Even Though It Hurts, This Is Absolutely Beautiful!

Even though it hurts, this is absolutely beautiful! 😭❤️

... And Nowhere to Hide feat. Frankie Morales & f!reader

Summary: An alternate ending to All Pent Up & No Where to Go in which Frankie really blows it. To find out where this all started, start with that fic.

Pairing: Frankie & Mouse | Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI) | Word Count: 3,190

PLEASE READ BEFORE CONTINUING Content Warnings: could be viewed as DDDNE, toxic relationship, alcoholism, broken relationship, domestic violence [not overt but could be viewed as such], hurt, drunk driving [don't do it!], ending of a relationship, body insecurity, adultery, cheating, there are no happy endings in real life bub.

Author's Notes: Even though this is an AU ending to All Pent Up & Nowhere to Go, I'm seeing this as the end of Frankie & Mouse. The original ending to that fic always felt like it didn't fit right and now that I am moving on from writing weight fics, this seemed like the right OTP to torpedo. I'm not sorry but I hope you'll forgive this beef anyway.

Thank you to @strang3lov3 for brainstorming this with me, and to @bitchesuntitled, @mothandpidgeon and @neverwheremoonchildfor their eyes and love.

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“That’s why you had to hide it then, huh?”, he yelled again, this time, sadness and hurt clearly in his voice. He didn’t know how to tell you the deep hurt he felt, thinking you were hiding seeking pleasure on your own from him; thinking you didn't want him anymore and could replace him with a fucking vibrator, “Wait till I’m not home and then fuck yourself? Don’t need me anymore?” 

You saw his body language show more than his words could say. He was hurting and had been hurting for a while. You had no clue that he was making this whole big change for you, and now you’d basically told him that after all that hard work, you’d replaced him. No, you had no idea what was running through his head. All you knew was that you were tired of being rebuffed and ignored and wanted to give yourself some much needed pleasure and release and he was mad at you for it. 

“How fucking dare you! You barely even look at me anymore – let alone touch me – and you want to give me shit for wanting to - to feel good?”, you yelled back, standing up from the bed. His face fell and his big brown eyes widened. Your emotions were getting the better of you, and you could feel the hot tears begin to flood your eyes. Your voice cracked. “What is happening, Frankie? Talk to me!” 

He said nothing. He just turned and hurried out of the room, and you heard the back door slam shut and the garage door open. You waited to hear the truck start, but nothing came. You grabbed your things from the bathroom and bedroom and settled into the guest room. 

*****

Frankie stormed out of the house, slamming the door as hard as he could on the way out. He ripped the door to his truck open and got in, choosing to forgo  buckling his seatbelt as he pulled out of the driveway. 

How could you? How could you just lay on your shared bed, looking so beautiful and untouchable while you made yourself feel so good. Without him. He tried to forget how sad your eyes were as you pulled back your hand after his rejection. His pride wouldn’t let him linger on that because his pride was not going to let him turn the truck around and throw himself at your feet, begging for forgiveness. 

He pulled up to the regular bar the group would all hang out at, and sat for a moment. Frankie pulled out his phone, expecting to see missed calls, but all that showed up on his screen was the alert from their doorbell cam, announcing his departure. 

His heart ached. He was getting healthier and back in shape and he should be happier. But he wasn’t. He was feeling worse about everything and drinking more to offset it, and even if he didn’t want to acknowledge it, a small part of him knew that this was all on him, not on you.

He wanted so badly for you to give him a sign, anything, to come back to the house and make it right. He told himself he didn’t want to go to the bar again and drink until his broken soul was numb and he knew by being here again, he was putting another nail in your relationship’s coffin.  His fingers twitched on the steering wheel, as if to let him know the bar was just right there - all he had to do was go in and he could forget all of this, at least for the night. Frankie didn’t know how long he’d sat there, but he was brought back to reality as a loud group of people exited the bar to smoke. He sighed, biting back the sick feeling making his skin feel wrong, and went into the bar. 

****

Frankie was downing his third beer when a hand came onto his shoulder.

“No Mouse?”

Frankie looked up and saw Natalie, one of Santi’s previous conquests, looking back at him. He cleared his throat and shook his head, looking back down at his beer. “No.”

He heard her pull the stool next to his out and moved it closer to him. “Trouble at home?”, she asked, sitting down. He could feel how warm her body was against his, making the ache in his chest feel deeper, reminding him that he was here and you weren’t.

“I-uh..”, he cleared his throat again. “It’s not been great.”

Her hand came up and sympathetically rubbed on his. “I’m sorry to hear that, Frankie.”

He nodded, eyeing her, then took another sip of beer.

“Well, you look great.”, she says a little too enthusiastically for Frankie, and he only sighed in response. 

“Look, Natalie. I’m not gonna be great company. I just wanna cool down before I go back home and… and…”, he dropped his head in his hands. “I don’t fucking know what I’m gonna do. I don’t know how to-”

“Frankie.”, Natalie interjected. “You don’t have to explain anything to me. It’s pretty clear what’s going on.”

He looked up at her, brows furrowed in confusion. “You’re doing something for yourself, to make yourself feel better, and Mouse isn’t happy.”

Frankie wanted to correct her. He wanted to tell her that it was on him, that he was doing this for you and he felt like shit, and he wanted nothing more than to go home and hold the most important person in the world to him - you. 

But he didn’t. Instead, he accepted the shots Natalie ordered, and let her say horrible, untrue things about you, all because he was getting his ego stroked. 

So he said nothing, just nodded along. He didn’t put his barriers up and tell her to move her chair away. He didn’t stop her hands from touching him. He didn’t stop her from crawling on his lap, and he didn’t stop her when she kissed him.

Worst of all, he didn’t stop himself from taking her to his truck and doing everything he’d wanted to do with you to Natalie in the backseat.

*****

Natalie was still in the backseat of his truck, pulling her bra back on and Frankie was drinking down the two day old, open bottle of Gatorade to wash the taste of her out of his mouth. 

Frankie’s head was swimming. The alcohol was working its way through his system.

The dread that washed over him was sobering for a moment as he put the lid back on the bottle and caught a glimpse of Natalie in a rearview mirror, warm soft light from the street lamps illuminating her silhouette. She smiled up at him and crawled into the front seat.

“I was thinking-”

“No.”, Frankie said, sharper than he intended, shaking his head and feeling the alcohol swirl his vision. His tone softened, “This shouldn’t have happened.”

There was silence from the seat next to him. He couldn’t bring himself to face her, so he slurred in a harsh whisper again, “This shouldn’t have happened.”

There was the sound of a sharp breath followed by, “Are you fucking serious?”

“Natalie, I-”

“Are you fucking serious, Morales?” Natalie’s words were accentuated with a slightly drunken lilt and cold laughter. “Oh my god!”

He growled and looked up at her angrily. “What did you fucking expect?”

“That you’d be done with that little fuckwit and wake up!”

Frankie stared at Natalie, aghast and trying to fight the alcohol in his system and find the right words to shut her down, but she was quicker.

“Look what she did to you! Your little feeder is mad you won’t eat and kicks you out!”

Frankie sat with his mouth slightly agape. He knew that was not what happened but he couldn’t spit it out.

“Oh come on, Frankie!”, she scoffed in a laugh. “I’ve known you for how long? And since you’ve been with her, you got fat. Like fucking fat! She made you fat because she’s a freak and who fucking knows why you put up with it!”

“Get the fuck out.” His soft tone was menacing.

“Or what?”, she challenged him, her drunkenness emboldening her. “You can’t go back to that. I won’t let you, Frankie. She doesn’t deserve you! I can’t just let you go back to someone who asks to be called ‘Mouse’ over her real name! There’s something wrong with her and she needs help, acting like this is healthy to do this to you. You have to see-”

“I am doing this for her!”, Frankie shouted, cutting Natalie off. His eyes had softened and were now pleading and his voice dropped to a lower volume. “I’m doing this for her.”

“Frankie, I ca - you don’t have to defend her. I get it, and I want to help -”

“Just get out.”

Frankie’s drive from the bar was - in short - chaotic. He’d stopped at a corner store and picked up a case of beer, then drove out to a quiet look out, downing one right another the other.

He tried to drown the heavy lump of dread as he watched the sky lighten. Something told him could find a way to fix this if he could think of the right words to say to you, and if he could get the water in the shower hot enough, he could scrub Natalie from his skin like it never happened. 

The drive to your shared house was confusing. The street signs were unreadable through his tears and beer fueled haze and his stomach felt nauseous from the smell of Natalie permeating the truck cab. He couldn’t remember what colour meant stop or go, so he just drove by muscle memory alone.

*****

You’d tossed and turned all night long, unable to get comfortable. Any time you found yourself finally drifting off to sleep, the pangs of anxiety reverberated in your body, making your limbs ache and your skin feel too hot and too cold simultaneously. 

The light coming in from the window told you it was very early in the morning. The dredges of sleeplessness made your body feel heavy, making getting out of bed that much harder when you heard Frankie’s truck pull up.

As you padded down the hallway, you heard the back door open and Frankie’s heavy footsteps on the mudroom floor. You turned the corner into the kitchen and watch as he toed his boots off, looking slightly unsteady on his feet. The hair popping out from around his hat seemed more mussed and his clothing looked like he’d slept in them. He was clearly drunk and you were furious with him for driving home like that. It wasn’t the first time he’d done it as of late, and it wasn’t the first time he’d come home with his tail between his legs, drunk and pleading.

“Are you drunk?”

Your harshly spoken words cut through the heavy silence and Frankie looked up at you, eyes weary and desperate.

“Mouse - baby…” 

His words were slurred and desperate, and his voice was rough and sounded like he was in pain. He turned his body facing you and you saw that his lips looked reddened and worried and something on his neck. It was a hickey or bite mark, framed with a hint of red lipstick. Realization washed over you and you felt sick. 

Frankie reached out a hand to you, watching your face fall and pull away from him. “Baby, no, please!”

“What did you do…” Your words came out in a broken whisper and Frankie lumbered towards you, reaching out. Instead of falling into his hold, you shook your head and turned away towards your bedroom. 

“MOUSE!”

The volume at which he yelled your name made you stop in your tracks and turn around, and what you saw made your stomach churn. Frankie’s fists were clenched by his sides and he was breathing hard. His whole body seemed to be tense, like a snake would coil up before it striked, and his face was twisted in anguish and rage.

You froze. This was not your Frankie - it was just Frankie, drunk and looking the way he’d described his dad. You watched in abject horror as he moved towards you, and both of you stared into the other’s eyes.

Frankie broke the connection first with a sharp sob followed by his voice cracking with his slurred words. “Don’t look at me like that! Please, Mouse - I can explain, baby!”

You shook your head, face twisting in hurt, confusion and anger. You couldn’t keep going through the cycle of fighting, Frankie getting drunk  and having to bear the brunt of it. You stood your ground, yelling back at him, “You’re fucking drunk again - I don’t want to hear it -”

Frankie shook his head. “Just fucking listen to me!”

You couldn’t hold back the tears any longer and sobbed, “Get out!”

Natalie’s words about how you were the villain were leaching into his mind, peeling back the rational thought and fueling the insecurities he carried. You were the one who did this to him. You were the one who was forcing him to change. Everyone else could see it - why couldn’t you? You deserved what he did because now you knew how he felt every time you went out in public and other men’s eyes danced over your body and he just had to sit back like a cuck and let it happen. 

His breathing was growing rapid, and his eyes were fixed on you like a bull seeing red. As you turned to go into your room, Frankie lunged forward and reached out, grabbing your arm. He yanked you away from the bedroom door. 

“Don’t you EVER walk away from me when I am talking to you!”

“Let go! You’re hurting m - “

“You don’t get to to tell me when to leave my house!”

“Frankie! Stop it!”

You pushed him back and turned around, but his arms came around your waist, pulling you back into him. His hot, beer soaked breath painted the side of your neck and face.

“Mouse! I just-I just wanna talk… that’s all, baby.. I love you and i don’t wanna let you go-.”

He was cut off by your elbowing his abdomen, and it gave you a chance to get away from him. You ran into your room and slammed the door and locked, then stood back and watched the door shake from Frankie’s fists pounding on the other side. 

Grabbing your phone, you dialed the only number your trembling hands could.

Will answered his phone groggily and all he heard was your panicked crying and Frankie screaming in the background. 

*****

The morning was a blur. Will arrived with Benny quicker than you could have hoped for. Will and Benny had finally managed to drag Frankie from the house and out into the detached garage, but just barely. Based on the damage he’s inflicted on his friends who were trying to help, Benny was scared shitless as to what he would find on the other side of your bedroom door.

You’d finally opened the bedroom door when you’d made Benny promise that Will would keep Frankie out of the house. As soon as he was in the room with you, Benny’s concern had him kneeling on the floor in front of you, asking over and over if you were okay… if Frankie had hit you… if you were hurt… and each question, you could only shake your head. The reality of the situation was settling in, knowing this was not something you could just come back from easily and Benny held you as you cried.

Will had called Santi over to keep Frankie in place in the garage. The last thing he wanted was for him to get back into the house and see that Benny was helping you pack enough of your stuff to tie you over for a few days. 

Santi went into the house to get some water and found you standing at the kitchen table, wiping your eyes as you packed some important paperwork you weren’t sure you wanted to leave behind. He had no idea what to say, so Santi said nothing. 

He grabbed a cup from the cupboard and the pitcher of water from the fridge, leaving you in silence. 

*****

You’d left that day and moved in with Benny and his two cats - Butter and Bagels. Frankie’s infidelity had come fully to light with Natalie laying it all out for Santi and then Frankie confirmed it all, solidifying your choice to leave.

The break up had affected every part of the group, and while you assumed that you were in the right for walking away, Will shocked you when he told you to forgive and get back with Frankie.

“You don’t get it. Honey, I know he fucked up, but you’re better than that. You want loyalty, you have to be loyal, Mouse.”, he’d said sternly to you from across the table at a Denny’s. “You don’t leave a man when he’s down, and Frankie has seen some shit. You belong together, Mouse. You know that!”

It was a given that when you told Benny what Will had said, he drove straight to his house, barged in and punched Will square in the face, breaking his nose. 

Santi had sent you a bullshit text telling you that while he was sorry for what happened, Frankie was his brother and he needed to stand with him. He wished you well and said he’d be around if you needed anything. You angrily toyed with the idea of sending a curse-laden response, but instead just blocked his number and deleted the message. 

It had taken six months for you to begin to feel like yourself again. You’d joined a social group in the apartment complex and made a few acquaintances in the laundry room. You’d even switched to a new department at the accounting firm, allowing you to work from home.

Home. You had a home again. Benny’s apartment was finally home for you and you were cautiously optimistic for your future. 

The bar you’d frequented with the group was now considered non-existent to you. Benny even vowed to not darken its doorway in solidarity, so the two of you had found a new dive to hang out in. 

It was a little further out of the way, but it was quieter, and less of a bar and more of an all-night bistro. It didn’t hurt that the bartender there was easy on the eyes, what with his shorter hair, the small offset blonde patch in the front and his jewel-toned southern drawl crackling light lightning across the bar. 

You hadn’t gotten the courage to speak to him, let alone hold eye contact. At least not until one evening, you’d bravely wandered in - sand Benny - and sat at the bar instead of the booth you normally did.

The bartender turned around and put his weight on the counter, leaning slightly towards you, and with his cheshire grin, he asked, 

“And what can I get for you, little bird?”

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Ack! I got so excited to see an update for this 😍

The way Joel was so bashful and shy had me grinning and then Javi taking charge 😮‍💨🫠

baby, i'm-a want you — (ch 3) "session three"

gif by me

pairing: javier peña/joel miller rating: E (18+) mdni word count: 4k content: flirty!javi strikes again, as does shy!joel, seriously they're dorks and it's disgusting(ly adorable), one (1) handjob, anal fingering, emotional sex, unprotected p in a, fucktons of lube, if i missed anything else lmk! dividers: @saradika-graphics beta: @qveerthe0ry ♥

series summary: javier peña has been doing this a long time. he's really good at his job. joel miller? not so much. he started doing this to get some extra cash to support his daughters. what happens when they're supposed to do a scene together? aka, the au where javier and joel are gay porn stars~

a/n: apologies for taking so long updating this sdfglkjhdfg but the babies have returned! hopefully the last part will come sooner ♥

series masterlist | main masterlist

for updates, follow @oakslibrary and turn on notifications ♥

It was a little last minute, but Joel did his best with what little wiggle room he gave himself. The closest place to the studio, that he could confidently bring Javier to without embarrassing himself, was this nice little local place. It was owned by an old couple that were close with his parents, and their kids took over. Joel was a bit of a regular, but he hadn’t been in a while.

They decided to drive separately since it was a first date – a date, Jesus Christ, help him – and Joel didn’t want to make it seem like he expected anything from Javier.

Joel got there first, and got them a table. His eyes scanned the menu he practically knew by heart, but he wasn’t reading any of it. Blood rushed in his ears and his heart thundered in his chest. He was so god damn nervous.

“Can I get you something to drink while you wait for your guest, sir?”

Joel jumped in his seat, startled, and looked at the young waitress – must be a new hire – an embarrassed flush on his cheeks. “Um, y-yeah. Thanks,” he cleared his throat and set the menu down. “Just some water, please.”

She nodded and took off toward the kitchen. Joel exhaled a heavy breath and shut his eyes, trying to calm himself down. 

“You okay?” Javier asked easily, taking his seat in the booth across from Joel.

“Christ–” Joel startled. “Gonna get a heart attack one of these days,” he mumbled to himself.

“What was that?” Javier chuckled, resting a new cigarette on his right ear.

“Nothin’,” grumbled Joel. “Uh, glad you made it.”

“Thank you for inviting me,” Javier smiled. “Have you ordered yet?” “Jus’ some water,” he mumbled, right as the waitress set his glass down on the table.

“Can I get you anything, sir?” She smiled politely.

“I’ll take a beer, sweetheart,” Javier winked. The young girl blushed and nodded jerkily, speeding off to get his drink.

Joel watched quietly, a part of him jealous, and the other amused. Javier didn’t really flirt with him much, but he guessed it made sense since Javi thought Joel hated him before a couple of hours ago. He wiped his sweaty palms onto his jean-clad thighs and sighed softly.

“S-so, um. Jus’ wanted to apologize again for, uh,” he blinked, fumbling for the right words. “Y’know–”

“Joel,” Javi chuckled. “Seriously, it’s okay. We’re good now,” he smiled gently.

Joel smiled shyly and nodded, relieved. “‘m glad to hear that.”

Javi grinned wolfishly and rested his chin on the palm of his hand as he got comfy in his seat. “Don’t tell me you’re nervous, Joel,” he teased. “Big, scary Joel is nervous because of little ol’ me?” He smirked.

Joel made a face, almost like he was going to fight it, but decided not to. That sort of reaction is what made this hard in the first place. “Well,” he started. “Yeah. You’re… You’re a real catch, Javier. And, well, I’m… me,” he shrugged awkwardly.

Javi blinked, and opened his mouth to respond, but the waitress came back before he could say anything. 

“Your beer,” she said. “Would you gentlemen like to order?”

As Joel told her what he’d be having, none of the words sunk in for Javi. He wasn’t really paying attention, too focused on a mole on the left side of Joel’s neck. He wanted to nibble on it.

“And you, sir?” Javi snapped out of it and blinked, looking down at his unopened menu. “Uhh, I’ll have the same,” he smiled politely.

When it was just the two of them again, Javi took a drink of his beer before saying, “Joel, do you think that you’re not also a catch? God,” he groaned, adjusting how he sat a little, his ass still sore from earlier. “I’m gonna be feelin’ you for days, guapo.”

Joel blushed hard, his eyes going wide. “O-oh, well, I–”

“I’ve been wanting to work with you again for a while, Joel,” he said seriously, making a point of checking the older man out shamelessly. 

Joel blinked. “You have?”

Javier snorted and took another drink off his beer. “Yeah, are you kidding me? God, the scene you filmed with Dave? I didn’t think he bottomed for anyone.”

Joel was sharing a striking resemblance to a tomato right now and Javi thought it was adorable. “Um, well,” he gulped. “M-Max said the– the viewers? They really only like seein’ me one way, so,” he shrugged.

Javi rolled his eyes, and laughed lightly. “I know how that is,” he nodded. The waitress set their plates in front of them and wished them a good meal. They gave her their thanks, and Joel started digging in, trying to keep his hands occupied. “Part of the reason I agreed to do our scene,” Javi continued. “And I’d get to do it with you.”

“How do you do that?” Joel chuckled, the tips of his ears red.

“Do what, guapo?” Javi hummed, taking his fork and stabbing it into his food to take a bite.

“That,” Joel stressed, eyes glued to Javier’s mustache as he chewed. His thoughts drifted back to when it was wrapped around his cock and he had to adjust himself under the table. “Flirt.”

Javier shrugged, as if it was the easiest response in the world. “Just comes naturally to me, I guess. ‘Sides,” he smirked, taking another drink of his beer. “It’s easy to do when you’re on the receiving end,” he winked.

“Christ, Javier,” Joel laughed nervously, covering his eyes with one of his hands. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Javi chuckled. “Force of habit.” A comfortable silence settled over the two of them as they ate their matching meals. Joel had an adorable little smile and pink cheeks as he cut the meat on his plate. “Y’know,” Javier started. “I haven’t been wined and dined in a long time. Usually just have casual hookups.”

Joel made a face at that, chewing his food thoughtfully. Each hand had a utensil, one knife and one fork, but he set them down and wiped his mouth and hands clean before he spoke. “‘m sorry to hear that. But I won’t be upset at bein’ the one to break that streak,” he said, voice low as he crossed his arms onto the table.

Javi’s face brightened before he laughed softly. “See! You can flirt just fine, guapo.”

Joel grumbled something to himself and scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.

An amused expression crossed Javi’s features. He set down his own fork and gulped down the last of his beer in one swig. “C’mon. Let’s get outta here, yeah?”

Joel blinked, looking up at Javi as he stood next to the table. “B-but–”

Javier gave Joel a suggestive look and licked his lips. “Let’s get out of here, Joel,” he grinned, eyes traveling down to the bulge in Joel’s jeans.

Cheeks flushed and eyes wide, Joel clumsily made his way to the register at the front and paid for their meals.

Joel grunted, moaning into Javier’s mouth as he was pressed to the door of Javier’s apartment. Javier kissed him like his life depended on it, and if you asked him, it did.

“Wanna thank you,” Javi breathed, kissing down Joel’s neck until he got to the pulse point at the base of the thick muscle. He kissed his way back up until he latched onto Joel’s jaw, nibbling and sucking on a spot where his beard refused to grow. “Mmm,” he hummed, eyes shut in bliss.

“F-fuck, Javier, I–” Joel gasped, gripping the younger man’s shirt in his rough hands. “W-what for?”

“Takin’ me out,” Javier whispered, sucking Joel’s bottom lip into his mouth as he kissed him deeper. “Fucking me better than anyone else has in months.” He grabbed Joel’s small, plump ass beneath the rough denim and squeezed. He grinded his hard cock against Joel’s, pushing a thin, but muscled thigh between Joel’s legs. “When’s the last time someone got to fuck you, huh? When’s the last time you didn’t have to be in charge?”

Joel’s entire body was on fire, blood rushing south as his cock twitched in interest. He could barely breathe let alone think of a response to such a question. He made a weak noise at the base of his throat and tried pulling back to look at Javier, but the younger man had other plans.

“‘s what I thought,” Javi grinned. Hands gripped onto Joel’s ass, he guided the older man toward his bedroom with his mouth attached to Joel’s neck. He kicked his bedroom door open and gently pushed Joel onto his back on the bed. They tripped a little, causing Joel to bounce when he landed on the bed, and they both chuckled awkwardly. They didn’t mind though, too preoccupied with the task at hand. 

This is what Javier wanted. This is what he’d been craving. A moment alone with Joel with no cameras, no scripts, no Max. Just pure instinct and shared heat. Crawling onto Joel’s lap, he grabbed the older man’s face and kissed him passionately, moaning openly into his mouth.

“Fuck,” he groaned, grinding his cock against Joel’s. “You’re so fucking hot, Joel.”

“J-Javier, please slow down,” Joel gasped. His cock was throbbing beneath the younger man and he was afraid the evening would end sooner than planned. Javier slowed his hips, and chose to kiss all over Joel’s face instead, leaving a peck here and there as Joel caught his breath. “Thank you,” he exhaled, eyes fluttering shut.

Javier smiled and sat up, running his hands over Joel’s strong torso. It was covered by a thin t-shirt, but Javier could see the outline of a strong chest and a soft tummy. He wanted to bury his face in it.

Joel’s bear paws gripped onto Javier’s thighs and squeezed, eyes fluttering open. His cheeks were flushed, but he had a twinkle in his eye that betrayed any doubt either of them may have had. “‘m ready when you are, sweetheart,” Joel smiled, rolling his hips up toward Javier’s.

Javi didn’t need to be told twice. He pushed Joel’s t-shirt up until it was bunched up under his armpits. His hands groped and squeezed at Joel’s pecs as he kissed between them, making his way down to that hairy, soft tummy. “Fuck,” he groaned, kissing and sucking along the smooth skin.

Joel’s hips bucked and his body trembled under Javi’s ministrations, unable to hold back what they were doing to him. “Sweetheart, please,” he grunted, tugging on the collar of the polo Javier was wearing. “‘m not gonna make it if you keep that up,” he chuckled breathlessly.

“Alright,” Javier smirked, leaned over to give him one more deep kiss. It stole the air from Joel’s lungs and ended quicker than he liked. He slowly stood up from the bed and rifled through the bedside table for his lube. “Do me a favor and get naked for me, will ya?” He grinned, throwing a wink Joel’s way.

Joel snorted, but did as he was told, tossing his clothes onto Javier’s bedroom floor. His cock stood proudly between his thick thighs as he watched Javier get undressed as well. Precum dribbled down the length as his cock twitched. This was nothing new for either of them; having sex, being naked in front of one another. But it was also completely different. There were no stakes, no pressures from anyone else. It felt far more vulnerable than it usually did, less technical.

Javi crawled between Joel’s legs and lifted them, exposing the older man’s hole to him. He hummed in thought at the sight and leaned over to kiss Joel languidly. “Would you be opposed to me fucking your brains out, Joel?” Javi grinned, nibbling on his jaw again.

Joel groaned in response and nodded jerkily, digging his fingers into Javier’s sides. “Please,” he grunted.

”Mm, lie back for me, guapo.”

Joel did as he was told and got comfy, feet planted on the mattress and knees spread. The first touch of Javier’s lube-covered fingertips startled him. It really had been some time since another person did this for him. But not that long since he’d done it himself. Javier’s middle finger swirled around the rim of his hole teasingly as he kissed and sucked along Joel’s neck.

”Got hair everywhere, huh?” Javi smirked, pressing his finger inside past the tight ring of muscle. Joel’s answering moan of pleasure made a chill run down Javier’s spine. “Atta boy,” he praised. It didn’t take long for his ring finger to join the middle one and start fucking into him.

”Oh, fuck,” Joel groaned, back arching off the bed. His head was pressed to the pillow, the sweat already starting to trickle down the side. He could feel the tension leaving his body as Javier’s fingers fucked him lewdly, the wet squelch filling the room. 

“Oh, I know,” Javi pouted, his tone saccharine sweet. “Been a long time since someone took care of you, huh?” Joel nodded and bit his lip, eyebrows turned down in pleasure. “But this isn’t what you want, is it?”

Joel grunted in response, the precum from his cock trickling down his stomach, and fingers gripping the sheets so tightly he was afraid he’d rip them.

”No, you want to be fucked, huh? Want a cock so deep inside that you forget your own name, right?” Javier’s mouth was just as filthy as the rest of him and it was making Joel blush all the way down to his chest. “It’s okay, you don’t have to say anything, baby. I’ll take care of you,” he whispered, latching onto Joel’s earlobe and nibbling softly.

Javier’s fingers continued to fuck him for a few more minutes before they were removed, a lewd suck signifying their release. Joel shut his eyes and groaned, turning his head into the pillow. Javier cupped his face and kissed him with so much more emotion than he was used to. He wasn’t sure what he did to be on the receiving end of this Javier but he wasn’t going to question it.

”Breathe for me, baby,” Javi hummed, knee-walking between Joel’s legs. His fingers curled around his cock as he covered it in lube. Joel nodded, eyes half-lidded in pleasure as he watched the younger man.

Joel’s eyes traveled down Javier’s slim torso until they landed on the thick cock between his legs. He was mesmerized by the head appearing and disappearing beneath the foreskin as Javier stroked himself, and it made him shiver.

Javier drizzled some extra lube onto Joel’s rim before rubbing the head of his cock there teasingly. Joel grunted at the feeling, his cock twitching. Javier chuckled darkly, tapping the head of his cock against the tight rim. Joel clenched around nothing, the anticipation starting to kill him.

Joel was so caught up in the moment that he couldn’t even stop it before it happened. His hips bucked and his bent knee jerked so hard he hit Javi’s chin with it. “F-fuck, I’m so sorry–”

Javier was laughing, thankfully, but he rubbed his chin to soothe the mild burn. “You’re lucky you’re so cute, Miller,” he winked. Joel groaned and covered his face with his hands in embarrassment. He was a fucking professional porn star and he couldn’t even have normal sex. What was wrong with him?

”Shh,” Javier soothed. “C’mere,” he hummed before slowly taking Joel’s hands away from his face. Joel’s eyes were glued to the center of Javier’s chest, refusing to make eye contact. “Hey,” he smiled softly.

Joel blinked up at him and bit his lip. “‘m sorry, Javier…”

Javier grinned and leaned over, kissing Joel’s lips languidly. They stayed there for a while, Javier holding Joel’s face as he stayed between the older man’s legs. Eventually, Joel’s heart rate evened out and he could breathe steadily again. “I’m okay. Are you?” He asked softly.

Joel nodded, shutting his eyes briefly to take a deep breath. “‘m alright,” he smiled shyly.

“Good,” Javier grinned, slowly pushed inside, and the air left Joel’s lungs. The older man’s toes started to curl and his back arched off the bed. Javier smiled and laced his fingers with Joel’s, pressing them against the bed.

Hovering over him, Javier kissed him sweetly, slowly, letting Joel get used to being filled again. Joel made a weak noise into Javier’s mouth as his legs wrapped around Javier’s thin waist. “Please, move,” he breathed, eyes glossy and face flushed.

Javier nodded, latching his mouth back onto Joel’s, fucking into him slowly. Joel had expected their first time alone to be hot and fast and passionate, but he thinks he prefers this much more. Javier fucked him with so much attention and tenderness that he almost cried trying to remember the last time someone did this for him.

The pace Javier had set was deep and steady, the rhythmic slapping of skin against skin unmistakeable in the quiet room, but if anyone were to walk in on them, they would see something entirely different. “You feel so good, Joel,” Javier panted between kisses.

Joel moaned in response, squeezing Javier’s hands in his own. “So do you,” he breathed. His free hand wrapped around the younger man’s neck. He dug blunt fingernails into Javier’s back, the stretch feeling so foreign but so good that it overwhelmed him.

Javier shivered as the pleasure-pain from Joel’s fingernails shot down his spine and settled at the base. His cock twitched hard inside the older man. “Fuck, Joel,” he groaned, his balls drawing up and slapping loudly against Joel’s ass.

“‘m close, Javi,” Joel panted, face flushed and sweaty, brows furrowed in concentration.

A wide smile crossed Javier’s features. “You called me Javi,” he chuckled, picking up the pace slightly. “You want me to come inside you?”

Joel nodded quickly, the throbbing in his cock flooding all thoughts. “P-please,” he breathed weakly. 

“Only if you come with me, guapo,”  Javier groaned, letting go of Joel’s hands to grip his hips. He picked up the pace, fucking into Joel harder and faster the closer he got. Joel’s body stilled and he moaned out loud when the tip of Javi’s cock brushed against his prostate. “Ooh, did I find it?” Javier smirked. He lifted a knee and planted one foot on the mattress to get a better angle. “C’mon, baby. C’mon.”

Joel’s back arched high off the mattress as Javier continued his brutal pace. He curled his fingers around his own cock and started pumping hard, squeezing around the shaft. 

“Fuck,” Javi moaned, eyes locked on Joel’s big hand. “You’re so fucking hot, Joel. Come for me.”

Joel’s legs trembled on either side of the younger man’s hips before he stilled, coming hard all over his stomach and hand. Javier fucked him through it, his hips following the waves of Joel’s orgasm. It didn’t take long for him after that, his hips slapping against him without rhythm with his release. He came in thick ropes and with a shaky breath.

Joel moaned weakly at the feeling, his heart pounding and fluttering in his chest when Javier kissed him again. Javi kissed with so much passion.

They breathed heavily as they came down from their high, Javier’s forehead pressed to Joel’s. “Mmm,” Javier hummed, a smile on his face. “You’re amazing, Joel.”

“Look who’s talkin’,” Joel grunted, eyes shut and chest heaving. Javier laughed and pecked his cheek before pulling out carefully. They both moaned at the feeling. Javier cleaned them both up gently and pulled Joel down onto his chest, rubbing his bare back comfortingly.

”We should do this again sometime,” he said softly, a grin on his tired face. Joel hummed in response, cuddling close to him and squeezing. 

Before either of them knew it, Joel was passed out, snoring softly into Javier’s chest. Javier snorted and kissed the top of Joel’s head.

”Night, guapo.”

Joel felt… lighter. And sore.

When he opened his eyes, he groaned at how bright it was, forcing him to shut his eyes tightly. Then, once his eyes had adjusted, he noticed the painting of a field at sunset next to the window. He didn’t have that… 

He blinked, the memories from the night before came flooding back and his cock twitched under the sheets. His body felt heavy and he smiled, looking over to the side, but frowned when he saw it was empty. Where was Javier?

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Javier rumbled, voice thick with sleep. He walked into the bedroom with a mug in one hand and a cigarette in the other. He was only in a pair of boxer briefs as he made his way over to the window next to the painting. Joel’s eyes were glued to every one of his movements.

“Mornin’,” Joel said softly.

Javier set the mug on the windowsill and opened it, taking a seat next to the mug. He lit up, indulging in his morning routine. “How you feelin’ this morning, guapo?” Javi smirked, breathing out a plume of smoke.

“Sore,” Joel chuckled, rubbing his eyes clear of any remaining sleep. “But… good.”

“Glad to hear it,” Javi hummed, taking a sip of his coffee. “There’s more if you want some,” he said, lifting his mug.

“I’d love some coffee,” he groaned, pulling the sheets off. Javier raised a brow and smirked appreciatively, watching Joel’s bare ass as he looked for his underwear. He shivered as the tight material snapped onto Joel’s smooth skin. 

Joel left the room briefly, and came back with his own steaming cup of coffee. He sat on the corner of the bed closest to Javier and they enjoyed their drinks in comfortable silence.

“So,” Joel started. “What now?”

“Already asking me what we are?” Javier chuckled teasingly. Joel gave him a look, both hands gripping the mug. “Okay, alright. Do we have to put a label on it yet?”

“Don’t s’pose we do, no…” Joel mumbled, taking another sip. 

“But you’d like to.”

Joel shrugged. “No, it’s alright, I just… I’ve, uh,” he gulped. “I’ve sorta had a thing for you for a couple’a years now. Jus’... Didn’t exactly picture this happenin’.”

Javier smiled, watching the journey on Joel’s face. “Is that right?”

Joel just nodded, looking down onto the carpeted floor, his toes digging in.

“You’re adorable,” Javier chuckled, setting his mug down and tossing the remaining part of his cigarette into it. He took Joel’s mug from his hand and set it down next to his own. 

“I dunno about that, I–”

“Shut up, Joel,” Javier whispered, leaning over to kiss him deeply. Joel melted, kissing back and pulling Javier to sit on his lap. Javier dug his fingers into Joel’s messy, post-sex curls and tugged a little, making the older man groan into his mouth.

“Jav,” Joel breathed between kisses.

“Mmm, new nickname,” Javier grinned, kissing and nibbling along Joel’s jaw. The hair scattered there tasted like sweat and it made Javi shiver. 

“Javi.”

Javier pulled away, a little out of breath, and eyes wild with determination. “I like you, Joel. A lot,” he paused, arms resting on Joel’s broad shoulders. “We can start here,” he hummed, kissing Joel’s cheek and slowly making his way down to his neck. “Maybe try a few things,” he kissed Joel's chest and flicked his tongue over a nipple. He pushed the older man onto his back, slowly sliding down Joel’s body. “And just see where it goes from there. Yeah?”

Joel exhaled a heavy sigh, his cock twitching with interest the lower Javier went. He made his way to Joel’s stomach and sucked a mark there. Joel watched, big hands tangled through Javier’s thick locks. “Yeah,” he sighed, the cool morning air hitting his heated cock once it was exposed again. Javier tossed his underwear to the floor and kissed along his inner thighs.

“Good,” Javier hummed, eyes locked on Joel’s as that sinful mouth wrapped around the head of his cock, that mustache framing the girth perfectly.

Joel moaned, shutting his eyes as his back arched off the bed.

👀😳🫠😍

This was just the thing I needed to read!

Quickie

Prompt #423 “This is so wrong.” / “I know. And I love it.”

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader

Summary: You and Frankie have to hurry before your mom gets home.

Warnings: explicit smut, creampie, step dad!frankie WC: 555

a/n: Today's prompt fill! It's pure porn lol. Unedited, as usual.

Frankie Morales Masterlist | Main Masterlist | AO3 | Kofi | Prompt Fills

“This is so wrong,” Frankie whispers against your mouth. 

“I know. And I love it.” 

You press your mouth back into Frankie’s, your hands finding his belt in between you and unfastening it. You slip your hands into his boxers, fingers closing around his already hard cock. 

“Your mom could come back any second,” Frankie mutters, but his hands slip underneath your shirt anyway. You bite down on his lip before pulling back just slightly. 

“Better be quick, then.” 

He grabs your hips and turns you around, bending you over the kitchen table. He yanks your pants down, two of his thick fingers slipping between your soaked folds. 

“Fuck, papi, please,” you whine.

“Please what, hermosa?” 

“More. Please.” 

Frankie presses two fingers into you, stroking your walls and stretching you out to take his cock. You moan and push back into him, practically riding his fingers. 

“I’m sorry, baby girl, I can’t wait any longer,” Frankie groans, removing his fingers from you and lining himself up with your cunt. 

“It’s okay, papi. Please. Need you,” you pant. You drop your forehead to the table and push your ass back toward him, trying to take him inside you. 

Frankie pushes into you slowly, giving you time to adjust to his thickness. You don’t want to wait anymore. You reach behind you and grab his open pants, dragging him into you. Your moan is a broken, strangled thing. It hurts but it feels so fucking good. 

“Fuck, baby girl. Impaciente, no?” 

“Just please fuck me, papi.” 

Frankie draws his hips back slowly, letting you feel every ridge and vein in his cock, before slamming back into you so hard your hips slam into the table. He grips your shoulder in one hand and your hip in the other, pulling you back onto his cock with every thrust. 

You’re trying to hold back from screaming on the off chance your mom comes home, but it’s so hard. Frankie feels so fucking good. You drag his hand off your hip and down between your legs. He takes the hint and starts rubbing your clit in time with his thrusts. 

Your knees nearly buckle, but Frankie wraps his other arm around your torso, holding you steady as he pounds into you. 

“‘M gonna come, papi. Please can I come?” 

“Sí, sí. Come on, baby girl, lemme feel you,” Frankie pants. 

He curls his body over yours as you begin to clench hard around his cock. He groans in your ear, whispering praise and encouragement. You come hard, fingers clawing at the table for purchase as you writhe in pleasure. 

“Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Where?”

“Inside,” you cry out, still riding the wave of pleasure. 

Frankie slams his hips against yours one more time and buries himself deep inside you as he comes with a long moan. 

You hear the garage door opening, ruining any chance you had of relishing this moment. You both scramble to get your clothes back in place. Frankie makes it look like he’s making a snack while you open your laptop at the table and start working on a fic. 

“Hey guys!” Your mom plants a kiss on Frankie’s cheek and sets her purse on the counter. 

You can feel your step dad’s cum leaking out of you as you ask your mom about her day.

@creativepromptfills

This fine piece of art got brought up in a discord server not long ago. When I saw it got reposted I had to make sure to save it so I could read it

🥵

Jett you beautiful soul! I have never wanted a sweaty Javier Peña more than I do right now!

Pump - A Javier Peña One Shot

Summary: A man starts coming into the gym where you work, and you find you can't keep your eyes off him when he starts to pump...

Pairing: Javier Peña x GN!Reader (No name, confirmed sex, age or physical description of reader. It’s you, bub.)

Word Count: 2.6k

Scoville Smut Rating:🌶️ “Don't hurt me, cadejo."

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

Warnings/Triggers: PWP/Javi wearing the tiniest satin shorts ever made/cock outline/possible peek of a ball/very pervy thoughts over a very sweaty Javi 🥵

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ.☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.

I write for me, and I share with you. If this story isn't to your taste, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Author’s Note: I saw this amazing fanart of Javi, and the thots just thotted the fuck out of me... 🫠

MAIN MASTERLIST | JAVIER PEÑA MASTERLIST

Enjoy! 🖤

His visits are the fucking highlight of your day.

You find yourself searching for him as you meander through the gym with an added bounce in your step, stack of laundered towels in hand as you drop them around the equipment like newspapers tossed on garden lawns.

Rows of clunky weightlifting machines stand proudly, their chrome frames gleaming under the dim fluorescent lights.

Tattered, vinyl-covered benches line the perimeter of the room, each one bearing the marks of countless hours of use by sweaty bodies and muscled lunkheads striving for physical perfection.

The sound of heavy metal plates clinking together fills the air as the group of agents, from the local DEA office across the steamed pavement street, load up barbells and dumbbells, their focused expressions a melee of pinched, taut brows and refined muscles.

Despite the seriousness of their profession, the moderately sized gym is a tatty haven where they can unwind and bond over their shared passion for catching dangerous narcos and pumping iron in machismo camaraderie.

The walls in Manny’s Gym are adorned with curled edge motivational posters featuring slogans like No Pain, No Gain and Train Hard, Fight Easy, with iconic muscle men of the current era plastered over them like Arnold Schwarzenegger, Franco Columbu, and Lou Ferrigno, serving as constant reminders of the grit and determination required to succeed in both the gym and the field.

The air is always thick with the unmistakable scent of musky sweat, mingling with the earthy aroma of old leather from well-worn punch bags that hang from the ceiling like dangling scrotums swaying in a pendulous rhythm.

Steamy showers and weak powdery deodorant permeates. It’s a heady concoction that hints at the countless hours of exertion and dedication that's saturated the space.

A scent that you’re all too familiar with and breathe in like starved oxygen.

The wooden floor creaks beneath your sneakers as you make your way further into the gym, the sound echoing off the walls.

As you approach the rows of clunky weightlifting machines, the tangy scent of metal fills your nostrils, accompanied by the faint whiff of oil used to lubricate the gears.

Despite his gruff exterior, Manny himself hosts a warm and welcoming demeanour to the regular gym goers, always ready with a word of encouragement, or a pat on the back for those who train under his roof.

He takes great pride in the sense of community that’s flourished within the gym, fostering a supportive environment where the local Bogotá law and DEA alike choose to pump here.

It’s not exclusive, your regular Joe Sixpack will frequent on occasion, but the familiar faces make it far more easy on the eye as you bask in the array of sweaty limbs on the daily.

They give you wolf-whistles and jeers as you shimmy on by handing out towels and sweat bands with a beaming, enticing smile.

But you don’t pay them no mind when they flirt back and grin with glistening rows of hungry teeth like you’re ripe for the plucking. A juicy peach bobbing in a swamp full of toothless alligators. They're physically respectful despite their obvious leers.

Most of them aren't really your type anyway. Stiff, upper pale bodies with honeyed hair falling in waves; the Americans are all the same Mattel crafted hard plastic.

Whereas you prefer something more dark and velvety rich like Colombian coffee that goes down easy and smooth and leaves a heady aftertaste on your lips.

There's one man in particular you'd like to drink down, whom you’ve noticed coming in a few times in recent weeks.

It’s hard to forget him with those tiny, satin shorts he wears in a stark canary yellow, and riding dangerously high up his lean, caramel thighs.

A break in the tight denim jeans that wrap around his legs when you’ve spied him leaving the gym, freshly clean and dressed after a hard workout, and heading back into the office.

Package stuffed tight up in there, poor thing; the brilliant tightness restricting and choking around that hefty bulge all day.

A neatly trimmed moustache adorns his upper lip, thick and fluffy, adding a touch of rugged charm to his otherwise clean-cut appearance. His standard issue DEA gym t-shirt seems a little on the small side, hugging around his golden biceps and riding skintight across the broadest set of shoulders you’ve ever seen on a man his size; a complete opposing parallel to the trimness of his waist. He’s like an inverted triangle.

It rides up a little over his tiny belly; a galaxy of dark hairs trailing down into his shorts that makes you lick your lips every time your eyes fall onto that hairy column.

His dark brown hair, slicked back slightly and curling on the nape, glistens with sweat, adding to his aura of intensity and focus. He exudes an effortless confidence as he moves from one exercise to the next.

The Latino-looking man focuses on a combination of strength training and cardio, showcasing his versatility and athleticism needed for the job he does.

And you find yourself enthralled in his routine, interrupting yours as you covertly watch him from behind the small desk trying not to flood it with your drool.

He usually starts with a set of heavy deadlifts; the sound of his puffs hissing through his teeth and reverberating through the gym as he lifts with perfect form.

Next, he moves on to explosive plyometric jumps. Clad in those tiny, satin shorts that hug his muscular thighs, his powerful legs propel him effortlessly into the air before landing with precision. You can’t help but watch as the muscles and cords in his thighs ripple with each slam of his soles on the floor.

Throughout his workout, he maintains a steely determination and laser-like focus with punishing chocolate eyes, pushing himself to the limit with each repetition; sweat glistening around his brow and temples and falling in tracks.

Despite the intensity of his workouts, there’s a relaxed confidence in his demeanour, reflected in the easy, fluid movements of his svelte body as he moves through the reps.

You watch his back move and shift, broad shoulder blades folding in and out as they flex under the snug fit of his fading t-shirt. His posture is upright and nonplussed, conveying a sense of self-assurance.

Standing at an average height, his frame is lean, yet powerful, and you can’t help but let your thoughts drift into murky territories as your eyes wander all over him and drink him up like a quenching soda on a sweltering day.

You know very little about him, only hearing his name muttered by the other agents as he addresses them pre-work, out or when they stop mid-way through to discuss, what you can only assume, is the cases they’re working on.

The dusty jukebox in the corner playing the current Billy Idol hit drowns them out somewhat at this distance.

But they call him Peña, or Javi as they sometimes greet him through lazy Spanish chit-chat.

He called you cariño once as he passed, mouthing a good morning to you with little effort.

He speaks with a soft, deep cadence; a gravelled grizzle wrapped around his pert lips, which is almost muted and out of full earshot.

But the one thing that's unmistakably loud and clear, is the grunting that pelts out of him.

Particularly when he does bench presses, or those barbell squats with the large weight resting on his shoulders. A deep, guttural grunt ruts out of him that sets your skin alight and makes your genitals want to break out the pompoms and start cheering his name doing high kicks.

They flow unabashed out of him as he pants and hisses. And you like it when he does those squats the most, watching as he parts his feet steady, and slowly lowers his pert ass down towards the floor, rendering those tiny shorts to almost disappear entirely into the rounded crack of his cheeks.

Fuck...

Javi focuses on his reflection in the mirror, lips curled back under that buoyant dark fluff lining his top lip, and teeth clenched in a snarl as he breathes out and grunts loudly with every push upwards from those strong thighs that tense and quiver.

As you observe him from across the gym, you can't ignore the undeniable attraction you feel towards him as it licks up your spine; it makes you clench and sweat just watching him and the fantastic sex-like faces he makes in the mirror.

His sculpted physique and rugged good looks are certainly appealing, but your eyes betray you and head further south at the constant movement inside his flimsy shorts.

Gaudy in their brightness, you see past them at the way they flout their thinness like they’re almost fucking see-through. You like the tease of how low they sit on his svelte hips. A simple tug and they’ll be round his ankles with ease.

You can make out the perfect outline of his heavy, flaccid cock hanging between his legs. Curves and ridges imprinted against the material like muscle memory. Flopping about so uncouthly as he moves like it’s battering you in the face.

Jesus fucking Christ.

With your task temporarily forgotten and brain slowly sluicing out of your ears, the sight of his cock outlining around the thin satin draws you in further. A third arm beckoning you in. Punching against the material with every movement from his hips as though you're mesmerised and drunk on the wildly pornographic view.

You’re pretty certain he’s not wearing any underwear, which is only confirmed by a fuzzy, pink sack peeping out at you some time later when he works on the bench, and draws his leg up.

You swallow dryly as you stare at it, and wonder instantly what it would taste like as you imagine running your mouth around its swell.

Tasting damp, matted pubic hairs sticking to your tongue, with a salted sweat and mixture of his own masculine musk on your tastebuds, and the more you ponder it, the more it makes your mouth water.

You just want to push him back on the bench, naked from the waist down except for his faded white sneakers on, ribbed thick socks pulled up to his shins, and spread his legs wide.

You want to slide your inquisitive tongue all over those sweaty, heavy balls of his and watch his cock throb and pulse before taking it deep into your throat.

A tight clench and a hiss. A pucker of a fluttering hole as you tease it with your tongue. Lips and hips bruised in unison.

Googly frog eyes stare out at him in wonder. A noise at the back of your throat registers, something inhuman between a gulp and a hiccup as he rises up again off the bench.

Humming and sighing audibly as he presents that ass out at you, shorts flapping around his cock lewdly in the mirror’s reflection as he squats again.

As you observe him from across the gym, you feel the pull of heavy want flooding your body in a stifling and suffocating heat. It makes your toes tingle and your heart thrum a bit harder. White noise steams inside your ears.

The dull, aching throb between your own legs makes you shift uncomfortably in the chair as you gulp and swallow at the spectacle.

With each lift of the weights and every drop of sweat that glistens on his brow and moustache, you find your mind sinking further into a perverted swamp of lust and unbridled thoughts running amok over your amygdala.

In your mind, Javi’s pushing you up against the mirror, face crushed against it, trailing bites down on the back of your slick neck like a dog in heat. Your breath fogging against the reflective sheet as he pins your wrists to it with his hands, leaving misty fingerprint smears on the polished glass.

You can taste the sweat on his top lip, fuzzy and damp, and it's damn delicious as he pushes his crotch into your ass. Hard and thick under those flimsy, lacquer-like shorts, leaking a patch of pre-cum soaking into them that blooms and darkens the silk.

His hands let go of your wrists and work their way down your arms, tickling gently and sending prickles to bubble and blister against your burning skin. He skims over your belly and hovers above your waistband; his hot breath inside your ears in gaspy, mouthed moans as he breathes out.

He whispers how much he wants you, how much he wants everyone to watch him fuck you up agasint this mirror, before he slips his nimble, thick fingers down inside the front of your shorts, grinding and rubbing himself against you.

He’s pulling down his satin shorts to let his hard, thick cock bounce out at you, pumping its uncut, rosy head inside his giant hand. Weeping and sticky, it shines at you as his fingers and thumb smear in the secretions, and you watch as he licks his fingers free of his own greased drippings.

You lick your lips ready for a taste as he guides the bulbous head towards your mouth as you sink, thudding to your knees. Feel him weighty and warm in your palm, squeezing just under the head and sliding the skin back to reveal that succulent bulb as you lick the tip and taste glassy bubbles flowing from him before swallowing him down deep.

Suck it, cariño, yeah like that… Tómalo todo. Trágatelo profundo. Si… aah, si. Fuck... (Take it all. Swallow it deep. Yes, aah yes.)

Lost in your thoughts, you barely notice when Javi actually glances in your direction; his dark eyes meeting yours briefly with a knitted brow and pink pout, before returning to his workout.

The brief exchange sends a thrill of wanton excitement coursing through your veins, igniting a spark of curiosity and anticipation that you can't ignore as it pulls tight between your legs and makes you pulse.

As the DEA agent finishes his workout and begins to gather his belongings - he carries a modest blue duffle bag, although never takes anything out of it's fullness - you can't help but feel a pang of disappointment at the thought of him leaving you so riled up for another day.

He grabs his worn water bottle and squeezes a stream of water into his mouth, swallowing deep and plentiful mouthfuls of the jet, and wipes at his lips with the back of his hand when some of it trickles down his smoothly shaved chin.

You watch him pick up the towel you’d laid out, wipe his face off and that onyx-like stare is in your direction again. Two pools of dark tar sucking you in.

A wet, slithery thought creeping in between your ears makes a mental note to take that towel when he's done and defile the fuck out of it.

He finds something in your eyes, perhaps something that excites him, or repulses him. You’re not sure. You’re yet to embark on any formal conversation beyond a simple greeting out of politeness.

As Javi makes his way towards you, passing the desk towards the showers, you're convinced you see a small smirk prick at the corners of his lips.

Another wanton thought bolts its way into the filthy pit of your mind. You see yourself rising up on the balls of your feet in the shower block and presenting your behind out to him and he bends you over further to touch your toes.

You feel his grip around your waist as he slides in and packs you out, stretching you around him. Knees buckling and being drowned by the spray from above as he fucks you hard against the cool, mildewed tiles in the shower block.

You feel like your spine will crack with the pressure, but you don’t care as he pulls you back, hammering up into you. Fingers grazing around your throat, teeth biting into the ball of your wet shoulder.

So fucking tight, just like I love it, baby...

You're gasping his name as your orgasm rips through you and he spills himself inside of your hole with Spanish expletives howling in your ear.

His thick, plentiful come seeps out of you; leaking, pouring. So much pumped into you as he grunts into your ear - shuddering with a high-octane thrill as his moustache tickles against your skin.

You’ll think about this again - about him - when you're at home later; that towel shoved between your legs and soaked with your own leakings.

You catch the hazy scent of Javi as he passes by the desk, subtly inhaling the stench of his sweat; an intoxicating, potent blend of musk and masculinity that leaves you feeling breathless.

A primal aroma that grabs you by the lapels to shake the cock-addled stupid out of you as you catch a glimpse of that package swaying and bobbing around in his tiny flaxen shorts to torment you further.

And once more you swallow around a constricted gulp as he meets your wandering gaze.

“Hasta la próxima vez, cariño.” (See you next time, honey.) He simply husks, as he tosses his duffle bag over his shoulder and struts towards the showers.

Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed this sweaty story. Please consider re-blogging so others can enjoy it too. Thankies! 🖤

MAIN MASTERLIST | JAVIER PEÑA MASTERLIST

**This is a re-creation of my original post from my old deactivated blog, therefore the links on the old post will no longer work. This is the most up to date version.**

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Npt: @pinkypromisepascal @mothandpidgeon @covetyou @endlessthxxghts and anyone else who feels like it! 😘

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I also post on AO3 if anyone prefers reading over there!

Francisco "Frankie" Morales:

Through The Motions: You and Frankie decide to start a family. Regardless of your mental illness and the challenges it faces.

Parents to Lovers Series: A series of one-shots with the same family, listed in chronological order but posted randomly.

Suprise!Pboy:

Dirty: Meeting a stranger at a bar.

Dieter Bravo:

Memories: What happens when your husband, Dieter, forgets who you are?

Walk in the Park: Taking a walk in the park

Some Broken Hearts Never Mend: You're there for Dieter time and time again, when will enough be enough?

Javier Pena:

When It Rains: On a stake out with your partner and then it starts raining

Joel Miller:

Wrong Delivery: Sleepin' with the hot construction guy doing the remodel at your work, he winds up buying flowers for someone else...

Marcus Pike:

Paper Rings: Marcus wants to ask you an important question.