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strangersteddierthings · 5 months

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In the 19 years Steve's lived in this house, never once has he slammed his front door like that. Too scared of his parents' wrath should it have caused any damage.

It feels good.

He almost turns around to do it again, a fuck you to his parents and every decision they ever forced on him, but then he remembers. They're all in there. Nancy, Jonathan, Argyle, Eddie, Robin. In his living room, making declarations and decisions about Steve's life for him. Or, well, one of them is.

Like his parents do. Did?

He didn't grab his keys, wallet, or even his coat, but he's not going back for them. It's cold, sure, but Steve's sure his anger will keep him warm until he reaches a destination. Any destination.

He just doesn't understand why- Why they keep doing this to him.

Why he keeps letting them.

No. No, that's a lie. He keeps letting them because he knows, deep down, he's not a fighter. Not for himself.

He'll put himself between the ones he loves and danger in a heartbeat; he's done that since the first time he watched a petal-faced monster peel its way out of the Byers' wall in '83.

But his parents trained the fight right out of him when it came to himself. It was easier to not argue, to just do what they wanted. They'd smile at him when he was good. They'd take him with on shorter business trips when he behaved. His mom would even allow a quick hug if he impressed a shareholder with how well-mannered and quiet he was.

He won their affections with obedience.

He's never- Nancy and he love each other now, but in the same way they all love each other after having survived the horrors the Upside Down. But Nancy never loved him the way he'd once loved her. That was bullshit.

Even Robin and Dustin. He knows they love him now. Will love him forever, going forward, but both had admitted to having a predetermined idea of who Steve was and what he was like and they weren't wrong but they also weren't right because Steve's never been Steve a goddamn day in his life.

Steve hadn't even known Steve until monsters came into his life.

The way everyone used to refer to him as the Steve Harrington was a judgement all its own. A thing that he was, and had no say to be otherwise.

Even Eddie, in the Upside Down, and now, in his own house.

Steve finally feels like he might be becoming who he really is and he's surrounded by friends and it just made him stupid. He'd thought it was confidence, when he pulled Eddie aside to talk, to confess, but then-

Eddie telling him he's confused. Like Steve is a child learning new concepts and not an adult who has been questioning how he feels about men since he first noticed other boys in middle school.

Eddie telling him, 'you don't want this, man. Not really.'

It's not fair.

Robin came out to him, and he'd just wanted to make her laugh so she would quit looking so scared. Eddie came out to him, and Steve had thanked him for trusting him. Jonathan, Nancy, and Argyle confess to all dating each other and Steve congratulated them. But Steve comes out and gets told he's confused?

And Steve didn't even refute it. Just got so hurt he couldn't be there anymore. Left his own house because he'd told Eddie he had a crush on him, and asked if he'd like to go on a date sometime and Eddie said no and told him he was confused.

Eddie doesn't get to decide that for Steve! No one but himself can decide if he like guys or not. No one gets to tell him he's confused about what he's feeling.

It's- that's bullshit, is what it is!

Steve turns on his heel and marches back to his house. His hurt has fully morphed to anger now.

Steve hasn't run away from a fight since '83, and he's not going to start now.

He rips his front door open and is greeted to everyone just inside the door, in various states of putting their winter clothes back on. All the faces look concerned, but he scans for Eddie's.

Eddie who looks relieved for all of two seconds, when it seems to dawn on him that Steve is angry, and it's directed at him.

"The appropriate response," Steve growls as he steps through his door and punctuates those words by slamming it shut again. (It's not as satisfying this time, because he sees how it makes his friends jump.) He barrels on with his words, eyes never leaving Eddie, "when someone comes out to you, is to say 'thanks for telling me' or perhaps even 'thanks for trusting me' or, if one is so inclined, to just say 'cool, dude' but you don't get- you don't get to tell me I'm confused!"

Eddie takes a step back, knocking directly in Argyle, who steadies him, but he doesn't say anything.

Maybe Steve should be more calm about this, given the audience, but he's not able to stop the words now that they've started. "I'm not confused, and I know exactly what I'd be getting into. You don't get to- to try and make your rejection my fault. If you don't wanna date me, just say so. But you don't get to try and tell me how I feel about you!"

From the corner of his eye, he can see Nancy trying to subtly shift herself and Jonathan away from the door, probably to get out of what really should be a private conversation, but Jonathan's a bit preoccupied by catching Robin around the waist as she lunges towards Eddie.

"What the fuck did you say, Munson!" Robin growls, arms swinging out like she's going to claw Eddie to death.

Argyle has inched back a bit, putting distance between him and Eddie in case Robin breaks free. "You dudes should probably talk this out in private."

"Byers, if you don't let me go right now-"

"Robbie, I got this," Steve says, because Robin shouldn't be turning on Jonathan when he's done nothing wrong. Robin continues to glare at Eddie for a few seconds before she makes eyes contact with Steve. He raises his brows slight -I got this- and she furrows hers -are you sure?-, so he tilts his head -yes, really- and she deflates in Jonathan's arms and allows him to drag her away.

"We'll just be in the rec room," Nancy says, looping her arm through Argyles and following after Jonathan.

Eddie doesn't bolt, which is a bit more than Steve expected. They both just stare at each other until they hear the click of the rec room door.

"Steve-"

"That was fucked up, Eddie," Steve interrupts.

"Yeah. It was," Eddie says, but doesn't offer up more, even though Steve is waiting for an apology.

"That kind of reaction is exactly why I didn't come out sooner. What would be the fucking point if no one even believed me? Or worse, if you'd given me that kind of reaction like, six months ago, I probably never admit to liking guys out loud ever again. You can't just- you can't decide this kind of shit for other people!"

"I know! I- I freaked out, and panicked, and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry Steve," Eddie says, and he sounds sincere and looks almost fragile while saying it that Steve loses a bit of his steam. He doesn't want to just keep yelling at Eddie.

"Yeah. Well. Thanks for apologizing," Steve mutters, crossing his arms with a huff.

Eddie worries his bottom lip before he seems to gather all his courage and says, "have I fucked everything up between us?"

"No. Not- I'm going to, like, need some time to get over my crush, but no. It's- it'll just be take time-"

"No! I mean, I can't- if you don't, uh, like me like that anymore I get it, but I- what I meant was. Well. No, I guess that answered my question."

Steve is confused, now. For real, and not about his sexuality. "What?"

"What?"

"You did it again. Deciding for me if I liked you or not."

"Shit. Fuck! Sorry," Eddie drops his head into his hands and groans. "I'm fucking this up so bad."

"Than use, like, real, whole sentences and speak to me!"

"I like you!" Eddie blurts. "I have a crush on you, too, but I- I fucked it up!"

"Yeah. Kinda."

Eddie makes a really pathetic noise at that.

"Not so much we can't, like, figure it out, though," Steve offers. "Not, like, right now, because I'm hurt and angry, but like, I'm not going to stop liking you because of one fight. Not. Uh, not now that I know you like me, too."

"Oh," Eddie whispers, then frowns. "For real?"

Steve rolls his eyes. "I said it, didn't I?"

"Sorry, it's just, just good things don't happen to me. It's- I'm processing, okay."

Steve lets out a long-suffering sigh and heads towards the rec room. "If you want to leave to 'process' alone, I get it, but you're welcome to stay. We can get this party re-started and hang out."

Eddie's silent a moment, and Steve thinks he's going to ask if Steve's sure, but instead he gets a quiet, "yeah. I'd like to stay." and the sound of Eddie's footsteps following him to the rec room.

@i-less-than-three-you @nburkhardt @afewproblems @skepsiss

#steddie #pre-steddie more accurately #my fic #we have a lot of fic where it feels like the miscommunication is just one character deciding how the other feels #and i LOVE that trope. The angst of it all it just *chefs kiss*#but I dont think steve would let people get away with telling him how he feels #i think hed get hurt and then angry #so i wrote it #thats a lie. this STARTED as that trope (i even warned the discord babes) but while I wanted steve to stay sad instead he got mad \:#so its not actually the story i wanted to tell but it's the one i got

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lokischocolatefountain · 1 year

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Separation

Series Masterlist

Fandom: Narcos

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader

Rating: 18+ (*slaps the roof of this fic* This bad boy can fit so much smut, angst and fluff in it)

Word count: 8.4k words wtf

Summary: The last time Javier Peña saw his wife was almost three weeks ago in Steve Murphy’s apartment. He’d finally done it. He’d fucked up the only good thing in his life, driven her away with his neglect.

A/N: Why is it that whenever I write Javi, there’s angst? What is it about this beautiful pathetic man with big brown eyes (and big strong arms) that makes me want to hurt and comfort him? Also, if any of you want to be tagged the next time I post Javi (or just husband Javi) lmk and I’ll make a tag list.

The last time Javier Peña saw his wife was in Steve Murphy’s apartment, holding a sleeping baby Olivia Murphy on her lap as she consoled an anxious Connie Murphy. That night, he’d finally brought his partner home to his wife and child. Relieved, he went home only to find a note from his wife by his bedside informing him that she would be staying with a friend for a while. No explanations, no phone calls. Just a note.

That was almost three weeks ago.

Her side of the bed stayed untouched. Her bedside table was unusually empty without her novel of the week on it. When he reached out for her in his sleep, his heart craving the familiar comfort of her touch, he found it cold and empty. He’d wake up with a start, unaccustomed to an empty bed even though he’d spent all his bachelor life before her sleeping by himself. It was as though married life had been a cruel fantasy he was awoken from to be forced back into the reality of his lonely existence.

No matter how many times he longed to call her friend’s landline, he couldn’t bring himself to dial the number. She’d been by his side ever since he asked her to move in with him. Undying loyalty, a shoulder to lean on, a body to hold when he awoke from nightmares. She deserved a break from him.

The refrigerator sometimes had boxes of meals for him, his whiskey glass was chilled, her laundry done and dried for him to fold up. Dishes left in the sink for him to wash. He had a wife and she did come by the apartment but never when he was there too. She’d been like a ghost, slipping in and out and probably through walls without his notice.

Their anniversary came and went. Still no sign of her.

It wasn’t their wedding anniversary. It was the anniversary of their first date. That was not something they celebrated like they did their wedding anniversary but her absence made him remember and it fucking stung.

He’d finally done it. He’d fucked up the only good thing in his life, driven her away with his neglect. She gave him everything and asked for nothing. Not even the bare minimum. Her parents had begged her for a proper wedding and he couldn’t even give her that. She married him at the embassy and went home alone in the short white dress she bought herself from a regular store as he went off on some fucking raid that ended up failing anyway. She watched as her friends had weddings and baby showers and children while he kept her stuck in the same place in life.

And she was finally gone. After putting up with everything, she’d slowly disappeared from his life without him even noticing it.

Javi found himself outside her classroom. He’d walked into the English Literature department, opened her drawer and checked her schedule, ignoring the questioning staff with the same practiced authority he had as DEA agent.

For the first time, he took in the force that was Professor Peña in action. He knew she was a fucking genius. But to see her command the classroom’s attention was something else.

On one of their first nights together, he’d put his head on her lap and closed his eyes as she played with her hair and asked her unashamedly to read her book out loud to him. He had a reputation of being an asshole, of sleeping around a lot. There was an image of him being a callus man who hopped from one bed to the next. It couldn’t be further from the truth. He gave bits and pieces of his heart to every woman he slept with, he asked personal questions, kissed foreheads and comforted them over their troubles. He lied on the lap of the woman he would one day marry and asked her to read him a bedtime story of how Anna Karenina fell out of love with Alexei and in love with Vronsky. Javier may have been an asshole in others’ eyes, but on her lap, he was the man who kept his parents’ easy intimacy in the back of his head as he looked up at her and wondered if he could have something like that with her.

As she engaged the classroom in a discussion about Frankenstein’s creation, he witnessed everyone around him fall for her just as he did. He watched as she pulled them into discussions and got them involved in passionate debates amongst themselves about the nature of the creature. She was the perfect leader, knowing just how to steer the large group, get the stubborn young people to question their world views and lead them to answers to questions they didn’t even know they had.

She was a wonder.

If this was all he could have of her, he would take it. If she wouldn’t come home to him anymore, he would show up to her classes and sit in the back seat just to hear her voice and see her eyes twinkle with passion.

She didn’t notice him, her attention reserved for the students who asked questions and argued their points passionately. He had to wait until they’d all submitted their papers to her and had a little conversation to continue their discussions. He’d never seen students so reluctant to leave a classroom. He couldn’t blame them; he didn’t want to leave either. Only when most of her class had shuffled out did he have the courage to approach her desk.

He stood there, making no sounds, just fidgeting with his right hand as he tried to find the courage in him to speak to the professor who was counting the number of essays that had been submitted to her.

“Sorry, I have to get home now. Office hours are before class on Monday,” she said, not even looking up at him.

“Sure, if that’s the only way I’ll get to see you.”

She stilled mid-count, letting go of the papers as she looked up at him. She opened and closed her mouth, as though swallowing everything she thought to say.

“What are you doing here?” She asked, finally.

He shrugged and managed a half-smile. “Had to catch you somehow.”

When she said nothing, he continued, “Where do you go when you tell your students you’re going home? Because you don’t come to ours.”

He carried her papers, her handbag and her lunch bag to the jeep. As though he had to confiscate all her belongings to make sure she’d actually come home with him. As though he was afraid she’d slip through his fingers like the sicarios he chased.

Her hand didn’t cross the physical space between them. Her head rested against the glass of the window and her eyes were closed. She didn’t reach over to switch the radio on, didn’t ask him about his day, didn’t reach over to pinch his cheek or steal his aviators.

“Talk to me,” he said, his voice shaking as he realized he didn’t want to hear whatever it was she had to say. He wasn’t prepared for the harsh truths. All he wanted was to take her to bed and kiss her all over and hold her tight so that she would never leave. He wanted to cry like a little boy begging his dad to not leave for work because he would miss him too much during the day. He wanted to overwhelm her with his love, manipulate her mind into taking him back though he couldn’t admit to himself that at some point she apparently stopped wanting to keep him.

His hand was on her knee as he sat at her feet and looked up at her face expectantly for her to speak. It wouldn’t have taken him more than a second to get on his knees. He was no religious man. That stopped the day he buried his Ma. But he would get on his knees again and pray to her to stay, to be his benevolent goddess and forgive his sins for the nth time.

“I don’t know what I did, I really don’t,” his voice cracked as he confessed. “But it must’ve been something terrible for you to stop coming home.” It shamed him to discover that he had become the man he promised himself he would never be. One of those inattentive men who’d grown so comfortable in the kindnesses of their wife that they’re shocked when she decides she has had enough. Neglect killed love. And he had been neglecting her, leaving her alone most days and most nights as he traveled back and forth between Bogotá and Medellin.

She stared at him, her expressions indiscernible. She accepted his hands when he placed them on hers, the small action giving him hopes. “Whatever it is, I’ll fix it,” he begged, holding on tight. He needed her to believe him.

She shook her head and looked down at her lap. “It’s not— you didn’t do anything wrong.”

After relief came surprise. He hadn’t done something wrong this time? The relief was quickly replaced by worry. If he was the cause of her running away from him, he could handle that. He could change himself, fix whatever within was wrong to make her come home again. But it was something else, someone else…

“What is it, then?” He asked, cupping her cheek and gently directing her to look at him instead of her lap or the walls. “Is it work? Are your parents doing well back home?”

“Nothing, it’s nothing.”

He inhaled and rubbed his eyes. “It can’t be nothing. You left me. You packed up your bags and left. I think I deserve an explanation.”

She let out a sigh. “I’ll come back then.”

His hand curled into a fist and his jaw clenched. So that was it? All he had to do was ask? Her easy compliance made him want to throw something at the wall.

He got off the ground where he was knelt at her feet and began pacing across the room.

He expected some resistance when he barged into her workplace uninvited and demanded that she come with him. He expected— no, hoped for a fight for it would give him answers for her sudden disappearance. But she just walked with him to the parking lot, no questions asked. And now she just agreed to move back in. All because he demanded answers.

“Fucking tell me!” He yelled, his hand fidgeting at his side.

“I don’t want to fight,” she said, her voice too calm for the gravity of the situation. Like this didn’t fucking matter.

Oh, you don’t wanna fight? You don’t wanna fucking fight? You fucking ran off and you don’t want to—

“I don’t either, but you’re making it very hard to not do that.”

He heard her take in a deep breath before he heard the unmistakable whispers of sniffling. Great. Fucking amazing. Now, he’d gone and made her cry.

Her sounds of despair were enough for his rage to evaporate off him. He rushed back to her side and pulled her to his chest, forcing comfort upon her in the hope that it would serve as a salve to whatever wounds he’d ripped open. To his relief, she didn’t push him away. But she didn’t pull him close like she always did when he embraced her. Things had changed and he hadn’t even noticed it happening. All he could do now was hope that whatever this rift was between them, he could patch it back together.

—————————

Even in the blistering heat of Bogotá, Javier chose to keep his wife pressed to his chest when he slept. She was disgusted by their sweat combining and their clothes sticking to their bodies, but she indulged his need for closeness. She knew he loved with his body and she accepted his love, in all its sweaty sticky mess.

So he had no choice but to interpret the chasm between them on their marital bed as her rejection of his love.

As soon as he brought her back home, he had to leave for Medellin. Any hopes for setting things right had been crushed when he had to leave from work straight to the other city. He’d called home before he left, informing he would be gone for a long time once again. She didn’t say much, just hemmed and hawed before asking him to be safe out there. No exaggerated smooching sounds to make him laugh, no promises of what would be awaiting him when he came back home to her, no I love you before she said goodbye.

Over ten days after the call, he was back but without any of the feelings of satisfaction he usually had when coming home to her. Instead, there was just dread. She met him at the door as usual and wrapped her arms around him, but she separated without a kiss. The cracks in the foundations of their marriage ran deeper than he’d feared.

“Hey,” he whispered awkwardly when she finally opened her eyes. She stilled, her head jerking up as though surprised he was there.

“Hey,” she replied, her voice groggy from sleep as she shuffled under her blanket.

“I missed you so much, mi amor…” he said carefully, afraid that anything he might say would snap the last thread that held them together. His hand slowly crept into the space between them, an offering to share the littlest bit of marital comforts.

“Missed you too, Javi,” she conceded, not taking his hand but settling for playing with his fingers. He allowed her to lead, giving what little contact she took from him and taking back only as much, afraid to cross any lines.

Her nails were uncharacteristically unkempt. The woman he knew did not tolerate chipped nail polish, wiping all her nails with acetone when the paint began chipping off. Almost all her nails except her pinky had chipped paint now. Her thumbnail was bare.

“May I paint your nails?” He asked, hopeful. She nodded and he left their bed in search of the box in which she kept all her manicure tools and paints.

When they sat together on bed as he took the pink off her nails, they were closer. He handled her hands with care, refusing to scrub too harshly even when the pieces of glitter clung to her as stubbornly as he did. Manicures were something she got done from salons, but she painted her own nails just as often. She said it calmed her.

He then brought the glass file to her nails, reducing them to a shorter oval shape the way she liked them. Any longer and she found it hard to use her typewriter. He made sure to file the edges in the same direction, recalling that she’d told him filing in opposite directions was not good for nail health. He repositioned her hand in his, turning it left and right as he evaluated his work. Satisfied with the shape, he brought his lips to the finger, his eyes remaining on hers the entire time to check for any signs of rejection. He pressed little kisses from her fingertip to her wrist, relishing in the shy smiles she rewarded him with.

He repeated his work with the other nails and then used the little wooden stick she had to push her cuticles back in preparation for the paint. The shower would wash it off soon, but he still slathered some moisturizer on her hands, using it as an excuse to massage her hands. He pushed the excess cream beyond her wrists and up her arms.

He kissed the back of her hand and looked up at her, her eyes clouded with sleep and something else, her plush lips parting as his own traveled up her arm. “You feel so good, baby, so soft,” he praised, making her shudder. When he reached the sleeve of his t-shirt that she liked wearing to bed, he pulled it down, exposing her shoulder. As he neared her neck, she cradled his head in her hand, guiding him by his hair to place kisses where she wanted them. His lips went willingly, loving her up in every spot she took him to. She was all sweat, citrus shampoo and the jasmine of the lotion he’d rubbed on her. He breathed her in, her scent being his choice of drug.

She pulled him back from her neck, gazing at his lips before closing her eyes and leaning forward. He brushed the tip of his nose against hers, making her giggle. He smiled before leaning in again but kissing her chin.

“Javi,” she whined as he kissed along her jaw and the corners of her lips and even her nose, refusing to press his lips to hers.

“Yeah, baby?” He asked, feigning innocence. But she knew him too well to believe the act.

“Jodón.”

“Tell me what you want.” He demanded, craving the feeling of being wanted. He needed to know that she needed him just like he needed her, that she wasn’t just capitulating to his desires, that she desired him.

“Kiss me.”

He found himself grinning as he took her face in his hands and tilted his head, unhurried in how he grazed her lips with his. She took initiative, pressing her lips to his. She consumed him, not like a starving woman but like one ready to savor each second of her meal. He let one hand wander down her back, caressing her through the thin fabric but not daring to slip it under her t-shirt. He needed her to take this at her pace, unaffected by his greed and desperation to have all of her. It was fantastic how just a kiss from her could make him feel his heart beating for her.

He’d kissed other women before her and he enjoyed all those times. But with her, it was different. It wasn’t the first step in fucking, wasn’t a means to an end. When he kissed her, he wasn’t a lonely man trying to imitate a deeper intimacy he’d never had merely to quell his yearning for connection. In her lips, he found not just the thrill of desire, but the safety of home.

The first time he kissed her, every other kiss ceased to exist and she’d become the only one. Everyone he kissed after that first kiss left him unsatisfied. None of them tasted like her, didn’t send jolts of electricity through him, didn’t make his heart leap out of his chest.

She mewled into the kiss as his tongue danced with hers, giving in to her exploration of his mouth as she pulled him closer to herself. Taking her sounds as encouragement, he tangled his hands into her hair. He poured a month’s worth of longing into the kiss, asking with each sigh and moan ‘Can you feel how I yearn for you? Can you not feel how you broke me when you left and put me back together with just this kiss?’

She pulled back first and he found himself panting, taking in the air he didn’t know he was depriving himself of. He pounced back, needing her more than he needed oxygen. He took her lips between his, pushing her head into the headboard as he pulled her into a heated kiss. One hand roamed his shoulder and then his arms, up and down and driving him mad as the other rested over his heart. He brought a hand to hers, trapping hers over his heart. He felt lightheaded as she staved him of air, but he happily drowned in her. He needed her to feel him, feel how his heart beat to her tune, how it missed having her head rest on it as they slept in each other’s arms.

“Please, Javi. Need you…” she broke off to whisper. He placed one last kiss to her lips before he slid down the bed, pulling her to the edge before pulling her shorts off her. He dove in and licked her through her panties, savoring the taste of her wetness on the cotton. Her hand found his hair and tugged gently.

“You have no fucking idea how much I’ve missed having you, querida…” he said, placing a kiss between her legs.

“I miss you so much, Javi…”

“No, you don’t know,” he insisted, angered that she would claim to have missed him after she left him. If you missed me so much, why didn’t you come back? He pressed his thumb on her clit, pressed a bit harder than she liked and she whined.

“I’m sorry!”

“You left. You walked out on me, didn’t tell me shit and I was fucking miserable,” he confessed, passing on the hurt right back to her. She mumbled a few more apologies, but nothing would be enough until he got to take her again.

“Gonna let me show you how much I missed you, baby?” He asked, placing kisses on her belly. “Gonna let me make love to you?”

“Yes, yes, please. Need youuu—” she cried as he pushed the cotton of her panty aside to lick her.

“You need me?” He asked, licking her again. God, how he missed his favorite taste. “Did you miss my cock like I missed this pussy, baby?”

She nodded, but that wasn’t enough for him. He needed to know from her lips, needed her to scream for the entire city to know how she missed his touch. He pushed her legs back together and pulled her panties off before setting it aside. He wrapped his lips around her and sucked on her clit, exacting the sweetest little sounds from her.

“I need to hear you.”

“Missed you, Javi. Missed your cock,” she confessed, tightening around his finger as she did. He wished he had his cock inside her as he made her tell him how much she missed it. He would pull more confessions out of her with a promise of an orgasm and he knew she would say anything he wanted.

“You have ruined me, mi amor. Can’t make myself cum just as good anymore without this pussy. Hate my own fucking hand.” He praised before he lapped and laved at her core, licking her up as he made her wetter and wetter for him.

“I sneaked your panties out of the laundry hamper, took it with me to Medellin like a fucking creep,” he confessed, unsure if her cry of his name was the work of his fingers or the confession of his depravity. “The pink one with the stripes, covered in you from when you touched yourself, when you kept this cunt to yourself and kept me away. I needed to smell it when I wrapped my fist around my cock and imagined I was fucking you.”

She clenched around his finger and that sent a rush through him. “That make you feel good, Cariño? Knowing you’ve turned me into a fucking pervert?”

“Javi, baby please…” she cried as he busied his lips once again with her cunt. He would’ve left her pussy lips for the lips that cried his name so prettily but she kept him down with her hand on his hair. She fucked herself on his fingers, gasping when he added a third one to stretch her out further.

His idle hand traveled up her body, its every nerve ending enjoying having her tremble beneath him once again. He took his time, roaming everywhere, feeling every inch of skin that he would soon trap under him as he fucked her for the first in a long time. This was the longest they’d gone without each other ever since they decided to pursue what they had for real. Even with his job being the way it was, he managed to come to Bogota every now and then to have her.

She wrapped her legs around him, trapping his head with her thighs as she dug the heel of her foot into his back. He growled into her cunt as she thrust up into him, fucking his mouth and his fingers at the same time. She still wanted him in between her legs if nowhere else and if he had to, he would fuck her into staying with him forever.

A few more minutes of licking and sucking and she was pulsating around his fingers, her thighs setting enough pressure on him to make him fear that she might crush him. With a cry of his name, she came for him, coating him in her juices. He drank up all of her, not showing any restraint.

She pulled him up by his hair and he obeyed, kissing her lips to bless her with her deliciousness. He dipped his tongue into her mouth, meeting her tongue as she moaned with her own taste. He placed his hand over her collarbones, smearing her all over the place before he crept up and held her neck as he relished in the vibrations of her moans.

He gasped into the kiss as she wrapped her hand around him through his boxers. He grabbed her wrist and held her in place, keeping her from stroking his cock. It’d been too long since he had her and he wasn’t going to waste this morning by coming in his fucking underwear.

“Let me have you, baby,” he begged, dipping down to her neck to lick up her cum that he had smeared over her. He wasn’t going to let any of her go to waste.

“Yes, fuck!” She reached into his boxers and took him out, painfully hard and already leaking precum. He licked and sucked the skin until it was marred from his attention.

“Wanna be on top, please,” she begged and he rolled them around, acquiescing to her. She sat up on him, her knees planted on either side of him before taking her t-shirt off to reveal her pretty tits. Before he could reach up for her himself, she took command in taking his hand and placing it on her breast.

“Missed this so much, Javi,” she said as she stroked his cock. He kneaded her breast in his hand, enjoying having the ample flesh in his hands.

“Need to be inside you, please,” he breathed, trying as much as he could to clear his thoughts for if he focused on her hand around his cock and how gorgeous she looked on him, he would burst in an instant.

She obliged, adjusting herself over him before living him up with herself. She let him inside her wet heat, just the tip, before pulling back up. He groaned at the loss of contact, biting down on his lip as she repeated the motion, giving him just a bit of her pussy before pulling away once again.

He grabbed her hand and squeezed. “Don’t fucking tease. I haven’t had you in the longest time, darling. I need—ssss” he hissed as she took him in once more.

“I’m not teasing,” she gasped silently as she allowed a little more of him inside her. “So big, Javi. Haven’t stretched me out like this in s-so long,” she praised as she swallowed him bit by bit. “So fucking thick, gonna ruin me.”

“That’s right, baby… You love this cock, don’t you? Can’t go for anyone else ever again. I’ve made you mine,” he said, moving his other hand to her clit, moaning when she rewarded his touch by gripping him tighter.

“Mmmm love your cock,” she moaned as she struggled to take more of him even though he’d gotten her nice and wet with his fingers and mouth. Poor thing needed time to get used to his girth again after having gone such a long time without him.

“You are so beautiful like this… Look so fucking sinful trying so hard to take all of me, sitting on top of me like that and letting me touch your tits,” he praised as he played with her nipples, pinching and tugging and rolling between his fingers to make her tighten around him. She might have been on top, taking the reins, but he still had control. He knew her body like he knew the communas where he chased men, knew every shortcut, memorized every path, knew where to go to corner and capture them. He could elicit every desired response from her by touching her in the right places and saying the right words. She belonged to him, body and soul, and he enjoyed using every inch of her body to remind her to whom she belonged.

He let her set a slow torturous pace as she adjusted to him, groaning as she finally swallowed him to the hilt. It was pure bliss to be surrounded whole by her, to feel all of her wet, velvety heat. He felt her all over, from the tips of his toes to the top of his head and it was everything. She was everything.

It was sweet torment to be exposed to the cold air of the fan only to be swallowed back up by her hot cunt. He needed her so fucking bad, needed her not just for the carnal pleasures that sex brought but the feeling of home when he found himself buried in her— he needed her to devour him whole and keep him right there, inside her, all hers and nothing else. Only the Javier that belonged to her was worth existing. Everything else he’d become in over three decades of life was insignificant.

Inside the walls of their home, on their marital bed, there was no world outside. She brought him the delusions of safety and he luxuriated in it, allowing himself to forget everything that wasn’t her. The world was just her tight cunt, her tits under his hands and the filthy sounds from her lips as she slowly went from a woman in control to a writhing, moaning mess. He met her halfway with his thrusts when she struggled to keep up on top of him. He sat himself up and pulled her to his chest, giving in as she stole his lips. It was hurried and sloppy as they explored familiar territory, still as excited as the first time they kissed each other. Practiced lovers, savoring the familiar comfort of each other’s lips yet excited to find something new each time.

“Don’t ever leave me,” he begged, holding her face in his hand and making her look at him in the hopes that she would see just how much he meant it. “I can’t, without you… I— I c-can’t, mi amor— Please…”

“I w-won’t,” she managed to stutter out as she grew breathless.

“Promise me,” he demanded even though what he wanted to do was beg.

She opened and closed her mouth, unable to form words as he set a relentless pace, taking over as he thrust into her and thumbed her clit.

“Fucking promise me!” He growled, forcing himself into her in hard, merciless thrusts.

“Aaaah! Ja—”

“You’re mine. You’re fucking mine, get it? This isn’t— We aren’t just da-dating. I’m your husband. You can’t just leave like that.” He forced himself deep and inadvertently hit her cervix. She jolted in his arms and let out a pained cry, letting him know his mistake and he pressed a kiss to her cheek in a silent apology.

“Sorr— hnnng! ‘m sorry Jav—”

A tear slipped down her cheek and he kissed it, tasting her. He breathed her name the way a dying man would call for his god in desperation. He prayed her name, each syllable a request of Save me, never leave me, breathe life into this wretched man.

She pulsated around him, collapsing on his chest and relying on him to hold her up as she reached her peak. She was deadweight in his arms and he held her tight as he reamed into her, her back arching and her hair cascading down her back, shaking from his hard thrusts. She took him along with her, erasing his world and making herself his everything. She had dragged him to the peak of the world and now she was pulling him down and he went with her willingly, taking everything she gave him, getting lost in her body. She was like a breath of air after drowning for eternity, she gave him life, gave him meaning even though she’d been the one to rob him of it.

He wiped her tears and kissed her all over, showering her with all the love he had for her. But it wasn’t enough. No matter how much he poured out, he couldn’t show her the depth of his feelings for her. No words compared, no kisses came close to the place she had in his life. No matter how many times he told her he loved her, she would never know just how much.

“Te amo, Javi,” she broke off from their kiss to whisper. He collapsed on the bed and brought her down with him. He pecked her lips once and then twice before setting his gaze on her eyes.

“Si me amas…” he paused to take a breath. “¿por qué me dejaste? ¿Por qué?”

She looked down at her lap and fidgeted with her rings as she spoke, “Y-yo no quiero perderte.”

He shook his head as he said, “No me perderás. Yo soy tuyo.” He took her hand and placed it on his chest over his heart. “Tuyo.”

She scoffed, her hand curling over his chest. “More Escobar’s than mine at this point.”

“What?”

She shook her head and looked away, avoiding his eyes. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to— I shouldn’t complain.”

“No. No, you talk to me. What is this about?”

“We’ll fight if we talk about it. Like Steve and Connie.”

“Do you…? Do you want to leave…? Like Connie did?” He asked, unable to steady his shaking voice. Three weeks with her gone was hell enough. If she wanted to take off permanently, he didn’t know what he would do with himself. Hunting the hijo de puta had become his purpose in life over the past few years. But he now had another important purpose, a woman he’d made promises to. Promises he was insistent on keeping.

She shook her head.

He sighed as he tucked her hair behind her ear, needing to see her without anything in the way. It was fucking frustrating, not knowing what worried her so much that she couldn’t even talk to him about it, that she chose instead to run away from him. But he had to be kind if he wanted her to open up.

He began by caressing her cheek with the back of his hand. Gently, like soothing a wounded child. “Baby… If you don’t tell me what this is about, how am I going to fix it? Hmm?”

“It can’t be fixed,” she said, same as that day.

It took him a moment to know how to answer her.

“When I asked you to marry me, you asked that I give you all of me. Have I not kept that promise?” He asked, knowing that he had so far. No matter how ugly, no matter how broken, he brought home all of himself. To her credit, she accepted him just as he was.

She nodded and said, “you have.”

“Now I’m asking. I want everything, too. Whatever you’re hiding from me that has you worried will make us fight. Is it about my job?”

“I’m sorry,” she said as she nodded, head hung low as tears spilled out.

“No, no, nothing to be sorry about. Just talk to me. What about my job?”

“S-scared.” His chest tightened at the trembling of her voice. Relationships were not something he was comfortable with after he left Lorraine and it was alright for his dangerous new lifestyle as an agent in Colombia. There was no one else he was putting in danger because of his line of work. But then he had to go and fall in love.

It was one of the reasons he proposed to her as soon as he could. Being his wife offered her more legal protection than did being his girlfriend. And knowing that she was it for him, he saw no point in waiting. But she was still afraid for her safety.

He reached out quickly to reassure her.

“I’m here, okay? Our home is safe. Those bastards won’t dare touch you here, won’t dare touch a US federal agent’s wife. I got you,” he whispered into her ear and rubbed her back, hoping to help her relax in his arms. She didn’t. She just tensed.

“‘m not worried about m-myself,” she said softly. “Ever since Steve got kidnapped, I—”

He took in a deep breath and pulled her in closer even though there was no gap between them. What was he supposed to do? Tell her he was safe? Lying wasn’t something he was ready to do in their marriage. Even if he did, she wouldn’t believe him after she had to comfort a panicking Connie. He had the same job as Steve, faced the same dangers. It could be him next. And he might not be lucky enough to come home.

The CNP guys were in much greater danger than he was as an American. Call it gringo privilege. But he couldn’t make promises. He couldn’t promise that a jump from the roof wouldn’t end up terribly. He couldn’t promise that he would never catch a stray bullet. He couldn’t promise that a crazy motherfucker wouldn’t target him for the bragging rights over nabbing a US agent.

Small town sheriff Javier Peña hadn’t thought of all this when he signed up for this job in his mid twenties. There was just an opportunity to run away from a town that hated him— a town he hated more for how it smothered him from all sides as he grew and grew yet it remained small, insignificant. It was his chance to do something great, to be the good guy fighting big bag guys and he took it. He hadn’t been warned that he’d one day be sat holding his sobbing wife, speechless because he couldn’t make the most basic promise— to fucking stay alive.

“I’m sorry,” she whimpered, the tremble in her voice tugging at his heartstrings.

“No, no. I’m sorry.” Sorry I can’t give you more. Sorry I made you cry. He pulled her into his arms and sat on the couch, cradling her in his lap more for his comfort than hers.

“I shouldn’t complain. I know I married a man with a dangerous job. I signed up for all this, but… ‘m so scared, Javi. I can’t sleep at night. I wake up from nightmares and I lose you every single time. I get scared when I get a call because what if—” she stopped, breaking down into sobs.

There was nothing he could do to fix this, she was correct. The thing that was causing her all this agony was his whole life.

“Do you want me to quit my job?” He asked, regretting it the minute the question left his lips. What if she said yes? What if that was the only way to fix their marriage? He would quit. There was no question about that. But that would mean that almost a decade of his life’s work would be worth nothing. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself. Resentment would break anything they had left between them.

Please don’t ask that of me.

She shook her head and he had to keep himself from letting out a huge sigh of relief.

“Do you know I have students who— I shouldn’t tell you. I’m not on the field like you and I don’t know all the things you know, but I see everyday how he’s fucking ruined lives. I want you to catch that motherfucker. You’re in this fight and I’m not letting you leave it without crushing his blood empire. I just don’t want us to be collateral damage. I can’t bear losing you whether it is to divorce or a bullet. I can’t—” she brought her hand to her lips, biting on her newly shaped nails.

He swallowed, tugging her hand away from her mouth and giving it a kiss. “I can’t make promises about the latter,” he said softly, unable to look her in the eyes as he said it. He didn’t want to know what he did to her with those words. “You know I can’t. But when I die, whether it’s tomorrow or 40 years from now, I’ll die your husband. I don’t do divorce. You might think it’s not a big deal for me, the guy who left his first fiancé at the altar. But trust me, you’re a catch and there’s no way I’m letting you escape”

She laughed and nuzzled into his neck. He rested his head on hers and pressed a kiss to her hair. “I’m not joking. You should be very scared, baby. As far as I’m concerned, I’m it for you. Won’t let you leave no matter what you do.”

“Yeah?” She laughed, her eyes glinting with tears but also something new. Her lips quirked up in a mischievous smile. “What if I slept with a bunch of guys?”

He raised an eyebrow, reeling the unhinged jealous little man in his heart to join her in whatever this was that made her smile through her tears. “Good for them. Best pussy they’ll ever have. I mean, I will beat them to death for touching you. But you’re still my wife. Not divorcing you.”

“What if I fucked Steve?” She challenged, raising an eyebrow.

He knew what she was doing. She was making it personal, putting a face to the act and making said face a very familiar one. But he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.

“Last thing he’ll ever do in his life. I’ll kill him and Connie will help me hide his body.”

“Mhmm? What if…..?” She trailed, looking into the distance as she stroked her invisible beard. “What if I let someone else knock me up?”

“You bitch!”

She gasped and shoved at his chest. “How dare you call me a bitch!?”

“How dare you even think of letting another man do that?”

“I won’t actually do that!” She defended, folding her arms over her chest. “I’m just trying to get a raise out of you.”

“And you did,” he supplied, making her scoff.

“How about…? Okay! What if I fucked Escobar?”

“Shit, I would tell everyone!” He laughed. “My wife? Getting that close to that piece of shit and living to tell the story? Yeah, I’d be on the rooftops with a megaphone. Oh and I’ll kill him. Of course. Goes without saying.”

“Well, you were gonna kill him anyway. What will you do to him for touching your wife?” She asked, twirling his overgrown hair around her finger.

Was this…? Noooo! He was just joking, but she seems to like the idea of him killing men for wanting her.

“Baby, what’s wrong with you?” He asked, laughing. She surprised him every goddamn day.

“I don’t know, you tell me,” she licked her lips and drew shaped on his chest with her index finger. “There should be an explanation for why I signed up for all this.”

“You like this, don’t you?” He asked, lowering the register of his voice the way she liked as he took her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “You want me to possess you, to hurt anyone who would want you that way I have you. You like that I can be a dangerous man.”

She shivered, but quickly stabilised herself, looking very blasé as she spoke, “Huh, that answers my question. I always wondered what kind of idiot would be with Escobar. I guess women just like to fuck a powerful man. And money. She’d gotta be in it for the money.”

“She married him before he got rich, actually. And it’s not just women who are attracted to powerful men,” he added, letting her know just how much he liked when she was in a position of power.

“Men too? You’re gonna tell me you want to fuck Escobar?” She asked, making him laugh. He pinched her bum, making her squeal and attempt to get off him. He pulled her back in immediately, not ready to lose contact.

“When I came to your class, I sat in the back the entire time. I enjoyed seeing you in your element, leading the discussion, getting a big room full of people to listen to you. And your ass in a pencil skirt. If I was your student, I would wank off every day thinking of you” he groaned, his cock twitching inside her at the mental image.

“Oh my god!” She exclaimed before hitting him playfully.

“Whaaat? I feel bad for those fuckers in your class, having to talk about Frankenstein’s monster to impress their hot little literature professor.”

“Don’t sexualise my job!” She looked positively scandalised. Like he’d suggested that she let him fuck her on the streets.

“Uh huh? Now you know how it feels? What was that you asked me for your birthday?” He teased. “On yds, the little interrogation fantasy. You’ve been begging me to tie you up and interrogate you.”

She hid her smile from him, covering her face with her hands, but he pried them off to see her looking so sweetly shy at being reminded of the depraved things she wanted him to do to her. “You don’t have to do it,” she said, shy and quiet and she played with her rings.

“Mmm thank you baby, but I’m gonna make your dreams come true. Just be happy I’m not CIA. Cause CIA has some terrible interrogation methods. They’ll fucking waterboard you.”

“Oh my god! Okay this isn’t fun anymore,” she said, getting off him, but he pulled her right back onto his cock, laughing as he caught her expression.

“Let me go!”

“No, no sorry. I shouldn’t talk about the CIA in bed, they’re such a turn off.”

“You think that’s why I’m trying to escape?? Javi, women don’t like talking about waterboarding with a dick inside them.”

“Okay, okay, I know. Just stay in bed. I have today off and I need to be inside you,” he said, rubbing her back in an attempt to coax her into foregoing her household responsibilities for a lazy day in bed with him.

“I have work to do. Papers to grade and clothes to wash. Oh and some pervert,” she said, poking his chest a few times. “has been stealing my panties so I have to go wash them before he gets to them.”

“Oh please, it was just one pair,” he lied, looking away quickly but it wasn’t enough for him to get away with it.

She squinted her eyes at him and he relented. “Fine. It was three. Pink one with the stripes, blue lace ones and a white cotton panty.”

“Pervert!”

“Or I’m just really in love with my wife. You should see the sweet side of it. You don’t know how other guys act on the field. It’s like as soon as they’re in Medellin, they aren’t married.”

“Uh huh?” She said as she tilted her head, her tone suggesting that she wasn’t convinced by his words. “And I’m supposed to be grateful that you aren’t sleeping around? Pendejo!” She punctuated her curse with a slap to his chest.

“That’s not what I meant!” He defended, taking her slapping hand and giving it a kiss.

“Sure, Cabrón.”

He laughed, amused at how adorable she was when angry. He pulled her down to lie down with him, her head on his chest and his hand in her hair. Mornings like these had become so rare. Even without their period of separation, they didn’t have quality time together. Work always called, always overwhelmed and left him with very little to give as a husband. Being too tired to do anything else, he couldn’t even take her out anywhere for dinner. But that would change tonight.

“I made dinner reservations for us. Are you free tonight?”

He’d booked it a while back, but he didn’t know if she would want to go with him after she left. And he didn’t want to promise her a date night before he knew for sure that he would have the day off from work. She did not take it terribly when he had to calculate on her for work, but something told him it wasn’t good for a marriage to keep breaking promises.

“Hmm, I don’t know. This pendejo said he’ll paint my nails and did a half assed job. I might have to book a nail appointment for the night,” she teased, making him laugh. He’d completely forgotten that their activities were preceded by his request to paint her nails.

“I’ll finish the job now,” he said, getting up, but she pushed him back down and trapped him in a loving hug.

“Later. I just wanna stay like this a little longer. Feels good…”

“I like when you hold me like this, mi amor,” he confessed, his voice softening as he opened himself up to allow himself to bask in the euphoria that holding her to his chest brought him.

“I- it calms me down. I need to hear your heart beating. I wake up from bad dreams sometimes and I can’t fall back asleep if I don’t lie down like this.”

He froze. He had no idea she had nightmares. “You never told me.”

“Didn’t want to worry you.”

He said her name softly, making her look up at him from his chest.

“You have to tell me these things,” he said, moving her hair out of the way so he could have an unobstructed view of her. Her features were soft, her eyes open, vulnerable.

“You have a lot on your plate already… I don’t want to be one of your problems.”

“Jesus,” he swore before sighing. “You’re not- I’ll never think of you as a problem. I understand why you worry. It’s not unwarranted. I would never ask you to hide your feelings for me. I thought we talked about these things. You’re the one who’s always telling me that we should communicate about difficult things. What happened to that?”

“Do you remember when I made you choose? Either date me for real or stop coming over for anything other than sex?”

He hummed in response, encouraging her to continue. They'd been fooling around for around two months back then and one night when he was dressing himself to leave, she forced him to confront how he’d been treating her— he’d been giving her mixed signals, pulling her in and pushing her away. He’d act like her boyfriend one minute but get distant the next and she was understandably annoyed.

“And you said you wanted to date me but you warned me that your job was dangerous and that attachments were a weakness. I didn’t want to be your weakness, I still—”

He shook her head, interrupting her mid-sentence, “I was talking out of my ass, I was just scared. And it’s different now. We’re—”

“Yeah but when I think of you strapping a gun and badge on yourself to go out and get shot at by those malparidos, I want to stop you,” she choked on her words, getting up off his chest and hugging her knees to her chest. “I told you I could handle it. That day and the day you asked me to marry you. But, I can’t. I can’t handle it. Ever since Steve was kidnapped- and I know you said he wasn’t in any real danger, but fuck! It was terrifying to see Connie like that and I couldn’t help but worry and put myself in her place. And I couldn’t stop thinking about every terrible thing that could happen to you and I just wanted to lock you up at home. So I left- because I don’t want to be your weakness. But I can’t be brave, I can’t be strong.”

It broke his heart to know that behind the scenes, behind her easy smiles and her strong shoulders he leaned on everyday, there was so much fear. So much insecurity. There was shame too. Had he been more attentive, he would’ve known without her having to tell him, without her having to run away.

He sat up, pulled her close and placed a kiss on her head. “You are brave and you’ve been so strong, putting up with more of my shit than you need to… Sometimes I think I won’t get through this with my soul intact if it weren’t for you. So never think that you’re my weakness.”

She listened, her eyebrows furrowed and eyes never leaving him. She bit down on her lip, pulling at the skin with her teeth, something she did when anxious. He reached over and thumbed her lip, not wanting to wait until she started bleeding.

“I… I’ve put you in a difficult position, but I would never ask you to hide your fears for my comfort. And you leaving definitely did not make me stronger. Just scared the hell out of me. I thought I’d done something so shit that you’d left for good.”

“Sorry I left… I just—”

“I’m sorry you couldn’t talk to me. Not like that would’ve solved anything,” he scoffed, rubbing his eyes. “Nothing short of stopping that bastard is going to solve this.”

“I know, I know…” she sighed.

“I’ll get him,” he affirmed, taking her hands in his. All the things he’d done since he landed in Colombia, all the things he’d lost because of that man… To think he might lose her too… It was chilling. He’d lost friends, made enemies, became the guy everyone called an asshole for not cutting corners, for not putting up with anything that wasn’t right. He’d lost so much, but she wasn’t going to be one of them. He wouldn’t allow it.

Javier Peña wouldn’t rest until Escobar was history.

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