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mxlfoydraco · 1 year

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Hello! I'm getting back into fandom after many years and was hoping you could recommend the best (or most popular) drarry fics to come out in the last 5 years?? The longer the better! I'm having such a blast re-reading old favs and would love more to read! Thank you so much!

I was also away from the fandom the past three years, we share the feeling! I'll go for +100k and skip super well known examples (e.g., Grounds for Divorce)

Alucinatio by alexmeg (127k)

"It's... it's not good," Harry tells them lowly. "They've given him a month's time, only." There is so much he needs to explain, but his head is foggy and exhausted and he can't think properly, can't think of how to relay all that he's learned. "Have you heard of Alucinatio?" is what he starts with. "The Daydream potion," Hermione says. "The person who intakes it experiences very vivid and realistic daydreams of all they could ever want, but is essentially in a severely catatonic state out in the external world, incapable of any basic functions." Harry nods. "Somebody's given it to Malfoy." He remembers the tattered remains of a black coak wrapped around Malfoy. "I think it might have been Professor Snape." They take a minute to process that. "And... the cure?" Ron asks. "Tears of anyone the experiencer craves love of," Hermione answers.

I Do Not Love You by Writ_and_romance (228k)

In 2013, a carefully-designed Obliviation leaves Harry reconfiguring his life and identity without any memories of true love; an act that’s essentially erased Draco Malfoy from his mind despite a wedding band and shared home. In 2000, Draco had expected Pansy’s relationship with Luna to bring the Gryffindors a bit closer to his orbit of quiet, carefully pacifistic existence, but he never expected to navigate such a transparent embrace into a unit of family, friendship, and love. A mystery, two love stories, and a reminder that learning to love never has an end date.

Nor All That Glisters by @sweet-s0rr0w (110k)

Lonely and frustrated on house arrest, with no prospects for the future, Draco begins brewing Felix Felicis in an attempt to improve his lot. Just in the short term, of course. He isn’t a total idiot.

But before long he finds himself with a thriving business, a nice flat, some actual (albeit irritatingly Gryffindor) friends, and a very satisfying sex life. What’s more, no-one is hexing him in the street. And Harry Potter is single, and gorgeous, and giving Draco decidedly interested looks.

Stop taking the Felix? You must be joking…

Soup-pocalypse and The Great Curry Cataclysm by @norelationtoatticus (104k)

Eleven years after the war, Draco Malfoy leads a quiet, boring, and perfectly respectable life, thanks very much. Or, at least he does, until a sudden and very unexpected veela awakening causes him to throw soup all over Harry Potter in the middle of the Ministry cafeteria.

Every Hour Has Led to This by @sassy-cissa (105k)

Banned from the wizarding world and sentenced to live as a Muggle for ten years, Draco Malfoy finds his world turned upside down. Navigating the Muggle world becomes easier thanks to help from some unexpected strangers who become family. But when his mother insists Draco fulfil an agreement set when he was a child, he finds himself married and a father. Then a divorced single father. After the war Harry Potter found himself without purpose, until an unexpected offer changed his life. Playboy, Quidditch star, war hero – Harry seems to have it all, until a Quidditch accident ends his career. Lost and without purpose, Harry’s life is lonely until a surprising event brings him to Draco’s door…literally. Running parallel lives for nearly 10 years, when they reconnect both Draco and Harry find the passion for life that had been missing. A story of love and loss and how the best things in life happen in their own time

Pages of You by @wolfpants (101k)

Summer, 1980. Harry is floating between university and becoming a Real Certified Adult. He's not ready. He really isn't.

In a desperate attempt to have the Best Last Summer ever, he takes a casual job at his godfather's bookshop in London, starts an illicit pen pal affair with a wordy posh boy that he's catching feelings for, all while dealing with the son of Sirius's business rival, one Draco Malfoy, insufferable know-it-all extraordinaire.

A story about trying to figure out who you are, where you're going in life, and who you want to take along with you.

Notes on a resurrection by newleaves (126k)

It was never Draco’s intention to raise Sirius Black from the dead.

The Liars Department by @dorthyanndrarry (103k)

This is a story about Harry meeting up with Draco Malfoy four years after the war. And a story about Harry, well, not hating his job per say, but it's not like he has much to compare it to and it seemed fine. His whole life seemed fine. Then Malfoy came along with and his flashy suits and fast car making everything seem dull in comparison, and Harry... Harry couldn't just leave well enough alone.

Turning Leaves by @kbrick (112k)

Draco and Harry have a one-night stand that ends in disaster after Harry tells Draco he's unable to move beyond their poisonous past. So when Draco finds an unusual Time-Turner in the Department of Mysteries, he seizes the opportunity to start fresh with Harry. Only instead of fixing things, he keeps making them worse.

Bolts by @lqtraintracks (114k)

Harry joins the Hogwarts staff as the new History of Magic Professor, while Draco has already been teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts for the past year. When Samantha, a first year, is being bullied one day and throws a made-up Truth curse at her harasser, only to accidentally hit Harry instead, Harry becomes cursed to tell the truth, and not only that, he has to regularly tell it to Draco Malfoy. Samantha is clearly gifted, maybe the most powerful witch or wizard to ever come through Hogwarts, and yet she has no idea how to take the curse off. As they work to remove it—and also teach Samantha how to control a power that's becoming more dangerous by the day—will Harry's truths become too much to handle? And will whatever’s going on with Draco just make everything exponentially worse?

Freedom to be by @quicksilvermaid (169k)

Harry Potter is the Boy Who Lived. 12 years after the war, he's become the Boy Who Lived For Everyone Else. He has the perfect wife. The perfect house. The perfect job. The perfect friends. Only nothing feels perfect. Until one day he stumbles across a club called Release and begins a journey of self-discovery that takes him to a very different place.

By the Grace by @letteredlettered (139k)

Harry is an Auror instructor. Malfoy wants to be an Auror.

Two to Shore by Lamplighter (204k)

Harry and Draco meet in Madam Malkin’s and instantly take a liking to each other. Just kidding. They don’t, but Harry does get sorted into Slytherin, and they do become extremely good friends.

Way Down We Go by @xiaq (109k)

The war was over. Or at least that’s what the papers said. They’d been saying it, for months, as if people needed reminding. Maybe they did.

In which Harry and Draco both run away from their pasts and conveniently choose to hide in the same tiny American town. It's super.

Nyctophilia by prolonged_autumn (107k)

Everyone's back for 8th year, and Harry and his friends seem determined to spend their last year in school running around at night, hyped up on coffee and alcohol and Honeydukes candy, doing all the childish things they didn't have the chance to do before. Draco watches as he's always watched: from afar, quiet and bitter and hopelessly in love. That is, until Pansy decides she's had quite enough of it.

Make Yourself by @anyaelizabethfic (103k)

Harry just wants to be safe within the freshly painted walls of Grimmauld Place, with his friends around him. But when he hears Draco Malfoy has been spotted at the local soup kitchen, he can’t help but encourage a different type of stray to come under his roof.

Kept Man by @drarry (147k)

A downtrodden Harry Potter in a serious dry spell is looking to be a kept man, and a lonely Draco Malfoy responds to his anonymous ad. A perfect storm of lust, scandal, and maybe even love. A Daddy Kink Magnum Opus.

The Ordeal of Being Known by @lou-isfake (146k)

When Auror Potter is anonymously cursed with silence by being forced to hide his own voice inside his mind, there’s unfortunately only one person in the country with the qualifications to fix it: Certified and Licensed Healer Legilimens, Draco Malfoy, specialist in Mind Curses and Afflictions. It’s obviously a terrible idea, a disaster waiting to happen, but Draco’s never been able to back down from a challenge… especially from Potter.

Harry Potter and the Welcome to the World of Grey by @sobsicles (456k)

When Harry fails to keep his anger at bay and Voldemort possesses his mind, the events that follow lead him down a long road to realizing the world isn’t as black and white as it seems. Chaos, hilarity, and tragedy ensue with a Dark Lord being honest all the time, a rival becoming something else, and a world demanding to be saved. Featuring frightened Death Eaters, deep conversations with a monster, Pureblood traditions being ridiculous, and the fight to do the right thing with no true options. Harry’s life just gets more and more bizarre with each passing moment. ~~~ Or, the one where Harry’s life gets split in half, and he has to figure out how to bring it back together.

The Secret Keeper by @the-fools-errand (225k)

On Halloween 1981, Albus Dumbledore made a decision that would change the course of history, concealing Harry Potter’s survival at the hands of Lord Voldemort underneath a Fidelius Charm. But when Harry comes of age in the Muggle world, Dumbledore realises too late that the fate of the world may depend on a boy who has never held a wand. An unlikely team assembles to teach him everything he needs to know before the charm runs out, but only one of them knows the truth behind the Dark Lord’s return to power. If it were anyone else, Draco would have no problem turning them over to the Death Eaters, but there’s something about this certain bespectacled idiot that has him questioning everything he’s ever known. Will Draco seal the fate of the wizarding world by uncovering the Chosen One or will Harry save Draco from a fate of his own?

Dwelling on Dreams by @the-sinking-ship (135k)

Draco thought he could avoid Potter for the duration of his brief return to England. He’d stick to his schedule and be back home in Paris, where he belonged, in a few short months. No trouble at all. He had plenty to occupy him, what with the opening of the London branch of his successful apothecary, his innovative research, drinks with Pansy, a backlog of unread potions periodicals. Except Head Auror Potter is everywhere — in Draco's chair, at his door, in his dreams. All six feet of motorbike-riding, combat-boot-wearing, sex-hair-sporting Saviour of the World packed into one unfairly fetching uniform. Potter won’t leave Draco the bloody hell alone, won’t let him breathe, let him forget, let him sleep. Because no matter how fast Draco Malfoy runs, Harry Potter is always hot on his heels.

A Sword Laid Aside by @korlaena (128k)

When Draco’s cover is blown during a deep undercover operation and the Ministry is compromised, Ron takes Draco to the only safe place he can think of—Potter. Hiding out with a taciturn Harry Potter, who has been missing from the Wizarding World for almost two decades after a shocking fall from grace, is nothing like Draco thought it would be. Draco has to navigate dealing with this Potter while being hunted by Dark wizards and wanted by extremists in the Ministry. When things take a turn for the worse, Draco has to decide whether he's going to keep running or find a way to protect the world and the people he cares about most.

Changing Tides by @carpemermaidtales (109k)

Draco has spent half of his life spouting the things his father has taught him without much thought about how he feels about what he says. When he unexpectedly comes face to face with the Dark Lord, he grapples with the harsh realities of the world and struggles with his changing views on life. Instead of doing what’s expected of him fifth year, he joins Dumbledore’s Army and learns how to defend himself, how to make his own choices, and how he can be something greater than his father’s example as he grows into his own man rather than his father’s shadow. The choices he makes change both his and Harry’s fates, intertwining their paths until they converge.

Taking Chances by @gracerene (135k)

After the war, Draco disappeared and started over in America, vowing never to return to Great Britain and the fraught past he left behind. Unfortunately, when his mates convince him to sign up for an exchange programme for the last year of their Auror Training, Draco learns that he doesn’t have much of a choice in the matter.

Graceless Heart by @orange-peony (132k)

Harry is lost and broken after the war. He has gone to countless funerals, broken up with Ginny, moved back into Grimmauld Place—which feels darker and dirtier than ever before despite how much he tries to fix it. He feels lonely and desperate, but he won’t ask for help, and he still can’t cry.

When he agreed to help the Aurors at Malfoy Manor over the summer, he thought that he would be breaking dark curses. Harry never thought that he would actually spend his days sorting out dusty books with Draco Malfoy, or teaching him how to cook.

Little by little, as they begin to navigate their life post-war, Harry and Draco become intimate…in more ways than Harry could have ever expected.

Brave Though The Stars They Make Me by @dwell-the-brave (108k)

After the events at the end of his Sixth Year, Draco Malfoy has been kept all but prisoner in his childhood home, Malfoy Manor. Alone, terrified, and desperate for some way out, he begins to have strange dreams - dreams of Harry Potter. Are they a trick of his mind? Or are they a way to change his fate, and a chance at redemption?

Always Already by @aibidil (170k)

Harry and Draco are perfectly fine, separately minding their business in 2004, when the Unspeakables conscript them into service... in the First War against Voldemort.

Come for mutual pining and forced proximity in a 1980 hotel room, stay for young Sirius and philosophising about immortality and wormholes. And an eighties cowboy soap opera.

He Comes Like a Thunderstorm by @korlaena (140k)

Draco is doing his best to balance the life he wants to live and the life he’s forced to live. He’s nearing the tail-end of a long, post-war probation when Harry Potter crashes back into his life with all the grace of a charging Erumpent, breaking through his carefully constructed rules and routine. Caught up in a whirlwind of sex and lust, Potter unwittingly shows Draco that his life as an Incubus doesn’t have to be as lonely and unfulfilling as he thought, but how long can it last?

Close Behind by @oflights (134k)

To rescue Draco from the Underworld, Harry has to look forward. Unfortunately, Draco has to look back

where all the veins meet by @saxamophone (146k)

It's the summer of 1998. The battle is over, and Voldemort is dead, but Harry still has more questions than answers. Who is he without a piece of Voldemort's soul in his head? What is he supposed to do now? His friends try to help, but the only thing that can hold his attention—one of the only things that ever has—is Draco Malfoy, out on parole and weirdly hanging around the British Museum. As they keep running into each other, Harry sees that Malfoy is different, and he wonders if he can be someone else, too. Featuring rumpled band shirts, poker games everyone hates, fumbling sex, and a Harry going a little mental over how wands even work.

#drarry #drarry reclist #drarry fic rec #drarry fic recs #drarry fics #drarry fic #draco malfoy #hpdm #harry potter

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christopher-bangnaldoskzz · 10 months

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Soft Dom Bangchan x Female Reader Sub!

Genre: 🌶️🌶️🌶️

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: sexual content included I am going to say this is strictly 18+ MDNI fan fiction.

Summary:A sub needs a dom, a dom wants a sub but what happens when feelings overlap with contracts and love creeps in? Will a contract remain only a contract? Or are emotions like love too hard to keep in check?

A/N: would also like to dedicate this story to @daceydeath , thank you for always putting up with my deluluness, also thank you for putting up with my drama fill life honestly. I wouldn’t be still writing if it wasn’t for you encouraging me. Also thank you so much for writing my summary xx

Y/N POV

Waking up to your alarm, you couldn’t help but feel Chan's arms tighten around you as you struggled to turn the phone off.

You turn your body around now, face to face with Chan, his eyes still closed as he pulls you closer to him, his nose touching yours; you wrap your leg around his hip as he caresses your thigh.

“Morning”, you whisper, combing your hands through his hair.

“Shhhhh, I’m still sleeping”, he mumbles, making you smile; he is so loving and soft at this moment you can’t help but stare at him.

“I have to get up”, you continue as Chan's grip on your thigh tightens.

He presses his lips against yours, whispering, "I said shhh.". His hands move up your body, caressing it as he moves. You can feel your heart racing as you realise your situation. You close your eyes and surrender to the moment. Moving your lips in the sink, Chan moves his hand to your lower back, pressing you further into his body, his member hardening as you roll your hips slightly.

The thought of this man being so easy to turn on made you giggle. "What?" Chan says, pulling away.

"Nothing. I just find it cute. You're so easy to turn on,” you said before reconnecting your lips.

Chan pov

WHAT IS HAPPENING TO YOU, CHRISTOPHER? Fucking pull yourself together; you’re 26 years old and acting like a horny fucking teenager. I can’t help how her hips roll perfectly against my cock, her lips so soft and plump.

I think……SHIT……I think I’m falling for my sub…..

I need to pull myself back into reality. "Go get ready for work”, I growl, annoyed that I surrendered to her again.

“Why so grumpy,” she said, pouting before connecting her lips to mine.

“I said go get ready…you’ll be late” Doing as I said, Y/N got up off the bed.

“You know I could be late today. What’s Bec going to do? Fire me” Her laughter was so intoxicating;. I would have taken her up on the offer if I hadn’t been at the company this morning.

“Baby girl. There isn’t enough time,” I said, getting off the bed.

Y/N grins as she walks into her closet. Following her, I lean against the doorway. “Don’t you have to get dressed?” she said, putting her jeans on.

I ignored her and continued to watch her getting ready for her day. “Sir, at this point.... you're late for your promotions” She walked over to me, placing her hand on my chest.

Y/N POV

He’s acting so strange right now, Sir?.... Your heart is beating so fast.”

He quickly steps back “ I uh don’t feel well”, his face becoming flushed. “A couple of the boys have had a cold….I think maybe I got it from them.”

“I don’t have to go to work…if you’re not feeling well”, you smiled, pulling out your phone.

"No...." he clears his throat. “I mean, no, it’s okay. I have to go to work.”

“Okay…but tonight I’ll make you some nice soup…and I’ll even let you pick the movie", you smile softly.

Chan smiles as his eyes flick to your lips. He leans in closer and whispers, “Deal.” He takes your hand in his, pressing his fingertips against yours before locking your fingers together.

…….

“I’ll see you tonight then” he smiles softly before kissing your cheek as the car pulls up to your work.

You lean in and softly kiss Chan's lips, not caring if he’s unwell. “Baby girl, you’ll get sick” his eyes glow.

“It’s okay,” you said, reconnecting your lips. You could tell Master Chan was fighting the rage to pull you over the centre console and fuck you stupid in this car park. His crinkled nose and eyes that were squeezed shut said it all.

“I really have to go..." you said, pulling away. Chan's eyes remained shut for just a moment longer.

"Yes," he replied as he returned to reality.

You grab your handbag and open the car door. “Have a good day, sir." You smile as you exit the car.

“You too, baby girl” he gives you a soft smile as you close the door, his eyes following you as you enter the shop.

CHAN POV

My eyes follow her into the building. "God, she’s just so breathtaking”, I say to myself, still amazed at how I managed to score a girl like Y/N. I feel my heart skip a beat as I can’t stop thing about her on the way to work. I can't help but smile.

………

“Earth to Hyung,” Minho says, waving his hands in my face.

“Oh, sorry, what’s up?" I said, snapping out of my daydream.

“You feel alright?” He continued

“Oh ummm….I think I caught what Jeongin had” Great, now I’m continuing my lie at work as well; good job, Chan.

Minho places his hand on my forehead. “You don’t feel sick.”

“Minho, just stop it,” I say, shooing away his hand. Why does he always catch me out in a lie?

“Sorry, Hyung. Just trying to help,” he said, looking down.

“ I know you are…I don’t mean to be snappy,” I said, feeling horrible about the way I spoke to him.

“Mmmm,” Minho said; now he’s got an attitude with me great.

Y/N POV

“Okay, the new owner will be here before closing, so can you show him around, please?" Bec said as you were packing up the stuff behind the counter.

“Sure, no problem at all….what is his name?" you said, trying to make some conversation.

“Oh, it’s…..actually, to be honest with you, I can’t remember,” she laughed.

“That’s okay. I’m sure he’ll say it when he arrives”, you laughed, continuing on with the packing.

“Well, I’m gonna go….thank you again; I honestly appreciate you” Bec smiled before she grabbed her bag and walked out the door.

CHAN POV

“Hyung…are you sure you're okay?…. I’m happy to stay with you if you’re sick” Minho was not letting up; if I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was into me.

“Minho honestly….I’m okay…I just feel a little sick, that’s all." Why do I keep doing this? It’s like I must keep repeating it to believe it myself.

What am I supposed to do? Say, “Minho, I’m not sick. It's actually worse…for years, I’ve had this secret life….I’ve been seeing a girl behind everyone’s back….oh she’s also moving in with me in 2 weeks….not to mention I’ve got her a job with JYP because I’m a possessive asshole and want to keep her close to me…because well….I might actually be falling for her” NO….lying is easier.

“Okay, but I honestly think you should go home after this schedule…..you’ve been zoned out all day.” Minho was an amazing observer; he was the first to figure out anything in the group. Honestly, nothing gets past this man, which is why I’m so nervous.

“I think you're right, Minho, thanks” I smiled as our names were called to sit again.

Y/N POV

Chan

“I’m finishing early today…what time do you close again?”

Y/N

“Like 3….just have to wait for the new owner.”

Chan

“Him? Or her?”

Chan's jealousy made you giggle

Y/N

“It’s a man, Chan 😂”

Chan

“😑”

Y/N

“🙄”

Chan

“Hey… don’t roll your eyes at me…I may be sick, but I’m not above smacking your ass….I’m on my way.”

Y/N

“Ooooo….is that a promise..😘”

You giggle as you hear the door open. Quickly put down your phone, and look up. “Good aft…….Dylan?” Your jaw drops, your body stiffens. You feel a wave of nervousness come over you as you realise it was Dylan who just walked in. You weren't expecting him. He stares at you for a few moments before speaking. "Hello, Love", he smirks as he walks over to you, almost like he knows this is the place you work.

“What are you doing here?” Your voice begins to quiver.

“Oh, sweetie….I’m the new owner” he steps closer, lifting your chin up to look at him.

“Don’t fucking touch me?” you say, swiping his hand away from your face.

“Don’t be like that, baby” he closes the gap between you; your body is now paralysed. “I thought I’d never find you,” he said, leaning in; you are unable to move. WHAT IS HAPPENING?

Suddenly Dylan gets pulled away from you. “SHE SAID DON'T TOUCH HER” When did Chan get here? How much had he seen? You suddenly snap out of your head when Chan punches Dylan in the face.

“Channie, STOP” you yell, trying to stop Chan from almost killing him.

“FUCKING TOUCH WHATS MINE AGAIN AND ILL KILL YOU” he yells as you are now standing between him and Dylan.

Looking down, Chan cups your face. “You okay?” He says with watery eyes.

You nod as all chans attention turns to you, his eyes locked on yours. “I’m okay” you reassure him.

CHAN POV

Pulling up to the front of the Y/N shop, I couldn’t help but get a feeling something wasn’t right. Watching this man walk in wearing a suit, I thought that he could be the new owner Y/N had mentioned he was visiting today.

He gave me an off feeling, so without wanting Y/N to see me, I thought I’d stand close to the entrance in case she needed me. As I approached the door, I heard her, “Don’t fucking touch me” My heart dropped into the pit of my stomach; she sounded terrified.

I busted through the entrance and saw him standing in front of her. He had a menacing look in his eyes, and his body language was aggressive. I could tell he was trying to intimidate her and was relieved she had the courage to stand up to him.

“Don’t be like that, baby” I felt my hand close into a ball. HOW FUCKING DARE HE? “I thought I’d never find you." The moment he lifted her chin, I saw red.

I wanted to hit him, to make him feel the same kind of helplessness he had made her feel. I could feel my blood boiling, and I wanted to make him pay for his words. I took a step forward, ready to make him regret ever crossing our paths. I pull him out of her space and punch him in his smug face. “SHE SAID DON'T TOUCH HER".

He stumbled back, his hand over his face. I could see the shock and fear in his eyes. I felt a sense of satisfaction as I watched his eyes water. “Channie, STOP,” Y/N said, snapping me back into reality.

“FUCKING TOUCH WHATS MINE AGAIN AND ILL KILL YOU” I yelled over the top of her. I wanted him to know that she's mine and ill never let anything get in my way of having her.

Her terrified face made me soften instantly. "You okay?"... "I'm okay," she nodded, and I wrapped her arms around me. I wanted her to know that I would never let anyone hurt her. I kissed the top of her head, and we stayed like that for a few moments before I finally let go.

I looked into her eyes and smiled. "You're safe now," I said reassuringly. I touched her cheek gently before taking her hand in mine.

"This guy? Really? Y/N?" She nodded and looked away. I hugged her tightly, and she let out a deep breath. "It's going to be alright," I said, completely ignoring him.

"I knew you had a new dom.... but this guy?..... how embarrassing"

I looked up at him, and my blood was boiling. I wanted to punch him. "Want me to fucking break your nose?"

"Sir, let's just go", she said, grabbing my hand again.

"I'm not going anywhere," I said, pulling my hand away. I stepped closer to him and glared. "I'll repeat my question...Do you want me to break your nose? I swear I'll do it."

"No," Y/N said, shaking her head. She reached out and grabbed my arm, her grip surprisingly strong. "Please, let's just go home." I nodded, the fight draining out of me as I realised how I had been so close to losing control. I felt a wave of shame wash over me as I stepped away from the confrontation. Taking Y/N's hand, I silently led the way back to the car.

Y/N POV

He opens the car door for you. “I will talk about this at home”, he growls; why was he so angry?

Once you pull into the driveway, Chan stops the car and sighs, “Sir, what happened back there….I’m”

“Don’t say you’re sorry” he growled. “Stop apologising for doing nothing wrong.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, looking down.

“Look at me”, he growls, tilting your chin up so your eyes meet his. “I’m sorry you had to see that side of me”, his finger brushing along your bottom lip. “I thought I was gonna lose you” those words made your heart flutter.

You had only known Chan briefly; however, how he made you feel was undeniable. “I’m not going anywhere”, you said, cupping his face, his eyes closing as his cheek pressed further into your touch.

“Let’s go inside…..I promised you soup” You smile, chans eyes flick open.

Chan leans in “But first”, he grabs your throat gently and pulls you in, kissing you softly as his hand squeezes just tight enough.

Your body tingles as his tongue makes its way into your mouth.

“When we get inside….I gonna rip your clothes off,” he said, pulling back for air. “Then…..I’m gonna kiss every inch of what’s mine,” he pants .

“Is that all?” you say, encouraging him to continue.

“No, then I’m going to make you scream my name repeatedly,” he growls. The hunger in his eyes takes over. He holds your face in his hands and places his lips onto yours. His kiss is filled with passion. His hands start to wander your body, exploring every inch of it.

His touch is electrifying, and you can feel your body trembling. You can feel your heart racing and your body screaming for more. He pulls away and looks into your eyes, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips. His hands grip your waist tightly, and you can feel the heat radiating off his body.

A/n: thank you all so much…..please like and reblog helps me keep motivation 🤣

Taglist: @bellamuerte1987 @nightrayseishina @9900z @armystay89 @dreamstarsandskz @raven-skz95 @fosfopirite @neyangi @princesspanda16 @krishastumblernow @agnes-king @bangtanmix73 @djeniryuu @calicanbeevil @khemrose @fawnpeaks @missrobyn81 @dreambelieveinme @umbreonwolfy @jisungiexx @scarletrosesposts @choisoorin @izzathequeen @binnies-minsung-fanclub @jetblackbelle @bunnyxoxodarling @berryberrytan @sky-outta @zerefdragn33l @shiningnono @tinys0ftie @goblin-waifu @zinnichong @tuggybug @nokacchan @amaranth-writing @seungbinis @jisunglover3409 @kimseungminsprincess @uwuitsjungwoo @cakeracha

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paintyoureyeswithavividmind · 8 months

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close to home | chapter sixty three

plot: the reader and Daryl reconnect in a treehouse

series masterlist

Pairing: Eventual Daryl Dixon x f!reader Word Count: 3,499 Warnings: violence, blood, typical twd, alcohol use, tipsy sex (the best kind tbh) no plot just smut so ya'll are welcome A/N: thank you for reading!!

By nightfall, a fire was going, Daryl returned from a quick and successful hunt, and you unpacked all your supplies. He’d grabbed mattress pads and blankets, pillows, food, water, candles, and a bottle of wine. Jerry must’ve snuck in one of his cobblers because a small one was sitting in one of the bags. There were also tarps that you didn’t know what for--until Daryl got back and nailed them to cover the windows.

It was dark in the treehouse except for the fire and a few candles. You had already eaten what Daryl brought back--rabbit--and were eating the cobbler straight out of the container with the open bottle of wine.

“I gotta have Jerry tell me how he makes these.” You mumbled through your food. “I could eat one every day of my life.

Daryl smiled at you but didn’t say anything. He’d been quiet since he came back from hunting--which was only about thirty minutes anyway. He was happy, you could tell, and you knew he was at peace, which is why he was quiet.

You grabbed the wine bottle by its neck and took a few sips. “Where did you get this?”

“Stole it from Ezekiel.”

You chuckled and took another sip, feeling it bubble in your chest. “He’s gonna kill you.”

He grabbed the bottle from you and drank from it. “He ain’ ever gonna know.”

You smiled at Daryl and lifted the fork up to his mouth. He rolled his eyes but ate off it anyway.

“Tell me about you from before,” Daryl said, turning around to lay back with his head in your lap.

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

You smiled and sat your hand on his upper chest as you thought about his request. You weren’t even sure where to begin, honestly. You decided to first start with your family: your two sisters and mother and father. You told him about growing up on a farm, all the crap that came with it, and all the trouble you got up to.

You told him funny stories about you in high school and the friends you had. About all the silly fights you got into with your sisters and even your cousins. About when you ran away from home, but your mom caught you right before you skipped town.

“College was nice. I made a lot of friends and had so much fun,” You said, putting the wine bottle down. You were definitely buzzed, and you knew Daryl was too from how he laughed freely along with you.

You reached down and unbuttoned his shirt's first couple of buttons to gently run your fingers against his chest. “When I got accepted into medical school, me and my sisters got so drunk at the bar that the sheriff had to give us a ride home.”

“I woulda loved ya back then if we ever met,” Daryl said, looking up at you.

“You wouldn’t have even looked twice. I was a farm-raised nobody.”

He shook his head. “I woulda loved ya. Woulda saw you on the street and been a goner.”

You smiled and leaned down to kiss his forehead. “You’re crazy, that’s what you are.” You rubbed your hand against his upper chest; his skin was smooth other than old scars. With your other hand you grabbed the bottle and took a long sip. It was almost done.

“Tell me about you from before.”

“Ya don’ wanna know about that. Probably would walk right on outta here.”

“I wouldn’t,” You cupped his cheeks and stared down at him. “It’s too cold outside for me to leave. I’d have to at least stay here until the sun was up.”

Daryl swatted your hands away and then begrudgingly told you about him. You already knew more than just the basics, such as how his mother and father died--and you knew how Merle died already. So he told you about his years in high school and how he was always either ditching or suspended for ditching. Which didn’t surprise you.

He’d had a few friends that Merle didn’t fuck up for him, but after they graduated, they went off to college, and he stayed home.

“I was a piece shit, honestly, didn’ do nothin’ good for myself.” Daryl told you.

“That’s not true,” You said, although you partially agreed with him. Not about the piece of shit part, but the old Daryl didn’t seem to make the best decisions and resembled nothing of the man you’d married. “Besides, you’re one of the strongest, bravest, smartest, and sexiest men I know.”

“One of ‘em? Who are the others?”

You laughed at his joke. “You know what I mean, old man.”

“It’s been a while since ya called me that. Didn’ realize till now just how much I missed it.” Daryl sat up and spun around. He grabbed you by the legs and pulled you closer, and you set your legs on his upper thighs, and his were outstretched behind you.

You set your hands on either of his cheeks as your head swooned a little bit. You and him were definitely wine tipsy; enough to take the edges and awkwardness off. But you felt safe up in the treehouse, and you felt protected. You played with the scruff on his chin as he stared at you.

“Do ya believe me?”

You nodded and pressed your forehead against his lips, getting a few soft kisses. You set your hands on his chest and unbuttoned his shirt the rest of the way so you could see his skin. You kissed his collarbone and wrapped your arms around his lower waist. His muscles were taunted under your fingertips, and you could feel him tensing each time you kissed him.

Daryl mumbled your name, and his body relaxed against your touch. You scooted closer and moved your lips up his neck. You pushed his shirt off and ran your hands down his biceps; he was so muscular, so strong, even when relaxed. You couldn’t stop yourself from running your fingernails along the lengths of his arm, which left goosebumps in their wake.

You moved your hand down his abdomen and to his jeans, fumbling with the button and zipper for a second while running your tongue up the length of his neck.

“Jesus Christ,” Daryl grunted.

You smiled against his skin before pushing your hand between his jeans and briefs and palming his growing erection. You sucked gently on one of the spots on his neck you knew he loved, and you felt him grow even harder.

One of Daryl’s hands reached up to pull out your braid, and your hair fell over your shoulders, tickling his skin, and he fisted his hand through your hair at the base of your head. You moaned as you sucked on his skin, dipping your hand into his briefs and running it along his velvety smooth skin.

“You’re so hard, honey, is everything okay?” You whispered in his ear.

His chest was moving up and down rapidly as he nodded. You squeezed him before wiping your thumb across his leaking precum tip.

“So fuckin’ sexy.”

“Tell me what you want, old man.” You leaned back to look at his beautiful eyes. “Tell me how you want me.”

“On your knees.”

Not even a minute later, you were naked with your legs spread out, ass in the air, and Daryl was thrusting into you hard from behind. The position had him reaching parts inside of you you didn’t think were possible, and you struggled not to cry from how good it felt.

Daryl’s hands held your hips tight as he slammed into you repeatedly.

Then one of those hands wrapped around your hair, and he pulled you upwards. The pain from it was nothing compared to how good it felt being dominated like that, and you moaned loudly and closed your eyes. One hand wrapped around your middle, with a hand palming your breast, while the other gripped your hip.

“Ya like that?” His breath was hot in your ear, sending chills down your body. “Ya gotta use ya words, pretty girl.”

“Yes, yes,” You were desperate. His hoarse voice in your ear and his grunts and moans were too much for you. “Daryl, I’m going to-.” You couldn’t even finish your sentence before you were coming. You clenched around him as you moaned and pleaded his name louder than ever.

“Such a good girl,” Daryl said. His thrusts were like torture through your orgasm, and you could hear how wet you were.

“Daryl,” You moaned. You couldn’t believe this side of him; it had to have been the alcohol. He was never this talkative.

“Ya want more, baby girl? Tell me what ya want.”

You couldn’t even think straight, and then when you felt his lips clamp down around your neck, your eyes rolled back, and you were speechless. But you thanked God Daryl wasn’t.

“Ya so fuckin’ wet for me.”

“I missed this little pussy so bad, gorgeous.”

“Fuck, (Y/N)...”

“Suck on these for me, will ya, darlin’?”

Without even hesitating, you opened your mouth and sucked harshly on his fingers before they were ripped away from you, and within seconds you felt them rub against your clit in time with his thrusts.

“Daryl…” You nearly yelled and leaned your head back against your shoulder.

“Ya know how good ya taste, baby girl?” He asked before bringing his fingers up to his mouth. You turned to watch him; his cheeks hollowed as he sucked you off his fingers. Then he returned them to your clit for a few seconds before showing them in your mouth.

You moaned against his fingers, licking and sucking until he was satisfied. His fingers were only on you for a few seconds before you nearly started yelling when you came again.

“That’s right, baby girl,” He grunted, thrusting through your orgasm. “Tell me how much you like it?”

“Oh God, Daryl, so much.” You moaned loudly. “I need more of you.”

Your back hit the mattress pad, and he was slamming into you before you could blink. Your legs were jelly, and you couldn’t bring them up to wrap around his waist, so they went slack as he fucked you hard. You couldn’t fathom how much stamina he had tonight, nor all his dirty talk.

“Daryl…” You whined as he repeatedly hit the same spot again and again, winding you up all over again.

“I know, baby girl, I know.” His voice was so deep and hoarse in your ear, and you ran your fingernails along his back, making him groan. “‘M gonna fuckin’ cum inside of ya, fill ya up so good. Make ya mine.”

“I already am,” You whimpered at a particularly hard thrust, and you could feel yourself starting to get sore. Tears leaked from your eyes at how good it felt, and he paused for a second and looked at you, wiping them away.

“Feel good?” He asked you under his breath.

You nodded. “Keep going, hard.”

Daryl fucked you like he did the night that he asked you to marry him; hard, with his hands, mouth, tongue, and teeth everywhere he could touch. You were sure you left scratches bleeding down his back as you came one more time before he did, filling you so much so you could feel it leaking out before he even finished.

You winced when he pulled out of you before letting your sweaty body relax into the mattress bad.

“Fuck,” Daryl muttered. “Darlin’, ya bleedin’.”

“Hmm?”

“I made ya bleed, I- I am so sorry.”

You sat up partially and saw little blood on him. “It’s okay. It’s been a really long time since I had it like that. I’m just sore, it doesn’t hurt.”

“Are ya sure?”

You nodded, “Just get something to clean me off.”

He chuckled, gave you a yes, ma’am, and was gone for a second before he was back, taking care of you like he always did. Then he brought you into his arms, and you sighed with content against his chest.

“We should drink like that more often. You were…”

“Don’ remind me.”

You smiled and looked up at him. “I loved it. Why haven’t you said anything like that before?”

“Just kept it up in my head, I guess.”

You snuggled closer to him under the warm blanket. “Well, I except to be called baby girl much more often, old man.”

“Ain’ an old man.”

***

The following day, you woke up to an erection digging into your back so hard you were sure it left it bruise, and you woke Daryl to give his body what it clearly wanted. The two of you made slow, tender love to each other for nearly an hour before your stomach grumbled too hard, and Daryl went to fetch you something to eat from the supplies you brought.

After eating, you got dressed and went outside. The sun was shining again, and about a foot of beautiful, crystal snow had partially frozen over. Your boots crunched over it as you and Daryl worked to clear the platform and the parts of the roof you could reach.

“I wanna walk around. I need to stretch my legs.” You told him as you grabbed your weapons. Your machete went to its usual home, but you left the bow behind.

Daryl followed you down the rope ladder, and you both took a few seconds to look around the area before walking. Flurries were floating around from the branches above you and the wind, so when you looked at Daryl, his hair was coated in them. You knew yours must match.

“You wanna know what I love most about you, Dixon.” You asked him.

“What, Dixon?”

You smiled, your heart fluttering. “That you’re not what I expected you to be. When we first met.”

“What did you expect?”

You shrugged. “Some macho, manly man who didn’t have a care about anything in the world.”

“Ya sayin’ I ain’ manly?”

Laughing loudly, you looped your arm around his. “I’m not saying you aren’t. I’m just saying that you’re the sweetest guy I’ve ever known. Both before and after. And I just really admire you for it.” Daryl blushed and shook his head, and you stood on your toes to kiss his red cheek. “Just as I said, sweet.”

Daryl grunted in response and said he was going to check the snares. You watched as he walked away, admiring him in his shawl and how he carried his crossbow. He was a perfect figure against snow blankets, and you bit your lip as you watched him.

There was still lingering anxiety as you looked at him. You believed that he wouldn’t let what happened happen again. But you weren’t quite sure about it. He didn’t know the future. You didn’t. And it killed you to think that it could happen again. You weren’t sure if you could survive it. You barely survived it the first time--if you had, you wouldn’t have fallen into him again so quickly. You would’ve been able to let him walk out of your room at the kingdom and be content with never seeing him again.

You sighed to yourself and crossed your arms. It was freezing but the fresh air felt nice against your rosy cheeks. And the surrounding area was so peacefully quiet that you wanted to bask in it.

Something hit the back of your head, and you felt snow fall into the back of your jacket. You scoffed and turned again. “Did you really just throw a snowball at me, Dixon?”

He had another one in his hand, about five yards from you. He tossed it into the air and caught it. “I did.”

“What are you, ten years old?” You asked but bent down to pick up snow in your own hand. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him about to throw another one at you, and you quickly jumped behind a tree.

“Can’ hide from me, foreve’,”

You smiled widely and leaned against the tree. You could hear the crunch of his footsteps, and when he was close enough, you ducked around the tree and jumped on his back. You shoved the snow into his face and laughed loudly.

“I let ya do that,” Daryl said as he wiped snow off his nose.

Your boots hit the ground, and then Daryl grabbed you, pinning you against the tree before you even realized it. “You did not. You must be losing your touch in your golden years,” You said.

“That ain’ what ya said last night.” Daryl dipped his head and whispered in your ear. “Think ya was tellin’ me how much ya need me.” His voice was deep, and you felt your stomach flip.

You looked up at him as flashbacks of the night before and then this morning when he was buried deep inside you. You felt heat run straight through you, grabbed him by his shawl, and brought his lips to yours. You could still hear those words ringing in your head.

Daryl pushed you against the tree with his body, and you reached down to palm him over his jeans. His lips moved quickly over yours, and his hands couldn’t find a spot to settle.

“Gotta get ya back to the treehouse, huh?” He mumbled against your lips.

You shook your head and unzipped his jeans. “Here.”

“It’s freezin’ out,”

“I don’t fucking care,” You said, kissing him again.

Daryl groaned against your lips before stepping away and taking off his shawl. You were instantly touching him again, trying to reconnect your lips when he had you lie down on the shawl, and he worked at taking off your sweats. You could feel the cold from the snow as soon as your pants were off, but you ignored it.

Your cold fingers worked at lowering his pants enough to get his cock out, and you had only just started moving your hand up and down when he swatted your hand away to spread your legs for him. You bit your lip at seeing him lining up to fuck you.

His fingers were as cold as ice when he rubbed them against your clit and teased your opening. Your eyes screwed shut, and you moaned softly. “Don’t tease me.”

He didn’t say anything as he thrust hard into you, which had you nearly yelling in arousal. Your fingers locked around his neck as he fucked you. You could feel snow everywhere, and your legs tingled with cold, but it was exhilarating. Having him fuck you outside like this.

“Fuck, ya so wet, baby girl,” Daryl grunted in your ear. “All for me.”

***

You and Daryl arrived at Alexandria four days later, hand in hand. Eugene was manning the gate, and he was happy to see the two of you. There were a few other people on watch. Some of them Daryl hadn’t met you, so you introduced them. The streets were slushy, and you kept slipping next to him as you walked toward your house.

"(Y/N)!”

You smiled as soon as you heard Judith yelling for you, and when you saw her running as fast as she could, you dropped Daryl’s hand to meet her halfway. You scooped her up and spun her around before putting her back on the ground and cupping her cheeks. “I missed you so much, Jude.” You said.

“You missed the first snow,” She whined. “We didn’t get to have our annual snowball fight. And you were gone longer than you said you’d be.”

“I know, sweetie. I’m sorry. I came as soon as Adam cleared me.”

“Can I see your scar?” She asked with excitement.

You laughed and nodded. “Later. Look who’s with me.”

Judith looked around you and smiled wide when she saw her uncle. “Daryl!”

You smiled as she threw herself into his arms, and then the door opened, and Michonne walked out in her pajamas. She was thrown off when she saw you but quickly came over to hug you. “I wasn’t expecting you back so soon. I didn’t know you were coming.”

“I wanted to surprise the kids.” You said, adjusting the bow on your shoulder. You lowered your voice and looked at your best friend, who kept glancing back at Daryl. “We want to work things out. I want to work things out. I love him.”

She slowly smiled and nodded. “I’m happy to see it. Is he moving back in?”

“Yeah, but we can move into one of the emptier houses.”

“No, I want you with me,” Michonne told you. “And it would break Judith and RJ's heart if you did.”

#daryl x reader #daryl dixion x reader #the walking dead daryl #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x y/n #daryl twd #twd #daryl x you

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schleiereule-94 · 3 months

Text

Pool party

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!Reader, omc x f!Reader

Author's note: PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS, this one is really dark! This is not for everyone, so please DO NOT ENGAGE if you are triggered by non-con content! This is fiction and reading or writing dark fics does not mean that I (or you) condone this type of behaviour. SA is a terrible crime and if you or someone you know has suffered this please make sure you get the help you need. That said, the ones who enjoy such content, I hope you like the story.

Warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT!

SMUT MINORS DNI, NON-CON, porn with enough plot, penetrative sex, unprotected p in v, manipulation, coercion, reader is chained (non-con), overstimulation, choking/breath play, degradation, cursing, rough sex, oral sex (m receiving), kinda weird Stockholm syndrome, very dark Joel, perv Joel, voyeurism, power imbalance (Joel has a gun), age gap (unspecified, but reader is an adult), Joel slaps you in the face once, Joel is playing sick games you should not be enjoying

Summary: You never really intended to seduce Jesse, you just wanted to have some fun playing around with him. After a night out you end up in your neighbours pool. When said neighbour, Mr. Miller, finds you there he decides to get Jesse what he craves so badly. In the end he really likes to watch and he can have you afterwards.

PS: Yes I will go to hell for this.

The cool water hugs your hips as you lean back onto the pool deck and look up to the moon. You smile. You are having a great time. Jesse surfaces next to you and shakes the water out of his curls. He looks at your profile, eyes trailing down to your breasts quickly, before he shily glances up at your face with puppy eyes. Your smile turned into a smirk.

You had this guy completely under your spell, and it had been so easy! A wave and a wink from your garden when he drove past on his bike, a few glances of your cleavage, a short skirt riding up when bending over to water the plants and he melted like butter in the sun. You knew he’s had a crush on you since high school, so that probably helped. Back then you had never wanted anything from him, even though you had noticed his longing glances following you and your girlfriends down the school hallway some days. You were a good girl then and while he took up work you went to university and away from your hometown after you were both done with school. You hadn’t thought about him not even once, not until you came back here two weeks ago after finishing your studies. You had a few months to spend in your southern childhood village before you would move yet to another city for your new job, and while you loved the hot summer weather and spending some time with your parents, it was also a bit boring. You reconnected with some old girlfriends and went to the local bar the first week, but both were in relationships, one pregnant and the other with a one year old toddler, and they didn’t really have time for you. You missed the busy city much faster than you thought you would. Maybe also the anonymity it provided, so you could go on your little adventures… Honestly, it was very boring here and there was a clear lack of interesting men. So, when you saw Jesse riding by you just wanted to have some fun.

Not that you planned to seduce him really, he was just so easy to fluster, and you had to admit it was an amusing game, keeping him waiting and dreaming about you. Did that make you a bad person? Hmm maybe a bit. But the temptation was just too great, who could blame you? You didn’t dislike Jesse. He really tried to be nice. He was very timid, had always been. Better with his hands than his words. Cute, but a bit boring. Just like your hometown. Apparently not much had changed in the few years you had been away. He was still a quiet, polite fellow, working as an electrician. Tall, slim figure. Cute brown curls. And longing puppy eyes.

You had asked him for a coffee catch-up, where he appeared in his nicest shirt and with flowers, obviously wildly misinterpreting the situation. But you didn’t say anything. You didn’t promise him anything either. You had a nice if uneventful afternoon. He suggested lunch the next day, which you accepted as you had nothing better to do. He had hung at your lips the whole time and looked quite disappointed when you started chatting to and finally invited the couple at the next table to join you, who you realized were old friends from your basketball team.

Out of pity, you asked if you could take him to the pub two days later, to make up for it. After a few drinks you felt like dancing, but he resisted, too shy to follow you on the small dancefloor, even though his eyes were clearly fascinated by your skin-tight outfit that you might have chosen just to drive him crazy. You moved towards him, put your hands on his knees to convince him to stand up. His gaze got caught in your cleavage, but he shook his head. “Let’s get out of here”. You shrugged, a bit unnerved, but followed him out. He’s walk was funny and you realized he was trying to hide a boner. Oh my, he must be so desperate you thought to yourself, hiding a laugh.

You could have been honest and tell him not to put his hopes up, but you had too much fun riling him up. Mostly because it was just so easy. Stepping out of the pub you took his arm, pressing your boobs into his side and smiling up at him. “Where are we going now?” You had walked to the pub, no need for a car in this town. It was shortly after midnight, but the heat of the day still hung heavyly over the streets. You stepped out of your pumps to walk barefoot down the empty road, leaving the pub lights behind you. “We could go to mine” Jesse suggested hopefully. Nah, not happening you thought. But you didn’t want to go home just yet either. Looking down the road ahead you got an idea. “Hey, let’s do something crazy” You looked up into Jesse’s wary face. “What about we go swimming?” you suggested pointing at the house ahead, the one just before your own home on the street.

Your neighbour, Joel Miller, had a big pool you always had been jealous of. He let you use it as a child when you were playing with his daughter, Sarah, a few years your minor. But Sarah had headed off to university as well by now. You had greeted her father just yesterday when he was passing by your garden with his truck. He had barley acknowledged you, only sparing you a short nod.

You remember liking him, even developing a crush on him during your teenage years. He was good looking, strong arms, tanned and bulky from his work as a builder. You used to spy on him through a hole in the hedge when he was doing works on the house or in his garden. For years you had wanted to get into his pants, but didn’t know how to approach him. He never looked at you, never really saw you. So you had to make due with some photos you took secretly from your hideout in the hedge. In your favourite you captured Joel showing off his abs when wiping sweat from his forehead using the hem of his shirt. He always seemed mysterious to you, in a fucked up, dangerous way. Like fire that you tried to catch even though you knew it would burn you badly. You looked at the photos, touching yourself, imagining his big calloused fingers in you as you came with his name on your lips.

But by all your fascination for him, he was also old, grumpy and choleric. Sometimes you overheard him shouting at Sarah or some people on the phone. When he was angry, he was like a bear gone wild: loud, destructive, violent. He was terrifying and normally you would not risk provoking his rage for any reason. But today, after a few drinks and being bored out of your mind, you were ready to take the risk of facing him, just to make Jesse a bit more uncomfortable. Also, you figured, at this time the old man probably laid in bed already. All the lights were off in the house as far as you could see.

Jesse looked undecided. “Have you asked Mr. Miller if it’s ok to use his pool?” “Of course not, silly. He doesn’t have to know. Look all the lights are out. Come on, it will be fun! Are you not hot?” Jesse looked at you as you fanned yourself some air into the face with your hands, and you could almost hear his thoughts. Getting you into the pool meant you would be taking some clothes off… “But what if he catches us? He doesn’t seem to be a very nice person.” He still looked a bit concerned. “Ah come on, he will not notice! We just need to be a little quiet. Don’t be a coward”. You had stopped at the hedge of Mr. Millers garden and glanced around the corner. No lights, no sign of Joel either. To get to the pool you would have to sneak around the house. You grinned at Jesse and started to walk along the shadow of the tall hedge surrounding the property. Jesse sighed but followed you, head crouched down.

On the other side of the house the pool lay still under the pale moon light. Two sunchairs were set up on the wooden deck, and all was safely surrounded by the thick hedge. Nobody would see or hear you from the street. Perfect. You stepped onto the planks and held your toe into the water. Heavenly. You beckoned to Jesse and turned your back towards him holding your hair up. You heard him gulp before he started undoing the zipper of your dress with shaky hands, from your neck all the way down to your lower back. You rolled your eyes at his obvious nerves. Has he never seen a woman naked before? You wrung yourself out of the dress and let it fall onto the floor. You wore a matching set of almost transparent black lingerie. Gracefully you stepped onto the edge of the pool, sat down and slowly lowered yourself into the water. You sighed when the coolness touched your skin. You had been sweating so much in the pub, and this was just perfect. You turned around and let your hair sink into the water, creating a perfect crown around your face. Jesse was still standing on the deck looking at you with wide eyes, as if you were a ghost. “Come on in. It’s heavenly” you said, your voice hushed, while crossing the pool in two short strokes.

And here you were now. Jesse hastily got rid of his shirt and pants, almost falling into the water, still trying to hide his erection. Poor guy must have had half his blood in his dick for most of the evening now. You chuckled and finally looked at him as he settled next to you.

“When was the last time you fucked at girl?” you ask him in the sweetest voice you could muster. “Eh I.. excuse me, what?” Jesse’s head goes from almost pale to red in under 3 seconds. “When have you last had a good fuck? You know, sex? Getting laid?”, you enquire without mercy. Jesse looks like he wants to drown himself. “Why are you asking this?” “Dude, you’ve been sporting a huge hard on basically the whole night and I have not even touched as much as your shoulders” you laugh. He looks away from you. “S’not how you think.” “Is it not?” You cocked your brows up. He takes a deep breath, and his puppy eyes are back on when he faces you again. “I just, I think, you…” another deep breath. “You are really beautiful.” It’s quiet between you for a short 2 seconds. Then you can’t hold back any longer. You snort from loud laughter. “Be quiet” Jesse nervously glances over to the house. His face looks pained when you see him clearly again through your tears of laughter. You feel a slight jolt of guilt but ignore it quickly. You take his hand. “I’m sorry Jesse. But, you are just not my type.” you say in a calmer voice, trying to bite back the grin. “But then why go out with me?” He sounds hurt and takes his hand away from under yours. You shrug. “Just having some fun. S’that not allowed nowadays?” “You are cruel” he says bitterly, pushing himself off the side into the water. “I’m out of here.” “Oh come on Jesse, grow up.” You go after him and catch him just when he tries to climb out onto the deck. You wrap your arms around his hip to pull him back down into the water. He turns around and you cage him against the poolside. He tries to push you away, but you are stronger holding onto the edge of the deck. “I’m done with your games.” He whines. You brush your legs against him and smile into his face. You lean in towards his ear. “Come on, we both know that you cannot resist me”. He blankly stares into your face as you reach down under water to grab the bulge in his boxers. “See?” You squeeze him lightly and he starts panting. You lean in as if for a kiss, but when he closes his eyes you make an escape by heaving yourself up onto the deck. Two fresh towels are spread over the sunchairs, and you quickly grab one to wrap yourself up. Jesse calls your name. You turn around with a wicked smile. He looks wrecked, pleading. You shake your head no, not happening. Jesse looks like he is going to protest but the words die in his throat as he looks at something over your shoulders.

You turn your head and the blood in your veins freezes: Mr Miller stands behind you dressed in a bathrobe, anger radiating from his stern face. A cigarette hangs in the corner of his mouth and in his right hand he holds a pistol pointed at your head.

“Hi Mr Miller” you squeak while the older man slowly advances towards you, eyeing you up and down. “It’s me, your David’s daughter” you try to smile at him and extend your hand, hoping he would put away the gun. “Mhh” he grunts, taking the cigarette out of his mouth and ignoring your peace offering. “I can see that. And who is that?” He gestures to the pool with his head. “Just a friend.” you respond. “And what exactly are you doing here in MY garden, in MY pool?” His voice is low, dangerous and piercing, his eyes ice cold. You try to control your breathing. “Nothing, sorry sir, we just came to cool down after dancing. I should have asked, so sorry” you mumble quickly. You do not like Joel’s gaze on you. Even though you are still covered in a towel, his towel, you feel his eyes burning holes in it. “We’ll leave instantly, so sorry to bother, I’ll bring a cake later tomorrow, ok?” You try to remedy the situation, while Jesse seems to have lost both his voice and ability to move. Joel looks at him. “Out of the water.” he orders. Jesse doesn’t move. You scream a silent come on man! at him with your eyes. But he just squirms. “I… I can’t…”

“What are you talking about boy, get your dirty ass out of my pool right fucking now”. Joel is getting louder, and Jesse understands he has no choice. He climbs onto the deck, not looking into either yours or Joel’s face. Immediately the source of his embarrassment becomes very clear: He still sports a hard-on. You smirk with your head down. God you might be a bitch, but this is just too funny. Joel looks at him.

“So that’s why you are really here”, he muses. “Trying to get a quiet place to fuck.” Both of you shake your head fervently. “No Mr. …” Joel steps in front of you, looming. “So then why is your friend’s dick up n’ready if not to fuck you, hm?” He looks at your frowning face, then looks back to Jesse. He reads the truth from both your faces. “Oh I see. So you” he points his gun at you “don’t want to fuck him”, he concludes and steps to face Jesse. “But you want to fuck her. Pretty badly. Am I right?”. He places the pistol under Jesse's chin, tilting his face upward. “Answer me.”

“Yes sir” he whispers.

“Yes what? Why are you here again?”

“I am here because I want to fuck her” Jesse looks like he is going to cry. Joel takes a step back from him. “That wasn’t so hard was it. So, then what happened? She left you in there with blue balls?” Jesse nods, looking at his toes with a red embarrassed face. He is so pathetic is all you can think.

Joel’s attention returns to you. He points his gun at you once more and your pulse hitches, even though you are quite sure he would not use it, right? His face is unreadable, less angry now, but still dark and unfriendly. You fear you can’t charm yourself out of this situation. “Hands up” he barks at you. Stunned you take a second to register the command. Joel waves his pistol upwards impatiently. You raise your right hand while keeping your left clasped in the towel, maintaining a modest cover in front of you. “Both hands, up now”. You stare at Joel in disbelieve. What is his point? “Don’t have all night, put your hand up god dammit!” You let go of the towel to lift your hand over your head. It falls on the ground with a thud, leaving your body exposed to Joel’s view. Your underwear is still wet and your nipples harden immediately in the light breeze. You register a dangerous glint in Joel’s eyes as he watches you. Hungry you think. Shit, you are in deep shit here. Fear starts to creep up in your body and settles in your core. What is this lunatic going to do to me?

“Please,” your voice is way too high and weak “please Mr Miller, let us go. We’ll not bother you again, I promise”. He doesn’t react. Just stands there, puffing his cigarette while looking at you as if you were a piece of red meat. “Can see why you want to fuck her” he finally concludes and pulls at his cigarette. “Pretty tits, nice hips. Am I right?” Jesse nods hesitantly. “You know what, I am not one to ruin your night”. Joel gestures to the sunchair. “Lay down”. You don’t move. Your head spins. Your eyes are darting from one corner of the garden to the other, searching for a way out, but to run away you have to get past Joel. And you are not so sure anymore if he would shoot you or not. I always knew this guy was fucked up.

Joel seizes your right wrist and violently pulls you to the sunchair. Pain shoots through your shins as you fall onto it. Joel pushes your shoulders down and your head slams onto the wooden chair frame. “Sit still”. He takes two cable ties out of the pocket on his robe. Why on earth does he have these on him? You stare at him without understanding anything until he slides one over your right hand and the armrest. Before you can react, he tightens it and the plastic cuts into your skin. “No”, you shout, “what are you doing?” “Keep quiet and sit still” His hand comes down onto your face, you hear the slapping sound and your cheek burns. It happens so fast that it succeeds at shutting you up. You stare up at him, frozen and speechless. You don’t dare fighting back as he chains your other hand to the chair as well. Nobody walks around with zip ties in his bathrobe just like this. He must have taken them from his house on purpose. He knew he was going to do this to you. You hear your blood rushing in your ears, everything seems fuzzy. Breath, just breath, you need to get your shit together! You try to calm your heartrate down. You unclench your hands and try to relax, breathing through your nose. “That’s right, be a good girl” Joel’s voice next to your ear sends shivers down your spine. You feel his breath on your cheek. Don’t look at him, just concentrate on yourself. You keep your eyes straight ahead, but you cannot block out Joel’s words as he is now talking to Jesse.

“What’s your name”

“Jesse”

“Ok Jesse, here she is, all ready for you now. She can’t run away anymore.”

Cold metal touches your arm and you jerk away, the ties holding you back and causing pain to shoot up your arms. Joel runs the barrel of his gun up to your shoulders, over your collarbone and under your chin. You open your eyes slowly. He stares at you with an insidious grin.

“Come on, you can touch her now, she won’t bite anymore”.

Jesse stands at your feet, eyes blown out by fear. Joel pulls the second sun chair over to himself, positioning it a meter away from you. He sits down, legs wide apart, still smiling and smoking his cigarette, gun lazily pointed at you from his knee.

You turn over to Jesse. He looks mortified. You shake his head at him. Don’t do it. But he is too afraid of Joel not to obey. He takes a few small steps towards your feet. You bring you knees up, trying to get as far away from him as possible.

“Come on boy, don’t be scared, she won’t do anything to you. She will be a good girl, right sweetie?” Joel sounds like he is enjoying this. Jesse breaths deeply in and out, as to prepare himself to do what he has to do.

You lie there and feel helpless. Your mind has gone blank, there is nothing you can do about anything that is going to happen. As you watch Jesse approach, you start to tremble. His first touch on your knee feels like an electric shock. You look up to his face. It is pale and shows no emotion. Like a zombie. His fingers feel cold on your thigh and his gaze is transfixed on your body. He can’t even look me in the eyes. He pushes your legs to one side so he can sit down next to you on the chair. He looks over you, your hands, your arms, your belly, your chest. Until he finally arrives at your face. His eyes say Forgive me, and you almost pity him, but as he lays down next to you, you feel his hard-on poke into your hip. No, that cannot be true. He cannot be enjoying this. You turn your face to his with wide eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry” he whispers. “No, Jesse, you don’t have to do this.” you whisper back. “Jesse, please, get off me” you whimper, eyes watery and burning. His hand creeps up your body and over your chest. He stops and grabs your breast tightly. You hear his laboured breathing right at your ear and he starts grinding into your thigh. Your mind wants to fight, claw, bite and spit at him, but your body has given up. You are limp, unmoving, tears streaming down your face.

Jesse rolls on top of you, his head still at your neck, kissing you behind the ear. Fucking coward, you scream at him in your mind. But no sound escapes your lips. He humps into your lower body, his hand still kneading your breast. You cannot stand to watch this one more second. You close your eyes, breathing through your mouth to not smell his aftershave. A sound from your left reminds you of Joel’s presence. He sat up in his chair, dark eyes fixed on the pair of you, holding the gun in one hand, while he palms himself with the other under his robe. Fucking pervert. He sees your horrified expression and grins.

No, you are not giving him a show, not for longer than needed. Jesse cannot handle you. If you play along, he will come in under a minute. It will be over fast.

This is the first coherent plan your brain can come up with and it immediately gives you a glimmer of hope. I don’t want this. But it’s Jesse, it could be worse. You turn your head to Jesse’s face. “Hey, please, if we are going to fuck, at least kiss me properly first.” Jesse’s body tenses up as you speak to him in such brute language. But he gives in and raises his face over yours, the hopeful puppy eyes shining through his zombie mask. You do your best to soften your features, even though you cannot manage a smile. “Ok.” You think Jesse is more talking to himself than you. Timidly he closes the distance and presses his lips onto yours. They taste like chlorine from the pool and beer from earlier in the pub. You fight a gag reflex and open your mouth for his tongue. He licks into you and you lift your hips up to press on his. Come on boy, stop holding back. He moans and starts panting into your open mouth.

“Take your pants off” you encourage him. He immediately follows your orders, sitting up on his knees, fumbling with the zipper and finally kicking them off to the side together with his boxers. His white body almost glowed in the moonlight. His member rigid and ready as he leans over you. You want to crawl away, but you all you manage is a few centimetres before the ties hold you in place. He starts dragging your panties, but you stop him. “No, Jesse, just pull them aside. Come on, no time, I want you now” Fuck you Miller, you’re not going watch me naked. Jesse is way too far gone to hear your false tone. With two fingers he pushes aside the black lace. If he had a brain, he would realize I am dry as a desert. Shit, I hope it’s not going to hurt too much. You see Jesse holding his dick to line himself up. At least he is not very big. “Spit on it” you tell him, this time in a sharp and clear voice. Jesse’s head shoots up at your demand. “Please” you add. He spits in his hand and starts lubing himself up. Thank god. You try to relax and brace for his intrusion. You can take it, just imagine it is someone else. Someone you like. Someone hot. You close your eyes as Jesse collapses onto you and starts pushing in, with grunts that remind you of a fat pig. Someone hot, come on now. It was not that easy. Your ex comes to mind, but you never really enjoyed sex with him. Some one-night stands you had were gorgeous, but you couldn’t really remember how they looked. You felt Jesse sliding deeper into you. It burns, but it’s still tolerable. Come on, there has to be someone.

You clench your eyes shut and your mind creates a picture. A picture of a man that was familiar, that you had fantasised about many times before.

No, nonono, not now, not him. You gasp and open your eyes, but close them again fast as you see Jesse face distort as he feels you clench on his dick. The man appears again before your inner eye: Joel Miller, in every detail, as if if he was burnt into your eyelids. You see his stern face, his fuzzy salt-and-pepper hair and beard, now slightly more grey then the last time you imagined him like this. It makes him look more serious. His eyes are cold, but with this hungry look that terrified you so much earlier. His jaw clenched, chin slightly up, he stares at you, condescendingly. You see his broad shoulders and muscular builder arms with visible veins. You always wanted to touch those, grab onto them while he fucks you. Shit, why do you want him so much?

You turn your head sideways, away from Jesse’s moaning to look over to Joel. He has opened up his robe and is clearly stroking himself, getting off at you being claimed and overpowered by another man. His thick thighs are spread wide apart. A sudden jolt of arousal courses though you and you feel how your pussy is getting more damp, with every stroke of Joel’s big hand. Joel grins, he can read your emotions like book. Immediately you turn away. No, I can’t let him have this. He is crazy, a fucking pervert! He is enjoying watching me getting raped! you scolded yourself. But his image had turned you on enough so Jesse fucking you felt a bit better. If he would just touch your clit you could almost enjoy yourself… But no, you wanted this to be over fast.

“Come on Jesse, give it to me, fuck me harder” you hiss between clenched teeth. As he starts pounding you tense all your muscles as much as you can. Jesse feels you tightening and with a stream of ‘Oh god’s he pushes into you two more times before you feel him coming inside you. The sensation of his cum spurting into you and his sweaty hands and body on you immediately takes you back into reality and makes you instantly nauseous. You wriggle under Jesse’s now limp body, trying to throw him off you. You feel like you can’t breath, a lump ties up your throat. Jesse props himself up and looks down at your teary face. And finally, his brain seems to register what he has done. You see panic wash over him and he stumbles to his feet and away from you. He quickly finds his boxers and puts them on while walking away backwards, still looking at you with bulging eyes. “I.. I am so, so.. so sorry” he stammers, until he finally turns around and runs away. You want to scream after him. Coward. Pervert. Rapist. But you are still chained, still trying to stop yourself from vomiting. Still not safe. So, you keep quiet.

You hear Joel getting up and strutting over to you. As he steps over your body you look up at his looming figure. The first thing you register is that he left the gun on the other sunchair. You feel relief, at least he is not going to kill me. But the second thing you see lets you shudder again. He is holding his big, fully erect cock with both hands in front of you. The head is red, engorged and fat, looking almost like a mushroom. Pulsating veins run along the shaft and down to his big heavy balls. He slowly fucks his fists, spreading dripping precum over his whole length. “Tsss, look at the mess the little boy left” he mutters, bending down to have a better look at your face. “And he didn’t even make you cum. Boys nowadays don’t have any manners” His breath smells like cigarette. You stare at him with all the hate you can muster. He laughs. “Don’t look at me like that. You brought this onto yourself, playing games all night with this poor guy. You don’t have any manners either.” He cocks his head sideways. “But tell me, who did you think of when he fucked you? Hm?”

Shitshitshishit, how does he know? Joel stands back up and laughs again. “I remember you staring through the hedge at me when I was doing garden work. You seemed to enjoy the view. Am I not right?” He glares down at you. You stare back defiantly. His expression hardens and he slaps his hard dick in your face. “Answer me!” You try to hold back, but the tears are rolling down your face again. You feel embarrassed and exposed. “Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, sir, I was spying on you.”

“And why did you do that?”

“Because I thought you were hot” Your voice is almost inaudible.

Joel chuckles. “Well baby, today is your happy day where all your dreams come true. Because I am going to fuck some manners into you.”

It feels like your body did not know how to react to these words. You are horrified, scared, appalled. And at the same time, warm arousal stirs in your belly. It makes you cry even more, but Joel does not seem to like that. “Stop crying, I don’t want to look at a baby when I fuck your face.” He had opened up his bathrobe and you look at his toned chest, his belly rising with his breaths, the v lines you always found so sexy pointing down towards his big heavy member. You swallow hard, and once more try to stabilise your breathing. The tears slowly stop falling.

Joel gropes your hair tilting your head back. “Open your mouth”. As soon as your lips part he shoves his dick down your throat. You try to swallow all of him, but as soon as he hits the back you start gagging. He pushes in even more and you can’t breath. You taste the salty and tangy aroma of the mix of his juices and sweat. When he yanks himself out of you, you wheeze and cough. “Fuck, girl you look like a proper whore with your mouth on my dick” He pushes his tip against your lips. “Now suck it”. He goes easier on you this time. But he is so big your lips hurt from stretching around him. And the worst is that his taste is not appalling to you, on the contrary, you want to lick his cock clean and him staring at you while you doing it is turning you on so much. You hate yourself when tingling starts to spread between your legs and you hate yourself even more when a whine escapes you when Joel circles one of your nipples with his fingertips. “Look at this little whore enjoying herself” he coos, freeing your breast from your bra and pinching your nipple hard. You groan from the sudden pain and his cock twitches in your mouth. Sick motherfucker.

He retreats and picks up the towel on the floor. “Let’s make you pretty and clean for daddy to ruin you, shall we”. He sticks two thumbs under your panties to pull them down, but you kick his leg up to stop him. He dodges your knee and slams your leg back down onto the chair. He seizes both your ankles easily despite you resisting. He is way stronger than you. And that should really not turn you on so much. He forces your legs open and kneels down between them. “I said, let’s clean you up” he hisses between gritted teeth. He grabs your panties and rips them in two. Your pussy lays bare in front of him. Your folds glisten from your arousal and Jesse’s cum is gradually dripping out of you. “Such a mess” Joel repeats. He runs his thumb through your folds and it takes all your resolve to not squirm. Fuck, this should not feel good. All about this is wrong. Joel gazes up at your concentrated face and presses down on your clit, hard. “Fucckk” you hiss while jerking your hips up again Joel’s hand. He starts rubbing small circles and you want to scream. It feels so good. He gets faster and a hot coil forms in your belly. No, don’t come, don’t give him this. But you are helpless. The coil snaps and your body convulses as you inadvertently moan, from pleasure and embarrassment at once.

Joel watches as your pussy clenches down on nothing and a gush of cum flows out. He takes the towel, wraps it around his hand, pushes it into you with two fingers and starts to turn it around. The fabric is rough and raspy, and it feels like the outer layers of your walls are ground off. Your moan turns into a yelp. Joel keeps going until every drop of wetness that was in you is soaked up in the towel. He then yanks it out, lays it on you and rubs over your clit. You try to turn your body away, but his other hand is firm on your hip, you cannot move. Your insides feel as if you were internally skinned and the coarse material on your sensitive spot is too much. You cry out, but he doesn’t stop. He leans over you to reach your mouth and covers it with his hand to keep you quiet while his other hand rubs your clit through the towel. Your while body tenses up from the overstimulation and more tears fill your eyes as you try to scream against Joels hand. Your chest lifts from the chair, as he keeps dragging the fabric over your clit. Every nerve in your body firest and the world reduces to the painful red pleasure pulsating from the sweet spot between your legs.

The second orgasm hits you like a lightning. You bite into Joel’s palm, pain shoots through your wrist where the cable binders hold you against the sunchair as you pull on them. Violent spasms run in waves through your abdomen and you feel how a stream of juices shoots out of you and onto Joel’s towel covered palm on your mound.

As you come down from your high your body goes limp, exhausted. Joel inspects the bite marks you left on his palm with intrigue, but his hands are covered thick skin from manual work and you did not draw a even one drop of blood. Then he lifts the ruined towel to his nose and inhales deeply while starting to fist his dick again. “Shit, baby, your squirting almost made me come on your tits.” When he looks back down on you his eyes had gone completely black. “I will fuck you now. And you will enjoy it, you hear me?” You nod and quickly add “Yes, sir”. He takes your wobbly legs and throws them on his shoulders, lifts your hips up and positions his hands to get a good grip. He lines himself up and pushes into you in one strong thrust. You hold onto the armrests you are tied to and your eyes roll into the back of your head as you are parted in two. He bottoms out with a groan, his balls slap onto your ass, and you try to remember how to breath.

“Fuck, baby, so tight” you hear Joel mutter as he retracts and slams back into you with full force. You wince, not able to muster any strength to hold yourself together anymore. You enter a trance-like state where you feel your body being rocked back and forth as if in slow motion, see how Joel’s head falls back, feel his fingers dig deep into the flesh of your hips. You see him fucking you from above, see the sweat running down his temples, and into his beard. You hear your bodies connect with wet slaps sounding like thunder as he enters you again and again.

With a guttural grunt he pulls out and lets you fall back into the chair. Your consciousness returns into your body as he mounts you, pressing your legs down at your side to fold you in two like a jack knife. His face is now just millimetres from yours, you can feel his breath on your hot skin. “I know you want this” he breathes. You slowly shake your head, but he stops by digging three fingers painfully into your jaw. “You want me, and when I’m finished you go home, you go to bed and touch yourself thinking about me.” You nod very slowly.

“Good girl. Now take my cock I want to come into your dirty pussy.” He grabs one of your breast and sucks hard on your nipple as he smashes himself back into you. The angle is so deep you can feel him in your gut. As he starts fucking into you, he hits the back of your cervix which makes you cry out loud. It both hurts and electrifies you. You pant, mouth agape, your pussy feels sore and wounded. Joel grunts, one of his hands wanders over your breast to your collarbone and closes around your throat. He holds you in place, slamming his cock into you directly hitting that perfect spot at the back of your cunt. You try to breath, but can only gasp. Your vision gradually goes dark as the lack of oxygen grows, your body arches up, all your muscles strung to breaking point. As another hard stroke hits your cervix, stars explode in front of your eyes and you clench down on Joel repeatedly, milking his dick. He groans forcefully and hot cum fills you once again, spilling over and dripping out, Joel’s cock pulsating rhythmically. He releases his chokehold on your neck and you desperately gasp for air while laying back down against the chair, muscle spasms running through your belly and legs. You close your eyes, feeling fuzzy in the head and exhausted like never before in your life.

You don’t realize when Joel gets up and undoes the zip ties binding you onto the chair. Your arms fall down to the floor devoid of any strength. He covers you with the clean towel before walking off and enters his house.

You wake up a few hours later, cold and clammy, the garden and pool laying in complete darkness. You sit up and clutch the towel against your chest, fear running through every nerve in your body. But you see and hear nothing and nobody. Your heart rate normalises and very carefully you put your feet down one side of the sunchair onto the wooden deck. You look at your wrists. Deep red marks show where you had been chained just a few hours ago. You feel the panic again rising in your chest. I need to get out of here. Bent over and the towel pressed tightly to your chest you run towards the hedge. If you remember correctly there is a small hole where you can squeeze through to the back of your house. Yes, here it is. Half naked as you are the branches of the bushes leave scratches on your arms and back, but you don’t care. You hurriedly look for the extra key under the doormat of you back entrance and after some fumbling due to your shaky hands you manage to open the door. As quietly as possible you make your way upstairs to your room and close and latch the door behind you. Your mother doesn’t like you locking yourself into your room, but tonight you need the security. You fall onto your bed, pressing your face into your pillow, breathing the familiar scent and after many long deep breaths you slowly, very slowly, start feeling your body again.

First you feel the cuts from the hedge, then your wrists start to hurt. And finally, you feel the wet stickiness between your legs. Your body starts to tremble as everything that happened, with Jesse and then Joel plays out again in your head. You cry, the pillow muting your sounds. You cry until you have no tears left in you.

After the panic and dread had settled down you sit up and start cleaning your folds with your bedsheets. As you do that your view is drawn outside the window in front of you, to the pool in your neighbour’s garden. Joel stands there in his bathrobe, looking up at your room, your dress in your hand. You freeze and feel how your hand automatically starts massaging your clit. Joel’s voice echoes in your head “When I’m finished you go home, you go to bed and touch yourself thinking about me.” Lust pierces through you like fire. Fuck.

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violetmina · 1 year

Text

Chokehold - Ch. 1

Chokehold Masterlist

Tagging @roundroald, since they asked so nicely.

Pairing: Billy Butcher x Fem!Reader

Word count: 3,574

Summary: After stumbling your way into the boys crew, you quickly realize you're a little out of your depth when it comes to protecting yourself. You thought you could be sly and take some self-defense classes without telling the others. But Butcher has a nose for secrets and demands to take over your lessons. Learning a bit of jiu jitsu from one Billy Butcher can't be that terrible...can it?

Warning: Mentions of injuries and The Boys level of violence, swearing, slight implication of domestic violence. Smut to come in future chapters.

A/N: This was originally supposed to be a one shot, but my brain kept adding to it. Just this part alone took longer for me to write than I wanted, so this may be slow going. But it is in motion! Takes place in some vague space between end of S2 and early half of S3. This is the first fic I've shared in years, first attempt at writing Butcher, and my very first fic in 'x reader' format. It's not the most creative title but it's what my brain can manage right now. I'm open to constructive criticism, but please be kind. I hope you guys enjoy!

Sometimes, you questioned your decision-making skills. If the last few months were any indication, it was a skill you didn't have, period. After all, who goes from a normal, anonymous life to joining your old friend Hughie and his weird, motley gang of former vigilantes? Originally, you had only joined Neuman's team as a project to fill holes in your resume and to reconnect with Hughie. You'd heard he had gone AWOL after Robin's untimely death, but what a shock it'd been when you finally met for coffee and caught up on his new life. Maybe it'd been that sense of shock and awe over his stories, or maybe your innate slight distrust of supes and Vought that he had once teased you about in your younger years. But you'd been curious. And that adorable puppy dog look he gave you when he asked for a little help on one of his group's missions hadn't hurt either.

It was supposed to be a little favor, a one-time thing for an old pal. But then you'd met the boys, this rag-tag lot he was with now, and for all their dysfunctionality, you'd been oddly charmed by them. You'd been swayed by their mission, to finally hold those super-roided celebrities accountable, and the adrenaline of an unexpected car chase during your favor must've jolted something loose in your brain. Pushing flyers and setting up calls in Neuman's call-center wasn't nearly enough after that. You wanted to be part of the growth that had altered Hughie so much. To watch the quirky banter of MM and Frenchie, to get to know the woman Kimiko was, and give her the friend she'd been denied growing up.

And then there was Butcher.

You would have been a liar if you had said that you didn't have mixed impressions about him in the beginning. To say you found him attractive would have been an understatement, though you'd be damned if you'd ever let anyone know that. While his brusque sarcasm and biting temper had been slightly off-putting, it was his smarmy charm, flashes of quicksilver intelligence, and that indomitable will that kept you from walking away altogether. Ever since you had joined the crew, you had given up counting the number of times he irritated the shit out of you. And the number of times you'd caught yourself a little too drawn to Butcher in those briefest glimpses of a softie in him. Like when you'd fallen asleep in the flatiron office and woke with that battered coat draped over you. Or he'd given you the last of his food with a grumble when your stomach protested loudly at you for working too long on a lead.

Hughie had always said that your favorite color was "red-on-a-flagpole". And for your sanity, you'd deny as stubbornly as the day was long that you liked the bastard.

But the new eventually wears off, and the deeper you dove into their world, the darker the waters became. You learned quickly that adrenaline wasn't just a fun little rush in this life - it was a necessity. A lifeline when dealing with supes and their equally narcissistic associates. You learned the hard way how easily you could drown…

Now, leaning against the cool wall of the elevator as it rose to the flatiron office, you were certain your decision-making skills were poor. Well-intentioned but poor. You wiggled the fingers of your right hand slowly, wincing at the jolts it sent in your arm. Trying to bend it per usual sent pain in either direction out from your elbow. It was far from broken but it wasn't comfortable either.

"Damn," you cursed under your breath. This was going to be a lot harder to hide than your previous injuries. If your assumptions were correct though, the others had long left the office and were out about minding their own little businesses. Hughie with Annie, MM had his daughter for the night, Frenchie and Kimiko out for whatever little pleasantry that would make her smile for a while, and Butcher…Well, probably still sniffing out a lead on a supe, tirelessly plotting.

When the elevator announced its arrival, you shrugged the bag on your left shoulder back up from a slouch and stepped out. You would touch up on some paperwork you had left behind earlier to "run your errands", then head back to your place. The evening plans consisted of a hot shower, some leftovers for dinner, and tossing the items in your bag into the laundry. If you were lucky, you would get a full five hours sleep before rolling out of bed again for another long day of supe hunting. Or convincing Hughie and Victoria to let you back out in the field again after your mishap a while back.

A couple of the desk lamps had been left on in the office space, and some of the city backdrop bounced rays off the walls, but it was still a little dim for your liking. You switched your own desk lamp on, perusing over the files of most recent cases now cast in the amber glow. So much damn paperwork.

"Who winged ya, little birdy?"

You manage to only slightly jump at the voice just in front of you. Instead of out plotting, Butcher sat at the desk on the other side of yours, arms crossed and an inquisitive curl at his lip. His eyes, however, screamed interrogation. How had you not seen him in that audacious Hawaiian shirt, even in the dark?

"Christ, Butcher," you groaned. "You normally just sit in the dark like that? You could have given me a heart attack."

"Like we'd be rid of you so easily," he chuffed, rising from his seat. "Now don't avoid the question. It'd be terribly rude if you did that, wouldn't it?"

"I'm not sure what you're talking about." You shrugged, feigning ignorance. You had a strong feeling he wasn't buying it. "I'm good."

"Oh? Really?" He quirked a brow at you as he picked up one of the files from your desk. "Just here for a little light reading then. Don't let me keep you waiting." He held it out to you with a nod. You slid the bag off your shoulder onto the floor and reached with your left hand. He snatched it back just out of reach, then extended it to your right hand with a pointed look.

You tried to play along, even managed to lift your arm without a wince. But the shock in your elbow made your reach noticeably slower, and the twitch in your fingers brought that all too familiar smirk to his face. You sighed in defeat, dropping the file back on the desk. "It's nothing," you muttered.

"And the bruises on your legs? Or the ones on your arms? Those all nothing?" When you blinked at him in surprise he continued, "C'mon, Y/N. Hughie sees you everyday at Neuman's and he ain't blind. Even if he was, you've walked into this place stiff as arthritis for a while. So…" Butcher's smirk faded as he took a step forward, just enough to fill your space. "...Who did it? There a heavy-handed Romeo you ain't told us about?"

"What? No! Butcher, it's not like that," you sputtered, nearly laughing at the idea of him hunting down said imaginary Romeo. But the look on his face killed whatever humor you had. "I'm either working at this office with all of you, or I'm at the other one with Hughie. Like I have time for anything else."

"But for weeks now you got time to run supposed errands and slink back here long after hours? Conveniently when everybody would be gone?" Before you could blink he yanked your bag off the floor. "You gonna tell me this ain't an overnight bag? That you're not avoiding your place?"

"No, it's not. I don't have a - HEY!" He ignored your protest as he quickly unzipped the bag and dove a hand in to pull out some of the contents. Butcher's face quickly shifted from a scowl to confusion when he pulled out not regular clothes or toiletries, but a thick white belt with a black tail. Pulling it open further, a white gi stared at you both. He wagged the black tail of the belt at you.

"You gonna tell me the fuck this is about? Karate, really?"

"It's not karate. It's jiu jitsu," you replied, trying not to grit your teeth at how he rolled his eyes. "Now can I have my stuff back, or are you suddenly into my sweaty clothes?"

"What you doing this for?" He tossed the bag to you and you glared in response. "You gonna grapple those bloody files into writing themselves, eh? Maybe turn Hughie into a pretzel for a laugh at the bureau?," he leers.

"I'm trying to get out of here!," you snapped, surprised at how loud your voice echoed back. You took a deep breath before gingerly shoving your stuff back into your bag. "I'm trying to get out of both offices. I want back out there. Out in the field with you and the rest of the boys. I'm cooped up here but Hughie won't even think of talking Neuman into assigning me to an operation. Not since…" You stopped, swallowing back frustration.

"Since that cunt got the drop on you and took you hostage," Butcher finished flatly.

As he nodded in realization you knew he was remembering it as much as you. You'd ignored Hughie's orders and went in as backup when bringing in a supe and their accomplice on human trafficking allegations. It had gone sour and you had tried to sneak into the warehouse to help. Instead of saving them, the accomplice had snuck up on you, nearly resulting in a trade off for the arrested supe. You had been so sure you could handle your own, save the day. The only thing that had saved the day was Butcher dropping from a balcony onto you both…and promptly emptying several rounds into your captor's screaming mouth. Sometimes you wondered if there was still one of their teeth hiding in your hair.

"So what?," he asked, tearing you from the memory. "You thought a few hours at a gym and you'd just skip back out there?"

"You know Hughie will never let me on another operation unless I can prove that I can handle myself."

"Little shit would wrap your ass in bubble wrap if he knew he could get away with it, and roll you out the door from it all!," he snapped. "For starters, what the hell is jiu jitsu - or any self-defense combat form - gonna do you when a supe get their hands on you? Like A-Train? Black Noir? Or that star-spangled cunt?"

"Like we're even close to going after any of the Seven right now! We're stuck with B, C, and D list assholes and you know it! And how would it be any different than the rest of you with all your training?"

"Which brings me to my other point, " he cuts you off. "The lot of us are knee deep in experience, at least. Military, terrorism, gang shit. We all have gotten our hands bloody. We're killers, love. Even Hughie, or did you forget? So why the fuck would you stroll into a dojo that's probably sponsored by Vought anyway, instead of coming to one of us, eh?"

You scoffed, couldn't help it. "Right. I'm supposed to just assume that Mr. Billy Badass is gonna have the will or time of day to teach me self-defense?"

"Now that hurt me feelings, " Butcher replied, holding a mocking hand over his heart. "Oh ye of little faith. I suppose whatever bloke you rolled with tonight is far safer than yours truly. Oh wait." Here he glanced at your arm with a jeer and a nod. "Lemme guess - sparred with someone who likes it a little rough?"

You rolled your eyes. "My rolling partner was fine," you grumbled before admitting, "I did it to myself. He…He caught me in an armbar and I thought I'd try toughing it out a little longer before I'd tap."

He made a tsking noise of disapproval. "Stupid, wasn't it? Is he white belt or color belt?"

"White, four stripes. I think he tests for blue soon."

"Then you're fucking lucky. There's a reason they say spazzy ass white belts cause the most injuries. If you ignore your limits in a safe, cozy class setting, why the fuck would any bad guy out there hesitate on your behalf?" He steps forward to lift your bad arm up, not too fast but it still smarts.

"Straighten your arm all the way out. Slow." You try to do so but hiss in pain just shy of the mark, leaving your forearm at a slight angle. "You'll live. Strained, maybe a slight sprain, that's all." He shuffles past you to the mini-fridge tucked in the corner and tosses you a half empty bag of pizza rolls. You almost laugh at the impromptu ice bag and apply it to the protesting joint.

"You're not going back," he says, as if commenting on the weather. And before you can say anything he's herding you across the room to the couch by the TV. "Keep that on for about fifteen minutes and we'll get started right after." He gives an unceremonious push and you plop onto the cushions with a huff.

"I'm sorry, wha-? Butcher, I'm not quitting! I need to-!"

"I didn't say quit," he answered over his shoulder with a slight grunt as he begins shifting a couple of the desks outwards. "What I said was you're not going back to that bleeding dojo. But knowing your stubborn, annoying ass-" He shifts the coffee table past the TV. "-you're just gonna find another bastard ready to take your money and give you a false sense of security. You really wanna roll that bad..?" He slides the rug out far enough to his liking before sitting back on his heels with a little nod. Then looks up at you with that trademark, crooked smirk.

"You're rolling with me now, love."

You blink at him, your stomach doing a little flip at his words. Sure, when you started jiu jitsu it had been a bit uncomfortable having strangers literally on top of you. In your face, up in your little bubble. After awhile though, you adjusted and you had actually started looking forward to class. But the implication of what Butcher had just said, realizing that he was going to be the one up in your personal space, shifting and heavy and pinning -

You immediately cut off that line of thought. "I-I-I've already rolled. And I don't wanna make my arm worse."

"You're right. You've caught me in a rather generous mood. We're not rolling together now. But you…" He moved and stood over you with a grin. "You're going to drill tonight. Nothing that requires your arm and I'll see exactly what I'm working with. From here on out, I'll be the one to train you, teach you the kinda shit you can actually use when shit goes sideways. If I'm lucky, as short a time you've been training, I won't have to do too much de-programming of whatever the fuck they taught you."

"Butcher-" You go to stand but when you reach your feet he gives you a look that almost has you wobble back on your heels.

"I ain't asking. It's me or nothing." It comes out as a low rumble that will not be questioned. "Do you want back out there or not?"

It's immediately clear that this situation isn't going to be backtracked now. The cat was out of the bag and you had to choose. Spend your days in mind-numbing paper stacks, shoved off on the sidelines but relatively safe. Or try to mold yourself into something more self-reliant and capable…by putting yourself at the mercy of one Billy Butcher.

There's a heavy beat, as he still stares at you, unblinking. Then finally you nod. "Teach me."

The heavy, steely look finally slides off his face. "Good choice. Now come over here." He waves at the open floor space he's created and uses the other hand to steer you into it. "Sit your ass down here and pay attention. It's a simple mobility drill. I'll show you only once. I'm not here to do fucking jazzercise. You'll start once we're done icing your arm."

Butcher settles down to sit straight legged on the hardwood floor, a heavy hand on your good shoulder bringing you with him. You barely manage to not fall on your ass and mimic his stance. "Make a figure four." He pulls in his left leg so his foot is next to his right knee and you do the same. "We'll change your arm position later but tonight you're gonna cradle that wing of yours to your chest. Point is to not use your arms to get up, but your hips. Shift your ass forward." He crosses his arms and moves up into a kneeling position, left shin and knee posted under him, right foot flat in front, his knee just past a 90-degree angle. "See?"

You mimic him again, cradling your elbow like he said and stop once up off the floor. A small pat - almost a swat - on your back startles you, and at your look of confusion he says, "Up straight, don't roll your back. If your back ain't straight, you're not using your hips." When you straighten up he settles the same hand into the small of your back and slowly pushes you forward. "And that's about as far as you should be putting yourself on that front foot. Combat stance. If I tell you to hold that position, you hold it till I say so. Got it?"

You nod. Seemingly satisfied, he continues. "Alright. Now go in reverse back the way you started." He rewinds, sitting back, straightens his legs and you follow suit. It dawns on you as you do so that moving on bare, hardwood floors is nothing like moving on the padded mats in class.

"Then switch legs and do the same thing." This time he doesn't move, just watches you slowly follow his instruction. You mind your posture this time, pause for a second and glance at him before reversing back to sitting on the floor again.

Butcher stands, taking the bag of pizza rolls out of the cradle of your elbow as he does. "When I tell you to do combat hip drill, this is what you're doing. Understand?" You give another nod and he walks to the mini-fridge to shove the bag back into the freezer. When you shift to stand up he shakes his head. "Nuh uh. You start now. Go."

He moves past you, back to the couch behind you as you start to go through the motions of the mobility drill. "Pick up your pace, move," he says as he sinks down onto the cushions. You pause at the top of the move to look back at him with a bit of a scowl.

"How many am I supposed to do?," you ask, already noting the protest in your tailbone, knees and shins from the contact on the floor.

"Till I tell you to stop," he grins, stretching his arms out across the back of the couch. "And I didn't say that yet, now did I? Chop, chop!"

You glared at his too-happy grin before rolling your eyes and continuing the drill. Back down, switch legs, up. Back down, switch legs, up. Once or twice he has you pause, hold the pose. But the drill continues. Back down, switch legs, up. After only a few short minutes, feeling his eyes on you the whole time, you begin to notice that you're already feeling some fatigue. Clearly, you hadn't fully recovered from class earlier. You feel a little embarrassed that you're already starting to huff. And you can't help but wonder just what the hell did you sign up for?

After another moment or two, you sit up once again, not quite as forward, not as high. You start to sag back down when there's a sudden pressure just between the small of your back and your tailbone, almost throwing you forward and off balance. You totter over the forward knee for a brief second before restabilizing and whirling round with wide eyes. Surely he did not-!

Oh but he did. Butcher's boot is at your belt line, keeping you posted up. "Hold. When you start again, you keep the pace and move all the way through. You better not half-ass or slouch again. Otherwise…" He taps his toes on your lower back and smirks.

For a brief moment you consider grabbing that damn boot and giving it a good, friendly twist. But the ache in your elbow, and the look in his eye that says he's pretty much read your mind, tells you it's a no-go. You dampen down the urge and he pulls it back as you face forward and hold the up position. A few moments pass before he finally tells you to resume the drill. It's in that moment you know you have your answer.

Hell. You're pretty sure you just signed up for hell.

#billy butcher #billy butcher x reader #the boys fanfic

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cheesybadgers · 2 months

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Narcos Fic: Old Habits Die Hard (Chap. 23)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 24

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Masterlist

Pairing: Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo

Words: 12,675

Summary: It’s been more than a year since Madrid and even longer since the chaos of Colombia. As they settle into a new life in Laredo, their past no longer holding them back, Javier’s career change helps him reconnect with his roots whilst Horacio’s plans for the future of the farm and ranch start to take shape.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Smut (including leather/cowboy kink and power dynamics), grief, parental loss, religious themes and symbolism, discussions of period-typical prejudices/violence/politics/legislation, smoking, drinking, swearing.

Notes: Well, here we are at the final full chapter 👀 No one is more shocked than me that I've made it here tbh 😂 For so long, it felt like finishing this fic was an abstract concept, but somehow, I persevered!

I don't really know what else to say right now, other than, an epilogue will (all being well) be posted on Friday 1st March...exactly 3 years after I posted chapter 1. Don't ask me how 3 years have passed, because my brain cannot compute lol.

The epilogue will be much, much shorter than this chapter, but I think it rounds their story off nicely and I can't wait to share ❤️

Thank you once again to anyone still reading, or anyone who may read this at some point in the future. As always, comments/flailings/key smashes etc. are greatly appreciated 😊

I’ve also added to my OHDH trivia post to cover this chapter if anyone is interested (and there's plenty to choose from for this one…in fact, I had to split my trivia post into two as I ran out of space, oops lol).

Chapter 23: Desde La Frontera

As the faded blue truck pulled up in the front yard, the moon sat full and high, casting a pale glow over everything beneath it. A key turned in the lock of the sleeping cottage, the silver hue from above illuminating a convenient pathway, negating the need to switch on a light.

Javier shrugged off his boots and jacket in the kitchen with a weary sigh and deposited his keys in a dish on the table. The hand-painted ceramic bowl had been sent with love from Madrid as a housewarming gift, along with framed artwork of the city they left behind that hung above their bed, a bottle of olive oil, a small jar of saffron, and some homemade turrón.

It wasn’t easy saying goodbye to Señora Romero, the café or their apartment. For all of the unanswered questions they arrived in Spain with, it became their safe haven. Although they were under strict instructions not to leave it too long before visiting again, and who were they to turn down good company and an endless supply of hot, fresh churros?

The rustic limestone cottage had less square footage than the farmhouse next door but was over two stories rather than one. A decked porch ran along the perimeter with wooden chairs and plants at the front, facing a complex of outbuildings and stables. A swing seat big enough for two resided at the back, looking out onto a medium-sized garden with a chicken coop and the rolling farm fields and river bank lying beyond.

The front door opened into a hallway where boots, coats and hats were tidily stored – at Horacio’s insistence – which led to a spacious kitchen/dining area and an adjoining utility room with a door to the garden on the other side. A second hallway branched off the kitchen towards a lounge with a centrepiece stone fireplace and a staircase up to two bedrooms – a master and a smaller spare – and a bathroom.

Whilst the interior still needed some work, fresh coats of paint – off-white for most of the rooms with splashes of eggshell green in the kitchen – and the exposed ceiling beams restored with an oak oil stain gave the place a new lease of life.

The wall clock opposite the kitchen window ticked past 3:00am. Fuck, no wonder Javier felt so beat. He manoeuvred his way upstairs, slow and careful, to avoid the creakiest boards. They may have stripped and waxed the floors, but that apparently didn’t cure the squeaking of the well-worn wood underfoot.

He must have succeeded on this occasion, as it wasn’t until he got to the top that he was met with Luna’s wagging tail. He whispered a greeting to her and rubbed behind her ears until she returned to her sleeping spot beside Sol and Leo, who hadn’t even stirred. Sometimes, the trio would bed down for the night here. Other times, it was just Luna. Rarely, it was none of them now that they had two new rivals for Chucho’s affections next door.

Kira was a six-month-old Great Pyrenees, her thick coat a solid white with pale tan patches. Fuego, a male copper red and white Border Collie, was a couple of months older and already chomping at the bit to get amongst the cattle. Although they both still had to undergo a lot of training before they would be put to use on the ranch, Javier and Horacio got the distinct impression Chucho enjoyed being kept on his toes again.

Javier finally reached his destination but gave himself an extra few seconds to take in the view.

Horacio was nestled beneath their sheets on his stomach, his torso rising and falling in a calming rhythm that Javier was convinced could have lulled him to sleep if he wasn’t standing up.

He undressed, throwing every item of clothing straight into a rattan hamper in the corner of the room, keenly aware he needed to shower but too tired to do anything about it now.

Instead, he perched on the edge of the bed, basking in Horacio’s long eyelashes, rough stubble and unrulier-than-usual hair that was tantalisingly close to becoming a head of curls if he didn’t get it cut soon. Not that Javier was complaining.

He tried to be restrained and let Horacio sleep, but he was only human.

A faint groggy sound came from Horacio’s throat as delicate lips met his forehead, his lashes flickering until they couldn’t resist any longer.

Javier hushed as he gently crawled on the bed, draping himself over Horacio and kissing the nape of his neck. “Sorry it’s so fucking late. Just go back to sleep.”

“You’re making that difficult right now.” Horacio arched his back in response to the warm breath tickling his bare skin as Javier’s mouth worked between muscular shoulder blades.

“Shouldn’t be so irresistible.”

“Sorry about that.”

“No, you’re not.”

“No. I’m not.” Horacio twisted around far enough for Javier to slide off his back and onto the mattress, allowing them to properly embrace. And so Horacio could put his own mouth to use.

That was as far as it was going for the night, though. Horacio had an early start in the morning, and Javier didn’t want to fall asleep before they could finish.

“Did it all go okay?” Horacio asked once they had got comfortable.

“Yeah, yeah. Well, there was a delay with the paperwork, as usual. But once we were on the road, it was fine. Heavy traffic around San Antonio, but I almost had the I-35 to myself on the way home.”

“And the family?”

“Exhausted and drained, obviously. Fuck knows when their hearing will be. But at least they’re together again and safe for now.”

Javier wasn't only clueless about the date of the hearing, he couldn’t predict the outcome of it either. That wasn’t his remit. By the time the Torres Fuentes family were in front of an immigration judge, he would have helped countless more families and individuals like them. Their circumstances weren’t always the same, but their options were just as limited.

Not all days – or nights – were like this one. Sometimes, Javier would be on translation duties on the frontline of the border, triaging and directing people towards help, whether it be medical attention, food, water, toiletries, a change of clothes, a shower, or a bed for the night. Or, more than likely, access to a lawyer. His and the fleet of other aid workers for charities, not-for-profits and NGOs would be some of the first non-threatening faces new arrivals would see once the INS was finished with them, and that wasn’t a responsibility he took lightly.

Other times, he would deliver bond money to detention centres in exchange for someone's freedom, help people fill in forms and paperwork, or run community outreach sessions, reminding people of their rights. He had even hosted several families at the guesthouses for a night or two until safe transportation could be arranged for travel onward to relatives or sponsors elsewhere in the States. Flights were usually not an option for most due to a lack of papers, so the preferred method was long car journeys split between drivers like Javier. No two days were ever quite the same because no two stories were ever the same. There were commonalities, but subtle nuances and complications came with the territory of human lives.

“You did everything you could to help them.”

“I know. Just makes you realise how fucking…fragile it all is. And how fucking lucky we are.”

There was no denying luck – and money, of course – played a role in Horacio securing a visa and the Holy Grail of a green card for being an investor in the States. But Javier had also utilised an old contact at the US Embassy in Bogotá to expedite Horacio’s application. Her name was Colleen, and she had, with great reluctance, helped him secure visas for several informants in the past.

The silence over the line when Javier had uttered Horacio’s name was long, loud and awkward. But just like with his informants, she didn’t ask any questions and did him one last favour on the proviso she never heard from him again.

“We are. And I’ll never forget that.” Horacio’s palm connected with Javier’s cheek, flecks of moonlight highlighting the dark circles under his eyes. “You look exhausted, too.”

A soft chuckle filtered through the shadows. “Thanks. Sorry for waking you, though. I know you’ve gotta be up early.”

“Yeah, which is why I’m glad you did wake me. Once I’ve done the usual rounds, I’ll probably be in meetings most of the day. So, I won’t see you until late.”

“Better make the most of you now, then.”

Lingering kisses followed, but they knew it was fruitless to fight the fatigue.

“How’s everything going with the business plan?” Javier asked once he had accepted defeat.

“So far, so good. I want to go through everything with your father again before everyone arrives. Just to make sure he’s happy with it all.”

“I’ve, er, got it on pretty good authority he is.”

Horacio rolled his eyes. “I know. But it’s his money invested in this place as much as ours. And it’s not like I’m the expert.”

“Not yet. And he trusts you. They all do. You’re no longer a new face around here, remember.”

“I know. But I’m still learning the ropes, and I’m not the one in charge anymore.”

“You sure about that?”

There was a suggestive edge beneath the drowsiness in Javier’s voice. If Horacio looked hard enough through the darkness, he would have seen a quirked brow thrown his way.

“Well, I still have my moments.”

Javier mumbled a lazy hum of agreement. “I’ll say. But don’t worry about tomorrow, okay? You’ll be fine. Trust me.” He managed one last kiss for good measure, even though his eyelids were getting heavier by the second.

A muffled “I do” was pressed into the shell of Javier’s ear as he flipped his body around, his back cushioned against Horacio’s chest. Calloused fingertips weathered by hard labour nowadays rather than a trigger found their home resting on the curve of Javier’s stomach, eliciting a meditative sigh from both as they huddled down.

It didn’t matter that one of them would be up soon with the dawn chorus while the other might be called away past the midnight hour. Because they knew how lucky they were, not only after all they had been through but compared to so many who crossed the border to start a new life. And it was impossible to take that for granted.

------------------------------------------------------

For all that had changed, wall-to-wall meetings and stacks of paperwork were two guaranteed constants to remain. No matter the career path Horacio chose, he was apparently destined never to escape their clutches.

The morning and most of the afternoon – with a short break for lunch – had been spent poring over business plans, maps and spreadsheets with Chucho, his accountant, Miguel, and the ranch and farm managers, Marco and Félix.

Horacio was still adjusting to being the least qualified person in the room again. But the fact that he was even privy to such meetings in the first place was a privilege not customarily afforded to ranch hands without much experience under their belts. It was hard to gauge what others thought about his…unique position here. But he was also an investor whose name, along with Javier’s, was on the title deeds of the farm. Even if people didn’t know about them, it stood to reason that he would be consulted about any development proposals.

Between his money and the safety net of his connections – whatever some may have speculated the precise nature of those were – to a well-respected ranching family, Horacio, so far, hadn’t had too many problems. Not even when shadowing or attending training courses off-site, and he was surrounded by heavy Texan drawls and the type of man who had the propensity to make his feelings clear with his fists – or a gun – if he found out a fellow rancher shared a house and bed with another man.

But the odd off-hand comment had made Horacio wonder if they knew more about his past employment than he realised. In which case, perhaps in their eyes, getting on the wrong side of the former head of Search Bloc wasn’t a wise move.

Regardless, this was what he had signed up for. And for all his investments and networking, there were no cutting corners in ranch and business management, beef production, animal science and equine studies. The Peñas were far from the only family business in the industry, and most had grown up a lot more hands-on than Javier. Horacio could never have leapfrogged over them even if he had wanted to.

By late afternoon, the meetings were done for the day – although there would be plenty more to come – leaving Horacio and Chucho to check on the pregnant heifers. The calves weren’t due until early April, another month away and just in time for Horacio’s birthday. But it was all hands on deck between now and then to ensure it went as smoothly as possible. Their main job today had been to weigh the expectant mothers, who, thankfully, all turned out to be healthy and on the right track.

Broken shards of light bounced off the ranch’s steel fences and gates as Horacio and Chucho sat on the farmhouse porch enjoying a well-earned break, the sun’s heat beginning to show glimpses of what it was capable of during the summer months. Bluebonnets blanketed the fallow fields, and the saccharine scent of yucca blossom travelled on the early spring breeze.

Chucho stirred a freshly made pot of tea and filled two cups to the brim, sliding one across a wooden table towards Horacio, who accepted with a nod of thanks.

“So, do you think it went okay today?” Horacio asked after a quenching sip of tea.

“Better than I expected, to be honest. Félix worked for Ciro and Malena for many years. I wasn’t sure he’d take to new ownership. Or if he’d even want to stay. But he seems to be on board with the idea of expansion.”

“What about the rest of the workers Ciro and Malena employed?”

“A few moved on or retired. But most don’t care who’s in charge as long as they're getting paid.”

“And what about here? Have many left or cut ties since…” Horacio trailed off, hoping he had done enough for Chucho to follow his train of thought without saying it out loud.

“Not many, no, Mijo. And only the ones I’m glad to see the back of.”

“Not many?” Horacio scoffed into his cup, sending ripples across the surface of his drink. “So, still some, then.”

“As I said…only those I don’t want the ranch to be associated with anyway. It's no loss if they can’t keep their noses out of my family’s business.”

The thing was, Horacio and Javier had everything to lose if the wrong person found out. One phone call was all it would take for the police to be banging down their cottage door. After all, that had happened to plenty of others like them in Texas. It had happened to plenty of bars and restaurants that ended up either raided or burned to the ground, the owners and patrons harassed, arrested, beaten to a bloody pulp, or worse. But Horacio couldn’t bring himself to say any of this to Chucho, so he took extra time swallowing his tea instead.

“From what I’ve heard, the majority see you’re a hard worker. You’re willing to learn the ropes. But you’re not afraid to get stuck in or take the lead if needed. You’re professional with the contractors. And you’re trusted to do a good job. That’s worth a lot around here – a lot more than gossipers. I may not know what it’s like for you both...but I do know not everyone’s like them.”

A smile reflexively spread across Horacio’s lips. “My Mamá said similar back in Manizales.”

Chucho mirrored Horacio’s expression. “She sounds like a wise woman.”

“She is.”

“And proud of you. As I’m sure your father would be. Starting over again is never easy, but what you and Javi have done here…I'm proud, too.”

“Thank you. Me too, to be honest.” Horacio let out a brief huff. “When Javier told me what he wanted to do, it was like the final piece slotted in place. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of it sooner.” He shook his head this time at how blindingly obvious it was once Javier said it out loud. “But I think he needed to leave to be able to come back again.”

Chucho hummed into his tea. “That’s the thing about the past: you can’t outrun it. And once you let it walk alongside you, I think your path becomes clearer.”

For the second time that afternoon, Horacio could scarcely believe his Mamá and Chucho hadn’t met yet. But he was looking forward to the day that would change.

“A few years ago, I never thought this could be my life. Or that I wanted it to be. But now, even though it’s not easy work, and the hours are long, and I’m starting from the bottom of the ladder again, everything just feels…” He broke off, searching for the right word.

“Simple?” Chucho supplied.

“Yes. Simple.”

After Horacio finished his tea and saddled up Coco ready to help move the herds into the barns before nightfall, he didn’t mind that his legs were stiff from all the sitting in chairs he had done today. Or that the last thing he felt like doing was wrangling contrary cattle.

He didn’t mind that it would be more of the same at the break of dawn tomorrow and a long road ahead of grafting and proving himself. He didn’t mind that he wouldn’t catch up with Javier until they shared a late dinner once Javier had driven back from Austin. He didn’t mind if complete strangers couldn’t stomach what they got up to behind closed doors as long as they were left alone to live in peace.

He didn’t mind any of it because they were exactly where they were supposed to be.

------------------------------------------------------

No matter what profession he worked in, it was rare for Javier to take a weekend off. He’d accepted a long time ago he wasn’t the 9-5 type, and leaving it all at the door once he clocked off had never been an option. But a new batch of aid workers and volunteers had arrived in the last few weeks. And once Luz, his boss, got wind of an upcoming birthday in the team, she insisted Javier finally use up some vacation time.

Luz Díaz was someone Javier could call a friend as well as his boss these days, especially in light of their parallel circumstances. While Luz was an aid worker on the border, she lived with Carla Moreno, the daughter of a dairy farmer several miles to the south. However, unlike Chucho and Elena, their parents, whilst not hostile, preferred to brush their daughters' relationship under the carpet wherever possible.

When Luz accompanied Javier to the guesthouses with a new family one afternoon, she had first crossed paths with Horacio. Until then, Javier had played his cards close to his chest, never knowing whether it was safe to trust anyone. But it hadn’t taken Luz long to put two and two together – or for her to realise she could share her secret in return.

Birthdays had held no real significance for Javier since childhood. But his Pops was determined to invite him and Horacio to the farmhouse for dinner that evening. In the meantime, once Javier had escaped work by mid-afternoon, he headed home to freshen up and grab a drink. It may have been late October, but the Texan heat was a stubborn son of a bitch, and was still hitting the mid-90s several times a week.

A neatly written note was pinned to the fridge that read In corn barn, so Javier took a UTV and headed across the farm. It was quieter now the harvest was over, and the cattle from the ranch had grazed on any leftovers. The herds were back next door, allowing bales of corn stalks to be gathered up and stored ready for use as bedding for the livestock on chillier winter nights.

The latest calves had thrived since April and only had two months left before they would be weaned off their mothers. Usually, several were sold at auction, but they had kept hold of them this time due to the extra space. Now the harvest was out of the way, the next step was to clear the lower fields and build a new gate linking the ranch with the farm.

When Javier arrived at the barn, Horacio was unloading the last batch of bales off the trailer.

Horacio paused for a second when Javier came into view, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Where did you get that?”

“It was on the passenger seat.” Javier gestured to the parked UTV. “Does it suit me?” He tipped the brim of a Stetson to match the one Horacio was already wearing.

Given the similarities between their outfits, anyone would have been forgiven for thinking Javier was an employee. They both wore belted dark blue jeans – Horacio’s more mud-splattered – brown boots and plaid shirts with rolled-up sleeves – Horacio’s brown and white and Javier’s green and red. The most noticeable difference was Horacio wore a white bandana around his neck whilst Javier’s shirt collar was wide open, his neck on full display.

Horacio silently lifted the side of the trailer back up and locked it now that it was empty. He shrugged the protective gloves off his hands one by one and flung them into the cab of his truck.

He followed Javier into the barn and closed the door, but his attention was on the wall opposite. A long row of hooks was hung across it, where various pieces of equipment were kept, including overalls, brushes, and a wide range of horse tack.

On the last hook was a coiled lariat, which Horacio picked up and stood facing Javier several feet away. He threaded the rope through the Honda knot until he held a loose loop in his right hand, his hungry gaze fixed on Javier as his wrist built momentum over his head in measured circles.

Before Javier could react, the tip of the rope found its target, tightening around his waist, his feet involuntarily taking him forward as Horacio reeled him in. Even when they were chest to chest and breathing hard, Horacio didn’t let up his grip on the rope.

“You know it does,” Horacio eventually rasped at the shell of Javier's ear.

Javier shivered at the timbre of Horacio’s voice, the earthy scent of the land combining with the heady musk of sweat, remnants of mud and dust still visible on his face and arms. “Someone’s been practising.”

“Well, it is a special occasion.” Horacio tugged on the rope, pressing their bodies together until his lips found Javier’s neck, stubble scratching along his jawline, finally brushing over his mouth.

Javier took the bait, responding with a full kiss, distracting Horacio enough to drop the rope. Then it was all bets off as his hands journeyed over Horacio’s back, first dipping southwards, palming his ass through his back pockets, then northwards to remove the bandana and roam under his shirt. But something made Javier pause mid-way.

He looked at Horacio for an explanation but was met only with a coy smile.

“Happy Birthday.”

Javier’s brow quirked suggestively of its own accord. “I thought we weren’t doing presents.”

“I can take it back if you’d prefer.”

“Don’t you fucking dare. Now, shut up and drive us home.”

------------------------------------------------------

No sooner were they back at their cottage than Horacio straddled Javier’s lap on the couch, teeth nipping as they grabbed handfuls of fabric or skin.

When Javier made to unbutton Horacio’s shirt, Horacio stilled his attempts. “Not yet.”

Instead, his mouth ghosted over Javier’s as his fingers slid down to his belt, unbuckling it unhurriedly and deliberately.

Their laboured breaths filled the silence, the rich scent of earth and woodsmoke heavy on their senses.

“Touch yourself,” Horacio finally said, his order clear, voice steady.

It was all Javier could do not to come on the spot. But he managed to exhale through his nose, his lips pursed as he wrestled back a semblance of control.

He let his right hand slide down to his zipper, which he knew Horacio had left closed on purpose. He gradually unfastened it, his palm disappearing out of sight.

A hitched breath and tensed thighs let Horacio know Javier had made contact even before Javier’s wrist began to twitch.

For several strokes, Horacio merely observed, drinking in every detail of Javier’s face, each jaw movement and shuddered breath, their eyes locked together as Javier took himself in hand.

Horacio couldn't hide that he was more than a little affected by the show beneath him, so he upped the ante, his fingers seeking out the buttons of his shirt, popping the top one first, then the second, third and fourth.

He stopped there, giving Javier another sneak peek of the surprise he had planned for more months than he cared to admit. He could see Javier had noticed the tantalising glimpses of brown leather drawn tightly against bare skin and could feel Javier’s motions speed up.

The remaining buttons followed, allowing the shirt to fall over the broad expanse of Horacio’s shoulders until it hit the floor.

“Fuck.” Javier’s hips spasmed, slamming against Horacio’s crotch in the process and triggering a chain reaction of panting. “Shit, Horacio. Where did you – how –”

Javier was cut off by a finger at his mouth and a soft hushing sound.

Horacio pressed a digit to Javier’s lips until it was engulfed by wet warmth. “Keep going.”

As Javier’s tongue swirled and his cheeks hollowed, he set back to work, building up friction along the shaft and over the head. It was like a switch flicked in Horacio during moments like this when he was all smoky rasps and concise commands. It was the closest Javier had ever got to experiencing Colonel Carrillo first-hand, and nothing was as intoxicating.

When Javier was being regarded and instructed so intensely, he had no choice but to submit. Anything to please the force of nature who made him come harder than he ever had done in his life. And so, he kept going, fist clenched around his cock, edging himself with each edict echoing in his ears.

Running across Horacio’s chest below his pectoral muscles was a leather strap linked to another one on either shoulder that crisscrossed over his back, his biceps restrained by matching cuffs. The leather was a worn cognac brown with intricate stitching, decorative studs and buckles like the vintage cowboy belts the harness appeared to be made from.

“You like it?”

Javier’s free hand hypnotically reached up to Horacio’s torso, fingers tracing each detail of the leather in between cupping Horacio’s pecs and tweaking his nipples.

“Beautiful,” was the only word he could muster. It was by far the best birthday present Javier had ever had. Although, if he didn’t know any better, he would have assumed Horacio was trying to make this his last one.

Horacio was conflicted between watching and needing more, so he compromised by subtly rocking against Javier’s inner thigh whilst continuing his role as a voyeur. Knowing his voice alone could get Javier off was a power trip Horacio never grew tired of, even after all these years. In fact, since his career change, it had become more arousing because being in charge was a novelty now.

He brought two fingers to Javier’s lips again, which were taken greedily without the need to be told.

“Good, that’s it, and another.”

All three digits rested on Javier’s tongue as Horacio probed back and forth with increasing vigour, leaving no doubt what he had in mind as a string of saliva connected from mouth to fingers when he finally withdrew.

Horacio transferred his glossy hand straight to his chest and across his nipples, flicking the pad of his thumb over each bud just the way Javier liked to lick them.

When Horacio looked back up, Javier was tugging in a frenzy, his breathing ragged and fraying at the seams, dangerously close to it all being over.

Horacio reached out to stop Javier’s wrist, leaning closer until his lips brushed against his ear. “Not before I’ve ridden you.”

Javier immediately extracted his hand from his jeans with a huff of frustration, resenting Horacio almost as much as wanting to be fucked. Every man had his limits, and his were rapidly being reached.

With both hands free, he alternated between hot, smooth skin, the textured leather and cool metal. He slid his fingers beneath the harness, imagining all the positions he could manoeuvre Horacio around.

His hands travelled down to Horacio’s ass, pulling him further into his lap as their mouths crashed together at long last. From glutes to thighs, Javier embraced each one until he met resistance under the denim of Horacio’s jeans.

Javier ran his fingers over it a few times. “Is that what I think it is?”

“Guess there’s only one way to find out.”

Javier growled as he lunged for Horacio’s belt and zipper, both men making light work of removing his jeans.

Whilst Horacio stood up, he took the opportunity to undress Javier and reach over to the drawer beneath the nearby coffee table. He rummaged around until he retrieved what he was looking for and stashed it on the sofa.

There was no holding back now as nails raked over hot skin and tongues connected, rough and harsh, their cocks jutting between their stomachs. Javier’s hands glided over and under the leather straps, descending beyond until his palms massaged Horacio’s cheeks apart, wider with each circular motion, his knuckles teasing up and down the cleft.

The tremor that ran through Horacio was enough to cause Javier’s arm to stretch across the sofa until he located the bottle of lube, expertly flipping the cap open and pouring liberally.

He alternated between his middle finger and thumb in a corkscrew motion, letting Horacio stretch around him, Horacio’s forehead dropping to Javier’s shoulder, teeth grazing flesh as he held their cocks in his fist.

It wasn’t long before Horacio lowered himself, steadily taking inch by inch. He initially held still, experimenting with nudges up and down as he braced his arms on the back of the couch.

A winded noise escaped Javier’s throat as Horacio sunk deeper with more force this time, gyrating his hips until he found a rhythm.

Javier was torn between the mass of muscle and leather at his fingertips but settled for clinging to the front of the harness, pulling Horacio further onto his cock.

A strained grunt left Horacio’s throat, prompting him to re-adjust so his feet were planted flat on the sofa cushions, the change in angle plunging him to new depths. He paused, giving them a chance to catch their breaths. And then, without further warning, Horacio squatted down.

The echo of his ass hitting Javier’s thighs was enough to make Horacio do it again. And again, over and over, the slap of skin on skin louder each time.

One of Javier’s hands scrambled aimlessly around for an anchor, eventually finding the couch’s arm where Horacio’s Stetson had landed earlier in the proceedings.

Javier snatched hold of the brim and brought it towards them, depositing it on Horacio’s head. “Keep it on.”

Horacio was powerless to refuse when it made Javier’s cock twitch and pulsate, massaging Horacio’s prostate as he bounced at just the right angle, his own length sliding up and down the plains of Javier’s chest and abdomen.

Now the hat was in place, Javier's hands sailed over Horacio’s thighs, pausing as he made contact with the leather band around his right thigh. He couldn’t believe Horacio had not only remembered their dirty talk the morning after Trujillo’s wedding but that he had brought Javier’s fantasy to life. And it was better than even his wildest dreams could have imagined.

A part of him wanted to remove the garter just so he could re-attach it. But he was mesmerised by the way the leather stretched around Horacio’s thigh as his pelvis pulsed back and forth, up and down, and round and round.

His fingers gravitated south, landing where the two men joined together. “Fuck,” Javier choked out, rubbing in circles around the wet rim, feeling the thrumming heat of his own cock, and wishing he had a better visual of them moving as one.

“Lie on the floor.” In complete contrast, Horacio’s cadence was calm and in control, like he was directing his horse.

Javier did as he was told, his body cushioned by a thick grey, black, and ivory Zapotec rug.

Without hesitation, Horacio sat atop Javier’s thighs with his back to him, presenting the perfect view as though he had read Javier’s mind. As he re-seated himself, he reached behind, spreading his cheeks wider as he sunk lower.

A strangled whimper was drawn from Javier’s chest as he raised his head for a closer look once Horacio started to move. He ignored the strain in his neck and replaced Horacio’s hands with his own, each palm cupping and squeezing, pushing forward, fingernails clawing, urging his rider to go faster.

In response, Horacio deepened the roll of his hips and balanced his hands on the rug beneath them.

They had picked it out on a trip to San Antonio the previous year, one of their first joint purchases for the cottage. And now they were finally christening it, surrounded by an array of décor and furnishings they had chosen together since. For their own home, an unthinkable notion in the not-so-distant past. Yet here they were against all odds.

Javier grasped the latest addition to their household, pulling Horacio by the harness in all directions as though he was the jinete (horseman) steering the reins rather than the steed being mounted bareback. But Horacio was the one wearing a Stetson. The one in the saddle daily, strengthening and toning his muscles even more than they already were, and Javier could already feel the difference.

He let go of the harness, his fingertips skimming Horacio’s voluptuous upper arms, rump and thighs, caressing the tight leather cuffs, pressing the sharp chill of the buckles against fiery skin until a shockwave rippled through Horacio and straight to Javier’s cock.

As Javier’s hips involuntarily bucked, their rhythm faltering in a chorus of moans, Horacio was beginning to regret not utilising a belt or one of the lariats from the barn as restraints on Javier’s wrists. But he changed his mind when he felt a crisp slap across the ass like a quirt used with overzealous force. But unlike the horses – with whom he was always gentle – Horacio had no objection to the sting left behind.

In fact, it only spurred Horacio on, his ass lifting higher with each strike, building momentum, one hand stimulating his own cock in tandem.

Javier could feel rather than see Horacio jerking off, and his pelvis began to automatically plough upwards again, trying and failing to keep in time when he was this far gone.

“Horacio,” Javier breathed out, his tone pleading, desperate and wrecked.

“Tell me what you need.” Horacio wasn’t going to make it as easy this time. If Javier wanted something, he would have to use his words.

“I need you on all fours.”

And so Horacio dismounted, willing and waiting to give Javier everything he asked for, a complete 180 in a matter of minutes.

Javier wasted no time and fell in place behind Horacio, lining himself up and propelling forwards with a rough thud, nails digging into hipbones hard enough to leave marks.

As Horacio took himself in hand once more, Javier slowed to bask in a bird's eye view of his cock disappearing and reappearing, his thumbs spreading Horacio wider to get a better look at where they became one. It would have been easy to take it for granted by this stage, but he never did, not when they had been forced apart by circumstance and geography so many times before.

Whilst Javier was distracted, Horacio threw back his hips, causing a hiss of pleasure that inspired him to do it again and again, his ass pounding against Javier’s groin.

Javier drove forward in retaliation, pulling Horacio towards him with a firm jerk on the harness, a dual wave of groans unleashing each time Javier manhandled him, the thick leather straps taut against Horacio’s clammy skin, hopefully leaving imprints from the force.

Javier yanked hard enough to raise Horacio up on his knees, cementing them back to chest, teeth, mouth and moustache going to town as Horacio craned his neck to meet the onslaught.

“Do you know how fucking good you look like this? How…fucking…beautiful?” Javier’s declaration was broken up with each thrust as he resumed movement.

“It’s all for you,” Horacio purred between lip bites. “Your own cowboy to play with.”

With a muttered “Fuck,” Javier pushed Horacio back down on all fours, toppling his Stetson to the floor, one hand gripping at the harness, the other at the nape of Horacio’s neck, his fingers fondling the gold chain that complemented the silver one at his own breast.

His hips hammered forward, no holds barred, as an all too familiar pressure built and threatened to consume him any second now. He glanced down, transfixed by his own fluid motions, entranced by how well Horacio held his cock, how Javier had tamed a once wild bronco who would have thrown off any other rider a long time ago. But not him, never him, so maybe he was more of a vaquero than he thought.

A combination of the visuals, the leather against his skin, and the tight heat squeezing and releasing around him took its toll. Javier let out a wounded gasp as though all the air had been knocked out of his lungs, his muscles tensing from head to toe as he watched his cock spasm and fill Horacio up.

As liquid warmth painted Horacio's walls, his wrist jolted and shook, sending him over the edge. He felt an extra weight on his back, the harsh scrape of teeth and words of encouragement at his ear as a hand took over from his own. Just the right pace and force, just how he liked it, just enough to make him coat Javier’s fingers, vision blurred, back arched.

They didn’t move as the room came back into focus, letting their lungs and heart rates return to baseline. Before Horacio could collapse to the floor, Javier slowly pulled out, smearing glistening fingers around Horacio’s fluttering hole, mixing it in with his own release. His tongue swirled and lapped from behind, making Horacio tremble on his knees until they buckled, and he could take no more.

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The spark of a lighter and deep exhales of smoke were the only sounds to be heard for several minutes as they lay recovering in bed, the hard floor downstairs proving too much for their aching limbs, even with the rug for protection.

“So, are you gonna tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

“Oh, come on. You know fucking well what.”

“Do I?”

“Yes.”

“Does it matter?”

“Well…no. I’m just curious, that’s all.”

“Surprised you haven’t guessed. In fact, I kinda thought it was you dropping a hint.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It was one of your old magazines that gave me the instructions on how to make it. And it’s not hard to get access to leather around here. The saddlers the ranch uses are well-stocked in almost everything. They don’t need to know what it’s being used for.”

Whatever Javier had been expecting to hear, it wasn’t that. When moving into the cottage, he had cleared out his old bedroom. Hidden in the depths of his wardrobe, beneath several layers of clothes, was a pile of magazines he never had the heart to throw away or burn, one of which was a Cowboy and Rodeo Special of Drummer.

Javier blew out a low chuckle as he passed their cigarette across the bed. “I wish I had been dropping a hint. Although…looks like you did fine without my influence. Always the dark horse.”

"Hey, they're your magazines, not mine."

"You read them. Cover to cover by the sounds of it."

"Just making up for lost time when I was younger."

"At least someone's getting use out of them. So, you ready for your first rodeo, now? Based on this afternoon, I'd put in a good word."

"Very funny."

Although, whilst Javier was, of course, joking, there were plenty of men like Horacio who did compete across Texas – without hiding who they were as well. He imagined Horacio would rather die in a stampede of raging bulls than partake in such a competition. But nonetheless, it was an appealing fantasy for Javier to indulge in from time to time.

His fingers traced patterns over Horacio’s thigh where the leather garter remained even after the harness and cuffs had come off, the leftover scent of sweat and semen on their skin fusing with the tobacco in the air. He had taken great pleasure and care in removing those; however, when it came to the garter, Javier placed a ring of kisses where the leather sat but left it in position.

“You liked it, then?”

Javier gave Horacio an incredulous look as though the answer spoke for itself. But there was a hint of uncertainty behind the question, and it was only fair to provide reassurance. “I loved it. A lot. I don’t really do birthdays, but you’ve certainly made this one memorable. So, thank you.”

"My pleasure," Horacio murmured mid-kiss. "And it definitely beats my birthday."

"That wouldn't be hard."

The first few hours of Horacio's birthday were spent helping deliver calves and bedding down close by the expectant mothers every night for the following two weeks. He barely saw Javier other than at meal times, and it took multiple showers to wash the pungent barn aroma out of his hair.

“Hadn’t we better shower soon?” Horacio said with reluctance once they pulled apart. “Don’t wanna keep your father waiting.”

Javier leaned over to look at the clock on the bedside table. “Yeah, we should. I’m starving now we’ve worked up an appetite.”

“Do you want to do the honours?” Horacio gestured towards his thigh.

“Keep it on.”

Horacio could tell from the wicked glint in Javier's eye he wasn’t joking. “You do know I have to work with your father? And look him in the eye.”

“Oh, come on, he won’t even notice. Not everyone checks you out as much as me, y’know. Especially not my Pops. And…” Javier sat up and swung his leg across Horacio’s thigh until he was straddling him. “It is still my birthday, remember.”

Despite such brazen tactics, Horacio met Javier’s mouth again, groaning gently as Javier’s teeth pulled on his bottom lip. “Fine. As long as you can keep your hands to yourself through dinner.”

“I’ll try my best.”

He could make no such guarantees after dinner, though.

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It took another week for the temperature to cool by several degrees, just in time for the residents of Laredo to visit neighbouring pumpkin patches, carve out Jack-o’-lanterns and go Trick-or-Treating.

By the time Javier had finished work and picked up some groceries, Chucho was busy in the lounge blanketing a table with a white lace cloth before arranging two extra tiers on top decorated with papel picado. Nearby trays were full of items ready and waiting to be placed on the ofrenda, including a Talavera pitcher of water, pan de muerto, a plate of salt, fresh marigolds, Calaveras, and a familiar wooden box.

Chucho looked up at Javier, who stood in the doorway with a cardboard box. “Ah, Javi, good timing. Pass those here.”

Javier held out a batch of fresh buñuelos delivered straight from Desde La Frontera. “Need a hand?”

Chucho looked at Javier with pleasant surprise. “Please, Mijo.”

Between them, they transferred everything from the trays to the table, Chucho directing where each item needed to be placed.

When it came to the wooden box, Chucho sat on the sofa to open it.

Javier watched silently from a few feet away, an ache forming in his chest when he saw the photos spread out on the furniture. But he pushed past it and sat in the adjacent armchair.

He looked closer at the pictures and reached into the pocket of his leather jacket. “This needs to go on it too,” he said.

Chucho glanced up to see Javier clutching Mariana’s poetry book.

“Of course. She can tell us how much she liked Madrid. Which reminds me…”

Chucho stood up and disappeared into his bedroom before reappearing with a card in his hand. “I always keep it by my bed, but it belongs on here.”

Chucho was holding an old prayer card of La Virgen de Guadalupe. “Abuela Rosa gave it to your Mamá for her quinceañera, along with these. ” Chucho lifted a string of rosary beads from the wooden box. “I think she cherished the card as a reminder of our ancestors. Even though your Abuela disapproved, your Mamá had her own ideas about Guadalupe.” He couldn’t help but laugh and shake his head with fondness.

“How do you mean?”

“Back in the '60s, Guadalupe became the mascot for the farmers’ union protests – the ones your Mamá marched on. She liked to think of her as someone who helped those in need. Do you remember her reading stories about the Aztecs? And Guadalupe, La Malinche and La Llorona?”

“Yeah, I remember.”

Javier blinked, keeping his eyes closed for a fraction longer than was customary. The memory was fuzzy around the edges, but he could feel the warmth of his mother lying beside him on his bed, a book between them as she read aloud tales of their ancestors. Once he started getting drowsy, she would sing to him or stroke his hair and kiss him goodnight, the comforting sound of her favourite telenovelas drifting through his bedroom door as he fell into a deep sleep.

When he was even smaller and couldn’t sleep after his older cousins convinced him La Llorona had been spotted in Laredo the previous night, his Mamá soothed him with the advice she had been given by her mother to always pray a Hail Mary and an Our Father whenever near water before making a sign of the cross for protection.

However, Javier also remembered during the first few months after she was gone, he would have nightmares about La Llorona. Except in those dreams, his Mamá had taken on the appearance of the wailing spirit, and her ghost roamed along the banks of the Rio Grande, screaming for him. But no matter how hard he tried to get closer to her, she would move out of reach until he woke up screaming.

“There have been so many versions of those stories since the days of the Aztecs, who knew Guadalupe as Coatlalopeuh, Tonantzin, or Coatlicue. La Llorona as Cihuacoatl. And La Malinche as Malinalli or Malintzin, or La Chingada. Some of those stories say they are all one and the same. And that the conquistadors made Guadalupe the Madonna above the others. Your Mamá saw Guadalupe as a symbol of hope, a mediator between the Aztec and Catholic religions, uniting all the different parts of us and our roots. The light and the dark, the old world and the new, the conquered and the conqueror, the obedient and the rebellious, the eagle and the snake, the Mexican and the American.”

“Never thought of it like that when I was younger. But it’s beautiful.”

“It is.” Chucho stood up and placed the prayer card on the altar.

“D’you think it’s possible, though? To unite it all, I mean.”

“I think we have to try as much as we can. And learn to make peace with it when we can’t. But I know it’s not easy.”

“Mexico didn’t seem far enough to run when I took the DEA job, even though it was never home. So, Colombia it was.” Javier couldn’t help but laugh at his own confused logic in hindsight. “But when we were in Manizales, I kept thinking about all the stories you told me about our family history – in the US and Mexico. And it just…hit me I was needed right here on the border. So, thank you, Pops.”

“For what?”

“For reminding me of my roots.”

“Your Mamá helped out a lot here, but she always wanted to do more. And she would have done a whole lot more if she’d had the chance. She’d have fought for yours and Horacio’s rights too, I’m sure of it. I had a feeling you’d take after her one day.”

“Better late than never, right?”

“Right. She’d be so proud of you and your work, Mijo. And so am I.”

A customary exchange of nods filled the silence that had become a trademark between father and son over the years when words seemed inadequate.

Chucho cleared his throat and turned to make one final check everything was in its rightful place on the ofrenda. “I think we’re about ready if you want to get Horacio.”

Javier headed next door with his Pops’ words – and his Mamá’s – echoing in his head. He thought about all the tangled threads that had run through him his whole life like the river he grew up on the bank of. It was ironic he could walk across bridges from Laredo into Mexico and back again, a confluence of his heritage. Yet there was always a gap that wouldn’t close. A gap those who insisted on his name meaning shame with a n rather than rock with a ñ wouldn’t let him close. All of the contradictions and dualities he had tried to reconcile, assuming in the past that he was expected to pick one or the other but never feeling qualified enough, resigning himself to an eternal conflict he could never win.

He thought about the people who crossed the invisible line in the earth every day, the one that instantly changed their identity and status whether they liked it or not, dividing and flattening their humanity into stereotypes and insults. The one that caused mothers separated from their children to cry like La Llorona and be condemned for finding themselves in desperate circumstances through no fault of their own. The one that led to Operations Hold the Line and Gatekeeper building walls and deploying an army of la migra, as Border Patrol were often called, to keep people out.

Maybe it was Javier’s recalcitrance, but the more the US government tried to put up borders – despite not thinking twice about violating those belonging to other countries – the more at ease he felt without them. After all, Texas had been part of Mexico in the past, as well as its own republic, and he had spent more than enough of his life trapped by self-imposed borders and walls already.

To be in a place like Laredo was to live on the margin of two countries and cultures, not one or the other. He was Mexican American, a Tejano. He had shared his heart and bed with women and men. Horacio was a closely guarded secret and a naked truth; they lived in the shadows and in the light. He was making a difference, yet it was a drop in the ocean of an ever-expanding problem. He regretted so much of what went down in Colombia, but not that he went in the first place, not only because of Horacio but because it brought him full circle. It brought him peace. It brought him home.

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As the clock struck midnight and welcomed in Día de los Difuntos, the ofrenda was aglow with candlelight, and the fresh scent of copal filled the farmhouse.

Horacio stood over the altar, his gaze fixed on the image of him in his Papá’s jacket, his father’s usually stern expression relaxed and…proud. He had never really allowed himself to think of that word before. But as the veladoras flickered and swayed across the photograph his Mamá had insisted he kept, he could no longer ignore it.

Beneath the photo lay the golden pendants, temporarily removed from Horacio's neck for the festivities, a glass of his Papá’s favourite rum to match the one in his hand, and a plate of tamales.

“Not bad for a Colombian.”

“I guess I had a good teacher.”

“After dealing with a son determined not to follow in my footsteps, it makes a change to find someone more willing.”

Horacio’s eyes landed back on the photograph of him and his Pops before shifting to one of Mariana in her element at a Chicano civil rights march with a toddling Javier by her side, a bittersweet smile taking hold of his lips. “Funny how it works out.”

“True. But as long as it does, that's the main thing. Even if it’s not what you expected.”

“I’ll drink to that.”

“What are we toasting?” Javier asked as he came in from the kitchen with two glasses of his Mamá’s mezcal of choice, passing one over to Chucho.

Chucho gave a nod of thanks and raised his glass. “To endings and beginnings. And reunions.”

The next couple of hours were spent telling stories, reminiscing, remembering. Welcoming the past into the present, letting it know there was still a future.

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Chucho retreated to bed first, leaving Javier and Horacio to finish their drinks by the fire, which had burned down to its last mesquite log.

After placing their empty glasses in the kitchen, Javier stopped by the ofrenda on his way back to the sofa. His eye caught the selection of sugar skulls on display, each delicate design bearing the name of a departed loved one. Although, there were, in fact, two each for Mariana and Eduardo.

Javier traced his finger across the one which read Mariana Rosa Reyes Estrada, a pair of arms gathering tightly around his waist simultaneously.

“I never knew her with this name. She left Estrada behind in Mexico. Before she married, she was Mariana Reyes. Then she took Pops’ name ‘cos that’s the gringo way. And to make all the paperwork easier, I was just a Peña, too. But Pops likes to welcome her home with her Mexican and American names. In case she gets lost, he always says.” Javier released an affectionate chuckle at the expense of his Pops’ superstitions.

“He told me when he asked for my father’s full name.” Horacio smiled into Javier’s shoulder as he reached towards the skull that read Eduardo Horacio Carrillo Acosta.

He repeated the same motion across the shared part of his and his Papá's name. “The CNP prefer you choose one name when you enlist. So, of course, we all followed suit – Mamá included. And she left Sierra behind when she changed her papers.”

“Seems like we all have to leave parts of ourselves behind one way or another.”

“True. But if we’re lucky, we find them again somewhere down the line.”

Javier hummed in agreement as a trail of kisses soothed at his neck.

“When was the last time you did this, by the way?” Horacio asked as he traced idle patterns over Javier’s stomach.

“Día de Muertos? Fuck…I can’t even remember. When I was in Colombia, I always came home for Christmas – but not before. Pops never made a big deal out of it, but I could tell he was disappointed.”

“I’m sure he understood. And at least you’re here now.”

“I know. I think I just needed to do it in my own time.”

“Same here. So, thank you. To you and your father.”

“For what?”

“Letting me be a part of it. I think it’s something I’ve needed to do for years.”

“Horacio, of course you’re a part of it. You’re a part of the family.” Javier’s fingers found Horacio’s, lacing them together with ease above the belt of his jeans. “Tú eres mi familia.” (You’re my family)

“Y tú eres mía.” (And you’re mine)

“I was thinking about tomorrow…well, technically, later today. I, er, wondered if you wanted to watch the parade downtown. Then maybe head over to the cemetery with Pops. It's fine if it’s too much. I get it. I just thought maybe –”

“It’s okay.” Horacio cut him off, turning him around until they were face-to-face then forehead-to-forehead. “I’d love to.”

As the last embers of mesquite turned to ash, they knelt in front of the soft glow of the ofrenda, fingers connecting with their silver cross encased between their palms. A final attempt to welcome home those who had shaped so much of their children's lives, even in their absence, and sometimes in the most unexpected ways.

------------------------------------------------------

Echoes of drumbeats filled downtown Laredo by late afternoon, accompanied by a rainbow of papel picado along every street and a sea of Catrinas and Catrins. Children and adults alike wore masks or calavera face paint and marigolds in their hair, the intricate details of their costumes no doubt requiring months of preparation.

Food and drink stalls had seemingly popped up overnight, selling everything from pan de muerto, pozole and tamales to alegría, gorditas, marranitos and champurrado. It was impossible not to get swept from stand to stand, and fears of Javier and Horacio being scrutinised by anyone they happened to bump into were soon allayed. The hustle and bustle of the festivities made them anonymous yet at one with the city, as they were all here for the same reason.

Floats, dancers and puppets passed through the main roads, a spectacle Javier hadn’t witnessed in years. As a teen, the last thing he felt like doing was celebrating when it came to his Mamá’s passing. She wasn’t supposed to have gone so soon. But nowadays, he could appreciate the care and respect involved in honouring the dead. He could look back on the precious memories and not feel the need to push them away. He could accept the duality of grief and love, not as contradictions but as two sides of the same coin.

As they followed the procession at the end of the parade, making their way towards the cemetery to meet Chucho, Javier caught Horacio’s eye with a silent question. One that Horacio answered with a firm nod, reassurance that they were still on the same page.

So much had changed since Horacio was last here for Día de Muertos, not least of all the fact Javier was with him this time and had since met his family. And Escobar was dead, of course. His Papá was no longer a choking force around his neck but a warm presence that sat more comfortably on his chest. Not weightless, but manageable now.

Although darkness had fallen by the time they arrived at the cemetery, a sea of candles and lanterns lit the gravesides like an endless night sky, each one guiding the way home, even if just for one day. The celebrations from earlier continued, some families singing, drinking and eating. Others prayed or sat with blankets and hot drinks, telling stories and keeping memories alive.

Chucho had been busy when it was still light, clearing out dried flower stems and polishing Mariana’s headstone. Now, fresh marigolds were arranged around the candles, their strong fragrance carrying across the cemetery.

They were greeted with pats on the back and a glass of mezcal. A lowkey toast and short prayers were all they had planned, preferring to save the rest for the privacy of home.

“I just wanted to say thank you. To both of you for coming.”

“Any time, Pops. I’d forgotten how beautiful this place looks all lit up.”

“It reminds me of Día de las Velitas back in Colombia. People light candles and lanterns at cemeteries like this. Not that I could bring myself to join them after Papá.”

“There’s still time.” Javier held Horacio’s gaze through the flickering half-light, making the most of the only gesture he could give in public.

“I know.”

“It’s quieter here usually. A nice place to think. And she’s always been a good listener. So, if you ever need some breathing space, I’m sure she’d be all ears.”

“I’ll bear that in mind.” Horacio mirrored Chucho’s soft smile before laying down a tasteful wreath of marigolds he’d bought from one of the street vendors on their way here.

Javier watched with a growing warmth in his chest as his past, present and future collided once again. A first meeting of sorts, even if it wasn’t how it should have been. Even if it was built on memories and traditions, on prayers and stories, it was still real.

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Slivers of silver reflected off the dark waters beyond the farm’s boundaries, the stars above shimmering like distant fireflies. Southern Texan Decembers were mild, but there was a chill to the air after sundown, especially by the river bank. However, it was nothing a blanket or two couldn’t fix.

Horacio was propped against a mesquite tree with Javier sitting between his legs, one blanket beneath them and the other draped over them. Coco stood watch nearby, her reins looped around a branch as she chomped on her favourite treat of apple slices – a reward for tonight’s extra work.

They shared a flask of Manizales’ finest coffee between Horacio lightly massaging Javier’s scalp and temples. It had been a hectic few days, from Chucho roping them into Las Posadas preparations to the farm being short-staffed in the past week due to seasonal colds and flu and the border seeing a higher influx of crossings in the build-up to the holidays.

Apart from a Christmas dinner or two, they weren’t expecting to take much time off over the festive period, but tonight was all about them. They had miraculously managed to escape work on time before driving to Desde La Frontera for a meal that was starting to become an anniversary tradition.

Javier played with Horacio’s hands, pressing kisses into his knuckles and pausing over his left wrist. “You like it, then?”

“Very much.”

“I know it’s not quite a garter or harness, but…” Javier trailed off, his shoulders and abdomen shaking in tandem.

“The strap’s the same colour, though.” One of Horacio’s hands snaked along Javier’s form, tickling at the waistband of his jeans enough to make him squirm.

“Oh really? Hadn’t noticed.”

“Liar.”

“Maybe. But it does suit you.”

Of course, Javier was banged to rights. He had spent considerable time picking out the watch, knowing Horacio preferred something digital – for pinpoint accuracy – and practical. Horacio had never got around to replacing his old one that was stopped by the ambush, so it was a long overdue replacement.

But if it also happened to be a gentle reminder of certain escapades every time he looked down at it, well...that was an added bonus. As was the thought of Horacio wearing Javier’s gift buckled around his wrist every day, the strap tight enough to leave a mark on his sun-kissed skin.

“Likewise with your present.”

“I dunno about that. I think you wear it better.”

“You’re the homegrown Texan boy, not me.”

“You’re the fucking cowboy, not me.”

Horacio’s fingers on his right hand took a firmer hold of Javier’s hair, coaxing him to turn around and abandon the flask he had just brought to his lips. “Technically…you own part of the ranch and farm. So, it’s about time you had a Stetson.”

Their lips met over Javier’s shoulder, still warm and tingling from the coffee.

“Fair point.” Javier picked up the flask again and downed whatever was left before it went cold. “We got any more of this, by the way?”

“Not ‘til next week. I told Alejandra to bring as much as she can fit in her luggage.”

“Well, there’ll be plenty of suitcases to choose from.”

“I know. I’m not sure your father knows what he’s let himself in for.”

“Oh, don’t worry, he knows from when my cousins and I were kids. And he gets to play host, so he’ll be in his element.”

“He’s already given me a list of groceries to pick up on the way back from the livestock auction in Hondo.”

“When’s that again?”

“The day before my family arrives. Not ideal timing, but couldn’t really say no to more experience.”

“You still shadowing Gus Montoya?”

“Yeah, he’s been in the trade since he was 16, and he’s one of the best in the business now. I thought I should be involved before we start buying the new Santa Gertrudis and Longhorns for this place next year.”

“The paddocks are gonna be in these lower fields here, right?” Javier gestured towards a recently cleared stretch of land with the newly installed gate separating it from the ranch next door.

“Yes. It’ll be easier to move everything back and forth without disturbing the other fields. Then, once the new herd’s settled in, we can expand the stables, get in some more Morgans and Quarter Horses. Maybe diversify the cover crops for next winter.”

“Sounds good.” An unseen smile had spread across Javier’s face, the novelty of listening to Horacio talk ranch business not having worn off yet. All those years he tuned out whenever his Pops did the same, yet he never tired of hearing Horacio’s plans.

“It keeps me out of trouble.”

“Shame.”

“That’s not until next year, though…” Horacio trailed off, his lips devouring Javier’s neck, nibbling until Javier wriggled in his hold.

“Well, we better make the most of this before your family arrives.”

Horacio hummed in agreement, his mouth still buried in Javier’s shoulder. “Especially as there’s a quick turnaround before New Year’s.”

“True. I take it Felipe and Juana are still okay to come?”

“I forgot to tell you – I spoke to him earlier. Juana’s feeling much better now the morning sickness has passed. And with Cali gone and FARC taking up more and more CNP resources in the jungle, it’s mostly turf wars between the smaller gangs in Medellín. So, Martínez authorised his leave, and they’re flying out on the 30th.”

“Glad to hear it. It’s all good on the Miami front as well. They arrive the same day, late afternoon, once Connie’s finished her shift and Steve’s picked Olivia up from his parents’ house.”

“Okay, good. So, everything’s sorted then.”

“Not quite…I still need to clean out the guesthouses. Don’t think our old one’s been done since the Navarro Vega family left.”

“At least it’s still getting used since we moved out.”

“Yeah, well, I guess someone always needs it. Especially with IIRIRA coming into force. So many more fucking deportations. So many people taking bigger risks ‘cos they've got no choice.” Javier exhaled harshly through his nose.

He ran his fingers over his moustache and chin, pressing his thumb into his jaw and resting his face in his hand. “It’s starting to feel like the old days again.”

“But it’s not, Javier. You’re on the other side of it all this time.”

“It’s not just the border, though, is it?”

“What isn’t?”

“Legislation that could have us arrested for fucking in the privacy of our own home.”

“We’ve always been careful.”

“We thought we were careful back in Colombia, Horacio. And look where that got us.”

Javier didn’t think about those days much anymore if he could help it. Neither man did, except on specific dates or bad days if they were unlucky. But it was hard to shake the sense of paranoia in light of what the laws of his own state had to say about his sex life. It wasn’t far-fetched to imagine someone like Mia Domínguez spying on them through a long lens, waiting to catch them out.

“True. There’ll always be a risk. But people like us have always existed under the radar. And we’ve been here over a year now, remember. Anyone who’s got a problem with us has already made their feelings perfectly clear. The rest either don’t know or don't give a fuck. Our story doesn’t have to end like the one you showed me in The New Yorker.”

“I know.”

Javier had been in two minds about whether to share it. But Horacio insisted he was the one to be read to for a change, preferring to hear the evocative imagery of the wild American landscape from the mouth of a Texan. The parallels were undoubtedly there between the glossy magazine pages and elements of their lives – but luckily, not all of it rang true for them.

“For a start, they were sheepherders from Wyoming,” Javier added with a tone of defiance.

“Exactly. Completely different.”

“Yep.” Javier exhaled loudly, his mind already returning to his previous stubborn thought. "But it’s the same government smoke and mirrors shit all over again. The same fucking hypocrisy. If it's not chasing people down the river or letting them die in the desert, it’s drug shipments they made easier to transport here in the first place. Or you’ve got couples like us crossing over looking for safety, only to run into fucking sodomy laws. It’s never gonna stop.”

It was the same sleight of hand tactics Javier had seen before. Legislation made thousands of miles away would claim to solve a problem whilst exacerbating it on the frontline. Whether it was drugs or human beings, they proved time and time again that they couldn’t be contained by a border or a statute book. Whether it was Border Patrol or the DEA, choppers would fly over the river at night, fruitlessly chasing traffickers despite the extra budget. If the usual border crossings were out of bounds, people would risk more remote or treacherous spots to try their luck.

It wasn’t unheard of for them to emerge from clusters of trees like the one they were sitting in now, drenched and shaking from the cold and dehydration. Or for Javier to be ready and waiting with towels, a change of clothes, a hot shower, or food and drink. Some would present themselves willingly to the authorities, others would disappear, never to be seen or heard from again. If anyone ever asked, Javier had seen and knew nothing.

“And neither are you. Look at all the people you’ve helped already. You might not be able to save everyone, but you’re making the difference you always wanted to make.”

Horacio coaxed Javier to face him again, cupping his jaw and rubbing a thumb over his stubbled cheek. “Estoy orgulloso de ti.” (I’m proud of you)

Javier closed his eyes, basking in Horacio’s touch and closing the gap between them. “Y yo de ti.” (And I of you)

Easy kisses followed – the kind that were grounding and familiar, safe and timeless.

They rode back to the cottage with only the moon and stars guiding the way. Horacio clasped Coco’s reins whilst Javier held onto his waist from behind, making the most of the idyllic evening spent alone. Because even here, they knew it couldn’t always be like this. But despite all that life would throw at them in the years to come, they would be there for each other, to grow and change, to sail in the same direction, even if not always in the same boat. To make peace with the past, to live in the present, and to look to the future on their own terms.

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Burnt oranges and yellows filled the stone fireplace, the crackling of charred mesquite wood accompanying the dulcet tones of Elvis on the turntable. A fresh pine tree stood in the corner opposite a set of bookshelves, its white lights and a row of candles on the mantlepiece casting a soft glow across the lounge.

By next year, they would have to re-think the room's layout as the shelves were almost out of space. They had transferred all of their old books, records and tapes when they moved in – two poetry books in particular taking pride of place – which now sat alongside newly purchased or gifted titles from the likes of Fernando Vallejo, E.M. Forster, John Rechy, Gloria E. Anzaldúa, Alejo Durán, Linda Ronstadt, K.D. Lang, Vicente Fernández, Walt Whitman, Pedro Almodóvar and Gregg Araki. And no doubt there would be further additions to their collection on Christmas Day.

Luna was the sole canine guest tonight, her bond with Horacio somehow stronger again since Kira’s and Fuego’s arrival. Sol and Leo had grown increasingly fond of their new playmates in the last few months, so it was often the three of them in the cottage nowadays. Horacio hadn’t discussed it with Chucho, but he hoped she would stay with them permanently – and see out her retirement years – once the new cattle were in place.

She lay in her favourite chair, fast asleep with her head on the armrest and oblivious to their return home beyond a drowsy wag of the tail, before resuming her dreams.

“You had a good day, then?” Javier asked from the comfort of Horacio’s shoulder, their arms wrapped around each other as they gently swayed to the music.

Horacio let out a contented hum of approval, burying himself against Javier’s shirt, breathing all of him in. “It was perfect.”

“It was.”

“Although…I think there’s one thing missing.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“Your present.”

Javier’s chest shook, and something that sounded remarkably like “You fucker” was sworn against the crook of Horacio’s neck, followed by a sharp nip of the teeth.

“It’s only fair.” Horacio tried to keep an authoritative edge to his tone. But it was far from convincing when he ended up laughing as much as Javier.

“Actually…it’s only fair if you wear your hat too.” Another neck bite, accompanied this time by a trail of kisses along the open collar of Horacio’s red plaid shirt, shoving the bandana aside for easier access. “Deal?”

Horacio’s back arched involuntarily, the rumble threatening to escape from his throat tempered into an elongated sigh instead. Not much of a win, but he’d take it. “Deal.”

And so Javier fetched the Stetsons from the coat hook in the hallway whilst Horacio switched records once Elvis had finished.

Javier lowered Horacio’s hat into place, encouraging Horacio to do the same with his.

“Satisfied?” Javier asked once they resumed their embrace, the cumbia beats of Lucho Bermúdez now replacing Elvis.

Horacio’s fingers slid from Javier’s waist to the belt loops of his jeans, pulling him forward until their lips met and the brims of their hats jutted together. “I am now…cowboy.”

They let another vinyl play before undressing, every movement sensual and considered as they removed boots and unbuckled belts between slow, thorough kisses. With hats relegated to the couch for now, Javier untied the silk bandana from Horacio’s neck, teasing smooth fabric along the nape and tossing it to the floor, revealing faded tan lines from the unforgiving summer months. Buttons from their plaid shirts were next, followed by jeans and underwear, chestnut lost in charcoal as they stood bare in each other’s arms but for the silver and gold pendants.

Neither felt the need to give into temptation, not yet, at least. Instead, they put on another record and danced, hand in hand, skin against skin, soul against soul. Because they were never in a rush anymore; now they had all the time in the world. Now they were home.

#Narcos fic #Narcos #Javier Peña #Horacio Carrillo #Carrillo #Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo #Pedro Pascal #Maurice Compte #Narcos fanfic #Narcos fanfiction #Narcos fan fic #My Fan Fic #My Narcos Fic

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