, gun drawn.

You began to snicker and waved him off. “Oh, put that damn thing down. Hit the road, Jack. And don’t let me catch you again.”

Jeno begrudgingly made a move for the door, not failing to cast you an ugly glare before his glance shifted to Mark, who started at his partner bemusedly. He left without a word.

You glanced up at Mark. “Why was your friend spying on us?”

“I was wondering the same thing,” Mark said, tone full of genuine perplexity.

You furrowed your brows. If Jeno was spying on you and Mark without either of your knowledge, what did that mean?

Maybe he didn’t know what was happening between you and Mark.

With a shake of your head, you grabbed Mark’s hand and led him to the glass railing. And he followed you like a moth to light. You propped your arms against the cool glass and called out, “Mark.”

“Hm?” came Mark’s response from right beside you.

You reluctantly tasted the words on your tongue before you asked, “What was your childhood like?”

“I was born under a bridge,” Mark deadpanned. To which you snorted and nudged his side. “But nah. I didn’t have much growing up. My mom got hooked on drugs real bad and she couldn’t take care of me and my brothers, so we moved in with our aunt. She did the best she could to make ends meet, but you know how that shit works. Whole time, my cousin was on the streets. Made a gang. I followed in his footsteps close enough.”

“What happened for you to wind up here?” you asked, listening with interest.

Mark’s face was impassive. “He’d kill me if he saw me right now.”

As vague as that answer was, you understood perfectly.

There was irony in his story. He was a gang member, then became a cop? Though you were aware that he could have legally lied to you as much as he so pleased, you believed that he was sincere. You learned by now that Mark’s eyes said more than his words ever could.

“What about you?” Mark asked. He wasn’t looking at you, eyes trained to the big city before him, but you knew his ears were ready. “How’d you get here?”

“Fasten your seatbelt,” you joked. Mark had already heard bits and pieces of your life via the stories of some of your tattoos, but this was full screen. “I think I’ve been a demon from hell before I even walked the earth. According to what I’ve heard, my family was against my mother having me. There was a huge stigma that came with having a baby at a young age and without a present father figure. She died during the delivery.”

“I’m sorry,” Mark said sullenly.

You shook your head and continued, “Water under the bridge. It doesn’t get better. I’ve been called a killer since the day I was born. It only made sense that I became one. They said that’s all I was, so I ran and turned to the streets and found a new home. I was in and out of gangs and had several sketchy jobs.”

Mark bobbed his head, listening intently.

“There was one gang I thought I would last in. The one I was in before I joined Bloodlust. I even dated one of the members, but he got violent on me one day. I killed him out of self defense. And I got scared, because I knew I couldn’t come back to the gang after that. The leader would kill me.”

“Is that when you joined Bloodlust?”

You bobbed your head. “Remember when I told you that I’m forever indebted to Yuta? That’s because he saved my life. Took me under his wing and gave me another job and somewhere safe to stay. That’s why we’re so close.”

“Jesus Christ,” Mark said, taking it all in. “You’ve been through hell and back.”

“You’re telling me,” you groaned.

Peace was not a word of any value to you. You’d never known what it felt like. The only thing you knew was survival. It was kill or be killed; hunt or be hunted. Life, in your definition, was a series of bad options and choosing the one that was the least loathsome.

After all, you did what you could to live another day. It was never easy, but you learned everything you knew about survival through those everyday choices. You fought for your life every goddamn day and knew nothing different.

It was a battle of strength that required all of your willpower to not succumb.

You blinked when Mark pulled you into a hug. He enjoyed talking to you. Life as either of you’d known it was a bitch, but getting to know you and all you’d been through brought you closer. And all he wanted to do was hold you underneath the moonlight and ease the pain of your scars.

For the most part, the inner circle knew your history, though not from an emotional perspective. The only people you’d ever given an emotional account to were Yuta and now Mark. Yuta was firm on assuring you that yesterday would no longer matter if you worked for him, but Mark made you feel less alone.

Mark was clawing you out of your armor and defenses. You were stripped bare and vulnerable. There was still so much left unseen and for you to explore in this life.

The two of you chatted the night away below the depthlessly starry sky and above the bustling city. You talked about everything under the sun and moon while being sure to share a kiss or two in between. It made you realize that in such a large world, you and Mark were simply two people with a story to share.

But as the time ticked away, the kisses became more frequent and more passionate. You became less interested in the casino and more enamored with Mark. Somewhere along the line your self-restraint snapped into two, and you found yourselves calling it a night and reserving a room at the hotel.

It wasn’t any less lavish than the casino. Especially not the suite you booked. There was a hot tub in the room and a balcony extended out the side with yet another picturesque view of the city.

Plus, it was a one-bedroom with a single bed.

Mark sat at the edge of the mattress and you wasted no time in straddling his lap and meeting your lips to his. It felt like an adventure. The wild and reckless and lethal type.

You could savor him on you even after. And it was the burning longing to taste Mark again that ultimately brought you three steps forwards and two steps back.

Mark pulled away, guilt-ridden, and reminded, “I’m a cop.”

He didn’t know how he expected you to respond, but you didn’t flinch. Like you already knew and you couldn’t care less. You offhandedly replied, “I know,” and endeavored to kiss him again.

Mark held you in place. His expression turned stern and you blew out an exasperated sigh. You were lightyears away from being ready to have this conversation. “So, you’re sleeping with the enemy.”

“I know. But so are you.”

“I know,” Mark said. Lord, did he know.

“Then,” you began, moving for his neck instead and uttering your words in between tiny pecks and nibbles. “We have nothing to talk about.”

Mark angled your bodies and pinned you down - as if that would stop you - and countered, “We have a lot to talk about.”

Frustrated, you incredulously groaned, “You want to talk about how I’m gonna have to put a round of bullets in your brain in the near future while I’m trying to fuck you?”

Mark scoffed, “You mean, I’m gonna have to hand you in cuffs to the police.”

“I’d like to see you try,” you taunted. It would have been in your best interest to be very careful about what you wished for, though you knew Mark would never. You refused to believe that.

Mark shook his head, laughing. As if he’d read your mind and wholeheartedly agreed that the thought was absurd. “You know I’m crazy about you, right?”

“Prove it.”

Mark leaned down to kiss you for a half of a second, then whispered in your ear, “I will.”

Then, he switched on a dime, and all of the heat and passion of his desire overcame him again.

You were fucking with a Leo; you should have known that you were in for the most wild ride of your life.

Void of patience, Mark clawed at your clothes roughly. You had the whole night, but he stripped you away as if you had only minutes to spare. The whole time, your lips locked in an impassioned kiss as you tried intensely to keep up with the other’s rhythm.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Mark growled. He spoke his mind. It was the first thing he thought every time he laid eyes on you.

The tone of his voice had you seeping with arousal, and to hide your desperation, you flirted, “Fuck me then, handsome.”

Mark grunted. He couldn’t wait anymore. “Do you have a condom?”

“Yes, but I have an IUD,” you added, hoping he’d catch your drift.

Mark blinked in realization. “Fuck. You want me to…”

“Yes,” you groaned, growing more impatient by the minute. “You’re clean, right?”

“Squeaky.”

“Then, hurry up.”

So much for not seeming desperate.

Mark shed his remaining layers of clothing and you licked your lips at the sight of his cock standing at full height against his stomach. Making out with you always got him hard like nothing else on this planet.

You eyed his movements with anticipation. Your body was burning for him to fill the void that he’d created. Like you weren’t complete until he was buried deeply inside you.

Your heart sped as he neared your hole. Mark was nothing if not a tease. He damped himself in your arousal and only pushed in when he heard you whimper, smiling smugly to himself. The first thrust was agonizingly slow. Mark took his sweet time to fit his cock into you, watching your face twist and your breath slow as you took him inch by inch.

There was something about the first thrust that was inexplicably magical to you. Being filled to the hilt with thick heat for the very first time. You held your breath every time.

Then, Mark pulled back out altogether and on cue, you let out an immediate noise of displeasure. “Mark…”

The man in question was firm on reducing you to ash and bones. “Beg,” he growled, leaning low into your ear.

You laughed. As if to tell him he sounded insane. “I don’t beg.”

Mark didn’t blink when he told you, “You do today.” His face was void of all humor and he glanced at you expectantly. He dragged his length on top of your pussy, steering just shy of where you needed him. And it was very intentional.

God, did you try to resist, but Mark had grown familiar with your weaknesses in such a short span of time. Every bone in your body ached for him to fill you. To make you complete once more. It begged to be unabridged and tell him your body’s every secret story. And your pride was a fair compensation.

You stifled a groan and said faintly, “Please.”

“C’mon, doll. You can do better than that,” Mark chided playfully, evidently dissatisfied.

You exhaled a sigh and inhaled your pride. “Please, fuck me, Mark. I can’t wait anymore. I need you.”

Mark teased, “Now, was that so hard?” And before you could provide any commentary, he was burying himself inside you yet again.

It wasn’t very long before you were content again. You let out a sigh of relief when Mark filled you once more, and another when he thrusted out and pushed back inside. His rough hands gripped your hips and he watched the way your cunt swallowed him whole, as if you simply couldn’t get enough of him.

Fuck, you felt like heaven. The way you clamped around him - warm and wet and tight - always set off something animalistic inside of him, but bareback? There was no way in hell he would last.

Mark was only slow to tease you. The moment he exhausted his self-control, he set an uptempo pace. He eyed you like a preying hawk, thinking about how beautiful you were. It was an unshakable thought; you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Eagerly taking his cock like you were made for it or not.

Everything felt so natural with Mark. Nothing was learned nor taught, it was simply second nature for your body to respond to him with ardency and abidance. It came naturally.

“You feel so good,” Mark groaned, giving your thigh a little slap as if to punish you for bringing him to ecstasy. And smirking a little when you let out a tiny cry. “Why do you feel so good?”

You playfully retorted, “‘Cause I’m a goddess.”

Mark nodded. “I believe you.” He brought one of his hands from your hips and ventured your perfect body. Perfect in his eyes. Every spot and curve and scar. And the bruises he’d left, of course. “My Aphrodite.”

You lifted your head a little to clench your teeth into his neck and Mark leaned into you, biting at your shoulder to smother his sounds. Which made you giggle. It always amused you that he was so sensitive to your every touch.

Gosh, you were so goddamn close; skin on skin. Fire wafted over your body, fueled by the flames of his sweltering skin. Sweat beaded at your skin and heat shot through every muscle of your body. The way Mark was pounding into you mercilessly only made you scorch even more. It was impossible to breathe and you loved it. There was no greater feeling than being suffocated by pleasure and arousal.

You locked eyes with Mark and swore you couldn’t feel your pulse. Missionary wasn’t something you did with Mark very often, but you loved to watch his face tense with pleasure. And making prolonged eye contact caused your heart to swell with something unfamiliar. Something vicious and strong that made your entire body ignite with warmth.

The sex was rough and fast, yet intimate. Mark was just the right amount of all three.

Mark loosely gripped your throat and growled, “Tell me you love it.”

You bowed your body into him, moaning, “I love it so much.”

That was the right answer. Mark continued to love you all over. His body never neglected any part of yours, showering you with warmth and pleasure. Like he had nothing but depthless appreciation for you.

The longer Mark fucked you, the less you could think of anything other than him. You forgot about the huge city right outside the balcony. Everyone and everything else melted away and it was only you and Mark chasing the satisfaction of each other’s bodies and love.

Love. You were beginning to accept it. There was nowhere to run and no escape; not when Mark was overwhelming you with heated fervor and passion. He was suffocating you with that forbidden four-letter word.

You were beginning to fall in love with Mark.

If love was a poison, you were sipping to your demise and savoring the taste on your tongue. If combining sex with love was a one-way ticket to death, you’d die in Mark’s arms. There was no place else you’d rather be.

“All mine,” Mark growled, pressing kisses down your collarbone and breast to your stomach. All you could feel were tingles that refused to vacate you. They’d found a new home.

Softly, you replied, “All yours.”

There was no arguing with that. The way your body responded to his touch, it was as if you were carefully crafted for Mark and Mark only. Which, the way he fit perfectly inside of you was a testament to.

Mark made you feel rupture and rapture. They were practically indistinguishable. He broke you into a billion tiny pieces that were held together by unfaltering desire.

Just listening to the mess that you’d both created set you ablaze. The wet, resounding clap of Mark slamming his hips into yours as well as your moans and heavy breaths filled the empty air. Your eyes rolled back at the lewd noises. “Mark, Mark,” you cried out his name, sensing you were only moments away from the edge.

Mark knew that you were close without asking and he was trailing right behind you by nearly nothing at all. His pace was vigorous, positively trying to fuck your brains out.

You only got closer and closer. His thrusts felt sharper and the pressure continued to build in your gut at a rate quicker than you could handle and far beyond your control. Any moment now, you would be at your breaking point.

“Don’t pull out,” you demanded, knowing he wasn’t far behind you. It was written all over his face.

Mark grunted at the mere thought of coming inside of you. Needless to say, he had dreamed of letting his release flood you. “Want me to fill you up?”

“Yes,” you moaned, craving him more than anything ever. “Please.”

Mark clamped his fingers around your throat, knowing it would bring you to finish quicker than anything else. “Let go for me, baby,” he said lustfully.

Just like that, you were convulsing with climax. As if he single-handedly controlled every muscle and nerve in your body. The room reeled as you came, voice as loud as it could be with his hand denying you the privilege of breath. Your nails dug harshly into the flesh of his back as your whole body shuddered uncontrollably with release.

You and Mark stared each other in the eyes as you both came. You watched his lips split in a grunt and his orgasm knocked the wind out of him, flaring down his spine. His fingers dug tighter around your throat and his cum filled you all at once. “Take it all,” he ordered, body coming to a halt. “Every last drop.”

Your body obeyed, still eagerly clinging around his cock. It was like you wanted to bleed each other dry. Him of all of his cum and you of your willpower.

Then, you slowly yet steadily both came to a stop. Mark took his precious time to pull out of you, but watched his seed trickle out of your sweet cunt with adoration. His grip around your neck slackened, and you both settled down to finally breathe for what felt like the first time ever.

It wasn’t like you to be so exhausted after a single round, but that night, you were completely spent. You cleaned up a little, then drifted into sleep within the comfort of Mark’s embrace.

Mark held your sleeping figure closely, taking all of your warmth and replacing it with his. I love you, he thought gently. And I’m sorry.

You fell asleep in Mark’s arms, and after a long night of dreaming about him in your sleep, woke up in them, too. And you had the biggest smile on your face when you realized that some time between when you fell asleep and when you woke up, Mark had removed your makeup.

You were beginning to love Mark so much that you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

Last night was mind-blowing. And not only that, it gave you an epiphany. You wanted Mark in your life. You wanted to wake up in his arms and feel his body on yours. You wanted to kiss him while cuddling beneath the moonlight. You wanted to take over the world with him.

But by doing so, you would have broken one of Bloodlust’s most important rules; disobeying direct orders. The cost? Your life.

All of the warmth of loving Mark you felt for him only moments ago suddenly dissipated into cold unadulterated fear.

You stared at his sleeping face and felt a tear slide down your face. I’m sorry.

Mark’s eyes fluttered open. He wiped your tears with his thumb and asked in his gruff morning voice, “Why are you crying?”

You smiled and shook your head. “It’s nothing,” you lied.

Though in reality, you were so overwhelmed. And borderline terrified. The last time you loved someone, they tried to violate you. Not to mention you knew the inner circle would never approve of your relationship with Mark.

If you didn’t kill him, then they would. And then you’d be next.

“Don’t lie to me,” Mark said. He could see that this whole predicament was doing a large number on you. Even the strongest soldiers had their weak points.

You sighed faintly. Then said, “I’ll tell you later.”

Mark’s hand found yours and squeezed it tightly. “Promise?”

“I promise.” You glanced at his neck, and failed to hide your grin of pride as you saw the pattern of marks you’d left there. Little traces of you flooded his whole body. As traces of him did yours. “Mm, did I do that?”

He shifted his glance down and snickered. “You did.”

You hummed. “I didn’t mean to go that far.”

“For some reason, I don’t believe you.”

You gasped in faux offense. Then, broke into a fit of giggles. The sight tugged at Mark’s heartstrings and the corners of his lips.

That smile was what made your heart beat. You brought your lips to Mark’s in a peck. Or three. Insatiably craving more, Mark held your face and kissed you even longer and harder.

One thing led to another. One second your lips were to his and the next he was lazily fucking you into pieces, moans echoing inside the room in between kisses and giggles.

You were so far gone that there was no redemption.

The weeks flew by at the speed of lightning and in no time at all, you were months deep into Mark. He gave you everything that the narcotics unit had on you thus far, and you were pleasantly surprised to find that it wasn’t much at all. They had most of the inner circle identified save for Jaemin (not surprisingly), but the relationships were either vague, inaccurate or a combination thereof.

The only reason Jaemin and Ten hadn’t cracked their unit open yet was because of the tight lock they had on all gang-related cases. And they kept their information on physical files. Granted, it was very scarce.

Begrudgingly, of course, you had to give Jisung credit there. Neither Mark or Jeno had caught a glimpse of those imported drugs before in their lives.

Given that you made no attempts to hide your affection, it was broadly known that there was a bond between both you and Mark. You played it off as baiting him; luring him into your trap in order to milk him for everything he knew. Your emotions were kept under wraps when he was the topic of discussion and you fought smiles whenever you heard someone say Mark’s name. They fell hook, line, and sinker.

“They had a hunch that you were Yuta’s girlfriend,” Mark had told you. Now that he was confidently aware that it wasn’t the case, he found it laughable. “I was supposed to use you to move in proximity with the inner circle. The best way to take down any organization is to remove the heart, but obviously I never got far.”

Apparently, their source of rationale were photographs of you and Yuta together discreetly taken. It was a lie you fed into, providing Mark fake intel to feed his dangerously nosy co-workers. As always, the less law enforcement knew, the better.

Your shoulders shook with laughter. “You used to be such a pain in the ass, y’know? I can’t believe you bugged me.”

Mark furrowed his brows. “Huh?”

“Didn’t you put a bug in my pocket?” you asked, arching your brows. “After the race. You know, when you hugged me?”

“My hands were on your back,” Mark reminded, confused. As were you. “That was probably Jeno. But he hasn’t mentioned anything to me about it. I never bugged you, baby - I genuinely just wanted a hug.”

You barked, “The hell is his problem with me? I mean, for an undercover cop he’s obvious as hell. Why send somebody with no prior experience to the danger zone?”

Mark shrugged. He had very little say on the matter. Not that he fought it, either. “They decided that he was ‘the second-most equipped.’ Verbatim.”

“I can’t imagine why. That night on the rooftop,” you trailed off, shaking your head. “I don’t think he trusts you.”

Mark laughed. That was to put it simply. “Yeah, me neither. I told him I was fooling around with you to gain your trust - and at first, I was. But not anymore.”

That went without saying. But you still retorted, “If you’re fucking with me, Mark, I’ll kill you.”

Mark snorted. “I’m sure.”

He wasn’t afraid of you. Like you were a puppy posing as a wolf waving your paws at him with puppy eyes. Mark, threatened by you? As if. You were his fucking baby.

Long nights of feeding Bloodlust intel on the narcotics unit, then coming home to Mark passed by. You’d eventually given him your address and permitted him to go inside. He quite liked your home. It looked and smelled like you. He never knew what to imagine when it came to the interior of your house, but upon seeing, it made perfect sense.

Pictures of you and your friends scattered around the house. None of you by yourself and none with your family. Little plants growing healthily. You mentioned that they were high-maintenance. Your favorite blankets in a heap on the sofa. And a bookshelf brimming with novels. Mark was pleasantly surprised to learn that you were a major bookworm. And a closeted romantic.

It was close to midnight when you heard someone behind you. Very swiftly, you were endeavoring to arrive safely to the garage where your car waited, though you knew that there was no chance of making it in one piece without confrontation. You turned a corner and patiently drew your gun; it wasn’t very often that you ventured into the night alone past sunset, but you damn sure made certain that your gun was tucked to yourself.

There was a familiar negative energy all around you. It was impossible to ignore - far too suffocating and too distinguishable to be neglected.

Not surprising in the slightest, it was Jeno who rounded the corner. With his usual scowl, and an aimed gun.

Narrowing your eyes, you snapped, “What do you want?”

Jeno smiled. It was the first time you’d seen his lips form anything other than a crooked frown, but it still exuded that same level of cold grimness. “I think you know what I want.”

You studied Jeno for a moment. For someone who believed you were the second-in-command’s girlfriend, he showed you no fear, grip on his gun firm as he aimed it squarely at your chest. Apparently, you were a woman that was loyal to no one but herself in the eyes of the law. Which made you all the more unpredictable. “I know that you’re not who you say you are,” you began levelly, inching closer. “I know everything there is to know about you, Jeno.”

“Because Mark told you, right?” Jeno snarled. “I know a lot about you, too - like how you’ve been whoring yourself out to Mark because you know that he’s easy. He was ripe for the picking and that’s why they stuck me with him; because they knew he needed grounding.”

That made you bristle with anger, but you kept a lid over your temper and retorted, “That sounds like a nice little fairy tale. Is that what you’re going to tell the big boss?”

Ignoring you, Jeno continued, “The world will know the truth about you and this whole gang. You’re more than the bitch they pay to secretly do their bidding. Before you were Scar, you were a gang-hopper.”

Seething, you lunged at Jeno with the gun. He blocked the attack - courtesy of your blindness from the rage that ran down your spine - and cocked his gun at you.

And then there was a loud, piercing gunshot.

But you were never shot. Jeno’s grip on his gun slackened and fell to the ground with him. He lay there gaping, a hand over his stomach that bled profusely. And glancing not at you; behind you. When you turned around, Mark emerged from the corner around you and stepped out of the shadows to approach you.

“You should be more careful,” Mark chided. “What if it wasn’t me behind you?”

Though you wanted to smile, you couldn’t. There was a tormenting question on your brain. How does Jeno know about my past?

“Mark,” Jeno choked out, nearly coughing up blood. He raised his arm with all of his strength and pointed with a trembling finger. “Mark is…,”

Mark didn’t let him finish, cutting Jeno off with a bullet to the head. Whatever he was going to say died with him.

Rather than feeling relieved, you were unnerved. Mark killed Jeno to protect you. Love made people do crazy things - that you knew better than anyone else, but Mark seemed colder than you’d ever seen him before. He didn’t waver; unhesitating and unremorseful.

As if this wasn’t his first rodeo.

“You never mentioned telling the team about my past.”

Mark cast you a glance. “That’s because I didn’t.”

You narrowed your eyes and whispered, “Then, how did Jeno know?”

Mark caught onto what you were hinting at and his face swiftly softened. There was no way in hell that he would do anything to hurt you. And he needed you to know that. “I never said a word about your past to him, baby. I swear. I don’t know how he found out, but you need to know that I’d never air out any of your business.”

There were other possibilities, too. Your past wasn’t exactly private - that you knew. He could have contacted your old friends, or heard the gossip of the low-ranks. Any of those roads were open, but it meant more if Mark himself exposed you. That was unacceptable.

You blew out a sigh and reminded yourself that Mark had been in gangs before - he most likely had bodies. As always, you were just paranoid. You believed that everyone was out to get you because the people that were meant to embrace you released you into the cold.

Hiding your gun, you pulled Mark into your embrace and whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Mark murmured. “Just tell me that you trust me.”

“I trust you,” you told him. No reluctance, no shame. And I love you.

You knew that Mark loved you too. In your heart and bones. He had killed for you.

You called someone to discard Jeno's corpse and went home with Mark. The two of you talked and fell asleep by each other’s side. It was more or less a routine.

But when you woke up, Mark wasn’t there. You called out his name; no response. You looked inside the bathroom and he wasn’t there. The living room, kitchen, and all of his favorite spots inside your house were almost void of life.

Mark wasn’t there and it was downright laughable that that frightened you to your very core, but he never left without telling you. You scanned your memories of last night for any warning and ultimately came short.

It wasn’t the first time that you’d woken up alone, but more often than not, you woke up in each other’s arms. Occasionally, one of you would be in the bathroom or kitchen, but you never left the house without mentioning it the night before or leaving some form of text or note.

Though when you checked your phone, it was empty.

And so, you began to do the one thing you very seldom did; panic. There was no indication that Mark had been forced out of your house, but the depthless list of possibilities unnerved you. You prayed that he was somewhere safe. That at most, maybe he’d simply forgotten. You would have scolded him for getting you wound up over nothing, but at least he would be out of harm’s way.

There was a knock at your front door and hoping it was Mark, you rushed to open it, but you frowned when you were met with the face of a man that you’d never seen before.

The stranger said, “Hi. I’m Huang Renjun and I know you don’t know me, but you’ve got to get the fuck out of here. Right now.”

You blinked. Then, shut the door on him. It was too goddamn early for this foolishness.

Undeterred, Renjun opened the door again and welcomed himself inside. This town wasn’t big enough for two stubborn assholes.

You screeched, “The hell, man?”

Renjun exclaimed, “Do you want to die?”

“I literally do not know who the fuck you are!”

“Yes. I thought I made that very clear,” Renjun hissed, gritting his teeth. “But you do know Alexander Lee.”

In an instant, you were rendered gorgonized like a gargoyle. That name never failed to put you in a borderline unresponsive stupor. Anything regarding Alexander “Lex” Lee plagued your heart and body with crisp fear.

“I don’t want anything that has to do with Lex,” you replied, shaking your head and backing away.

This game of hide-and-seek had kept you on your toes for ages now. You’d spent the last years of your life off the grid to take cover from him and now this? Hell no.

Renjun briefly studied you. For someone rumored to have looked death in the face and blown him a kiss, it was not at all lost on him how terrified you’d suddenly become at the mere mention of Lex’s name. It was a warranted fear - the one that made you tick. “I’m sure. But if you don’t leave this place as soon as possible, he’s going to kill you.”

“And I’m supposed to just trust you?” you whispered, all the bite in your voice demolished by terror.

“Mark sent me.”

You blinked. “What?”

Renjun groaned, though didn’t elaborate. It was no mystery how you and Mark got along. For one, you were both a pain in ass and a thorn in his side. Instead, he drew his phone from his pocket and dialed a number. And put the phone on speaker.

“Do you have her?” came Mark’s voice.

Renjun said exasperatedly, “Let’s try ‘Hello, Renjun.’ Or ‘Hi.’ Most people say that when they pick up the phone, you know.”

“Mark,” you breathed, relieved to hear his voice. He was somewhere out there. But you were hurt that he left you.

Ignoring Renjun, Mark greeted, “Hi, doll.”

Renjun only wished he had time to argue. He would have burned your lover alive for greeting you instead of him, but the clock was ticking. He already had too many irons in the fire. “Hurry up and talk some sense into your girl, Mark. She doesn’t believe me.”

Your girl, he had said. Mark’s girl. For a split second, your heart brimmed with warmth.

Mark began from across the line, “Listen to me, baby. I know this is sudden and I’ll explain everything as soon as I get the chance, but you need to trust me and listen to Renjun. Okay?”

Your heart sank. “What’s going on?”

“No time to explain,” Mark told you curtly. “Just do this for me. Please.”

You blew out a sigh. This was too much too soon. Ultimately, you decided to trust Mark. “Okay.”

Mark blurted, “I love you.”

A pained smile curled your lips. “I love you more.”

“Alright, fun’s over,” Renjun interjected. He would not stick around for your lovey-dovey mess. Especially not when lives were on the line and in jeopardy. “We’ll talk to you later, Mark. You go get dressed and come on.”

Begrudgingly, you did as told, rushing upstairs to throw on an appropriate outfit before you headed back down and got inside a car with a man that you’d known for less than fifteen minutes.

As soon as you were on the road, you reminded yourself that you had no idea what was happening and where you were going, and asked, “Where are we going?”

Renjun replied, “Somewhere safe.”

Vague. You didn’t like that. “Are you a cop?”

“No.”

“Do you work with Mark?”

“Not in the way that you think,” Renjun responded, patiently quickly evaporating into thin air.

You pressed, “Then, in what way?”

Gosh, you were aggravating. In his mind, Renjun was likening you to a child that persistently asked their parents, ‘Are we there yet?’ during long road trips. “Jesus, woman! Would you stop badgering me?”

You narrowed your eyes and faced the window so that you wouldn’t lunge at him. “I just want to know what’s going on. You mention Lex Lee - the man that’s been indirectly making my life hell for the last years of my life - and expect me to not have questions?”

You had him there. Alexander was the devil himself and anyone that had known him for five minutes could most likely back you up. His goons were lightly compensated and offered little leeway, and the worst part was the hierarchy system.

Everyone was inferior to someone save for Lex, and the designated high-ranks were equally crooked. They schemed to get away with stepping out of line directly under his nose, often pinning the blame on low-ranking members to avoid lethal retribution.

That was why you were scared shitless to return that day. Lex and your ex-boyfriend were like brothers. It didn’t matter what you told him happened to you - you’d be lucky if he cared. Let alone believed you.

Renjun heaved a breath. You had a very fair argument. “Lex is looking for you. He’s attacked Bloodlust’s headquarters. That’s why Mark wants me to keep you safe.”

“What?” you shrieked in terror. “I have to go back there!”

Renjun turned onto another street and shook his head, eyeing the roads for Lex’s hounds. “It’s not safe. Do you hear me? It’s not safe. You were scared shitless of anything involving Lex three seconds ago.”

“I don’t care,” you hissed. “This is my battle. I’ll be damned if I let anyone else fight it for me. Yuta saved my life - now it’s my turn.”

Renjun balked, “No, it’s not. I know about Bloodlust. They protect you as long as you do their bidding. So let them do their goddamn job.”

Gritting your teeth, you crossed your arms and stared out the window, watching buildings and signs whirl by in a blur. It was clear that Renjun would not be wooed by you, but you refused to sit and do nothing. Especially when his connection - or Mark’s - to Lex was unknown. There had to be another way.

Recognizing the road you turned onto, you had an idea. It was reckless and extremely dangerous, but you wouldn’t let that deter you. Not when the better half of your life consisted of making life-threatening choices. There was the option to take the hard way or the easy way out.

And you’d be damned if you took the easy way.

Calculating, you counted down the seconds in your head until you could make your move. The moment you were down to one, you moved at the speed of light and swung the car door open, launching yourself out and rolling into an area of enclosed grass.

You grabbed your gun from your purse and aimed squarely at Renjun’s tires, sending him swerving somewhere. He screamed in the distance, “You sick psychopathic bitch!”

I’ve heard that before, too, you thought to yourself with levity. And then, like your life depended on it, you bolted.

Dusting away dirt and twigs, you sprinted and sprinted and sprinted. The street was close to the garages. Obviously, your car wasn’t there, but there were plenty that were.

You bust through the garage and scanned each of the open slots for your unlucky victim. There were several people, most polishing up their cars before tonight’s race. And you swiftly made your pick, not having time to linger.

You snatched one of the racer’s keys and asked breathlessly, “Can I borrow these? Thanks, you’re the best!”

Screams of protest were your less than pleased response, but you had already made a distance on the garage by the time anyone thought to react. The moment you were on a road, you let out a thick, heavy breath.

Forget crazy. You were out of your goddamn mind.

You sped as fast as you could without going over the limit, given you had already committed two crimes in broad daylight. The last thing you needed was a high-speed police chase.

The east side of the headquarters was the closest and you drove like the devil. The closer you neared, the faster your heart echoed in your chest. You hoped Mark wasn’t there, but with his knowledge of Lex, you had aching questions numb you to your love. And you prayed your boss decided to take an off day.

Alas, the building was - metaphorically speaking - ablaze when you arrived there. A grating dissonance of screams and gunshots filled the distant air. Lex had called war on Bloodlust via this ambush, but not knowing who was winning completely unnerved you.

You got out of the car and approached the building through the rear side. Conveniently, there were emergency exits installed in scatters around the headquarters designed for similar occasions. Discreetly, you entered through one, and steered clear of the noise as you stealthily made your way upstairs. It was in your best interest to remain undetected. For all they knew, you weren’t here.

Creeping around corners, you held your breath. As if the slightest sound would have you killed on the spot. The loud halls that echoed with gunshots terrified you, but the eerily silent ones were too quiet to be relieving.

Whirling around the corner, you parted your lips to scream when you bumped into someone, and they clamped their palm over your mouth. “Shut the fuck up,” Jisung growled, looking both ways like a civilian crossing the street. When he deemed the close clear, he released you. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Heaving, you asked, “Have you seen Yuta or Mark?”

Jisung answered you with complete disinterest and disdain, and said, “Yuta’s been unresponsive. As for loverboy, he’s the reason you’re in this mess.”

You realized that you’d blown your cover the second you mentioned Mark, but you didn’t care. For the sake of your heart and mind, you needed to trust and believe that he was safe. You wouldn’t know how to go on without him. How to unlearn everything you’d gotten so accustomed to in his presence.

“What do you mean, unresponsive?” you repeated, lost for words. “And the reason? What the hell are you talking about?”

Jisung pinched his nose and shook his head. “Forget it. Figure that shit out yourself.”

He turned around and walked away, Part of you was tempted to scream after him, though the sight of a man emerging from the shadows behind Jisung - armed with murder on his mind - silenced you. For some reason, everything in your body told you to pick up your gun and shoot. You complied, and shot fire.

Jisung whirled back around in time to watch the man hit the ground, gone without knowing what hit him. He rooted to the spot, gaze rising to your figure and noticing the gun in your grasp. “Did you just…”

“Save your life?” you finished. “Yeah. You’re welcome.”

Jisung blew out a sigh. He was many things, including your mortal enemy, but he had a moral compass and in that moment he owed you his life. He glanced around once more, then told you, “Mark is a member of The Basilisks.”

You wanted to laugh. “What?”

Jisung made his tone as menacing as possible and added, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. But your loverboy isn’t who you think he is. Jaemin followed up on him today. Mark’s cousin is Alexander Lee and he’s been in that gang since a little after you started working for Yuta.”

Your heart sank. You wanted to deny it with everything you had, but it made sense. How else would Mark know Lex? He even mentioned that his cousin made a gang. Stupid, you told yourself. You’re so fucking stupid.

God, you wished the ground would swallow you whole. You wanted to isolate yourself from the rest of the world and rot to bones. Mark had gotten under your skin, reduced you to your true, bare self. He had seen all of the good and bad; the beautiful and ugly. You felt comfortable enough to be more vulnerable with him than you ever had anyone else. Was all of that in vain?

The Basilisk Biker’s. It hurt so goddamn much. You felt so used and betrayed. And empty. Like you had poured your mind, body, heart and soul into loving Mark and had nothing left to spare.

Maybe you did.

Jisung saw the sadness in your eyes and felt a pang of something he had never felt for you before. It didn’t feel right. Your eyes always gleamed with fire, but your flame was demolished. He wanted to hug you, but it wasn’t his embrace that you needed at the moment. He doubted you would want it in the first place.

Instead, he said, “You have to get out of here.”

“I have to find Yuta,” you argued, gritting your teeth.

“What if he’s safe?”

Without missing a beat, you shot, “What if he’s not?”

Jisung had argued with you enough in his lifetime to know that you were headstrong and demanded your way. If you wanted something enough, there was absolutely nothing on this earth that could stop you from chasing it. But he also knew that the moment something happened to you once he left you alone, your blood would be on his hands. “I’m going with you.”

You shrugged and replied, “Suit yourself.” Then, began to make your way up the stairs. The elevators were too risky.

You fought tears and focused yourself on your boss. You’d be damned if you cried while anyone was watching. You had taken a bullet tougher than this. Toughen up, you hissed inwardly.

The long staircase had made you realize just how large the headquarters was. In your head, you had always thought of it as a second home. Now, it was being destroyed by your first one.

When you reached the floor of Yuta’s office, you stepped onto the ground, peeking around and spotting Basilisks. Jisung whispered, “I’ll distract them. You go check his office.”

You nodded. Jisung did exactly what he said that he would, and you set out for Yuta’s office. Just from standing outside the door, you could tell that it was empty. But you needed to see for yourself. You counted down from three, attempting to soothe your rapidly moving mind, and barged inside.

The sight unnerved you. Yuta was nowhere to be found, but the room was completely wrecked. Like he was blitzed and fought like hell against his attacker.

There was little trace of him. No sign of where he was or where he’d gone. Not even traces of blood. Just his belongings toppled over in a heap and his window completely open, curtains blustering.

“Find something interesting here?”

Fear riveted you in place. You took your time to turn around, met face to face with a man straight out of a nightmare.

“Lex,” you exhaled thickly, the wind knocked out of you.

Lex smiled wickedly. There was a gun in his hand. “Long time no see, old friend.”

You shook your head viciously and screamed, “Where the hell is my boss?”

Lex inched closer, closing in on you as if he was going to make you walk off of a plank. You took steps backwards, colliding with Yuta’s desk. “Well, I could tell you, but where’s the fun in that?”

“You son of a bitch,” you hissed.

As if he didn’t hear you, Lex continued, “It wounded me real bad when you left, y’know. Word on the street is that this Yuta fool had you sold in less than a day. Then, I find out you killed Riley,” Lex laughed. “Whew, I was livid!”

“You were going to kill me,” you said, moving around the desk as swiftly as possible. You never wanted to leave. There were people in that gang that you considered family and you missed them everyday of your life. You never wanted to leave them behind.

“Damn right, I was!” Lex shouted. He didn’t sound angry - he sounded insane. That was arguably worse. “With my bare goddamn hands!”

You shook your head, fighting to remain calm. Lex’s weakness was his anger, but so was yours. If you stayed rational, you had a fighting chance at survival. “I didn’t want to kill Riley. You have to trust me on that, Lex. He was trying to push me into things I wasn’t ready for. I didn’t have a choice.”

Pretending to care, Lex crooned, “You have a choice now. Come back home. Let’s be a family again. The girls missed you the worst.”

Or else what? You knew your other unspoken choice was gruesome as they always had been, but you also knew that Lex was full of shit. There was no way in hell that he would let you off that easily.

Or alive, for that matter.

You knew what your options were, because you knew Alexander Lee better than anyone else alive. He was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. A narcissist if you knew one, blind to his flaws. He was manipulative and deceptive, but worst of all, he had not a shred of mercy.

If anyone was going to take your life from you, it wouldn’t be Lex. You refused to grant him that pleasure. And you knew very well that the only reason you were still alive and breathing was because he wanted to kill you with his own bare hands. Nobody would be given the satisfaction of taking your life if not you.

You shook your head and swore, “Over my dead body.”

Then, you leapt out of the window.

And crash landed onto the balcony on the floor below you. You struck the deep trenches of your memory, reminding yourself that Yuta once mentioned that he refused to get a balcony like the rest of the members. He claimed that in times of crisis, he wouldn’t regret his decision. And you chose to believe that that was how he escaped. It was a graceless fall. It hurt like a bitch, but what mattered was that you were still alive. Somehow.

You raced through the floor in case Lex was crazy enough to follow you.

You ran and you ran and you ran for your life. Your legs ached from all of the reckless stunts you’d pulled today, but you never stopped running. The thoughts seeped into your mind, going miles per minute, trying to outmatch the speed of your feet. You thought of your family and felt pain. You thought of Lex and felt fear. You thought of your old friends and felt regret. You thought of Yuta and felt dread. You thought of Mark and felt stone-cold betrayal.

But you also felt love. Your heart hammered like it was trying to wreck its way through your chest. You wanted some kind of explanation for this, one that would make all of the pain fade, but you knew that there was none.

How could Mark tell you that he loved you but work aside the same man that made your life a living hell? Your heart was crying blood. It bled and beat for him all at once.

Adrenaline made you numb to the pain of everything except for your wounded heart. Maybe you were wrong. Maybe there was someone else that would be granted the satisfaction of taking your life. Giving Mark the key to your heart was like handing him a gun and telling him to shoot. Your heart begged for the one person that you were forbidden to have.

Speak of the devil, they say. And he shall appear.

Somewhere in the run for your life, you bumped directly into Mark. He looked relieved and displeased to see you all at once.

Mark grabbed you and whispered, “Baby…”

You swatted his hands away and cried, “Don’t call me that!”

Mark reached for your hand, squeezing tightly. There was no levity in his tone when he said, “I’m not doing any of this to hurt you. I swear on my life. You just need to trust me.”

“No,” you shouted, fighting like hell to keep your tears at bay. They stung your eyes, but he didn’t deserve to see them fall. “You’ve been lying to me this whole time and expect me to trust you? That’s not how that works, Mark.”

“I know,” Mark agreed. “And you have every right to be pissed at me for what I’m about to do.”

Before you had the chance to ask questions, Mark pulled you to his chest and clamped his palm over your mouth, then shouted, “Over here - I’ve got her!”

Basilisks began to fill your vision. They circled you like a shark to its prey, guns aimed. You noticed familiar faces around you, and you couldn’t blame them for any vengeful feelings they felt for you. Mark shoved you in the middle by yourself, like he was presenting his artwork to them, proud of his product.

Lex spoke to Mark, but you tuned in and out, their words being reduced to white noise. You felt so much pain and fear that your body began to numb your senses in self-preservation. It was too much to bear.

This is it, you thought somberly. This is my end. Part of you was satisfied with that. You were so tired. You had worked your whole life and experienced loss to loss with no breaks in between. No breathing room. If you weren’t a sinner, you would have believed that you would finally meet your mother.

Then again, depending on who you asked, she was a sinner too.

“Thought you could run from me,” Lex taunted, clearly amused. “I thought you would have learned by now. No one escapes me. No one escapes their fate.”

He was right. After all, you had nowhere to run this time. Not with over a dozen guns pointed squarely at your head.

All you wanted was for him to make this quick. To put you out of your misery already. Add one more scar to your body in completion.

Lex tilted his head. “Any last words?”

Without hesitation, you spat, “Fuck you.”

Lex burst into laughter. Then, much to your surprise, said, “Mark, finish her.”

You stayed still and held your breath, knowing this was the inevitable end. But you couldn’t look at Mark. It would hurt you too much.

Then, The Basilisks switched on a dime and aimed their guns at Lex - including Mark. Stupidly, you stood there blinking. Lisa - one of your old friends - had to pull you out of harm’s way. She whispered, “You’re safe. Everything’s gonna be okay now.”

Too stunned to speak, you stood gawking.

Lex blurted, “What the hell do you all think you’re doing?”

“This has to end, Alexander. And it ends with you,” Mark began, casting his cousin an unsympathetic glance. “For the past decade, you’ve been making everyone here's life a living hell. How much longer did you think we were going to put up with that bullshit?”

Lex began to stumble backwards, reaching for escape, but one of the Basilisks named Yangyang pushed him back into the circle, then said, “Woah, woah, woah - where do you think you’re going, big guy?”

Realizing he was cornered, Lex turned to stare at his cousin in disbelief. “Really? Your own flesh and blood, Mark?”

Mark let out a remorseless chuckle. “Don’t pretend to have a moral compass now. Here’s the thing, Lex. Everyone here considers each other family and you’ve fucked every last one of us over. You don’t give a flying fuck about blood and flesh; all you care about is power. You like that you can kill whoever - whenever - and our fate lies in your hands.”

“It used to,” Yangyang corrected from the sidelines. “Now, the tables have turned. You get to feel what’s like to be on the other side of torture.”

Another Basilisk - Seulgi - spoke up from the crowd, voice dripping with the bite of venom, “You pay us less than we’re worth to do your bidding and you let those sons of bitches get away with framing us - but impose the death rule so that we can’t leave. We’re fed the hell up, Lex.”

The death rule was simply that. Nobody was allowed to leave. Your only escape was the dark void of death. It was more or less a pre-prison for gangsters.

Unless, you ran away. In Basilisk history, you were the only successful runaway.

You simply watched in amusement, feeling a wound in you healed. Never in a million years would you have imagined a dream like this come true. It was better than anything you’d ever hoped for. It’s over.

“I don’t do last words,” Mark mocked, cocking his gun. “Goodbye, cousin.”

The sound of a gunshot resonated throughout the hall, and Alexander dropped to the floor in vanquish.

“It really is over,” Lisa repeated. Until then, you hadn’t realized that you’d said those words aloud. You were out of your body.

You grabbed her hand. “Let’s get out of here?”

Lisa cocked a brow. “What about lover boy?”

You gaped. “You know?”

“Oh, please. Mark tells us a lot about you. He acts like we’ve never met you before. It’s hard to get him to shut up sometimes,” Lisa scoffed.

Mark talks about me. That made your heart swell with emotion, but you pushed them aside. “I’m still mad at him. Let’s go before he makes me change my mind.”

Giggling, Lisa told you, “Lead the way.”

You did as told, leading her outside. For now, you pushed your worries away. They would return, but you were simply glad to connect with an old friend for the meantime. A very special one at that.

Hand in hand, you brought Lisa to one of the balconies. The wind whipped through her hair as you both faced the city. The memories were a mixture of pained and blissful. They stung your heart, yet filled you with impalpable joy.

After a moment of silence, Lisa whispered, “You never said goodbye.”

“I know.”

She whirled around to face you, a pained expression on her face. “That hurt.”

“I know,” you said, frowning. “And I’m sorry.”

Lisa faced the early morning city again. Like looking at you would be her breaking point. “You did what you had to do. I can’t hold that against you. I was just scared that you’d forget me.”

You called her name austerely and slightly rolled up your shirt, then spoke like you were delivering a speech, “I carry a piece of you with me everyday. Every time I look in the mirror, I think of you. Pain is temporary, but this scar is forever. It is a constant reminder of you and what our friendship means to me. I can’t forget that.”

Lisa gazed at your scar fondly. She remembered how you got it like it was yesterday. You jumped in front of a bullet to save her life. You were so goddamn stupid, but damn did she love you for it.

She pulled you into a hug. And you smiled.

“I moved on,” Lisa mentioned once she pulled away. “I found someone.”

Your eyes widened, your smile broadened. “Who is she?”

Lisa smiled involuntarily at the thought of her mystery woman. Once upon a time, she smiled at you like that. “Jennie.”

“No way,” you said, jaw dropping.

“Yes, way,” Lisa smirked. “Love always finds a way. Sometimes the one meant for you is the person you’d least expect. It’s ironic, isn't it?”

You groaned, “You’re telling me.”

Lisa studied you. Never in a million years would she have imagined that the two of you would be having a conversation like this, but she was content to hear your voice again. At one point, she thought she’d lost you forever. “You love him.”

It was clear who ‘him’ was. You sighed out, “I do. So much. I don’t know what to do with myself.”

Lisa snickered, but suddenly became stern and said, “Mark didn’t do any of this to hurt you. He would never. He was scared half to death when Renjun called and said you’d jumped out of a car to come here. As crazy as that sounds, I’m not surprised. You’re full of crazy.”

You laughed lightheartedly. “I’ve done worse.”

“I know. Like, jumped in front of a bullet,” Lisa retorted, then continued. “Listen, that boy is head over heels in love with you. I would know. What he did back there wasn’t a part of the initial plan, but he’s in control of this whole scheme and we urged him to do what he thought was best. He knew you would hate him for this, but he wanted to protect you from Lex for good.”

The tears were coming back and you blinked them away. “Really?”

“It was hard to keep him from socking Lex in the jaw for talking down on you sometimes. He was ready to risk it all for you. That’s how much he loves you. Don’t punish him for that,” Lisa said, smiling ruefully. Then, she presented you with some levity. “Not for too long.”

You laughed like the two old friends you were. You never forgot what those days were like. To be together with people you considered family, you were happy. And now you were no longer forbidden to see each other.

Lisa patted your back. “Go get him.”

“Right now?” you asked, gaping in disbelief.

“Right now,” she repeated, memories of a morose Mark returning. “Any longer and I think he’ll fling himself off one of these balconies.”

“Oh, brother,” you sighed. “Will you be okay?”

“As long as you don’t leave me for another six years.”

You smiled and held out your pinky finger for her to intertwine with hers. “I won’t. I promise.”

Lisa locked pinkies with you. Then, she let you go for the second time and set you free.

You found Mark somberly glancing into the distance. His mood seemed to instantly lighten when the sound of you slumping beside him steered him from his reverie.

“Hi.”

Mark rubbed his neck. “Hey.”

“I’m sorry,” you told him apologetically. “I should have trusted you.”

Mark blurted, “What? No. I’m the one that should be sorry. I’ve been keeping secrets from you this whole time. I should have told you.”

“You’re right,” you replied. You switched on a dime, beginning to knock at his chest fiercely. “What were you thinking?”

He was hardly thinking. It was difficult - he couldn’t function knowing that your life was on the line. You being there meant he had to change his plans entirely because he refused to let anything happen to you. His heart was screaming when Renjun told him about the stunt you’d pulled. Above all else, all he wanted was for you to let him protect you. “I’m sorry, doll. Will a kiss make it better?”

You paused. Then, sang, “Not sure. Kiss me and find out.”

Mark shook his head in delight. “With pleasure.”

Mark enveloped your lips in a kiss. He kissed you like he’d never get the chance again. As if this was his last day to love and hold you, but also as if he hadn’t felt your touch in years. It was so indescribably passionate. The only way you could explain was that it felt like love. Until you met Mark, you thought that you’d been cursed with the inability to fall for someone else again.

When you’d both had your fill, you pulled away for good and asked, “But I am curious - you’re a cop and a gang member at the same time?”

Mark had been waiting for that one. He cradled you in his arms and replied smoothly, “My job in the gang is to be their eyes in law enforcement. Alongside the biking, we became heavily involved in drug trafficking. It’s my job to steer the police off course and ensure they don’t go looking into The Basilisks.”

“And that’s how you got here,” you added, the pieces coming together to form one big picture.

“Yup. I was assigned to look into Bloodlust. It’s no secret that this is where you hid and Lex wanted me to use this case to lure you out. At first, I intended to follow orders. But then I fell for you, baby. And I knew that only over my dead body would I let anything happen to you.”

“Romantic,” you purred. Then, you remembered something and your eyes filled with worry. “Have you seen Yuta?”

“He’s fine,” Mark assured. “They all are. They know this building well. That’s their advantage.”

You blew out a sigh of semi-relief. ”We have to come clean.”

Mark blinked. “Now?”

“Now or never.”

Mark slipped his fingers through yours and brought you to your feet. “Okay. Let’s tell them.”

You smiled. You didn’t want to hide Mark anymore. You wanted to profess your love for him from the rooftops. And you knew in your heart that he wanted to do the very same.

That was how you found yourself in Taeyong’s much larger office. Yet again, he stood alongside Yuta and Ten. It was a little frightening, but you wouldn’t let them unnerve you. You were bold in your love.

Lightheartedly, Yuta tried to lighten the mood with levity, “This is the infamous Markie.”

Mark shook his hand. “Dom Toretto.”

You cleared your throat. “Don’t mind him - he watches a lot of movies.”

Taeyong cut to the chase. “You disobeyed direct orders.”

You stiffened, knowing he was talking directly to you. You met his gaze and didn’t falter. “Yes.”

“And you were aware that you were disobeying direct orders - and of the punishment that shall follow.”

“That is correct.”

Taeyong arched his brow, amused by your boldness. It took guts to disobey the king of the empire. He sat and reclined in his seat and told you sternly, “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill both of you right now.”

The gun resting patiently on his desk did not go unnoticed by you, but you dug into your heels and held Mark’s arm firmly. You were honest. “I have none. I’ve disobeyed and deceived you while aware of the consequences. I apologize for that, but I won’t apologize for loving him and I won’t let you kill him without killing me first.”

Ten heaved a breath and took off his glasses, massaging his temple. Then, Yuta leapt up and shouted, “Yes! Run me my money!”

You blinked, only able to watch as Taeyong and Ten exasperatedly drew money from their pockets. Then, it hit you and you shrieked, “You bet money on me?”

“Damn right I did,” Yuta replied, not sparing you a glance as he counted his money.

Noticing the ridiculously perplexed looks on you and Mark’s faces, Ten explained, “Yuta’s had a sneaking suspicion that you were lying about the severity of your relationship with Mark. Jisung tried to tell us, but Taeyong and I thought he was biased because of how much you argue. Clearly not.”

Taeyong deadpanned, “Remind me not to make any more deals with either of you where money is concerned.”

Mark pulled you to his chest, smiling. Some things you just couldn’t hide. His love for you was one of them. “So, we’re off the hook?”

“I usually don't hesitate to punish people for defiance, but I’ll make an exception just this once,” Taeyong replied, smiling wryly. “I take it that your cousin’s gang is in your hands now. Don’t cause any trouble and you’re fine in my book.”

Mark nodded. He glanced down at you and knew that that wouldn’t be a problem. “Deal.”

That night, you and Mark danced in each other's arms, refusing to let go. It was like nothing could come in between you. You knew now that your love was worth the battle and the war. Love always finds a way, a dear friend had told you.

You asked over the music, “Wanna do something really crazy?”

Mark looked at you, eye’s screaming, “Yes!” He would do anything for you - give you the world if you wanted it. Instead of borderline professing his love for you and telling you things that you already knew, he asked, “Like what?”

“Let’s go to Vegas.”

Mark chortled. “That is kinda crazy.”

You argued, “Think about it - no one knows us there. It’ll just be me and you in a city full of people. Doesn’t that sound romantic?”

Mark hushed you and said, “Baby, please. I was already buying the plane tickets.”

You snickered. You knew you had Mark right where you wanted him. And it felt so goddamn good.

You and Mark stumbled out of the tattoo parlor. Given the long flight, you were utterly spent when you arrived, but the second you recharged you knew exactly what you wanted to do.

Get matching tattoos.

Initially, you thought it would have been difficult to convince Mark to get a tattoo with you. After all, they were permanent. But he was surprisingly willing and pleased with the results.

“To a lifetime and a half with you,” Mark told you, mounting the bike you’d left at the curbside of the parlor. You wanted to see how well he could drive one.

Grabbing the pink helmet he handed you, you beamed. Happiness made your heart beat and your blood circulate. “To a lifetime and a half with my Markie pooh,” you teased.

Mark rolled his eyes and wrapped your arms around his waist. “Hold on tight.”

You yelped when the motorbike jerked to life beneath you, and then you were soaring down the roads of Las Vegas, carefree and in love. Nobody could tell you anything when you were with the love of your life.

Love was the greatest weapon of all.

#mark smut #nct 127 smut #nct dream smut #nct smut #mark lee x reader #nct imagines #mark lee imagines #mark lee smut #nct x reader #nct #nct scenarios

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wheresarizona · 8 months

Text

Learning to Live Part 23

summary: Javier is living the fucking dream and has never been happier with the woman he planned to marry—until the mistakes of his past are brought to light, and his world comes crashing down.

rating: E (18+! Age gap (about ten years), Soft Javier Peña, Protective Javier Peña, Angry Javier Peña, explicit smut, unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), creampie, oral sex (m receiving), masturbating (f), deepthroating, spanking, dirty talk (he talks you through touching yourself), praise kink, breeding kink, spit mention, mentions of assplay, canon typical violence (Javier punches someone), angst, Chucho being the best dad, Javier being cute with baby animals, Javier saying very romantic things during sex)

pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader

word count: 12.1k+

a/n: I’m just going to say I’m sorry. This will be part 1 of 2 for the Colombia arc. This chapter is all in Javi’s POV, and the next will be in reader’s. Thank you to @juletheghoul for betaing!

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to know what you thought!

Prev - Next - Series Masterlist - Main Masterlist

The fifth of November landed on a Thursday this year, and the temperatures were finally beginning to come down—just not enough for Javier to turn off the air conditioning in his truck or wear his suit jacket on his drive, the navy blue garment hanging over the back of the middle seat with his burgundy-colored tie.

The news radio station was a low chatter while he had his left palm gripping the steering wheel, the other holding up his Nokia cellphone to his ear, waiting for the other person to pick up.

Ring.

“Murphy,” his old partner, Steve, answered.

“Hey, it’s me.”

“Hey, Jav—it’s earlier than you usually call. Are you off work already?” For the other man, it was a little after five o’clock his time, and from the sound of it, he was on the road heading home to his wife and kids.

Javier’s hand squeezed so tightly on the wheel it made the leather creak at imagining getting to do the same, his heart picking up in pace and a smile curling up on his lips that someday he would.

On Thursdays, he called Steve when he got off work—he did it when he worked for his dad, talking to his best friend while having a cold beer in the kitchen or cooling off from the hot day on the couch in the living room, always checking up on how Steve, Connie, and their three kids were doing. Once he started dating the woman who’d be his wife, the phone calls started taking place on his drive from the ranch to her apartment, then from his job at the Sheriff’s office to their shared apartment.

“Yeah,” he answered. “I had something to do and couldn’t wait to get the fuck out of there. I spent my whole fucking day prepping for that stupid fucking meeting tomorrow.”

The one with the DEA.

The one with the DEA that he didn’t want to have.

Communication with them over the phone was fine because it was easy to get out of the calls—feigning he had meetings to attend, or another call coming through from his boss, or he just didn’t answer and let it go to voicemail since he recognized the numbers.

And maybe there might have been a time or three when he just hung up on them simply out of annoyance.

But tomorrow was in person, and he had no choice except to sit through the asshole of an agent questioning every little fucking thing about the busts the narcotics unit made and having Javier try to explain why they still hadn’t found out how the drugs were getting smuggled into their region. He didn’t understand why he was getting grilled about it when there were multiple agencies in the area, including the fucking DEA, trying to figure it out. He knew this meeting would put the irritating shit he sat through as attaché in Colombia to shame.

“I still can’t believe he’s asking so many goddamn questions,” Steve replied. “You’ve been handing him busts on a silver platter, and if I were him, I’d be thanking you, not giving you so much shit.”

Javier sighed. “Yeah, you’d fucking think. Why does this guy even give a fuck about me?”

He could hear the smile in his friend’s voice. “Like I told you the first time you called about this asshole: it's his first big assignment, and The Javier-fuckin’-Peña is one of his contacts—” Javier scoffed. “He’s just trying too fucking hard and is jealous of all the arrests you’ve made. Plus, you work for a law enforcement agency, Javi. The DEA has relationships with law enforcement agencies, and yours is smack dab on the border of a country with a history of smuggling, so you’re gonna be popular whether you like it or not.”

“I fuckin’ hate it,” he grumbled.

Steve chuckled. “I know, but suck it up, and tomorrow, scare the kid shitless with that mean ol’ glare of yours so he’ll leave you the fuck alone.”

His eyebrows rose, nodding his head.

“That’s definitely an idea...”

His friend laughed.

“I’m serious,” Javier said. “He wouldn’t take the fucking hint when I hung up on him. I could just… scare him a little.” Frowning, he whispered, “Mi Cielito can’t know.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” Steve chuckled. “Things still good with you guys?”

The thought of her had him going soft, picturing her perfectly in his mind.

He smiled. “Things are going so fucking good.”

“I’m glad to hear that, Jav. She seems like a great girl.”

Taking a deep breath, he slowly let it out. “She’s fucking amazing, man—perfect, beautiful, wonderful. I love her so much and can’t wait to marry her.”

“Then propose to her already.” That made Javier frown. “You’ve known for months now that she’s the one, and you’re holding off, for what? A future date, when you can just do what you really wanna fucking do and marry her whenever you want. You’re not beholden to that date, Javi. Do what makes you happy.”

“When did you become a fucking motivational speaker?”

“When I became a dad—gotta give fatherly advice and pep talks. When you have a kid, you’ll become one, too.”

That made him smile again, thinking of his conversations with his father and how the older man always had wisdom to bestow upon him or knew exactly what to say. It was the same with his mom, almost as if once you became a parent, a plethora of knowledge was imparted on you to pass on to your child when, in actuality, it was just your life experience you were using to make sure your kid succeeded in life as best they could.

“I guess I will,” he replied. “Speaking of kids. How are mis sobrinos (niece and nephews)?”

The Murphys had three children.

Olivia was their eldest, who they adopted as a baby nine years ago in Colombia while Steve was working down there. Steve Jr., or Stevie, was three and their only biological child. Nathaniel, Nate for short, was just adopted the prior year and had turned one not too long ago.

Their kids (who could speak) called Javier ‘tío Javi,’ and he loved them all like they were his blood, sending presents on every birthday and Christmas that he double-checked with Connie they’d enjoy. Before the Thursday phone calls, it was a random day of the week calls when Javier had time while in the middle of trying to take down the Cali cartel, and they were a nice reprieve from the stress, especially when Olivia excitedly told him about her school day.

He spent a lot of time with them when he first got back to the States and even got to meet their new baby, but it’s been months since his last visit.

“They’re good. Pretty sure Olivia and Stevie are still on sugar highs from all the candy they got on Halloween.” That was the previous Sunday.

“What’d they dress up as?”

“Olivia was some princess from a cartoon movie with a beast, and she wore a pretty yellow dress—”

“Belle,” he interrupted. “She was Belle from Beauty and the Beast.”

“Yeah! That’s it. Wait. Why do you know that?”

“Lucky guess—what were Stevie and Nate?”

“Stevie was some blue spotted dog, and Nate was a lion.”

Javier was frowning.

He never celebrated Halloween growing up since Día de Los Muertos (Day of the Dead) overshadowed it, but if it was something his future wife wanted to do with their kids, he’d like them to have some kind of theme for their costumes… If he could get them to.

“I can’t wait to see the pictures,” he said, which was true. He kept all of the letters Connie sent with photos of their family while he’d been in Colombia and after he returned home. His girlfriend suggested putting them in an album after he’d taken her to the ranch and pulled out the small box containing the collection—so they got one that now lived on the bookshelf in their living room, hanging some of the pictures on their walls.

“Bring your girlfriend over here for Thanksgiving. We’d love to have you both.”

“Thanks for the offer, but we’ve got plans with my family.”

All his family members who lived in Laredo were getting together at his tía María’s, who had the biggest house, a good-sized patio space, and backyard to accommodate the dozens of adults and children who’d be in attendance to eat. He and Cielito would be spending the night before and morning of making pies and side dishes at the request of his three tías.

“Alright. But remember, our door is always open, and we’re dying to meet the woman that’s gonna make an honest man out of you.”

He snorted.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. We’re thinking sometime next month.”

“Any time is fine.”

“You want us to visit that bad?”

“Since the moment she found out you had a girlfriend, Connie has been on my ass about getting you to bring her here. For the love of god, Javier, please come visit us so she’ll leave me the fuck alone.”

“I’ll figure something out.”

“Thank you. Any time, Javi.”

“Probably right before my birthday.”

“Any time, just get your ass over here.”

“Will do.”

“I’m home, so I’ll talk to you later.”

“Give Connie and the kids my love.”

“Of course. Tell the future Mrs. Javier Peña we’re all excited to meet her.”

Javier smiled. “I will.”

“Bye, you asshole.”

“Adiós, pendejo (Goodbye, asshole).”

Clicking the end call button, he set the phone in the seat next to him and turned back up the radio, the top news stories being all about the latest midterm elections.

Minutes later, gravel crackled and popped under the truck tires as he drove down the long driveway past his father’s house to the back, parking in the empty spot beside his dad’s rig that, since he’d started driving, had always unofficially been his.

His door squealed when he opened it, his feet hitting the ground as he got out of his seat with his aviators sitting on the bridge of his nose, his phone put back in his pocket—the first few buttons of his white dress shirt were undone, taking a second to roll the sleeves up his forearms to make him more comfortable. Lifting his left wrist, his eyes narrowed to get a better read of the silver watch face, seeing he only had an hour before his future wife would be expecting him home, and by now, his family out here should’ve returned from checking on the herd of cattle; his father would either be in the small office across from the house doing paperwork or shirking his responsibilities elsewhere in the vicinity.

Javier went with his gut on where to find Chucho, the truck door slamming shut, the small rocks crunching under his steps as he made his way around the back of the vehicle heading toward the barns.

Passing the large paddock, all the horses, including his own, Sombra, and his tío’s, Enrique the Asshole, were stretching their legs and roaming around. His attention moved ahead to his primo (cousin) Diego, coming out of the new barn, wheeling a wheelbarrow full of hay his way.

The younger of his uncle’s sons got the Peña genes—brown hair, brown eyes, tan skin. The oldest, Sebastián, had a striking resemblance to his tío but was light-skinned and green-eyed like his Spanish mother. Their baby sister, Alma, and tío Ángel’s pride and joy was a mix of her parents—her mother’s beauty and eyes with her father’s tan skin and brown hair.

A beaming smile appeared on Diego’s face when he spotted Javier.

“¿Qué tal, Javi (What’s up, Javi)?” he asked as he approached. “¿Dónde está tu esposa (Where is your wife)?” he asked, looking around for Cielito and making Javier grin.

“Mi futura esposa está en nuestra casa (My future wife is at home). Estoy aquí para ver a mi papá (I’m here to see my dad). Necesito hablar con él (I need to talk to him).”

“Oh, él está allí en el granero de ganado (Oh, he’s over at the cattle barn),” he said, pointing in the direction with his thumb.

That was just what Javier suspected after something his dad said the previous day.

“Gracias, primo (Thank you, cousin). Tengo prisa (I’m in a hurry). Te veré el domingo en casa de tía María (I will see you Sunday at aunt Maria’s). ¡Adiós (Bye)!”

“¡Hasta luego (See you later)!”

His strides were long as he made his way toward the older barn, its wooden exterior wearing a new coat of bright red paint and the trim snow white. His father was standing at the pen’s fence, his straw cowboy hat shielding the sun’s rays as usual, holding a small plastic bucket in one of his hands, the other feeding carrots to the animals. Javier smiled that his assumption of what Chucho would be doing was correct as he approached, hearing his dad softly cooing words in Spanish.

“Stop spoiling mis hijas (my daughters),” Javier said, getting closer. At the sound of his voice, the two calves came bounding toward him on the other side of the fence, shoving their heads between the metal bars at him. He chuckled, crouching as he gave Daphne and Velma pets, their hair soft under his palms. “Hola, mis preciosas (Hello, my lovelies),” his tone was sweet. “Tan lindas que estan (You two are so cute). ¡Están creciendo tanto (You’re growing so much)! ¿Me extrañaron (Did you miss me)?”

At dinner the night before, Chucho had told them he was planning on bringing the girls in for a long weekend since they weren’t treated like the rest of the herd and didn’t live out on the pastures with them 24/7. His dad sometimes had them stay in the pen at the barn or hang out in his backyard. They were kept more like pets than cattle and spoiled as such.

He could hear his father’s footsteps coming near.

“I will spoil mis nietas bovinas (my bovine granddaughters) as much as I like since you haven’t given me any human ones to spoil… yet,” Chucho replied, holding the bucket toward him.

Javier groaned, this being a constant conversation they were having. “I know, I know, you’re not getting any younger—it’s gonna happen.” He took a couple of long orange carrots and started feeding them to the girls, who were happily munching away. “Like I’ve told you before. There’s just some shit we gotta take care of first, and fuck, we’ll need to buy a house.” The thought of hunting for one sounded like a real pain in the ass, especially with everything they’d want it to have.

“Javi?”

His head tilted up to meet his dad’s eyes. “Yeah?”

“Have you guys thought about building a house?”

Javier’s eyebrows dipped together.

They’d discussed what their future home would need—a big backyard for garden space, a spacious living room, and a good-sized kitchen. They also planned to move into a house around the summer of the following year. If they were to build, though, it would be to their specifications. He could give his future wife the kitchen of her dreams, a big sunroom for her plants, and a soundproofed master suite.

“We haven’t…” he answered slowly. “We’d have to find land, an architect, contractor, whatever fucking else is needed to build a house.”

“The land is taken care of,” Chucho said with a wave of his free hand like it was no big deal.

Javier knew he had to look confused. “What?”

Daphne and Velma had finished eating, and he was back to petting them.

His dad smiled. “I’ve got all this land, Mijo.” He held out his arms. “Be my next-door neighbor, or live up the road. Don’t stress yourselves out over finding the perfect house when you can just build it—and with us living so close together, it’ll be easy for you to bring mis nietos humanos (my human grandchildren) over all the time.”

Javier’s eyebrow arched. “How do you know we’re gonna have more than one kid?”

He hoped they would and wanted as many children with her as she was willing to have.

There was a sad smile on Chucho’s face. “Because you’ve always wanted to be a father, Javi,” he answered, and Javier’s heart clenched hard. “That whole mess all those years ago before you left? You didn’t want to marry her, and I don’t blame you. She told you she was pregnant, and you just wanted to do what was best for your unborn baby—they were your main priority, and you were willing to do anything for them. Yes, you were scared about becoming a dad, but we could see you were excited, too, and how much you loved that child you thought existed.” His dad put a comforting palm on his shoulder. “You were ready to devote yourself to being the best father to them.” Javier’s eyes were watering because it was true he always wanted to be a dad, and he didn’t think anyone knew. “I know her lie hurt you deeply, Mijo, and also gave you relief, but it’s such a good thing you didn’t end up marrying her because look at where you’re at now.” The older man was softly smiling now. “You found the right woman who truly loves you, and your mother would’ve loved—I sure do, and when you hold your child for the first time, you will fall in love with them immediately and want ten more,” he chuckled.

Javier laughed through the tears, taking off his sunglasses to wipe at his eyes with the back of his arm before putting them back on.

“Also,” Chucho continued, “I know you’ll have more than one because the two of you can’t be left alone for more than five minutes—it’s surprising she hasn’t fallen pregnant yet.”

“She has good birth control.”

Too good, in Javier’s opinion.

He started to stand up, involuntarily grunting from the ache in his knees and lower back.

His dad’s eyebrows rose, nodding his head. “Well, that explains things. You were just here yesterday. I wasn’t expecting to see you again until Sunday. Something on your mind, Mijo?”

Therapy had been a fucking godsend, and Javier no longer constantly worried about shit, feeling like he was finally in control of his thoughts and emotions. Still, sometimes, he just wanted to drink a beer with his dad and talk about what was on his mind.

Javier smiled cheekily. “More like someone on my mind.”

Chucho laughed. “She’s always on your mind!”

“Yeah, she is, but, uh—” He scratched at the back of his head. “—I needed to talk to you about something alone…”

The elder Peña sobered up immediately, putting a hand out to squeeze his arm. “Is everything okay, Javi?”

Javier gave him a smile. “Everything’s fucking amazing—especially with her, and that’s why I’m out here…”

His father’s face lit up with a huge grin as the realization dawned on him. “¡No puedo esperar para decírselo a tu mamá (I can’t wait to tell your mom)! Vamos a la casa y me lo puedes contar todo (Let’s go to the house, and you can tell me everything).”

On the drive to their apartment, there was a lot to think about between the meeting the next day and plans for the future. The whole building a house was a great idea that he wanted to run by Cielito to see what she thought about it, then there was the other thing he needed to figure out…

Arriving home at his usual time, it wasn’t a surprise her car was already parked in her spot when he pulled up since she was usually off a little earlier than him. His truck took the space beside hers, towering over her tiny Honda that Javier had to contort his body in order to drive when he took it every weekend to fill the gas tank.

Before leaving the ranch, he washed his hands and hoped his cologne masked any kind of animal smells, not wanting her to know where he’d been—if she happened to ask, he’d tell her the truth of his whereabouts because there was no reason to lie.

Walking to the apartment, his suit jacket and tie were dangling over his arm, the other hand holding his keys that jingled as he unlocked the front door. Once inside, he shut the door and locked it, tossing his ring of keys into the large bowl on the long, narrow console table in the entryway, toeing off his Chelsea boots in front of the shoe rack on the floor beside it.

His body completely relaxed, a long, relieved sigh leaving him at finally being home.

The familiar smell of the apartment calmed him—he was safe here, he was loved.

“Cielito?” he called, turning toward the rest of the room and immediately jumping in his skin at her standing right there in front of him. “Jesus Christ,” Javier breathed, his heart pounding in his chest, pressing his hand over it.

She wore a deep purple oversized t-shirt that had faded and thinned over being washed and worn so many times, her legs bare beneath it.

A laugh sputtered from her lips. “I’m sorry for spooking you,” she said, moving forward to wrap her arms around his middle. He hugged her back with his free arm, a smile turning up on his mouth. “This was supposed to be horny, not scary.”

“How is you scaring the shit out of me supposed to be horny?” he asked, kissing her forehead.

Pulling back, there was a mischievous grin on her face. “Give me your jacket and tie.” He handed both over, watching as she turned to toss them on the couch behind her. When her attention returned to him, she said, “Okay, so you carrying your jacket kinda threw off my groove. Now, pretend you just took off your shoes and are super happy to be home.”

“I did just take off my boots, and I am happy to be home…” he replied with knitted brows.

“Yes, I know, but turn this way—” She made him face the shoes again. “—Okay,” she said, taking steps away from him. He turned his head toward her. “No! Don’t look at me yet!” Her outburst startled him, making him look forward once more.

“Mi amor (my love), what are you doing?” he asked.

“You’ll see, and you’re gonna love it. Trust me.”

“I trust you, Cielito. I trust you more than anyone else.”

And he did.

There wasn’t anyone else he trusted more or with whom he felt comfortable being genuinely vulnerable. Yes, he still hadn’t told her about Colombia, but he just wasn’t ready to open all of the old wounds and muddy her with the blood of all of the awful shit he’d seen and done—honestly, he didn’t want to think about any of it or bring her into that world, he liked keeping her separate from it all.

She was heaven. Colombia had been hell.

So, he was biding his time.

“I know, you big cutie,” she said. “Okay, now turn.”

He was beyond confused and unsure what was going on, but she was excited, so he was more than willing to go along with it, knowing she’d make whatever it was good.

Turning in place toward her, he was met with a look of determination on her face as she came at him quickly, his eyes widening when she grabbed the open collar of his dress shirt, shoving him back against the front door, smashing her mouth against his as she kissed him hard.

Smiling into her lips, one of his arms pulled her close, the other hand going lower to grab a handful of her ass, groaning when he found no underwear.

She was right. He definitely loved this.

Blood rushed to his groin, his cock twitching when she slipped her tongue into his mouth to tangle with his own. Her hand slithered down the tight space of their bodies to rub over his hardening length, making him moan when she nipped at his bottom lip, arousal igniting in his belly.

Her mouth was a hair's breadth away from his as she breathily whispered, “I wanna suck your dick. Can I, Javi? Can I choke on this big cock?” She ended the question by lightly squeezing it in its half-hard state.

“You can do whatever the fuck you want to me,” he answered huskily, feeling her smile when she kissed him.

Both of his hands were now under the hem of her shirt, groping her bare backside.

“You don’t know what you’re offering when you say that,” she murmured into his lips.

“Yes, I do,” came his muffled answer. “Anything. You love my ass as much as I love yours.” He squeezed her asscheeks in his big palms.

The revelation he was into assplay was surprising, to say the least. Now in the right circumstances, he loved when she used her fingers while going down on him, or there was that one time she experimented with her mouth, and he about lost his damn mind.

“I do love your ass and you, but I didn’t bring lube.”

He smiled. “Later then, and I love you, too,” he replied, kissing her harder.

He deepened the kiss, their tongues moving together in a practiced dance while she made sounds in the back of her throat that went straight to his cock, loving how her scent was enveloping him—knowing he’d smell her all over him by the time they were done, it permeating his clothes, his hair, and his skin, hating that he’d have to wash it all away later.

When her lips left his to take a breath, the plush softness of them met his chin, then her teeth lightly nibbled, making him smile while both of her hands went to the front of his pants—his belt clinked as she expertly undid it, popping open the button of his slacks, unzipping them, his dick now completely hard.

“You’ve been on my mind all day,” she said in that sultry tone she knew drove him wild, unable to keep from giving her a quick kiss.

“What were you thinking about, Cielito?”

She looked up at him under her lashes, crookedly smiling.

“Sucking this beautiful dick,” she answered, stroking it over his pants, the sensation making his breath hitch in his throat.

His tongue wet his bottom lip, wanting nothing more than her mouth on him. “What else, baby?”

“Well, we haven’t fooled around since Monday—“ Fuck, had it really been since he tied up her hands and fucked her in the kitchen? “—because you had to work late Tuesday, and we went to your dad’s last night.” Her free hand went up his chest. “So I’m really in the mood for you to make me feel it tomorrow.” She bit her lower lip.

“I can do that,” he replied. He covered her hand on his cock with his own. “This is yours, and you can have it any fucking way you want it, mi amor (my love).”

Her mouth collided with his, saying as she kissed him, “God, you’re so hot—I love you so fucking much.”

It made him smile. “I love you, too.”

One last kiss, and she was crouching in front of him, yanking the navy blue material down his thighs, leaving his dick confined by his white boxer briefs. She rubbed him over them, his chin dropping to watch as she mouthed at his hard length over the cotton, the warmth of her mouth causing his own to go slack and his skin to heat.

Her hands went up his thighs, the color of her neatly trimmed nails catching his attention.

His words came out rougher and deeper, a smile on his lips as he picked up her hand and inspected it, “You’re wearing the nail polish I picked out.” It was bright cherry red, and he’d chosen it the prior day at the drugstore before they’d gone out to the ranch, the cheesy name on the cap of the bottle reading, ‘Not Red-y for Bed.’ “It looks fucking gorgeous on you, baby,” he continued, swiping his thumb over the tops of her fingers.

She grinned up at him. “Thanks. My future husband has excellent taste,” she replied with a wink. “Now stop distracting me from sucking your dick.”

“Yes, mi reina (my queen),” he said, letting her palm go and watching as her beautiful fingers pulled down his underwear, his cock springing free. Moving onto her knees, he was glad they were cushioned by the soft, thick runner rug they’d invested in, her spitting in her palm and taking him in hand, his mouth falling open at the first stroke.

He started working open the buttons of his shirt, keeping his eyes on her as she languidly jerked him, getting glimpses of her red nails when she’d twist on the upstroke, and fuck, they looked good wrapped around his dick.

She took him into her mouth, and Javier forgot how to breathe.

There was only one button left to undo on his dress shirt, but that didn’t matter with her gaze on him, watching as she hummed in enjoyment, taking him further and further into her hot, wet heat. Her other hand slipped between her legs, and his cock twitched that she was touching herself.

“Fuck, hermosa (beautiful),” he rasped, his hand resting on the back of her head. Javier gulped hard at the pleasure. “It feels so fucking good, Cielito—you’re so fucking beautiful playing with your pretty little pussy while my dick is in your mouth. You gonna make yourself come, baby? Can you do that for me? Come all over those gorgeous fingers.”

She moaned while continuing to blow him, doing this swirly thing with her tongue around the tip and on the underside of his cock that had him groaning loudly. His hips were rocking, knowing she was on her way to turning him into an absolute mess.

Her eyes were watching him through her lashes, all heavy-lidded and dark, the arousal evident in her gaze while her lips stretched around his dick and her head bobbed, twirling her tongue around the head on each upstroke. Her hand worked what couldn’t fit, the other moving at the apex of her thighs.

“Are you rubbing your clit?” he roughly asked. “Does it get you off sucking my cock? You like this, don’t you? You like getting yourself off while choking on it.”

That made her moan again, and he could see on her face how much she was enjoying this.

Truth be told, before her, Javier didn’t really care for blow jobs—not that he didn’t like them, he loved them; the problem was he could tell when his partner wasn’t into it, and there was no bigger turn-off than someone doing something they didn’t want to do.

But Cielito was different.

He was pretty fucking sure she had some kind of addiction to sucking his dick with how often she wanted to do it, and the thing was, every, single, time, he could tell she was having the best time—he had never seen someone enjoy blowing him more.

Javier loved it when she wanted to go down on him, her enthusiasm making it incredible.

All of a sudden, her mouth came off him, a string of spit keeping them connected as her eyes closed, and he knew that look on her face. Her free hand left him to pluck at her pebbled nipple through her shirt.

“Are you gonna come for me?” he asked, curling his fist around his wet cock, slowly jacking off as he watched. “You gonna be my good fucking girl and come for me?”

“Yes,” she moaned, nodding. “So close.”

“I was gonna get down there and eat you out—make you come on my fingers and tongue, but I think you’d like it better if I didn’t loosen you up before I got my dick inside you. Isn’t that right, baby?” Her breath stuttered, a sheen of sweat coating her forehead. “It’s been three fucking days, and you want to feel how big I am—how much I stretch you open.” Soft sounds were spilling from her lips that were getting louder. “You’re my dirty fucking girl and want to feel me all day tomorrow while you’re at work.” He could tell she was close. “I bet you’ll want me to fuck you again tonight in bed and tomorrow before work so you’re stuffed full of my come—”

Her body tensed up, coming with a gasp of his name, and he smiled.

“There it is,” he said. “Such a good girl—you did so good for me, mi amor (my love). God, you’re amazing. It’s fucking sexy how hungry you are for my dick.”

Her eyes blinked open, smiling dreamily at him. “Because it’s perfect,” she replied. “And you’re perfect—you make the best noises when I go down on you, and you never try to fuck my face without asking or are ever pushy.” Her eyebrows furrowed. “I honestly don’t think you’ve ever asked me for a BJ, which is shocking.”

He was smiling. “I’ve never needed to, and I wouldn’t.”

Her brow arched. “You wouldn’t ask for a blow job?”

“I only want one if it’s something you want to do—otherwise, I’d rather just fuck or eat your pussy,” he answered with a shrug.

“I am living the fucking dream. Now move your hand; I wanna feel you in my throat.”

He chuckled, doing as she said, and was not at all surprised when her lips wrapped around his cock. She bobbed her head, working him inch by inch into her mouth until she swallowed him down into her throat, taking him all the way to the root, Javier groaning.

Those bright red nails were digging into his thighs, the knot in his belly was beginning to wind tighter, and his cock pulsing in the tight space. Sweat coated his brow, a flush crawling up his chest and neck, his heart pounding in his chest.

Her eyes were on his, tears gathering at the edges, saliva escaping at the sides of her mouth, and he thought she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

“My good fucking girl,” he praised, feeling where he was bulging in her throat. “Such a good fucking girl taking my dick down your throat—god, I love you so much.”

She gurgled around him like she was replying, ‘I love you, too,’ then her head was coming up, sputtering as she coughed.

“You okay?” he asked.

She gave him a thumbs up, finally answering, “Yeah.” Saliva was coating her chin and around her lips while she breathed hard.

His thumb slid along her bottom lip as he smiled. “Hermosa (Beautiful),” he said.

“Messy,” she corrected.

“Still beautiful.”

Playfully, she rolled her eyes. “Fine. I’m not done.”

Not wasting another second, she took the tip back into her mouth, circling her tongue around the sensitive ridges. Javier swallowed thickly, feeling the pleasure build inside him, entranced with her stroking him again, the flash of red as her hand easily glided up and down his spit-slicked shaft. When her other hand started lightly massaging his balls, his cock jerked, a shaky breath leaving his lips.

He didn’t want to come like this.

Quickly, he got the last button on his shirt undone, shrugging it off and tossing it toward the couch, it landing on the floor.

“Baby?” he said, her eyes immediately meeting his while pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses down his shaft.

“Hmm?” She hummed.

“Don’t make me come.”

The power was in her hands.

“You close?” she asked before being fucking mean and dipping her head low to lick at his sack.

“Fuck,” he moaned. His throat bobbed as he thickly swallowed, trying to control his breathing and the tightening in his gut, not wanting to blow his load so soon. There was no other choice but to gently push at her shoulder. “Stop,” he gasped, and she did immediately, hands and mouth coming off him. “Thank you,” he panted, swiping at the sweat on his forehead with his arm. She shuffled back on her knees, looking up at him. “Do you want me to eat your pussy or give you my dick?” he asked. He was fine with either and was pretty sure she was going to choose—

“Dick,” she answered immediately.

He smirked. “Fucking knew it.” His thumbs went into the waistband of his boxer briefs, shoving them and his slacks down to his ankles before peeling off his socks. Groaning, he straightened and held out his hands to her, saying, “Come on, mi futura esposa (my future wife). You deserve better than getting fucked on the floor.”

She accepted his help, Javier grunting as he pulled her up to stand in front of him.

“Fucking on the floor is hot, though,” she pouted.

“Sometimes,” he said, grabbing her hips and turning her the other way. “Most of the time, it just fucks up my back and knees, and I don’t want to deal with that shit tomorrow. Let’s go.” He smacked both of her asscheeks to get her to start moving, earning a giggle as he followed her to the bedroom.

Their first big purchase as a couple was upgrading the queen-sized bed she’d already had to a king. They’d gotten a sturdy frame that Javier tweaked to ensure there’d be no squeaking and a white metal headboard that was arched with thin vertical slats for obvious reasons, precautions made so it wouldn’t bang against the wall—yes, he did spend an entire Saturday morning sex-proofing their new bed for the sake of their elderly next door neighbor who glared at him every time they crossed paths.

Late afternoon sunlight was slipping through the cracks in the closed blinds and illuminating the blue linen curtains covering them in their shared room. The only lights on were both bedside lamps—her watch, a paperback, alarm clock, and a corded telephone accompanying hers; a small framed picture of them kissing with fireworks going off above their heads that his dad took at the town’s Fourth of July event, a book with his extra pair of reading glasses on top of it, and his alarm clock beside his.

His attention was on her ass as she crawled up onto the bed, his knees sinking into the mattress when he followed. Once she was far enough up the bed, he pounced, gripping handfuls of her backside and tackling her to lay flat on her stomach, making her laugh when he sunk his teeth into her plump flesh. It made him smile, placing a loud, smacking kiss over the indents of his teeth before he sat up and helped her flip onto her back, his hips nestling in the space between her thighs.

Their noses were almost touching, his arm beside her head holding him up while his other hand rubbed up and down her belly over her shirt.

“Hi,” he said.

She smiled, sliding her fingers into the hair at the back of his head, making him shiver. “Hi, babe. I love how we get so horny we forget to greet each other.” She quickly pecked him on the lips.

“Or you decide to scare the shit out of me.”

“I really didn’t mean to. I was just trying to channel my inner Javi.”

His eyebrows dipped together.

“What?”

“You know, just showing up and going zero to horny in under thirty seconds. Like Monday, when you stormed into the kitchen and started making out with me? That was so hot. I was trying to be like that.”

He smiled. “You’re cute,” he said, nuzzling her nose. “Don’t sneak up on me next time, and it’ll go better.”

“Noted.” She pulled him in for a kiss, and he happily reciprocated, deepening it quickly with a slide of his tongue along her lip for her to open. His cock was still hard, pressing into her skin, his hand moving up to palm her shirt-covered breast, listening to those sounds he loved coming from her throat while they kissed, and kissed, and kissed.

His lips left hers to catch his breath, moving them along her jaw to nibble at her chin.

“I love you in this shirt,” he said into her skin.

“Thanks,” she panted. “It’s comfy. Now please, fuck me, Javi.”

“Need my dick, Cielito?” He kissed over her pulse point, feeling the steady beat of her heart beneath his lips.

“Yes,” she answered.

That was all the answer he needed, pushing up with a grunt to sit up on his knees while she turned onto her stomach, which required him to help move her legs around him. Her hips rose automatically without his help, presenting her glistening pussy, and that had a shock of arousal hitting his gut at how ready she was for him. His cock throbbed between his legs, wanting to feel her squeeze around him.

One hand smoothed over her ass, spitting on the fingers of the other that he rubbed over her entrance, repeating the action to slick his dick up, notching himself at her drenched hole.

“You ready?” he asked.

Her head was resting on her crossed arms. “Dámelo (Give it to me).”

“Es tuyo, mi reina (It’s yours, my queen),” he replied, pushing in.

His eyes slipped shut, and his mouth went slack as her hot, velvety walls embraced him, smoothly sliding all the way home in one thrust.

“Fuck,” he breathed, it feeling like her tight heat was trying to suck him in deeper.

“God, that’s good,” she moaned.

Pulling out halfway, he pushed easily back in. “Fucking love this pussy—sit up with me.” He tapped her hip.

Her legs were on either side of his, getting her up on her knees to have her back to his chest, his arm going across her front to hold her breast, the other palm gliding down the soft cotton of her shirt to the apex of her thighs.

His pace was slow; there was no hurry, wanting her to really feel him by keeping his cock buried deep inside her, barely thrusting in and out while moving his hips in a circular pattern. He welcomed it when she reached behind to dig her cherry-colored nails into his ass, her other set doing the same to his arm as she softly moaned, the fire in his belly slowly building.

Had he really gone three days without this? Feeling her warmth, the way it rippled through his body, and her softness, having her so close to him, and the connection. He needed to feel more of her. He needed more of her skin on his. He needed it all.

His thrusts didn’t waver as he pressed his lips to the shell of her ear, whispering, “Mi amor (My love)?”

“Yes?” she gasped.

“Do you wanna keep the shirt on?”

Even though he told her constantly how attractive he found her and her body, there were still times when she felt more comfortable wearing a shirt during sex, and he respected that.

“No.”

As soon as the word left her lips, he was tugging it up, her arms going over her head for him to get it off, tossing it to the floor.

Pulling her back, her skin on his felt amazing, languidly moving in her while he kissed along her shoulder and neck and up to bite at her earlobe. His fingers between her legs were rubbing at her swollen clit, his other hand plucking at her hardened nipple, feeling her arousal dripping down his dick.

His lips were back at her ear, panting hot breaths against it as he asked, “Did your needy little pussy miss me, baby? Did it miss being stuffed with my cock or my come?”

“Both,” she moaned.

With the way her cunt was starting to flutter, he knew she was getting close. Their bodies were sticky with sweat, not caring how they stuck together or the wet sounds where they were joined, Javier smiling at hearing the wet suck of his dick moving in and out of her sopping pussy.

The angle was awkward, but he kissed her cheek, and she turned her head to chase his lips, kissing him while he built her up higher and higher, his own orgasm taking shape at the base of his spine.

His mouth went back to press at her shoulders, Javier in heaven.

“I love you so fucking much,” he said through heavy breaths, muffled into her skin. “So fucking much. Eres todo para mí y siempre lo serás (You’re everything to me and always will be). Te daría la luna si pudiera (I would give you the moon if I could). Te daría todas las estrellas del cielo (I would give you every star in the sky).” He started moving a little faster, putting more pressure on her clit, her moans getting louder. “Te mereces todo y más y movería cielos y tierra para dártelo si pudiera (You deserve everything and more and I would move heaven and earth to give it to you if I could). Pero solo soy un hombre así que te estoy dando todo de mí (But I am just a man, so I am giving you all of me). Cada parte de mí te pertenece porque yo soy tuyo y siempre seré tuyo (Every part of me belongs to you because I am yours and I will always be yours).”

Her pussy seized up tight around him as she came with a cry of his name, his fingers gently swirling over her sensitive bundle of nerves to help her ride out the wave.

“So good to me,” he softly said, kissing the side of her neck. “You did so fucking good for me, my good girl—god, I love you.”

It took some seconds for her to speak, her voice sounding rougher than usual. “Javier, why would you say absurdly romantic shit you know is gonna make me cry while you’re balls deep inside me and on the cusp of making me come?”

“I don’t know,” he panted, shrugging. “Felt right. Still got you off, though,” he pointed out.

“Yes, and cry at the same time, which is rude.” She wiped at her eyes.

His hands were rubbing circles on her hips.

“I don’t see that as a bad thing—are you still wanting the special thing you say I’m good at?”

“The Javi special, that you know the name of and refuse to use—” That was true. “—Yes. Pretty please.”

He smacked her thigh. “Hands and knees, baby.”

His cock was still achingly hard inside her when she lowered onto her arms, figuring he could go a bit longer before he’d come. Gripping the flesh of her hips, he moved, watching as he pulled almost all the way out, seeing himself shining in her juices and fucking back into her hard. She loved getting pounded from behind, and he was more than happy to oblige with his dick slickly moving fast in and out of her tight, hot heat, carving out space inside her with every stroke that had her mewling.

A layer of sweat was coating his forehead and chest, feeling a drop slide down his cheek while he grunted in exertion, fucking her how she wanted, her moans of his name spurring him on. His big hands grabbed onto the cheeks of her ass and squeezed them, gripping them to pull her back and fuck her on his cock. One left her, coming back down on the jiggling flesh with a loud smack that had her cunt clenching around him and her crying out in pleasure. He kept up the punishing pace, his heart thudding in his chest, spanking her again in the same spot, then on the other side, feeling her getting wetter.

“You gonna give me one more?” he asked through bared teeth.

Her arms and legs were trembling, and he was pretty sure he could make her come one more time. It looked like she couldn’t hold up her weight anymore, moving onto her forearm, her head resting to the side on it, noticing her other arm had gone under her body to play with her clit.

“Javi?” she gasped his name.

“Yeah?” he answered.

“I want you to come inside me.”

Pleasure was curling and knotting in his gut, and her words ramped it up.

“I will.”

“I wanna feel you come inside me.”

That sentence confused the fuck out of him in his wrecked state, not knowing at all what she meant since he already said he was going to do it.

“I’ll fill you up, baby,” he panted, now focusing on chasing his high, closing his eyes, needing that sweet release more than anything. “I’ll fuck you full of me, stuff you full of my come, and get you preg—” The sentence cut off into a strangled moan as she reached between her legs to cup his sack, the sensation tipping him over the edge, hitting the point of no return. He pushed into her all the way as his balls tightened, and he came, his cock jerking hard, pumping spurts and spurts of his spend inside her. His mind had gone blank, euphoria taking over every molecule in his body, feeling her cunt spasming and tightening around him as she went with him.

When a coherent thought came to him, it was that he needed to lie down—a hiss slipping through his teeth when he pulled out, moving to fall onto the mattress beside her.

The second thing to cross his mind as the cool air in the room felt chillier on his sweat-dampened skin was he missed her warmth—frowning, he sat up with a groan, his heavy-lidded eyes seeing she was sprawled out next to him.

“Lay back down,” she said, turning her head toward him with a little smile and looking just as wrung out as he felt. “I could feel your sad eyes on me.” She yawned, speaking through it, “I just needed a second to be able to move—I was heading your way, baby.”

He didn’t have to be told twice, lying back down and getting comfortable with his head cushioned on a pillow. Seconds later, she was in his space, making herself at home with her body half on top of his, Javier smiling when her fingers slid into his sweat-dampened hair, wrapping his arms around her.

His words were rough. “That was new.”

“Robyn told me about it.” That was her best friend and co-worker. “But I just made it extra horny by feeling them while you came.”

“I liked it.”

“Good.”

She cuddled closer to him, sighing happily as they laid there.

If someone asked him what his favorite thing in the entire world was to do, his answer would be what they were doing right now—not the sex, but the being naked, holding each other in their relaxed, happy states, enjoying the other's company.

This was also when he was most vulnerable physically but mentally, too. All his carefully built walls crumbling, aware that he’d answer any question she asked him and ignoring the one on the tip of his tongue that he could taste the words of.

“Yes,” she said, tilting her head up to kiss under his jaw, and his heart started hammering that maybe he said aloud what he was thinking.

His lips pressed to her forehead. “Yes, what?”

“Just practicing how I’ll answer when you finally ask—I wanna be ready.”

He smiled.

“I do.”

“Huh?”

“Just practicing how I’ll answer when I’m asked if I’ll take you as my wife.”

She sat up to hover her face over his, looking him in the eyes. “That was really fucking smooth.” He smiled. “I love you, Javi, more than anything.” Her lips met his, kissing him tenderly, his hand cradling the back of her head.

They separated after a few seconds. “I love you, too,” he replied.

Her red-nailed fingers pushed the hair off his forehead while she looked at him fondly. “I know you do. Let’s go shower, and then we can make dinner.” She started to get up, moving to the edge of the bed. “Does pasta sound good?” she asked as she stood.

His back protested when he sat up and got out of bed from the opposite side. “Sounds great. We’ve got stuff for salad, too.”

“We do.” She nodded, her head turning to look at him.

“Go start warming up the shower. I’m gonna go grab my clothes from the living room.”

Her mouth turned up in a grin. “What a good, responsible man, cleaning up after his sexcapades. Okay, hurry up!” She started heading for the en suite, and he went to grab the pile he left by the front door, taking out his wallet from his pants pocket and putting it in the bowl on the table, picking up his dress shirt from the floor, grabbing his suit jacket and tie.

He could hear the overhead fan blowing and the water running in the bathroom, light streaming out from the door that was almost all the way closed.

Tossing his clothes on the bed, he kept his pants in his hands as he walked the few steps to his dresser beside the bedroom door, glancing toward the noises over his shoulder before pulling open the top drawer that contained his socks and underwear. His hand went into the pocket of his slacks, pulling out the small white leather ring box, popping it open to see the gold band with a modest-sized diamond in the middle with two smaller ones on each side.

“You don’t know that you’re gonna get to answer that question a lot sooner than planned,” he whispered, “and I can’t wait to see you wearing this.”

“Javi?” she called from the bathroom.

Quickly, he shut the box. “Coming!” He dug into the back of his drawer for the old pair of wool socks he never wore, bundling the ring box inside of them and stashing it away in the depths.

Now, all he had to figure out was when.

Friday, November 6, 11:58 AM

The conference room didn’t have a fucking clock.

He needed a cigarette, his fingers itching for one, thinking he could probably bum a smoke off of someone when this was over. His reading glasses were sitting on the bridge of his nose as he brought up his wrist to read his watch for probably the thirtieth time in the last fifty-eight minutes he’d been in this pointless meeting.

The DEA agent he was currently half-listening to and who has been the bane of his existence since he started this job, had come in on some kind of power trip, thinking he had authority over Javier and the people he worked with—it’s been an ongoing issue and a reason there was animosity between the two men.

It all made sense when he finally put a face to the name of asshole DEA agent Jesse Clemons.

The other man was in his late twenties, if he had to guess—definitely too young for the assignment he’d been given since there was no way he had enough experience, and he was hiding it by being a grade-A dick. In terms of looks, the kid was smaller than him, thinner, shorter, with the face of an average white male, and had the attitude of someone whose parents paid for him to get into an Ivy League school—which made Javier think he had connections that landed him this job since something about the guy screamed ‘nepotism hire.’

Javier put him in his place before they even sat down and made it clear he was the one in charge here—possibly scaring him too much because the kid was stuttering and stammering through the whole meeting.

Glancing at his watch, he saw the hour was finally up.

“Well,” he said, interrupting the agent as he closed the files before him, putting them into a stack. “I’ve got another appointment to get to.” Standing, he took off his glasses, sliding them into the inner pocket of his suit jacket, and picked up the manila folders. “It was nice to meet you in person, and we’ll see how your suggestions play out.” They wouldn’t. “Doors this way.” He held out his arm toward it.

The agent looked relieved it was over, quickly putting his things away in his brown leather briefcase and letting Javier usher him out of the room.

They paused just outside the door.

“Thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule to meet with me, sir,” Jesse said, holding out his hand that Javier quickly shook.

“Yeah.”

“My, uh—“ He scratched at the back of his neck. “—My nana sends her regards.”

That had Javier’s eyebrows pulling together as he tried to figure out who he could possibly be talking about.

“Your… nana...?”

“Yes, my grandma Noonan. She was a former ambassador in Colombia…”

Javier huffed out a breath—there it was, the reason this kid was hired. His grandma was a real hardass but pretty decent at her job, and with her connections, it’s no wonder her grandson had such an important assignment.

“Yeah, I remember your nana. You give her my best. Thanks for stopping by.”

The younger man nodded, retreating down the hallway.

Javier sure as fuck didn’t miss the DEA and their bullshit, the meeting turning out to be just as irritating as he’d expected it to be. He’d been prepared for the questions and had the files to back up his answers and prove they’d been working their asses off.

The only good thing about this was that the kid would probably leave him alone now, or at the very least only be in contact when necessary, which is what Javier hoped.

Once the agent disappeared around the corner at the end of the hall, he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in, his eyes closing for a moment.

He didn’t actually have another appointment. It was lunchtime for him and the woman he loved, who he needed to talk to in order to calm his nerves.

“Never thought I’d see you again.” That voice hadn’t spoken to him since he uncovered just how corrupt the Colombian government was. His eyes flew open, turning his head toward them.

“Why the fuck am I seeing you, Stechner?” he practically spat out.

Bill Stechner looked balder and his beard longer, standing half a dozen steps from him down the hall. His appearance had Javier’s heart speeding up and jaw clenching, knowing that nothing good would come from this.

The older man walked a little closer as he spoke, holding a file in one hand and the other in his pocket, “I was in the neighborhood on business and heard you were working here. Wanted to stop by and see how my old friend was doing.”

His eyes narrowed.

“We’ve never been friends, and how I’m doing is none of your fucking business.”

“What? I can’t be happy for you?”

Javier’s blood ran cold—what the fuck did he know?

Stechner removed the hand from his pocket to open the folder. “You know,” he continued, glancing down at it. “That girl of yours is too good for you.”

Dread came over him, feeling the heaviness of it in his gut and having to swallow hard because there was a chance he might throw up.

“I know she is,” he answered.

“No, no, I mean she’s really too good for you and is another woman with questionable taste in men. Did you know she graduated top of her class in college?” He didn’t. “She had the pick of any hospital in the country, and she chose Dallas, which, let me tell you, is quite far from her family, but I’m sure you know that.” He did. “Speaking of her family—” Stechner flipped a page. “—talk about notoriety and wealth. I’m honestly surprised you live in that tiny condo with all of the money she has. Looking at this, she should be with a doctor, or a surgeon, hell, even someone from a family as affluent as hers.” An opinion her parents shared. “I’m not seeing why she’d choose a disgraced farmer boy.” His teeth clenched, the sentence repeating over and over in his head, ‘Because she loves me. Because she loves me.’ The other man looked up to meet his eyes. “But you, the only reason you’re with her is the money, right? Because someone like you isn’t the settling down type. You can’t stick to just one woman, and with that kind of cash, you can afford more pussy than you were paying for with Uncle Sam’s money in Colombia.”

What money? What money was he talking about?

The jabs about his sex life were fine; he was used to it, but he was beyond confused at being accused of only dating Cielito for her money since he’d seen her bank statements—they sat at their kitchen table writing checks to pay bills together every month, and balance their checkbooks. Her accounts weren’t anything crazy, and his savings was even bigger than hers from not having to pay for a lot in Colombia. Her job did make more than his, though; that was a fact and understandable with the work she did.

But she wasn’t some millionaire, which was what was being implied.

Maybe he was assuming that since her family had money, she did, too?

Too bad his research didn’t tell him her relationship with her family was strained with them all being a bunch of uptight, snobby dicks and that there was a chance she’d been written out of her parents' wills due to her life choices (dating him)—so, she didn’t have access to their money.

Everything else Stechner said had him taken aback at how he’d managed to tug at Javier’s relationship insecurities—he knew he wasn’t good enough for her, that his career was lacking, his wealth was mediocre, that his past should be a glaring red flag.

But she still chose him despite it all.

Despite it all, she still loved only him.

His face had heated as it pinched in anger at the fucking audacity of this fucker trying to mess with his relationship, rage roiling in his belly that Stechner misused his authority with the CIA to get information on his future wife and invade her privacy.

“I don’t owe you any explanations,” he gritted out. “Leave me and her the fuck alone.”

“Oh, you didn’t know about the money.” The file closed in his hand. “Like how she didn’t know about all you did in Colombia? I could tell I caught her off guard when I brought it up.”

Panic erupted inside him, his eyes widening, papers scattering on the floor when he dropped the folders in his hand to take the strides and grab the other man by his dark green jacket lapels, slamming him into the wall. “What did you tell her?!” The words roared from his throat.

His mind was racing, thinking of all Stechner could’ve told her and knowing without a doubt he’d twist things to make Javier look like a heartless monster—he was so fucking scared he could cry.

It irritated him how calmly the other man spoke. “Well, I couldn’t believe she didn’t know why you weren’t there to catch Escobar with how ‘serious’ you two are and figured it must’ve slipped your mind, so I just told her the truth of how you got a lot of innocent civilians murdered by helping Los Pepes—men, women, children. I also brought a copy of Judy’s interview for her to read as proof.”

This was his worst nightmare.

That interview pinned all of the leaked intelligence to Los Pepes on him when they were also getting it from other high-ranking members of Search Bloc, the police force in Colombia dedicated to taking down drug lords. It made him look responsible for all of the carnage and innocent casualties, including the war that happened between Pablo Escobar and Los Pepes that had the former setting off a bomb at a busy shopping center a week before schools were starting, killing a bunch of kids.

“You’re looking awfully pale, Javier,” Stechner continued. “Do you need to sit down?”

He didn’t have a chance to explain the truth to her.

She was going to leave him over his past mistakes. There was no way she’d want to be with someone who fucked up so badly—he was going to lose her, and his heart felt like it was breaking into a million tiny pieces he’d never be able to put back together.

He was spiraling, his eyes burning with unshed tears as he let go of the man, turning around with his face in his hands, screaming into them FUCK!

Why was this happening to him? Why was Stechner trying to ruin the only good thing in his life? Was this payback for disobeying and taking down the Cali cartel? For revealing the corruption in Colombia? Or was this just for his own fucked up amusement?

His entire world was crumbling. He should’ve told her sooner. She should’ve heard all of this from him and gotten the truth.

She was everything to him, and without her, he was nothing.

He had nothing left to lose if he already lost her, and now he was just angry and fucking tired of people ruining his life. His blood was boiling, rage bubbling up inside him over this vindictive motherfucker who wouldn’t leave him the fuck alone.

His hands fell, and he turned on his heel to face the bastard.

“I should’ve done this a long time ago,” he said.

Stechner smiled. “What’s that?”

His right fist was tightly clenched, and then he swung, hearing and feeling the sickening crunch as it connected with the other man’s face, who yelped in pain.

Javier was numb, shaking out his hand as it flexed at his side while Stechner tried to staunch the bleeding coming from his nostrils, the file he had tucked under his arm.

Javier glared, his tone menacing as he raised a finger, “Leave me and her the fuck alone. If I see you around here again—” He jabbed the other man in the chest. “—I’m getting a fucking restraining order.”

“I could have you arrested for assaulting a government agent.” He sounded nasally.

“And how will the CIA feel about one of their agents using government means to harass a civilian? You get me arrested, you lose your fucking job for being a creep. Leave. Us. The. Fuck. Alone. You got what you wanted. She’s probably at the apartment packing my shit as we speak.” He snatched the folder from Stechner. “I’m taking this—now fuck off.”

With that, he turned around, his heart pounding, heading to where he dropped his files.

Sheriff Arturo’s assistant, Joy, came out of the conference room, holding her notepad to her chest with wired-rimmed glasses on her freckled face. He’d forgotten she’d been taking notes for her boss at the meeting.

“Go to the hospital and talk to her,” she said. “I’ll clean up the mess here and make sure he—” She glared at Stechner. “—is escorted out of the building.” Her eyes came back to him, the fresh college graduate looking worried, when she continued, “Whatever is going on sounds bad, and you need to go right now and fix it, Javi. Go to her! Hurry!”

She was right.

“Thank you,” he replied and started jogging down the maze of hallways to get out of the building.

By the time he made it to his truck, sweat was coating his forehead, and he didn’t bother putting on his sunglasses, tossing the file Stechner had on the passenger seat, the tires screeching as he turned onto the roadway. His hand tightly squeezed the steering wheel while the other dug his phone out of his pocket, holding it up to his ear as he speed-dialed Cielito.

Ring.

“Your call has been forwarded to an automated voice messaging system—”

“Fuck,” he hissed, redialing.

Ring.

“Your call—” He hit the end call button, glancing at the clock on his dashboard.

She should be on lunch right now and have her phone.

She should be answering.

She always answered.

He dialed again.

Ring.

Dread filled him once more.

“Your call—” He clicked the end button.

Was she screening his calls? Was she letting him go to voicemail?

Was she done with him? Was this all over? Was she even going to be at the hospital when he got there? Or did she leave work early to go home and pack his things?

He didn’t want to call her work, but he needed to know if he was heading to the right place, scrolling through his cellphone’s phone book until he found the number he was looking for and pushed call.

Ring.

“Doctor’s Hospital of Laredo, how may I direct your call?”

“Post-op nurse’s station.”

“One moment.”

Ring.

“Post-op. Robyn speakin’,” her cheery voice answered.

He let out a relieved breath.

Robyn would know where she was at.

“Robyn, it’s Javi—“

“She can’t talk right now,” she interrupted in a serious tone, her change in demeanor jolting him and making his stomach drop.

“Just…” His throat felt tight, swallowing hard while his eyes watered. “Just tell me if she’s there, please,” he all but begged.

“Of course she’s here.”

“Okay… Thank you…” he numbly replied, ending the call and setting the phone on the bench seat beside him.

A tear rolled down his cheek.

“Fuck!” he shouted, hitting the steering wheel.

How was it that hours ago, his life had been perfect?

Everything had finally fallen into place—he’d found the perfect woman who loved him and who he loved; he’d gotten his mother’s ring from his dad the day before and was going to take it to the jewelry store Monday to have it sized and altered, actively planning how he was going to propose so it’d be perfect.

She deserved perfection.

He’d been living the fucking dream, and now he wasn’t even sure if he still had a girlfriend.

She wasn’t answering his calls, and she’d roped in her friend to keep him from talking to her.

She promised him she’d still love him after finding out about his past, and he believed it, but he also knew Stechner was a sadistic prick, and Javier didn’t know what she’d been told—what lies, and exaggerations were said to make him look as horrible as possible.

It must’ve been jarring for her, and she wanted space—what she needed was to hear the truth, the whole truth of everything he went through down there, that he should’ve fucking told her months ago. He felt like a real piece of shit that he put her in this position. Javier knew her better than anyone else, and had she known about Los Pepes, and all the other shit he’d been keeping from her, he knew for a fact she would’ve sniffed Stechner out right away and ripped him to fucking pieces for trying to sabotage their relationship. But she didn’t know, and that rat bastard got what he wanted.

The traffic light turned green, and he laid on the horn when the car in front of him didn’t immediately go, passing them when he could as he sped over the speed limit.

All he could think about was how he had to get to her and straighten this all out—hell, if he needed to, Steve could corroborate everything he was going to tell her.

He would fix this. He had to fix this.

There was no other option.

He couldn’t go back to how he was living before her, which wasn’t living at all; it was just existing with no purpose. There was a purpose now; there was more than a purpose, expanding to hopes and dreams for their future together.

She was his sun, shining brightly, giving him life, warmth, and helping him grow. He was her moon, faithfully following her anywhere she’d go, reflecting her radiant love, loving her day and night in her best and worst moments.

He loved her more than anything, and he would do whatever it took to make this right.

His eyes were burning.

“Tengo miedo, amá (I’m scared, mom),” he whispered under his breath. “Me duele el corazón (My heart is hurting). No puedo perderla, amá (I can’t lose her, mom). La amo más que a nada en el mundo y no puedo vivir sin a ella (I love her more than anything in the world and I can’t live without my her).” Tears fell down his cheeks. “¿Puedes hablar con alguien en el cielo o dondequiera que estés (Can you talk to someone in heaven or wherever you are)? ¿Por favor, amá (Please, mom)?” He wiped at his face, sniffling. “¿Por favor (Please)? La amo y haré cualquier cosa para recuperarla de vuelta (I love her and I will do anything to get her back).”

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