Javier Pena Fic - Tumblr Posts

It's Never Too Late Masterlist

Summary: You are an elementary school teacher who just moved to Texas for a fresh start when you meet a very handsome man from the Laredo Sheriff's Department coming to give your class a presentation.

After your co-workers pull some strings for you to meet again, you and Javier Peña find yourselves falling head over heels for each other.

Story takes place post Narcos Season 3 in Laredo, Texas, starting May 1997.

Paring: Javier Peña x F!reader (elementary school teacher)

Warnings: SMUT (18+ chapters containing marked with * but each chapter will also have its own warnings), no use of y/n, alternating POV, language, fluff, romantic comedy, Javi being so soft, Javi getting all the love and affection he deserves, you two being the biggest weirdos so in love

Status: Ongoing

Let me know if you want to be added to a tag list for new chapters as they come out! :)

Main Story:

Chapter 1: I D.A.R.E. You

Chapter 2: What's Cookin', Good Lookin'?

Chapter 3: I Wanna Be With You Everywhere*

Chapter 4: Add You To My List*

Chapter 5: You're The One That I Want*

Chapter 6: Dinosaurs, Dates and Diners, Oh My!*

Chapter 7: School's Out for Summer*

Chapter 8: My Favorite Cowboy*

Chapter 8.5: 007- Peña, Agent Peña*

Chapter 9: I Promise*

Chapter 10: Happy Birthday, Javi*

Pt. 1*

Pt. 2*

Chapter 11: Abe Froman, Sausage King of Chicago *

Chapter 12: I Love You. I Know. *

Chapter 13: There's No Place Like Home*

One Shots (In chronological order of the main storyline):

Dirty Laundry*

Again*

You're My Home*

Not Yet*

The Mouse and the Motorcycle

You Make Life Worth It

Soup for Breakfast

Peanut Butter and Pickles

Extras:

Never Too Late Playlist

Mood board

---

Learning to Live Part 25

summary: Javier is taking you on a trip to Miami to meet the Murphys, and baby fever hits hard when you see each other interacting with their small children. 

rating: E (18+! No y/n, alternating POV, age gap (about ten years), explicit smut, chair sex, unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), creampie, anal play (f receiving), kinda double penetration, masturbation (m), sneaking around (you don’t want the Murphys to hear you), baby fever, (MASSIVE) breeding kink, dirty talk, spanking, (1) Papí, spit as lube, traveling, Javier being really cute with children, Javier losing his mind at seeing you with children, Steve giving Javier so much shit, Steve trying to keep you from fucking in the guest room and you two doing it anyway, grumpy Javier, feelings of insecurity/body insecurity (and Javier making you feel better), pregnancy discussion/talks of the future)

pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader

word count: 18.2k+

a/n: Happy Halloween! This is my treat to you for Halloween and the end of Kinktober. I hope you enjoy! This Miami arc is either going to be two or three chapters long. Thank you to the lovely @senorabond for betaing! And also, thank you to @juletheghoul for ensuring my Spanish makes sense! 

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to know what you thought!

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Javier’s cell phone only rang for four reasons: his dad was calling, you were calling, it was one of the Murphys; Steve for their regularly scheduled Thursday chat, or Olivia wanting to talk to her tío and sometimes needing help with her Spanish homework. Last, and the phone calls he always ignored outside of business hours, were from his office. 

The first time your boyfriend took a call while he was with you, you’d barely been dating a week. 

While the two of you were cuddling on the couch on a Monday, watching some movie you couldn't even remember the name of because your brain at the time was focusing on getting naked instead of actually watching it, his phone on the coffee table in front of you started ringing. He apologized when he picked it up to check the caller ID and apologized again when he told you he had to answer it since it was his niece and got up from the couch. 

It should’ve been an endearing moment, but your confusion had overshadowed it because you knew he had no siblings. You could admit it was pretty cute overhearing him in the kitchen talking to her in the sweetest voice he clearly saved for children, asking about how her summer was going. 

After he hung up and returned to you, he’d explained: she was his best friend, Steve’s daughter, and he was her godfather, a role he took very seriously by being the best uncle to her and her younger brothers. 

That was many months ago, and with today being Friday and Javi’s phone ringing on his bedside table in your shared bedroom, you had a feeling it was Olivia since he talked to his dad on his way home—the problem, though: your boyfriend was in the shower. 

This seemed like an order-in kind of night, with it being the end of the week and you both wanting to relax. You’d just set the bag of Chinese food on the coffee table when you heard his phone going off. In less than thirty seconds, you had it in hand, the caller ID reading ‘Murphys,’ which was their landline, and confirmed your suspicion. Stepping inside the bathroom, the sounds of water roaring and splashing in the shower stall and the overhead fan humming greeted you; the large mirror over the sink was fogged up, steam permeating the air. 

“Babe?” you said loud enough for him to hear. 

The frosted glass door rolled open enough for Javi to stick out his head, his hair lathered in shampoo. 

“Yeah?” 

“Olivia’s calling.” You held up the ringing phone. 

“Can you answer it and tell her I’ll call her back later?”

Now, Steve and his family were well aware of who you were, and you knew all about them, but you’ve never spoken to any of them. So this request had a nervous flutter erupting in your belly. 

“Yeah,” you answered. “I can do that.” 

A swoon-worthy smile appeared on his face. “Thanks, mi amor (my love).” 

Immediately, you clicked the answer button, putting the phone up to your ear as you said, “Javi’s phone,” before making your way back into the bedroom and shutting the bathroom door behind you. 

“You’re not Javi…” said a deep male voice that had your eyes going wide. 

“You’re not Olivia…” 

There was amusement in his tone, not expecting the smooth southern drawl. “No, I’m not. I’m her father, Steve Murphy, and you must be the woman my best friend is madly in love with.” 

With a smile, you replied, “That’s me,” and introduced yourself.

“It’s nice to finally meet you—well, talk to you, at least. I gotta say I don’t think I’ve ever seen Javi this happy in all the time I’ve known him. You’ve been real good for him, and I’m glad he finally found someone who can put up with his grumpy ass.” 

Warmth spread through your chest, his last comment making you giggle. 

“You wanna know a secret?” you whispered. 

“Yeah?” 

“When he’s with me, he’s not grumpy. He smiles a lot and laughs. He’s really adorable, to be honest.”

“I don’t know if I’d call him adorable, but he’s like that with my kids, too.”

“Oh, Javi with kids is my kryptonite—he’s so good with them.”

“Let me tell you, when I came home to Miami after getting Escobar, he stayed with us for a while, and it shocked me how good he was with Olivia.” That didn’t surprise you. He’d grown up with practically all his cousins being younger than him, and he has a lot of them. “I don’t know if he told you, but not too long after he quit the DEA, he lived with us for a bit ‘cause he was having a hard time being in Laredo—from what I understand, there are some people there who aren’t too kind to him.”

“That’s an understatement, but yes.” 

Javi staying in Miami for a time was something you were aware of. 

Being back in Laredo had been hard for him, like Steve said, and he was known to run from his problems, so he went and lived with the Murphys for almost a year in their guest room. Then, one day, his dad called and told him not to worry, but doctors were running some tests after finding a mass on his liver that could possibly be cancerous. Javier’s mother, Antonia, died from breast cancer that wasn’t caught in time, so when he got off the phone, he packed his bags and was on the first flight home. 

It was the kick in his ass he needed to realize his dad was all he had left and was worth braving his hometown. Chucho’s mass was benign, and Javi annoyed the fuck out of him his first month back by being a mother hen and fussing over him nonstop.

“Well,” Steve continued, “he came and lived with us and was a huge help with Olivia and Stevie. He was a natural with them—they love Javi more than their actual uncles.”

A grin was on your face, loving to hear that he’d done so well helping them with their children. “And he loves them like they’re his biological niece and nephews.”

“He really does.” There was fondness in his tone. “You know, when we were in Colombia, all the guys we worked with thought he was a giant asshole since he didn’t put up with their shit—I was his partner, and I thought he was a giant asshole, but all the women in the office seemed to love him because he was sweet to them. Your man only lightens up for women and children ‘cause I sure as hell did not have a partner who smiled and laughed a lot. Like, I’m looking at this holiday card y’all sent, and I barely recognize him with that big ‘ol grin.”

The holiday cards had been your idea. 

Chucho did the photo shoot, and the picture you both chose had Javi and you in matching outfits of red sweaters and jeans, with him holding you from behind as you both smiled at the camera. Daphne and Velma, the seven-month-old calves you lovingly called your bovine children, were on either side of you wearing fake antlers, all of you in front of the red wooden barn, the bottom of the card reading, ‘Happy holidays from us to you,’ typed in a fancy script. 

It was very cute. 

It delighted you people were finally getting them, now wondering when you’d get that disapproving call from your mother. You knew it was looming on the horizon when your parents finally got theirs. 

“It’s nice, though, right?” You chewed on your lip. 

“Oh, it’s more than nice—it’s fuckin’ great! That man has been to hell and back, and it’s about damn time he finally gets to be happy and relax for once. Which reminds me why I called—were you guys able to get that time off next week?”

The two of you hoped to go to Miami the following week; there were just some issues with you getting days off. 

“Yes! Javi was going to call you tonight. We can do Thursday through Saturday, but we need to be home Sunday for his birthday because we’re celebrating with his dad.”

“That’s fine! We’re just happy you can come! Excuse me, ma’am, Connie just came in the room and has a question for me,” It sounded like Steve covered the phone, hearing his muffled voice say, “Yes, baby, they’re coming… Thursday through Saturday, they need to be home for Javi’s birthday Sunday… It’s not Javi, it’s his girlfriend… She’s great… You know Javi, he doesn’t want a fuc-flipping birthday party… Fine, I’ll ask her.” Now you could hear him clearly. “My apologies, ma’am. My wife wants to know if you’d like us to throw Javi a birthday party?”

“Oh, you guys are already letting us stay with you. I couldn’t ask you to throw a party.”

“Okay.” He spoke to his wife. “She says that’d be too much since they’re staying with us.”

Noise sounded over the line like the phone was being passed, followed by a woman’s voice now speaking, “Hi, is this Javi’s girlfriend?” 

“Yes,” you replied, giving her your name. “Is this Connie?” A baby was babbling in the background, and you thought she might be holding their youngest child. 

“It is! It’s so nice to meet you! I can’t wait for you to visit next week.” 

“I can’t wait either! I’ve heard so much about all of you, and I’m excited.” 

“We’re just as excited! Now, it’d be no problem throwing Javi a little party, and the kids would love to celebrate with him. I mean, they love any excuse to eat cake.” 

Giggling, you replied, “Well, we can’t deny the kids cake. If you insist, I’m sure Javi would be touched by the gesture.”

“Great! We’re going to have such a wonderful time. Javi’s told us how much you love the beach, so we’ll have to spend a day there, and I need to go grocery shopping. Is there anything you want to eat while here?” 

You were hoping to go to the beach, and happy she mentioned it. 

“I can’t think of anything. I’m not picky.”

“If you think of something, just give me a call. We want you to have a great trip.” 

“I know it’s going to be amazing,” you said truthfully. 

“I hope so! Okay, Steve wants the phone back. Nice to meet you, bye!” 

“Nice meeting you, too!”

“It’s me again.” Steve was back on. “Are you guys going to need a ride from the airport?” 

The bathroom door opened, and you looked over your shoulder to see Javi coming out in just a white towel wrapped around his waist, his hair blow-dried and styled. 

“I don’t know…?” you distractedly answered. With you going on the trip soon, you had been refraining from sucking marks into his skin to avoid any awkward conversations with the Murphy kids. Still, there were fading hickies your eyes took in as they moved down his torso to the tantalizing trail of hair that disappeared beneath the cotton. 

With the fan on in the bathroom, he could hear Cielito on the phone; however, he was unable to make out anything she was saying, thinking she might be talking to Robyn or one of his family members. He walked into the room, and she looked over her shoulder at him, his chest puffing out a little at how she was checking him out. 

“Who are you talking to?” he whispered.

Her gaze snapped up to meet his. “Steve,” she answered just as quietly. 

That had him taken aback since he was pretty sure his best friend and wif-girlfriend had never spoken before. Was it Steve who called and not Olivia? Has she been on the phone with him this entire time? 

What were they talking about?

“What does he want?” Javier asked. 

“I’m sorry, Steve,” she said to the other man. “Javi’s here, so give me a sec.” She turned in place to face him, covering the speaker. “He called to find out if we could visit next week—which I told him yes, but he just asked if we’ll need a ride from the airport, and I don’t know the answer.” 

Immediately, he held out his hand. 

She uncovered the phone, talking to his friend again, “Steve, Javi wants to talk to you.” A big smile was on her face. “It was nice talking to you, too… Oh goodness, that’s so sweet… He makes me happy, too. Like super happy.” She shielded her mouth so Javier couldn’t see it, her eyes locked on his, while she whispered in a conspiratorial tone, “Don’t tell him I said this, but he’s an amazing boyfriend and so goddamn dreamy. Literally, the best partner I’ve ever had, and I cannot wait to marry him, so he’s mine forever.” What she said made him smile, and his heart skip a beat. Steve must’ve said something funny because she laughed. “Bye, Steve.” She passed the phone to him. 

“Hey,” Javier said, with the cell phone pressed to his ear. 

“Hey, Jav. Your girlfriend’s great, and we can’t wait to meet her.” 

After his last relationship with Lorraine, and how he missed the red flags and ignored his mother’s warnings about her, having his family love the woman standing in front of him, and now Steve also liking her, it reassured him he was making the right choice for who he was going to marry—not that he had any doubts. Javier knew for a fact she was the one he was spending the rest of his life with. It just made him feel great that others could see how amazing she was. 

“Yeah, she’s fucking incredible.” 

“You’ve got it so bad for her.” Steve chuckled. “I got your holiday card, and I couldn’t believe my fucking eyes—the way you’re smiling, the matching outfits, and the dressed-up cows—” 

“Daphne and Velma,” Javier interrupted. 

The girls behaved well for the photoshoot—with the help of many treats and pets. He loved how the card turned out and was beyond happy Cielito even wanted to do something like that with him. It made him think of the future and the cards featuring the additions of tiny Peñas and seeing their family grow with each holiday season—showing their friends and relatives how their family had grown. Not that he loved the idea of rubbing their happiness in her parents’ faces or anything…

“These are your—what do you call them? Your bovine children?” He’d mentioned the calves on previous calls. 

“Yeah,” he answered. “The red one is Daphne, and the other is Velma.” 

“Okay, I’ll admit they’re pretty cute.” 

“They are. So anyway, we don’t need you to pick us up,” he said, getting back on topic. “I’m gonna rent a car like I always do.” 

“Sounds good.” 

He turned away from his future fiancée as he spoke a little quieter, “Did you say anything embarrassing about me?” 

His question made his best friend laugh, and he frowned. “You’ve got nothing to worry about, Javi. We talked about how great you are with my kids and that you’re only nice to women and children.” 

That didn’t sound too bad. 

He whispered, “How’d she react about me being great with the kids?” 

Steve laughed again. “Positively. A direct quote is, ‘Javi with kids is my kryptonite.’”

Javier smiled. “Good. Tell mis sobrinos (my niece and nephews) I need them to be extra cute when we visit.”

“Will do. Speaking of the kids, Connie needs my help, so I gotta go.” 

“Give them all my love, and I’ll see you next week.” 

“I will. Bye, you asshole.”

“Adiós, pendejo (Goodbye, asshole).” He clicked the end call button, walking over to set the phone back on his bedside table. 

“You’re a dork,” she said. 

Turning toward her, amusement was clear on her face. 

“Why am I a dork?” he asked, taking a few steps to stand in front of her.

“Asking my reaction to how good you are with his kids.” 

His hands went up to cradle her face. “He said I was great with his kids.” 

“Yeah, he did, and he said you were a natural with them.” Her eyes had darkened, her fingers dipping into the top of the towel at his waist as she bit her bottom lip—she was turned on, and it made him smirk, his cock beginning to harden. 

“You like that?” he asked, leaning forward until his mouth was a hair's breadth away from hers, her eyes closing. “You like that if I got you pregnant, I’d be great with our baby?” 

“Yes,” she breathed. 

This was the moment his brain decided to remind him he needed to book everything for their trip right away.

His eyes squeezed shut, taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out as he pressed his forehead to hers. 

“I’m sorry, Cielito,” he sounded pained. “We can’t fool around right now. I’ve got shit I need to do.” 

“But we were about to have really kinky sex,” she groaned.

“I’ll make it up to you after I get all our stuff booked and we eat dinner.” He sweetly kissed her. “Anything you want,” he said when he broke away, looking her in the eyes. “Anything.”

“Okay. That’s acceptable. I both love and hate that you’re a responsible adult.” She pouted. “Use my credit card and book us in business class since it’s two seats in a row. That way, we won’t have to worry about anyone sitting with us.” 

He smiled. “Yeah, I didn’t want anyone sitting with us either and planned on booking business—maybe first, depending on the price.” 

“Meh, stick with business.” 

“Okay. Window or aisle?” 

“Window.” 

“Good, ‘cause I like the aisle.”

That made her grin. “It’s like we’re meant to be or something. Next, you’re gonna tell me I can have your peanuts.”

“Oh, yeah, I never eat them. I usually just have a drink.” 

Whiskey on the rocks. 

“We’re soulmates.” 

“We are.” He agreed with a nod. 

“Ugh.” She stepped away from him, and his mouth turned down, his hands falling. “You’re basically naked, and I want to jump your bones. Put on some clothes, you saucy temptress.” Her head turned, shielding her eyes with her hand. 

“Saucy temptress?” he chuckled, walking so close as he passed her their arms brushed, heading toward his dresser. 

“You heard me—seducing me with your manly wiles and, god, your rockin’ bod. Okay, I’m going to the living room because you are so close to getting your dick sucked.” He opened a drawer, pulling out his sweatpants. “You know,” she said, still standing in the same spot but shuffling to face him. “You’re gonna be on the phone, right?” The towel dropped to the floor as he pulled on the pants. 

“Yeah,” he answered. 

“So, I mean, while you’re talking, theoretically, I could suck your dick while you’re doing it.” 

He sucked in a breath, his half-hard cock twitching at the thought. 

“You’re the saucy temptress,” he rasped, bending down with a groan to grab his towel and moving to toss it in the nearby dirty clothes hamper. “No, mi amor (my love), that’s how I end up accidentally booking us on a flight to fucking Australia or some shit.” 

“You’re no fun.” She was pouting again, looking adorable. 

“But I love you.” 

“I love you, too.” 

The Laredo Airport wasn’t very big. 

Built by the U.S. Government during World War II, it was used by the United States Air Force, then during the Cold War, it was a pilot training base. With the defense cutbacks after the Vietnam War, the military presence ended by the tail end of 1973, with commercial air service not arriving until the summer of 1975. 

The commercial air service? It would take you to exotic destinations, like Dallas/Fort Worth and Houston-Intercontinental. Basically, you flew from Laredo’s tiny airport to one of the larger Texan airports and, from there, headed to your desired location. 

This is how you ended up on a flight from Dallas/Fort Worth International Airport at 8:45 AM on a Thursday morning in December. 

The trip would only be three days long, so you both packed carry-ons that Javi insisted he carry, or roll, for your suitcase; he brought a leather duffle bag for himself. He safely stored the luggage in the overhead compartment, and you had seated yourself by the window and buckled in, your boyfriend beside you in the only other seat in your row.

For a comfortable flight, you wore leggings, an oversized T-shirt, and tennis shoes. Javier? The man refused to look anything but his best out in public, so he was in his usual tight-ass jeans, a white button-up with a blue patterned design, and his black leather jacket—to go to Miami, where the weather was hot and, from what you were told, humid. 

The things he did in the name of being the sexiest man alive. 

Your leg was bouncing, your shoulders tense, chewing on your thumb. 

Warm fingers laced with those of your free hand, Javi gently squeezing it. 

“You a nervous flyer?” he whispered. 

Turning your head toward him, you answered, “Little bit. It’s mostly take-off and landing. Once we’re in the air, I’m fine.”

“Yeah? How can I help?”

“I don’t know. Talk to me? Are you a nervous flyer?” 

A little smile was on his lips, barely shaking his head. “No. I’m used to it with all the traveling I did for work. I will say I prefer planes over helicopters, though.” 

The last of the passengers were boarding, but you aren’t paying any of them mind, in your little bubble with Javi. 

“Did you fly in helicopters a lot?” 

“Thankfully, no. We used them mostly when we needed to go out into the jungle, which I always fucking hated.” 

“The helicopter ride or the jungle?” 

“Both. It’s hot in there, and the animals. I, uh, don’t like snakes…” 

His answer made you smile as you replied, “That’s very Indiana Jones of you.” A thought came to you. “Oh! Would you wear a fedora if I got you one?”

His eyes squinted. “No...” 

The pilot came over the speaker. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome onboard Flight AA319 with service from Dallas/Fort Worth to Miami. We are currently second in line for take-off and should be in the air in approximately ten minutes. We ask that you please fasten your seatbelts at this time and secure all baggage underneath your seat or in the overhead compartments. We also ask that your seats and table trays are in the upright position for take-off. Please turn off all personal electronic devices, including laptops and cell phones. Smoking is prohibited for the duration of the flight. Thank you for flying American Airlines. We hope you enjoy your flight.”

You frowned at Javi, going back to your conversation. “But you’ve got the leather jacket—” You patted it over his pec. “—and the button up, that we can sluttily unbutton to show some skin, and we’ll get you a pair of khaki pants.” 

His eyes remained narrowed. “Why do you always want me to dress up as characters played by that guy—what’s his name? Harry Ford?” 

“Harrison Ford, and it’s not my fault he’s played some iconic characters that you’d look hot dressed up as—don’t lie to me and say you wouldn’t enjoy dressing up as Han Solo. You think he’s the coolest guy.” 

He was frowning now. “Han’s okay, but Boba Fett’s cooler.” He shrugged.

Your eyebrow rose. “Do you want me to get you some Boba Fett armor so you can pretend to be a space bounty hunter, and we can make it horny and have you hunt me down?” 

The wheels were turning in his head, and he seemed to be thinking it over, which made you giggle. 

“It’d be too uncomfortable,” he finally answered. “And I wouldn’t be able to see shit in the helmet. If I’m gonna dress up as a Star Wars character, I’ll stick with Han.” 

“Smart man.”

Javi kept talking to you about nothing important to keep you distracted as the plane started moving, only pausing when the flight attendants went over the safety briefing. 

What you didn’t expect was right before take-off, he kissed you, and not a chaste kiss but a toe-curling, forgot-how-to-think, skin-heating, breath-stealing, tongue-tangling kiss that had you so caught up in him, you didn’t even notice the plane had left the ground, or rose thousands of feet into the sky. 

When you finally broke away for air, you felt dazed; your eyes had closed, panting breaths and smiling. Arousal swirled in your belly and dripped into your panties, feeling the cotton dampened and sticking to your skin. 

“Still feeling nervous?” he asked, kissing your chin. 

“God, no.” You replied breathily. “Feeling horny.” 

A ding sounded, the light showing ‘seat belts needed to be fastened’ turning off, a flight attendant announcing, “Ladies and gentlemen, the Captain has turned off the fasten seat belt sign, and you may now move around the cabin.” 

“Javi?” Your eyes opened. 

“Yes, Cielito?” 

Leaning close to press your lips to his ear, you quietly asked, “Have you ever joined the mile-high club?” 

He audibly gulped. “No.”

“Would you like to?” His jacket was unzipped, and you walked your fingers over the skin on his chest, revealed by the top few buttons being undone, his aviators hanging in the dip. 

“Hold on.” Suddenly, his seatbelt was clicking open, and he was rising, keeping his head ducked until he was in the aisle, hastening toward the front of the plane. Watching curiously, he opened a lavatory door and went inside, coming out a minute later, a grumpy look on his perfect face as he made his way back to you and sat down beside you with a grunt. 

“It’s too fucking small,” he said, turning his torso to face you. “And I think we’d get caught if we tried.” He looked so disappointed, and the news made you sigh. 

“It’s good one of us is a responsible adult making the right decisions.” 

Leaning closer, he whispered, “I can get a blanket from the flight attendant and finger you under it if you really want to get off while we’re flying.” 

The idea caused your cunt to clench hard around nothing. 

“That sounds so good, but I’d want us both to get off. Guess we’re just gonna have to fuck when we go to bed tonight, and you’ll have to keep me quiet.” Your hand rubbed along his thigh, his eyes darkening. 

“I love you so fucking much,” he rasped. 

“I love you, too.” 

“Steve would hate us fucking in the guest room.” 

“That just makes you want to do it more, doesn’t it?” 

“Oh, yeah.” He smirked. 

“You’re such an asshole to him,” you giggled. 

“He deserves it,” he replied, closing what little distance was between you to kiss your lips. 

The flight was barely three hours long, which you spent reading the small book stashed in your purse, your boyfriend beside you with his reading glasses on, his big hand holding his own book you’d kept for him. 

When the flight attendant came down the aisle with the drink cart and snacks, Javi got a whiskey, while you got ginger ale and both bags of peanuts. 

The books were put away when it was time to land, and he held your hand tight while the other caressed your face as he distracted you with another mind-blowing kiss—you’d never enjoyed taking off and landing so much. 

Off the plane, Javi had the bags—carrying his duffle by the handles and rolling your luggage through the airport to the rental car agency. You took his bag when you got to the counter so he could fish his wallet out of his back pocket, passing the employee his driver’s license with you standing beside him.

The dark-haired man on the other side was smiling as he read the card and started inputting the information into a computer, his name tag reading Martin and beneath it, ‘Hablo Español.’

“Welcome to Miami, Mr. and Mrs. Peña!” Martin said, his words heavily accented. Your eyes rounded, Javi’s arm wrapping around your waist to pull you into him. “I hope you had a pleasant trip!” 

“It wasn’t too bad,” your future husband replied. “Right, Mrs. Peña?” He was smirking when he turned his head toward you, looking beyond delighted. 

“Right, Mr. Peña,” you answered with a smile, getting closer to him by hooking your arm around his middle, resting your head against his chest. “The flight was pretty great.” 

“Awe,” Martin replied. “Newlyweds, no? Here on your honeymoon?” He glanced up from what he was doing. 

“Something like that,” Javi responded, kissing your hair. 

The conversation transitioned to business, with your boyfriend having to sign a lot of paperwork before he handed you a small stapled stack and the employee directed you where to go to get the car, which involved getting on a shuttle bus. 

The sun was shining down from the clear blue sky, the temperature hot and humid, Javi having to take off his leather jacket. You were more than happy to carry it along with the papers for the car while he took care of lugging around the bags when they dropped you off at the car lot. A stop had to be made in a small, blissfully air-conditioned building to get the keys and have someone take you to where the vehicle was parked. You would think for such a short trip and the small amount of stuff you had, he would’ve rented a full-size sedan at most—nope, Javi rented an SUV, a brand new forest green ‘98 Ford Explorer, to be exact. 

His aviators were on, leaving you with the bags on the ground at your feet. At the same time, he meticulously inspected the SUV’s exterior for any scratches or dings that needed to be reported so they weren’t blamed on you, rubbing his thumb over some spots. 

Sometimes—well, a lot of the time when you were out in public—he had an intimidating aura about him, ‘just don’t fuck with me’ vibes wafting off of him with the grumpy expression on his face and how confidently he moved about. It came in handy when you were in crowded places because people stayed out of his way and didn’t bother you—instead of scary dog privilege, you had scary boyfriend privilege. An issue with scary boyfriend privilege: he was making the rental car agency worker extremely nervous, the poor man holding his clipboard and sweating profusely, which you didn’t think had anything to do with the weather. 

He was standing by you as Javi did his thing, shorter than your boyfriend with light skin, brown hair, and if you squinted, he kind of looked like Tom Hanks in Sleepless in Seattle—same hairstyle, same forehead. 

“He’s a teddy bear,” you whispered to the employee. 

There was confusion on his face when he looked at you. “What?” he asked. 

“Javi—” You nodded in the direction of the man, who was crouched at the passenger side door and using his thumb to see if a mark was dirt or a scratch. “—he’s a teddy bear. It’s just how his resting face looks. Watch this.” You called out to Javi, “Find anything, baby?” 

“No,” he answered, grunting as he rose to stand. His hands were on his hips as he gave the side of the vehicle another look over. 

“I love you,” you told him. 

His head turned in your direction, giving you a beaming smile. “I love you, too, mi amor (my love).” 

He looked back at the SUV, and you said quietly out of the corner of your mouth, “See.” 

“I didn’t notice anything,” Javi told the employee, heading your way and wiping his hands on his jeans. 

“That’s great, sir,” the worker replied. “I just need you to sign here.” He pointed at a place on the paper clipped to his clipboard with the pen he showed your boyfriend. Javi was quickly signing and taking the offered keys. 

“Thank you,” your boyfriend said, shaking the other man’s hand. 

“No problem. If you have any issues, just give us a call.” 

“Sounds good.” 

The employee went away. 

The vehicle was already unlocked, so Javi walked over to the front passenger-side door. “Let me get your door, Mrs. Peña,” he said as he opened it. 

It made you giggle, moving his way with his jacket and the paperwork still held in your arms and hand, avoiding the bags on the ground. “That really made your day, didn’t it?” you asked, leaning in to kiss him when you were in front of him. 

“Yes, Mrs. Peña,” he murmured against your lips, feeling him smile. One of his hands was on the top of the door with the keys tucked in his palm, his other grabbing a handful of your ass. 

“You’re adorable, Mr. Peña.” Breaking away, you continued, “Give me the keys so I can get the AC going.” There was a grin under his perfectly trimmed mustache as he dangled the keys in front of your face, and you maneuvered the stuff in your arms to free up a hand to grab them—he pulled them away before the tips of your fingers even touched the metal. 

You glared at him when he said, “Ask nicely for them this time.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah.”

Inhaling deeply, you let the air leave your nose in a huff. “My love, may I please have the keys so I can get the AC going?”

“Of course, baby.” He handed them to you. “I’ll take care of the bags.” Leaning in, his lips met your cheek in a loud smacking kiss, slapping your ass before he walked away.

Miami had become a home away from home for Javier. It was a place where he could relax and be surrounded by the Murphys, whom he considered family even though they didn’t share blood. 

Colombia never felt like home. 

He knew he wasn’t welcome down there, finding his sparse apartments cold and lifeless, the only personal touch he made in the later years being the ofrenda for his late mother. There was no relaxing in South America when each morning he woke up could’ve been his last. Sure, he had Steve and Connie for a lot of it, but they were just as stressed as he was, and more so when Olivia came about, to the point Connie just up and left, back to the States. 

Colombia was never home, and at the time he was sent back to Texas after his fuck up with Los Pepes, Laredo didn’t feel like home either. 

He hadn’t known where he belonged when a good portion of the people in the town where he was born and raised still judged him for something he’d done over a decade earlier, a handful even hostile toward him. 

After Steve finished their work and got Pablo Escobar, he returned to Florida to his wife and kid. They invited Javier to visit and stay in their guest room for however long he needed, and he had. They wouldn’t take any money he tried to offer them, but they accepted his help around the house and caring for Olivia, who was five by then.  

Then he was called back to South America, and upon returning to the U.S. after that stint, he stayed with his dad for a month before he was in Miami again, that time for about a year, where he helped out with their barely ten-month-old, Stevie, and seven-year-old Olivia.

After going back to Laredo to be with his dad, he’d take occasional weekend trips like he and Cielito were doing now to stay with the family. Those trips became less frequent when they adopted Nate—he felt it was important they all had time to bond with their new addition without him being in the way. 

He spent so much time in this Florida city, he knew his way around pretty well, like how it was faster to take 874 South instead of Ronald Reagan Turnpike, and as a bonus, they’d avoid tolls. 

The air conditioning was cranked high, whooshing loudly while a Spanish station played loud enough to hear. He had one hand gripping the steering wheel, the fingers of his other laced with those of the woman he was going to marry, resting on her thigh. 

She was looking out at the scenery in interest as they drove. 

“Why’d you get this car?” she asked, staring out her window. 

“So we’d have room for the little passengers.” Bringing her hand up, he kissed the back of it. 

She looked at him. “The kids are gonna want to ride with us?” 

He glanced at her, resting their hands back on her leg, smiling. “Oh, yeah. At least Olivia and Stevie—Nate’s too young to care. Doing the whole car seat thing in a smaller car fucking sucks.” 

“So, what I’m hearing is we will be getting something like this when the baby-making starts and my car will have to go?” 

Her car was a tiny two-door Honda, and just thinking about getting a car seat in it was making his back hurt, her question also causing his chest to go tight from happiness.

His eyes were back on the road. “Sorry, baby.” He squeezed her hand. “I know you love your car. I was thinking something bigger than this.” 

“True,” she replied. “We gotta have room for all those babies you’re gonna knock me up with.” 

A shock of arousal shot through his belly. 

He had to clear his throat, his voice a little deeper. “Yeah…” 

“I can’t believe that innocent comment turned you on,” she laughed, and he frowned. 

“Don’t laugh,” he grumbled, having to wiggle a tiny bit in his seat with how blood had rushed to his dick. 

Immediately, she stopped but still sounded amused. “I’m sorry, babe. I know it excites you a lot.” 

“Excites you a lot, too.” 

“Yes, it does. So, let’s talk about something safe. How long before we’re there?” 

“About fifteen minutes.” 

“That’s not too bad.” 

She questioned him about what they lived close to, and he answered they were near a zoo, some parks, and the beach was a ten-minute drive.

The Murphys lived in a one-story ranch-style house with an A-shaped gable roof extending over the front porch. The stucco on the outside was painted a golden yellow with crimson trim, and the window panes were outlined in bright white. 

In the driveway, Connie’s minivan and Steve’s little truck were parked. Javi pulled in behind his best friend’s rig, and not even thirty seconds later the front door was opening, hearing muffled, high-pitched squeals. 

“Hey,” he said to Cielito, getting her attention. “Relax. They’re gonna love you. You have nothing to worry about.” 

“Promise?” 

He smiled, letting go of her hand to hold up his pinky. “I pinky promise.” That made her smile as she looped hers with his, and he leaned in to kiss her quickly. 

“Okay, we better get out,” he said. 

“Okay.” 

Out of the vehicle, Javier walked around the front, a tiny dirty blonde toddler screaming at the top of his lungs as he ran out of the house, “Tío (Uncle)! Tío! Tío! Tío! Tíoooooo!”

It made him smile, crouching and opening his arms to catch the little boy, holding and hugging him as he stood back up. “Mi sobrino (My nephew)!” The child was securely sitting on one of his arms, looking more like his dad than the last time he saw him. “You’ve gotten so big, Stevie!” He tickled the toddler’s belly, making him laugh and squirm. 

Connie came out with Nate on her hip and Steve smiling beside her. 

“What are you feeding him?” Javier asked his friends. “How has he grown so much in, what, eight, nine months?” 

“Kids grow fast, Javi,” Steve answered. “Nate’s already walking.” 

His eyes went wide, getting a good look at the baby who’d only been six or so months the last time he was here and now was over a year old and a toddler—he was bigger, his olive-colored arms not as chubby, the black curls on top of his head longer, and eyes still as dark as he remembered.  

“You’ve gotta be fuc—” The other adults gave him looks, quickly correcting himself. “—freaking kidding me. He’s walking? Already?” 

“Yep,” Connie answered. “And talking. Right now, he’s tired because it’s nap time. Isn’t that right, baby?” she cooed, kissing Nate’s hair, his head resting against her shoulder and babbling. 

He was stunned at how quickly they grew in so little time, feeling a ball of anxiety form in his gut, thinking about his future children and losing so much time with them because of work. Dread was heavy like a stone on his chest at the thought of missing milestones of his kid’s growth. 

Fingers snapped in front of his face to get his attention, hearing his name and realizing it was Steve, Javier swallowing hard. 

“What?” he asked. 

His best friend’s eyebrow rose. “I asked if you were gonna be polite and introduce us to your girlfriend.” 

“Oh, shi-shoot.” She was on the side with his empty arm, and he rubbed his hand up her back, smiling. “Sorry, Steve, Connie, this is the woman I’m gonna marry—” He told them her name. “—or I just call her mi Cielito, my little heaven.” He kissed her temple. “Cielito, these are my best friends, Steve, Connie, Connie’s got Nate, and—” Straightening, he looked at the child in his arms. “Hey buddy, you wanna tell her your name?” he asked gently. Stevie hid his face in Javier’s neck, and his big hand went to the back of his head while his parents laughed. “Awe, it’s okay, bud.” He rubbed over the boy’s hair. “I know she’s a new person. She’s really nice and excited to meet you, and she makes amazing cookies.” 

His little head popped up. “Cookies?” his tiny voice asked. 

Javier smiled. He knew that’d get him. “Yeah, she makes amazing cookies.” 

“I want cookies,” Stevie replied. His attention turned to Connie. “Can we have cookies, Mommy?” 

“One second, baby boy.” She walked toward Cielito to whisper something in her ear. 

His girlfriend nodded her head, answering, “Sure! I can do that!”

“Is it really okay?” the other woman asked, meeting her eyes. 

“Yeah!” 

“Okay.” Connie looked at her eldest son. “The nice lady says she’ll make cookies with you, but you’ll have to tell her your name.” 

The boy looked past Javi to excitedly shout at Cielito, “Stevie!” Reaching his little arms toward her, and it made warmth spread through him when, without missing a beat, she took the toddler from him. 

“Hi, Stevie,” she said with a warm smile. “It’s nice to meet you.” 

They were facing him, and Javier pointed at her. “She’s gonna be your tía (aunt), Stevie.” 

The child’s eyes moved from him to her. “Tía?” he asked, shoving a finger at her chest.

“Yeah, bud, she’s your tía (aunt), and I’m your tío (uncle).”

Tiny blue eyes met his. “Tío—” His head turned to her. “—Tía.” 

“Yes.” She confirmed. “And you’re Stevie.” She gently poked his chest. 

“Stevie!” He clapped his hands. “We’re gonna make cookies, Tía?” 

“Yes, your mom said after your nap.” 

“Well, let’s head inside then, guys,” grown-up Steve announced. 

“Come with me,” Connie told his girlfriend. “The men can get the bags, and I’ll put the boys down for a nap.” 

“Okay,” she replied. 

It made him smile how easily she went, his eyes on her back with the toddler on her hip, whispering to him, and Javier thought it looked so perfect, so right; his mind was running wild with images of what she’d look like holding their child—wishing she was holding their child. Stevie looked like a miniature version of Steve; would Javier’s child with his future wife look more like him or her? Or would they be a mix of them both? What he knew for sure was they’d be perfect, and he would love them more than anything in the goddamn world. 

Fuck, he couldn’t wait to get married.

Hands landed on his shoulders from behind. 

“Jesus Christ, Jav,” Steve laughed, giving him a playful shake. He got out of the hold, spinning around to see his friend’s grinning face that made him clench his jaw. “I knew you had it bad, but this is something else—you’re really in love with this girl.” 

His eyebrows creased, frowning. 

Steve had known about his girlfriend since their relationship began and even gave him wanted and unwanted advice when he did and didn’t need it—he knew damn well Javier loved her. He’d been on his ass to fucking tell her, like how he’s been on his ass to get him to fucking propose, and only now was he actually believing it was all real? 

It pissed him off that his best friend doubted his feelings for her.

“Fuck you, man,” he replied, shoving the other man’s shoulder and watching his face fall. “Yeah, I fucking love her. I’ve fucking told you.” 

“Hey, hey—” Steve put up his hands in a placating gesture. “—I know you love her, Javier. I’ve known from how you’ve talked about her, but seeing it in person is something else.” 

“What do you mean?” His hands were perched on his hips, ignoring the beads of sweat dripping down his spine under his shirt. 

Steve smiled. “That ugly mug of yours—” He gestured at Javier’s face. “It’s clear in how you look at her. It’s like you’ve got fuckin’ hearts in your eyes or some shit,” he chuckled, Javier sighing. “I’ve known you for a long fucking time, Javi, and I’ve never seen you look at anyone the way you look at her.”

The explanation mollified him.

“I’ve never felt like this with anyone but her.” 

“I know.” His friend clapped a hand on his bicep. “And I’m really fucking happy for you, Jav.” 

“Thanks.” 

“I’m sweating my balls off. Let’s get inside.” 

“Yeah, it’s fucking hot,” he replied, heading toward the back of the rental. 

He didn’t need help carrying the bags or directions to the guest room. 

The house was nice and cool as he walked inside along the stone tiled floor and directly into their formal sitting room containing a long beige couch against the far left wall with a walnut-colored coffee table in front of it; a smaller version of the sofa along the wall beside the front door and under the large white-framed window, a chair that matched the same style across from it, and end tables at the sides of the couches. 

They never actually used this area unless they were hosting guests or during Christmas when Connie would rearrange the furniture to make it picturesque with their tree. Steve thought it was a waste of space; his wife could never know that.

His shoes came off with everyone else’s by the front door, where Connie had a shoe rack overflowing with pairs for adults and children, leaving his next to Cielito’s on the floor. Going further into the room, Steve headed for the kitchen while he turned down the hallway that opened to the right and led to the bedrooms and bathrooms. Olivia’s was the first door on the right. The second was a full bath themed around dolphins, her favorite animal, with them on the shower curtain, the art on the walls, painted on the toothbrush holder, and soap dispenser.

Next was Nate’s room, his door closed and across the hall from his parents’ master suite. 

The two boys’ rooms happened to be connected by a bathroom between them. Javier stopped in his tracks at Stevie’s open door—the woman he came here with, the one who made him the happiest man in the world, who he was going to marry and spend the rest of his life with, was sitting on the edge of his nephew’s bed with her back to the door, her attention on the child lying on his side facing her with his eyes closed under a light blanket as she rubbed small circles on his shirt-covered back.

Javier’s eyes crinkled at the edges when he smiled, a soft sigh leaving his lips. 

“She volunteered,” Connie whispered behind him, causing him to jump in his skin. “Sorry for scaring you—“ She squeezed his arm reassuringly. “She volunteered,” she continued. “Asked me how she could help and what Stevie’s nap time routine was, and it looks like she’s a pro. She’s great with him.”

“Yeah, she is.” He spoke just as quietly, glancing over his shoulder. “Rubbing his back still puts him to sleep?”

She playfully slapped his arm. “That’s your damn fault.”

“It makes him fall asleep, doesn’t it?”

“Quickest way. We do it with Nate, too.”

“Then why are you mad at me?”

“It’s not right you out-parented us. Now, you better marry this woman, Javier. It’s about damn time you become a father.” 

He scratched at his mustache. “You, uh, think I’d be a good dad?”

She looked at him like he was stupid. 

“Javier, you’ve always been so much help when you stay with us, and the kids adore you. Yeah, you’re gonna be a fantastic father.”

His throat was feeling tight. Steve arrived at Connie’s back, holding a beer. 

“What are y’all whispering about?” the other man quietly asked. 

“Javi being a great dad,” his wife replied, looking over her shoulder at him. 

“Oh, yeah, we’ve known that for years,” Steve said. “We just didn’t think you’d ever pull your head out of your ass and settle down.”

“Didn’t find the right person until now.” Javier shrugged. He peeked into the room, seeing his future wife was still occupied. Turning his head, he told the other two, “Follow me to the guest room. I need to ask you a favor.”

To be honest, you were really nervous about helping with nap time and stayed a little longer than necessary, rubbing the sleeping three-year-old's back to ensure he truly was passed out.  

There’d been whispers in the hall that hadn’t helped your nerves, wondering what the other three adults were saying amongst themselves and knowing it was probably about you, hoping it was positive. Steve and Connie seemed to like you, and she had trusted you to help with her child, so that was a good sign. They’d disappeared into the guest bedroom, down and across the hall, Connie had pointed out earlier when she gave you a very quick tour. 

You figured it was probably safe to leave now, ensuring the toddler was tucked in under his dark blue blanket before you’d gotten up and quietly tip-toed out of the door you closed behind you with a soft click. 

It didn’t take too many steps to get to where the guest room door was cracked open, with light spilling out into the hallway, and muffled voices could be heard. You entered, finding your boyfriend and the other couple huddled at the foot of the queen-sized bed directly in front of you.

The walls were painted a soothing greige, the greyish-beige color accented by the eggshell white ceiling, trim, and doors for the closet and en suite. An interesting choice was the wrought iron bed frame that looked old and out of place alongside the nice newer black bedside tables and dresser across from it and the stone-colored armless accent chair in the corner—even the lamps were modern, making the dark, possibly rusting, iron stick out like a sore thumb. The large framed photos of ocean waves crashing and rolling decorating the walls made up for it, though, enjoying the room's atmosphere. 

Javi’s head turned toward you, and he smiled. “Hey, baby.” He took a couple of steps to grab your hand and pulled you over to the Murphys. 

“What were you guys talking about?” you asked. 

“Going to the beach tomorrow,” Connie answered with a big smile. “Olivia’s staying home from school, and we were thinking we’d spend the day there.” 

That made you grin. “I’d love that!” Javi pulled you into his side. 

Your bags were on the ground in front of the dresser. 

“I know,” your boyfriend said, kissing your hair. 

It had warm fuzziness spreading through your veins at how thoughtful they were. 

“Well, glad we’ve got that figured out,” Connie announced, clapping her hands together. “Javi knows, but let me show you where everything is.”

“Okay.” 

She took you into the pretty standard bathroom—the combination shower/bathtub against the furthest wall from the door with a floral printed shower curtain on a golden rod; the bathroom vanity on your right as you walked in, painted white with a similar color laminate countertop and sink with red handles to open the drawers and cabinets under the sink, a large mirror hanging on the wall above it, and the toilet in the space between it and bath. She opened the doors under the sink so you could see where the towels and washcloths were kept and led you back into the bedroom to open the closet door so you knew where the extra blankets were. 

“—and I’m sorry about the bed.” Connie grimaced. 

“Yeah,” Javi interjected. “What happened to the old bed frame?” His hands were on the top of the footboard that looked like a wide, upside-down U made out of a thick pipe, with two smaller ones going across and others connecting those two in the middle. He gave it a little shake, the metal squeaking loudly.

“Steve saw this—” She pointed at it. “—and said it reminded him of a bed he’d slept in at his grandparents, and he just had to buy it. He thought it’d look great in here.” 

“Right…” Javi replied, turning his head, and even though all you could see was the back of it, you knew he was glaring at his friend.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Steve asked, crossing his arms. “I have fond memories of spending time with ‘ol peepaw and granny. Like when he’d take me duck hunting.” 

You were pretty sure you heard Javi mutter, “Fuckin’ hillbilly.”

Obviously, he was not happy about the sounds the bed was making, and you were a little disappointed about it, too—he hadn’t been joking about Steve hating you fucking in here. 

The blonde man was smirking. “What was that?” 

“I said it’s great you’ve got fond memories,” Javi sighed, looking forward again with the fingers of one hand pressed to his forehead. 

“So,” Connie began, “again, I’m sorry about how squeaky the bed is—”

“I’m not,” Steve interrupted, which earned him a middle finger from your boyfriend, whom the blonde man simply laughed at. 

“I’m sure it’s not that bad,” you said, trying to keep things civil. 

“Hopefully,” the other woman replied with a nervous smile. “Well, we’re gonna get out of your hair ‘cause I’m sure you wanna freshen up after your flight.” 

“If it’s okay with you guys, I might take a cat nap after I shower. Getting up so early and traveling has exhausted me.” 

“Oh, that’s absolutely fine, honey.” She checked her watch. “We’ve got a little over an hour before Olivia is home, and the boys will sleep until right before she gets home. Come on, Steve, let’s leave them alone.” 

“Yes, dear,” her husband answered, following her as she walked out of the room, Javi moving to close and lock the door after them. 

He turned around with a grumpy expression, letting out a loud, long sigh. 

“I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think it is,” you told him as you took a couple of steps to the bed and started getting on it—immediately, high-pitched squeaks sounded with any kind of movement you made on the mattress. “Okay, so it’s worse than your bed at your dad’s…” 

“He did this on purpose,” he seethed, putting his hands on his slim hips while all his weight went to one side. 

You were lying on your side with your head propped up on your arm to look at him standing over by the door. 

“Uh, yeah, that’s obvious. It was a lot of effort to put into cock blocking you. He really doesn’t like the idea of you fucking under his roof.” 

“I told you he’d hate it—didn’t think he’d do this.” He pouted. 

You didn’t like how upset he was, and you had a great idea of how to cheer him up. 

Ignoring the ear-splitting sounds as you got up from the bed.

“Keep standing there, looking pretty. I’ll be right back.” 

You saw the confusion on his face for only a moment before you were walking around the front of the bed and away from him to go through the bathroom door beside the dresser. In seconds, you were back in the bedroom and tossing a white towel onto the grey chair in the corner on the other side of the en suite door. 

“Are you taking a shower?” he asked, watching with curiosity as you moved toward him, his eyes on yours. 

“Not right now,” you answered. “I’ve got more important things to do.” 

Finally, you were in his space. “Like what?” 

“You,” you answered, grabbing him by his open collar and tugging him toward you to crush your mouth against his, swallowing his moan. His arm went around your waist, the other hand on your back, allowing you to lick into his mouth, his tongue eagerly moving with yours in a familiar dance you both knew all too well. 

Arousal was burning in your belly, feeling your heartbeat at the apex of your thighs, your need for him seeping into your underwear. 

Your fingers started working open the buttons on his shirt. 

“We can’t fuck on the bed,” he breathily said between kisses, a big palm grabbing your ass. 

“The chair,” you replied, nipping at his bottom lip. 

Suddenly, he was pulling back to look you in the eyes, his reddened lips glistening from spit while his shirt was unbuttoned, hanging open. 

“The fucking chair,” he rasped, a look on his face like he was only just realizing. 

“Yeah.” You nodded. “There’s also the floor, the counter in the bathroom, the shower, and the clear space at the wall right there—” You pointed behind where the door opened. “—if you were in the mood for wall sex, but you’re really upset about the bed—” You rubbed your hands up his bare chest. “—so I thought you’d enjoy getting ridden on the chair.” 

His lips turned up in a toothy grin. “I love you so fucking much.” He kissed you quickly.

You matched his expression, looping your arms around his neck. “I love you, too, and I’m not letting a sabotaged bed stop me from getting dicked down. We just have to be… creative and quiet.” 

His eyes darkened, the pink of his tongue peeking out for a second, and when he spoke, his voice had gone deeper and raspier. “You’re not tired,” he said matter-of-factly, his arm pulling you into him so your bodies were flush.

“Nope.” You popped the ‘p.’

“You don’t want to take a nap.” 

“I don’t want to take a nap,” you confirmed. 

His fingers slid along your cheek until he cradled your face, his gaze stuck to yours. “You want me to fuck you.” 

“Very much.” 

His head moved until his lips were grazing yours, nuzzling your nose with his. “What got you so worked up you couldn’t wait until we went to bed tonight, Cielito?” 

His proximity was fanning the flames of arousal inside you, making your entire body heat, your nipples tighten, and your lips tingle where his barely touched.

Snaking your hand between your bodies, you palmed his hard cock straining against the zipper of his pants. “Probably the same thing that has you hard as a rock—I can’t stop thinking about having babies with you.” 

“Fuck,” he groaned, thrusting into your hand. “I can’t fucking wait.” 

“To get me pregnant?” you purred, stroking him over his jeans. “Or to fuck me?”

“Both,” he growled, grabbing the hem of your oversized shirt and saying as he roughly pulled it up and off your arms to land carelessly on the floor, “and you fucking know it.” You did, and it made your pussy throb. 

“I do.” You helped him shrug off his button-up, your hands going to his belt next. “And I can’t fucking wait either.” The buckle clinked as you effortlessly worked it open and unbuttoned his jeans, hearing the teeth pull apart as you unzipped them. 

Warm palms held your face to make you meet the dark pools of his eyes. 

“To get pregnant,” his voice had gone lower, seeing his tongue quickly wet his bottom lip. “Or for me to fuck you?” 

His pants were undone, and with there being no underwear in your way, you reached in and took him in hand, his shaft feeling like steel wrapped in heated velvet—hot, hard, and silky to the touch. A thrill moved through you at his mouth falling open and eyes closing, his groan going straight to your cunt. 

“Both,” you answered. 

One word and he became ravenous, desperate, smashing his mouth to yours in a passionate kiss while he went about undressing you as he walked you backward toward the chair—your bra getting tossed somewhere to your left, his lips leaving yours and stopping long enough for him to tug down your leggings and underwear in one fell swoop. He ghosted kisses up your body when he rose again until your mouths were attached once more, continuing the journey to the corner chair, his arm holding you around your middle to help guide you, your hands hanging onto his shoulders. 

He spoke between presses of his lips to yours, “You looked so fucking perfect holding the kid…. You’re gonna be an amazing mother to our children…. I need you so fucking bad…. I wanna give you a baby…. Let me fuck a baby into you…. Please.” The last bits made you moan into his mouth, your nails digging into his skin. 

The lines were blurred, and you weren’t sure if this was him leaning into the kink you shared or if he was being serious. It was true you couldn’t wait to get pregnant, but you both were well aware the apartment you lived in wasn’t big enough for the addition of a baby and had been actively working with one of the only two architects in town to design the home you planned to build. There was also the fact you wanted to get married first, and the proposal was months away. As much as you both wanted a child, you couldn’t start trying for another year at minimum.

Why were you overthinking this? You would just have a discussion with him after the sex to make sure you were both on the same page. 

“God, yes,” you gasped. “I want it.” 

The soft fabric of the chair hit the back of your legs, his big hands gripping your asscheeks, murmuring against your lips, “Let me eat your pussy first.” 

“Later,” came your muffled reply. “This has to be quick, so we don’t get caught.” 

You could feel him frowning before he broke away. 

“I don’t fucking care if we get caught.” His eyebrows were furrowed, and his lips were turned down.

What he said made you sigh, another thing that had you overthinking. “I know you don’t care,” you kept your tone as gentle as possible, rubbing your hands over his bare back. “But I do. They’ve been your friends for years and already love you. I’m only just meeting them, and I don’t want to give them a bad first impression. Yeah, I’m okay with going against Steve’s wishes and fucking here, only as long as he doesn’t know. Does that make sense?” 

“Yeah, I get it. I’m sorry.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I was an asshole for even thinking of letting us get caught.”

“It’s okay.” Your hands skated along his naked sides. “Now, let’s get back to the sexy—I am so horny.” 

His hand fell. “Do you need me to finger you?” 

“I think I’m wet enough. One second, though.” You held up a finger before turning around and spreading the towel over the seat. Facing him again, you ordered, “Pants off, Mr. Peña, and sit,” and moved out of his way. 

He huffed out an amused breath, pushing down his jeans. “As you wish, Mrs. Peña.” Stepping out of them, a pained groan slipped from his throat as he straightened, taking the seat as you requested. 

The armless chair was about as wide as a dining room chair with some cushioning and a channel-stitched back, covered in grey velvet, the wooden legs painted black. Javi sat down, getting comfortable as he sat back and spread his legs. 

The sight before you had your mouth going dry. 

His lust-filled gaze was looking up at you, taking in the broad shoulders, the expanse of his golden chest down to his soft tummy, where below his belly button, a trail of hair led your eyes to his big hand slowly stroking his hard cock; the tip was red and shining from the steady dribble of precum leaking from it, that he was using to ease the glide of his palm—he was the perfect picture of seduction and you were under his spell, willing to do anything he wanted.

A crooked smile appeared under his mustache. 

“You wanna watch me jerk off?” he asked. “Or are you gonna ride me?” 

The questions snapped you out of your reverie. 

“Sorry,” you quickly apologized, stepping to stand between his widened knees. “You’re just so sexy, and you know, watching you jerk off really gets me going.” 

“I know, mi amor (my love),” he chuckled. 

His hand left his dick, the long shaft resting against the coarse hair on his belly. Gently, he tugged you by the arm down for a kiss, and you took over, slowly stroking him at the odd angle, making him groan into your mouth when you went lower to fondle his sack, his large palm reaching around to trace the curve of your ass before giving it a squeeze.

On occasion, your husband-to-be had the tendency to get caught up in kissing—Javi loved kissing, so when he pulled you forward by your backside, your arms went around his neck for balance, and you welcomed his tongue when it pressed between your lips. His palms slid up your sides to rest on your ribs as he plundered your mouth, your heart hammering in your chest, feeling slick coating your inner thighs. 

The needy ache in your core got worse and worse with every passing minute, finally getting to the point where you had to get him inside you, or there was a chance you were going to combust from the pent-up tension. 

You broke away, his lips chasing yours. 

“I need you,” you panted. 

His eyes met yours, his pupils blown so wide that only a thin sliver of chocolate brown remained. 

“Okay,” he said through heavy breaths with a nod. “I’ve got you, baby. Stand up.” 

You did as he said, watching as he spit on his fingers and rubbed the saliva onto his cock, doing it a couple of times until his entire length glistened in the bright overhead light. 

Once satisfied, his hands were on your upper thighs as he helped you get one leg over his onto the ground beside the chair, then the other to have you standing on either side of him and straddling his hips. Not wasting any more time, you reached between your legs, guiding him to your entrance, and slowly lowered. That first stretch always stole your breath, resting your arms on his freckled shoulders, one of his going around your back to bring you flush to his front, his free hand skating down your back to grip one plump cheek of your ass. 

Javi’s eyes had squeezed shut, his breath hitching, feeling how your walls were having to make space for the girth of him and relishing the slight burn from the lack of foreplay. He wasn’t even halfway in, and you rose until only the tip remained, dropping again to take a little more, doing the same thing over and over, taking more of him each time until he was fully seated inside you. 

The familiar fullness made you smile, a deep sigh leaving you at how good it felt. Your skin was buzzing just below the surface, your body hot all over, sweat beginning to form on your brow, and you were in heaven. 

His face was against your collarbone, his warm breath hitting your skin. “You feel so fucking good,” his voice was muffled, the hand on your ass tightening. “Fuck, te amo (I love you). No sé cuánto tiempo voy a durar (I don’t know how long I'll last). Úsame para hacerte venir (Use me to make yourself come). Úsame, por favor (Use me, please). ¿Puedes hacer eso por mí, Cielito (Can you do that for me, Cielito)? ¿Puedes hacerte sentir bien (Can you make yourself feel good)?” 

“Sí (Yes),” you answered. “Sí, Papí (Yes, Papí).” 

His chest rumbled under you from his groan, a hand coming down on your ass in a sharp slap that made you clench around him. 

“Monta me (Ride me),” he ordered, smacking your backside again. “Monta me duro, mi amor (Ride me hard, my love).” 

Grabbing the hair at the back of his head, you pulled on it as you straightened your spine to make him look at you, his eyes heavy-lidded when they blinked open, while yours narrowed in a glare. 

“Javier, stop smacking my ass,” you hissed. “We have to be quiet, and you better make sure I don’t get too loud.” 

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. 

“Lo siento, cariño (I’m sorry, sweetheart).” His warm hands rubbed along the sides of your spine. “Prometo, estar más callado y evitar que hagas mucho ruido (I promise, I will be quieter and keep you from making too much noise).”

“Thank you,” you replied, pushing his hair back from his face. Leaning in close, you gave him a gentle peck on his lips and the tip of his nose. “If you come before me, it’s fine—it would probably take me with you, anyway.” 

“Fuck,” he breathed, feeling him twitch inside you. “With how you’re soaking my dick, I think you’ll get off pretty fucking fast.” 

“Probably.” You shrugged and started rolling your hips, watching in delight as his mouth fell open in a moan and his body shuddered. 

His arm wrapped around your waist, the other hand holding your jaw, keeping his eyes locked on yours, your own arm over his shoulder, and free hand caressing the side of his face. Both of you were sharing in the pleasure, your bodies fitting together so perfectly like two puzzle pieces, breathing each other in, losing yourselves in this moment. 

He wanted you to use him to make yourself feel good, so you did. 

Standing made it easy to rise on your legs, sliding up his hard cock to leave only the head and fall back down, thrusting your hips forward on the downstroke to take him to the hilt and make him raggedly groan. 

Heat was blooming in your belly, getting hotter with every second you worked yourself on his dick. He pulled you in for a kiss, and you slowed to a grind, the rough curls at the base of his cock rubbing deliciously against the swollen bud of your clit, adding gasoline to the fire inside you.

Like this, he was in so deep you were sure you could probably feel him if you pressed on your stomach, and you knew if he knew that, he’d be a smug bastard about it, which was valid.

You started moving again, the kissing becoming sporadic as you rode him in earnest, your arousal spilling down his shaft to coat his balls. His fingers were digging into the cheeks of your ass, his arms flexing as he gave you momentum and helped you move. 

The two of you were trying your best to stay quiet and hold back your sounds, Javi’s face flushed and forehead wet with sweat, both unable to keep some noise from slipping out. The loudest sound was between your legs, hearing the wet suck of your slick gushing around him when his dick pushed into your drenched hole. 

Something about fucking in places where there was a chance of getting caught really turned you and him on. Add in, you were told without explicitly being told you weren’t allowed to have sex here, and the higher risk had you rocketing toward your orgasm—Javi was right; you were going to get off quick. 

His hands went to your tits, his thick fingers zeroing in on your pebbled nipples, pinching and rolling them before his mouth's hot, wet heat pulled one stiff peak into his mouth. 

“God, yes,” you moaned, pleasure shooting directly to your cunt as you bounced on his thick cock. 

The muscles in your belly were tightening, adjusting your hips so every time you sunk down, he was pressing into that one spot that dotted your vision with stars, his mouth giving your other breast the same treatment. 

This all felt amazing, but there was something you needed…

“Touch me,” you panted, rising and falling in his lap.

His head popped up, glazed over eyes looking at your face.  

“Anywhere?” he breathily asked, and the question made you stifle a moan. 

“Yes.” 

“I’ll get you there.” And you had no doubt. 

He started with tweaking your wet nipple, roughly pinching it, his other hand going between your bodies to rub his thumb against your sensitive clit, the sensations feeling like electricity arcing up your spine, making your rhythm stutter for a moment—the heat in your stomach was growing and getting hotter, the closer you were to your climax. 

“Hang onto my neck,” he told you.

“What?”

“Lean forward and hold onto my neck.” 

You did as he said, pressing into his front and hanging onto him. 

His hand on your breast moved to cup your bottom, and he adjusted in the seat, grunting as he sat up, the chair creaking beneath him. Your tempo slowed while he continued circling your bundle of nerves with one hand, his other arm reaching around your thigh to spread two fingers around where his cock was impaling you, feeling how he was stretching you open.

“Your tight little pussy takes my dick so well,” he spoke into your breasts with how you were raised up on your feet, his cock halfway inside you. “I swear I was fucking made for you.” 

A moan slipped from your lips unbidden when those same fingers slid through the abundance of your slick on his length and continued up, swiping along the edges of your puckered hole, causing sparks to dance in your center. One thick finger slowly pushed into the tight ring of muscle to the first knuckle, your eyes rolling back in your head and toes curling at the added fullness, biting your lip to keep yourself from making any noise. You worked yourself faster on his dick, tilting your pelvis so he was pressing into all of the right spots, his digit fucking in and out of you at the same pace, it all making you go dizzy with pleasure. 

Your inner walls were fluttering. 

“Come on, baby,” he rasped, not stopping what he was doing. “Once you come, I’m gonna fill you up.” His head lifted. “Gonna fuck you full of me.” He kissed your clavicle, maintaining your pace. “Stuff you so full of my come, I knock you up.” You whimpered and were almost there. “Isn’t that what you want?” His fingers were still circling your clit and pushing in and out of your asshole, your hips rolling on his cock. “For me to finally get you pregnant?” he asked. “I’ll fuck a baby into you, Cielito, all you have to do is ask.” 

And you knew he meant it, the thought entering your mind that you could throw out your birth control today, and odds were he’d have you pregnant by next month—that was what made you crest, sitting all the way down in his lap as you came, your body tensing up tight as euphoria exploded out from your center, spreading through your system. His hand on your front was suddenly over your mouth to smother your loud cry, your body trembling as you slumped into him. 

“Good girl,” his words came out thick and rough. “You’re so good to me.” 

Your chest was heaving, enjoying the aftershocks and the feel of your cunt spasming around his dick that was still hard inside you. 

His hand left your lips to ghost up and down your spine, and he removed the finger from your ass. 

“This baby stuff is getting dangerous,” you sounded drunk, slurring your words, your face in the crook of his neck. 

“What?” 

“Our breeding kinks. You wanna know the thing that fucking got me?” 

“Yeah.” 

Leaning back to look him in the eyes, you told him, “The thought that if I tossed my birth control today, you’d probably have me pregnant by next month.” His cock jerked hard inside you. “I got off on you being fucking virile.” 

His eyes were practically black, licking his lips before he spoke. “We, uh—” He cleared his throat. “—we, uh, could test your theory…?” The hope was there on his face, and it made you feel like utter shit to have to deny him of his dream. This man wanted to be a father so fucking bad, and you more than wanted to make him one. It just wasn’t feasible at this point in time.

You held his face in your hands, stroking your thumbs over his cheeks. 

“Javi, I love you,” you started. “I want to have all of your babies, but as we both know, the apartment is too small for us and a baby. There’s also the whole I want us to be married thing, too.” 

“Pop said we can move in with him while the house is being built, and we’ll be married before a baby is born.” He sounded very sure of himself. 

Your eyebrow lifted. “How are you so positive we’ll be married in less than ten months?” 

He smiled. “Because you pre-accepted my proposal and told me you didn’t want a big wedding.” 

That was something you told him. 

Standing in front of a giant room full of people you actually only knew a fraction of and being the center of attention sounded like a literal nightmare scenario. A tiny wedding with only close friends and family in attendance was something more your speed—hell, eloping seemed like a goddamn dream. 

It hit you then the possibility of how soon the two of you could be married, and excitement bubbled up inside you, doing the first thing that came to mind and kissing him deeply, cradling his smooth cheeks in your palms. His lips were soft and plush, his tongue delving into your mouth with a moan, it turning into one of those kisses that drove you wild. 

You needed to make him feel good. You needed him to feel your love and happiness.

His dick was still throbbing in your pussy, and you started rolling your hips, his hands cupping your backside, keeping you in charge of the rhythm while he assisted in your movements. 

The way he liked it when you were on top was for you to go hard and fast, so you lifted and slammed back down in quick succession. It was slippery between your thighs, his cock sliding easily in and out of your wet heat, the kisses turning messy with how you were moving on him. 

In this position with both of you sitting up, you could get him to come pretty quickly if you sloppily made out with him and occasionally clenched your cunt around his cock; he’d say that was playing dirty if this was a regular romp, but under current circumstances, they were legal maneuvers like how he toyed with your clit and put a finger in your ass. These were all finishing moves that generally only came into play during quickies, though, when he was in the mood to make you come multiple times, he was liberal in their usage—and every time you were about to utilize a move, the fatality screen from Mortal Kombat came to mind, hearing in your brain the announcer say, “Finish Him.” 

His eyebrows were knitted together, and his eyes were closed, the effort he was putting into being quiet causing pitiful whines to escape his throat. He was tense beneath you, every muscle in his body pulled taut like a bowstring close to snapping, and you knew he was almost there, clenching up around him on your downstrokes. 

“‘M close,” he murmured, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your behind and spreading your cheeks while helping you rise and fall.  

“Yeah?” you replied through heavy breaths. “I want you to come for me, Javi.” Your kiss landed on the side of his mouth. “I love you.” This kiss made it onto his lips. “I want to marry you, have your children, and spend the rest of my life with you.” 

He pressed his face into your chest, kissing what he could while you moved up and down—over the tops of your breasts, along your collarbones, up the line of your throat; all the while, he was saying against your skin, “Te amo (I love you). Me voy a casar contigo (I’m going to marry you). Te voy a dar todos los hijos que quieras (I will give you as many children as you want). Voy a pasar el resto de mi vida contigo (I’m going to spend the rest of my life with you). Fuck, te sientes tan bien (you feel so good). Eres perfecta (You’re perfect). No puedo esperar a verte embarazada (I can’t wait to see you pregnant).”  

“Embarazada con tu bebé (Pregnant with your baby),” you panted. 

A strangled noise came from him, shoving his face in your neck to mute it as he pulled you down to completely bury himself inside you. His teeth sunk into the spot where your neck met your shoulder, and you hissed at the pleasurable pain; his dick thickened, feeling it jerk, and the familiar wet pulse of spurts and spurts of his come gushing deep in your depths to fill you. 

You ran your fingers through his sweat-damp hair, his heaving breaths hot against your skin as he soothed over the bite with kisses, your own chest rising and falling rapidly, his arms hugging you close to him. 

The solutions he had so you could have a baby were rolling around in your head, and you wondered if it really would be that easy. 

Chucho would be over the goddamn moon if you guys temporarily moved in with him, and then a baby on top of that? His first nieto (grandchild)? The thing he constantly brought up? Chucho wanted to be a grandfather just as bad as Javi wanted to be a dad, and you knew he’d do anything for you both. 

Why were nerves fluttering around in your belly? You should be ecstatic, but there was a voice in your brain that sounded a lot like your mother pointing out you haven’t even been together a year. For all intents and purposes, you were still in the honeymoon stage of your relationship, and that’d have to end at some point. Would you both still feel the same after a year has passed? Two? Five? Ten? Would he still be as attracted to you after your body changed from pregnancy? 

These questions were stressing you out. 

“Javi?” 

He hummed in reply. 

“You know how you feel about me right now. Do you think you’ll still feel that way in a year?” 

His head came up with his eyebrows pulled together. 

“Yeah?” he answered. 

“What about in two years?” 

He was giving you a look like the answer was obvious. 

“Cielito, I’m gonna love you like this for the rest of my fucking life.” 

Your voice was small, “How can you be sure?” 

His hands had started rubbing comforting circles on your hips, looking at you with a tender gaze. 

“I’m my father’s kid,” he said, “and when we find the person meant for us, that’s it; it’s game over. We dedicate our lives to them, and we love them so fucking deeply we feel it in our souls—this is going to sound stupid, but Pop says we’re penguins.” 

“Penguins?” 

“Yeah, he watched some nature documentary and found out they mate for life—we’re penguins.” 

It made you grin. “That is the absolute cutest shit I have ever heard.” 

He smiled. “I knew you’d like it. Does that make you feel better?” 

“Yes,” you answered truthfully. “We’re mated for life.” 

“Yeah, we are, and I know it’s not gonna be all sunshine and rainbows. We’ll have our ups and downs like all couples do, but there’s no one else I’d rather go through the good and bad with.” The look on his face changed to something unsure. “Do you, uh, think your feelings will change?” 

“I don’t think so. My love for you is so embedded inside me that it sometimes feels like you’ve always been with me, and I just didn’t know. So, I think I’m a penguin, too.” 

He chuckled, leaning in to sweetly kiss you. When his lips left yours, he nuzzled your face. 

“Anything else you need reassurance about?” he gently asked with his nose sliding along yours. 

“Um, the other thing was if you’d still be attracted to my body post-pregnancy…” 

A thing you loved about Javi was how you could basically tell what he was thinking from the expression on his face, and right this second, as he stared at you, he was trying to work out how to politely tell you it was stupid to think he’d find you unattractive after having his baby.

“Are you talking about the body that grew our baby and kept them safe for nine months?” he asked, and yeah, you realized now how dumb it was to think something so absurd. “Yeah, I’m still gonna be attracted to you,” he continued, “the woman I love, who made me a father. I’m not gonna care about stretch marks or if you put on weight or any of the other shit that’ll change. You did something fucking incredible, and honestly, it makes me hard thinking about you being pregnant, so if there are things to remind me of that, I’m probably gonna be all over you constantly. Feel better?” 

That eased your worries. 

“Much.” You gave him a quick peck on the lips. “Thank you. Now, let’s go take a shower.” You started to move, and he stopped you. 

Hope was swirling in his eyes. “Is this a yes to a baby?” 

“This is a maybe on the baby, and we will need to have a long discussion with your father.” 

The smile he gave you was so blinding, you were sure it outshined the sun, a joyous laugh coming from him as he hugged you into his arms and squeezed you tight. 

“I’m so fucking happy.” The emotion was heavy in his voice. “Thank you so much.” He sniffled in your ear. 

Your hands slid over his back. “Don’t thank me yet. It’s not set in stone.” 

He pulled back, his eyes rimmed red, tears falling down his cheeks. 

“No,” he replied. “Thank you for loving me and being with me and wanting to have kids with me. I know it’s not a sure thing, but it’s the fact there’s a chance.” His voice cracked when he said the last word, his shoulders shaking. 

“Oh, babe.” You wrapped your arms around him and held him close to your body. 

This reaction for a maybe made you want to throw all caution to the wind and say fuck it, and just start trying, the rational part of your brain telling you to cool your jets. It was an angel and demon on your shoulders situation, with you leaning toward the baby, and it wasn’t going to help that the two of you would be around children for the next few days. 

The way Javi interacted with Stevie? Almost killed you. He was so sweet, and the child clearly loved him so much it had your ovaries aching. Three days, you were going to have to watch him with the Murphy kids, and you weren’t sure if you were going to survive or keep from throwing your birth control in the trash. 

You had to be strong. 

Javier knew this trip would be important since he was bringing his wif-girlfriend to meet his best friend’s family. He just didn’t expect also to get the news they might be able to start trying for a baby sooner than they had planned. 

Don’t get him wrong, he was excited about having their house built and getting to have a say in the design, but they were looking at twelve to fourteen months before it’d be ready to move into, and he did not want to wait that long to start their family—he was feeling… impatient. He’d already wasted enough of his life, and with him turning fucking forty on Sunday, he’d been plagued with thoughts of how many years he had left above ground. 

A couple of weeks ago, his therapist told him he was having a mid-life crisis, which he scoffed at because he sure as hell wasn’t buying some expensive sports car or chasing women half his age—he outright owned his dependable truck and was more than happy in his amazing and healthy relationship with a woman slightly younger than him. Then the therapist went for his jugular over why he’d begun wrestling with feelings of his mortality and how it started with him planning their trip to Miami and thinking about the Murphys and Cielito. What it boiled down to was he regretted the time he lost to his job and now felt unfulfilled that, at his age, he didn’t have a family of his own like Steve. 

The guy was right, and it annoyed him. 

It gave him a swift kick in the ass to figure out some things, though. 

Like how he went out to his dad’s last Tuesday after work to have a beer with him and ask if he was serious about them living with him if they were ever expecting and their home was still under construction—he said yes, and told Javier when Cielito eventually got pregnant he was planning to turn the guest bedroom into a nursery anyway. 

There was also the ring box he rolled up in a pair of socks tucked away at the bottom of the duffle bag he brought.  

He was ready to make some big changes, and by the end of this trip, he hoped more than anything he’d have a fiancée. 

After he got all of his happy tears out, they kissed and got off of the chair to take a shower, stopping on the way for her to grab her toiletry bag from her luggage. 

They washed each other and stole kisses, his hands wandering over her soapy skin with her giggles echoing in the stall. It didn’t take them very long to finish, going through their after-shower routines to get dry and do their hair. They changed into clean clothes, and he put on a lavender-colored button-up and some jeans, his eyes glued to her ass in the high-waisted denim shorts she was wearing as she bent over to put on her socks. He found himself closing the distance in two long strides to grab her hips, carefully bumping and rubbing the front of his pants against her backside. 

“Are you seriously humping me while I put on my socks?” 

He frowned. “I’m not humping you. You’d know if I was humping you.” 

“Fine. Are you seriously grinding on me while I put on my socks?”

“Maybe…”

She finished what she was doing, her socked feet planted on the floor, standing back up and turning in his arms. 

There was an exasperated look on her face as she smiled. “You’re so fucking ridiculous.” Her arms went around his neck. 

“They’re nice shorts,” he replied, making her laugh when he grabbed handfuls of her ass.

“Well, you’ll be excited to know I only brought shorts and leggings.”

He smirked. “I’m very excited about that.”

“Good. Have we been in here long enough that they’ll believe we showered and napped?”

Checking his watch, he answered, “We’ve been in here about an hour, so I think we’re in the clear.”

The look on her face shifted to something nervous. 

“Do you think we made too much noise?” 

For her comfort, he slid his hands up and down her sides. 

He’d never lie to her, so he told her the truth. “They’re on the opposite side of the house, and between them and us is their master bathroom that’s on the other side of that wall—” He pointed at the wall next to the door to the guest room’s en suite. “—then their walk-in closet, their big fucking bedroom, and finally you’d end up in the kitchen. Unless they used their bathroom or came down the hall to check on the boys, which I doubt because they have the baby monitors, I don’t think they heard anything.” 

“You’re sure?” 

The smile on his face was reassuring. “Yes. I’m not lying, Cielito.” 

She let out a breath, and her body seemed to relax. “Okay, fingers crossed they didn’t hear anything. Let’s head out there.” 

“Bésame antes de irnos, por favor (Kiss me before we go, please),” he said, puckering his lips.

“So polite.” She leaned in to kiss him.

When they separated, he took her hand, leading her out to find his friends. 

They found Steve in the actual living room they used at the back of the house, having to walk through the kitchen and dining room to get to it. There was a massive brown leather sofa in the middle of the room, Steve’s recliner next to it, a coffee table, and a decent-sized television in their entertainment center against the wall in front of the couch that had an abundance of VHS movies aimed towards children, and it looked like Connie had cleaned up after the boys, all of their toys put away in their toy box or back in their designated spots in the part of space designated for the kids. 

Walking in, they were behind the sofa, seeing Steve was watching ESPN and the highlights of a basketball game from the previous night between the Chicago Bulls and Orlando Magic, a beer held in his hand. 

His head turned toward them, his lips turning up in a shit-eating grin. “How’d y'all sleep on the bed?” 

Javier’s eyes narrowed. “Like babies.” 

Cielito moved to stand beside him in his friend’s view. 

Steve sputtered into laughter, and Javier frowned at the sudden outburst. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me!” the other man finally said. “Matching shirts?” He looked over at his future wife and her V-neck that was the same lavender color as his, he matched out of habit—all the shirts he brought had counterparts to what she had in her luggage. It was their thing. His friend wiped at his eyes. “Who are you, and what have you done with my asshole of a best friend?”

“I don’t see what the big deal is about us matching,” he replied, crossing his arms. “So what if we like to look good together? Where’s Connie?” 

“Doing laundry.” He nodded toward the door that led to the laundry room, and as if she were summoned, it opened, and she came in holding a large basket full of clothes against her hip with one arm. 

“Oh, great!” she exclaimed. “You’re up!” She paused after shutting the door. “Be honest with me, how bad is the bed? If you can’t sleep on it, I’ll pull out the air mattress.” 

Just the thought of sleeping on an air mattress made Javier’s body ache.  

“It’s pretty squeaky,” Cielito answered. “But we’ll survive. It’s seriously okay.” She waved away the concern.

“If you’re sure.”

Sounds started coming from the baby monitors on the coffee table, Stevie and Nate both in their separate bedrooms calling for their mom.

“Oh,” Connie said. “Looks like the boys are up. I’ll go put the laundry in our bedroom and get them.” 

“Don’t worry about it, Connie,” Javier told her. “I’ll get them.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah,” he replied. “It’s not a problem.” His head turned to the woman next to him. “Do you want to come with me or stay out here?” 

She smiled at him. “I’m sure you can use an extra set of hands—I’ll come with.” 

He nodded with a matching look, taking her hand once more and guiding her back to the hallway where the bedrooms were located. 

First, they stopped in Nate’s room, finding the tiny boy standing at the railing of his crib, crying for his mom. 

“Oh, mi precioso (my precious),” Javier cooed, quickly making his way over and scooping the child up. He held him on his hip, bouncing a little while rubbing his back. “You’re okay, buddy. Shhh, you’re okay. We’ll go see your mom in just a minute.” Turning to look at Cielito, she had a soft expression on her face. “Baby?” She was just staring, and it made him grin. “Mi amor (My love)?” 

She visibly jolted. “Sorry. Yes. Did you say something?”  

“Was trying to get your attention. I need to change his diaper. Do you wanna go get Stevie?” 

“I can get Stevie, yes,” she answered, nodding. “Be right back.” Immediately, she turned and left the room.

Nate had calmed down and wasn’t crying anymore, murmuring mom over and over again with his hand in his mouth. 

“That was your ​​tía (aunt),” he informed the little one as he walked him over to the changing table. “I know you can keep a secret,” he whispered, laying the child on the cushioned top. “I’m gonna propose to her tomorrow.” Grabbing a clean diaper and the wipes from the shelf underneath, he went about changing the toddler. “I figured out how I’m gonna do it last weekend,” he continued talking, his hands working. “So, she’s gonna be your tía, and hopefully soon you’ll have some primos (cousins).” He tossed the dirty diaper into the lidded bin he opened with the foot pedal, the kid now in a clean one as Javier buttoned back up his turquoise onesie with a sleeping long-eared, white, spotted dog on it.  

“Who’s that?” Came his soon-to-be fiancée’s voice from the doorway. He turned his head to see her holding the other boy in her arm while she pointed at him with a smile. 

“Tío!” Stevie shouted, grinning. “Tío and Nate!”

Javier picked up the younger of the two children and smiled. 

“That’s right, buddy,” he said, turning toward them. “Who’s holding you?” 

The three-year-old pressed his finger against Cielito’s chest. “Tía!”

“Good job!” He was close to them now, affectionately ruffling the kid’s dirty blonde hair with his hand and making him laugh. “You’re so smart.” 

Stevie held out his arms to Javier, and he quickly took him in his free arm, both boys sitting comfortably on each of his hips.

“Oh, no,” his future wife breathed, staring at him with wide eyes. 

Concern was etched on his brow. “What?” 

“My ovaries feel like they’re gonna explode.”

“Is that a bad thing…?” He wasn’t sure. 

“For my self-control? Yes. For you getting that thing you want really bad? No.” 

“What thing do I want…?” 

Her answer was to point at Nate, and his heartbeat stuttered, sucking in a breath.

This meant she really was contemplating them not waiting to have a baby, and it made hope swell in his chest. He didn’t want to be an asshole and deliberately wear down her resolve. Still, he also couldn’t control how he usually interacted with the Murphy kids, which apparently was getting to her—it made him happy that she was so affected by him being great with the children. He was beginning to think this trip was going to show her that he’d be a decent father.

He didn’t have a chance to respond, hearing from down the hall in the living room, Olivia shouting, “Is he here?!”

She must’ve just gotten home from school. 

“Sissy’s home!” Stevie exclaimed. 

“It sounds like she is,” Javier replied. “Let’s go see her.” He looked at Cielito. “Ready to meet the oldest?” 

“Yep.” 

Running footsteps could be heard as they made their way out of the room, his wif-girlfriend behind him on their journey toward the sound of voices. The young girl seemed to have run to where her father was in the living room because she came speeding back through the dining room that connected it to the front sitting area and finally found them. 

“Tío!” Olivia had a big grin, missing a couple of baby teeth in the front, throwing her arms around his middle when she reached him, hugging him hard. 

“Hola, mi sobrina (Hi, my niece). Lo siento, no tengo brazos para abrazarte en este momento (I’m sorry, I don’t have arms to hug you right now).”

Steve and Connie felt that Olivia should learn Spanish and had enrolled her in after-school classes for it since she first started going to school. Her dad’s Spanish was shit, and her mom’s wasn’t much better, so any time she needed help with homework she’d call Javier.  

“Está bien (It’s okay). Estoy feliz que estás aquí (I’m happy you’re here).”

Connie was walking up, having come from the kitchen. Nate immediately reached toward her and chanted Mom.

“I’m here, baby,” she said, taking him from Javier and returning to where she’d been. 

With a hand free, he patted Olivia’s back. 

“Hi, Sissy!” Stevie greeted. 

“Hi, Stevie,” she replied. 

“¿Cómo te fue en la escuela (How was school)?” Javier asked the nine-year-old. 

She let go of him to look up and meet his eyes. 

“Bien (Good). Aprendí sobre (I learned about), ¿cómo se dice dinosaurs (how do you say dinosaurs)?”

“Los dinosaurios. ¿Qué te enseñaban sobre los dinosaurios (What did they teach you about dinosaurs)?”

“Oh, my teacher wasn’t teaching us about dinosaurs today,” she said, switching to English. “I don’t know what she was teaching.” The girl shrugged. “I was too busy reading this book I got in the library about dinosaurs.”

He smiled. 

“Which dinosaur is your favorite?” 

“Triceratops! They could take on T-Rexes. I want to look for dinosaur fossils when I’m older!”

“You want to be a paleontologist?” 

She looked confused. “What’s a pale—a palien-tol-gist?”

“Paleontologist,” he said slower. “They’re scientists who study fossils.” 

“Yes, I want to do that!” She nodded enthusiastically. 

“Sissy!” Stevie loudly called, bouncing in Javier’s hold. “Sissy!” 

“Yes, Stevie?” 

“Tía’s gonna make cookies with me!” 

Confusion was on her face again. “Tía?” 

It made him realize he hadn’t introduced the young girl to his other half. 

“Yes, your tía,” Javier told her and moved the toddler from one arm to the other so he could wrap the free one around Cielito’s waist. “Olivia, I want you to meet the woman I’ve told you about who I’m gonna marry.” He introduced her to Cielito. 

“Oh! Cielito!” She looked over at the older woman. “Hi!” She waved.

Cielito was smiling. “Hi,” she replied. “It’s nice to meet you, Olivia.” 

“It’s nice to meet you, too. I wanna make cookies! What kind?”

“Chocolate chip.” 

“My favorite!” 

“Mine, too.” 

“Cookies!” Stevie shouted, making Javier snort and his future wife giggle. 

“Better head to the kitchen,” Javier said. 

“Yeah,” Cielito responded. “Let’s all go make cookies. You too, Olivia.” 

“Yes!” The girl did little jumps of excitement. 

In the kitchen, they found the ingredients for the cookies waiting for them on the counter, Connie having already gotten them out along with measuring cups and spoons, a large bowl, and an electric hand mixer. Hands were washed, including Stevie’s, who had a little stool to stand on so he could help as well as a toddler could. 

Cielito entranced the children as she walked them through step by step how to make the cookie dough, and Javier left the room for only a minute to run to the bedroom and grab his camera. 

She had Stevie in front of her on the stool, holding the toddler’s little hand to help him scoop the flour and sugar into the bowl, and Olivia next to her. She showed the young girl how to crack the eggs, and when they got to adding the chocolate chips, they all took handfuls to snack on—and through it all, Javier took pictures, getting candids of them laughing and others where he asked them to look and smile at him, Stevie always grinning big and saying cheese. 

Baking with a three-year-old was chaotic with how he wanted to touch and get into everything, but Cielito handled it like a champ and had the patience of a saint. 

It all had him thinking about their future, easily picturing her doing this same thing with their own kids. It reminded him of how some of his favorite memories growing up were cooking with his mom, and it made his eyes burn that his children would get to have similar experiences.

What he has known, and was being proven right, was he’s found his perfect match and the person he was supposed to spend his life with. 

From the moment he met her, there was something about her, some kind of pull—he was drawn to her like a moth to a flame, and as he got to know her, she engulfed him, and he fell hard. After their first date, on his drive home, he experienced something new: he imagined what his future would look like with her in it. A lifetime played out in his mind of them dating, getting engaged, married, buying a house, getting a dog, and he’d never felt so much hope before. 

He didn’t think he had a chance in hell to make it a reality. He was positive he’d fuck it up before the third date. 

By some miracle, he didn’t. 

When he thought about those first few dates, the second was when he fell in love with her—that was when he knew she was it. By the third date, he knew he was going to marry her. 

A thing about Javier was when he put his mind to something, he got it done, and he didn’t like to waste time—this evidently also included relationships. He fucked up when he said he’d propose on their anniversary because there was no way he was going to be able to wait that long—and he cracked quicker than an egg hitting a wall. 

How could he not when she was so perfect?

Life was dull before her, empty; he always felt like something was missing. She was what was missing, filling that space inside him, turning everything vibrant and lively. There were an infinite number of ways their lives could’ve played out, and he knew in every single one the path he chose would always lead him back to her—they were meant to find each other. 

His love for her burned brighter than the brightest star in the night sky, and she was a part of him now—he could feel her burrowed deep down in his bones to the point there was no him without her any longer. She was his first and the only love of his life; there was no one before, and there wouldn’t be anyone after because she was the one for him. 

And when he held her, he held the entire world in his arms. 

She was his world. 

She was everything. 

And in less than twenty-four hours, she would hopefully say yes when he asked a particular question while holding a ring. 

Until then, he’d try to stay calm while watching her interact with his friend’s kids and ignore how his chest was filled with so much happiness he thought it might burst. These glimpses of what she’ll be like as a mother were driving him crazy, and it was taking everything in him not to haul her back to the bedroom and show her how much he loved it—they couldn’t, anyway, with the kids wanting to spend time with them and the damn bed. Fucking Steve.

He didn’t want to rile himself up, so he’d do his best to avoid thinking about her being the mother of his children or how earlier she said maybe to a baby.

Who was he kidding? It was all he could think about, and he was dying to get her alone.

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Thank you for reading! If you’d like to be tagged in my fics, please fill out the form in my bio, on my masterlist, or just let me know! 

Tagging: @theorganasolo @nicolethered @nessamc @vanemando15 @fiscinthirst @melancholyy-hill @hnt-escape @sherala007 @jadesabre83 @rainbeaubrightchild @blub-senpai @pedrohoe04 @theherothesavior @captain-creampuff @javiersjeans @zetasaturno99 @amb11 @lovedbyth3sun @siidereeus @marvelousmermaid @mrszdjarin @themarcusmoreno @ms-loverman-066 @star-wars-fan-2005 @kissing-stars @chloeinpink @notyourlovemonkey @unofficialavenger90 @fictionismyreality @sheetsof-lennon @damnyoupedro @katareyoudrilling @iamskyereads @enjoyourlattebitch @daddydindjarin @absurdthirst @kirsteng42 @littlemisspascal @athalien @thevoiceinyourheadx @elegantduckturtle @harriedandharassed @girlofchaos @mswarriorbabe80 @theewokingdead @guess-my-next-obsession @pedrostories @deadhumourist

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Learning to Live Part 26

summary: Watching Javier with Steve and Connie Murphy’s three kids has you experiencing a bad case of baby fever. Some important discussions lead to making a big decision, and there’s one question you hadn’t anticipated being asked...

rating: E (18+!! No y/n, alternating POV, age gap (about ten years), explicit smut, sneaking around (you have to be quiet so the Murphys don’t hear you), unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), creampie, vaginal fingering, kinda rough sex (Javier works out his frustration on you), oral sex (f receiving), (MASSIVE) breeding kink, dirty talk, spit as lube, Javier saying very romantic things while he’s balls deep inside you, Steve trying to cockblock Javier with an obnoxiously squeaky bed (all it does is piss off Javi), Javier being a menace, misunderstanding, grumpy Javier, Javier being very cute with children, baby fever, emotional hurt/comfort, discussion of pregnancy/childbirth and fears, a dream sequence, death of a parent/grief, marriage proposal (it’s so romantic), love confession, mention of PTSD, an appearance of The Tac Vest™ (in a photo), Olivia and Javier talking shit about her dad in Spanish because Steve doesn’t understand, Connie being the best)

pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader

word count: 24.5k+ (It’s a good time)

a/n: Hello there! This is a BIG chapter both in number of words and in terms of plot. Since this is a super long one, odds are the Tumblr app isn’t going to let you reblog with a comment—it’s a known issue. I haven’t heard of any problems if you go onto Tumblr.com directly through a browser, though. Since reblogs are super important, it’s totally okay if you reblog without a comment, and if you wish to comment, you can either do it on the post through comments or by sending me an ask! I’m chill with whatever you feel like doing. 🥰🥰🥰 Thank you all for coming on this journey with me. This is something we’ve been looking forward to, and I hope you enjoy! Thank you to the love of my life, @juletheghoul, for betaing and being a trooper for this monstrosity of a chapter.

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to know what you thought!

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Baby fever was real.

And it was dangerous.

At least that was the only explanation you had for this overwhelming desire to have your own child that needed, specifically, to be fathered by the love of your life, Javier Peña.

It was cool in the house, and you were in shorts and a loose t-shirt, yet your skin was heated, watching from your seat on the leather sofa as the man you were going to marry played with the two older Murphy children—you weren’t entirely sure what the game was, but it involved Javi holding the three-year-old son in one arm while he dueled their nine-year-old daughter, Olivia, with hard, yellow foam swords. They were over in the empty space of the family room designated for the kids with the toy box against the wall beside a kitchen playset and a tiny red plastic table with two matching tiny chairs, other larger toys lining up in a row next to them.

The three-year-old, Stevie, was laughing while your boyfriend moved about, dodging the young girl's attempts at jabbing him. A big smile was plastered on Javi’s face with sweat beading on his brow, and you were doing your damndest to ignore the primal instinct that had ensured the survival of the human species, purring in the back of your mind as it zeroed in on him as the perfect man to procreate with.

He was so strong, so caring, so kind, so handsome.

So perfect.

Beautiful chocolate-colored eyes you dearly loved met yours, and he winked, making you suck in a breath as you melted into the cushion behind you, not even embarrassed you were literally swooning.

The leather creaked and complained when someone sat down next to you, your attention still on the future father of your children.

“I told you he smiles and laughs with my kids,” Steve said beside you.

Your head whipped toward him, finding that he was holding a giggling Nate up in the air, bringing him down to kiss all over his face and lift him again.

When you first arrived, you wondered how involved a parent Steve was.

Many men left the childrearing to the mother, and with him not helping with nap time or volunteering to get the boys when they’d woken up, you thought he might be one of those men. What you came to find out was his kids adored him, and he was very present.

Earlier, you made chocolate chip cookies with Olivia and Stevie. Their dad happened to come into the kitchen just as you were putting them in the oven, and the kids flocked to him to excitedly tell him all about how they’d helped. He had picked up his three-year-old and smiled as he listened, taking them to the living room so Javi and you could clean up the mess you made. When it was time to eat the freshly baked cookies, Stevie ate his Connie-approved two cookies while sitting on his father’s knee at the kitchen table, Olivia eating her own in the seat beside them.

So, Steve was pretty great with his children.

When you commented about it while alone in the kitchen with your husband-to-be, he whispered to you about how it wasn’t always like this. Back in Colombia and when Steve first returned to Miami, he had that shitty patriarchal mindset that Connie should be the one to care for their daughter—that was, until Javi showed up and stepped in to help Connie with Olivia. Apparently, that triggered something in Steve and lit a fire under his ass to be a better father and husband.

Connie was currently on a run to the store, and Javi had taken it upon himself to entertain the energy-filled kids. Steve was handling Nate duty himself since the little one was super attached to his parents, especially his mother.

“Yes, you did,” you replied to the older man.

The toddler was now cuddled in his arms, repeating Dadada over and over again.

Steve looked at you. “He asked us earlier if we thought he’d be a good dad.”

“And how did you answer?”

White teeth appeared when he smiled. “We told him he’d be a great dad, and it was about damn time he became one.”

Your lips tipped up, glancing over at the man you were talking about, who was now down on his knees and being attacked by both of the children wielding the swords, shielding his head with his arms.

“Yeah, it really is.” Facing Steve again, you asked, “How did you know you were ready to be a parent?”

He snorted. “Did Javi ever tell you about how we got Olivia?”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “He told me you adopted her in Colombia…?”

Leaning in, he spoke a little quieter, “The story doesn’t start off too happy, but I know Jav’s told you about what things were like down there.”

“Hell.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, nodding his head. “Javi and I found her when she was a baby in the home where Pablo Escobar’s sicarios murdered her mother and grandmother—would’ve murdered her, too, if we hadn’t shown up.” He took a deep breath like he was remembering, your eyes widening at the horror.

Murdering a defenseless baby? They were monsters.

“Escobar was also responsible for the death of her father,” he continued. “She was so tiny and had no one. I was worried more people would come for her, so I brought her home with me. Connie wasn’t too happy about it at first.” A smile pulled up on his lips as he chuckled. “And we sure as hell weren’t prepared for a baby, but we’d always wanted kids and had just about given up until we got her.” He was smiling fondly now, looking past you at his daughter. “We fell in love with her, and it was an easy decision to adopt. So, to answer your question—” He met your eyes. “—I didn’t know I was ready to be a dad until after we got the kid. Sometimes, you don’t get a chance to feel ready before it happens, but I’ll tell you, the moment you hold your baby, the instincts kick in fast.”

“That’s good to know.”

“All these questions about parenthood between the two of you.” He nodded his head toward Javi, then you. “Are y’all trying?”

The question had you making a face, wondering why it was socially acceptable to discuss your sex life when it came to reproducing.

“If you must know,” you started, “we’re currently just practicing… A lot. Like practically once a day if we’re in the mood, and I think we’ve got it pretty figured out, especially the unprotected sex part.”

His nose had wrinkled like he smelled something bad, deeply frowning in disgust. “I don’t wanna know that.”

“You asked!”

Javi was suddenly standing in front of you, breathing hard and holding his beer he picked up from the coffee table.

He took a long drink, asking Steve when he finished, “What did you ask her?” He shooed the other man away with his free hand. “Move over.” Steve and Nate scooted to the other side of the couch so your boyfriend could plop down beside you.

Stevie was playing with some toy cars, and Olivia had disappeared.

Javi’s arm went over your shoulders with his side pressed against yours, bringing the brown bottle back up to his lips.

Looking at him, you saw his throat work as he swallowed the beer, rubbing your hand over his jean-clad thigh. “He asked if we’re trying for a baby.”

The liquid must’ve gone down the wrong pipe, your boyfriend making a choked sound and sputtering, it evolving into a coughing fit. You got his arm over your head to lean him forward to pat his back, Steve’s eyes finding yours.

“I swear I don’t do this on purpose,” you said. “I didn’t think it was something he’d react to.”

“Does this happen often?” the blonde man asked, looking both concerned and mildly amused.

“Kinda?” You grimaced. “But not on purpose!” Your attention moved to your boyfriend. “Are you okay, babe?” His coughing had stopped, and he’d set his drink back on the coffee table.

“Yeah,” he hoarsely answered. His head turned in your direction, his eyes red-rimmed and watery. “You’re just as bad as Pop with making me choke.”

“I’m sorry, Javi.” Your hand was gliding up and down his spine. “You know what, from now on, I’m going to stop you from drinking before I say anything.”

“Why don’t you just wait for me to finish drinking?”

“The delivery, babe. Timing is everything for a joke to land or a snappy reply. Don’t wanna throw off my groove.”

He huffed out an amused breath, sitting back up on the couch. “Okay, your plan works.” Leaning forward, he pecked you on the lips before turning his attention to Steve. “We’re trying as much as we can with her on birth control—we go at it like fu-reaking rabbits, and with it only being 99% effective, maybe we’ll be that one in a hundred, and she gets pregnant.”

“I hate you,” Steve said evenly. “I hate you both. All you needed to say was no.”

“Why are you mad?” Javi asked. “You asked about our sex life, and we answered.” He looked over at you. “What did you tell him, mi amor (my love)?”

“That we’re practicing and really good at the unprotected sex part.”

A smirk appeared under his mustache, his eyes sparkling with mischief, and you knew he was just fucking with Steve now. “Yeah, we are really good at it.” His attention went back to the other man. “We told you the truth. Don’t ask questions if the answers are gonna make you uncomfortable.”

Steve’s eyes narrowed as he said, “Everyone else in the world would have answered that question with a simple yes or no. The two of you are perfect for each other with how much you fuc-fudging enjoy messing with me.”

“She’s mi media naranja, my soulmate,” Javi replied. “We are perfect for each other.”

“Uh huh, calm down, Romeo.” Nate was wiggling out of Steve’s arms, and the man helped him climb down from the couch, the child toddling over to play with his brother. “Now I’ve been watching you both since you got here,” he continued, “and anyone with eyes can see how much y’all wanna be parents. You may be a couple-a—” He whispered the next word. “—assholes—” He spoke normally again, “But I think you guys would do a pretty good job at it—that’s just my opinion, though.”

Javi had grabbed your hand and laced your fingers together, giving it a gentle squeeze as happiness seared through your veins.

“Thanks, man,” Javi said.

“You’re welcome, Jav.” Steve grinned, patting him on the shoulder. “You both do know the quickest way to get pregnant is for her to be off birth control, right? Do I need to give you the sex talk? Tell you about the birds and the bees? Explain how babies are made?”

Your boyfriend flipped him off out of view of the children, the other man laughing.

“We know, you—” He lowered his voice so that the kids wouldn’t hear. “—dick—” His volume went back to normal. “We’ve gotta figure out some things before we pull the trigger.”

“And what if you end up being the one in a hundred, and she gets pregnant before you figure those things out?”

Javier’s attention turned to you with a hopeful look, bringing up your joined palms so he could kiss the back of yours.

“We’d be okay,” you answered truthfully, your boyfriend smiling as he set your hands down. “If it happens sooner than we planned, then it happens sooner than we planned, and we’ll be excited no matter what.”

“Yeah,” Javi added. “We will.”

The trip was going better than Javier anticipated, and it was only the first day.

He had a feeling his friends and their children would like his fiancée-to-be, and he’d been correct. The Murphys all loved her to the point that Steve and Connie were on him about marrying her. Now his best friend was saying they’d be good parents, which, when added to Cielito telling him earlier, they might be able to start their family soon. Javier was so happy, he felt like he was on top of the world.

There were two things he wanted more than anything: to marry the woman sitting beside him and to become a father.

As long as she said yes to his proposal, he figured they’d be married within the next six months, depending on what she wanted to do for the wedding. The marriage was pretty much in the bag with all of her reassurances that she'd say yes, but there were still small tendrils of doubt creeping their way into his brain and making him worry if she’d really be wearing an engagement ring the next day.

He stamped down the negative feelings by remembering the times she practiced saying yes to his proposals and, of course, the fact she had already pre-accepted.

With all that in mind, he was sure he could cross off marriage from his list, which made him feel a bit giddy.

The thing that was going to require work was becoming a father.

Even though they both wanted a child, she had, and there wasn’t a better word than stipulations that needed to be met before she wanted to go for it. He both loved and hated how responsible she was being. The list included:

Get help with his mental health.

Get married.

Move into a bigger place.

The first thing he did was start going to therapy, and it had helped a lot over the past months, especially with the Stechner shit. A lot of old wounds had been opened, and it was finally time for Javier to tell the woman he planned to marry about Colombia, finding it cathartic, even with the nightmares he was plagued with for the week after. She was there every time he woke up in a panic and helped calm him down, soothing him with her words and touch.

His therapist had clocked him early on as having PTSD, and at first, he didn’t believe him because guys who fought in wars and did active combat came home with PTSD, not DEA agents doing drug busts and taking down cartels.

Javier’s therapist was a short, stocky, bald man in his sixties with a calming voice who didn’t like to beat around the bush and told it like it was. His response to Javier’s denial was to lay it all out that the war on drugs was still a war, and Javier had been a soldier who witnessed and experienced a lot of horrific PTSD-inducing shit that he needed to work through. He had worked through it, but the incident with Stechner had triggered him and brought it all back. Luckily, he was fine after about a week with help from his therapist and wif-girlfriend.

So, he’d taken care of his mental health, and marriage was on the horizon—that was two out of three.

Moving into a bigger place was where things got tricky.

Initially, they had planned to buy a house, and then his dad gave them the idea to build one on his land, which sounded great, except for how long it would take. They ended up loving the thought of being able to design their dream home and decided that was what they were going to do, and were now working with an architect—everything else was figured out. His tía María’s husband had his own construction business and would be building it, and they found the perfect spot a little down the road from his dad’s house that was close to him but also far enough they’d have privacy where they’d build. Chucho was thrilled they were going to be next-door neighbors.

It was going to take, at minimum, a year for the home to be built.

Javier didn’t want to wait that long to start trying for a baby, so he figured out a way for them to move out of their one-bedroom apartment into someplace bigger while they waited for their house to be finished, and it was living with his father, who was beyond excited by the prospect.

She seemed to be okay with that, and he hoped it was enough for her to give them the green light to start their family, but she wanted to discuss it with Chucho, which he understood. It was just driving him crazy that he was so fucking close, it was within reach, yet he had to wait for her to talk to his dad on Sunday when they were seeing him next.

The sounds of the front door being unlocked and opened made it to where they were, the two small Murphy boys jumping to their feet as they both yelled, “Mom!” They ran from the room.

“I better go help her with the groceries,” Steve said, grunting as he got up from the couch on his long legs and headed for his wife.

It was just Javier and his future wife in the room—they were alone, and immediately he was turning in his seat toward her, dipping his head to kiss and suck at the side of her neck, his hand sliding up her thigh.

“Javi,” she gasped, her fingers tangling into his hair.

She smelled so good, the sweet aroma welcome as his lips trailed up to tug her earlobe between his teeth, his palm resting on her inner thigh, feeling the heat between her legs.

His mouth pressed against her ear, whispering, “I saw how you were watching me playing with the kids—how much you liked it.” She sucked in a breath, and he smiled. “You say the word, and we can have one of our own—I’m more than willing to give you a baby, Cielito.”

“This is rude,” she breathed, pulling his hair.

Javier chuckled, smacking a loud kiss against her cheek.

His hand left her leg to cup her jaw and turned her head to look him in the eyes.

“I’m serious, mi amor (my love),” he said. “You know how fucking badly I want one, and when you’re ready, I’ll make it happen—I wanna prove you right that I can get you pregnant within a month.”

The way her pupils expanded told him his words were getting to her.

“I cannot believe you’re tempting me with your virility, and it’s fucking working,” she whispered, and he grinned. “God, you’re gonna be such a good dad.” There was a slight whine as she quietly spoke. “Our kids are gonna be obsessed with you, and you’re gonna be obsessed with them and me being pregnant and an amazing partner through everything. Like, I am this close—” She held her thumb and index finger so close together they almost touched. “—to saying fuck it, let’s make a baby.” Arousal sparked in his belly. “But then that annoying, overly cautious, responsible part of me cuts in to remind me I need to double-check with your dad that he’s really okay with us living with him—yes, I remember him making the offer months ago—you know I hate being a bother, though, and I’m worried he likes the idea and would hate the reality of living with his son and a pregnant woman that will eventually also include a newborn.” She chewed on her lip.

“His pregnant nuera (daughter-in-law),” Javier corrected. “And he told me he’d love for us to move in just last week. He was already planning on turning the guest room into a nursery when you got pregnant.”

“Oh.” Her eyes widened. “Fuck,” she whispered.

Javier frowned, wondering if she thought the nursery was too much.

“He’s just excited to finally become an abuelo (grandpa), and even if we weren’t moving in, he wanted to make sure he’s got shit for the baby when we visit—he said it’d come in handy ‘cause he’d be happy to babysit anytime we needed him to. And if we do move in with him, he’ll already have a space dedicated to our kid.”

“Right,” she said the word slowly, like she was thinking it over. “Yeah, that’s great he cares so much, and it’s so sweet. We, um, just need to make sure he’s prepared for a newborn, like the crying and all that…”

“He is, and he’ll love having us there with a baby.”

“How do you know?”

“Promise me something,” he said.

Her eyebrows creased. “Okay?”

“Promise me you won’t get sad with what I’m about to tell you.”

“You know I can’t promise that.”

He sighed. “Fine. Promise me you won’t mention it to him.”

“That’s something I can do.”

“Since mi mamá passed away, Pop has been really fucking lonely living in that house alone, but there’s no way in hell he’d ever think about moving. He hates being by himself out there, and he’ll probably work until the day he dies to spend as little time in it as possible.”

Tears were brimming in her eyes. “That’s so fucking sad, Javier.”

“Yeah, and I was a fucking asshole who came home from Colombia twice and fucked off almost as quickly as I arrived.” She was about to say something, and he stopped her by continuing. “He loved when I finally moved back in for good, and he’d love more than anything to have us there with him, including our child—especially our child. You know, just as I do, that he’s gonna love our kid more than us.”

“That’s so true,” she giggled.

He smiled, “Yeah, it is.” Hope felt like a ball in the middle of his chest. “So, uh, does this change your maybe?”

“Tío!” Olivia shouted as she came running into the room, and he sat up in his seat.

“¿Sí, tesorito (Yes, little treasure)?”

She rounded the couch and jumped onto it next to him, sitting on her knees with a big smile, missing some baby teeth. Her brown hair was almost the same color as his, falling in loose curls past her shoulders, her bangs on either side held back by blue flower clips.

“Se me olvidó preguntarte algo (I forgot to ask you something).”

He smiled. “¿Qué querías preguntar (What did you want to ask)?”

“Cuando tú y tu Cielito se casen (When you and your Cielito get married), ¿puedo ser la niña de las flores (can I be the flower girl)?”

It made him pause because it’d be up to his ​​fiancée-to-be how they were going to get married, and he wasn’t sure if they would have a traditional wedding. If they did, pretty much all of the guests would be his friends and family, while she’d have maybe a handful of friends—there wouldn’t be anyone from her family she’d want to invite with how they disliked Javier and thought he wasn’t good enough for her.

He knew Cielito would be okay with his answer before he said it. “Bueno, si tenemos una boda, claro que puedes ser la niña de las flores, y tus hermanos pueden ser los portadores de los anillos (Well, If we have a wedding, of course you can be the flower girl and your brothers can be the ring bearers).”

“Sí (Yes),” the future bride said. “Si tenemos una boda, tú y tus hermanos tienen que estar en ella (If we have a wedding, you and your brothers have to be it).”

“Yes!” the girl shouted, clapping her hands.

Javier leaned forward with a groan to grab his beer and sat back, bringing it to his lips as he took a long pull of the lukewarm drink.

“¿Te vas a casar porque tu novia tiene un bebé en la barriga (Are you getting married because your girlfriend has a baby in her belly)?” Olivia asked.

Beer came spraying out of his mouth as he attempted to cover it with his hand and started coughing.

“Oh, no,” Cielito said, patting him on the back. “I’m gonna go grab some paper towels.” She got up and left, and he saw the liquid from his mouth on the coffee table.

“¿Estás bien (Are you okay)?” the child asked.

He’d stopped coughing, wiping his wet hand on his jeans.

“Sí, estoy bien (Yes, I’m okay),” he answered, looking over at her. “¿Por qué crees que nos vamos a casar porque ella tiene un bebé en la barriga (Why do you think we’re getting married because she has a baby in her belly)...?”

“Oh, tengo un amigo en la escuela y su papá se casó con su niñera porque ella tenía un bebé en su barriga (Oh, I have a friend at school and his dad married his babysitter because she had a baby in her belly).”

Javier’s eyes widened. “Eh, mi Cielito no tiene un bebé en su barriga (Uh, my Cielito doesn’t have a baby in her belly). Nos vamos a casar porque nos amamos como tus padres (We’re getting married because we love each other like your parents).”

At the mention of them, Steve and Connie came into the room with his wif-girlfriend rushing to wipe off the table for the other woman to set down two photo albums, and he’d been given a paper towel to wipe his face with. Nate was in his dad’s arms, and Stevie had walked in by himself, going over to where he’d been playing to pick up a Ninja Turtle action figure.

“We heard Olivia is asking questions,” Steve said, smiling and taking a seat in his recliner with his youngest son. Connie sat down on Olivia’s other side.

The girl turned her attention to her father. “Daddy, they said if they have a wedding, I can be the flower girl, and Stevie and Nate can carry the rings!”

Steve looked at his daughter. “They’re called ring bearers, sweetie.”

She looked confused. “They’d be ring bears?”

The adults all laughed. “No, ring bearers,” he said slower.

“Ring bearers,” she repeated. Her head turned to Javier. “¿Los portadores de los anillos significan (means) ring bearers?”

He smiled, nodding. “Sí, asi es (Yes, that’s right).”

Cielito had gone to throw away the dirty paper towels, including the one he used, and returned a minute later, taking her seat next to him.

“I thought the future Mrs. Javier Peña might like to see some pictures of you through the years,” Connie said. She pointed at the albums. “The top one—” It had a forest green cover. “—has photos from when we lived in Colombia before we adopted Olivia. The majority are Steve and I, but there’s a bunch of Javi, too.”

Cielito leaned forward to look past him at the other woman with a smile. “I’ve seen the pictures you sent to his parents!”

“Oh, yes!” Connie smiled brightly. “I was aware he talked to them weekly, so they knew he was okay, but I wanted them to be able to see it, too.”

“Thank you, Connie,” he whispered, his throat feeling tight at his friend caring about his parents so much.

“You’re welcome, Javi.” She patted his knee. Stevie was trying to climb into her lap, and she helped him up. “I loved talking to them—your mother was wonderful, and I was sad when she passed away.” Sadness laced her tone. “I wished we could’ve gone to the funeral, but we didn’t have documents for Olivia yet to take her out of Colombia. I still talk to your dad every once in a while—not as often now that you’re back in Texas, and he doesn’t need me keeping an eye on you.”

His head snapped toward her. “You talked to my parents? How in all these years didn’t I know you talked to them and still talk to my dad?”

Neither of his parents had ever mentioned being in contact with Connie, aside from his father saying she sent them pictures of Javier while he was in South America.

A sad smile was on her face. “Your mother swore me to keep it a secret.”

“My mom?” he said the words so quietly.

“Yes. Your mother was a very smart woman and used the number you gave her to your office in case of emergencies to get a hold of Steve so she could get our home phone number and call me. She just wanted to make sure you were okay, and I understood where she was coming from as a mother—I didn’t have kids at the time, but even then, I knew if my baby was on another continent, I would’ve done the same thing, and it really was no problem. As I’ve said, I loved talking to your parents.”

His eyes were burning with unshed tears at the lengths his parents went to in order to check up on him. Cielito took the beer from his hand and put it on the table so she could tangle her fingers with his, cuddling into his side, and he was thankful for the comfort.

Javier was a terrible son.

He put his parents through so much over the years, and what for?

What did he accomplish?

Yeah, he helped bring down Pablo Escobar and got the Cali Cartel fuckers, but like some mythical monster, you cut off one head, and two take its place—they took down Escobar and the Medellín cartel, and before they knew it, Cali and others had taken over.

It was a never-ending cycle: wash, rinse, repeat.

He’s known it since he made the decision to resign from the DEA: The War on Drugs would never end. From his current job as a drug enforcement consultant, he knew that sentiment was confirmed with the rise of the Mexican cartels becoming major players.

Wash, rinse, repeat.

And all of this showing him he wasted years of his life fighting an unwinnable fight and causing his parents nothing but pain and misery. He was their only son, su bendición (their blessing), and he’d risked his life so many fucking times for what? It felt like it was all for nothing.

Not when he thought about the precious time he lost with his mother, or his father living in that old house all alone, or how he wasn’t getting to start his family until now and really love his life.

Years wasted.

Shame, regret, and remorse were heavy in his head and heart, and he wished he could apologize to his mother—he needed her forgiveness and his father’s, too.

“I appreciate that, Connie.” Getting the words out around the lump in his throat was hard. “I, um, I’ll be back.”

“Are you okay?” Cielito asked, concern evident on her face when he met her eyes.

“Yeah,” he answered, untangling their hands. “I’m okay.” He attempted a reassuring smile that she didn’t believe one bit. “Look at the pictures, baby, and I’ll be right back.”

Her mouth was turned down in a deep frown. “Okay.”

Without another word, he got up and quickly went through the dining room to the hallway, heading for the guest bedroom.

He didn’t lock the door once he was inside.

He didn’t want to worry Cielito more than she already was.

His cell phone was on top of the dresser, and he picked it up, the numbers glowing green as he pressed the number to speed dial his dad.

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

Click.

The recorded message started playing, hearing his mother’s accented voice say in English, “You have reached the Peña residence—” Tears began falling down his cheeks. “We’re sorry we could not make it to the phone right now. Please leave your name and number, and we will get back to you. Thank you!”

Beep.

Javier cleared his throat, the emotion making his words come out thick, “Hey Pop, it’s me, Javi. You’re probably working—” He checked his watch, seeing it was a little after three in Laredo. “—Yeah, you’re working. Uh, we made it to Miami safe, and everyone loves mi Cielito. We knew they would. Um—” He took a deep breath, pacing slowly back and forth. “—I know I’ve apologized before, but I’m so fucking sorry for being gone for so long and making you and mi mamá worry so much. Connie told me about talking to you guys and I,” his voice cracked on the one syllable. He cleared his throat again. “I feel like shit for what I put you through, and I just hope you and mamá can forgive me for all of the pain I caused. I hate that I wasted so many years away from you both that I can’t get back. I’ll—” More tears were falling down his cheeks. “—never see or talk to my mom again, and I miss her so fucking much. I wish I could tell her I’m so close to starting my family. Cielito just wants to talk to you first about us moving in—”

“Javi?” His dad answered the phone, and Javier stopped moving, standing still. “¿Qué pasa (What’s wrong)?” He sounded concerned. “Acabo de entrar y te escuché hablar de tu mamá (I just came inside and heard you talking about your mom).”

“Hola, Pop (Hi, Pop). Perdóname por molestarte (I’m sorry for bothering you).”

“No me estás molestando, Mijo (You’re not bothering me, Mijo). Dime qué pasa (Tell me what’s wrong).”

Javier inhaled deeply and slowly let it out. “He sido un hijo terrible (I’ve been a terrible son).”

“¿De qué hablas (What are you talking about)? Eres un hijo maravilloso y estoy muy orgulloso de ti (You’re a wonderful son and I’m very proud of you). Tu madre también estaba mui orgullosa de ti (Your mother was very proud of you, too).”

“No, no lo soy (No, I’m not). Te preocupé tanto que tenías a Connie vigilándome (I worried you so much that you had Connie watching me).”

“Ella no te estaba vigilándo (She wasn’t watching you). Ella solo nos ponía al día sobre cómo estabas (She was just updating us on how you were doing).”

“Todavía te preocupé lo suficiente como para que mi mamá le pidiera que hiciera eso (I still worried you enough that my mom asked her to do that).”

His dad huffed out a breath. “Javi, te acuerdas bien como era tu madre (Javi, you remember your mother). Ella era sobreprotectora contigo (She was overprotective of you). Llamaba a Connie de vez en cuando cuando estabas en Miami y me aseguraba de que estabas bien porque ya tenía su número de teléfono (I called Connie from time to time when you were in Miami and made sure you were okay because I already had her phone number). No eres un hijo terrible (You are not a terrible son). Eres trabajador, comprometido, testarudo, pero no terrible (You’re hardworking, committed, stubborn, but not terrible).”

He spoke quietly. “¿Me perdonas por todo (Will you forgive me for everything)?”

His father sighed. “Mijo, no hay nada de que perdonarte, pero si te hace sentir mejor, sí, te perdono, y tu madre te perdona también (Mijo, there is nothing to forgive you for, but if it makes you feel better, yes, I forgive you, and your mother forgives you, too). Ahora, ¿qué decías acerca de comenzar tu familia en el contestador automático (Now, what were you saying about starting your family on the answering machine)?”

The sudden change of topic made Javier chuckle, his free hand wiping at his wet cheeks. “Of course, that caught your attention.”

“Yes, it did.” The smile was clear in his voice. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay first. Am I finally getting my nietos (grandchildren) soon?”

Javier smiled. “I’ll say it was a great idea to bring her here where there are a bunch of kids—she needs reassurance from you that you’re really okay with us moving in while the house is being built and won’t mind a baby. I think the plan is to talk to you in person at my birthday dinner,” he sighed.

“Of course, I won’t mind a baby!” It was obvious he was excited. “Mi primer nieto (My first grandchild)! I’ve already told you I’d love to have you all here! I’ll have your primos (cousins) start helping me clear out the guest room this weekend so I can begin working on the nursery. This is the best news! Are you sure she doesn’t want to talk to me right now?”

He turned to look at the closed door and was tempted to take the phone to her.

“She’s out in the living room with the family looking at pictures of me.” His fingers slid through his hair. “If I can convince her to talk with you over the phone, I’ll give you a call.”

“I’ll stay home from work for the next two days, just in case.”

“You don’t have to do that. We can leave a message, and you can call us back.”

“No, I need to be here to answer the call. It’s important.”

His eyes were watering at his father’s love for them. “Thank you, Pop.”

“No, thank you, Mijo. I can’t wait to have you all here. Go convince her to call me—I’m not getting any younger.”

Javier laughed. “Okay, okay, I’ll do my best.”

“And you better call me when you propose.”

His mouth was turned up in a smile. “You’ll be the first person to know.”

“Good. Javi?”

“Yeah, Pop?”

“I love you, Mijo, and I’m truly proud of the man you are today. I can’t wait to watch you become the incredible husband and father I know you will be.” Javier couldn’t stop the tears, his throat feeling like it was closing up. “Your mamá might be gone, but I know wherever she is, she’s happy her son has found so much love and happiness. It’s all we ever wanted for you. We love you, Javiercito.”

“I love you, too.”

“Now, go work on making me an abuelo and tell mi nuera (daughter-in-law) I love her, too.”

He chuckled. “I’ll tell her. Bye, Pop.”

“Bye, Mijo.”

The call ended, and he put the phone back on the dresser and walked into the en suite to stand at the sink. The skin on his cheeks was glistening in the lights of the bathroom, his eyes red-rimmed, and his nose a little runny.

No matter how many times he apologized to his father for his past sins, it never felt like it was enough—it would never feel like it was enough. He knew his father forgave him long ago, and with how much he’s groveled, he’s become a broken record.

If he really thought about it and looked deep down into why he felt the need to apologize so much, it was because he hadn’t forgiven himself. He wasn’t even sure what it would take to forgive himself. It was obvious his dad was tired of him apologizing and wanted him to focus on his future.

His future.

Cielito was his future.

Their children were his future.

A memory came to him of their second date, hearing the woman he was going to marry clearly in his brain:

“...you feel like you need to atone for everything you’ve done, but you really don’t. You’ve done enough, more than enough. The past hurts, but you can either run from it or learn from it…”

When he first got back from Colombia, he ran; he hid away here in Miami with his friends and their family until he got scared he was going to lose his dad and went home. That was when it hit him: he didn’t want to waste any more time away from his father, and he finally stayed. The most important thing to him now was his family: his dad, Cielito, and their future children; they were what mattered.

One day, he’d forgive himself, and he had a feeling it’d happen when he finally had a parent’s perspective…

Turning on the faucet, he splashed some water on his face, drying it off with a small towel he got from underneath the sink. Any sign he’d been crying had been washed away, and he made his way back to the living room feeling a little lighter and determined to keep his focus on moving forward—engagement, marriage, children.

He found his future wife had moved over on the couch to sit closer to Olivia and Connie with a photo album open on her lap and angled for the other two to see, the older women having a conversation. Stevie stood on the couch next to his mom, pretending his Ninja Turtle action figure was walking on the back of the sofa and on Connie’s head, quietly talking to himself. His little blue eyes landed on Javier, and he smiled.

“Tío’s back!” he shouted.

Javier smiled back. “I am, buddy.”

The women paused, Cielito’s head turning to watch as he walked around the couch to sit beside her.

Immediately, she leaned into him and whispered, “Are you okay?”

He rubbed circles over her spine. “Yeah,” he answered. “Pop says he loves you.”

Realization dawned on her, and he could tell she worked out he’d gotten upset over what Connie had revealed and needed to talk to his father.

She softly smiled. “Hopefully, he knows I love him, too.”

A small smile turned up on his lips. “He knows.”

“Good.”

Her attention went back to Connie. “Sorry,” she said. “So, Texas has a lot of nursing opportunities, and I was over being in a big city—I did my schooling at a university in a somewhat big city, too—I looked into other places around the state hiring and interviewed at a bunch, and out of the offers I got, I liked Laredo the best.”

“I bet the smaller hospital is a breath of fresh air,” Connie replied.

“It is! And working in the ED (Emergency Department) in Dallas was exhilarating until it got exhausting and depressing.”

A solemn look was on the other woman’s face. “I know exactly what you mean. If you think it’s bad here, in Colombia, it’s much worse, and drove me to switch to L & D (Labor and Delivery) when I came back to Miami.”

“I can imagine, based on what I’ve heard. I actually thought about going into L & D, too, but I was offered the PACU position in Laredo.”

“What does PACU mean?” he asked.

Both women looked over at him, saying in unison, “Post Anesthesia Care Unit.”

“Oh, okay…”

“I haven’t understood half the stuff they’ve been talking about,” Steve said. “Connie’s having the time of her life being able to talk shop with someone.”

She looked at her husband. “Let me enjoy this. It’s nice being able to talk to someone outside of work who understands.”

“Hey, I’m happy for you, baby,” Steve replied, holding up a hand in a placating gesture. “Now I know what you feel like listening to Jav and me talking about work.”

“Exactly.” She faced his fianceé-to-be again, smiling. “I love helping bring new little lives into the world and teaching new parents how to care for their babies—most of the time, my job is wonderful. I’m sure Javi hasn’t told you, but remind me to tell you the story about Nate later.”

The tale of how Steve and Connie got Nathaniel wasn’t fucked up like his sister’s; it was just sad.

The youngest Murphy’s birth mother, was a girl not even out of high school, who came to the hospital alone and left alone. She brought no identification with her and refused to give her real name, telling people to call her Sam—the girl had been scared out of her mind, so Connie stayed with her the entire time and discovered she had hidden the pregnancy from her family because if they found out, she would’ve been disowned and thrown out on the street. Sam had begged Connie over and over again for her to find her baby a loving home, that she did love him and wished she could keep him, but they wouldn’t have anywhere to live if she did, and that she wanted him to have a good life.

His mother only held him once, right after she’d given birth, and refused to give him a name.

Connie was the one to take the baby to the nursery to have him measured, weighed and to take his vitals. When she returned, the new mother was gone—she vanished. Security couldn’t find her, and with how quickly she disappeared, Connie suspected a friend or her boyfriend picked her up.

Over the years, Steve and Connie had wanted a third kid, however, they struggled with getting pregnant and had to get help from doctors in order to have Stevie. So, when Connie found herself spending more and more time in the nursery with the tiny, abandoned newborn, she realized he was the third child they’d been hoping for, and her husband was fine with bringing him home—they both agreed on naming him Nathaniel Samuel Murphy.

“I will,” Cielito said.

Out of the three children, Nate was the most easy-going of the bunch. He was content to sit cuddled in his father’s lap, sipping on his sippy cup of water and watching everyone else in the room with his big, dark eyes.

“Mommy?” Stevie was patting his mother’s shoulder as he got her attention.

“Yes, baby?” She looked over at him.

“I want juice.”

“How do we ask for things?”

“Can I have juice, pleeeeassse?” he drew out the last word.

“Okay, let’s go get some juice.”

Nate’s cup left his mouth as he said, “Juice?”

“You want some juice, too, kiddo?” Steve asked him, bending to kiss his hair.

“Juice!” the toddler exclaimed.

His dad chuckled. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Can I have a Capri Sun?” Olivia asked.

“Of course, honey,” Connie answered.

Steve groaned as he got up from the chair with Nathaniel still in his arms. “Murphys report to the kitchen for juice!” he said.

“Yay!” Stevie yelled, getting down from the couch and running out of the room.

“Y’all want anything?” Steve asked Javier and his future wife.

“I’m good,” he responded.

“I’m good, too,” Cielito added.

His friend nodded and followed his wife and daughter to the kitchen.

“Thank god, we’re alone,” Cielito whispered, flipping through the pages, looking for a specific picture. “I need to ask you about something.”

He didn’t even know what pictures were in this album since he’d never seen it before and was curious about what caught her attention.

“What is it?”

She found what she was looking for, moving in her seat to show him a page with a picture of him holding a bulky satellite phone to his ear, his other hand flipping off Steve, who was taking the picture.

He couldn’t even remember when it was taken. The sleeves were rolled up on his maroon button-up shirt to bare his forearms, and he was wearing an army green tac vest over it, the bulge from the tightness of his dark wash jeans showing he was dressing to the left while his aviators were on—he could admit he looked pretty good.

“Do you have one of these at your office?” she asked.

“One of what?”

“The vest thingy.” She pointed at it.

“The tac vest?”

He met her eyes, seeing her smiling. “Yeah. Do you still have one?”

“No.” He shook his head. “I don’t see any action and don’t need one.”

Her shoulders slumped, frowning, and he perked up at the reaction.

“Can you… get one?” She chewed on her bottom lip, and he smirked.

His voice went lower. “You like the vest that much?”

“This whole look.” She circled the photo with her finger. “The clothes, your grumpy face, the vest—it’s awakened something in me, and I need to, um, see it in person for reasons…” Her eyes darted away.

He leaned in closer, gently taking her chin between two fingers to make her look at him as he quietly rasped, “Are the reasons for me to fuck you looking like this?”

“Yes,” she breathed.

“In that case, I’ll borrow one from work and bring it home.” He winked.

“God, I love you.” The album was left in her lap, her upper body twisting in his direction, pressing her fingers into his hair as her lips crashed against his. His arm wrapped around her back, the other hand holding her cheek, kissing her hard.

He was more than happy to wear whatever she wanted—he was always happy to wear what she wanted, and this look wouldn’t be too hard to replicate. His mind was playing out them doing a scene where he stripped her of her clothes and ‘searched’ her, which would end with him bending her over and fucking her…

“Oh, gross!” Olivia shouted.

They separated so quickly you’d think they were burned.

“Gross!” Stevie echoed, not knowing what was going on.

“What were they doing?” their father asked as he walked into the room holding a new beer, Connie behind him with Nate in her arms, the toddler holding a green sippy cup.

The oldest of the children had walked around to sit on the opposite side of the couch to them, drinking from a yellow straw in a silver pouch. Stevie had a red cup that matched his brother’s and came to Javier, who picked him up to sit on his thigh.

The straw left the girl’s mouth, her face contorted in disgust. “They were kissing.”

“That is gross,” Steve said, taking a seat in his recliner, and Connie sitting on the other side of Javier’s soon-to-be-fianceé.

He sighed.

“Oh, stop that, Steve,” his wife scolded.

“Yes, dear,” his friend replied.

Nathaniel wiggled away from his mother to sit in his big sister’s lap, Olivia putting an arm around his middle while her other hand held her juice and it warmed Javier’s heart that they clearly had a bond—it made him happy they all had bonded and loved each other.

Connie’s head turned in the direction of Javier and Cielito. “Do you want to look at the other album since we finished the Colombia one?”

“Sure!” Cielito answered, closing the album in her lap, leaning forward to put it on the coffee table, and grabbing the other.

“You know, Jav,” Steve started, meeting his eyes, a brown beer bottle held in his hand on the recliner’s arm. “I once said you were gonna be a lifer with the DEA, and I’m glad I was wrong.”

He could recall when Steve had said that, and at the time, he agreed, his work was his life, and he didn’t think he could ever leave his job—he never fathomed it. Interestingly, the longer he worked there, the more disillusioned he became until he realized all of it was pointless, and he finally resigned. He just wished he would’ve figured things out earlier.

“I think being domesticated suits you better,” his friend continued. “You sure as heck are happier, and isn’t that all that matters?” He raised his beer before taking a drink.

“Yeah,” Javier said. “This life is definitely better.”

“Most of the pictures in this album are of Olivia because it’s one we have of her and before we had the boys,” Connie told them, bringing his attention to the open photo album on Cielito’s thighs. “But it was during a time when Javi stayed with us for a while, so he’s in there.”

Steve had turned the television onto a cartoon channel with the volume not too loud for the kids while they flipped through pages of pictures of Olivia, who was about five years old in them, and Connie telling them stories behind some of them. Stevie leaned back against his chest, holding his sippy cup to his mouth while watching the TV. The first photo Javier appeared in, they were at the zoo, and it was taken from the side, the grinning little girl on his white, button-up-covered shoulders with him pointing at something, his head turned and tilted up as he talked to her, his eyes shielded behind his sunglasses.

There were more pictures of them at the zoo, some from different beach trips, and a lot at the Murphys' home, Javier smiling and laughing in many of them.

They were looking at one Connie clearly took of him and Steve standing in the ocean up to their stomachs, across from each other, laughing, while Olivia was mid-air between them, having been thrown by one man to the other when Cielito looked at him.

“I’m really mad that your dad doesn’t have any of these and that you made me cry the first time I met him because the only pictures he had of you as an adult were of you miserable in Colombia. Where were these, Javier? All the smiles and laughs!”

He grimaced. “I didn’t know they existed…” That was the truth. Sure, he knew his friends had taken photos, but he always assumed they were of their kids. He didn’t realize they included him in so many.

Her eyes narrowed. “Uh huh, right, then explain this!”

She went back a few pages to a picture she had proclaimed was her favorite a little while ago—he was wearing a light blue button-up and jeans, a bright pink feather boa wrapped around his neck, and silver tiara on his head, looking like a hulking figure sitting on the tiny child-size chair at the tiny child-size table. Olivia was sitting across from him in a pink frilly dress and gold tiara, holding an itty bitty teacup, another three in front of her guests on the table, the other two seats occupied by a teddy bear and a The Little Mermaid Ariel Barbie.

What the woman he was going to marry found hilarious was he was dressed like that with his knees practically against his chest and was trying to look menacing as he glared at the camera with a hand up to hide from the little girl that he was giving the bird to the person taking the picture.

“You obviously knew they were taking this picture of you!” She poked it hard.

“Sure.” He shrugged. “But I figured Steve was just taking it to give me shi-crap later. I seriously didn’t know about the others.”

“Fine.” She looked at the other woman. “I really am going to need a copy of this if it won’t be too much trouble.”

Connie smiled. “I’ve got a duplicate somewhere. I’d just have to look, and I’ll send it your way.”

“You are amazing. Thank you so much! Are there, um, any pictures of Javi with the boys as babies…?”

Javier’s ears perked, his heart speeding up, hoping they did.

“That’s a great idea,” Steve said. “We gotta show her the photos of Javi with Stevie, Con.”

His best friend winked at him, and he decided at that moment he was going to make a run to the liquor store later to buy Steve an expensive bottle of top-shelf whiskey for being his wingman.

Connie frowned, her head turning to her husband. “But I haven’t put them in an album… They’re all loose.”

“That’s fine,” Cielito said a little too quickly, making him grin that she wanted to see him with a baby so badly.

“Yeah, Connie,” Javier added. “We don’t mind.”

“Oh, alright,” she said. “I’ll put these albums away.” She took the one his future wife held and closed it, getting up and grabbing the other on the table. “And I’ll get the other pictures. Be back in a jiffy.” She left the room.

Cielito looked at him, leaning in to whisper in his ear. “Is this a bad idea?”

“For your self-control?” he replied just as quietly, parroting back what she’d said earlier in the day. “Yes. For me getting that thing I want really bad? No. I think it’s a great idea.”

“Of course you do.”

He frowned, something in the back of his mind needing him to ask the next question.

“Am I pushing too much? Do you need more time?”

She pulled back to meet his eyes, her voice quiet enough for only him to hear.

“The first question, no. You’re just excited. The second, yes and no. I’ll talk to you about it later.”

“Okay,” he nodded.

“Oh.” A surprised look came over her face before she was looking to her other side. Javier leaned forward to see what got her attention and found Nate had crawled over and was sitting on his knees with his sippy cup in one hand and the other on her arm, clearly asking to be picked up. “Hi, buddy,” she said, immediately lifting him and getting him situated so he was half cradled in her arm and sitting in her lap, his curious eyes staring up at her face and tiny chubby hand reaching to touch it while he drank from his cup. “Hi, there,” she cooed, gently rubbing the arm he had held up. “I’m your tío’s girlfriend—”

“You’re his tía,” Javier corrected, feeling so soft at watching her interact with the little one he feared he might dissolve into a puddle.

“Sorry, I’m your tía, and you’re a cutie pie.” She softly poked him in the belly.

“Daddy,” Olivia said. “Look, Nate likes tía!” She was pointing at them beside her.

“He sure does, baby girl,” her father replied. “Isn’t that something?”

Stevie wanted to be a part of what was going on and moved to look into Cielito’s arms, letting his cup fall into Javier’s lap. “Nate likes tía!” The three-year-old hugged her arm. “I like tía, too.” Javier sucked in a breath. “She makes yummy cookies.”

“I like you, too, Stevie,” she told him, and Javier ruffled the boy’s dirty blonde hair, making him laugh. “And I, of course, like you, also, Olivia.” She glanced over at the girl. “I’m excited that you’re gonna be a paleontologist one day so you can show me real dinosaur bones.”

“I will!” The girl nodded, grinning.

He loved seeing her holding the toddler and talking to the other children, unable to keep the smile off his face as he watched and imagined what she’d look like with their own baby. Her answer to if she needed more time worried him a little, and he hoped they could talk about it soon so he knew what she meant. He was ready—more than ready, but he didn’t want to rush her if she wasn’t, and they’d figure this all out later.

Looking at pictures of Javi with a baby Stevie was absolutely a bad idea.

And it wasn’t like you hadn’t seen him holding a baby before; he had a lot of cousins, many of whom had children under the age of two, that you’ve seen him interact with, and always caused you to have the same reaction of feeling like your ovaries were going to explode.

But these loose photos were on a different level.

He went through the stack of pictures that had combinations of Stevie with his sister, parents, and Javi, the latter being the ones you were most interested in—seeing Javi feeding the baby in his high chair, your future husband sitting in a rocking chair with Stevie cradled in his arm as he held a bottle, one of him on the couch with the baby in the crook of his arm and Olivia on his other side while he read them a children’s book, a photo of Javi passed out on the sofa with a protective hand on Stevie asleep on top of him, a candid shot of the man you were going to marry playing peek-a-boo with the baby, and the one that made your breath catch in your throat was Javi standing with Stevie strapped to his chest as he carried Olivia in his arm like it was no big deal.

There were others, and along with the pictures you saw earlier in the album, each and every one was like a glimpse into your future, showing you the type of doting, loving father he was going to be. What had heat crawling up your neck and heart racing was if this was what he was like with kids he considered his niece and nephew, then most likely he’d be like that but times a thousand with his own children.

He was going to be such a good dad.

Why had he ever thought he didn’t deserve to be one? Or that he’d be a bad father?

The thought that your future kids would be so loved made your eyes burn. They were going to have two parents who loved them all so much, and there wouldn’t be any favorites.

Seeing all of these photos and watching Javi interact with the Murphy kids—Stevie was sitting with him and pointing at the pictures, excitedly saying who was in them while the man you loved softly encouraged him and told him what a good job he was doing—had that ancient, primal part of your brain acting up again, this time screaming in the back of your mind that you’ve found the perfect mate to father your children, and it wasn’t wrong; it was exciting and really revving your engines.

There was just one teeny, tiny problem.

Obviously, Javi was jonesing to get going on the babymaking and had even gone so far as to figure out a place to live while your house was being built. You’d think with that problem solved and the assurance you’d be married before a baby was born, you’d be ready to go for it. Well, as much as you wanted a child, you were a little scared about the prospect of being pregnant and pushing a tiny human out of your vagina. You were a nurse, you knew the odds were in your favor that you’d be okay, but you were a nurse, and you also knew the things that could go wrong—Javier’s difficult birth that almost took his mother, coming to mind.

When it was something that was going to happen in the near future, everything was fine, and you were excited about starting your family; however, now that it was on your doorstep with your boyfriend banging on the door, you were kind of freaking out. You should’ve talked to Javi about this earlier when you were having your doubts and needed his reassurance, but at that point, you didn’t know his dad had already given the okay for you guys to move in.

The current climate in your head was that you loved the idea of having a baby with Javi and finally making him a father; looking at all of the pictures and watching him with the children was really doing it for you, and you couldn’t wait to be alone together later that night. The reality of actually going through with it and getting pregnant, carrying a child, and giving birth made you feel uneasy.

It was very confusing to want something yet be scared of it at the same time.

Javi stuffed the photos back into the big envelope the drug store put them in after they developed the film, setting it on the coffee table when he was done.

“Thank you for letting us look at all those pictures,” you said to Connie beside you with a smile. “It was nice seeing Javi so happy with the kids.”

Nate held your thumb in his little hand while his attention was on the television where cartoons played. Stevie was talking to Javi about something you weren’t paying attention to.

“You’re welcome.” She patted your knee. “When we still lived in Colombia, I swear the only time I ever saw Javi smile was when he held Olivia or played with her. He’d buy her toys, and when he’d come over for dinner, he’d take her for a bit to give me a breather. I’m not saying he was as playful and happy as he is now, but there was a difference between the Javi we knew and the Javi Olivia knew, which is still kinda true today.”

“Yeah, he’s sweeter with the kids.”

“And you.”

“And me,” you giggled.

“Just so you know,” Steve started. “Our kids could use some cousins—especially some bilingual ones. We want the boys to be fluent in Spanish like their sister, and it’d be nice for them to have more people to talk to.”

“Because you didn’t bother learning Spanish while living in a Spanish-speaking country for how many years?” Javi asked.

“Hey! I speak enough of it to get by.”

Javi leaned forward to look at the other end of the couch. “Olivia, ¿qué tan malo es tu papá para hablar español (How bad is your dad at speaking Spanish)?”

She grinned. “Él es muy malo (He’s very bad). Él apesta (He stinks).” She plugged her nose with her fingers.

“Hey!” Steve exclaimed again. “You guys know it’s against the rules to talk shit about me in Spanish.”

“Daddy said a bad word!” Stevie gasped. “That’s a bad word.”

The blonde man’s eyes widened. “Oh, sorry, kiddo. Daddy didn’t mean to say that.”

“It’s a dollar in the swear jar, Dad,” Olivia said.

The swear jar was a big pickle jar they repurposed that sat on top of their fridge and was filled halfway with a mix of green bills and loose change.

“I’ll put it in there when I get up,” he sighed.

“You lost a dollar, and you don’t even know what we said,” Javi said, looking a little too delighted.

Steve was frowning, his eyes narrowed. “I know malo means bad, and the two of you were making fun of my Spanish.”

“¿Él realmente sabe o lo está adivinando (Does he really know that, or is he guessing)?” you asked the other two Spanish speakers.

“Él probablemente podría entender algo de lo que dijimos, pero creo que en la mayor parte, está adivinando (He could probably understand some of what we said, but I think for the most part, he’s guessing),” Javi answered.

“Solo entiende el español muy básico (He only understands very basic Spanish),” Olivia said. “Es muy gracioso (It’s really funny). Tío y yo podemos hablar de cualquier cosa y papá y mamá no entienden lo que estamos diciendo (Uncle and I can talk about anything and dad and mom don’t understand what we’re saying).”

“Oh god, Connie,” Steve said. “Now there’s three of them talking about us while we’re right here.”

“From what I’ve gathered, it’s just about how we don’t understand much, and I don’t think anything bad…” Connie replied.

“You’re right, Connie,” you told her. Looking between Javi and Olivia, you asked, “A ustedes dos les encanta hacer esto para volverlos locos, ¿no (You two love doing this to drive them crazy, don’t you)?”

“Sí (Yes),” they answered in unison with big smiles.

It was adorable.

“Y su papá tuvo tiempo más que suficiente para aprender el idioma, así que es su culpa que aún no lo entiende (And her dad had more than enough time to learn the language, so it’s his fault he still doesn’t understand it). Traté de enseñarle (I tried to teach him),” Javi said.

“Van a odiar cuando sus tres hijos hablen en un idioma que no entienden (They are going to hate when their three children speak in a language they don’t understand),” you replied.

“No puedo esperar (I can’t wait).”

“Estoy emocionado de que mis hermanos aprendan (I’m excited for my brothers to learn),” Olivia said. “Será como si tuviéramos un lenguaje secreto (It will be like we have a secret language).”

You looked at her, switching to English, “That will be really cool. Do you want to learn any other languages?”

“Ummm, I don’t know.” She shrugged.

“And that’s okay.”

Connie looked at the watch on her wrist. “Gosh, I better get started on making dinner.”

“Do you need help?” you asked.

Her eyes met yours. “Oh, no, I couldn’t ask you to help. You’re on vacation and were sweet to make cookies with our kids.”

“I insist,” you said. Turning your head to Javi, you continued, “Hey, babe?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you take Nate? I’m gonna help Connie make dinner.”

“Yeah.” His attention went to the toddler sitting with him. “I gotta move you, bud.” As he said, he moved Stevie to his other knee, then easily took Nate from you, who was so engrossed in the TV that he didn’t make a sound of protest.

For dinner that evening, Connie was making spaghetti. You followed her into the kitchen, making small talk before she showed you what the sides would be. You offered to make the salad, getting set up at the counter with a cutting board, knife, box grater, and all of the veggies—romaine lettuce, tomatoes, cucumber, and a long carrot (no onions because the kids hated them).

There was a lull in your conversation while you diced a tomato, the salad bowl already containing the chopped lettuce, and Connie was in the process of browning the the meat for the sauce.

The last thing she said was that she bet Javi would keep the two boys occupied for maybe another ten minutes before they wandered into the kitchen to find her. You thought it was adorable, making you wonder if your future children would love you that much, leading you to think about how ready Javi was to start a family and your slight hang-up.

“Hey, Connie?” You kept cutting the tomato.

“Yes?”

“Can I ask you a kinda personal question? I, um, don’t have many friends who’ve given birth, and my relationship with my mother is a joke, so I’m hoping you could give me some insight…”

The meat had finished cooking, and she added canned tomato sauce, tomato paste, and seasonings with a bit of water.

She put a lid over the pan as it simmered and turned to face you. “Ask me anything, honey.”

You smiled, beginning to dice the next tomato. “Okay, were you scared at all about any aspect of pregnancy or childbirth?”

“Oh, yeah. It’s pretty common. I see it all the time in L & D. With mine, I had a lot of fear while I was pregnant because I was so worried something was gonna happen to the baby—we had trouble conceiving. Are you scared?”

“Yes,” you sighed.

“About which part?”

“All of it…”

“Well, here’s what I’m gonna tell you: it’s weird as hell to have a human growing inside of you, but the moment you register it’s your baby—your child, everything kinda changes, and you fall in love with this tiny person. You’ll worry about their health, you’re probably gonna feel like shit, and childbirth is scary, but I’m telling you, when you get to the point you’re ready to pop, you’re gonna want them to get that baby out of you as quickly as possible. And all of it is worth it when you finally get to hold that little human you shared your body with for nine months. Except, it’s really freaking annoying when you do 99.9% of the work, and the baby comes out looking exactly like their father. What’s up with that?”

She sounded so annoyed, and it made you laugh.

“I would actually love it if our kid was a little Javi clone,” you said, glancing over at her. “I’ve seen pictures of him growing up; he was a cutie.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I think my husband is extremely attractive, and I know I’m lucky, but it feels like a betrayal that I grew this baby from nothing, and he got none of my genes—not even my eyes!” She threw up her arms. “The only baby I will ever have, and he’s mini-Steve, which, just so you know, we picked out his name before he was born.”

“You jinxed yourself,” you giggled. “He took Steven Murphy Jr. literally. Ooh, I wonder if we’re ever having a boy if Javi would agree to name him Javier Jr.”

“Since you’re fine if he comes out as a mini-Javi, you should go for it. How cute would it be if our minis were best friends?”

“God, that would be so cute.”

Just the thought had you feeling soft.

“Still scared, sweetie?” she asked.

You smiled. “I guess no more than I should be and a bit nervous, but you made me feel way better about everything. Thank you, Connie.”

“You’re welcome, and know I’m here if you have any more questions or just need to talk—Javi’s family, and that makes you family, too.”

Looking over at her, emotion was making your throat feel tight. “You don’t know how much I appreciate that.”

All that Connie said really had helped you feel better, knowing it was normal to have some fear, and like she said, in the end, it would all be worth it when you finally got to hold your baby.

As the mother predicted, the two toddlers arrived in the kitchen, Stevie’s steps more sure-footed than Nate’s toddling, the youngest going straight to grabbing Connie’s leg.

Javi followed them in, and you weren’t sure if he was just ensuring they’d gone to find their mom or if he wanted to see you, but with how his arms wrapped around your middle from behind, and he kissed just below your ear, you thought it was probably both.

Nathaniel was on Connie’s hip as she cooked, the woman not hindered by holding a child.

“What are you doing?” Stevie asked as he stood beside you, looking up.

“I’m making a salad,” you answered.

“Can I see, pleeeasssee?”

“Uh.” There was no way you could use a knife or the grater while holding a wiggly kid, and it seemed a bit dangerous, but he was staring up at you with those big round blue eyes, and you didn’t want to tell him no.

“I’ll show you, buddy,” Javi said, moving to bend over with a wheeze to pick up the toddler and straighten. He stepped away from where you were working so the child couldn’t reach but could still see what you were doing. The man pointed at your chopping board. “She’s cutting up a tomato.”

At him saying that you went back to finishing dicing the second tomato, quickly working the knife in practiced motions.

“What color is the tomato?” he asked Stevie in a gentle tone.

“Red!” the little one answered.

“Good job. Red is my favorite color. What’s your favorite color?”

“Blue! My blankie’s blue.”

“It is.”

“You like red.”

“I do.”

You finished the tomato and grabbed the cucumber.

“What’s that?” Stevie asked, pointing at it.

“A cucumber,” Javi answered.

“What’s that?” he asked again, looking at the man holding him this time.

“A vegetable. They’re yummy. Do you want to try it?”

It was killing you how cute their conversation was.

“Yes.”

“May I please have a slice, mi amor (my love)?” Javi asked you.

You stopped cutting, picking up a thin slice between two fingers you held up to him. “Here you go.”

“What do we say?” Javi asked the child as he carefully took it from you.

“I love youuu,” Stevie replied.

You giggled, Javi chuckling. “We do love her,” Javi said. “But since she’s nice and gave us something, we thank her. Do you wanna tell her thank you?”

“Thank youuu, tía. I love youuu.”

A smile was on your face. “You’re welcome, Stevie—I love you, too.”

“Here you go, bud,” Javi said, holding the piece of cucumber up to the toddler’s mouth. “It’s yummy.”

The child chomped down on it, humming happily as he chewed.

“Is it yummy?” you asked.

He nodded, taking what was left of the slice from Javi in his little hand and munching on it until he’d eaten the whole thing.

In less than half an hour, dinner was ready, their six-seat dining room table big enough for everyone to have a seat—Nate in a high chair next to Steve sitting at one end of the table, Olivia at the other, Stevie in a booster seat beside Connie, and Javi and you on taking up the two seats opposite them.

When your boyfriend was planning the trip, he made sure you both were on the same page about the limited time you’d be visiting and asked if on the first or second night, you wanted him to take you out to dinner or dancing since it was Miami, after all. Your answer was you were there to visit his best friends and their family, so you wanted to spend as much time as possible getting to know them—going out on the town wasn’t important for this trip, and you only hoped there’d be a chance to go to the beach.

You didn’t need him to wine and dine you—you were more than happy eating a homemade meal with the Murphys, laughing and chatting between bites.

Javi and you cleaned the kitchen without being asked after dinner, everyone having milk and cookies before it was time for the kids to go to bed.

Their bedtime was at eight o’clock, and Connie and Steve were double-teaming the boys’ bathtime. Olivia was old enough to care for herself, even though she tried her best to get her parents to let her stay up later. She did ask for Javi to tell her a story before bed, which he agreed to, leaving you alone in their family room watching a rerun of The Brady Bunch.

It gave you time to think, sitting there on the couch, chewing on your thumb.

Even with your fears, the baby fever was strong; all day, as you watched Javi with the kids and looked at pictures, you kept having thoughts about what he’d be like with your own children and feeling this overwhelming need to have a baby with him. There was something really hot about a man who was good with kids, and add in the knowledge you knew for a fact he would be a great parent and partner, had you feeling some type of way...

It was horny; you were so insanely horny over imagining him as the father of your kids.

It didn’t help that he kept giving you material for your imagination to run wild, like him playing with the children and the scenes in the pictures, or when he held Stevie in the kitchen while you were helping make dinner—his free hand had been on your back and he’d pause his conversation with the three-year-old for a second to kiss your hair a few times, easily envisioning him in the same situations with your own kids. Or during dinner with everyone sitting down to eat, and without them knowing, his hand going under the table to ghost his fingers along your jean short-covered thigh until it found its home on your inner thigh, wedged a little in the crease where your leg met your hip, Javi talking to everyone like he couldn’t feel the warmth at your center and thinking he’d absolutely do that at dinner with your own little family. Or there was how he gave you a hug and kiss before he went to tell Olivia a bedtime story, knowing that would be a daily occurrence when you had kids.

God, you wanted him so bad, having to rub your thighs together to ease the ache between them.

From the looks he’d been giving you throughout the day, you were pretty sure he wanted you just as much.

Could he really get you pregnant in a month?

Were you ready to go for it?

It felt like butterflies were fluttering around in your tummy at the thought.

There wasn’t any doubt for you about Javi saying his dad wanted you to live with him, but it felt kind of rude not talking to Chucho yourself before making this huge, life-altering decision that would affect him. You checked your watch, seeing it was almost eight in Laredo. He’d still be up. You could call him and talk it out.

“Hey,” Javi’s voice made you jump in your seat, your heart thudding rapidly. “Sorry.” He came around the couch, standing before you, your head tilting up to look at him.

“It’s okay,” you said.

He had a hand on a hip, smiling down at you with his eyes crinkled in happiness. “You ready for bed? We’re getting up early.”

You started moving to get up, and he put out a palm you took and helped pull you up while you said, “Um, yes. I am very ready for bed. Steve and Connie aren’t gonna miss us?” You were toe to toe with him when you stood.

“No.” He shook his head. “They know we’re getting up early and are exhausted from our long day.”

“Yes, we’re very exhausted from the long day,” you said in a monotone.

His tongue peeked out to swipe over his bottom lip. “Let’s go.”

He turned to grab the TV remote on the coffee table and clicked off the television before it was set down again, and he took your hand, leading you out of the room and toward the guest room, running into Steve and Connie in the hallway who whispered ‘Good night.’

In the bedroom, Javi locked the door, and with all the pent-up tension inside of you, it was surprising he didn’t kiss you immediately; instead, he started working open the buttons on his shirt as he walked over to his duffle bag, shrugging it off when he got to it, and getting out his toiletries bag that he took with him into the bathroom.

To be honest, you stood by the door completely confused while you watched him do all of this and only snapped out of it when the bathroom door closed halfway behind him.

From the sounds of the toilet flushing, then the sink continuously running, he was really going through his bedtime routine, probably washing his face at this moment after he cleaned his hands, and it annoyed you he was doing that instead of fucking you right this second. Your socked feet didn’t make any noise on the hard stone tile as you stomped angrily to your suitcase and got into it, quickly stripping out of your outfit and keeping your underwear on out of spite, covering them with sleep shorts and putting on an oversized t-shirt, you knew he’d hate since he didn’t like you sleeping in clothes.

You softly knocked on the bathroom door as you asked, “Can I wash my face and brush my teeth?” Your stuff was already in there for that.

The door was pulled open as you spoke, Javi standing there in just his unbuttoned jeans, it taking everything in you not to glance down at the trail of hair below his belly button. His face was freshly washed, and a red toothbrush was in his mouth, saying around it, “Yeah.”

He finished brushing his teeth as you walked in, wiping his mouth with a towel and giving you a kiss on the forehead before he went out to the bedroom.

You went through your own routine, the bed squeaking loudly, telling you he had gotten into it.

When you came out, only his bedside lamp was on, and he’d taken the side furthest from where you were standing, lying under the covers with his head propped up on his arm, where he could see you enter the room.

He was smiling up until you pulled back the blankets on your side.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Getting into bed.”

“Yeah, but what are you wearing?”

The sounds the bed made as you crawled in made your jaw clench, all high-pitched and awful.

“Clothes.”

“Why are you wearing them?”

You both usually slept naked.

You turned your back to him, the bedframe squealing softly as you got comfortable.

“‘Cause I feel like it.”

He sighed, metal screeching with every move he made to end up with his naked body flush behind yours, his arm going over your middle, his mouth at your ear as he spoke softly, “Are you mad at me?”

“I’m annoyed with you.”

“What did I do?”

“It’s what you didn’t do.”

He sighed again. “What didn’t I do?”

“Oh, I don’t know, it’s not like you’ve been driving me crazy all fucking day with your sexy DILF energy, and I couldn’t wait to be alone with you so you could give me some good dick or anything.”

He snorted, and it made you grind your teeth.

“I’m sorry I upset you with the lack of good dick and for driving you crazy all day.”

“Apology accepted.”

“But you said earlier you’d talk to me later about how you needed more time, and I thought that discussion was more important than sex and what we were going to discuss when we got back to the room tonight...”

Your stomach dropped, eyes widening.

“Oh. Oh god.” You didn’t even care about the horrendous noises as you flipped over to face him, your hand going to his cheek. “I’m a horny asshole.”

He was frowning. “You forgot.”

“Actually, it wasn’t that I forgot; it was that between then and now, Connie was a gem and gave me some insight to help me work through my shit. Also, she is really mad about Stevie being a carbon copy of Steve.”

“I know—what shit did you need to work through?”

“It’s so dumb, but when you told me you actually talked to your dad about us moving in, it made things real, and I started panicking about the reality of pregnancy and childbirth—which I know most likely everything will be fine, but I was freaking out. Connie talked me through it, though, and let me know it’s pretty common to have some fear, and now I think I’m okay; nervous and a little scared, but okay.”

His fingers ghosted along the skin of your cheek to cup your face, speaking so quietly, “I don’t want you to be scared.”

“I mean, wouldn’t you be a little scared about growing a tiny human inside of you and then pushing them out of your vagina? And don’t say you don’t know because you don’t have a vagina” You poked him in his bare chest. “You practically live in my pussy—imagine a baby coming out of it.”

“...Okay, yeah, I can see how that would be scary. Jesus, I can barely get my dick inside it…”

“Yes, Javier, you have a big dick.” You rolled your eyes. “Is your ego stroked enough?”

He pinched your hip, and you giggled. “I just mean my dick barely fits inside your pussy. How the fuck is a whole baby gonna come out of it?”

Your eyebrow lifted. “Are you being serious? Do you need me to explain the magic of childbirth?”

“No. It was a rhetorical question.”

“Thank god.”

The look on his face changed, seeing the hope glimmering in his chocolate-colored eyes, his hand rubbing your side over your shirt.

“Is this a yes to a baby?” he asked.

“Before I answer.” You pressed your finger to his lips. “I need to talk to your dad just to make sure we’re all on the same page.” He nodded his head. “But, once I talk to him and everything’s peachy keen, it’s a yes.”

A surprised gasp left you when you suddenly found yourself on your back with a very happy man on top of you, slotting his naked hips between your thighs and pressing his lips to yours in a searing kiss. Your arms wrapped around his neck, moaning when his tongue licked into your mouth to tangle with your own, feeling his cock beginning to harden.

There was a throbbing ache in your core, wanting, no, needing, him to fill it in the only way he could, stuffing you full with his dick, then his come. Your fingers slid into his hair, nails lightly scraping against his scalp, the bed complaining with every minuscule movement you made.

SCREECH-Screech-screech. Javi sat up on his knees, the blankets falling down behind him. His eyebrows were pulled together, and his mouth was turned down in a frown as he grabbed the hem of your t-shirt. “If you were naked—” The bed squeaked as your upper body rose for him to tug your shirt off, it getting tossed to the floor. You laid back down, the frame screeching loudly again. “—you’d already be coming on my fingers.” Your cunt clenched hard around nothing at his words.

“I’m sorry!” you harshly whispered. “I was mad.”

He moved back on his knees, causing more ear-splitting noises, his fingers dipping into the waistband of your shorts and underwear. “Yeah, you kept your fucking panties on.” His face scrunched in confusion. “Why would you make it harder for me to fuck you?”

“Because: how annoyed are you right now?”

Squeak. His jaw ticked, and you knew he was irritated. “Between this fucking bed and having to waste time I could be fucking you, undressing you? I’m pretty fucking annoyed.” He pulled off your remaining clothes in one go, your ass rising, then falling back onto the bed and bouncing twice to the tune of the worst high-pitched sounds that could rival nails on a chalkboard. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he seethed.

You grimaced. “I am so sorry, babe. Can I make it up to you? A sloppy blowjob? I can sit on your face? You can play with my ass?” He always loved that.

He moved to lay on his side beside you, the journey plagued by ungodly noise, looking at you with a grumpy expression—someone pounded on the wall connecting your room to Steve and Connie’s master bathroom, Javi’s face turning red and eyes flashing with anger.

“Fuck this,” he growled.

He tossed his pillow and yours to the floor next to you and crawled over you to get off the mattress, the bedframe singing the godawful song of its people as he went, Javi pulling the comforter off the bed to fall on the floor. He groaned as he bent down to situate everything, ending up on his knees atop the spread-out blanket when he was satisfied. His arm went over your belly, using his strength to get you to the edge of the bed in a chorus of squeaks and grunts, and let you get on your feet on the ground before he dragged you down to lay on the comforter with your head cushioned on a pillow.

Javi was back to lying on his side beside you, holding his head up on his arm to look at you with irritation written on his features, his other hand smoothing down your belly to the apex of your thighs, the slide of two thick fingers through your slit making your breath catch in your throat.

“You wore clothes to annoy me.” He pouted.

He gathered some of the wetness pooling at your opening and used it to easily swirl his digits over your sensitive clit, sparking pleasure in your belly.

“Yes,” you gasped.

“You know all the little shit that annoys the fuck out of me—like the fucking underwear and shorts.”

He was fine if you wore underwear to bed, but underwear and sleep shorts? That was too many layers for him and, frankly, you, too. His preference was for you to be naked—he loved skin-to-skin contact and having easy access when you wanted him or when he wanted you.

“I’m sorry.” You loudly gulped, the beginning of your orgasm starting to make itself known. “Please let me come.” He seemed annoyed enough. You could imagine he’d draw things out and make you beg.

His expression changed to confusion. “I’m gonna let you come, baby.” He removed his hand, a pitiful sound leaving you as you watched him suck his fingers into his mouth, hearing the swish of saliva—they came out from between his plush lips, glistening in the low light of the room, and you moaned when without any preamble he pressed those two digits into your wet entrance.

He quietly shushed you. “Gotta be quiet, Cielito,” he said. You bit your bottom lip, reveling in the slight stretch of his fingers as he pumped them slowly in and out, your eyelids fluttering shut. “You also know all the little things that make me happy—like how I prefer Mexican Coca-cola, and you do shit like make me stop at that corner store on our way to Pop’s every week to pick up three bottles.” He started moving faster, and it made you whine at how good it felt. “You love me, you care about me, and make me so fucking happy—I was really fucking happy about your yes.” He crooked his digits, sliding the pads of his fingertips along your upper wall until he hit something divine that made you gasp. “There it is.” His focus went to that spot, making sure to press against it every time he pushed inside, your vision dotting with stars at the intense pleasure. “I was really fucking happy about your yes,” he said again, the added friction of his thumb rubbing your clit, rocketing you to your end, the knot in your belly winding up so tight it was close to snapping. “Then the clothes and the fucking bed—”

“Threw off your groove,” you panted, grabbing at the blanket for something to hold onto.

“Threw off my fucking groove and pissed me off.”

“I’m sorry.” You felt so bad but were also so close to coming.

His head came forward to kiss you tenderly. “Quería hacerte el amor (I wanted to make love to you),” he murmured into your lips, and you clenched around his fingers. “Quería hacerlo bien suave, dártelo despacito (I wanted to do it softly, give it to you slowly).” His hand sped up, hearing the wet slide of his digits fucking into you, the pleasure making the muscles in your stomach tighten and tighten. He nipped at your lip. “But I’m too worked up,” he rasped. “So, now, after you’re my good girl and you come on my fingers, you’re getting put face down, ass up, and I’m gonna give you that good dick you’re entitled to as my future wife and mother of my children—and next time you’re gonna ask for it instead of pulling the passive aggressive bullshit you did tonight; I love you more than anything, but I can’t read your mind.”

“Oh, god,” you moaned, wound up so tight you were dangling on the edge.

He kissed your cheek, trailing his lips down to your ear, his words coming out deep and husky with a slight edge that brooked no room for argument, “Javi,” he corrected, “the man you’re gonna marry, who's gonna make you a mother, and right now, come.”

The tension inside you snapped, the order doing you in as you came with a loud moan Javi smothered with his mouth pressing to yours. Euphoria pulsed out from your center while your pussy squeezed his fingers hard enough that they stopped moving, his thumb gently stroking over your sensitive bundle of nerves to help you ride out your high.

He was languidly kissing you, your body pleasantly relaxed and feeling amazing.

It was wetter between your legs, your slick drenching his fingers. You slid your hands into soft strands of his hair, kissing him harder, and he groaned, grinding his hard cock into your hip for some friction, his precum streaking on your skin.

Javi pulled back, and you chased his lips. “You good?” he asked.

Your eyes opened, seeing his plush lips were red and shiny from spit. “Yeah.”

His head nodded, his loving gaze admiring every inch of your face. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” You smirked. “...and I love that I’m entitled to your good dick.”

His mouth curved in a crooked smile, removing his hand from between your legs to grab your smaller one and press it to his hot, throbbing length. “It’s yours,” he said, “and only yours, so yeah, you’re entitled to it, mi amor (my love).”

You took the girth of him in hand, and his mouth fell open as you stroked the velvety soft skin. “God, you’re so fucking hot, and you were exceptionally hot today. Like, thank you for making me come on your fingers, but I’m afraid I am going to die if you don’t put this thing inside me where it belongs.”

His dark eyes got darker. “Flip over,” he ordered.

“Don’t have to ask me twice,” you said, immediately turning over onto your stomach and getting on your knees. You leaned forward to rest your arms and head on the pillow, keeping your ass up in the air.

Pained groans sounded from Javi as he moved, knowing being on the stone-tiled floor was probably fucking up his knees and back. You grabbed the extra pillow beside the one you were on and held it back behind you. “Use this as a knee pad.”

You didn’t have to look at him to know he was frowning. “What about your knees?”

“You’re a sweetheart for worrying about my knees, but they’re fine. I want you comfy while you fuck my brains out.”

A loud sigh left him. “I should be fucking you in a bed—” There was anger in his tone, snatching the pillow from you. “—not the fucking floor.” You could feel the air moving behind you as he situated himself on the pillow. “You deserve better than the fucking floor.”

You frowned. “If you’re this mad about it, we can fuck on the chair again? Or you can bend me over the bathroom counter?”

“No.” He had shuffled close enough that his body heat was radiating against your skin, hearing him spit on his fingers, followed by wet strokes as he slicked up his cock. “This is how I want you.”

Your head was resting on your crossed arms, and you wiggled your backside. “You did say you were gonna give me that good dick while I was face down, ass up.”

His big hands grabbed your asscheeks and spread them. “Yeah, I fucking am.” A soft moan fell from your lips when you felt warm saliva land on the skin between your asshole and pussy, one of his hands sliding the tip of his cock through the spit to notch at your entrance. “I need you to be quiet.”

“I can be—” The sentence ended with you shoving your face into the pillow to muffle your moan as the tight walls of your cunt were stretched and filled with his hard, thick cock, pushing in so deep he kissed your womb.

He bottomed out, his hips connecting with the plump flesh of your ass, and it stole your breath, your head going dizzy with pleasure.

“Fuck,” he whispered, digging his fingers into your hips. “Fucking perfect.” He pulled out halfway and pushed back in. “The perfect pussy.” Now, he was rocking into you, keeping as much of himself inside you as possible while still getting some friction. “God, I love you.”

Your head turned to speak quietly, “Are you already pussy drunk?”

He swatted your asscheek. “Don’t give me shit,” he grumped. “You weren’t the only one driven crazy all fucking day.”

“I’m not giving you shit—it’s making me feel really good about myself.”

“Yeah?” His hands were gripping the globes of your ass. “You love knowing what you do to me?” he asked, sliding his dick out until just the tip was inside. He thrusted forward hard, your eyes rolling back in your head and a gasp leaving your lips. “You love the power you have over me?” he questioned, pulling out to the same point. Thrust. “That not even a second inside you, and I never wanna fucking leave.” He kept that slow, hard pace as he spoke, moving in and out. You reached one of your hands between your legs, spreading two digits around where he was spearing into you to feel how he was stretching you open. “My favorite place to put my dick.”

It was taking everything in you to hold back your moans, whimpers slipping from your throat instead from how fucking good it felt. With the way you were positioned, his cock was sliding against those spots that made your toes curl and your vision blur, having a hard time thinking, let alone speaking—his last comment somehow caused you to blurt out, “Liar.”

He was softly grunting behind you, his fingers tightening on your ass.

His pace didn’t waver. “What am I lying about?”

He really wanted an answer? It took a lot of effort for you to reply, a thin layer of sweat forming on your skin, swallowing hard before you spoke. “Your favorite—” He pushed into you, and it hit so good you moaned. “—fuck,” you tried again. “Your favorite place is my ass.” His rhythm stuttered, and he kept his groan low.

His voice was rough, “No, it’s not. That’s my second favorite—fuck, you feel so good—so fucking wet. This pussy is my favorite.” You could tell he was exciting himself. “Fucking love it—can never get enough of it.”

The swing of his hips sped up, fucking into you faster, your ass jiggling as his body collided with yours. This new tempo had you putting your face back into the cushiony pillow to dampen your moans, your fingers moving to rub at your clit, causing fire to ignite in your belly; soft grunts coming from behind you, hearing the slap of skin on skin, and the sounds wet where he was working himself into your cunt, a steady stream of your arousal dripping down his shaft to his balls slapping against your digits.

The heat at the base of your spine was growing, his dick pounding into you at a punishing pace, mewling incessantly from the onslaught. Each thrust had you seeing stars, the pleasure building you higher and higher, your belly clenching in anticipation for your impending orgasm.

It didn’t even surprise you how quickly he was working you up with the way you were pent up from watching him all day—how tempting it’d been to haul him away and fuck him, and he wasn’t disappointing you now, truly giving you the good dick you’d wanted.

The muscles in your stomach were beginning to tighten, so fucking lost in what he was doing to you and your fingers, you’d forgotten to control your volume, a big hand squeezing its way between your face and the pillow to cover your mouth.

Javi came down over your back, holding himself up on an arm while he kept fucking into you, dipping his upper body low enough his lips grazed the shell of your ear, feeling his hot, panting breaths.

“Such a good fucking girl taking it,” he breathily rasped into your ear. “Am I fucking you good? Is this the good dick you wanted?” You moaned into his palm. “Your needy little pussy just needed my cock?” He was pounding into you hard enough to make your thighs jiggle and ass shake like jello. “Turned you on watching me today? You love knowing that I’ll be a good father? That I’ll actually give a shit? That you just, fuck,” he groaned. “That you just have to say the word, and I’ll fuck a baby into you?” He was moving faster. “I’ll give you a baby—I’ll keep your perfect little pussy stuffed with my come to make sure it takes.” The sentence made you clench around him, so close to your climax you could taste it. “Is that what you want?”

You couldn’t speak, not with the way he was fucking you, unable to articulate words as he impaled you on his dick.

“Are you cock dumb, Cielito?” he asked through heavy breaths. “Am I fucking you too good? I know you’re close. Give me another, and I’ll fuck you full of me.”

Your body was trembling, right on the cusp of coming.

“Come all over my cock, baby, and I’ll fill you up. Just think, after my birthday, when I fuck my come deep inside you, I could end up knocking you up.”

Finally, you were cresting, your cunt clamping down on him hard enough, he slowed as you came with a whine, and tears leaked from your eyes. Pleasure exploded out from your core, feeling it in your fingers and toes, your mind going pleasantly blank while your chest heaved and your heart raced.

“My good girl.” He sounded pained, rolling his hips to extend your high. “You’re so fucking good to me—I fucking love you.”

He pulled out of you and removed his hand from your mouth, and you hated how empty you felt.

Groaning, he sat up on his knees.

He tapped your hip. “I need you on your back.”

His hands were gentle as he helped you in your fucked out state to get onto your back with him in the space between your spread legs. He ended up over you, with an arm beside your head, the other guiding himself back inside you in one smooth thrust that made you whimper.

Your eyes were closed, but you could feel how he surrounded you—the mass of him on top of you with those broad shoulders you loved so much.

When he started moving, he didn’t go slow, nor was he going the typical speed to chase his own high—it was something in between that had him slickly sliding in and out of your drenched pussy, hearing the wet suck of each stroke.

First, his lips found yours, kissing you while his hands sought out your own, interlacing your fingers together as he held them above your heads. Your bodies were glistening and hair damp with sweat, not caring how the skin that came in contact stuck together.

You were still feeling good from your orgasm and loved how he felt inside you, knowing this was how he originally wanted to fuck you.

“Te amo (I love you),” he said into your lips, sounding wrecked. “Te amo tanto (I love you so much). No puedo esperar a verte usando un anillo (I can’t wait to see you wearing a ring on your finger). No puedo esperar a verte embarazada (I can’t wait to see you pregnant).” His pace was quickening, his words getting breathier. “No puedo esperar a que seas mi esposa (I can’t wait for you to be my wife). No puedo esperar a que seas la madre de mi hijos (I can’t wait for you to be the mother of my children). No puedo esperar a vivir en la casa de tus sueños contigo (I can’t wait to live in the house of your dreams with you). No puedo esperar a pasar el resto de mi vida contigo (I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you). Te amo, mi Cielito, mi amor, mi vida, mi alma, mi todo (I love you, my Cielito, my love, my life, my soul, my everything).”

“God,” you softly moaned. “This is what you meant when you said querías hacerme el amor (you wanted to make love to me).” This was the only way you were okay with the phrase—it sounded very romantic in Spanish. “How do you make me fall more in love with you?” You kissed him. “It’s not fair.” Your words were muffled. “I want to be married to you and have your babies.” Your legs went around his hips, digging your heels into his flexed asscheeks to pull him closer to you each time he pushed in. “Fuck a baby into me, Javi.” He groaned at your words, his hips moving faster, finally working toward his end. “I want one so bad—I’m hoping I can get rid of my birth control tomorrow.” Which was true.

The sound he made, you’d think he’d been wounded, his strokes getting jerky, his face going into your neck as he breathed through his bared teeth until he was pushing in all the way, biting into your shoulder to muffle his ragged moan as he came. You felt as his cock thickened and pulsed, spurting hot come as deep inside you as he could get, your cunt clenching around him.

This was what you had needed all damn day, finally feeling sated at being full of him, all of him—his dick, his come—sighing happily.

He let go of your hands, and you found yourself under the comforting weight of the man you’d one day marry and have children with, sliding your fingers into the soft, thick, sweat-damp strands of his hair, making him hum and nuzzle into your throat as you lightly scratched at his scalp.

Nothing mattered when you were like this; no one else existed. There was only Javi and you, you and Javi. He was what you could feel and what you could smell. When you opened your eyes, he was what you could see; his heavy breaths were what you could hear—he was everything.

He was your everything.

Javier Peña was your today, tomorrow, next week, and next year. He was your present and future, the one you were meant to spend the rest of your days on this planet with and haunt all of eternity in the afterlife with. He was your person, the love of your life, your soulmate, and most of all, your best friend.

You were going to marry and start a family with your best friend, the man who knew you better than anyone else and loved you more, too.

Why were you ever scared about having a child when you knew he’d be by your side every step of the way and take care of you?

Because you’ve never had this kind of support or been loved like this before. You were in new territory and treading carefully, learning as you went—both of you were learning to live this new life together and figuring things out. As Javi said earlier in the day, it wasn’t going to be all sunshine and rainbows. You were going to have your ups and downs, but all that mattered was you stuck together through the good and the bad because you truly loved each other.

Time passed, the minutes going into the double digits before either of you spoke, content in your cocoon.

“Did you mean it?” he said the words into your skin.

“Did I mean what?” It took some head-turning and neck stretching to kiss his forehead.

“You wanna get rid of your birth control tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” Your fingers stroked through his hair. “I was gonna call your dad right before you came and got me for bed, but now it’s too late. I’ll leave a message on his answering machine in the morning since he’ll be working to give us a call on his lunch break so I can talk to him.”

Javi’s head popped up to look you in the eyes with a grin. “He’ll answer the first time you call.”

You frowned. “He’ll already be working by six… He won’t be home.”

He was practically vibrating with excitement. “Trust me, he’ll be home.”

Your eyes narrowed. “What do you know that I don’t know?”

“Nothing that you don’t already know—Pop really wants to be an abuelo (grandpa), and he’s on our ass about grandkids all the fucking time.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t explain him being home tomorrow…”

“Oh, yeah, I talked to him earlier and mentioned you wanted to talk to him before we finally went for it, and he got so excited, he said he’d stay home the next couple of days in case you called.”

That sounded like something Chucho would do if he knew there was a chance it’d speed up him getting his grandkids, and it warmed your heart, making you smile. “He’s the best—I love your dad.”

“He’s your dad, too—he already calls you his nuera (daughter-in-law).”

“Sure, but it feels a little sweet home Alabama saying, ‘I love our dad’ with your dick still inside me.”

A high-pitched sound came from air escaping between his lips, which he was struggling to keep closed, it sputtering into a full-on laugh, his eyes crinkling at the edges in mirth.

“That’s fucked up,” he wheezed.

You were smiling, pushing his bangs away from his face. “It’s the truth. The sentiment is sweet, but the phrasing is a real boner killer.”

“I love you.” He was calming down, adjusting his weight onto one arm in order to cradle your face in his other palm.

“I love you, too.”

The smile on his face was big and bright, a joyful chuckle leaving him as he leaned in to kiss you—something sweet, and tender, feeling his happiness with each press of his plush lips to yours.

“We’re gonna have a baby,” he said between kisses.

“I’m not pregnant yet.”

“You will be soon.” And he said it so matter of factly, with such surety, it had pleasure shivering down your spine, your cunt clenching around his softened cock, making him hiss from the overstimulation.

A shift happened, the kisses turning more fervent before he was pulling out of you and making a journey with his lips down your body, to between your legs, where he worshipped you with his mouth and tongue, your fingers tugging on his hair, biting your lip to keep yourself quiet.

After he pulled another orgasm from you, he finally seemed satisfied, and a quick shower was taken to wash the sex away from your bodies. Javi was so pissed off about the bed he refused to sleep in it how Steve had intended and instead quietly moved the furniture around, pushing an end table and the bedframe closer to the closet to give him enough space to put the mattress on the floor. It was going to be an absolute bitch to get up from in the morning, but your future husband was pleased with himself for getting around his friend trying to cockblock him, and you both were happy you weren’t plagued with any more godawful noise.

This time, you were naked when you crawled into bed with Javi, and he immediately pulled you into his arms, tangling your legs together. Exhaustion caught up to you from the long day, sleep making your eyes heavy, smiling when he kissed your forehead, then your lips, his nose nudging yours as he whispered, “I love you.”

Your thoughts had become slow, so comfortable and warm, feeling so loved and happy, you were drifting off, mumbling as you went, “I love you, too.”

The bright teal walls and floral artwork hanging on them let him know he was standing in the hallway at the back of his father’s house—his mother had chosen each piece, and his dad had hammered each nail they hung from in the spots she’d decided. In all his years in this house, he’d never seen these walls bare and loved even after all this time since his mom had passed away, his father hadn’t changed a single thing she decorated; not in this hallway, not in his parent’s bedroom, the living room, the kitchen, the entryway, the guest room; they all had a touch of her, little traces of her memory with the pictures she chose to display or the knick-knacks she left on shelves or decorations adorning the spaces.

Sounds were coming from the kitchen that told him someone was cooking—a tune he couldn’t quite make out but somehow knew playing on his mother’s favorite Spanish radio station, something frying on the stove, the dings and scrapes of cooking utensils against pots and pans—the familiarity of it making him wonder what his Cielito was making, and feeling like he was floating across the floor with how smoothly he walked toward the noises.

One moment, he was walking, the next, he was in the kitchen beside the table. His vision was soft around the edges and unfocused, but he knew the woman whose back was to him wasn’t Cielito—it was almost like she was a shadow; the shape of an adult human female with no details.

The dark figure’s head turned to look over their shoulder at him, and even without a face, he could tell they were smiling.

“Ah, mi Javiercito, estoy muy feliz de que estés aquí (Ah, my Javier, I’m so happy you’re here)!” His vision focused as she spoke and filled in those details that were missing, his mother appearing before him with her brown hair that matched his beginning to grey and the same lines on her face that were in the photo taken on his parents’ 35th anniversary. “Te he echado de menos, nene (I’ve missed you, baby boy).” She turned to face him, wearing her light pink, rose-printed apron with the ruffle trim and two big, solid dark pink pockets on the front. “Ven a ayudar a tu mamá a abrir este frasco obstinado (Come help your mom open this stubborn jar).” She held it up, and he was so transfixed with her he didn’t care to see what was in it.

“Amá (Mom),” he whispered, trying not to cry. “¿Eres tú, amá (Is that you, mom)?”

“¿Estuviste ausente por tanto tiempo que te olvidaste de tu pobre madre (Were you away for so long that you forgot about your poor mother)? Sí, soy yo (Yes, it’s me). Ahora, ayúdame a abrir este frasco (Now, help me open this jar).” She lifted the glass again. “Tu papá está trabajando y tengo que terminar de hacer la cena (Your dad is working and I need to finish making dinner). Es una gran noche para todos nosotros (It’s a big night for all of us).”

Javier took the jar and easily got the lid off with a pop as he removed it.

His mother was much shorter than him, and she reached up to grab his face, pulling him down to kiss all over his cheeks like he was a child before she held them and looked him in the eyes.

“Gracias, Javiercito (Thank you, Javier),” she said. “Estoy muy orgullosa de ti y del hombre increíble en el que te has convertido (I am so proud of you and the amazing man you have become). No sabes lo feliz que estoy de ver hacia dónde se dirige tu vida (You don’t know how happy I am to see where your life is going). No mereces nada más que felicidad (You deserve nothing but happiness). Hablando de eso, ¿cuándo llegará mi nuera favorita aquí (Speaking of which, when will my favorite daughter-in-law get here)?” She patted his cheeks. “¿Dónde está tu Cielito (Where is your Cielito)? Ella necesita estar aquí para la celebración de que tu padre y yo finalmente vamos a ser abuelos (She needs to be here for the celebration that your dad and I are finally going to be grandparents). Estoy haciendo su receta favorita de mi caja de recetas (I’m making her favorite recipe from my recipe box).”

It was so hard to speak when it felt like there was a lump in his throat.

“¿Por qué estás haciendo su receta favorita (Why are you making her favorite recipe)?” he asked thickly. “Soy tu hijo (I’m your son).”

His mom smiled. “Porque ella es la mujer increíble que hizo sonreír a mi hijo de nuevo, y lo ama tanto, sé que finalmente tendrá la vida feliz que tanto se merece (Because she is the incredible woman who made my son smile again, and loves him so much, I know he’s going to finally have the happy life he deserves).” Her smile turned mischievous. “Además, ella es mi hija favorita que nunca tuve y la madre de mis futuros nietos, así que le haré todo lo que quiera (Also, she is my favorite daughter I never had and the mother of my future grandchildren, so I will make her anything she wants.”

Suddenly, consciousness was crashing into him as he woke up, gasping on a sob, his eyes wet with tears. The room was pitch black when his eyelids lifted, lying face up atop the mattress, Cielito’s back pressed to his side with his arm draped over her bare middle, the ache in his heart making his shoulders shake as he cried away the sadness.

What he’d give for that dream to have been reality.

He couldn’t recall the last time his mother had visited him while he slept. For years after she passed away, the only time she appeared in his dreams was when he relived the last time he saw her alive as she lay on her deathbed. Over and over again, he’d sit on the edge of the hospital bed with her frail hands gripping her rosary between his, begging him to take it for her, and Javier always telling her he would and how much he loved her. Sometimes, he’d say more—he’d beg for her forgiveness for being away for so long, tell her he couldn’t live without her, and plead with her to stay a little longer because he wasn’t ready to let her go.

What he dreamt this evening was different than anything he could remember. It was jarring how real it felt, which made it hurt so much worse. He wondered why his brain chose tonight of all nights to have her visit him and say things he’d needed to hear. Maybe it was all of the big changes taking place in his life—he was moving forward, and it was a reminder she’d always be with him. What he knew for sure was it made him miss her so fucking much and hate that she wouldn’t be with his dad when he and Cielito called him this morning to tell him the news they were engaged and wanted to start their family.

Thinking about his plans for that morning, he moved his arm from over his future wife to wipe away the wetness on his cheeks and carefully sat up so he didn’t wake her, the blankets falling to pool at his waist. He twisted his upper body to look over his shoulder at the glowing red numbers on the alarm clock sitting on the bedside table pressed against the mattress-less bed frame. The alarm he set would be going off in ten minutes, so it looked like he was getting up. He leaned back and stretched his arm to turn off the alarm.

It was a smart move to put the mattress on the floor with how he was able to quietly get out of bed, his knees complaining when he stood up and made his way in the dark to the chair by the bathroom door where he set out his clothes the night before.

He’d get dressed in the bathroom, brush his teeth, do his hair, and shave. Then, he needed to do some other things before it was time to wake up the woman he loved.

His head was running through the list of shit that he had to get done, and something he kept thinking about, and he knew wasn’t rational, was how the dream felt like his mother saying hi and giving him her approval of who he was going to marry from beyond the grave.

As he said, it wasn’t rational, but it made him really fucking happy.

The tickle of his mustache as he kissed along your shoulder had you waking. His warm hand was rubbing along your arm while he whispered into your skin, “Wake up, Cielito. It’s time to get up, mi amor (my love). We gotta get going, baby.”

“Mmm,” you hummed with a smile. He was on top of the blankets behind you. “What time is it?” you murmured.

“Half past five.”

“In Laredo or Miami?”

You could feel him smile. “Miami.”

The answer made you groan. “That’s four-thirty at home—why are we waking up at five-thirty on vacation?”

“If you get up, you’ll find out.”

You were frowning. “Is everyone else getting up, too?”

“No.”

“What, are you making me breakfast before they wake up or something?”

“No.”

“Are we going someplace at the asscrack of dawn?”

He huffed out an amused breath. “Yes.”

That had you wondering where in the world he’d take you so early.

“Will there be food?”

“Yes.”

He probably wanted to take you alone to some local diner he used to go to when he’d visit, so it was best to leave while everyone else was sleeping.

The thought of coffee and breakfast had you saying, “Fine, I’m getting up.”

“Thank you, Cielito.” He placed one last kiss on your shoulder and moved to get up with a groan. You stretched under the warm covers, blinking open your eyes to see the bathroom light was on with the door cracked, and Javi was fully dressed, yawning as you threw back the blankets.

He helped pull you up from the mattress, and as you walked toward the bathroom, you asked, “Will leggings and a t-shirt be okay, or is there a dress code?”

“Whatever you’ll be comfortable in is fine.”

“Mmkay.”

After taking care of your needs in the en suite, it took some minutes to get ready, ending up in some black leggings and an oversized coral-colored t-shirt with minty breath and your hair done.

The two of you were quiet as you made your way out of the house, stopping to put on your shoes and Javi locking the front door with a key on his keyring as you left.

The sky outside was dark, the street lights offering an orangish glow. Javi was wearing a white button-up under his black leather jacket and jeans, and you were still feeling a bit groggy when you got in the SUV, unable to keep from yawning. He laced his fingers with yours on your thigh, and even though there was a center console separating you both, you leaned your head against his arm as you hugged it, street lights and the headlights of morning commuters passing you as you made your way down the roads with the radio softly playing.

Between the signs on the highway and glimpses of the ocean, it wasn’t much of a surprise when Javi pulled over to the side of the road near a beach access point in Miami Beach forty-five minutes later. It still wasn’t clicking what you were doing there so early in the morning, though. A big bank of dirt covered in bushes kept the water out of view, with some palm trees and a street lamp standing high above near the entrance.

“I thought you said there’d be food?” you said, not even attempting to keep the confusion out of your tone.

“Trust me.” He kissed your hair, untangling your hands as he put the vehicle in park and switched it off.

“Okay… I didn’t bring a jacket.”

Javi met your eyes, the overhead lights coming on when he removed the keys. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you, mi amor. Now, come with me, please.” He didn’t even look tired, his gaze bright and hopeful.

“Okay.” You unbuckled your seatbelt, and he smiled, doing the same.

What was a surprise was when you went to see what he was getting out of the trunk, and he pulled out a big bundled-up blanket and full tote bag that clinked as he moved. You closed the back of the SUV without him having to ask.

“Javi?”

He had started walking, and you followed, the air surprisingly warm for how early it was.

“Yes, Cielito?”

“Did you bring me to the beach for a breakfast picnic?”

“Yes.”

You followed him down the path lined with tall grass, bushes, and trees, your feet sinking into the sand as you walked, hearing the waves in the distance—on the beach, you looked around, not seeing any other people, just miles upon miles of sand, and wondered to yourself with how sweet this whole thing was if Javi would let you suck his dick. Thankfully, he didn’t make you walk far, taking you to a circular alcove at the base of the hill where it indented in, the grass and raised land along the sides shielding you from view at those angles.

He set down the bag and spread out the blanket, stepping onto it, and you watched as he lowered himself down to sit on his ass with his legs spread a little out in front of him. He made you giggle when he tugged you by the arm and pulled you down into his lap, ending up across it, his head turning to look at you with a smile, the same expression on your face.

“You stupidly romantic man,” you said, stroking your fingers over his smooth cheek.

“You love that I’m stupidly romantic.” He kissed your palm.

“Yes, I do—like, if you wanted me to, I’d suck your dick right this second. A beach breakfast picnic deserves an out-in-public blow job.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re gonna get us arrested.”

“Hey, I can’t help that it makes me horny when you’re stupidly romantic. My only complaint is how early it is. Aside from that, everything else is lovely.”

His lips dipped into a frown. “I’m, uh, sorry I can’t make the sun rise later…”

Your eyes rounded. “Oh my fucking god,” you breathed. “We’re here to watch the sunrise. I’m so fucking stupid.”

“Why else would I get you up at the asscrack of dawn?”

“Sex,” you answered immediately.

His eyebrow went up. “Did we fuck?”

“No.” You shook your head. Warmth was moving through your veins, feeling the fuzzy happiness. “Because you brought me to the beach for a breakfast picnic and to watch the sunrise!” Moving, you straddled his thighs, taking his face in your hands as you crashed your mouth to his, kissing him like your life depended on it. His arms went around your back to pull you into him, his mouth opening when you eagerly pressed your tongue inside to slide against his, rocking your hips.

The need to breathe became too much, and his lips went to your chin to travel along your jaw in wet streaks.

“I love you so much, Javi,” you panted. “I wish I could do something as special as this for you.”

“You did.” He sucked on your neck, and you moaned.

“I did?”

His head came up to meet your gaze. “Yeah, when you learned how to make mi mamá’s tamales.”

“Oh.”

“You’re stupidly romantic, too.”

It never crossed your mind that making him his mother’s tamale recipe would come across as stupidly romantic—you’d just wanted him to have some comfort on his tough first day at his new job.

“Well, fuck, we’re both a couple of stupidly romantic fools.”

He smiled big as he laughed, giving you a quick kiss.

“Yes, we are. Turn around, baby, and watch the sunrise.” He nodded toward it.

“Bossy.” You gave him a peck on the lips and turned around to sit between his legs, with your back to his front.

A cool gust from the ocean hit you, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin and making you shiver; staring off at the horizon and the dim sky colored in a fiery red where it met the water, lightening to yellow, then a soft blue as it rose.

Javi’s upper body was moving behind you. “Lean forward a little,” he said.

You tilted forward slightly, and he placed his leather jacket on your shoulders, feeling the weight of it and warmth on the inside from his body heat as it covered your arms and back.

Leaning back with your head on his shoulder, you turned to kiss his jaw. “Thank you.”

He hugged around your belly, shoving his face in your neck. “You’re welcome.” His words were muffled.

“What’s in the bag?” you asked.

He squeezed you a little tighter for a second.

“Thermos of coffee, some coffee cups, croissants, donut holes, berries, and cut-up pineapple.”

It was getting brighter, and you were enjoying watching the waves rolling.

“How in the world did you prepare all of that?”

“Connie—she bought everything, had the coffee pot set to be ready when I got up before you, and all I had to do was cut up the pineapple and pack everything.”

“Connie’s the best.”

His chin was resting on your shoulder.

“She is. Are you enjoying the trip?”

“Yes,” you answered truthfully. “Your friends are great, and I’d love to visit again.”

“Good.”

The sky had erupted in bright yellows, oranges, and reds the closer the sun got to appearing.

“It’s so beautiful.”

“Not as beautiful as you,” he said, taking your left hand in his, his other arm staying around your middle.

In the past, if he said such a thing, you’d snort or deny the compliment, but you’ve been with him long enough to know it wasn’t just him saying words—he meant it. If you asked him if he’d rather watch the sunrise or look at you, he’d choose option two because he was so unbelievably in love with you there was nothing or nobody more beautiful to him; he didn’t even look at other women, or if you pointed out one was attractive, he sounded so uninterested, with his, ‘Sure,’ or, ‘I guess,’ before he got flirty and told you how you were hotter.

This man was obsessed with you, and it was the greatest feeling in the world to feel so wanted. Your insecurities would never disappear, but he did his best to ensure you knew he loved all of you, including your flaws and the things you hated. He was perfect, and sometimes you couldn’t believe he was yours.

You grabbed his hand on your stomach. “My sweet man, I’m literally the happiest girl in the world. I don’t know how I got so lucky meeting you,” you said, sighing wistfully. “You came into my life with those beautiful brown eyes, that perfect mustache, and those tight-ass jeans, and I was a goner. You take up my every thought, and second, and hour, and everywhere I look, it’s you who comes to mind—it’s always you. God, I get lost in your eyes, your smile, and your voice. I get lost just thinking about them. I am so in love with you, Javi, that I miss you constantly. You can be in another room, and I miss you. You can be sitting on the other end of the couch, and I miss you. What I’m trying to say, Javier, is that I love you and am as obsessed with you as you are with me and that I know, to you, I am more beautiful than what we’re looking at.”

Emotion made his words rough. “I’m happy you finally believe me.” He kissed your hair.

“I do. I definitely do.”

He cleared his throat. “Can I say my stupidly romantic shit now?”

You laughed, the sun just beginning to peek in the distance, the colors of the sky reminding you of the opening scene in The Lion King. “Yes,” you answered.

He cleared his throat. “Mi Cielito, eres mi primer amor y mi último, mi media naranja y la mujer con la que voy a pasar el resto de mi vida (My Cielito, you are my first love and my last, my soulmate, and the woman I am going to spend the rest of my life with). Yo te pertenezco (I belong to you). Todo de mí es tuyo (All of me is yours). Mi presente, mi futuro, te pertenece (My present, my future, belongs to you). Eres con quien quiero compartir mi vida, y con quien quiero pasar por los buenos momentos y malos (You are the one I want to share my life with and the one I want to go through the good times and bad with). Me haces un mejor hombre y me haces querer ser un mejor hombre que merece a alguien tan increíble como tú (You make me a better man, and you make me want to be a better man who deserves someone as incredible as you).

“Sabía que eras la unica desde el momento en que nos conocimos (I knew you were the one from the moment we met). Sentí una conexión contigo (I felt a connection with you)—por la primera vez, sentí paz y sé que era mi alma encontraba su pieza faltante (for the first time I felt peace and I know it was my soul finding its missing piece). Sabía que iba a casarme contigo en nuestra tercera cita mientras bailábamos en tu cocina, y si soy honesta conmigo mismo, sabía que te amaba entonces, también (I knew I was going to marry you on our third date while we were dancing in your kitchen, and if I’m honest with myself, I knew I loved you then, too)—las palabras estuvieron pegadas a la punta de mi lengua durante semanas antes de que las dijera en voz pero supe durante tanto tiempo que tú eras para mí (the words were stuck to the tip of my tongue for weeks before I said them out loud, but I knew for so long that you were it for me).”

Tears fell down your cheeks, hearing and watching the waves crashing, the sun rising in the flaming sky as the backdrop.

“It’s not fair your stupidly romantic shit is making me cry,” you sniffed.

He kissed the side of your neck, his right hand on your tummy moved up to cup your left cheek, swiping at some of the wetness with his thumb.

“Lo siento por hacerte llorar, pero no he terminado (I’m sorry for making you cry, but I’m not finished).”

“Please continue. It’s not like you’ll make me cry any harder.”

You could hear him smiling when he started talking again. “Mi sueño para donde estaremos en cinco años es que estemos casados, viviendo en la casa de sus sueños que he construido para ti, rodeado de tantos niños como quieras, que estemos criando juntos (My dream for where we’ll be in five years is that we’re married, living in your dream home that I’ve built for you, surrounded by as many kids as you want that we’re raising together). Quiero eso (I want that). Quiero que eso se convierta en una realidad (I want that to become a reality). Quiero hacer mis sueños realidad y convertirme en tu esposo (I want to make my dreams come true and become your husband).”

Gasping, your head turned to look at him, his hand leaving your face, realizing this was a proposal.

“Javi,” you whispered, your breath stuttering as teardrops streamed down your cheeks, your lip trembling. “Are we practicing?”

There’d been a few practice proposals, the rules for the real thing being that Javi had to do it, and there needed to be a ring. Being on the beach, with the rolling waves and the rising sun, made this the perfect location and time for him to do it, but there didn’t seem to be a ring…

“Sigue mirando el amanecer, mi amor (Keep watching the sunrise, my love).”

With a nod, you faced forward again and immediately jolted in shock, your palm covering your mouth, stifling your loud gasp.

In front of you, Javi held up with one hand an open white leather ring box containing a gold band with a decent-sized princess cut diamond in the middle and two smaller ones on either side.

It was beautiful.

And he was actually doing it.

This was the real thing.

It was finally happening, and your body was shaking with sobs, the tears from earlier turning into full-on ugly crying because you were so happy and overcome with emotion.

“Te amo tanto, para siempre no sería suficiente tiempo para pasar contigo (I love you so much forever wouldn’t be enough time to spend with you),” Javi continued, sounding choked up. “Soy tuyo hasta que respire por la última vez, y seguiré siendo tuyo cuando mi alma deje esta tierra (I am yours until my last breath, and I will still be yours when my soul leaves this earth). La muerte no nos mantendrá separados (Death won’t keep us apart); Nos volveremos a encontrar (We’ll meet again). Buscaré en el cosmos y en los cielos hasta encontrarte porque no puedo vivir sin ti (I will search the cosmos and the heavens until I find you because I cannot live without you); eres mi otra mitad, mi media naranja, y me haces completo (you are my other half, my soulmate, and you make me whole). No hay yo sin ti (There is no me without you).”

“Me haces feliz de una manera que nadie más puede (You make me happy in a way that no one else can). Me haces sentir amado (You make me feel loved). Te preocupas por mí, y por todo eso, tienes todo mi amor y total devoción, y quiero dedicarte cada pieza de mí mismo, cuerpo y alma a ti (You care about me, and for all that, you have all of my love and total devotion, and I want to dedicate every piece of myself, body and soul, to you). Mi Cielito, mi amor, mi vida, mi alma, mi todo ¿me hariás el hombre más feliz del mundo, te casarías conmigo (My Cielito, my love, my life, my soul, my everything, you’d make me the happiest man in the world, will you marry me)?”

Nodding your head, you answered through tears, “¡Por supuesto que sí (Yes, of course)! ¡Un millón de veces sí (A million times, yes)!”

He paused for a second. “Really?” he asked softly.

His surprise sobered you up to the point you frowned and stopped crying, shaking off his hand holding yours to turn around, sitting on your knees between his legs.

His eyes were rimmed with red, tear tracks streaking beneath them down his cheeks. You held his face in your hands, your gaze on his.

“Now, you listen here, Javier Jesús Peña López: I. Am. Marrying. You. You proposed with a ring, and I said yes. I. Said. Yes.” You poked him in the middle of the chest. “We’re getting married. I want to marry you, so please put that gorgeous fucking ring on my finger so we can make out.”

“Right, shit,” he said, fumbling to take the ring out in front of you, the box falling once he had it between his fingers. He grabbed your left hand, sliding the ring onto your ring finger, and it fit perfectly.

You were staring at it, the diamonds sparkling in the early morning light.

“It’s so beautiful,” you said, your vision muddled from the water brimming in your eyes.

“It was my mom’s.”

Your gaze snapped to his. “Your mom’s?”

He was smiling softly. “Yeah. She would’ve wanted you to have it, and Pop agreed; he had it cleaned the day after he met you.” His hand held yours, sliding his thumb over the ring, and you wept, the teardrops slowly falling. “He gave me his blessing to have it altered because the original center diamond was very modest—he worked on the ranch for the previous owner in high school to help out mis abuelos (my grandparents), and once he realized he was going to marry my mom, he started saving a little bit of his paychecks for years until he had enough to buy her a ring he felt proud about her wearing; he wanted me to feel proud when you showed it off, too. The rest is the same aside from being adjusted to your size.”

You were looking down at where his thumb was moving over each diamond, back and forth, knowing the ring's history making you feel incredibly emotional.

“She wore this?”

“Yeah.”

Your shoulders shook. “It’s perfect,” you said. “She’ll always be with us.”

Javi had tears wetting his cheeks as he smiled. “Yeah, she will.”

The sentiment had the floodgates letting loose and made you start to bawl, throwing your arms around his neck and shoving your face in his throat as you hugged him, his arms wrapping around you to hold you close. He comforted you while you happily sobbed.

You were just so unbelievably happy with everything that happened—the proposal was better than you ever could have dreamed, and the fact he’d done it with his mother’s ring was making you an absolute mess. It meant so much to you that Chucho and Javi felt Antonia would want you to have it, silently promising her as you held her son that for as long as you lived, he would be loved, cherished, and you’d take good care of him.

When you finally started calming down, you said into his skin, sounding stuffed up, “There’s not this much gross crying when people get engaged on TV or in movies. Like, who’d wanna make out with someone whose face is wet from snot and tears?”

He chuckled, rubbing a hand along your spine. “I would.”

Sitting up, you met his eyes with a frown. “I feel too icky.”

“Hold on.” He leaned to dig into the tote bag beside him and brought out a small square box of tissues, presenting it to you.

“Connie?” you asked as you pulled two from the top.

“Yeah.”

You were wiping your face. “We should get her a fruit basket—one of the fancy chocolate-dipped ones.” The tissues were discarded for another to blow your nose, thinking this had to be the peak of romance.

“We’ll do that. I was gonna get Steve a nice bottle of whiskey, but with what he did to the bed, he’s not getting shit now.” The box of tissues was set down.

You snorted, your face finally clean and hands free. “You’ll get back at him somehow. Now—” You moved to straddle his lap with your arms going over his shoulder and fingers threading into his hair. “—I’d like to make out with my fiancé.” His white collar caught your attention. “I’m surprised for such a special occasion, you didn’t match your shirt to mine.”

He was smirking, his hands coming up to slide along your cheeks before cradling them. “It’s because—” Gently, he pulled you forward, kissing the tip of your nose, then nuzzling it with his own. “—I’m wearing the same outfit I wore on our first date.” His lips found yours in a passionate kiss, remembering him sitting in the bar on your first date in his white button-up under the black leather jacket and jeans, and that it was exactly what he wore here—all of the thought he put into this morning making you go so soft you were practically goo as you melted into him, pressing yourself closer, and allowing his tongue to plunder your mouth.

Happiness was wafting off the both of you, the sun shining in an orange glow behind you as the waves crashed and rolled.

Javier Peña was your person—he was the love of your life, your soulmate, your best friend, and his newest title, your fiancé.

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---

Learning to Live Part 27

summary: Javier was warned by you that the place he chose to propose needed to be somewhere secluded because you’d be super horny afterward. What happens when you’re both super horny after he puts that ring on your finger? Let’s just say there’s no way in hell you’re making it back to your guest room at the Murphy’s, and you’re taking advantage of any time you have alone, even if it’s risky. 

rating: E (18+!! This is basically porn with plot. It is horny. No y/n, alternating POV, public sex, vaginal fingering, getting caught, oral sex (m & f receiving), road head, deepthroating, unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), creampie(s), woman on top, anal play, dirty talk, (MASSIVE) breeding kink, spit mention, come eating, birth control discussion, wedding planning, feelings, Angry Javier Peña, Javier Peña in love, Javier saying romantic things, Chucho being the best supportive father, Chucho jonesing to have grandchildren)

pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader

word count: 17.7k+

a/n: I have had a rough last couple of weeks, and the only thing that kept me from having a complete and total breakdown was writing about these two horny dummies. This chapter is unbeta’d, and any mistakes are my own. Shout out to @juletheghoul for ensuring the Spanish made sense and @theorganasolo for giving it a read. 

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to know what you thought!

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The waves were roaring as they rolled and crashed toward the shore; some bird he couldn’t identify was squawking in the distance, the warm, humid air smelling like salt and brine. All of that was surrounding him, and the only thing Javier cared about was the woman moaning beneath him. 

His fiancée.

She tasted like coffee and the sweetness of the berries and pineapple she had eaten earlier, tangling his tongue with hers. He held himself up with an arm beside her head on the blanket over the sand, giving himself enough space to work his other hand between their bodies and into her stretchy black leggings and panties. Two of his thick fingers were fucking in and out of her hot, wet cunt, his thumb on her swollen little clit, Javier swallowing her noises, knowing she was close with how tightly she was squeezing his digits. 

Happy was an understatement for how he felt; he was on cloud nine, over the goddamn moon, on top of the fucking world—Javier had to be the happiest man on the entire planet because she said yes. 

Yes!

She was wearing the ring, her fingers currently in his hair, and he was dying to be inside her. 

There wasn’t any reason for him to be surprised by her answer, yet up until she said that three-letter word, there’d been fear in the back of his mind she’d say no. Which was ridiculous for him to even think, and he deserved it when she laid into him that she did say yes, and she was going to marry him.

He’d brought her to a little stretch of beach away from the high-traffic, touristy areas Steve and Connie had shown him years ago, so they’d have some privacy hidden away in their alcove, and since the lifeguards didn’t start patrolling until eight, there wasn’t much risk of anyone coming across them. 

They didn’t get this far the first time they made out due to the interruption of her stomach growling and Javier stopping the heated kiss to insist that they eat breakfast, which they did as they watched the sun rise. Now, his cock was hard and straining in his jeans, arousal hot in his belly, working his fingers faster and making it a point to press into that spot that made her toes curl. Her muffled sounds got louder until her body was tensing, clamping down on his digits hard enough that he slowed his movements, working her through her climax with his thumb gently rolling over her sensitive bundle of nerves. 

He nipped at her chin while she panted. “Good girl,” he purred, kissing a wet streak under her jaw. “Quiero hacerte el amor bajo el sol (I want to make love to you under the sun).” His words were said into her skin. “Quiero dártelo despacito mientras escuchamos las olas (I want to give it to you slowly while we listen to the waves). ¿Quieres eso (You want that)?” He sucked on her pulse point, and she moaned out yes, which might be his new favorite word.

All he needed to do was pull down her pants and underwear with how she was soaked and ready for him, and he’d be able to slide his dick inside the wet, snug heat of her pussy; Javier removed his hand from down her leggings, groaning as he sat up on his knees, his fingers going into her elastic waistband, starting to tug—

“Good morning, folks,” an unfamiliar masculine voice greeted.

Javier’s stomach plummeted, his heart pounding in his chest, and he immediately went on the defensive. His hands left her as his upper body twisted, and his head turned to glare at the interloper. 

Fuck. 

A small white truck was a little way away from them with Ocean Rescue in big blue letters on the side of it, a rack on the back with a long white paddleboard atop it, and a red lifeguard rescue tube hanging from it. A guy in his late twenties was in the driver's seat, his arm hanging out of the window, dark sunglasses covering his eyes, with floppy black hair and a clean-shaven face. 

Javier cleared his throat, frowning. 

“Good morning, sir...” he said. 

Thank Christ, with how they were positioned, the younger man wouldn’t have seen anything; Steve would give him so much shit if he got arrested because he couldn’t keep it in his pants.

“It’s usually only surfers out this early.” The lifeguard smiled. “I just wanted to make sure everything is okay over here.”

“Yeah, we’re fine.” 

“Ma’am,” the man said a little louder, “is everything okay over here?” 

“Everything’s great!” Javier glanced over to see she was holding her thumb up. 

“Awesome.” The guy in the truck focused back on Javier. “I hate being a buzzkill, man, and getting in the way of your fun, but it’s my job to remind you this is a public beach.”

“Right, yeah.” Javier scratched at the back of his neck. “Sorry.” 

He waved away his apology. “Don’t sweat it. Just enjoy the rest of your day!”

“Yeah, you, too. Thank you.”

The other man nodded once, his attention going in front of him as he started driving, slowly making his way down the beach and away from them. 

“Oh my god, Javier,” Cielito groaned. “That was too close.” 

He faced her, seeing her hands covering her eyes.

“I’m sorry, mi amor (my love),” he said, checking his watch. “Fuck, I didn’t realize it was after eight.”

She looked at him with shock on her face. “How did we lose track of time? How long were we fooling around for?” 

“I don’t know.” He sighed, pressing clean fingers to his forehead. “I got so fucking caught up in everything I forgot to pay attention to the time.” 

There was rustling as she sat up, her hands rubbing along his biceps. “We both got caught up and forgot we had a time limit. On the bright side, he stopped us before you pulled your dick out or got my pants off, so he saved us from being arrested for indecent exposure.”

“Still coulda gotten us with a lesser charge for fucking around in public.” 

She pulled his hand away from his face to make him look at her and the soft smile on her kiss-swollen lips. 

“But he didn’t. So, why don’t we pack up and take this party back to the house where we can attempt a quickie without anyone knowing?” She wagged her eyebrows.

His cock twitched, gulping at the thought. “Or I could just fuck you in the back of the car?” That was a better option. 

“You know how much I love car sex, and the SUV does have a lot of space in the backseat and those dark, tinted windows, but I think our public sex luck has run out for today. I can picture perfectly how giddy Steve would be if he had to bail us out of jail because we were caught having sex in public.”

The image of his best friend’s grinning face came to mind, and just the thought made his jaw clench and mouth turn down in a frown. 

He sighed. “You’re right. Steve would never let me live it down. The house is a better idea.” 

“I’m always right,” she said with a smile, lightly patting his cheek.

Javier snorted, leaning forward to kiss her. “You are always right,” he murmured against her lips.

He felt her smile. “You’re gonna be the best husband.” The fingers of both her hands slid into the hair above his ears, and, along with her words, he had a shiver moving down his spine, feeling himself melt under her touch. 

“And you’re gonna be the best wife,” he said as they broke apart, and he took her left hand into his, seeing the ring on her finger, bringing it up to his lips to kiss it. 

“Ugh, we need to leave right this second because it is essential I make you come.” 

He smiled, meeting her eyes. 

“Essential? What if we can’t sneak away from the Murphys? I’m sorry, baby, but you might have to wait until tonight to get me off.” 

The wheels were turning in her head. She was thinking hard until she nodded to herself at figuring something out. “I’m gonna make you come.” It was stated as a fact. “Before tonight.”

His eyebrow rose. “Uh-huh, right, and how are you going to do that?” 

The toothy smile on her face was reminiscent of the Cheshire cat. “Oh, it’s a surprise.” 

“It’s a surprise?”

“Yep.”

“No hints?” 

“Nope.” She shook her head. 

The most logical way for her to achieve her goal was to corner him in the bathroom back at Steve and Connie’s, but he didn’t think she’d be this excited about that. She had something else in mind, and he was curious what it was, finding her eagerness to get him off a major turn-on, as evidenced by the hard-on in his pants. 

“I do like surprises,” he mused. 

“You especially love sexy surprises, and I think you’re really going to like this one.” 

“I know I will.” He caressed her cheek, memorizing how her face looked in the soft glow of the morning sun—breathtaking. “I love you.” 

She smiled. “I love you, too.” 

It didn’t take them long to pack up the stuff he’d brought into the tote bag that included empty berry containers, a mostly drunk thermos of coffee, and two dirtied coffee mugs, folding the big blanket, too, and putting it all in the trunk of the rental. 

Javier thought the smile on his face might be permanent, with how it wouldn’t go away. He opened the passenger door for her. “Your ride awaits, Mrs. Peña.” She took the hand he held out to help her up into the vehicle as she giggled. 

“Future, Mrs. Peña,” she corrected as she sat down in her seat. 

He took the step to have him next to her and bent to be at her eye level, gently turning her head with his fingers on her chin. “You said yes, and you’re wearing the ring—all that’s keeping you from legally being my wife is a ceremony and a piece of paper, but to me? I’ve already got it in my head that you’re Mrs. Peña, my wife, and people will know you’re taken just by looking at your hand.” He nodded toward her hands in her lap on top of his leather jacket. 

“You love that.” Her smile was beaming. 

“Love what?” 

She held up her left hand. “That you put a ring on my finger so it’s clear I’m off the market and unavailable—you like that you’ve staked your claim.” 

Now, that made him frown—he did love that the engagement ring broadcasted she was in a serious relationship, but he did not like the idea that it was him putting a claim on her like she was a piece of property. 

An exasperated breath left her. “Let me rephrase,” she said, “because I can see it on your face—” She gestured at it. “—that you’re hating me objectifying myself. You like that I’m wearing something that shows I’m yours and have chosen to spend my life with you, and when we’re together, others will see it and know, too.”  

He was smiling again, taking her left hand into his, the pad of his thumb feeling the smoothness of the gold band, then the ridges of one small diamond, two, the largest, and down to the smaller ones before it was smooth gold again, and rubbing back over it, over and over again, as he spoke. “Yes,” he said. “I love that you’re wearing this ring so I can see the proof every fucking day that you chose to marry me—” He pressed his free hand to his chest. “Me. You’re marrying me, and just like how I can see the proof, everyone else can, too—they’ll know you’re mine, and I’m yours, and you’ve chosen me, and I can’t wait to wear my own ring to broadcast to the entire fucking world that I’m a married man and your husband.” 

“God, you’re so fucking sweet—gold or silver?” 

His eyebrows scrunched together. “Huh?” 

“Your wedding ring. Gold or silver? Do you want diamonds on it? Or a different kind of gem? What are you imagining?”  

“A gold band—nothing on it,” he answered immediately. “Gold that matches yours.” 

Her eyes softened. “That makes perfect sense—something simple and classic.” 

“Yeah, that’s all I need.” 

“I’ll keep it in mind. Now, let’s go, babe.” Her right hand brushed his bangs off his forehead. “You know how horny it makes me when you’re stupidly romantic, and I hate that you were cockblocked.” 

He huffed out an amused breath. “I’m fine, mi amor (my love).” He gave her a quick peck on the lips. 

Her hand moved from his face to the front of his jeans, Javier’s mouth falling open as she rubbed over his half-hard dick. “Sure, you’re fine,” she said. “Sure, you don’t care about not coming.” 

There was a dull ache low in his gut from not getting off, and he swallowed hard at remembering her promise to make him come before that evening. 

“Fuck, let’s go.” He kissed her quickly, grabbing her seatbelt and getting it around her body to buckle it in, kissing her one more time before he moved to shut the door, the dark window obscuring the view of her. 

Cars were crowding the roads when they started heading back to the Murphys, the rush hour traffic making their commute much longer than the forty-five minutes it’d taken earlier that morning. 

Javier fucking hated traffic, and it was one of the things he didn’t miss about Miami. 

His jaw was clenched tight as they moved at a crawl down the highway with one hand on the steering wheel and his other in Cielito’s lap with their fingers intertwined, trying his best not to let his irritation of the other drivers sour their joyous day. 

A candy apple red Mazda Miata with its top down almost hit their front bumper as it cut into their lane, causing Javier to slam on the brakes and lay on the horn. “Fuck!” 

The guy in the car flipped him off, and his nostrils flared, his heart hammering, it taking everything in him to resist the urge to jump out of their Ford and kick the other man’s ass. 

“Give me your cell phone,” his wife-to-be said.

He was seething, glancing at her. “What?” The word slipped through his teeth. 

She let go of his hand to hold out her palm, looking at him expectantly. “Give me your cell phone, please.” 

There was a deep frown on his face, his eyebrows dipped low, not wasting another second as he adjusted in his seat to easily pull the cell phone off his belt, passing it to her. 

“Where’s your phone?” he asked, looking over at her.

“Home,” she answered, her attention on the phone’s numbers under the protective case’s front plastic. 

“Why didn’t you bring it?” 

“Why would I need it? We’re gonna be together the whole time we’re here, and I kinda didn’t want anyone to be able to reach me unless it was an emergency, which, if that were the case, they’d know to call you.” 

Her answer made him smile, liking that she didn’t want their time together to be interrupted. He watched as she pressed a number, then the call button to speed dial someone, the device going up to her ear. 

Seconds later, she was laughing. “Sí, Pop (Yes, Pop),” she said, “me propuso matrimonio y yo dije que sí (he proposed to me and I said yes).” She giggled, and he was looking at the road again as he listened, not caring about the traffic anymore. “Creo que soy yo la afortunada y seria estúpida si hubiera dicho que no (I think I’m the lucky one and I would have been stupid if I’d said no). Javi es increíble y me hace la mujer más feliz del mundo entero (Javi is amazing and he makes me the happiest woman in the world). No sabes lo feliz que estoy de que me haya pedido que fuera su esposa (You don’t know how happy I am that he asked me to be his wife)... Eso es cierto, estabas asi de feliz cuando Antonia dijo que sí (That’s true, you were this happy when Antonia said yes). ¿No es la mejor sensación (Isn’t it the best feeling)? Apuesto a que Javi también lo está sintiendo (I bet Javi’s feeling it, too).” 

“I am,” he said, his head turning toward her with a smile, warmth spreading through his veins. “Sí, lo soy (Yes, I am). Se siente increíble (It feels amazing).”

She grinned. “Sí, él también está muy feliz (Yes, he’s very happy, too),” she told his dad. Something she heard made her laugh, and Javier wished he knew what his father was saying.

“What did he say?” Javier whispered, focusing back on what was in front of him. 

It had her switching to English, sounding amused. “We haven’t even been engaged a day, and you’re already asking about grandchildren.” 

Of course, that was what his dad wanted to talk about. It made his heart speed up that this was the conversation that would determine if Cielito and he would start their family—she wanted to discuss living on the ranch with Chucho while their house was being built, something his father had already agreed to with him but hadn’t talked to her about yet.

A big smile was on her face as she spoke. “Yes, we will definitely be married before a baby is born… We haven’t had a chance to hash out the details of our wedding yet… Oh, of course, we have to do something at the ranch with Daphne and Velma—” Those were their two calves they lovingly called their bovine children. “—and we’d have to make sure Steve, Connie, and their family can be there…” Her tone shifted to something somber, and he quickly looked over to see she was frowning, and he matched her look. “It’s fine that you asked,” she said, “but, no, I wouldn’t want anyone from my family there; I don’t think they’d come if we invited them, and I’d worry they’d cause a scene if they did show up… You and the rest of the Peña’s are all the family I need…”

Javier’s heart squeezed, reaching over to rub her thigh. “I love you, too…” She grabbed his hand and held it, his dad making her laugh again. “Yes, yes, your nietos (grandchildren),” she replied in exasperation. “Javi said he talked to you… I know you’re excited, Pop…” She was smiling again. “You really won’t mind a crying baby?” Javier held his breath. “You’re sure?” Whatever his answer was, it had her giggling. “I’m going to remember you said that! Today, December 11th, at—” Her attention went to the clock radio. “—8:39 am Jesús Eduardo Peña Torres swore he wouldn’t mind his grandchild crying at all hours of the night and stated he would even assist in caring for the child to give his son- and daughter-in-law breaks…” His father said something that cracked her up, saying through her laughter, “You’re going to put it in writing for us?!” Javier chuckled, thinking when they saw his dad next, he most likely would have something written up for them because he was that serious. 

As much as he was loving the banter between his fiancée and father, he was dying to know if this had quelled her worries. 

The bumper-to-bumper traffic was an afterthought as he glanced over at her. “How are you, uh, feeling?” he quietly asked. 

Her bright, shining eyes met his with a grin on her beautiful lips, moving the phone away from her mouth to cover the speaker. She whispered, “Oh, it’s go time, babe. Like, I am going to be keeping you busy."

The smile on his face made his cheeks hurt, her answer causing arousal to burn low in his gut and blood to rush to his groin.

She was going to keep him busy trying to get her pregnant, and he was more than up for the challenge—his dick hardening at the thought.

Cielito uncovered the cell phone, saying to his father, "Yes, I'm still here; sorry, Javi had a question... Oh, of course." She was smiling. "I love you, too. Here he is." With that, she held the phone out toward him, and he took it.

"¿Bueno (Hello)?" he answered with the device at his ear.

"¿Le propusiste matrimonio durante el amanecer como hablamos (Did you propose during the sunrise like we talked about)?"

While his wif-fiancée was out with her best friend the previous weekend, he’d gone to the ranch to discuss his proposal idea with his dad since the elder Peña was a romantic like him and understood what he wanted to do. 

"Sí (Yes)."

“¿Dijiste el gran discurso romántico que habías planeado pero que te negaste a practicar conmigo (Did you say that big romantic speech you had planned but refused to rehearse with me)?”

Javier sighed, remembering how his dad had needled him to say it—the only reason he didn’t was because of how intimate and personal it was, and he only wanted his intended to hear it. 

“Más o menos (More or less),” he answered. “Acabo de decir lo que se sentía bien y vino del corazón (I just said what felt right and came from the heart).” 

“¿Y a ella le gustó mucho (And did she like it a lot)?

“Ella dijo que sí, así que supongo que si (She said yes, so I guess she did).” 

“¡Esi es, mijo (That’s it, son)! Sabes, recibes tus genes románticos de mí (You know, you get your romantic genes from me).” Pride was in his tone. “No tengo duda de que lo que dijiste fue hermoso (I have no doubt that what you said was beautiful). ¿Le gustó el anillo (Did she like the ring)?”

His head turned and looked at it on her finger.

“Le encanta el anillo, especialmente porque era de mi mamá (She loves the ring, especially because it was my mom’s). Ella estaba conmovida que le dejaste tenerlo (She was touched you let her have it). Eh—” Their SUV was moving at a slow roll, and his head moved away from her, switching ears as he said, hopefully quietly enough that she wouldn't hear, "¿Es normal que haya mucho llanto (Is it normal for there to be a lot of crying)..?"

Chucho laughed. "Sí, Mijo (Yes, Mijo). Eso es bueno (That’s good). Tu madre también lloró cuando le propuse matrimonio (Your mom also cried when I proposed)—Incluso yo también lloré (I even cried).” 

“Yo también (I did, too)."

"No hay nada de malo en eso (There is nothing wrong with that). Estoy muy feliz por ti, Javi, y orgulloso de ti (I am so happy for you, Javi, and proud of you). Vas a ser un esposo increíble (You’re going to be an amazing husband)."

The praise had a lump forming in his throat.

"Gracias, Pop (Thank you, Pop)."

"No, thank you, Mijo (No, gracias, Mijo). Has traído a una mujer maravillosa a nuestra familia y me encanta tener una hija (You've brought a wonderful woman into our family and I love having a daughter). Sería aún mejor si también tuviera algunos nietos (It would be even better if I also had some grandchildren)."

Javier sighed. "Lo sé, lo sé (I know, I know). Quieres a tus nietos (You want your grandchildren). Bueno, tendrás que esperar porque no es algo que sucede asi tan rapido (Well, you're going to have to wait because it's not something that happens overnight)."

"Lo siento por ser tan agresivo (I’m sorry for being pushy). Es que estoy emocionado (I’m just excited). ¿Ayudó mi conversación con ella (Did my talk with her help)?"

"Sí (Yes). Gracias por quedarte en casa hoy (Thank you for staying home today)."

"No quería perderme tu llamada (I didn't want to miss your call)."

"Lo aprecio mucho, Pop (I appreciate it a lot, Pop)."

"De nada, Javi (You're welcome, Javi). Sabes que haré cualquier cosa por ustedes dos y sus futuros hijos (You know I'll do anything for the two of you and your future kids). Ustedes significan todo para mí (You all mean everything to me)."

Javier knew his dad was telling the truth, and it made his eyes burn with unshed tears.

"Te amamos (We love you)."

"Yo también te amo (I love you, too)."

He didn't want his emotions to get the better of him when they should be celebrating.

“We'll see you Sunday,” he said in English. 

"Yes, you will. I can't wait to get a picture of you and her with the engagement ring for my photo album. We're going to have a great dinner."

"Yeah, we will. I'm gonna get going. I'll let you know when we get home from our trip."

"Thank you. Congratulations, Mijo. I'm going to take some flowers to your mom and tell her the news. I love you—I love both of you, and your mother does, too."

The mention of his mom had foggy memories of his dream from the night before coming back to him, only recalling bits and pieces of it, but he knew his father was right—she did love them.

"Thanks, Pop. I love you, too. Bye."

"Bye, Mijo."

He pushed the end call button, moving it to his other hand. Beneath the car's stereo and temperature controls was a slot where he put the cell phone.

"Well," Javier started, reaching over to grab her hand, "I wouldn't be surprised if he had our wedding planned by dinner Sunday." He brought her hand up while he looked over at her and kissed the center diamond.

She giggled. "I'm pretty sure he started planning our wedding when we first got together, which, oh my god, how long has he known you were going to propose on this trip?"

"The first week of November. Why?"

His eyes were back on the road, keeping her hand in his palm, his thumb rubbing over the ring.

"Because over the last month, when it'd just be your dad and I talking, he was fishing for info on my dream wedding—I didn't think anything of it 'cause it's been set in stone for a long time that we're going to get married and I figured he was just being proactive."

Javier was frowning, feeling a twinge of annoyance that his dad could've ruined his plans.

"I'm glad it didn't tip you off..." he grumbled.

"Hey, don't be upset with him! He's our biggest supporter. He's invested in our relationship like we're Buffy and Angel or a couple in one of your tías telenovelas!"

His eyes narrowed. "He finds our relationship... entertaining?"

There was a lot of drama between couples in telenovelas, and he guessed they'd been through some shit in their relationship. She'd explained that vampire slayer show to him and made him watch some episodes, and knew Buffy and Angel didn't have an easy time being together.

"No, he doesn't find our relationship entertaining," she replied. "We're his favorite couple. He thinks we're meant to be together and wants our relationship to succeed more than anything."

"Oh."

"Yeah." There wasn't too much space between them, a small console keeping their seats separated, and she leaned over, her free hand reaching across her body to rub over his pec. "It's very sweet. There's something else I want to talk to you about."

"Yeah?" He turned on his blinker and looked over his shoulder to check his blind spot before merging into the next lane, where cars were moving a bit faster.

"Yes, babymaking."

Air hissed out of him at the sharp spike of arousal that cut through him.

He licked his lips. "What, uh, about it?"

"Our sex life is fucking amazing, and I don't want us to lose our spark and for it to become a chore; yes, we basically only have one shot a month, and we'll have to really go to town, but I want us to enjoy ourselves and fuck for pleasure, not for the sole purpose of reproducing."

Looking over at her with a smile, he said, "Yeah, that sounds good. I wouldn't want it becoming a chore, either."

She smiled. "I'm glad that's agreed upon. There's something else I need to tell you."

"Okay?"

"You know how we got up insanely early yesterday, too?"

That was when they traveled to Miami, and they'd woken up at 4 am to make their 6 am flight from Laredo to Dallas/Fort Worth.

"Yes?" He was paying attention to driving again.

"Well, apparently, in the hecticness that was making sure we had everything before we left the apartment, checking us in when we got to the airport, boarding the airplane, traveling, boarding another plane, and getting to Miami, it kinda, sorta, slipped my mind to take my birth control..."

His eyes went big, his head snapping toward her.

"What?"

"I know. I can't believe I forgot and just about had a heart attack this morning when I saw the pill in my pack—I had to make a choice."

"What choice?" he asked.

"It was either I take yesterday's and today's pills, or I take neither."

"What did you choose?" he breathed out the question. He thought his heart might thump right out of his chest, looking forward once more.

"Well, based on the fact that I showered after each time we fucked yesterday, and there's still come inside me, and we've agreed to a baby, I just said fuck it and threw away the entire pack."

His brain short-circuited, it taking him a little longer than usual to process what she said, and needing to make sure he understood her correctly.

"You're no longer on birth control..?"

"Nope," she said with a pop of the 'p.'

"I could get you pregnant?"

"Yep." The word popped from her mouth.

"Fuck." Blood was rushing to his dick, remembering how he had come inside her twice the day before. What if he’d already knocked her up?

She removed her hand from his, her upper body turned toward him and close while she rubbed along his inner thigh, making him gulp.

"Do you like that?" she purred.

Both of his hands were on the steering wheel now, squeezing so tight the leather creaked.

He cleared his throat. "You know I do."

She palmed his swelling cock, and his mouth fell open.

"Yes, you do. It's too bad we're gonna get back to the house and won't be able to lock ourselves away in the guest room and fuck for hours. Just imagine fucking me over and over again to keep me all nice and full."

Now, it was all he could think about. He was fully hard, and he hated that they wouldn't be able to do just that. How was he supposed to enjoy the rest of their trip when he was so fucking horny?

"How long until we get back to the Murphys?" she asked.

It took him a second to register her question; his brain was stuck on imagining fucking her in a myriad of positions and finishing inside her each time.

He glanced at the clock, then the cars in front of them, and the sign on the side of the highway for where they were. "Uh, maybe forty/forty-five minutes." And then they wouldn't be alone until later that night, which made his mouth turn down, annoyed. "Why would you put that shit in my head?" he groused. 

Sure, they could try to slip away to be alone; however, he had his doubts that they’d have enough time to fuck. They didn't have an excuse like they did yesterday of needing a nap and shower after traveling. The kids would want their attention—Steve and Connie sure as fuck would notice if they disappeared for an extended amount of time in their home, and his best friend would happily interrupt if he had a chance, like when he banged on the wall the night before when they were trying to have sex in that goddamn squeaky bed.

"Because," she answered, "I want you to be so horny you'll let me suck your dick right this second."

His cock jerked hard in his jeans as he groaned.

"I thought you said our public sex luck had run out?"

"Our stationary public sex luck has run out, but now we're moving in a dark windowed vehicle. So, if you want and think you can handle it, I'll suck you off to take an edge off of how unbelievably horny you are—which you're at the grumpy stage of being unbelievably horny, and I'd prefer getting you in a better mood, so you're not too mean to Steve."

She was right. He was unbelievably horny.

"Okay, yes, please."

The sight before him was miles upon miles of cars and a sea of glowing red rearview lights, the tall buildings in downtown Miami jutting high in the sky off in the distance to the left. They were moving slowly and steadily down the road. 

Her seatbelt clicked as she unbuckled herself, shuffling to get her knees on her seat, leaning over the small, low center console, his hand closest to her moving to rest on her shirt-covered back to give her room to work open his belt and jeans.

The metal of his belt buckle rattled, and she quickly popped open the button on his pants, lifting his hips instinctively for her fingers in the denim waistband to tug them down far enough to free his throbbing dick and heavy sack; his jeans pulled taut as they stretched across his spread thighs. 

He looked down to watch her spit in her palm, the ruddy tip of him shining with precum. She took him in hand, and he gasped, her head tilting up to meet his gaze. Reaching, he squeezed a handful of her ass. 

"I know you love watching, but I need you to be a good boy and keep your eyes on the road." He swallowed hard. "Just know I've wanted to do this since the beach, and I'm happy you're finally letting me—my panties are drenched." 

"Jesus Christ," he said on an exhale, looking forward at the sports car they were slowly following. "I love you so fucking much." Both of his hands went to the steering wheel, keeping them at ten and two.

"I love you, too, and if it becomes too much, you're allowed to tap out." 

"I know." 

She licked a broad stripe from base to tip, swirling her tongue around the head, making Javier groan as she pressed into those sensitive spots that made sparks dance along his spine. Pleasure had ignited in his belly, her lips wrapping around him and taking him into the hot, wet heat of her mouth, his jaw dropping and hands making the leather screech with how tightly he was squeezing the steering wheel. 

The vibrations of her moans had the fire rapidly building in his gut, loving how he could hear how much she was enjoying herself.

She spit on the head of his cock, following it with her mouth, bobbing up and down, taking more and more of him until he was hitting the back of her throat, and it had him panting when she swallowed around him to take him down into the tight space. 

"Oh, fuck, baby," he moaned, his toes curled in his boots. "That's so fucking good." 

It did feel good, but what would be even better was if he could fuck her—he was greedy. She was giving him a fantastic blow job, and all he could think about was how he wished he was inside her—that it was the wet heat of her pussy enveloping him right now. 

Yeah, she was on her way to getting him off—she was now wetly stroking him while her head dipped down so she could lick at the thin skin of his balls—but no matter how much pleasure she was bringing him, there was still an undercurrent of irritation from being interrupted that morning when he was trying to get into her pants. 

This might not have been the best idea when the car behind them honked because he was going too slow; Javier immediately sped up. 

She was right. 

She could take the edge off of how horny he was by making him come with her mouth; he just hated he couldn't fuck her until later that night. 

Add in the fact she accepted his proposal and told him she wasn't on birth control anymore, and it was killing him he had to wait to have sex with her. She put it in his head about fucking her for hours, and he was annoyed it wasn't something he actually had the means to do with them being on a trip. 

If it was his choice and he knew they could get away with it, he’d lock them away in the guest room when they returned to Steve and Connie’s and spend as much time as he could between his future wife’s legs.

She had him back down her throat, humming around him, and he felt his eyes beginning to roll back in his head—a horn blared behind them again, this time the car speeding to pass around them, the traffic finally letting up, and the vehicles moving at regular speeds. It pissed him off, turning on his blinker and looking over his shoulder as he moved over into the far right lane for slower traffic, hoping people would leave them the fuck alone. 

He was close, his heart beating rapidly, and dick swallowed down deep in her throat while her hand fondled his sack, it adding fuel to the burning fire in his gut, the muscles starting to tighten—at the thought of finishing in her mouth, he frowned. 

A sign on the side of the road caught his attention, showing some places off the next exit that gave him an idea. Glancing at the clock on the stereo, he made a decision.

Or, more accurately, his dick made a decision. 

"Don't make me come." 

His sentence came out strained, his big hand on the back of your head and his hard cock nestled in the tight confines of your throat. Tears were streaming from the corners of your eyes at suppressing your gag reflex, saliva dripping down your chin.

What he said made your eyebrows furrow, humming, 'What?' around him. 

You could hear the blinker clicking, his long arm reaching to grab some of your ass. 

"Don't make me come," he said again.

With how he was panting and his tense thighs, you knew it wasn't going to take much more to finish him, and you didn't understand why he wanted you to stop, coming off of him with a gasp, a string of spit keeping you connected. 

Your breaths were labored, sitting up to look at him. 

"Are you okay?" you asked. 

He looked at you with a smirk, his face flushed. 

"I'm fucking amazing," he answered.

His dick was slick as your hand languidly jerked him, easily moving up and down the velvety skin. 

"...and you don't want to come..?" It made no sense. You knew how horny he was. 

"I want to come." His eyes went to the road. "I just don't wanna come in your mouth." He seemed to be looking for something outside, his head moving forward with squinted eyes, and your face turned to see where you were, finding that he was taking you down a busy city street lined with stores, restaurants, and motels. 

"Um, what's your game plan here, babe?" You were beyond confused. "We're not back in Laredo, where you have your secret sex spots around town." There were different secluded places Javi had found in his younger years to park his truck and fool around with girls. "This seems too risky."

The buildings were getting nicer and newer the closer you got to the towering buildings of downtown. 

"We're not doing anything risky, mi amor (my love). Especially not after this morning. Trust me."

The blinker ticked as he pulled into the parking lot of a hotel that was by far the fanciest you've driven past so far, but definitely not a five-star establishment—maybe three if you had to guess while the others had been ones and twos. 

"You're joking," you said. "We're not getting a hotel room and abandoning your friends." 

He parked in a spot facing the road and turned off the engine, wiggling in his seat as he got his jeans up.

"We're not staying here for the night," he said, watching as he tucked his still-hard cock into the waistband of his pants he buttoned and buckled, covering it with the bottom of his white button-up shirt. 

"This isn't the kind of place that rents by the hour, Javi. We passed those, and I don't get why we didn't stop at one if we're planning to fuck for an hour or two." 

His eyes met yours as he frowned. "I'm not taking the woman I love, my fiancée, to a seedy motel. You deserve better, so I don't give a fuck if this place doesn't rent by the hour, I'm getting us a room no matter how much it costs, and I'm going to fuck you for a couple of hours because I swear I'm going to go fucking crazy if I don't come inside your pussy in the next twenty minutes."

What he said had you clenching hard around nothing, completely down for his plan. There wasn’t anything for you to wipe your face off with, so you settled on using your shirt to get the spit and tears off your skin, not caring about the dark splotches on the coral-colored fabric when you were done. 

"Let's go," you said, grabbing your purse from the floor and getting out of the SUV.

Javi met you at the back of the vehicle and grabbed your hand, pulling you behind him as he briskly walked toward the entrance. 

“I love that you’re comfortable enough in your masculinity to admit you’re not gonna last and didn’t lie to me about how you were gonna rock my world or some shit.”

He looked over his shoulder at you with an eyebrow raised. "Who said I'm not gonna rock your world? Yeah, the first round might be quick, but it's still gonna be good for you, baby." He ended the sentence with a wink, which had your skin heating. Javi focused on what was in front of him as you walked through the doors that automatically slid open upon your approach. 

He wasn't joking when he said he didn't care about the cost—it was a Friday during the busiest travel season of the year, and you hadn't booked ahead; you were lucky they even had a room available. There was no hesitation when they told him the obscene price for one night, and he handed over his American Express credit card. His black leather wallet was in one hand, the fingers of the other tapping impatiently on the marble countertop while he waited for the worker to finish the transaction. 

He didn't read over any of the paperwork he scribbled his signature on, and once they told him the room number and handed over the keycard, his hand was taking yours to quickly lead you to the elevator the hotel employee had pointed out.

The room was a queen suite with the typical bedroom furniture—a bed, nightstands, dresser, TV, as well as a sitting area that consisted of a couch and coffee table, a desk on the opposite wall, beside a mini fridge with a microwave atop it. 

There wasn't much time to take in the details because the moment Javi got the door open, he was dragging you in and kicking it closed as his mouth collided with yours in a hard and searing kiss, palming your ass with one hand, an arm around your back guiding you further into the room. 

The keycard got tossed onto the desk, along with your purse, his tongue eagerly pressing between your lips. Arousal was burning in your belly, your fingers working open the buttons of his shirt while he walked you toward the bed that was in the far corner and felt like it was miles away. 

The tension that had built up since your morning liaison had been interrupted was so thick it was palpable enough to be cut with a knife. There was desperation in your kisses, feeling his need with every hungry press of his lips to yours; relief as you removed each other's clothes, that you were finally somewhere you didn't need to worry about how loud you were or anyone bothering you; overwhelming happiness over the day's events and eagerness to make use of the perfect, not-absurdly squeaky, queen-size bed.

The two of you were naked in record time, and after Javier pulled off the ugly red and green floral printed bedspread to fall into a pile on the floor, he was facing you, his hard dick bobbing between his legs, with a look on his face that promised trouble.

"No," you said.

That just made him grin and move quicker as he replied, "Yes," his arms getting around you as you laughed. He used that impressive strength he developed from doing manual labor on his father's ranch to toss you onto the mattress, where you bounced a few times, the springs complaining under your weight—Javi quickly followed, finding yourself with a sizable man on top of you, his hips nestling in their home between your thighs while his lips found yours once more. 

His hair was soft between your fingers, feeling the hard line of his cock pressing into your belly. 

You spoke between kisses. "You just love… throwing me like… a sack of potatoes." 

You felt his mouth curve into a smile. "Yes."

"One of these days… you're gonna… throw out… your back." 

He nipped at your lip, pulling back to look at you with a grumpy expression. "I'm not gonna throw out my fucking back—I'm used to hauling around calves and bails of hay. Tossing you around is nothing." 

"Okay, Hercules. Now, how do you want me?” You held his cheeks. “Missionary? Doggy? Cowgirl? Reverse cowgirl? From the side? In your lap? What are you feeling? 'Cause you weren't the only one cockblocked this morning, and I would really like to get fucked." 

"Do you wanna come on my fingers again? Or my mouth?" 

"Nope.” You smiled. “Dick, please." 

He crookedly smiled. "I love you so fucking much." 

"A girl tells you she wants your dick, and you proclaim your love—how romantic." 

"My wif-fiancée," he quickly corrected, "tells me she wants my dick when I'm dying to be inside her—I'm gonna proclaim my love for her. Hell, I wanna propose to you again."

You giggled. "The power of my pussy,” you said, pulling him down for a brief kiss, your eyes on his when you separated. "And I love you, too. Position?"

He gave you a quick peck. “You’ll see,” he said and started getting up, a pained groan leaving him. 

Sitting up on your elbows, you watched as he moved to sit on the edge of the bed by you with his feet easily planted on the floor. With where he was on the mattress, you had a view of his profile, taking in the curve of his nose and his plush, pillowy lips, watching him spit on his fingers that he curled around his shaft, hearing the wet strokes as he slicked himself up.

His head turned to you. “Move your legs.” 

He wanted to lie back, and it made you smile as you moved them out of his way and got up on your knees. “I’m riding you,” you said. 

Javi was lying on his back with his long legs bent at the knees along the edge of the bed while his feet touched the ground, and his ass settled a little over halfway to the middle of the mattress. 

He was looking at you with a smile. “Yeah—get on, mi amor (my love).” 

“My ride awaits?” you asked, tossing him a few pillows, Javi putting one under his head as you shuffled toward him. 

“My dick awaits.” And it was, his cock resting against his stomach in the hair below his belly button, shining from his saliva in the dim light coming from over by the door. 

“Yes, it is.” When you went to straddle him, his hand on your thigh stopped you. 

“Other way,” he said. 

A toothy smile appeared on your face. “Reverse cowgirl.” You turned around with your back to him, getting your leg over his hips. “I’m surprised you’re putting me in charge,” you said, keeping a hand on his thigh for balance while the other went between your legs to grab his hard length. “I’d think with how horny you are, you’d wanna just fuck my brains out.” Slotting him at your entrance, you didn’t draw things out and sunk down, matching moans coming from you both as he stretched your tight walls, and you took him all the way down to the hilt. 

His hands were on your hips, holding you flush against him. 

"Don't move," he said through his teeth, his cock twitching inside you. 

You were leaning forward with your palms on his thighs for leverage. 

"I won’t—god, you feel so good inside me, Javi. I love you.” 

"You feel so good around me." He already sounded wrecked. 

It took a minute before his fingers loosened their grip. 

"Monta me (Ride me)." He smacked the side of your ass. "Monta me, mi Cielito (Ride me, my Cielito). Mi amor, mi vida, mi prometida (My love, my life, my fiancée). Haznos venir (Make us come)." 

At the order, you started moving, rising on your knees until only the tip of him remained inside and falling back down, over and over again, at a steady pace. 

"I fucking love you," he groaned. "Fuck, you look so good." His hands squeezed your asscheeks, spreading them and helping you bounce. "This ass—fucking love this ass bouncing on my dick." He gave it a spank; his voice was tight like it was taking everything in him to keep himself from coming. "Love this pussy; this perfect pussy—I was made for this pussy.” His breaths were loud, and you knew if you looked at his face, it’d be screwed up like he was in pain with his eyebrows pulled together and teeth bared.

“Javi,” you moaned when his thumb slid through your wetness up his cock to press to your asshole, circling the tight ring of muscle, something blissful curling inside you. 

“I'm gonna marry you,” he continued. “I wanna give you my last name. Shit," he hissed and audibly gulped. "You’re off your birth control. You're gonna make me come, and I could get you pregnant." 

Obviously, he was loving the visual of seeing your ass move up and down as you worked yourself on him—and you were loving the things he was saying, so much so it had a wave of arousal dripping down his cock and making it slicker where you were joined.  

Heat had started forming at the base of your spine, your slick walls hugging his dick, spearing into you and fitting so perfectly, each stroke felt like nirvana.

"I'm gonna keep you full of my come today," he gritted out. "Gonna fuck you as many times as you'll let me to keep you stuffed."

A shock of pleasure in your tummy made you clench hard around him and stuttered your rhythm.

"You think you'll knock me up?" you panted.

"I know I'll knock you up—if not today, maybe tomorrow or the next day. I'll fuck a baby into you, eventually."

It was a promise, and it thrilled you.

Your breaths started coming out heavier, feeling the threads of your orgasm beginning to wind. Your brows were furrowed as you concentrated on your movements, breathily moaning. 

As incredible as this felt, just the penetration wouldn't get you off; you needed more—it was loud between your legs, hearing his cock wetly working in and out of your pussy, the bed’s springs softly squeaking beneath you, rough sounds coming from Javi’s throat, and softer ones slipping past your lips, the air conditioner, below the window, loudly thrumming in the background. 

"Fuck, lay back," he said. "I'm too fucking close."

It took a little maneuvering to get your legs out in front of you while keeping his dick in place and lying back so your spine was to his chest. You ended up leaning a little to the left, so your head rested beside his on two stacked pillows. His fingers dug into your waist, and he started thrusting up from beneath you, the new angle making his cock press into spots that had stars bursting behind your closed eyelids and his name leaving your lips in a hedonistic chant that seemed to only get louder as the seconds passed. 

This was on par with how you expected he'd fuck you when you got into this room, his feet planted and giving him the traction he needed to push up his hips and fuck into you hard and fast, his dick never more than halfway out of you. 

He was grunting in your ear, the pleasure in you building, hearing the slick slide of him fucking in and out of you. Your hands had grabbed onto his forearms for something to hold onto, your fingernails, no doubt leaving behind crescent moon indents in his skin. 

And since Javi knew your body like the back of his hand and how to play you like a goddamn fiddle, he licked two of his fingers and pressed the pads to your perky little clit, circling it just the way you liked while his other hand massaged your breast before his digits were tweaking your stiff nipple. 

"Need you to come for me," he grunted. "I wanna feel my fiancée come around my dick. I need you to squeeze me, so I can fuck you full of me—need to fill you up." 

The muscles in your abdomen began to wind up tight; the onslaught of his cock pistoning into you, his fingers swirling around your sensitive bundle of nerves, and your nipple being pinched and rolled had you soaring toward your end. 

"Oh god," you whined through hard breaths, "I'm gonna come—you're gonna make me come." 

"Let go, mi amor (my love)," he said. "Come for me, baby." 

The tension built inside you until you were cresting, coming with a shout, your body tensing up and pussy clamping down on him so hard it sent him with you. Javi pushed up into you as deep as possible, a low, dirty moan leaving him as his dick jerked hard, and you felt the pulse of spurts and spurts of his come painting your walls. 

Pleasure had overtaken every molecule in your body, your breaths panting from your lungs, and your heart thudding a mile a minute, not bothering to fight it when you went completely lax and became a dead weight atop your future husband. You welcomed the sweaty arms that wrapped around your middle, and turned you onto your sides without dislodging himself inside you, your hand going back to push into his damp hair, his face nuzzling at the back of your neck. 

There was a stillness to the room as your hearts slowed together and breaths evened out, the hum of the air conditioner’s motor the loudest sound. Calm had washed over you both; peace, relief—for the first time since you were back home, you could actually relax. There was no fear that someone heard you or you were too loud. Instead, you were able to bask in the post-coital glow when the two of you never felt closer and more connected. 

Minutes pass, and in the distance, you hear the occasional door slamming and voices passing by your rented room, fading away as quickly as they came. 

"What's your dream wedding like?" Javi asked, ending the long, comfortable silence. 

“You know how women say they’ve been dreaming about their wedding since they were little girls?” 

"Yeah?" 

"I don't know what kind of childhoods they had, but weddings never crossed my mind as a kid aside from when we had to go to one, and they were really fucking boring to me.” Javi snorted. “There was maybe one time I thought about my own nuptials, and it was in my early teens at my cousin's wedding that was insane. There were over two hundred people in attendance at some swanky venue, with expensive food and booze—think steak and lobster, a raw oyster bar, and Dom Pérignon; they went all out, and my mother made this comment about how so many of the guests would come to my future wedding—and she didn’t mean our family members; she was talking about the wealthy friends of our family I barely knew and the rich acquaintances my parents just wanted to rub elbows with.” 

“You hated that,” he said, kissing your bare shoulder. 

“I fucking hated it and was not okay with the idea that one of what was supposed to be the happiest days of my life would be hijacked to keep up appearances.”

“Sounds fucking miserable.” 

“Right? I don’t want a big wedding. I don’t like being the center of attention, and I know I seem pretty confident, but I actually get awful stage fright. So, I don’t think I want a small wedding either. My dream wedding is you and me going to the courthouse with your dad and Robyn as witnesses and eloping, then afterward, we throw a big party to celebrate with our friends and family—that just sounds nice to me.” 

His lips pressed to your neck. 

"What about you?" you asked. "How do you imagine your dream wedding?" 

His arms around your belly squeezed a little tighter. 

"My dream wedding is whatever you want it to be." 

"As sweet as that is, it's your special day, too. And you're a big 'ol sap, so I know you've got something in mind.” Your fingers scratched lovingly at his scalp.

"I don't want a big wedding, either.”

“I am well aware.” 

Years and years ago, his wedding with Lorraine was going to be the biggest in Laredo that year since her dad was the mayor and her family was well-known and the wealthiest in town—which was a huge reason why it was well over fifteen years later, and people still talked about Javier leaving her at the altar.

“Yeah, I guess you are—I love you.” He held you closer. 

“I love you, too, baby,” you said. 

“You wanna know how I picture our wedding?” he asked. “You know the tree on the hill out on Pop's land, I take you to watch the sunset?" It was the place where you told him you knew he loved you before he ever said the words and somewhere you’d returned many times after. 

"I'm very aware of the spot. We ride out there all the time." Him on his horse, Sombra, and you on his cousin's, Dulce. Javi was more than happy having you on his horse with him, but you had asked him to teach you how to ride by yourself, and he did. You quite enjoyed being able to do it on your own.  

His finger started skating along the skin of your belly, drawing random shapes. 

“I like to imagine us at the tree as the sun sets with my dad officiating—he’s holding his bible, and I know we’re not into that shit, but it’s Pop, and he’d give it his all, including a scripture or two, and a photo of mi mamá (my mom) he’d hold under his fingers to the cover of the book so she’s there with us, too, and Seb and Robyn would come as our only two witnesses.” His cousin, and your best friend/co-worker, who were dating. 

You could picture it perfectly, standing there beneath the old oak tree’s tall, twisting limbs and canopy of green leaves with Javi’s big hands holding yours as you said your vows and intertwined your lives with an exchange of rings, the sky exploding in color from the setting sun. 

"Your dream wedding is just a stupidly romantic version of my dream wedding,” you said. “How dare you out-dream wedding me!" 

He chuckled, sitting up a little and using his hand to turn your head by the chin so he could lean over and kiss your cheek. "I told you my dream wedding is whatever you want it to be.” He nuzzled against your face. “I don’t think I’ve told you this,” he said. “Sunrise and sunset used to be nothing more than the beginning and end of my day when I worked on the ranch, and then I met you—the sun would rise, and it meant another day with you in my life, and the beauty of it took my breath away. And sunsets? They’ve never been prettier—they’re gorgeous, and I want to share every sunrise and sunset with you for the rest of my life.” 

You flipped over, and it had him slipping out from between your legs, a low hiss coming from his mouth. 

"Sorry," you said, pushing him to lie on his back as you straddled his hips, and laid chest to chest with him. Your face hovered over his with your arms holding yourself up beside his head, ignoring his come oozing out of you. His eyes were squeezed shut as you stared at him. "I’m gonna marry you so hard, you sweet, adorable, romantic man—you said your dream wedding is whatever I want it to be, and now it’s your stupidly romantic wedding at our tree during sunset." 

His eyelids blinked open, and he smiled crookedly. 

"Yeah?" 

"Yes." You nodded. "Is your dad even ordained?" 

He had a thoughtful expression. "I don't think so? But I read you can get ordained online, and it's not difficult to do. We can ask him if he'd want to." 

Your face softened. "You know he'd love to." 

He was smiling. "Yeah, he would." 

The look on your face shifted to something mischievous. "And if he says no, we can just ask Steve to do it." 

His features scrunched into something annoyed, and a hand slapped your ass hard, making you laugh. 

"Over my dead body," he said. "He's not doing our fucking wedding ‘cause he’d say embarrassing shit and ruin everything. If Pop won't do it, then we're going to the courthouse." 

"That's it? We're either having a sunset tree wedding or going to the courthouse? There's nothing else you'd want?"

He thought it over for a second.

"I like your idea about a party afterward with our friends and family," he answered. "I'm with you on not wanting to get married in front of everyone, but I do wanna celebrate with them."

You smiled. "So, private ceremony and a poppin' party afterward? Did we just plan our wedding?"

He matched your look, his hand coming up to hold your cheek. "Yeah, I think we did." He pulled you down, kissing you tenderly. When he looked at you after, his gaze was soft. "Any day, any time, you tell me when, and I'll be there no matter what," he said. "Nothing will keep me from marrying you.” He suddenly looked unsure. “You know that, right?" 

It made your heart ache. He was worried you thought he might not show up to your wedding as he'd done at his first. 

"Javi, baby." You put all your weight onto one arm to push his hair out of his face with your other hand and soothingly stroke your fingers through the soft strands. "Is the sky blue?"

His eyebrows creased. "Yes?" 

"Is grass green?" 

"Yes?" 

"Are you the sexiest man alive?" 

He frowned. "Fucking Harrison Ford is this year’s sexiest man alive, and you know that." He was pouting, and it made you snort. 

When he saw the People Magazine while the two of you were at the grocery store proclaiming Harrison Ford as this year's sexiest man alive the previous month, Javi had grumbled, 'You gotta be fucking kidding me,' because he knew you thought the actor was attractive and had seen the majority of his filmography. Javi had a love/hate relationship with the guy since he did quite enjoy his movies but couldn't stand the fact that the other man was your celebrity crush. 

"Well, whoever decides the sexiest man alive at People Magazine is wrong since the correct answer to that question was yes—you, Javier Peña, are the sexiest man alive."

"Fucking Harrison Ford," he muttered. 

You huffed in exasperation, rolling your eyes. 

"Let's get back on topic. Does two plus two equal four?" 

"Yes," he answered.  

"Is Empire Strikes Back the best Star Wars movie?" 

"Yes—why are you asking these questions?" 

"Because they’re all facts," you said. "Like how I know for a fact you'll be there on our wedding day to say 'I do' and put a ring on my finger so I'll officially become Mrs. Javier Peña."

His dimple was showing he was smiling so big. "Yes, I fucking will." 

His arms were around you, and a surprised sound left you as he rolled you onto your back, your thighs cradling his hips and feeling his cock beginning to harden between your bodies.  

He lightly bit at your chin, his lips making a wet trail of kisses under your jaw that had tingles skittering down your spine, moaning when he got to the sensitive skin of your throat, your fingers tangling into his hair. 

"I'm gonna marry you.” His voice was muffled while he kissed and bit along the column of taut skin. "And there's a chance you could be pregnant with our baby when I do." 

He was making it hard to think while he sucked at your pulse. 

"When?" you gasped. 

"Hmmm?" he hummed. 

You swallowed hard, feeling your heart beating in your cunt. 

"When do you want to get married?" 

His head came up to look you in the eyes, low light from the fixture above the room’s door across the bedroom glowing behind the mess of brown hair on his head, giving some strands sticking out at odd angles a honeyed hue. His lips were red, cheeks pinked up, his gaze dark and hungry. 

"Whenever you want," he answered. "Next weekend, next month—if you're planning on inviting people out of state, I'm fine with waiting a few months to give them time to figure out their travel shit. It's all up to you." He pecked your lips. "Most of my family are back home, and then I'd want Steve's family there—that's it for me." 

He kissed you then and really kissed you. The kind of kiss that told you the conversation was over, and he wanted to shift his focus to the fact you were both naked in a bed, in a place where you could fuck with abandon and no interruptions.

Javi moved you further up the mattress and sheathed his hard dick back inside your sopping pussy, the slickness of his come allowing him to slip right in—his mouth was fused to yours while he slowly rocked, letting you feel every ridge and vein along his shaft pressing against your inner walls. 

He had you feeling incredibly full with how he was keeping most of himself buried inside your cunt, pushing in so deep you thought he had to be up in your guts. Your legs wrapped around his waist and locked at the ankles, his large palm grabbing your left hand from his hair to lace your fingers together, his lips leaving yours to kiss the diamond before pressing your hands into the bed beside your head, his mouth back on yours. 

It started soft and slow, neither of you rushing to come and simply enjoying being with the other. At some point, there was a shift, and the kisses became more heated until he was breaking away to get up on his knees, untangling your legs from him and moving them to one side, causing your hips to twist onto your side with his cock still inside you. He had one hand gripping your thigh, the other on the side of your ass, and he started moving at a hard, fast pace that had skin slapping against skin as his hips connected with your backside and the backs of your thighs. 

He made you come by getting his fingers into the tight space between your closed legs to play with your clit while he pounded into you, and before you even recovered, he had you up on your spread knees, your chest to the mattress as you caught your breath. Your fingers were clawing at the snow-white sheets and moaning loudly when his tongue licked against your overly sensitive bundle of nerves. 

Javier said he was going to fuck you for a couple of hours in this hotel room, and he did.

In the first hour, he had you on top of him, on your knees, your back, your stomach, your side, bent over the bed and on the edge of it. You lost track of how many times you came, and it was a mess between your legs with the two times Javi had finished inside you. 

There was, of course, a break for Javi to recover after he'd come, and so you both could drink some water from the plastic cups on a tray with the empty ice bucket. 

His cell phone started ringing about an hour and a half after you arrived. 

There was a thin sheen of sweat coating both of your naked bodies, and you were lying back with your head on a pillow—Javi's lips were wrapped around the swollen berry of your clit while two of his thick fingers were deep in your come-filled cunt, pressing into that spot that had your vision blurring, so close to climaxing you were right on the precipice. 

Your hands were in his hair, moaning loudly, and the sudden ringing had you jumping in your skin. 

"Ignore it," he said into your pussy.

He was back to sucking on your bundle of nerves, and you focused on the pleasure building in your tummy, winding tighter and tighter. The call went to voicemail, and the ringing stopped. Finally, you fell over the edge, coming with a gasp, your muscles clenching up tight, euphoria erupting out from your center. 

"Good girl," his muffled voice said, working you through your high. 

You were feeling amazing, your body completely relaxing, limbs trembling, practically melting into the bed, and having to fight off the exhaustion from so many orgasms that was threatening to make you fall asleep. 

Ringing started again, and it startled you. 

Javi sighed against your cunt, his mouth and fingers leaving you and the mattress jostling as he got up. 

"Who the fuck is calling?" His voice was a little hoarse. 

"My money is on either your dad or Steve," you slurred, sounding drunk. 

Your eyes were closed, but you could hear the rustle of him grabbing his jeans off the ground to get the cell phone off of his belt. 

"Goddammit," he muttered, and you heard the beep of him pressing a button. "What?" he answered. "Yeah, we're fine... She said yes... Thanks..." He was talking to Steve. You were sure of it with his annoyed, clipped answers. "We had time, so I brought her downtown... Yeah, we'll be back before then..." He loudly sighed. "With all the great shit that happened this morning, I was too busy enjoying time with my new fiancée to even think about calling anyone. Sorry... Okay, I gotta go... Bye." Another beep of him pressing the end call button and the phone dropping down to his jeans on the floor.

"Was he worried we hadn't gotten back?" you asked. 

"Yeah." 

"That's sweet." 

"It's annoying." 

The bed’s springs softly squeaked as he got onto it. 

You smiled. "I think it's cute that Steve gets on your nerves as if he was your sibling—you love him, you'd take a bullet for him, but just the sound of him breathing aggravates you; Steve's your adopted brother." 

His hand grabbed your ankle, rubbing his thumb over your skin. 

"Maybe he is." 

"He is. His kids call you tío (uncle), and you love them like they are your flesh and blood."

"I do." 

"Yes, you do." Your eyes blinked open, moving to sit up on your elbows to see him sitting on the bed by your legs, his gaze meeting yours. "There are a lot of people who love you, Javi, and I'm happy our kids will have so much family." 

He frowned, and you knew he was about to ask about your own, who'll be up in arms when they discover you’re engaged to him. 

"I don't want to talk about it," you said before he could open his mouth. "This is a happy, horny time, and we're not gonna ruin the mood with my baggage—I gotta go to the bathroom." You started getting up, and he stopped you with his hand on your leg, your eyes meeting his. 

"Mi familia es tu familia y te aman sin condiciones (My family is your family and they love you no matter what)—te amamos sin condiciones (we love you no matter what). Tu familia biológica no saben lo que se están perdiendo (Your biological family have no idea what they’re missing). Eres inteligente, hermosa, compasiva, y cómica (You’re smart, beautiful, compassionate, and funny)—eres increíble y si ellos no pueden ver eso, no los necesitas (you are incredible and if they can’t see that, you don’t need them).”  

Emotion had your eyes burning. "Thank you," you said, leaning forward to touch his forearm. "I know you all love me, and I love you—it'll be nice when I can change my last name."

A little smile pulled up on his lips. "I can't wait to give you my last name—now, go pee.” He patted your leg. “We only have half an hour left, and I don't wanna waste a single minute." 

"You know, you get really bossy when you're horny." You got off the bed on shaky legs, something you were used to, padding across the floor. 

"Would you rather me be grumpy?" he called after you, making you laugh.

Stopping at the bathroom doorway near the room's door, your hand on the mahogany-colored wood, you looked over at him. "Grumpy-horny Javi is very hot, and I can expect to be railed senseless—like last night when you were mad about the squeaky bed and worked out your frustration by putting me face down, ass up, and fucking me hard. With bossy-horny Javi, I'm in for an insane amount of orgasms because you get all pleasure dommy and make it your life's purpose to make me come so many times, I look like a newborn giraffe when I try to walk afterward." 

A short huff of air left his nose, and he looked amused. 

"Is there a regular-horny Javi?" he asked.

"Yes.” You nodded. “Regular-horny Javi is usually stuck to me like glue and handsy before we get naked. The sex is very intimate and involves a lot of kissing, and we're so comfortable we sometimes chat and laugh in the middle of it." 

He was giving you a fond smile. "That one's your favorite," he said. 

You grinned. "Of course, and it's the horny Javi I get the majority of the time, so I am living the fucking dream." 

"It's my favorite, too."

"Like, don't get me wrong, the last hour or so has been spectacular and some of your best work, but all the position changes had me feeling like we were filming a porno." 

Something happened because he was suddenly giving you a blank stare, and it had your eyebrows cinching together. After a few seconds of silence, you spoke. "Javi?" 

Saying his name had him coming back to himself with a slight shake of his head. 

He said something so quietly you couldn't hear it from how far away you were. 

"What?" you asked. 

His eyes were on yours, and they'd gone darker. 

"I'm buying a camcorder." 

"Oh my god, Javier," you said in exasperation. "You're not buying a camcorder for the sole purpose of us making a dirty movie." 

He was frowning. "I'd use it for other stuff—like our wedding and the birth of our kid." 

"You're absolutely not recording me giving birth." 

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. "No birthing video, got it. I still wanna record our wedding and some of the party. I'm sure there's a lot of other shit we'd wanna film." 

"Uh-huh." You crossed your arms. "We've been together awhile, and you're just now deciding you should get a camcorder?"

"Yeah, seems like a great investment." He shrugged. 

"Seems like a horny investment—you're ridiculous. Buy your camcorder, Mr. Amateur Porn Star." You walked into the bathroom and flicked on the light. 

"Our homemade porno would be better than anything professionally made!" he shouted from the other room.

Javier was getting old, and he fucking hated it. 

When the idea came to him to stop at the hotel, he thought two hours was more than enough time—he could fuck her over and over and over again to work it out of his system so he wouldn't be on edge the rest of the trip. 

What he didn't account for, in his grand horny scheme, was his goddamn refractory period. It pissed him off that he wasn't ready to go again after five, ten minutes like it'd been in his twenties. No, on a good day, he was looking at fifteen, and most of the time, it was at least twenty. So, forty minutes out of their two stolen hours they had alone together, his dick didn't work.

It made him so fucking mad.

The time wasn't wasted—the first twenty minutes, he got to enjoy some post-sex cuddling, and they planned their wedding. The second time, the moment he could function, he was using his mouth and fingers to make her feel really fucking good.  

This has never been an issue since they haven’t had a time constraint like this before. The few Saturdays where they spent the majority of the day tangled in their bed's sheets, it wasn't a big deal for them to take a fifteen to twenty-minute breather between rounds. 

But in these two uninterrupted hours after the love of his life agreed to marry him and told him she was ready for them to start their family, revealing she was already off of her birth control, every minute counted; there was something in the back of his mind, an urge, that he needed to bury himself inside her and fuck his come as deep as possible—it was insatiable. He'd already finished twice, and it wasn't enough, and because he had to wait twenty fucking minutes to get hard again, there was only enough time for him to come once more. 

Which was where they were now, with Javier kneeling on the bed while she straddled his hips, her arm around his neck, the other on the bed behind her for balance, his hands gripping her ass and helping her work herself up and down his cock. 

His forehead was wet with sweat, feeling a drop slide down the side of his face, the rest of his body glistening. Exertion had grunts pushing from his throat, his mouth on hers smothering her moans. 

He had already got one last orgasm out of her and was heading toward his own end. Her pussy was drooling all over his dick with the mixture of their come and her arousal, dripping down to coat his balls and fall onto the sheets—they were making a mess, and he planned to leave the housekeepers a big tip for all the trouble. 

The familiar pressure was coiling deep in his gut, electricity igniting in his core, a telltale sign he was close. He broke the kiss and got both of her arms around his neck, making her squeak in surprise when he practically tackled her back onto the mattress, their bodies bouncing a little for a few seconds. 

His hips were moving fast, hearing the wet smack of his body colliding with hers and his cock working in and out of her drenched cunt. 

His teeth found her chin with a small amount of pressure while his eyes were closed, holding himself up with his arms bracketing her ears. 

"Come for me, Javi," she breathlessly said, grabbing onto his ass, her fingers digging into the flexed muscles. "Come for me, baby." His face went into the crook of her neck, panting hot breaths against her skin. "You've fucked me so good today, Javi. I need you to come—fuck a baby into me." 

Pleasure sliced through him like a burning knife, and he whined, his strokes speeding up. 

"Anything," he panted. "I'll give you anything you want—you can have anything. I'm yours—" he was fuck drunk and rambling. "—I'm all yours, and I'll give you a baby—I'll get you pregnant. We'll have our baby. Fuck," he groaned. 

All his nerves lit up, energy thrumming under his skin and sparking through his body. The knot in his belly was tightening, his rhythm becoming uneven until he was at the point of no return—he was coming, and nothing could stop him. 

He pushed forward hard, sinking his dick inside her to the root as it jerked, and pleasure overtook him, raggedly moaning that dulled when he bit into her shoulder—his come gushed into her depths, his hips rolling to fuck it deeper before the oversensitivity made him hiss. 

Something in the recesses of his brain was purring happily—satiated. 

His body was blissfully relaxed, and he slumped onto the woman under him, feeling completely wrung out and thinking he might pass out. 

"'m sorry," he mumbled into her neck. "Is this okay?" 

Her fingers slid into his hair, and tingles shivered down his spine. 

"It's fine, baby," she whispered. "But don't pass out—we have to leave." 

The sound he made was a mix of a groan and whine. He was so comfortable he didn't want to move. 

How mad would Steve and Connie be if they didn't go on the beach trip and stayed here for a few more hours?

"No," she said. "We're not ditching your friends." Of course, she knew what he was thinking. 

"I don't wanna move." He actually whined this time. 

"You knew we had two hours here, and that's it. We need to take a quick shower so it's not obvious we've been fucking, and then we gotta get back to Steve and Connie's because the kids are excited to go to the beach with you." 

He nuzzled closer into her throat. 

"'m comfy." 

She pinched his asscheek hard, and he twitched. 

"We're not disappointing the children, Javier. Now, get up." She smacked his ass. 

"You're mean,” he grumbled. 

"I'm not mean. I'm polite to our hosts. You're being a big whiny baby." 

"Que mala que eres con migo (You're so mean to me)." 

"Yo tampoco soy mala en español (I'm not mean in Spanish either)." 

He sighed. "Cinco minutos, por favor, mi amor (Five minutes, please, my love)." 

"Bueno, cinco minutos por que eres lindo (Okay, you can have five minutes because you're cute)." The fingers on one of her hands scratched at his scalp, and her other hand rubbed over his back, a content sigh leaving him as he smiled. 

She was so soft and warm beneath him, her scent filling his nose and soothing him. 

Up until he met her, home was the ranch he grew up on—no matter where in the world he lived, it was always that house where his parents were, and he was welcome and loved.

Home was no longer a place. 

Home was the woman he loved's arms wrapped around him; It was her grinning at him with that gorgeous smile; It was her perfect lips pressed to his; It was her delicate hand held in his larger palm; It was her beautiful eyes staring at him with all the love in the world. 

Home was his Cielito, his little heaven. 

And as long as he was with her, he was home. 

His mind had drifted, and quickly, his consciousness went with it, too. 

A loud snore erupted against your neck, the sudden noise causing you to jolt. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you whispered. 

You explicitly told him not to pass out, you had even asked him after going to the bathroom if he should really go again because you had a feeling it’d put him to sleep, and he reassured you he’d be perfectly fine—the dirty fucking liar. 

“Javi?” you said softly, lightly patting his back. “Wake up, babe. We have to get going, honey.” 

His body tensed, and he sucked in a breath as he awoke immediately, his head raising to look at you with bleary eyes. 

“Fuck.” His voice was hoarse. “Did I fall asleep?”

“Sure did, Sleeping Beauty.” You rubbed along his spine. “We gotta get up and leave. You can take a nap at the beach.”

His pouty lips were dipped low in a frown. 

“With you…?”

You smiled, pushing some hair away from his face. "Is this one of those days where you can't go more than a few seconds without touching me?"

Those big brown eyes of his got bigger as he nodded. 

In general, Javi was constantly touching you, but there were some days when he was practically stuck to you like a handsy octopus and went with you everywhere—except the bathroom, the one place you firmly told him, no, he couldn't come with you and hang out while you did your business. 

"My cute, needy fiancé." You cupped his cheek. "I'll stay close if you need me to."

His head turned to kiss your palm. "I need you to." 

"Okay, now let's get up." 

A long, sad sigh exhaled from his lungs. "Fine," he said, leaning forward to peck you on the lips. 

He moved then, his eyes closing for a moment as he pulled his soft length out of you, his hands sinking into the mattress when he pushed himself back and up with a grunt to kneel between your legs. 

His gaze was stuck at the apex of your thighs, the lips of your sex puffy, and your hole starting to drip his come—two of his fingers scooped up what had dribbled out and pushed it back in, your mouth falling open.

His dark eyes locked on yours, his voice a deep, rough rasp when he spoke. "We don't want to waste any." He laid his other hand onto your lower abdomen, his digits spread wide to take up ample real estate over your womb. "We need to keep you full. Can you be my good girl and keep me inside?" 

Pleasure zipped along your spine, your bottom lip pulling between your teeth as you nodded. 

"Yes," you answered, putting a hand over his on your skin. 

He picked up your smaller palm, his gaze dropping to the ring that made him smile, the pad of his thumb mapping the mountain range of diamonds before he lifted it to his lips in a kiss. 

"Good," he said, setting your hand down and removing the fingers of his other from inside your pussy. You watched as he sucked the come-soaked digits into his mouth with a dirty groan at the taste. They came out licked clean from between his lips. "We taste so fucking good together," he told you, with his attention on you. "Let's shower, mi amor (my love). Then we can go and figure out what the fuck we're gonna tell Steve and Connie on the way." 

"Are you saying they wouldn't appreciate us spending a dumb amount of money to fuck for a couple of hours instead of secretly getting busy under their roof?" 

"They'll be happy we did it outside of their house, but it'd piss Steve off that we made them worry and didn't call to tell them we had other plans because we were too busy fucking." 

You blew air out of the side of your mouth. "We just can't win with that guy." 

"I told you he's fucking annoying." 

"Eh—" You shrugged. "—he's just your brother from another mother, and you both find dumb shit to get annoyed about with each other. I wish I only got annoyed about dumb shit with my little brother, but he's actually an entitled dick because my parents gave him anything and everything he's ever wanted and kiss the ground he walks upon."

He was frowning now. 

"Are you going to tell them?" he asked softly.

"About the engagement? Yeah, the next time my mom calls to make sure I'm not bringing any more shame on our family name—she's gonna be pissed, and I can feel it in my bones that it will cause me to go no contact with her and the rest of them." 

His hand rubbed over your thigh. "I'm sorry." The remorse was heavy in his tone. 

"Meh." You waved away his apology. "Nothing to be sorry about. I chose you, and I'd choose you again without hesitation. I couldn't care less if us getting married upsets them. We're happy, and that's all that matters." 

"We are happy. I just feel like shit, I'm the reason your relationship with your family is so fucking strained."

"Javi, babe, the relationship has been strained long before we got together. You just gave me a reason to stick up for myself and not put up with their shit. Don't feel bad. You told me today your family is my family, and all of you is all I need." 

"Promise?" he whispered. 

You held out your pinky. "I pinky promise." 

That made him smile, looping his around yours to make the sacred vow that he and his family were really all you needed—Javi leaning down, holding himself up with a hand on the bed beside you as he gave you a tender kiss.

Javier felt fucking amazing and exhausted. 

Did he overdo it? Probably. His back was already a little achier than usual, and he imagined it'd feel even worse the next day. The fantastic sex was worth the backache and pain in his knees, especially with how his future wife had the post-good sex glow about her that made his chest puff out a little. 

She had a point that a shower was needed before they left the hotel room so they didn't reek of sex, which they quickly took after getting up. 

One twenty-dollar bill was put on top of the hotel notepad sitting on the desk that Javier had scribbled, 'Thank you,' as they left. The bedding had been stripped from the bed and put in one pile, while their used towels were in another. 

The same person who checked them in, checked them out, and, from the look on her face, didn’t buy their lie that they were leaving so early due to a family emergency—it was probably Cielito trying to sell it by saying they had to rush to the hospital because his nephew had been viciously attacked by a… duck.

They were driving on the freeway, her hand in his, resting on her legging-covered thigh. 

"A duck?" he asked. They'd been silent up until now, but he needed to know where that came from. "We're in Florida where there are actual dangerous wild animals like fucking alligators and sharks—hell, a dog woulda made sense, and you said my fake nephew was attacked by a duck?" 

"Oh my god, Javier," she groaned, covering her eyes with her spare hand. "I know it was stupid, but I was super uncomfortable with the looks the employees were giving me." 

He frowned. "What looks?" He glanced over at her, and her hand lowered to meet his eyes. 

"The extremely judgey, disgusted looks because they thought I was a working girl—the mistaken identity was fine; that didn't bother me. It was how they looked at me like I was less of a person than them." She was frowning. "It just made me feel so bad for actual working girls who have to deal with that bullshit on the daily." 

"Fuck." He focused back on the road. "I'm sorry you went through that, and I shouldn't have put you in that spot." He sighed, untangling their hands to push his shower-damp hair back with his hand. "I've been so caught up in you wearing the ring and assuming other people would notice it, too, that it didn't even cross my mind how us only spending a couple of hours at a hotel would look."

She sounded amused when she spoke. "It's adorable that you assume everyone knows we're engaged and figured the hotel employees thought we were just an incredibly horny couple instead of a lady of the night with her John." 

If people weren't tipped off she was his fiancée with the ring on her finger, then he was going to start telling every person they came in contact with, so there wasn’t any more confusion in the future—giddiness bubbled up inside him over the thought of eventually getting to introduce her as his wife. 

If he’d been wearing a ring, she wouldn’t have been put in that situation; it would’ve been clear as day they were married…

“Marry me,” he said, quickly looking over at her. 

She giggled. “I’ve already agreed to marry you.”

“No—“ He shook his head. “—I know I said I was fine waiting a few months for our wedding, but I fucking can’t—I wanna marry you as soon as possible." His attention went forward once more, nerves fluttering in his gut. 

She reached to grab his hand and held it in both of hers. 

"You know there are a lot of men who dread their wedding day. They're the guys who call their wives 'balls and chains,' like being married is comparable to being in jail and an all-around nuisance even though they're the ones who proposed in the first place. The fact you're impatient to marry me makes me very happy—you're excited about our wedding day and don't see marriage as you losing your freedom; you see it as a guarantee you'll spend the rest of your life with the person you love." 

He smiled. "Yeah," he said. "That's right." 

"Regarding marrying me as soon as possible—my heart's set on the wedding at the tree we discussed. We can talk to your dad when we get home and see if he wants to get ordained. If he doesn't, then we'll go to the courthouse, make it official, and we can throw a party later. If your dad wants to officiate, I say we give it a month to get everything worked out with him and at the ranch." 

A month at most. He could wait a month, right?

"Okay," he said, glancing toward her. "I'm fine with that." 

She grinned. "Great. So, what's our story about where we've been since this morning?" 

He looked at the road. "It won't be that we were viciously attacked by a duck..."

“Oh my god!”

It took them a bit to come up with something pretty believable—after spending a considerable amount of time at the beach, Javier gave her a tour of the area and took her exploring by foot around downtown. It was plausible. 

They'd made sure they looked put together before leaving the hotel so it didn't raise any suspicions when they returned to their friends. 

Arriving at the Murphy's, happy squeals could be heard as Javier unlocked the front door, and for a split second, he imagined a future where it wasn't his niece and nephews who were excited he was home, but his own children; the thought of his kids being unable to control their volume because they were just so happy to see him had warmth spreading through his body to the tips of his fingers to his toes. 

The moment he stepped foot into the house, a three-year-old was screaming excitedly, "Tío!" and little arms hugged his legs as best they could. 

Javier smiled, bending with a groan, saying, "Mi principito (My little prince)." He picked up the child, holding him in his arm while he toed off his black leather Chelsea boots in front of a shoe rack filled to the brim with children’s and adult shoes, Cielito following him inside and shutting the door. 

"Are we going to the beach, tío?" Stevie asked, looking up at him. 

"Yeah, bud—” He tickled the child’s belly, making him laugh and squirm. “—in a little bit." 

He heard the pattering of feet before he saw the oldest of the kids running into the room they were in. 

"You're back!" Olivia said with a big smile. "We can finally go to the beach!" 

Steve had walked in. 

"Sorry, we got back so late, mi tesorito (my little treasure)." Javier apologized to the young girl. 

"And where were you?" Steve asked. 

His friend’s eyes were narrowed in suspicion when their gazes met. Javier moved Stevie into his other arm so he could pull Cielito into his side, keeping his hand on her hip.

"The beach, then I gave my fiancée a tour of the city, and we walked around everywhere."  

Steve's eyes narrowed further. "Bullsh—crap." He crossed his arms over his chest. "Where were you really?" 

Javier's jaw clenched. "I just told you, and I'm not gonna repeat myself, so drop it."

"Olivia, baby girl, take your brother to the family room. I need to have an adult ears-only conversation with your tío Javi." 

The nine-year-old looked confused but came forward and took the younger child from him. 

"Come on, Stevie," she said, heading out of the room. "We'll hang out with tío more later. Let's go watch cartoons." 

Their father looked over his shoulder, watching them depart, and once they were out of earshot, he was rounding on Javier.

"You asshole," he harshly whispered. "Walking around downtown, my ass." He stepped forward and tugged on Javier's shirt collar. "These hickies tell me you were doing a hell of a lot more than walking." Shit, Javier batted away his hand, glaring at the blonde man. "What if you'd gotten caught, where? In the back of that rental? You just expected I'd bail you out of jail? Were you even thinking with your brain? Or just with your dick?" 

Anger was sizzling in his gut, along with shame, because they had almost gotten caught, and there was a chance Steve would’ve had to bail them out. 

"I told you to drop it.” The sentence was gritted through his teeth as he seethed, his wif-fiancée putting a comforting hand on his back and rubbing circles.  

"I'm not gonna drop it, 'cause what would I have told the kids if you'd gotten caught?" he asked, crossing his arms back over his chest. 

That was a low blow, and it pissed him off even more. 

"Well, we didn't get fucking caught, and for your information—" He jabbed his finger into the center of Steve's chest. "—I was thinking with my brain—I've been holed up in a hotel for the last two hours with my fiancée, you fucking prick."

A humorless huff left his friend, his eyes wide in disbelief. "You horny fucker—you're joking." 

Javier's hand went to his waist, lifting his eyebrow. "You wanna see the receipt? You’d think we were at the fucking, uh, Ritz or whatever the fuck luxury hotel with how much they charged for one night when this place didn’t even have fucking room service." 

The other man chuckled, shaking his head. He met his gaze. "You know what? I forgive you for making us worry." He clapped a hand on Javier's shoulder, giving him a beaming smile. "Congratulations, Javi. I’m happy for you guys and get it. You were excited and wanted to be alone with the woman you’re marrying. I don't blame you for spending hours in a hotel room.” His smile shifted to something smarmy. “I sure as hell don't want you doing that shit here, and it's not like you can with how goddamn squeaky the guest bed is." 

Javier wanted to wipe the smug smile off his old partner’s face.  

"Hey, Steve?" Cielito cut in. 

His friend looked at her. "Yeah?" 

"Have you seen the first Jurassic Park movie?" 

The blonde man's eyebrows pulled together. "I have." He nodded. "A few times." 

She smiled. "Then you know, life finds a way." 

God, he loved her, and he loved that she enjoyed messing with his best friend as much as he did—Javier snorted and kissed the side of her head. 

Steve looked confused until it dawned on him what she meant. 

"No," he whispered in denial. 

"Yes," Javier replied, smirking, the other man facing him. 

"But the bed..." 

It was Javier’s turn to clap a hand onto his friend’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Steve… But the fact you think a bed is the only place to fuck, tells me you’re a really boring and bad lay—need me to give you some pointers?”

“I quite enjoyed what we did on the chair,” Cielito said. “And my god, Javi is always amazing, but he brought his A-game on the floor. You put some blankets and pillows on the stone tiles, and they’re not too bad to be fucked on.”

Steve’s face had slowly gotten redder and redder as they spoke, and Javier was worried the man’s head would explode, especially with how he couldn’t say anything, his blue eyes big and mouth opening and closing like a fish in a bowl. 

“What we’re saying, man,” Javier said, patting the blonde man’s shoulder. “Is when you’re horny enough, you’ll find a way.” He looked over at his fiancée, and her expression showed she was just as delighted as he felt. “From the sound of it, the guest bathroom hasn’t seen any action.”

Her eyes were on his. “A travesty—it’s a law that every room in the house has to be christened. Don’t worry, Steve—“ Her attention moved to the man in front of them, reaching to pat his arm. “—we know a bathroom is too exotic of a locale for you, so we’ll take one for the team and break it in; there’s no need to thank us.”

His former partner finally found his voice. 

"Connie!" Steve yelled, his upper body turning, along with his head, to look behind him. 

"Yeah?!" she answered from the kitchen. 

"Everything in the guest room has to go! It all needs to be burned, and the guest bathroom is getting that remodel you wanted!”

She walked out of the kitchen with a small dish towel in her hands. 

“You said we couldn’t afford to remodel the guest bath...”

“Well, I’m gonna figure out where we can add it into our budget ‘cause it’s happening, along with all new furniture in that room and linen. We also gotta have the floors sanitized.”

She looked past her husband at the two of them. 

“He found out y’all messed around in there?”

“Yes,” they answered in unison. 

She nodded in understanding and straightened. 

“You’re so right, baby,” she said, agreeing too easily. “We have to remodel that entire back bedroom and bathroom now. It’s the only choice we have.”

“I’m happy you agree,” her husband said seriously. “We’ll toss all the bedding when they leave.”

“Except for the throw pillows. I really like those pillows and can have them professionally cleaned.”

“Of course, honey.”

Cielito leaned into him and whispered in his ear while his friends continued speaking, “Did we just inadvertently help Connie bamboozle Steve into doing a house project she’s been wanting done?”

“I think so,” he said just as quietly. “I’m happy to help after all she’s done for us.”

“Agreed. We’ll have to ask if she needs us to fuck anywhere else in or outside the house.”

“Or her van if she wanted a new one.”

“True. She just found a cheat code to get stuff she wants.”

“Will we be like this when we’re married?”

“Javi, babe, you give me anything I want if I ask—I don’t need a cheat code. It’s the same for you with me. If either of us wants anything, the other will do whatever they can to make it happen. Also, we’re equals in our relationship, whereas Steve thinks he’s the man of the house and in charge of everything, but it’s really Connie who runs the show and knows how to play him, like with this guest bedroom remodel. She’s crafty, and I highly respect her. So, no, we won’t be like this because I wouldn’t have or want to manipulate you to do my bidding.” 

“Marry me.”

She giggled. 

“I’m already marrying you, you goober.” She playfully slapped his arm, and he grabbed her hand, bringing it up to kiss her knuckles as he stared into her eyes. 

“Marry me again.”

“Then yes, I’ll double marry you.”

He smiled. “Good. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

And with how she was looking at him, he knew she meant every word, and it made him feel so happy there was a chance he’d float away. 

This was real love. 

This was the kind of love that wraps around you tight and never lets go. 

The kind of love that can handle anything life throws at it since they’re stronger together. 

The kind of love that lasts forever, even after their souls leave this earth. Their story will be remembered for eternity by the stars up above. 

This was real love. 

It was true love, and it was their love. 

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Learning to Live Part 28

summary: It’s a beautiful day in Miami, and you’re spending it with Javier and the Murphys at the beach, where you discover there’s a limit to Steve’s annoying behavior your fiancé can handle before he loses his cool. That evening, you, Javier, Steve, and Connie go out for drinks and find out you really will fight anyone who disrespects your future husband, leading to him having to calm you down. 

With his dick.

In the bar bathroom. 

rating: E (18+!! No y/n, alternating POV, age gap (about ten years), explicit smut, semi-public sex, unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), creampie, kinda rough sex (he’s gotta fuck the anger out of you), dirty talk, breeding kink, spanking, spit as lube, Javier being bossy, mention of lactation/pregnancy kink, mention of panty sniffing, slice of life beach day, Javier being cute with the kids, physical altercation (Javi and Steve get into a tussle), decorating for Christmas, insecurities, feelings, yelling, insults, Angry Javier Peña, Angry Reader, almost bar fight (you get angry enough to throw hands), Javier having to physically remove you from the situation, Javier saying romantic things in Spanish)

pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader

word count: 21.5k+

a/n: I’m sorry about how long this took! The holidays threw off my groove, along with all the shit I’m dealing with in real life. As always, thank you to @juletheghoul for ensuring my Spanish made sense. And thank you to @senorabond for betaing!

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The sun was high in the clear, blue sky, its rays beaming down and heating the salty ocean air, while you stood on the shore, your feet atop the sturdy wet sand; you were wholly mesmerized as you stared down, watching the water as it lapped against your ankles before it was pulled back out to the Atlantic like a yo-yo on a string. 

There was a beach you'd go to growing up where even on the hottest day of the year, the ocean was too cold to swim in—you'd lie in the sun, play in the sand, fly kites, build bonfires, collect sand dollars and seashells, and when you got too warm, you'd cool off by dipping your toes in the chilled water that washed ashore. 

It was December, the month before the coldest of the year here in Miami, and you were in your bathing suit, basking in the sun's hot rays and the salt water soaking your feet that was at a temperature more than comfortable enough to swim in. 

The waves crashing was the loudest sound, followed by children's laughter and birds screeching in the distance, but splashing is what caught your attention, lifting your head and your hand shielding your eyes from the brightness as you took in what was before you. Out in the waist-deep water, a handsome man's head popped up above the surface as he threw it back, seeing his profile while he rose to stand, sliding his hands into his hair, the sun hitting the drops rolling down his bare upper body to make him glitter in the light. 

There was the beautiful curve of his nose and plush lips, the softness of his belly, and the prominent muscle tone in his arms, watching as he wiped his face with one large palm. 

He was gorgeous and had your heart picking up in speed and butterflies fluttering around in your stomach; then he was facing you, his chocolate-colored eyes meeting yours, flashing you a panty-dropping smile that had you forgetting how to breathe as he started walking—no, strutting—your way, with the confidence of James Bond on a mission.

There was a chance Javier Peña was going to be the death of you by simply being too damn pretty. 

More of his body was revealed as the ocean got shallower, allowing you to see the salmon-colored short swim trunks he wore that didn't even make it halfway down his thighs. The moment he was within reach of you, his long arms were wrapping around to pull you flush against his wet body, not even caring because his lips sought out yours, tasting of salt and coffee. 

The kissing stopped, and his nose nudged yours. 

"Come swim with me," he said in a low rasp. 

"Okay," you whispered and understood why sailors were so afraid of sirens; Javi could ask you to do anything at this moment with his smoky-sweet words, and you would—like joining him in the ocean when you planned on sunbathing. 

He took your hand and led you into the warm water, and once it was to your chest, he turned your way, looping your arms around his neck and grabbing onto the globes of your ass to lift you, your legs immediately going around his waist like he wanted. 

"This isn't swimming," you said, smiling. 

"It's better than swimming," he replied, nuzzling his face into your neck and kissing up the column of your throat to your jaw. 

Tiny waves were hitting against his back, the bigger ones a distance away. 

"And you better keep things PG—there are children on the shore who can see us." 

The three kids in question belonged to Steve and Connie Murphy. 

You were at the same little stretch of beach Javi had taken you to earlier that morning to propose, and you were both caught in a compromising situation by a lifeguard. It was away from the busier, touristy areas, so you and his friend's family were the only people there.  

His head came up while his hands tightened on your backside, the front of his swim shorts grinding into you. 

"They can't see shit under the water," he said, looking you in the eyes. "We're too far away." 

“I guess we are.” Your lips met his, kissing him hard and welcoming his tongue that licked into your mouth. 

Both of you were still riding the high of being newly engaged, even with your beautiful ring staying behind at Steve and Connie’s to keep it safe. And that wasn’t the only exciting thing to happen that day—you’d finally given the go-ahead to start trying for a baby, and your fiancé was beyond ecstatic and utterly insatiable, which you were loving and not even a little surprised he was getting handsy. 

As if on cue, there was a loud shout of "Tío (Uncle)!" followed by splashing. Turning your head, you saw the Murphys’ nine-year-old, Olivia, paddling toward you on a bright yellow boogie board. Her parents were at the shore with her two toddler brothers, the tiny Murphys looking adorable in their swim trunks, shirts, and little floppy hats as they played in the water. 

You untangled yourself from Javi, your feet sinking into the sand under you. He smiled, looking past you at the child heading your way in her black wet suit.

"Tesorito (Little treasure)!" he called. "¿Vas a ir a las olas (Are you going to the waves)?"

"Si (Yes)! Dame un empujon (Give me a push)." 

The small waves were crashing not too far from you, and as soon as she was close, Javi was giving her a shove toward her destination. He stood beside you with his arm over your shoulders, both watching the young girl as she easily caught a wave with her belly on the board, riding it all the way ashore. 

"She's pretty good at that," you commented. 

"You wanna try it out?" he asked, kissing your hair. 

Olivia was running down the beach, heading to where the rest of her family was to get back into the ocean. 

"I'm good. I just wanna enjoy the water." You moved to have your body floating on the water’s surface, closing your eyes. 

"I'm gonna do some laps." 

"How do you have the energy to do laps?"

"Could be how great my day's been." He kissed your cheek, and it made you smile. "We're engaged, getting married soon, and hopefully starting our family. Plus, I got a couple of hours alone with you to fool around. It's been a great fucking day." 

"My money's on that large black coffee you chugged when we stopped at McDonald's to get Olivia and Stevie apology Happy Meals for getting back to the house so late." 

He sighed, and you just knew he was pouting. "Maybe it's the coffee, but I like my reasons more..." 

"I like your reasons more, too. Go swim your laps. I'll stay right here." The little swells had your body rocking softly. 

He kissed your cheek again. "Okay."

Splashing sounded, telling you he’d started swimming; you also heard Olivia kicking her feet nearby to paddle back out to the waves. 

"You're really good at shredding those waves, kiddo,” you said.

"Thanks!" she replied. "It's fun!"

"It looks fun." 

She was close to you now. 

"You wanna try it?" 

Your feet touched the sand as you stood up to look at her with a smile. 

"I'd rather watch you."

"Okay!"

She continued her journey toward the crashing waves, seeing her feet behind her disturbing the water as she kicked them for momentum. Your hand was shielding your eyes again, finding it interesting how the girl took a minute to decide on the wave she wanted before paddling hard to catch it. 

It seemed quieter, and you realized you could no longer hear Javi swimming, turning your head from side to side and not spotting him, looking over your shoulder to see if he'd gone to shore and not finding him there either. 

You'd be lying if you said you weren't worried, but right away, your mind was thinking the worst, like he got swept out to sea or something got him... That had you starting to freak out, the Jaws theme playing in your head not helping.  

Something under the water grabbed onto your hips from behind, and you screamed, the following bite to your ass causing you to scream louder—your heart was pounding in your chest, adrenaline making you turn in place and push the man away by his broad shoulders. 

Javi chose to stand then, rivulets of water dripping down his face and off his arms as he laughed; his grinning smile was so big it made his dimple appear, his eyes crinkling at the edges in pure glee, his hand flat against his chest. 

His merriment had you scowling. 

"It's not funny!" you exclaimed, lightly shoving his shoulder. "You scared the shit out of me!" 

He wiped the wetness from his face as he calmed down. 

"I'm sorry, Cielito." He was still smiling, his hands gripping your waist to step into your space so your bodies touched. "I didn't mean to scare the shit out of you." His head dipped to kiss over your thudding pulse point, shivering when his lips trailed up to your ear, feeling his hot breath tickling your skin as he spoke softly. "How can I make it up to you?" 

"Are you seriously seducing me to get out of me being mad at you?" 

"Is it working?" He nipped at your earlobe. 

“Of course, it’s working, and you’re rude for exploiting my weaknesses." 

He huffed in amusement and straightened to meet your gaze, his large hands coming up to cup your face. 

"I'm sorry for scaring you, mi amor (my love)." His thumbs stroked over your cheeks. "I was just having fun." 

You smiled, touching his hands. “You’ve got my fucking number and know all the ways to get me to stop being mad at you—I’m fucked. Apology accepted ‘cause you’re so damn cute.”

He leaned in to kiss you sweetly. 

Within a minute, he had your legs wrapped around his hips again while you made out in the warm water. At some point, you found yourself clinging to him from behind as he swam you around and watched Olivia bodyboard. 

When you finally went to lie in the sun on the beach, Javi stayed behind to play with Steve, Olivia, and Stevie. 

Connie was sitting in a chair under a large umbrella with their one-year-old, Nate. There were two more seats on either side of her, along with towels on the sand, a gray cooler, and a wagon they used to haul it and the rest of their stuff. You got into a tote bag that had yours and Javi's things to grab your sunglasses and sat down next to the other woman in a chair outside of the umbrella's shadow for the sunlight to dry you off. 

"I've never seen him this happy," Connie said. Nate was in her arms, drinking a bottle filled with water. 

"Seen who happy?" you asked, looking at her through your dark lenses. 

Connie's sunglasses were resting atop her head, and she was smiling at you. "Javi," she answered. "I've known him for a long time, and he's never been this happy.” Her face shifted to something thoughtful. “Even when he came to stay with us here, he'd try to hide it, but you could see the sadness in his eyes. This time, though?” She smiled once more. “All I see is happiness and excitement when I look at him." She reached over to put a hand on your arm. "Thank you for making our friend happy and helping me get that guest bedroom remodel." 

When Steve found out Javi and you had fucked in their guest bedroom, he freaked out and decided that room and the bathroom attached to it needed to be completely redone, including new furniture and bedding, after you left. This was a project Connie had wanted done for quite some time, but her husband always said they couldn’t afford it. 

Her gratitude for the remodel made you laugh, and you patted her hand on your arm. "You're welcome," you told her. "If there's anything else you want done around the house, Javi and I are more than happy to offer our services." 

"I'm sure you are," she teased. A wistful sigh came from her. "I remember what it was like when Steve and I first got together—we couldn't keep our hands off each other. We were like that up until we moved to Colombia, and he got real busy with work. Then we had Olivia, and I know you guys are excited about having your own babies, but sweetie, between working full time, taking care of my kids, and keeping the house from being a complete disaster, there's hardly any time for us to be alone. We are so busy, I haven't even had a chance to decorate for Christmas, let alone think about getting properly laid."

A big frown was on your face, feeling bad for Connie and worrying your relationship might meet the same fate. 

You took her hand in both of yours. "Here's the plan," you said. "When we get back to the house, we're decorating." She started to say something, but you cut her off. "—we'd love to help, Connie, and with two extra adults, there are enough people to wrangle the children while we get it done. Then, it might be last minute, but we'll need to find a babysitter that I will pay whatever amount they ask, so the four of us can go out to a bar, have some drinks, and hopefully get you properly laid."

There was a little smile on her lips. "That's sweet of you, but I can't ask you to do any of that."

"And you're not asking me; I'm insisting, and Javi will insist, too. We're gonna help you out. It's the least we can do." 

She seemed to be weighing it in her mind. "You're sure?" she asked. 

"Oh, yeah," you answered immediately. "Us women gotta stick together, and it's my duty as your friend to help you get dicked down."

She snorted. "I think we're gonna be best friends." 

You smiled. "I'd like that." 

"I'd like that, too." 

After the conversation ended, you returned to relaxing in the sun. There was a thin layer of sunscreen on your skin, Javi was more than happy to help you put on when you first got there, having done the same for him.

Out in the sparkling ocean, Steve was playing with his son, and Javi was crouched down under the water with Olivia standing on his shoulders and abruptly rose to launch the girl into the air, hearing her laughing and the loud splash when she cannon-balled into the saltwater. 

In your mind, you imagined Javi with little kids who looked so much like him that he'd splash and play in the water with, making your heart squeeze. 

It wasn't much longer when the four of them returned to where you were sitting, each getting water bottles from the cooler, Stevie a sippy cup. Your fiancé kissed your head, then plopped down on a towel beside you, chugging his drink and lying back, his hand reaching up to hold your thigh. 

Looking over, he had his other arm over his eyes. 

"Having fun, babe?" you asked. 

"Yeah." 

"Do you want your sunglasses?"

"I don't wanna move." 

"I can go grab them." 

"I don't want you to move." 

You smiled, lacing your fingers with his on your leg. 

"I'll stay right here." 

Steve was in a chair beside his wife with Stevie perched on his leg; Olivia was sitting on a towel in front of them, the children snacking on sliced watermelon.

"You two want any snacks?" Connie asked you.

"I could go for some watermelon. Javi?" 

"Sounds good," he said, groaning as he moved to sit up, and you took the two pieces offered to you, passing one to him. 

It was chilled, seedless, and juicy; Javi’s hair was sticking wetly to his forehead, seeing the cute little pudge of his belly, and his hand still in yours while the other held the slice as he ate it, pink juice dripping from his plush lips down his chin.

Truly, it was ridiculous that the most mundane things he did managed to turn you on. 

He finished eating, and you let go of his palm to take his chin between your fingers, turning his head your way—his big eyes were curious, and you were unsure of what possessed you to lean down and lick the watermelon’s juices from his skin and lips that turned up into a smile. 

He caught your mouth with his, dropping the fruit’s rind to cup the back of your head and pull you closer to deepen the kiss.  

“Oh, come on!” Steve shouted. “There are children here.” 

You broke apart, Javi’s forehead resting against yours as he sighed. 

“I'm gonna kick his ass," he hissed, "if he keeps interrupting us."

"You're not gonna kick his ass," you whispered back. 

He sighed again in defeat. 

"Fine." He pulled back. "All we were doing was kissing," he said loud enough for Steve to hear. 

"Yeah, inappropriate kissing," Steve replied. "If they wouldn't see it in a Disney movie, it's inappropriate." 

"Jesus Christ," Javi breathed. "That won't be a rule in our house—I'll kiss you however I want." 

You stroked his smooth cheek. "Yes, you will," you said, kissing the tip of his nose. 

You went back to eating your watermelon, and the man you were going to marry got up from his towel to throw away what was left of his fruit and get his aviators. 

It was cute watching Stevie hold up his little arms toward Javi and excitedly repeating, "Tio!" until your fiancé picked him up, taking him quickly into his arms. 

"You wanna go play in the sand, bud?" he asked the toddler. 

"Yes!" 

"I want to play in the sand, too!" Olivia said. 

"Okay, Tesorito (little treasure)," he replied, facing her. "Can you grab the bag with sand castle stuff, please?" 

"Yeah," she answered, jumping up and moving to grab a tote bag with what looked to have a plastic bucket, tiny shovel, and sand castle molds. 

You watched them head closer to the water, staying a little away from the tide, moving up the sand, Javi sitting down and getting into the bag. You couldn't hear what he was saying, but it looked like he asked Olivia to fill the bucket with water since she grabbed it and took off in a sprint to the ocean, Stevie taking the little red shovel to start digging. 

Connie had passed Nate to Steve while she drank a can of soda. 

"It's crazy to me that man never thought he deserved to be a father," you mused. 

"Javi's his own worst enemy," Steve said. "For as long as I've known him, he's let his past mistakes eat away at him and has had the biggest chip on his shoulder. It's good he's finally seeing he deserves to be happy." 

"It wasn't easy convincing him of that…" 

Steve covered Nate's ears as he smiled at you. "I can imagine—Javi's a real stubborn asshole. He gets something in his head, and good luck convincing him otherwise." 

"He's a cute stubborn asshole, though, and I love him a lot." 

"We know," Connie said, patting your arm and smiling. "It's obvious how much you both love each other, and we're happy he has you—Steve was right yesterday when he said our kids need more cousins, and just imagine the fun we'd have. We could take trips to Disney and other places." 

The thought of Javier walking around Disney World wearing a pair of Mickey ears and carrying around your child made you smile big enough to make your cheeks hurt. 

"Okay," you started. "In the future, what are the odds I can convince Javi to wear a Disney-themed button-up and Mickey ears?" 

Steve had moved his hands away from Nate's head. 

"Oh," he said. "If you're the one asking? He'll do it. He'll pretend like he hates it, but I think he'd love it." 

"I think you're right, Steve," you replied. 

There was something soothing about the beach—maybe it was the warmth or the rhythmic drone of the swells crashing toward shore. All you knew was it had a relaxing effect on you and calmed your busy mind. Not to mention how beautiful it was to see the ocean stretching out to the horizon; the sheer magnitude of it was breathtaking. 

Since you were probably Stevie's age, maybe even younger, you loved going to the coast. It explained your love for aquariums, your fascination with sea life, and why The Little Mermaid was your favorite Disney movie—you loved the ocean. If your parents hadn't put it in your head early on that you were destined to be a doctor, and you didn’t end up falling in love with nursing, odds are you probably would've become a marine biologist.

Javier was with the two older Murphy children building an impressive sandcastle and doing his best to keep the three-year-old from wrecking the entire thing—which was like trying to wrangle a drunk person who’s lost their motor skills and wanted to touch everything.

You'd gotten up from your chair to join them, and your betrothed greeted you with a beaming smile and a pat to the spot beside him that you sat down in. From talking to Javi and Olivia, she was the mastermind with a vision for how she wanted it to look, and he was walking her through what she needed to do to bring it to life while also making sure Stevie felt involved but not letting the toddler roam free—a true testament to Javi, in regards to children, having the patience of a saint. 

The sandcastle had fortress walls connected by four towers, and in the center of them, it rose up to look like a castle, topped with three pointed spires, the center one the tallest. Olivia added details of windows and doors with a twig to really make it pop. Honestly, it was impressive.

"Are you going to put in a moat?" you asked. 

The girl had a serious look on her face. "That's a good idea," she answered, quickly getting up to her feet and grabbing the nearby bucket. "You guys start digging. I'm going to go get water!" 

"Aye, aye, Captain," you replied, using your hand to start scooping out sand from around the perimeter. 

"Use your shovel, buddy," Javi said gently to the three-year-old, helping him dig with his tiny red plastic shovel.

"We're helping Sissy!" Stevie excitedly exclaimed. 

Your fiancé was smiling softly. "Yeah, we are. You're doing a really good job." 

"I'm thirsty," the little one said. "Can I have juice, pleeeaaassseee?"  

"Let's go ask your mom." Javi looked over at you, and you nodded at him with a smile, saying that you were okay to stay behind and help Olivia. He got up, and Stevie had to raise his hand high for Javi to hold it as they walked to his parents. 

Olivia arrived with a bucket of water, and most of the moat had been dug out, the two of you finishing it fast. She dumped the water into it to harden the sand, then went and got another pale and another to fill it. 

"It's very impressive," you told her as she stood beside you, both admiring it. 

"Thank you!” Her head turned to meet your eyes. “Now I'm hungry." 

“Hi hungry, I’m Cielito.” 

“Ugh.” She made a face. “That’s something my dad would say, and Cielito isn’t your real name.” 

You smiled. “Well, your tío seems to think it is. He never calls me by my real name.” Which was kind of true. The only time your actual name passed through his lips was when he was moaning it, and that was for you to know and no one else.

She was clearly wracking her brain to see if you were telling the truth. “Tío does only call you Cielito or his amor (love),” she finally said. “Yuck.” She had a disgusted expression.

You giggled. “I told you. Now, let’s get you a snack. You spent all that time building this masterpiece; you deserve one.” 

Javier was sitting on a towel in the sun with his long legs out in front of him, having just finished a meat and cheese sandwich on white bread Connie had given him and everyone else from the cooler. Uncapping his cold plastic water bottle, he brought it to his mouth, relishing the cool liquid traveling down his throat as he chugged. 

This wasn’t the first time he’d visited the beach with his Cielito. 

Back in August, Javier had surprised her with a weekend away to Corpus Christi as his way of showing his appreciation for all she’d done when he started his job at the Sheriff’s office—and he needed to do something special for her after she finally let him fuck her ass. 

He’d gotten them a nice room at a beachfront hotel with a private balcony—the first night, while the moon was glowing over the ocean, they’d been a bit tipsy after dinner, and he fucked her against the railing. And, he had to say, it was pretty romantic. 

They spent the majority of that Saturday at a beach he used to go to as a teenager that wasn’t overrun with tourists and partying college kids. It was a place where he was comfortable messing around with her in the water and out of sight of the other beachgoers and had no qualms feeling each other up when they laid under the sun together. 

He knew how much she loved sushi and took her to an expensive restaurant that served it for dinner that night. 

On their last day, they explored the city before heading home. 

It was a great weekend.

She loved it. 

A lot. 

So much so she let him fuck her ass the following weekend.

This trip was different. 

They were here with his best friend's family and had to keep things tame—he couldn't freely touch her no matter how much his fingers itched to feel the swell of her ass in that swimsuit; the way he wanted to kiss her was off-limits, too, according to Steve, and it was driving him crazy that he couldn’t wrap himself around her and get as close to her as possible with his tongue in her mouth. 

He knew Steve was a bit of a prude and judgmental about his sex life, but his friend was being a goddamn Puritan with a righteous stick up his ass. It had Javier beginning to think his holier-than-thou attitude had little to do with morals and was actually just 100% pure, unadulterated jealousy—his conclusion: Steve needed to get laid. And even though his best friend was being a grade-A dick with his rules and trying to sabotage Javier from getting to fuck, he wanted his friend to get some and was going to talk to his fiancée about them babysitting the kids so Steve and Connie could have a date night. 

Basically, Steve needed to chill the fuck out, and Javier was going to figure out how to make that happen because, on a day like today, Cielito would fondly call him clingy with how he needed to be near her and constantly touching some part of her body—like the back of his freehand currently pressed against the side of her thigh. Feeling her skin on his soothed something deep inside him and made him feel less restless—it grounded him. It calmed him. It was better for his nerves than a glass of top-shelf whiskey. They'd make millions if they could manufacture the way he felt just from simply touching and being close to her. 

And because he had to watch himself with everyone around, he was keeping some, not a lot, but some distance with her so he didn't fuck up. 

It felt like when he'd tried quitting smoking cold turkey and the overwhelming craving for nicotine; how he needed it more than anything, and was the only thing he could think about, consuming his every thought. She was right there, sitting criss-cross on the towel next to him, eating her sandwich; the woman he loved, the woman he was going to marry, have children with, and spend the rest of his life with. So close, so beautiful, with so much skin on display, and he wasn’t allowed to rub his hands all over her body. 

This was torture. 

He’d finished drinking, and his frustration had his jaw clenching and his fist crushing the empty plastic water bottle.

What Connie was doing caught his attention as she put more sunscreen on Olivia, who was standing before her. 

"Can I borrow that when you're done, Con?" he found himself asking all of a sudden, dropping the mangled plastic next to him in the sand. 

She held the lotion in one hand, rubbing it in on her daughter’s face with the other. 

"Sure thing," she replied, closing the lid and tossing it his way, which he caught easily. 

"Thanks." 

He moved onto his knees, ignoring the ache while shuffling onto the other towel beside his to get behind Cielito. He snapped open the cap, pouring a generous amount into his palm, shutting the lid and setting it down within reach, rubbing his hands together to spread the lotion on them. His eyes were on the back of her neck, and he was like a moth to a flame as his head dipped to kiss the side of it right behind her ear. 

She hummed in the back of her throat, her arm coming up to push her fingers into his hair since she'd finished eating. 

"Hey, handsome," she purred. "I was wondering when you'd find a way to get your hands on me without causing Steve to clutch his pearls." 

Her nails softly scraped against his scalp, and it made him shiver. 

"You've noticed how fucking ridiculous he is, too?" he whispered against the shell of her ear. 

"Babe, he went to absurdly great lengths to keep you from boning in the guest bed; he just about goes into hysterics if we do anything more than peck each other on the lips or if he sees your hands wander," she said, for only him to hear. "Yeah, I've noticed how ridiculous he's being, and I'd ask if this is normal behavior for him, but I know I'm the first girlfriend you've brought for a visit, and you probably don't know." 

"I knew he was vanilla, and he's been judgmental of my... history. He, uh, forbade me from bringing girls back to the house when I'd stay with them—I wouldn't do that in the first place, and this last time in Miami after quitting the DEA, I was giving celibacy a try." 

"Wait," she quietly asked, "was I...?" 

He smiled. "The gorgeous woman, who was too tempting, shattered my resolve and ended my, honestly, really fucking impressive amount of time as a celibate? Yeah, you are." 

They were having the conversation low enough that no one else could hear them.

"This is doing wonders for my self-esteem." 

He kissed her neck. "Good." The temptation was too much, and he slid his hands along her arms, rubbing the sunscreen into her skin, feeling the tension leave his body. 

"So, was Steve super annoying when you stayed here after getting fired and weren't celibate...?"

The only reason she was asking that was because she wanted to know what his sex life had been like, and that made him curious, seeing as she'd never paid his past dalliances much mind. 

"He wasn't any more annoying than usual. You know, I don't talk about that shit unless someone asks, or I'm being an asshole, and Steve never asked. But you don't care about how he was—ask me what you really want to know." 

He got more lotion on his hands and started working on her neck and shoulders. 

"I want to know, but I also don't want to know." 

His eyebrows pulled together, and his palms slowed. 

"Why wouldn't you wanna know?" 

"Because, um, it's dumb and makes zero sense, and I know it all happened a long time ago, and I swear I'm not possessive, but you're mine." 

Hearing her say it had sparks dancing down his spine. 

"I am yours, and no one before you matters.” He kissed her hair. “I know it's shitty, but if they weren't an informant and I only slept with them once, I probably don't even remember their name. Now you—" He poured more sunscreen onto his hands and reached around to rub her thighs. “—I couldn't stop thinking about you after the first night, and there was no way in hell I was forgetting your name, that cute yellow sundress you wore or those beautiful eyes that saw me for me and not the town fuck up, a joke of a hero, or a quick fuck.” His hands paused. “I mean, I could tell you found me attractive, and I thought you were going to start drooling when you first spotted me at the bar, but you were never interested in me for just my looks, and I liked that." 

Her tone was somber. “It always hurts my heart how lonely you were before we met.”

“And the fact you even give a shit is one of the reasons why I’m marrying you.”

“I love you.” Her head turned, and her upper body twisted so he could lean in at an awkward angle to kiss her lips.

"I love you, too,” he said into her mouth. They separated after a second, and he whispered in her ear, “No one compares to you in bed—you’re hands down the best lay I’ve ever had, and you’ve got me so fucking whipped with your perfect pussy, I’ll do anything for you—fucking anything.”

“Why is that so romantic? You know I’d do anything for you, too? You bring out my inner Gomez Addams—I’d fight for you, I’d die for you, I’d kill for you, and I’d choose you over anyone else in the entire world.”

Everything she said was true, and it had energy thrumming in his veins and happiness overtaking every cell in his body. 

“I know, mi amor (my love). It's the same for me. You're the most important person in my life." His hands were rubbing all over her thighs, and he nuzzled into her neck. "Is the insecurity gone?"

"Yes, but I have a question." 

"Yeah?" 

"When you were here, where did you pick up chicks?" 

"A bar, away from where the college kids and spring breakers go, that was more low key." 

"That definitely sounds like your kind of place." 

He moved, taking the bottle of lotion with him as he walked on his knees to in front of her crisscrossed legs, getting more sunscreen on his hands and extending one of her arms that he massaged it into. 

They were still whispering so the others wouldn't hear them. "I think I know why Steve's being so fucking obnoxious." He had her hand in his, rubbing each of her fingers.

"Because he needs to get laid?" 

His head popped up to look into her dark, lensed-covered eyes. "How'd you know?" 

"He smells of jealousy, and Connie was saying she hasn't had a proper dicking down in a while."

"Would you be mad if we spent tonight watching the kids so they can have a date night?" 

Speaking of the children, the two tiniest Murphys had been put down for a nap on a blanket under the umbrella. 

She smiled. "Javi, baby, I'm two steps ahead of you. I've already planned it out with Connie. I'm paying for a babysitter, and the four of us are going out."

Don’t get Javier wrong, he loved babysitting the Murphy children and had done it so many times he’d lost count and was more than willing to do it again tonight. Still, he’d much rather go out with his fiancée and best friends and didn’t want to turn down the chance to do so, not when it was something so rare; he was pretty sure the last time he went to a bar with both Steve and Connie, all of them were still living in Colombia and Olivia hadn’t been born yet. Usually, it was just Steve and him having a couple of drinks and shooting the shit while Connie stayed at home with the kids. Or it was Javier watching the kids so their parents could have a date night. 

“You’re perfect, and I don’t know how I got you to fall in love with me.” 

He got more lotion on his hands and started working on her other arm. 

“Oh, stop that.” Her free hand swatted away his words. “And I fell in love with you because you’re a goddamn catch.” Her fingers were smaller than his as he massaged sunscreen into them. 

“Hard to believe I’m a catch,” he said and kept talking, even though her mouth opened to say something, “But, I’m not gonna argue with you since I know you meant what you said.”

“Kiss me.” 

Smiling, he leaned forward and pecked her on the lips. 

She was frowning when he pulled back. 

“Javier, kiss me.” 

“Steve will yell at us.” 

“Steve can kick rocks—I wanna make out with my husband-to-be. Now kiss me." She puckered her lips, and he chuckled.

He'd let go of her hand, and this time, when he kissed her, she grabbed his face and made him follow her as she laid back, her legs uncrossing for him to rest his hips in the crux of her thighs while he was on top of her, kissing every last bit of air from her lungs. His arm beside her head held up his weight, his tongue plundering her mouth, the sun's hot rays beaming down against his bare back. 

Javier loved moments like this where she encompassed his every sense, and the world fell away to leave only her—she was all he could smell, all he could taste, all he could feel, her breaths were all he could hear, and if he opened his eyes she was all he could see. It was all her, and nothing else mattered. 

She was his everything and forever.

Ice cold water landed on his spine, Javier's body tensing at the sudden chill, his surprised, 'Fuck!' muffled with his mouth on hers. 

Steve was laughing as he screwed the cap on the empty water bottle, anger swelling inside Javier to the point he thought he might explode. 

He was scrambling onto his feet, ignoring his fiancée shouting, "Javi, no!" All he saw was red, and the moment he stood, facing his asshole of a best friend, and noticed the ground behind him was clear and the children weren't close, Javier launched himself at the other man, completely catching Steve off guard. A wheeze sounded as his shoulder rammed into his friend's stomach, followed by a pained grunt when Javier tackled him to the ground onto his ass. 

In his rage, he failed to remember a very important fact: Steve Murphy wrestled in high school and was the Tennessee Secondary School Athletic State Wrestling Champion back in '72.

The water bottle was long forgotten, Steve somehow managing to twist out from under him with Javier's arm getting put behind his back and shoved face-first into the sand. 

"You really wanna do this, Jav?" the blonde man panted. 

He did, and he was angry enough, thinking that with strength and weight in his corner, he stood a chance. 

Truthfully, Javi could take a lot of shit, and it required an astronomical amount of it to make him snap. In the time you’d been together, you could only think of one other time when he lost his cool: Stechner. That weasley fucker deserved the broken nose he had to get repaired at your hospital’s emergency room and the lack of good bedside manner from the nurses in that unit—word had traveled fast to watch out for the asshole, thanks to Robyn, and if there’s one thing you don’t do, it’s fuck with nurses. 

There was the bullshit with Lorraine he had to put up with, and Tammy, the girl at the farmers market who dared to hit on him with you there that pissed him off; how insanely annoyed and jealous he got at all of the guys who wouldn’t leave you alone in San Antonio, and your fight when he told you he loved you. 

Then you had Steve, who you’d been staying with for going on two days, poking the bear, if you will, and repeatedly doing things to annoy your fiancé until he finally reached his breaking point. The only reason you weren’t freaking out was that neither man had thrown a punch—they weren’t looking to cause the other any outright harm or too much pain; it was them letting off some steam. 

Now, here you were watching. 

It wasn't that you thought Javi couldn't take Steve in a fight. You just didn't see how he could get out of the position his friend pinned him in—he was fucked, and his only choice would be to tap out. 

Your eyes rounded when he seemed to leverage his weight to roll them and somehow break the hold—it was pretty impressive, especially since his aviators had managed to stay on his gorgeous face. 

The two men were grappling now, neither wanting to give in. 

You got up from the towel, dusting your legs off to sit in the chair beside Connie's, the other woman over at the cooler. Her two sons were asleep on a blanket under the umbrella's shade, Olivia sitting in the seat previously occupied by her father, watching the wrestling match with fascination and mindlessly eating a bag of Goldfish like it was popcorn. 

Connie returned with two bottles of beer, handing you one as she sat next to you. 

"Thanks—should we break this up?" you asked, unscrewing the cap and taking a long drink.

They were tussling on the ground, and you couldn't tell who was winning with how they were rolling around. 

"We should let them get it out of their systems," she replied. "I know Steve hasn't been easy, and it's better than Javi getting fed up and punching him." 

You looked at her. "Has he punched him before?" 

She met your eyes, her sunglasses on. "No." She shook her head. "But he's gotten real close. Steve knows just how to push his buttons. This time around, though, you're here, and Javier's very protective, so he's not putting up with Steve's crap as well as he usually does."

You frowned. "I'm sorry I'm causing problems." 

"There's nothing to be sorry for." She patted your knee. "They'll fight this out and be so tired and sore, they won't have the energy to do it again." 

Javi had Steve in a headlock, seeing the muscles in his arm and naked back flexed, his skin shiny with sweat and dusted with sand from tumbling around in it—his sunglasses were defying all odds by staying on his face, now just a little crooked. 

"You're obviously rooting for Steve," you stated, taking a swig of beer. 

Connie had just finished taking a drink. "I'm required to since I'm married to him." 

"And if you weren't married?" 

Her gaze was on yours. "I'd root for the underdog. Steve was a pretty good wrestler back in high school, and he'll tell you all about it." She rolled her eyes. "We have all his trophies and medals in a box somewhere because I will not have him displaying the ugly things in our living room. Anyways, he knows Javi swam, but where he's from, all that matters is wrestling and football, so he doesn't consider swimming a real sport—as I've told you, Steve knows how to push Javier's buttons, and he likes to tell him bowling requires actual skill and is more of a sport than Javi splashing around in water. So, I'd love to see a swimmer kick his butt, but that’s our secret."  She winked, and you smiled. 

Your eyes went to the old partners, seeing your fiancé was down on his stomach with Steve half on top of him, Javi's bicep in the bend of his elbow as he pulled it back in a lock to try and immobilize him. Perspiration was dripping down their faces, and you had no idea what the next play would be since your betrothed had a lot of surprises up his sleeve.

"I would love to see the swimmer kick his butt, too,” you said.  “It's about time Steve gets knocked down a peg." 

At that second, Javi got his knees under him and twisted, flinging the blonde man off of him.

"Yes!" you cheered. "Get him, babe!"

"Get him, tío!" Olivia shouted. "Beat him up! Do you think he’d really hurt Dad?” she asked her mom.

“No, baby," Connie answered. "Your father will be fine. They’re just roughhousing like a couple of giant kids." 

Her dad was on his back, Javi straddling his stomach and leaning forward to trap Steve's bent arm under his chest. You knew the man you were marrying had to know how to fight without a gun or weapon, as you imagined he would've been trained when he first joined the DEA on all sorts of ways to protect himself. 

What you didn’t expect was his next move, which was executed so smoothly it made you gasp.

Turning his body across Steve’s torso, his ass and feet were on the ground, knees bent, squeezing his heels against the other man’s side to hold him still while yanking Steve’s arm to his chest from up between his legs and pulling it with him as he sat back, causing the appendage to go uncomfortably straight—and if he went back any further you knew, it’d break.

It looked painful.

"I give!" Steve said through heavy breaths, his free hand hitting Javi's thigh. "I give!"

His sunglasses were sitting lopsided on his nose, his lungs heaving and making him pant as relief washed over him that Steve finally tapped out. 

He let go of his friend's arm immediately and moved off of him to lie in the sand with his feet going the opposite way than Steve's to catch his breath. 

He was too tired to be happy he won. 

Javier had gotten up at ungodly hours the last two mornings, and for him to think it'd been too early was saying something since he usually was up before the sun rose, and his fiancée woke almost every day. Add in traveling the day before, spending a couple of hours fucking in a hotel today, playing at the beach, and now finishing whatever the fuck Steve and he just did (Was it fighting? A brawl? A battle for dominance? Javier taking out his anger on the subject of it?), exhausted, didn't correctly describe the bone-deep, having-to-fight-to-keep-his-eyes-open tiredness he was overcome with.

The sound of footsteps sinking in the sand was heard coming in their direction. 

"Are you okay, Dad?" Olivia asked his friend. 

Javier's head lifted to see the girl kneeling beside her father and lowered it again.

"I'm fine, baby girl," Steve answered. "Your tío—now Olivia, your brothers are asleep and can’t hear what I’m about to say, so you better not make me put money in the swear jar when we get home—but your tío is a real sonofabitch and a cheating asshole for using his goddamn Brazilian mumbo jumbo bullshit that’s fucking illegal to do in real wrestling matches.”

Steve didn’t care for martial arts, especially the ones that allowed choking and locking joints as valid ways to make opponents submit. 

“I didn’t realize we were having a regulation match, Steve,” Javi said. “You got a spare singlet? I left mine in the high school locker room back in Laredo ‘cause I never—mi tesorito (my little treasure),” he said to Olivia. “If your dad doesn’t have to put change in the swear jar, I don’t either.” He went back to talking to Steve, “I left mine in the high school locker room back in Laredo ‘cause I never wore that shit. Now, stop being a sore fucking loser. You’re setting a bad example for your child.”

“I’m sorry, Olivia,” Steve apologized. “I shouldn’t have said all that and accepted my loss with more grace. Losing never means you’re a failure. It’s a chance to learn from your mistakes and do better next time. You got that, kiddo?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Good.”

Javier's head was back to resting in the sand, fixing his aviators, and closing his eyes—which was a mistake, feeling himself start to doze. 

He groaned as he sat up and moved to stand, holding out his hand for Steve to take. The other man let Javier help him to his feet. 

Steve and Olivia headed toward the rest of their family as Javier wiped the remnants of the beach off of his body to remove whatever of it he could. 

His eyes found Cielito's the moment he looked forward, and it made him smile, his feet moving in her direction without him having to tell them. It seemed she was drinking the rest of her beer in one go, her throat bobbing with each swallow. 

His attention moved to her breasts covered by the swimsuit top, his tongue swiping along his bottom lip at the thought of how easy it'd be to pull it down to play with them—they'd get bigger when she was pregnant, and she might choose to breastfeed... a hot spike of arousal shot through him and it caught him so off guard, he stumbled wondering why the fuck it turned him on thinking about sucking on her tits while she was lactating. 

They didn't keep secrets from each other, and he wouldn't call them secrets; there were just things that turned Javier on that he was too ashamed to tell her about—like how it made him hard to sniff her panties after she'd worn them all day; she loved that he'd taken over doing their laundry and had no idea it was him being a fucking pervert, smelling her clothes. 

And now she couldn't find out he wanted to taste her milk because he was also apparently a freak. 

He must've had a look on his face because when her beer bottle lowered, he was met with a concerned expression. She sat the empty drink down in the sand and got out of her chair to have them chest to chest with barely a second passing. 

"What's wrong?" she asked, framing his face with her hands. 

His head turned to kiss the center of her palm while he grabbed onto her hips. "Nothing's wrong," came his muffled response. "I'm just tired." 

Her other hand swept his bangs off his forehead. "You wanna take a nap? Connie's gonna go play in the water with Olivia and Stevie, who just woke up, while Steve watches Nate sleep. We can rest for a bit—it's honestly surprising you're even still awake."

"Barely." 

"Then it's naptime, babycakes." She smiled and grabbed one of his hands, pulling him over to their towels on the ground, letting go of him to fix the terry cloth and leaving no space between them. She got down on one and tugged him to join her, Javier going immediately to lie beside her on his side, removing his sunglasses, her doing the same, with his arm going under his head and bringing her front to meet his, tucking her under his chin.

He kissed her hair. 

Her finger was drawing circles on his pec, and he was so relaxed and content he felt boneless. 

"I'm not saying I condone you attacking Steve," she said. "Even if we both know he had it coming. I will say it was very sexy of you to kick his ass." 

"You're not mad at me?" 

She didn't seem angry, but then again, he hadn't listened when she tried to stop him from going after his friend.

"Nah," she answered. "It wasn't a try-to-do-as-much-damage-to-the-other-person-as-possible fight and was more a let-me-show-you-I-can-kick-your-ass fight—basically, you were showing off and taking your anger out on him." 

"How was I showing off?" 

"Well, let's start with the fact you decided to wrestle a wrestler and all those flashy moves—especially the last one. Definitely showing off." 

"Was just trying not to have my ass handed to me." He yawned, cuddling closer to her. 

"Uh-huh. Sure, Javi."

"Knew I had a chance of beating him." 

"Your final move was fucking brutal. You know you could break someone's arm like that?" 

"In real combat, you do break their arm."

"Jesus."

His eyelids were heavy, his words slurring a little. 

“When I got my assignment to Colombia, I looked into what I was getting myself into. I had the information the DEA gave me, but I wanted in-depth shit about how people fought down there, like preferred weapons and fighting styles.” He yawned again, speaking through it, “I found out about this Brazilian self-defense martial art—” His tone went back to normal. “—called jiu-jitsu and took some classes while stateside so I wouldn't be completely fucked—has come in handy a few times, but the cartels preferred guns.”

"Of course, guns. Where's the finesse, though? The skill? Guns are so boring and loud, I wanna see people actually fight." 

He smiled. 

"Shooting a gun isn't as easy as it looks." 

He was the best shot in basic training, all thanks to the fact he was born and raised in Texas on a ranch and was taught early on how to properly handle firearms—he’d do target practice with the empty cans his mother would save for him while she was cooking; when he was older, he’d go out with his father and cousins to hunt coyotes who threatened their cattle. 

"You aim and squeeze a trigger; how hard can it be?" she asked.  

"If you'd let me teach you, you'd know—we can do targets out at Pop's." 

"No, thank you. My hands are for healing, not killing." 

He breathed out a sigh. 

This was something they'd argued about before, and he didn't have the energy to fight with her right now. 

Javier wanted her to know how to use the gun he kept locked up under their bed in case of an emergency—it would give him peace of mind to know if he wasn't home, she could protect herself. She didn't know this, but since starting his new job consulting, he'd gotten a surprising amount of offers to speak at events and universities on his expertise and time with the DEA. He was shocked by how much they wanted to pay him to do forty-five-minute to an-hour talks, and he was willing to do them, but it'd mean going out of town for days at a time, and he'd worry too much about something happening to his fiancée while he was gone. 

Stechner shook him up with his dossier on her, and Javier wouldn't put it past the bastard to do something if he was out of town. This was why she needed to know how to defend herself and why it was such a point of contention for him—he was scared.

He couldn't lose her; it'd ruin him, and if something happened to her because of his past, there would be no coming back from it. He loved her more than anything, and if she wouldn't protect herself, he was going to do it for her until the day he died.

"Go to sleep, baby," she whispered, softly kissing his chest. 

His words came out mumbled. "I-love-you." 

"I love you, too." 

The steady crash of the ocean waves, the comfort of holding the woman he loved in his arms, and the warmth radiating from the sun lulled him to the point that his consciousness was slipping free, falling into sleep. 

—★—

He didn't know how long he slept. 

He did know he woke up because a small, wet body collided with his back. 

They were leaning over him, a tiny hand stroking his cheek, speaking quietly, copying how their parents always woke them up, "Wake up, tío. It's time for you to go bye-bye." It was cute and mildly threatening. "You gotta get up, tío." 

His wif-fiancée was still snuggled in his arms.

"Where am I going?" his sleepy voice asked. 

"Home." 

"To my house? You want me to go home?" 

"No! MY house. I don't want you to leave!" Stevie sounded on the verge of tears, and Javier felt terrible. 

He turned his head and moved his arm behind the child to rub comforting circles into his back. 

"Hey, mi principito (my little prince)," he said softly. "I'm not leaving yet, bud. I'll go back to your house. Are we done playing at the beach?"

The boy nodded, his hat flopping with the motion. "I wanna go home. I miss Moose." 

Moose was his floppy-eared, stuffed dog. 

"Yeah? Did you wake me up so I can take you and your Sissy home?" 

"Yes, it's time to say bye-bye to the ocean." 

"Okay, principito (little prince). We'll say bye-bye to the ocean, and I'll take you home to Moose." 

The child smiled and hugged his neck, choking him a little. 

"Thank you, tío!"

"You're welcome." 

Stevie let go of him and ran around toward the rest of his family, Javier seeing they were packing up. 

He looked down to see Cielito was still sleeping. He slid his fingers along her cheek, whispering, "Wake up, baby. It's time for us to go bye-bye." 

"Why is that vaguely threatening?" her tired voice asked. "We might be at the beach, but I am not gonna be sleeping with the fishes, thank you very much." 

"That's fucking dark." 

Her head tilted up to look at him with squinted eyes from the light. 

"Too much?" 

After what he was thinking about before he passed out? 

"Today? Yes." 

She frowned. "Are you okay?" 

"Yeah, I'm fine. I was in my head earlier." 

"Do you want to talk about it?" 

"Not today or while we're on this trip. It's something for when we're home." Because it will end up being a fight, and they'll need the privacy of their own space to have it out and make up by fucking. 

"Okay. Guess it's time to get up." 

With that, they were getting up and helping their friends pack everything and clean the sand off the children and themselves. Only a little later, they were in their vehicles and hitting the road. 

When Connie said she'd been too busy with work and taking care of her kids to decorate for Christmas, it saddened you because Javi had told you once that when they all still lived down in Colombia, she was one of those people who decorated the day after Thanksgiving. Which wasn't a bad thing, and you completely understood since a Christmas tree was put up in your living room the weekend after Turkey Day—you were also one of those people who loved decorating the first chance they had, and it broke your heart a fellow enthusiast was missing out on something they loved doing. 

So, after getting back to the Murphys and washing away the beach in the shower like everybody else, you asked Javi to keep the children busy while you helped Connie and Steve get out her big plastic storage totes with the decorations and the giant box with the artificial tree. 

The Christmas tree went up first in the sitting room at the front of the house in a spot between the couch and dining room, and for a fake tree, it looked pretty real with how full the limbs were. 

You helped her string it with colorful lights, and once the red skirt was put down at the base, Connie called for Javi to bring in the kids to help her decorate with ornaments from an open, almost full bin. 

This seemed like an intimate family moment with Christmas music softly floating in from the room past the dining room, Connie holding her one-year-old who was looking at the pretty lights in wonder and speaking nonsense, Olivia and Steve laughing about something you didn't catch as they grabbed ornaments out of the container to hang on the tree with Stevie. 

It was the perfect picture of a happy family, and it made you yearn so hard to one day have the same thing, your chest squeezed tight. 

What made your eyes start to water was the realization that you were going to have something like this—this was a taste of your future and what you had to look forward to. 

A large palm wrapped around yours, and your head turned to see Javi beside you. He nodded once toward the front door and quietly led you out of it so as not to disturb the family. 

He was in jeans and a pastel pink button-up that matched the color of the t-shirt you were wearing with large, thin, teal letters across your chest spelling out, 'Oregon.' It was something you picked up on a visit to the rainy state years ago.

He faced you, wrapping you up in his arms once you were outside on their porch, that was nothing more than slightly raised pavement under an outcropping of the roof. 

"You okay, Cielito?" His face was pressed into the side of your head. 

"Yeah. I'm great." He tightened his arms around you a little. 

His lips were close to your ear, softly rasping, "I was thinking about what our Christmas could look like next year. We could be in our new house. It could be our first Christmas with a baby, or you'd be pregnant at least. But what I know for sure is we'll be together, we'll be married, and we'll be so fucking happy."

Tears were brimming in your eyes, moving your head to meet his gaze, smiling. 

"We will, Javi. We'll be so fucking happy, and we'll be a family." 

His hand cupped your cheek as he softly smiled. 

"You know we're already a family? You, me, Pop. We're a family, and mi mamá is gonna watch, wherever she is, as it grows, and I know she'll be so happy." He made sure your eyes were on his. "Cielito, mi amor (my love), I don't want you to think that we become a family when we get married—you don't need my last name to be family, and we've been one for a long fucking time now, at least to Pop and I, we have." 

There was a lump in your throat, and your eyes burned with unshed tears. 

For as long as you could remember, you'd always felt out of place within your family. Your brother got all of your parents' attention, your cousins all shined with their 4.0 GPAs, attendance to the top schools in the nation, and on your father's side, graduating with medical degrees and going right into internships at the best teaching hospitals. And there was you, the one who went to a state school to save on tuition; you did get good grades, but it was for a degree that wasn't flashy enough. 

There wasn’t a time you felt good enough or loved by your immediate family. 

All of this meant that you'd never had a family like Javi or the Murphys. There was never any warmth or unconditional love for you. At least there wasn't until this man in front of you came into your life. He gave you a family with him: his dad, his tías, tíos, and primos (aunts, uncles, and cousins). They all welcomed you with open arms and open hearts, treating you like you'd been a part of the family for years and weren't a stranger. Knowing Javi thought you were already a family made you so happy you struggled to keep yourself from crying. 

It wasn't blood that made a family. It was love; pure, unconditional love. 

"Thank you," your voice was small. 

His eyes got a little bigger. "For what, baby?" 

"Loving me and giving me a family, at least one that cares about me." You could see how sad it made him to hear that. "And," you continued, "wanting to have tiny Peñas with me, so I'll have even more family to love and love me.” You took in a breath. “This is the first time I'm saying this out loud, but I've felt so fucking alone for I don't even know how long. I tried to drown it out by working—which didn't work. And it led to me moving to Laredo where I’d have a better work/life balance, and by fucking serendipity, I met you my second week there." Tears started falling down your cheeks. "I met my soulmate in the produce section of an H-E-B and absolutely cannot look at tomatoes anymore without remembering how small they look in your enormous mitts." There was a slight shift of his head, and you knew there was a question on his mind. "Yes, Javier, I get a little horny looking at tomatoes now because they make me think about your hands. Are you happy? I get turned on by a fucking vegetable." 

"Strawberries." 

Your eyebrows creased. "What?" 

He was looking at you seriously. "Strawberries turn me on."

Your brow lifted. "The time with the whipped cream?" 

He smiled. "And I got your come all over a strawberry and ate it? Yeah, can't look at them without getting half-hard." 

"That makes me feel so much better. I'm not the only weirdo." He grimaced for a split second. 

"No... You're not..." 

His mouth was suddenly on yours, kissing you tenderly, a hand caressing your cheek while the other slipped into the back pocket of your jean shorts. 

There happened to be another reason he'd brought you outside, you came to find out after making out for a few minutes. One of Connie's Christmas totes was out there with lights for the house, the long green wires dotted with multi-colored glass bulbs. 

Javi procured a metal ladder from god only knew where, and you wondered how exactly the lights were going to be hung—they had a tiled roof that overhung a little over the front and back of the house, and there weren't any wooden edges or gutters that could be used. 

Another thing about their roof was it was a tad steep, yet you watched as Javi climbed up the metal rungs of the ladder with a string of lights in his hand to get up onto the tiles and, to your absolute horror, laid down on his belly to lean over the edge. 

This was how you found out there were nails in the home's exterior wall for the sole purpose of Christmas lights, and your dumbass of a fiancé was choosing the most dangerous way to put them up.

You didn't want to spook him, so you whispered harshly. 

"Javier, why are you doing it like that? Use the ladder." 

His voice was strained from how he was positioned. "I hate going up and down and moving it, when doing it like this, I just have to move over." 

"You're gonna fall and crack your head open." 

"I've done this before. I'll be fine." 

Your arms crossed over your chest, hmphing. 

"Well, I don't like it." 

His head tilted to look at you. 

"We should make sure it's not this fucking hard to put up lights on our house. Remind me to check the plans when we get home." The draft plans for the house you were having built; they weren't the final ones since you had yet to make all the edits and additions you wanted. 

"Will do. Be careful. You're stressing me out." 

He scooted over. 

The front door opened, and Steve came out. 

"What are y'all doing out here?" 

"Javi's risking his life to make your house pretty," you said, pointing at the man. 

Steve moved to stand next to you. 

"If you fall, we're not paying the medical bills," Steve called out. 

Javi flipped him off. 

The blonde man turned his head toward you. "Thank you for doing this. You don't know how happy it's made my wife. This is her favorite time of the year, and I know it's been killing her that she hasn't had the time to decorate."

"We're happy to help," you replied. 

"She used to do it first thing the morning after Thanksgiving. She'd always make sure she had it off from work and I'd come home to our place looking like Santa Claus moved in." He chuckled. "Then, after the kids, it got harder for her to find the time, and the thing is, she doesn't even need to work full time. I make enough to support our family, but if I were to suggest her becoming a stay-at-home mom? Hey, Jav?" The man in question had slowly been making his way across the roof. 

"Yeah?" 

"What would Con do if I suggested she became a stay-at-home mom?" 

"She'd have your balls."

Steve spoke to you, "She'd have my fucking balls." 

Your eyes were on his blue ones. "Well, she loves her job, and I completely understand where she's coming from. Why is she the one who has to quit her career to take care of the children? Aren't you tired of the DEA's bullshit? Why don't you quit and become a stay-at-home dad?"

He made a face. "Might as well let Connie take my balls. I wouldn't want my wife being the breadwinner." He looked toward the roof, saying loudly, "Javi, would you want your wife to be the sole breadwinner?" 

"No."

That wasn't the full context of the question.

"He didn't give you the full scenario," you told your future husband. "Would you be okay with your wife working full time? She wants to do it and loves her job while you were a stay-at-home dad?"

He completely stopped moving and was silent for some seconds. 

"Javi?" you said. "Are you okay?" 

"Yeah, sorry. To answer your question, yes, we both pull our weight and love what we do."

You turned to Steve, "See, there's nothing wrong with a woman being the breadwinner if you're equally putting in the effort for your family. She works, and you handle the kids and everything with the house. It's an even trade and doesn't make you less of a man. You gotta work on being more of a feminist, Steve. You've got a daughter with an absolute boss bitch of a mother showing her it's possible to have a successful career and a family. Sure, Connie doesn't need to work, but she loves it, and maybe next year you could surprise her by keeping the kids out of the house all day on her day off or hire a babysitter so she can do this one thing that makes her so fucking happy."

"I never even thought of that," he said quietly.

You gave his arm a pat. "That's why it's good to have an outside perspective sometimes. Now I swear to god, you better grab that ladder and take care of the lights on that part over the patio—" It was a steep A-shape, and you didn't want Javi on it. "Or, I will have your balls, and Connie will absolutely back me up." 

"Yes, ma'am." He started moving toward the ladder. "Javi," he said to his friend. "That woman you're marrying is scary—it's no wonder she and Connie got on like a house on fire." 

"I hate admitting we both like strong, independent women, who can kick our asses," Javi said.

Steve chuckled. "They're sexy as hell." 

While the men finished the lights outside the house, you went inside to see if Connie needed help. 

The tree was beautifully decorated with the lights, shining ball ornaments in many colors, some decorations made by the children, a string of beads around it, and at the bottom was a train track at the perimeter of the tree skirt with a model train slowly chugging along. 

On the couches and chairs in the sitting room, festive pillows were put out that were white and had red poinsettias as a design on them, one small rectangular pillow in red velvet, and white cursive writing reading, 'Jingle Bells.'

Stockings were hung for each family member, with their names neatly embroidered on them on the wall beside the tree. The dining room table had Christmas-themed table settings atop it, and in the kitchen, the towels were all replaced with red and green ones. 

The mother and her kids were nowhere to be found at the front of the house or in the kitchen, but there was laughing at the back in the family room where you headed. 

Connie was outlining the windows with a string of rainbow-colored lights while Olivia danced with her brothers to “Santa Claus Is Coming To Town” by The Jackson Five—Nate doing more of a shimmy while Stevie did a shake and their sister twirled about. 

This was another one of those moments where you felt like you were intruding on core memories being made—these children, the older ones at least, would remember dancing their hearts out to Christmas music after spending the day at the beach with their favorite uncle. 

A special day for them. 

Like how it was a special day for you and memories were made you'd never forget. 

You'd always remember the warmth of Javier's leather jacket over your shoulders, the smell of the salty, briny air, how your hand felt in his, the beautiful colors of the sky as the sun rose and the light reflected off the ocean, and the moment you realized he was proposing, the surprise, the shock, the unbridled happiness, and seeing the gorgeous ring you'd find out belonged to his mother. He tasted of mint when you kissed him the first time after you said yes. When you finished breakfast, his kisses were laced with coffee and the sweetness of fruit and glazed pastries. The words of his love and devotion were etched in your brain, and how he knew he would marry you on your third date during another moment you could never forget, of dancing in the kitchen with him for the first time. 

This was a day you'd think about on the bad days. You'd use these memories in the future to remember why you loved Javier Peña so much when he pissed you off, annoyed you, or fucked up. Your children would hear about their mother's best morning of her entire life. 

You turned around and started walking toward the kitchen to get a glass of water. 

One day, it’d be Javi and you making core memories with your own children, and the thought made you smile. 

The Christmas lights were a pain in the ass to put up on the house, but he'd gotten it done and didn't fall off the roof and crack his head open—he had to change his shirt, though, which annoyed the fuck out of him because he wouldn't match his fiancée when they went out. 

It was later on in the evening, they'd eaten dinner, the kids had been put to bed, and the last-minute babysitter willing to come and charge them an arm and a leg had shown up to make bank watching TV and eat his friends’ food. 

They were on their way to the bar in their rental while Steve and Connie took his little truck. 

"Why are you pouting?" Cielito asked. 

"I'm not pouting." 

"You're absolutely pouting. Is it the shirt?" 

"No..."

"We can go to a bar not looking like twinsies one time, baby." His hand was holding hers on her thigh, and she rubbed the back of his with her other one. "Besides, the shirt you're wearing is still a shade of pink."

"But not the right shade." 

"I like your coral shirt. I'm sorry my matching shirt to that one is absolutely disgusting from today's events. We'll match again tomorrow." 

He deflated as he sighed. 

"Anyways, we're going to a bar in Miami. Is this like a party bar? Should I be expecting a bunch of college kids? Or something low-key?" 

His face scrunched up. 

"Definitely not a party bar. We're going to my usual place." 

"Oh." 

He glanced over at her. 

"Is that okay?" he asked. "Or do you want to go to a party bar? I can take you dancing if that's what you want. Steve and Connie won't give a fuck. They're just happy about getting a night without the kids." 

She was looking at her lap. 

"The place we're going is fine."

His bullshit detector in his head was going off, looking back at the road. 

"What's wrong with this bar? Why don't you want to go to it?" 

"I didn't say anything was wrong with it or that I didn't want to go to it."

"Your reaction when I told you where we're going begs to differ—cut the shit, mi amor (my love). What's wrong?" 

She let out a long sigh and mumbled a reply he couldn't understand. 

"What?" he asked, looking over at her. "Use your words, baby." 

"I said I don't like that we're going to the place you'd find women to fuck at! There, are you happy?" 

Her outburst caught him off guard, and it took him a second to respond. 

"You've never had a problem with the bar in Laredo..." he said. 

"That's different." She slumped. 

"How is it different...?" 

"We're just really digging into my insecurities today." 

"What are you talking about?" 

He was so confused. She was the one who wanted to go to a bar, and he was taking her to one that had a decent atmosphere she’d like. 

"The women you hooked up with in Laredo are all around your age—I'm an outlier. Then we have Miami, that's a whole different playing field because it's filled to the brim with young gorgeous women—like so many chicks walking down the street who could be models, and then there's fucking me who isn't even looking her cutest and was dumb to not pack a single pretty dress, and we're going to the place you used to pick up hot ladies to bone!"

"I don't give a fuck about anyone else at the bar, and you're the one wearing my mother's ring. Cielito?" He glanced over at her, and she met his eyes. "Anywhere we go, it doesn't matter the place or how many people are there, you're the one I look for—nobody else matters. They don't fucking exist. It's you. It's always only you that I search for in the room.” He focused forward again. “Yeah, we're going to the bar I used to frequent, but that's because it's a nice place that I know you'll like. If you're really bothered about it, we'll go somewhere else. But you need to understand that—name a female celebrity the world thinks is the sexiest." He sure as fuck didn't know. The only one he could name off the top of his head was Farrah Fawcett.

"Um, Jennifer Aniston." 

"I have no fucking clue who that is." 

"Rachel on Friends and the main chick in that movie we watched where the woman gets pregnant and wants to raise the baby with her gay best friend instead of her boyfriend and the baby daddy." 

He vaguely remembered the movie and what the actress looked like. 

"Okay, yeah. You need to understand that Jennifer Aniston could be in the room, and I wouldn't fucking notice because I'd be too busy looking at you." 

"Well, if we're out in public, there'd probably be fans flocking her and paparazzi, so she'd be pretty hard to ignore, on top of that fact, she's stunning." 

He took a deep breath and let it out. 

"Cielito?" His head turned toward her.

"Yes?" She met his gaze.

"I love you and only have eyes for you. Do you understand that?" 

"Yes, and I'm a little overwhelmed by how sweet it is that you search for me, and I do the same thing and search for you, and literally Harrison Ford could be in the room, and you'd be the one I was ogling."

"Really?" 

"Yes, because, as I've stated, you are the sexiest man alive." 

That made him feel really good about himself.

"Do you want me to take you somewhere else?" 

"No. I'm okay now. You made me feel better." 

"Good." 

He raised her hand to kiss her knuckles and the large diamond on her ring.

When Javier spent a lot of time somewhere, he looked for three things: a decent barber, a good bar, and Mexican food. This meant his first couple of weeks were spent getting acquainted with his new surroundings and searching for his big three. 

In Colombia, he didn't have a barber but instead went to a woman-owned salon, where an abuela, her two daughters, and a granddaughter ran the place, and he had the best time listening to the chismear (gossip) while the old woman did his hair. 

Aside from the bar everyone at the embassy went to, there was also this little hole-in-the-wall place he liked to go to when he didn't want to be seen by colleagues called La Sirenita (The Little Mermaid) that Cielito got a kick out of when he told her about it. 

He managed to find Mexican places in each place he lived while in South America, though Bogotá had the best tacos.

Miami, Steve told him to get his hair cut at the place he went to, and Javier laughed because he thought it was a joke. He found a barber within the first week by simply asking a guy working at the mall with a nice, fresh haircut where he'd gotten it done. 

There was a huge nightlife scene and more bars and clubs than he could count, but his preference was dive bars where the atmosphere wasn't too rowdy, and the drinks were poured well, which led to him finding a joint whose name was taken from a euphemism for drunken hallucinations, called The Pink Elephant—he got a kick out of the name, and the place wasn’t half bad.

It wasn't flashy; the lights were dimmed, with a handful of bright neon signs on the walls advertising different brands of beer. The wall behind the long bar had dozens and dozens of liquor bottles displayed behind it on shelves. The seating options included the bartop, tables, and booths, and a small stage was at the back for live music with a dance floor that wasn’t too big. A hallway separated the kitchen from a small room attached to the main one that had a couple of pool tables and down the hall led to two single-stall bathrooms, a janitor’s closet, and a door to the outside where people could smoke if they wanted air, and didn’t want to do it inside.

Since it was a Friday night, there was already a light haze of cigarette smoke when they walked in, and a cover band was playing hits from the 80s. Only a few seats were empty at the bartop, and it wasn't looking good in terms of tables until Connie spotted some people leaving a booth and snagged it before they even made it out of the door. 

It wasn’t terribly loud, but he had to speak in Cielito's ear as they walked to the bar with his arm around her. "Go sit with Connie. Steve and I will get the drinks." 

"I'm staying with you," she said.

He shrugged to himself. "Okay," he replied and kissed the side of her head. 

Steve and she were on either side of him when they got to the bartop, and her right arm was around his waist with her hand on his ass. Her left elbow rested on the top of the bar, and she seemed to be really interested in touching her hair. 

He smiled as they waited for the bartender to come over and take their order. His head turned to speak in her ear again. "You want me to get up on stage and say in the mic for everyone to hear I'm yours and marrying you?" 

"I don't know what you're talking about. I simply wanted to spend more time with you." 

"You wanted to mark your territory, is what you wanted to do." He hugged her closer to his side. "And I fucking love it—flash your ring back a little more. I don't like how that woman's looking at me." 

Her head quickly turned toward him. 

"What woman?" 

"The one at the table.” He nodded over her. “Seven o'clock. Blonde. Fake tits. Won't stop eyefucking the back of my head." 

Cielito's head whipped in the direction he said, and her glare must've been deadly with how the other woman paled, his fiancée flipping her off with her ring finger, followed by the middle one. 

He laughed, pressing his face into her neck and kissing her skin, saying into it, "I love you so fucking much." 

Her hand went into the hair at the back of his head, and she pulled to make him look at her. "I love you, too." 

Those perfect lips of hers smashed against him, and he grabbed a handful of her ass, opening his mouth for her tongue to slide against his. 

It might be fucked up, but one thing that really got him going was when she got territorial and needed everyone in the vicinity to know they were together. He loved being wanted so much that she was broadcasting he was hers, and she was his, and she’d fight anyone who tried to make a pass at him. That was why he was all over her, too, so anyone with eyes would see she was off limits. 

It was her protectiveness of him, like he was of her, that also did it for him. Without even thinking, she’d put herself between him and another to defend him if she had to—which he’d never allow her to be in any actual danger. She could eviscerate his enemies with her words all she wanted; anything physical, if it came to that, would be left to him no matter how feisty she got, and she could get real feisty. 

God, he loved her. 

He was no damsel in distress or princess trapped in a tower—he could take care of himself, but he didn’t have to anymore because he lucked out and got a knight in shining armor for a wife, and he was going to worship the ground she walked upon every damn day for the rest of his life. 

"Are y'all just gonna suck face or order some fucking drinks?" Steve asked. He must've turned his attention to the bartender. "Sorry about them. They got engaged this morning, and I swear they're stuck together with glue or some shit." 

He broke the kiss, turning to glare at Steve. 

"Congrats!" the large man behind the bar said. Blue light from a neon sign was reflecting off his bald head, and he had an impressive full handlebar mustache that put what Javier had going on to shame. With how big the man’s biceps were, he could probably benchpress Steve and Javier at the same time. "Let me see the ring." 

Cielito immediately held out her hand, and Javier’s chest puffed out a little. 

"That's a beauty." He looked between them both. "What can I get you two? On the house, in celebration this beautiful woman actually said yes to a guy with a face like yours." 

Javier's eyes narrowed, and his jaw ticked, Steve laughing beside him.

The guy grinned. "I'm joking! Thought you were gonna kill me with how you looked at me. You're a real handsome man—a pretty boy, and you’ll make some cute babies together." 

That had him going soft. "Thanks, man," he said. 

"No problem. Now, what can I get you?"

They ordered their drinks, Javier sticking to his usual, a whiskey, the bartender surprising him with some spendier stuff than he normally got. Cielito, on the other hand, ordered a drink he'd never heard of with an interesting name that, after she told him everything that was in it, turned out to basically be a blue Long Island ice tea or something that told him he was in for an interesting night. 

At the table, the Murphys were on one side while they were on the other with her pressed against him and his arm over her shoulders. 

"So, what are y'all’s plans for Christmas?" Connie asked before taking a sip of her colorful drink. 

"I'm working," his future wife answered. "It's a bummer since it's our first Christmas, and Javi has it off. We'll do most of our celebrating on Christmas Eve with his dad, and then when I get home from work on Christmas, we'll open presents." 

Connie looked sympathetic. "I know what it's like having to work on holidays. Sick people don't stop being sick for a day. Hopefully, next year, y’all will have it off together." 

“I sure hope we do.” 

And he hoped they’d have a baby by then. 

The four of them chatted while they sipped their drinks. Connie was interested in hearing if they had any plans for their wedding yet or an idea for their honeymoon, which they told her the truth of how they were hoping to have a small ceremony with his dad officiating at the ranch, followed by a big party with their friends and family they were invited to, and that their honeymoon was going to be on an island—they hadn't talked about it yet, they both just knew that's where they'd wanna go and shared a look when Javier had said it. 

When he finished his whiskey, he had a nice buzz and decided to go get a beer since he had to drive later that evening. 

His friends were telling Cielito funny tales about being parents, which she was enjoying.  

"I'm gonna go get another drink," he whispered in her ear. "You want anything?" 

She looked at him, and he could tell she was just as buzzed. "Can you see if they have fries or mozzarella sticks? I want food." 

"Okay, mi amor (my love)." He kissed her forehead. 

He got up from the table and made his way through people standing and past tables, unable to help himself from looking back over his shoulder to see Cielito watching him as she spoke to Steve and Connie.

Javier wasn't paying attention and ran into the back of someone. 

"Shit." He looked forward. "Sorry." It was the woman his fiancée had flipped off earlier, and her face shifted from anger to delight when she saw it was him. 

She turned around to face him and put a hand on his arm that he immediately shrugged off as she said, "I knew you'd come find me—" She leaned in close, and he could smell the booze on her breath. "—why don't you let me take you out back and we can do things that stuck up bitch you're here with wouldn't think of." 

He was already on edge, but that had anger flaring up inside of him. He stepped back from her with his eyes glaring, and when he spoke, his tone was icy enough to freeze the Sahara. “Don’t you fucking dare talk about my wife like that. She’s better than you in every fucking way, and I wouldn’t even look at you if you were the last woman on earth, let alone touch you—that woman—” He pointed behind him. “—is literal perfection, and I’m the luckiest man on this fucking planet because she’s with me. So, get it through your head. I’m not interested and very happily taken.” 

She looked mad. "You could've just told me no, you asshole." 

"You disrespected my wife and, in turn, disrespected me and lost any chance of me politely turning you down. Now get the fuck out of my way, my wife's hungry, and you've wasted enough of the time I could've been spending with her." 

She scoffed and moved, muttering ‘Fucking prick’ under her breath.

He paid attention this time when he continued walking to the bar and only turned to look toward their table when he reached his destination—"Shit," was said under his breath as he immediately booked it the way he came at the sight of Steve blocking the woman he loved from leaving their side of the booth as the blonde he’d told to fuck off backed away from their table with her middle finger raised.  

Connie was making her way toward him, meeting him halfway. "Thank god," she said, continuing to walk with him. "Your fiancée is gonna beat that woman's ass." 

"What happened?" 

"Well, she didn't care for the blonde talking to you, but when it was clear you were telling her to fuck off, she was fine. Then..."

He was at Connie's back as they pushed through people. 

"Then what?" 

"Then you apparently pissed off that woman enough she came over to our table to tell your girl she could keep you since you had no taste, were probably bad in bed, and some demeaning shit about your masculinity—I've never seen Steve move as fast as he did to get between the two of them, 'cause Javi, the look on your fiancée's face said she was ready to spend the night in jail." 

"Fuck, did you see where the blonde went?" 

He’d lost her in the crowd, his head turning to try and spot her.

"If she knows what's best for her, she left, but you need to calm your lady down." 

They were at the table, and Steve was standing with his arms crossed, swaying from side to side with how she was trying to get around him. 

"I just want to talk to her," she said. 

"You wanna do more than talk to her," Steve replied. 

"She deserves to be more than talked to."

Javier patted Steve's shoulder twice, and the other man glanced over to see it was him. 

"Hey, look who's back," Steve said, stepping to the side so Javier could take his place. 

Her face was scrunched in anger, and he crouched to be at eye level with her. He pressed his hand to her cheek. 

"Cielito, baby, it's okay," he said soothingly. "She's gone. Stop thinking about her. She doesn’t matter." 

“Not after what she said about you,” she seethed. 

"Let's get some air, mi amor (my love)." He stroked her face. "How drunk are you?" 

His eyes moved to her drink, which wasn't close to empty. 

"Buzzed—I didn't want to get drunk." 

He nodded. "Okay, come on, baby," he said, taking her hand firmly into his and getting her out of the seat. He leaned into Steve. "Thanks, man—I'm gonna take her outside for a bit so she can cool down. You guys enjoy yourselves. We'll be back."

"Sounds good." 

She was behind him as they weaved through people to the hallway leading to a back door. The corridor was empty, the music getting quieter and quieter the further they walked away from it and toward the fire door at the end of the hall, a red glowing 'Exit' sign hanging above it. 

Right before they got to where they were headed, there was a little alcove with unisex single-stall bathrooms across from each other and a janitor's closet between them. They passed it and were coming upon the back door when it suddenly opened—"Fuck," Javier said, coming face to face with the blonde. He spun around, immediately grabbing onto Cielito's hips, trying to turn her, too. "Other way." 

He knew the moment she spotted the other woman because she tried to push past him. 

"Hey, bitch!” Cielito shouted. “Say that shit to my face again!" That was a bad idea, and he put his arms around her waist, keeping her in front of him no matter how much she struggled. "Let me kick her ass, Javi!" He was forcing her to move backward. 

"No, baby," he grunted. "I'm not letting you get arrested. She’s not worth it." 

"I told you," the woman loudly slurred, "your husband is a shitty fuck and a pussy—look at this, he has you fighting for him!" 

His head turned. "Are you fucking serious, lady?" he asked her. 

The sound his fiancée made would best be described as a roar, and he had no choice but to haul her away with his arms around her middle while she thrashed in his hold and screamed some very creative profanity at the blonde—his favorite was ‘You stupid, fuckitty, fuck, fuck, fucking thundercunt bitch!’

He didn't think he could get her all the way back down the hall, so he took her into the one empty bathroom with the door cracked open, getting it shut and locked behind them.

What was he supposed to do now? He needed to get her mind off the confrontation or, better yet, make her forget about the whole thing. 

He did the one thing he knew would distract her, crushing his mouth to hers, muffling her surprised sound. His large palm was cupping her cheek, his other holding her hip, as he guided her some steps to press her back against the sink on the wall opposite the door. When his tongue swiped along her bottom lip, asking for entry, she opened, and he eagerly delved inside to tangle his muscle with her own, tasting some notes from her drink—tequila, gin, blue curaçao, sour mix. 

Her fingers were on his chest, and where once it was to push out of his hold, now she had his shirt clutched in her fists, trying to pull him closer. The first moan he earned from her made him smile into their filthy kiss that was nothing more than a practiced dance of their tongues sliding along each other. 

Blood was rushing to his groin, feeling himself beginning to harden, and he wasn't sure if this would be enough to get her mind off of what had happened—they were alone, someplace semi-private, all he'd need to do is pull down those jean shorts, turn her around and slip his cock into the wet heat of her pussy and he knew he was a good enough fuck to make her forget that other woman even existed. 

When they needed to take a breath, he nipped at her bottom lip, his mouth making a path of kisses along the line of her jaw until he was at her ear, letting his hot, hard breaths fan against it, causing her to shiver. 

"Let me make you feel good," he rasped. His hand on her hip moved to palm at the front of her bottoms, where she was extra warm. "Let me make you forget, Cielito—I’ll fuck you nice and hard. I'll make those pretty eyes roll back, and the dick will be so good, I’ll have you drooling. Can I make it all better? Make you forget?" 

“Babe, no amount of good dick is gonna make me forget about what that fucking twatwaffle said—and it’s absolutely on sight if I see her stupid, jealous bottle blonde ass again.”

His nose nudged into her ear. “Is that a no or a challenge?”

“It’s a—“ She ground against his hand. “—I’ve always fantasized about you fucking me in a bar, so I’m down for a quickie, but it’s not gonna make me stop being angry.”

He smiled and kissed her cheek. “A challenge then.”

Her eyebrow rose as he looked her in the eyes. "You really think you're that good?" 

He smirked. "Look at who you're talking to. I know I'm that good, and I'll make you so fucking cock dumb you'll forget that spiteful woman even exists." His hands went to the front of her shorts, quickly popping the button and pulling down the zipper. "Now be a good girl for me and don't make a sound no matter how good it feels—I don't want us getting kicked out. Steve would be so fucking annoying about it." 

She palmed over his half-hard dick, and it made his mouth go slack, her eyes darkening. "He would," she said. "I'll try to be quiet." 

"You will be quiet, or I stop." 

Her eyes went a little wide. "Sexy Star Wars," she whispered. 

"What?" 

"It's like the sexy version of the line Yoda says in Empire, 'Do or do not, there is no try.' I either will or will not be quiet, there won’t be any trying—I make noise, and you'll withhold the dick." To end the sentence, she lightly squeezed his cock. 

He huffed out an amused breath. 

"I love you." Leaning in, he kissed her. When he pulled back, he said, "But I can't believe we're about to fuck and you're thinking about Star Wars." 

She looked at him madly, and he wondered what he said wrong. "I'm sorry, what you said reminded me of a line and that I don't happen to be the king of dirty talk, unlike some people." 

"King of dirty talk?" 

"You, Javier, and I'm just a fucking mood killer." 

He needed to get things back on track, and clearly, he accidentally upset her—he knew just what to do. 

"Stop it," he told her and took her face into his hands, smashing his lips to hers in a hard kiss.

It was one of those kisses where she was a little disoriented afterward and hungry for more—wanting his hands on her, to feel his cock inside her, more of his mouth on hers—it was a kiss that made her greedy and grabby, and she definitely got his pants undone to get the hard, hot shaft of his cock into her palm, languidly stroking him. 

He slid his hand into her panties, slipping two fingers through her slit to find her cunt wet and slick enough to take him. 

“Fuck, baby,” he murmured into her lips. His mouth moved to rasp in her ear. “I haven’t even touched this perfect pussy, and you’re soaked—it turns you on to know I’m gonna fuck you in here?” Her answer was a moan. “—It turns you on that if we’re not quiet enough, someone could hear how good I make you feel?” 

The pads of his digits were swirling around her perky little clit. 

“Yes,” the word was a gasp, and he smiled. 

“My dirty fucking girl—I bet you want people to hear us—you want everyone to know this pussy is mine—” He cupped it in his palm. “—and I’m the best fuck you’ve ever had.” 

She’d told him as much on many occasions. 

Her hand left his pants to make him look at her with a tug of his hair, her eyes dark and face serious. 

“I want that stupid bitch to hear you giving it to me so good she leaves the bar crying out of pure jealousy.” 

And she was still angry at the blonde. She was going to make him work for it, and he was ready for the challenge.

License plates from different states and countries, some old and beat up, others newer, lined the top half of the walls in colorful metal stripes, the lower portion painted black; a decent-sized mirror was over the wall-mounted white porcelain sink, the toilet beside it, and a hand air dryer hanging near them—most notably, Javier had room to work in since the space wasn’t cramped at all. 

Wasting no time, he shoved her shorts and underwear down, spinning her around to face the mirror and sink, and he took a couple of steps back, bringing her with him. 

He looked at them both in the mirror with his head beside hers, pressing his lips to her ear, and eyes locked on one another's. “I know you want her to hear,” he whispered, “but I’m gonna need you to be quiet.” He rubbed her bare hips. “Promise me that no matter how fucking good it feels, you’ll keep those pretty noises I love to a minimum.” 

She gulped. “I promise, even though I think we should just go for it and be that couple.” 

He smiled. “The couple that doesn’t care and has noisy sex in a bar bathroom? You get brave when you’re pissed off.” He kissed her jaw under her ear. “And no, we’re gonna be quiet.” 

Getting kicked out at minimum and arrested at worst didn’t sound like a good time to him. 

She pouted, and it made him chuckle. 

“This isn’t something you would’ve done before me,” he said as he shimmied his jeans down his thighs to free himself. He took his dick in hand, giving it a few strokes. “I’ve created a monster.” He needed to make sure he was nice and slick, so he spit on his fingers and used them to lube himself up. 

“A horny monster—stick it in.” She wiggled her behind. 

He kicked her feet apart. "A fucking impatient monster—bend forward, hands on your knees," he ordered, lightly pushing on her spine, and she did as he said, sticking her ass out. It only took him seconds to notch at her opening and push right in, her hot, tight walls hugging him all the way down to the hilt. 

The first, initial thrust was always his favorite when they both couldn’t help the soft sounds that escaped their throats and the heat of her cunt giving way and enveloping him, Javier fitting inside her so snugly, he thought his cock had to be just the right size for her—not, too big, not too small, simply perfect.

It gave credence to the fact he was made for her. 

He knew he had big hands, yet he loved how perfectly they held her smaller ones. Their lips fit together like two matching puzzle pieces snapping together. His arms were long enough to hold her close to him. 

They were two halves of a whole that managed to find each other on a planet with billions of people—he found his media naranja (soulmate), and right this second, he was going to fuck away all of the negative shit that had happened tonight, because he loved her more than life itself, and wanted her to enjoy the rest of her night. 

This was going to be quick and dirty, hard and rough. 

His hands were gripping her hips as he pulled out almost all the way and slammed back in, tugging her ass back when he thrusted forward to penetrate as deep as possible. Her back arched, and on the next stroke, a choked noise came from her, and he knew his dick was pressing in just right to hit that spot that made her pussy weep uncontrollably and her thighs tremble. 

He set a punishing pace that had his hips slamming into her from behind with a smack of skin against skin, and it so was so wet where they were joined, he could hear his cock working in and out of her, soft moans spilling past her lips, while he grunted, sweat forming on his brow and down his spine.

If someone were to put their ear to the door, they'd know exactly what was going on—hell, there was a chance the rhythmic beat of his thrusts were echoing loud enough to be heard out in the hall. 

The thought that people knew what they were doing had pleasure slicing through him like a knife's edge, ramping up what was already building in his gut. 

"Touch yourself," he said through his teeth. "Play with your pussy." 

With how she was fluttering, he knew she was close. 

She didn’t acknowledge he said anything or did as he ordered, and it had pride swelling in his chest that he was fucking her so good, she was lost in the pleasure and probably couldn’t even think a coherent thought. 

The bathroom’s lighting wasn’t the brightest, but when he looked down, he could see his dick shining in her arousal as it disappeared into her sopping cunt, in and out, with a wet suck; her asscheeks were spread enough her puckered hole was in his line of sight, tempting him to slip in the tip of his thumb inside, but he knew that’d trip her up with how far gone she was, and he didn’t want to ruin her orgasm. 

He knew one thing he could do that’d get her attention and keep her going, though. 

There was a chance your legs were going to give out with how they were trembling; the tight walls of your pussy were hugging his cock that filled you perfectly, making you feel full, each thrust hitting that spot that had stars dancing behind your closed eyelids.

The way he was pounding into you made it to where you couldn't think, not with how pleasure was coiling in your belly and making your skin vibrate. 

A hand came down hard on the side of your ass, the sweet sting causing your cunt to clench, and you gasped out a moan, realizing he was trying to get your attention because he said something you missed. 

"What?" You asked roughly since you'd been doing everything in your power to hold back your noises, your nails digging into the skin of your knees. 

"Touch yourself," he gritted out, his pace not wavering. "Make yourself come." 

You slid a hand between your legs, going low enough to spread your fingers around where he was fucking into you, feeling how his cock was drenched in your juices and your pussy stretched around him. With your digits wet, you moved them to circle the swollen bud of your clit, and it had heat starting to tighten in your belly. 

Your mouth fell open at the combined sensations, all of it rocketing you toward your release, making it hard to keep quiet when it felt so fucking good—soft whimpers were leaving your mouth as you lost your mind. 

There was no way anyone outside the door didn't know what was going on in here, not with how the slap of his hips echoed in the small room and Javi grunted behind you—he probably didn't even realize how much noise he was making. 

His hands had a death grip on your waist as he pulled you back on his cock with each thrust, and it had him going so deep you were pretty sure if he went any deeper, he'd be in your stomach. Your eyes were rolled back, and you weren’t embarrassed to admit you were drooling a little. 

How did you end up bent over and getting fucked within an inch of your life in a bar bathroom?

This was something you’d wanted to happen for a long time, and even though Javi was generally adventurous and risky in terms of places he’d have sex, he had turned down all of the times you tried at the bar back home—the closest you got was him fingering you under the table while you sat beside each other in a booth, but that was it. 

The coil inside you was close to snapping with how tightly it was wound, and it didn’t take much to have you falling over the edge—there was the excitement of Javi railing your brains out in a semi-public location, the need to be quiet, your friends at the table oblivious to what you were doing, and the actual act itself; your fingers on your clit and his hard dick pistoning in and out of you that finally had you cresting. Your body tensed up tight as you came, and you must’ve made too much noise because Javi turned on the hand dryer with one hand and leaned over to cover your mouth with the other. 

Pleasure spread through your body and out to your limbs while air blew loudly. Javi pulled you up to lean back against his chest with your head on his shoulder, his lips kissing your neck while his mustache tickled you. 

"Good girl," he said against the shell of your ear. "Can I come?" 

His palm had moved off your face. "Yes." Your hand went behind you and into his sweaty, damp hair. "Use me—come inside me." 

What you didn’t expect was him pulling out of you—and you were only left to guess what he was doing for a second before he crouched behind you, roughly tugging down your jean shorts to your ankles, getting one of your shoed feet out of a leg. 

He groaned as he stood up, and you gasped in surprise when you found yourself getting pushed with your back against the wall and a man immediately in your space, pulling your leg up on his hip. Javi wasted no time to sheath himself back inside you, his mouth colliding with yours to muffle your moan; his fingers dug into your thigh, bracketing his waist, his free hand snaking its way up your shirt, pulling down your bra cup to massage your breast in his large palm. 

His rhythm was hard and fast, making your body jolt with every steady thrust, his breaths coming out labored, and your fingers in his hair. He was chasing his high, and you were happily going along for the ride. 

The dryer had stopped, and you pulled his head back to make him look at you, his eyes more black than brown, glazed over, and heavy-lidded, his lips slightly parted and glistening, sweat coating his brow, hair sticking wetly to his forehead. It was rude how he always looked so hot during sex—even when he was coming, especially when he was coming. 

“Come for me, Javi,” you said, pressing a hand to his cheek. “Fill me up, baby.”

“I will,” his voice was strained. “I said I was gonna keep you stuffed with my come today, and I am.” He was talking about your rendezvous at a hotel that morning when he promised to fuck you as many times as you’d let him to keep you full—this was number four. “I’m gonna fill you to the fucking brim, baby—fuck—” His eyes squeezed shut. “—we keep up like this, and you actually will be pregnant when we get married.” 

The thought thrilled you. You moved his head forward to your shoulder and got your lips close to his ear. You whispered, “You’d love that—me already being pregnant when you make me your wife. You want that, Javi?” you purred. “You gonna fuck a baby into me?” 

“Fuck,” he groaned, his strokes speeding up. His hand squeezed your breast. “I want you pregnant,” he grunted. “I wanna get you pregnant. I wanna see you pregnant with the bigger tits and the belly. You’re gonna look so fucking sexy.” His pace was getting jerky. “God, I love you. I love you so fucking much. You’re perfect. You’re amazing. You’re gonna be my wife.” He was rambling, so you knew he was close. “You’re gonna have my children. You love me.”  He sounded wrecked, pushing his face into your neck. “You love me.” The words were muffled and followed by a ragged moan as he pushed in all the way to the root and came, feeling his cock jerk hard and the warm, wet pulse as he filled your inner depths. 

His hot breaths were panting against your skin, and like always, you pressed your fingers into his hair, and he slumped into you. 

“There’s no falling asleep, mister,” you said. 

“‘M not, jus need a sec,” he mumbled. 

“Uh-huh, one sec, and next thing I know, you’re snoring.” 

He sighed. “It happ’n’d one time.” 

“That’s a damn dirty lie, and you know it.”

His head came up to look at you with a frown. 

“Don’t I deserve one minute to get my head straight after giving you some amazing dick?” 

“Of course, you deserve a minute—you deserve five minutes, but babe, we’re kinda, sorta, not really in a situation where we can lollygag and luxuriate in the post-sex goodness. Like, I would love to cuddle with you right now. There’s literally nothing more I want to do. However, we are in a bar bathroom with your dick inside me, and our friends are probably wondering where the fuck we are.” 

This sigh was long, and he visibly deflated. 

“I’m getting really fucking tired of not being able to fuck like we normally do,” he grumbled. 

You cupped his cheeks. “You’re spoiled rotten—we’re on a trip. What were you expecting?” 

“That we’d be able to fool around at night, but Steve decided to be a fucking prick and ruined the guest bed.” 

“We have our floor mattress.” 

He was pouting. “Can’t make too much noise.” 

“But isn’t that fun?” 

“The first time, yes.” 

“Spoiled. You’re gonna have to tell her.” 

He looked confused. “What?” 

“You’re gonna have to break it to Connie that next time we visit, we’re getting a hotel room because, one, we can’t go too long without fucking, and two, you’re accustomed to sex a certain way that when you don’t get it how you like it, you become a big ‘ol grouch.”

“I can’t do that to her. It’d upset her.” 

“Then you’re gonna have to get used to making compromises. We better clean up and get going.” You started to move, but he stopped you. 

“Wait.” 

“Yes?” 

His eyes went a little bigger. “I love you.” 

“I love you, too.” 

“I’m gonna say some sappy bullshit.” 

You giggled. “Thank you for the warning—go for it.” 

He smiled. “This is what I was thinking about when you told me not to fall asleep.” He pressed a hand over his heart. “Te pertenezco como la luna le pertenece a las estrellas—uno no existe sin el otro (I belong to you like the moon belongs to the stars—one does not exist without the other).” 

Oh, nutting put him in his feelings. He did get incredibly romantic after coming. It was probably allowing himself to be so vulnerable. 

“—Cuando estoy perdido y llega la oscuridad, tú eres mi estrella brillante que permanece a mi lado y me guía a casa (When I’m lost and the darkness comes, you are my shining star that stays by my side and guides me home). Te pertenezco (I belong to you). No soy nada sin ti (I am nothing without you). Estaría perdido en la oscuridad sin ti (I’d be lost in the dark without you). Tienes todo mi amor y devoción (You have all of my love and devotion). Haré cualquier cosa por ti (I will do anything for you). Y cuando tengamos hijos, también haré cualquier cosa por ellos porque tú eres mi vida (And when we have children, I will also do anything for them because you are my life). Te amo, mi Cielito (I love you, my Cielito). Gracias por amarme (Thank you for loving me).” 

And with that, he leaned in and kissed you, putting in all of that love and devotion he had for you, making you feel it with every press of his lips. 

Afterward, you quickly righted your clothes and cleaned up, forcing Javi to stare at the door as you peed and him not caring one single bit if you looked while he went—you didn’t. 

Once you both looked presentable, he took your hand and led you out of the bathroom, where there was a small line of people waiting to use the restrooms, who either glared or leered at you both as you walked by, which you tried to ignore. 

Back at the table, Steve and Connie looked very cozy on their side of the booth, with his arm around her shoulders and her tucked into his side as they laughed about something. Javi let you scoot into your seat first. 

“Hey, you’re back!” Connie said, and she looked like she was feeling good. 

“We are!” you replied. 

“Are you feeling better?” she asked. 

Javi was sitting close enough to you that you were touching, and he wrapped his arms around your middle, resting his head on your shoulder, or he was acting like a giant cat who wanted your attention. Your arm went across your body to play with his hair. 

It took you a second to answer Connie’s question because you didn’t know what she meant—you felt fantastic. 

“Oh!” It finally came to you, the whole altercation with that woman, and frankly, you didn’t care about it anymore. “I’m feeling much better, thank you,” you answered. 

“That’s good.” 

“Con,” Steve started, “tell them what happened.” 

“What happened?” you asked. 

Connie was clearly excited to tell you both the gossip. “So,” she said, leaning closer toward the table, “a little bit after y’all left, the blonde apparently had a death wish or was drunk as a skunk and was all over another woman’s man on the dance floor, which ended in a fight the blonde did not win and got her kicked out.” 

“It’s what she deserved.” 

“That’s not all—well, about the blonde, that’s all, but I have more to tell y’all.” 

“Okay.” 

“The other thing that happened was I went to go use the bathroom, and there was a couple fucking in the other one.” Your eyes widened, and Javi went still. “They were so loud,” she continued, “and really going at it—I don’t think they realized the music doesn’t make it down that hall and those bathrooms echo. We could just hear—” She clapped her hands to the same beat Javi was railing, and you cringed each time, wanting to crawl in a hole and die. Thankfully, she finally stopped. “—and grunting. I couldn’t make out if they were saying anything.” 

Thank god. 

“Wow,” you chuckled nervously. “That’s so embarrassing. Who does that? Who thinks it’s a good idea to fuck in a bar bathroom? I know, I wouldn’t—I’m a privacy of a bedroom kinda girl.” 

Steve’s eyes narrowed, and you knew you fucked up. 

“Javier Peña,” the other man hissed. “Are you fucking serious?” 

The man accused sat up, pressing fingers to his forehead. “We ran into the blonde at the back door, and my amazing future wife was on a fucking warpath, so I had to do something to get her mind off it.” 

“And that something was getting your dick wet in a public bathroom?”

Javi’s hand fell, and he glared at Steve. “What would you have done if it was Connie? Would you have let her fight a woman for you or done something you knew would make her forget, even if it was risky?”

Steve seemed to be thinking it over. 

“There was no way of getting her home?”

“Steve, I practically had to carry her into that bathroom with how she was screaming and trying to go after the other woman.” Heat was creeping up your neck in embarrassment. “I didn’t have much choice.”

“If it was a last resort, then yeah, I would’ve done the same.”

“That’s so romantic,” Connie said, and her husband looked at her with a smile. 

“You really think that’s romantic?” he asked. “I’d do anything for you, baby. Even if it’d send me to jail.”

Javi’s head turned, and so did yours to meet his eyes, the look on his face screaming, ‘Can you believe this fucking guy?’ 

The other couple were whispering amongst themselves. 

Your fiancé leaned in. “He’s judgemental one minute, then his wife thinks it’s cute, and suddenly he’s Mr. I’d-Do-It-For-You.”

“Javi?” You rubbed a hand over his shirt-covered chest.

“Yeah?”

“I know it’s annoying as fuck, but I want you to think about the fact we’ve probably had more sex in the last two days than they’ve had the entire year.”

He looked horrified, his head snapping in their direction. 

“Steve, Con,” he said, getting their attention. “We’re best friends. Be honest with me, with work and the kids, how many times have you fucked in the last year?”

The couple looked at each other and seemed to be counting in their heads. 

“I can only think of five times where we actually got through it uninterrupted,” Connie said. “Add maybe an extra two incompletes.”

“Yeah,” Steve confirmed. “I’m counting five, too.”

Javi checked his watch, then moved forward to get his wallet out of his back pocket. He opened it, pulling out two bills. 

“Merry Christmas,” he said, passing over a couple of hundred dollar bills. “Go rent a hotel room for the night and check out late. We’re gonna watch the kids until you’re back tomorrow.”

“You’re sweet, Jav,” Connie replied, “but we can’t—that’s too much.”

“Like hell, it’s too much,” Steve said, picking up the money. “We have to remodel because of this asshole, and I’m not looking a gift horse in the mouth. Let’s go, honey—we’ve just been offered an opportunity that’s not gonna come back around until he visits again.” The blonde man was already out of his seat and holding his hand out to his wife. 

“Thank you, Javi,” Connie told him as she scooted out with her purse. “Thank you, both. This is really nice of you.”

“Yeah, thanks, Jav,” Steve added, grabbing his wife’s hand and practically dragging her from the booth with quick goodbyes. 

Your future husband looked at you with worry. “We’re gonna fuck more than five times a year after we have kids, right?”

“Oh, yeah. See, the difference between us and them is we’re opportunistic and will do it just about anywhere. It might not be as frequent as we currently are, but we’ll still fuck regularly—I promise.” 

He held up his pinkie. “Pinkie promise,” he said seriously. 

You giggled, wrapping your pinkie around his larger one. “I cannot believe you want me to pinkie promise about our sex life.”

His forehead pressed to yours, and your eyes closed. 

“It’s a big enough deal that it warrants a pinkie promise. I love sex, not just because of how good it feels, but also the intimacy—my favorite part is afterward when I get to hold you in my arms and cool down.” A wistful sigh left him. “I haven’t gotten a lot of chances to do that while we’ve been here, and I, uh, miss it.” He took a deep breath. “What I’m saying is, I love spending that time with you naked, and honestly, we don’t even have to fuck. So, I just want you to pinkie promise me that after we have kids, we’ll put aside time for us to keep going on dates and having sex when we have the chance and cuddling naked.”

“I pinkie promise to that, but, babe?”

He pulled back to meet your gaze. 

“Yeah?”

“You’re gonna have to get used to quickies and come to terms with the fact we’re gonna get interrupted.”

“It sounds like we’ll need a reliable babysitter, and it just so happens our children will have an abuelo living three minutes down the road who will happily watch them.”

“We better get a headstart on making up excuses for why we need to leave the kids with him for two to three hours.” 

“Eh—” He shrugged. “—Pop and mi mamá used to leave me with mis abuelos y tías (my grandparents and aunts) so they could have time alone—he’ll know exactly why he was watching our kids.” 

You smiled. “The apple doesn't fall far from the tree.” 

“Yeah, if things had gone differently, I probably would’ve had ten siblings.” 

“With your attitude toward Steve, who I consider your adopted brother, you’d be in hell with actual siblings. Well, your dad is getting the award for Father of the Year.” 

Javi grinned. “He gets that award every year.” 

“As he fucking should. Let’s get a plaque made to make it official. He’d get a kick out of it.” 

He had a thoughtful expression on his face, and it was like you could read his thoughts. 

You held his cheeks. “You’re gonna be an incredible father, Javi, and you’ll get a plaque, too—your dad will transition to Abuelo of the Year ‘cause, let's face it, he’s gonna be great at that, too.” 

“You’re sure?” 

“That you’ll be an incredible father? Oh, yeah. I’m positive. You’re gonna knock it out of the park! I’ve honestly already come to terms with the fact the tiny humans I will grow inside me and birth are going to love you more, and I’m not upset about it at all—you deserve it.” You stroked your fingers through his hair. “I promise you, Javi, you’re going to be an amazing dad, and our kids are going to be obsessed with you—I pinky promise you that.” You held up your little finger, and his eyes were misty as he looped yours with his. 

“I love you,” he said. 

“I love you, too.” 

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Thank you for reading! If you’d like to be tagged in my fics, please fill out the form in my bio, on my masterlist, or just let me know! 

---

Learning to Live Part 29

summary: On your last day in Miami, Javier and you are tasked with babysitting the Murphy kids while their parents get some much needed alone time out of the house.

Back at home, it’s Javier’s birthday, and the two of you are on your way to meet Chucho for dinner when you run into someone who doesn’t know how to keep their stupid mouth shut.

rating: E (18+!! No y/n, alternating POV, age gap (about ten years), consensual somnophilia, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), creampie, breeding kink, semi-public sex, thigh riding, dirty talk, domestic fluff, babysitting, Javier being cute with kids, birthday celebration, death of a parent/grief, emotional hurt/comfort, Protective!Javier, Protective!Reader, verbal altercation, insults, not Lorraine friendly, small town drama, Chucho being the best father)

pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader

word count: 19.6k+

a/n: There’s something in this chapter we’ve been waiting for. Because the chapter is so long, it might not let you reblog with a comment. Since reblogs are important you’re more than welcome to reblog without a comment and then if you’d like to say something, you can either comment on the post or send me an ask. Unbeta’d because I wanted to post it this week, so all mistakes are mine. Thank you to @juletheghoul for making sure the Spanish makes sense!

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to know what you thought!

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It was warm, almost too warm, with the blankets over you and your human furnace of a bedmate cuddled at your back—his arm was draped over your middle with a hand up your shirt to hold your breast. The hazy dreamscape your mind had conjured was a beach you’d been to growing up with a giant sea stack in the ocean that rose over two hundred feet and was like a tiny rock mountain that you could walk right up to during low tide. As you strolled along the shore, ahead of you was a child who’d barely learned to walk with big, familiar, chocolate-colored eyes and messy brown hair in a shade you knew all too well, toddling beside a man you could recognize simply from the shape of his back, the broad shoulders down to the trim waist.

Their tiny arm was raised above their head while he was leaning a little to hold the small outstretched hand, his head turning with a smile to look at them with all of the love in the world—a baby’s cries sounded, and it had you worrying something was wrong with the toddler. Suddenly, everything in front of you disappeared, the fogginess of sleep dissipating as you were brought to by the noises coming from a baby monitor nearby that continued to worry you.

The arm around you tightened, and lips kissed the back of your head.

"I'll get him," Javi's voice was deeper and rougher from sleep. He kissed your head once more before moving to get out of the bed, hearing him groan and his knees pop as he stood from the mattress that was on the floor.

A sleepy smile appeared on your face as you thought about what a good father and husband he was—there wasn’t any annoyance in his tone, and he didn’t sound put out. He was happy to check on the baby and let you get some rest. You were lucky to have such a great partner who cared so much and took an active role in being a parent.

He was a keeper.

He was perfect.

There wasn’t anyone else you’d want to have a child with.

You were so happy your baby had such a wonderful father.

Your baby—wait, what was their name?

Why were you drawing a blank?

How could you forget your kid’s name?

Oh god, you were a horrible mother.

Hold on.

The cogs in your brain were turning now that the dreamy haze had lifted.

You didn't have a baby.

Javi wasn't your husband… yet.

You were at the Murphys, and the toddler crying was their one-year-old, Nate. Your fiancé had volunteered you both to take care of Steve and Connie’s three kids while they had a much-needed night alone at a hotel.

Throwing back the blankets, you moved to get up from the bed, it only taking you a moment to find your sleep shorts on the floor, you pulled on over your bare lower half and made your way barefooted out of the room.

Why were you getting up when Javi told you to keep sleeping? Why did you feel the need to go peek into the room he was in? You weren't entirely sure, your feet padding along the cool stone-tiled floor almost of their own accord.

Nate's door was open, and you didn’t hear crying anymore. Stopping at the doorway, you leaned against the wooden frame to take in the scene before you that made you smile.

The room was softly illuminated by a nightlight plugged into the wall near the crib that had the purple dinosaur Barney on it—Javi was just in his jeans, his chest bare, cradling and rocking the one-year-old in his arms and singing so softly it took you a second to recognize the tune.

It was ABBA.

And it was the song he got the 80s cover band at the bar you'd gone to that night to play by tipping them an amount of money he refused to disclose to you.

Your ears had perked and you were able to make out the words.

He was hum-singing it in a pitch a little higher than his usual low timbre:

"Don't go wasting your emotion

Lay all your love on me

Don't go sharing your devotion

Lay all your love on me."

He hadn't noticed there was an audience, and you were enjoying watching him putting the baby back to sleep, Nate's eyes getting droopier and droopier until they were completely shut.

It made you wonder what songs he'd sing to your future kids, imagining some of his mother's favorite Spanish ballads you listened to on the radio and Fleetwood Mac, probably some classic lullabies too, like “Rockabye Baby” and “You Are My Sunshine.”

Javi's head turned your way, his eyes looking tired, but he smiled and kept singing until the song was finished and he was sure the baby was back asleep, moving to gently put him in his crib. That was when you decided to walk into the room, your arms looping around his middle from the side. His arm went behind your back, and he kissed your hair.

"I told you I'd take care of him," he whispered. "You didn't need to get up."

"Oh, I wasn't gonna miss a chance to see a glimpse of my future," you replied just as quietly. "And I’m happy I got up and had the chance to hear you put the baby back to sleep with ABBA—you know, it really gets me going seeing you doing dad stuff, and then you chose that song? Talk about making a girl yearn for the day we have our own babies, and you did an excellent job getting him to fall back asleep."

"I can’t wait for our own babies, too.” He hugged you a little closer to him. “Connie mentioned the last few weeks Nate’s been waking up in the middle of the night with separation anxiety—it's common with babies his age."

Nate turned one the month prior.

"Awe, poor guy."

"Yeah, he's okay now." Javi reached into the crib and pressed his large palm to the child's wild black curls. "Dulces sueños, mi precioso (Sweet dreams, my precious)." He looked at you. "Let's go back to bed, mi amor (my love). The kids will be up early."

Watching him put Nate back to sleep and his gentle care had you going so soft you thought you might turn into a puddle. His last sentence made you smile because one day, he’d say that in regard to your own children—god, you were yearning so hard for your future with him.

"Early to you or early to me?"

If you had the day off, you wanted to sleep until at least nine in the morning. Javi's idea of sleeping in was waking up at six-thirty instead of six because he was a—you hated saying it—a morning person.

"Early to you,” he answered.

"Great, more morning people."

He huffed in amusement and started walking with you out of the room with your hands held, continuing to whisper. "From my experience, young children like to get up early."

You were in the hallway, and he quietly closed Nate's door behind you both. "What I'm hearing is you're volunteering to take mornings with our kids since you'll already be up."

"That was my plan, yes," he said as you returned to the guest room. "Just makes sense."

Once inside, the door was shut and locked, neither of you bothering to turn on the overhead light, instead carefully making your way in the dark to the bed. Javi took off his pants before he crawled onto the mattress naked, and you shimmied out of your shorts as you got under the warm blankets.

He scooted over beneath the covers until his body was spooning yours from behind, his arm going around your shirt-covered tummy, feeling his nose in the hair at the back of your head.

"Why are you wearing this?" he asked, pulling on your t-shirt.

Javi was against wearing clothes to bed, and you found out he even slept in the nude while visiting other people’s houses.

"So, I'm not completely naked if the children wake up and need us,” you said. “All I have to do is get up and put on my bottoms."

The frown was clear in his voice. "The door is locked, and it only takes a second to put it back on—can you take it off for now? Please?"

"Have we discussed how spoiled you are?" you asked as you sat up and started pulling off the apparent bane of Javier's existence—he leaned up and tugged it over your head, tossing it into the dark void of the room.

"I'm not spoiled," he said, cuddling close into you once you laid back down, his arm back over your belly.

"You're incredibly spoiled—you always get what you want, not to mention you basically have pussy on demand. Spoiled."

You didn't have to see his face to know he was smiling. "It just sounds like I'm living the fucking dream. And pot calling the kettle black, Cielito—the same could be said for you, too. I spoil the hell out of you, and you better know my dick is yours whenever you want it." To punctuate the sentence, he ground his hips into your ass.

"Fine, we're both spoiled,” you acquiesced. “But you're needier."

"I'm not needy,” he denied.

"You couldn't go one night in bed without me naked."

"I sleep best being able to feel you."

"Well, you got your wish." You patted his arm around you. "Now, go to sleep, babe. Wake me up when the kids wake up."

He was already falling asleep, his answer an affirmative hum. “Love you,” he mumbled, nuzzling his face into your hair.

“I love you, too.”

It wasn't hard to fall back to sleep, not when your previous two days had started before the sun had risen, and everything that had taken place on the trip—traveling, meeting and spending time with the Murphys, getting engaged, the hours spent fucking in a hotel, going to the beach, almost fighting a woman in a bar. It seemed like you closed your eyes, and not even a minute later, the Sandman was whisking you away to the land of dreams.

An hour passed.

Two.

Three.

Four.

It was deep sleep that had you under its spell, physically keeping your body in the guest room while the dream transported you back home to your living room, where you were alone with Javi on the couch, straddling his lap and lazily kissing him.

Something warm and wet and felt so good it reached you in your foggy dreamscape, had the scene shifting suddenly, where you found yourself on your back, missing the clothes on your lower half, seeing the brown hair of your fiancé’s head buried between your legs.

There were the delicious sensations of tingles racing up your spine and pleasure building in your core as your nipples tightened—a soft moan of his name escaped your lips, the image before you fuzzy around the edges, keeping you on the cusp between asleep and awake.

You were gonna come, your cunt beginning to pulse, and the muscles in your belly coiling, winding tight, Dream Javi’s mouth feeling so real on your clit, licking and sucking on the sensitive bud. Warmth had spread through your veins, your body hot at being so turned on.

His tongue was working its magic, and you weren’t even surprised at how quickly he was getting you close to your end.

The pleasure kept building higher and higher until you hit your peak, and you were coming, the sudden explosion of euphoria coursing out from your center waking you up with a long, shuddering moan, your body tensing, and your heart racing.

Confusion had come over you at being awake and still feeling a wet tongue lapping at your pussy, and it took a second for you to realize your legs were spread with someone between them beneath the covers. It was too dark to see the lump under the blankets, but when you reached, you could feel the hardness of a skull at the apex of your thighs.

“Javi?” It came out as more of a croak.

He hummed in acknowledgment with his lips wrapped around your swollen clit, and your confusion was replaced with burning-hot arousal.

He'd woken you up by going down on you—which was something you'd given him permission to do months ago; you'd given him permission to do a whole lot more to wake you up, but Javier was big on explicit consent, and there were some lines he couldn't bring himself to cross, which was sweet, and showed what a stand-up guy he was.

And you loved that he was a Consent King; however, you happened to be a horny bitch that fantasized about him fucking you awake.

You should mention Javi also gave you permission to wake him up by the same means, and the first time he woke to you slowly riding his dick, he came in record-breaking time.

Him waking you with his mouth on your cunt was kind of a big deal and a testament to the trust you had in each other; plus, it was fucking amazing—forget alarm clocks; you always wanted your mornings to start with orgasms.

"Oh, god," you moaned, pushing the bedding down to uncover your torso and his head, the chill air welcome on your heated skin. "It's so good, Javi." It was wet and slippery between your thighs, your pussy throbbing and feeling achingly empty. Your fingers went into his mess of hair. "Baby, I'm so horny. Can I please have your dick?"

He came off you, moving up your body, his wet lips kissing over the skin of your belly and chest, up the column of your throat to your mouth, smelling your musk in his damp mustache as he kissed you. His hips took their place in the cradle of your thighs, snaking his hand between your bodies to line the tip of his hard cock with your soaked entrance, pushing all the way in with one smooth thrust that stole your breath.

The orgasm had loosened you up, making it easier for your inner walls to stretch and accommodate his girth, easing the empty ache to feel wonderfully full.

He held himself up with his arms beside your head, your hands moving to dig your fingers into his shoulders.

His lips left yours. "Did you like it?" he asked his tone a deep rasp. "Waking up by coming on my tongue?"

He had started slowly moving, his dick sliding almost all of the way out and pushing back in.

"Yes," you gasped.

"You were moaning in your sleep and got so fucking wet." Another orgasm was starting to form in your center.

"Was dreaming about you."

His cock twitched hard inside you. "Shit," he hissed. His pace sped up, hearing the wet sounds of him working in and out of you. He pressed his nose against your cheek, his breaths coming out heavier. "I didn't think it'd turn me on," he said. "But you were so fucking responsive, and when you moaned my name, it got me hard as a fucking rock that you were thinking about me in your sleep, and it made me feel like less of a creep."

Pleasure was curling inside you with every slick slide of him fucking into your cunt, but that last comment cut through your blissful haze.

“I wanted it,” you said. “Do you like it when you wake up to me blowing you or riding your dick?”

A loud, ragged groan pulled from his throat. “Yes.”

The two of you were so in tune with each other that when you made the movement to try and roll you both, Javi completed it to have him on his back with you on top, his cock staying nestled in your depths.

Your knees were bracketing his hips as you rose until only the tip of him remained and dropped back down, using your hands on his chest for leverage and keeping your rhythm steady and hard—up and down, over and over again. Javi's palms slid along your belly on a journey to your breasts, where he took them in hand, gently massaging them before his fingers zeroed in on your pebbled nipples, rolling and pinching them. It fanned the fire growing in your center, and you angled your hips to have him press into that magical spot that made it hard to think with how fucking good you felt.

There was a delay in you continuing the conversation. "It's the same for me," you panted. "I like waking up to you going down on me. I'd like waking up to you fucking me—I want it, and I don't want you feeling bad."

"I'll try.” His words were strained. “Fucking love your tits—wish I could see you bouncing on my dick.” It was too dark in the room. “Wait, what time is it?”

"What?"

"What time is it?" he asked again.

You looked at the red glowing numbers on the alarm clock located above you on the bedside table.

"6:32."

"Shit."

He pulled you forward, his arms going around your back, and rolled you both to your original position with him over you, moving your legs up high on his ribs. "We don't have much time—touch yourself."

He began slowly rocking in and out of you, speeding up little by little.

Your eyebrows furrowed. "Don't have much time?" you asked. "What?"

"The kids will be up any second, and I want us both to get off, so I need you to rub that pretty little clit for me."

Oh, right, the children.

The children you were watching.

The children you volunteered to watch and now held the power to cockblock you both.

The Murphy children.

"Shit," you said, getting your hand in between your bodies and locking your ankles against his lower back, feeling his muscles move beneath your calves. "Harder." The pads of your fingers were circling your bundle of nerves just the way you liked while Javi did as you asked, pounding into you hard enough your body was jostling, and you could hear the clap of his hips hitting yours.

The heat in your belly was getting hotter, Javi's lips sloppily kissing along your jaw and chin to claim your mouth with his, a thin layer of sweat coating both of your bodies.

"Need you to come for me." The sentence was muffled into your lips. "Need to feel it—let me have another, Cielito."

Pleasure was building inside you, every push and pull of his hips and swirl of your fingers getting you closer and closer to your sweet release.

He had you moaning into his mouth as he kissed you, Javi grunting, and you could hear how wet it was where you were joined.

His face pressed into your neck, his hot, heavy breaths fanning against your skin, your fingernails digging into his shoulder blades hard enough to leave crescent moon indents.

You were almost there.

"'M close," you said.

He put all of his weight onto one arm beside your head, and his free hand went to your breast, pinching and teasing your hardened nipple with his fingers—it had a current shooting directly to your clit, making you moan loudly.

"Come on, baby," Javi gritted through his teeth. "Give it to me—come all over my dick, and I'll fuck you full of me. I know you want it." He was moving faster, and you could tell he was close. "I know you want me to fuck a baby into you. Give me another, and I’ll give it to you."

"Yes," you gasped, clutching his back with one hand for something to hold onto as you fell over the edge and came, your cunt seizing up around him tight enough it stuttered his rhythm, and a rumbling groan erupted from his chest. Pleasure radiated out from your core, spreading to the tips of your fingers and toes, your mind going blissfully blank, your eyes closed, panting hard.

“Good girl,” he said, kissing low on your cheek. “My good fucking girl—god, I fucking love you.”

The second you relaxed, Javi was focusing on his own high, his nose pressed to the skin of your neck, hearing and feeling his heavy breaths as he pistoned into you. It was wetter between your legs, the sound of his cock working in and out of you amplified, and the suck of your pussy more pronounced.

He felt so good inside you, your hands moving to press into the sweat-damp waves of his hair.

"Let me have it, Javi." You scratched at his scalp, and he whimpered. "I want it, baby—come for me. Fuck it deep."

"I'm gonna give it to you," he grunted. "Te daré lo que quieras (I'll give you whatever you want)—Te conseguiré la pinche luna (I'll get you the fucking moon). Te daré el pinche mundo (I'll give you the fucking world)." His strokes were getting jerky. "Te daré tantos niños como quieras (I'll give you as many kids as you want). Haré cualquier cosa por ti (I'll do anything for you). Soy tuyo (I'm yours)—Siempre seré tuyo (I'll always be yours). Te amo (I love you). Te amo (I love you). Te amo (I love you)..." The last word turned into a strangled moan, Javi pressing himself all the way to the hilt deep inside you, the tip of himself kissing your womb as he came. There was the hard jerk of his dick, and you felt the warm spurts of his come filling you, his hips continuing to rock like he was trying to make sure he didn't leave any nook or cranny empty, wanting you to be completely stuffed.

The weight of him collapsing on you was familiar and welcome, stroking your fingers through his hair while he caught his breath in the crook of your neck.

One of the two baby monitors crackled to life, hearing a small, tired voice calling out for their mom—it was Stevie, the three-year-old.

Javi immediately moved to get up, giving you a quick kiss and making pained groans as he got to his feet.

"I've got him," he said, heading for the en suite. He turned on the bathroom light, your eyes squinting at the brightness and getting a glimpse of his naked back and bare ass before he disappeared behind the closed door—you sighed wistfully.

The water pattering told you he'd turned on the shower, and he must've gone in while it was still cold because it was turned off after only a couple of minutes had passed.

This had to be a record for how quickly he was going through getting ready.

You'd heard the sink run and knew he brushed his teeth, and when he came out with just a towel around his waist, his wet hair had been combed, but he hadn't bothered doing his regular styling.

"Cover your eyes," he said.

Your hands went over your eyes, and he flicked the switch for the overhead light.

"Do you want help?" you asked.

You heard him over in his duffle bag, pulling out clothes.

"With the kids? I can handle them on my own if you want to sleep in."

The sounds told you he was putting on a pair of jeans.

"I'm not gonna sleep while you wrangle the children by yourself. What I'm asking is how much time do I have to get ready? Do I need to try to break the world record like you? Or can I take an actual shower and brush my teeth longer than thirty seconds?"

"Hey, at least I brushed them," he said. "I don't wanna make him wait too long—I feel bad enough I had to shower, but I didn't have much choice since I smelled like pussy."

You were pretty sure he was buttoning his shirt.

"Yeah, a shower was needed—which, what prompted the unexpected wake-up call?"

"I had a dirty dream where I was eating you out in my old truck—the one I had in high school—and I just really fucking needed to taste you when I woke up. Took me a little bit to work up my nerve."

"Well, it was an amazing wake-up. Ten out of ten stars would love to experience it again."

He was moving, and you thought he'd grabbed his watch off the dresser.

There was a smile in his voice. "I'll keep it in mind—do your regular morning routine, baby. There's no need for you to break any world records." He was padding toward the door, it softly squealing as he opened it. "I love you."

“Wait, what color is the shirt you’re wearing?”

“Purple.”

The day before, you had to do a small load of laundry because you both had gone through the majority of the clothes you brought.

His answer made you grin. "Perfect. I love you, too."

The light switched off, and the door clicked shut. You removed your hands from your eyes and decided it was definitely time to get up out of the wet patch and shower—you made a mental note to wash the sheets and blankets before Connie got home. It seemed like the polite thing to do since you were heading home later that day.

Javi was up and ready in about five-to-six minutes.

It took you much longer to get clean and make yourself presentable, choosing to wear black leggings with your lavender-colored v-neck shirt.

Exiting the guest room, there was noise coming from the kitchen, hearing music playing low and voices, your socked feet carrying toward it.

Before the hallway opened into the living room, there was a doorway to the kitchen, and you stopped in your tracks when you got to it and looked inside, keeping half of your body hidden behind the wall.

Javi's profile was in front of you as he stood at the stove with Nate in a carrier on his back, and Stevie held in his left arm so his right was free to hold the black plastic spatula. Olivia was beside him, her back to you, with a plate in her hands that had a small stack of pancakes, all of the children still in their pajamas.

"Looks like your Mickey pancake is done, tesorito (little treasure)," he said to Olivia. "Can you bring the plate a little closer, please?"

She did as he asked, holding the plate closer but not too close to the hot stove. He scooped the pancake up and plopped it down on top of the stack.

Javi adjusted Stevie in his arm and set the spatula down to grab the large measuring cup half full of batter.

"Okay," he started, "What shape are we doing for your tía (aunt)?"

"Ninja Turtle!" Stevie shouted.

Javi smiled. "I’m sorry, bud, I'm not good enough to do a Ninja Turtle."

"What about a heart?" Olivia asked.

"Now that I can do," he answered. "Is it okay if I make your tía a heart pancake, Stevie?"

"Yes!"

Javi was cautious as he poured the pancake mix, a look of concentration on his face, finishing after some seconds.

"There," he said, he had a dubious expression. "It looks like a heart, right?"

Olivia peered into the pan. "Kinda looks like a butt.”

He let out a long sigh, and it took everything in you to hold back your giggle, enjoying watching this interaction.

"Well, guess I'm eating the butt pancake," Javi said, and you had to cover your mouth with both hands to keep from laughing because, of course, he'd volunteer to eat the butt pancake. The measuring cup was set back down, and he picked up the spatula. "I'll try again after this one. Hopefully, the next one looks like a heart."

"If it doesn't, you're really good at making Mickeys!" Olivia said.

He smiled, looking over at her. "Thanks, tesorito."

"I want a Mickey pancake!" Stevie announced.

Javi's head turned toward him with a frown. "I thought you wanted the ‘S’ for Stevie—that's what you asked me to make."

"I want a Mickey pancake now!"

“Guess I’m eating the ‘S’ pancake, too.” His eyes went to Olivia. "Set the plate on the counter, Mija. We're gonna be here longer than I expected—how's Nate doing back there?"

She set the pancakes down beside the batter, Javi twisting his torso to show her the one-year-old.

"He's just chewing on the teething ring."

"Good," he said, facing forward and flipping the pancake. "So, uh, what do you think about mi Cielito? You know, now that you've met her…"

You held your breath.

"I like her," Olivia answered. "She tells bad jokes like my dad, though. But she's really nice, and she made cookies with us, and I had fun with her at the beach."

You took a deep breath and felt relieved that you earned the approval of his niece.

"So, you're okay with her being your tía?"

"Yep! I like that she can speak Spanish with us and don't tell my mom, but tía's cookies are better than hers."

That made him smile as he moved the pancake from the pan to the stack. "I'll keep that between us, tesorito."

"Are you excited to have a tía, Stevie?" he asked the toddler.

"Yes, she made me cookies!"

Javi smiled. "Yes, she did. Okay—" he set down the plastic utensil and picked up the measuring cup again. "—let's hope this time it looks like a heart and not a butt."

Javier had always been an early riser—he didn't have much choice growing up on his parent's ranch, where their days started with his father's, who had to be out the door by six a.m. Any time he complained about waking up so early, his parents would tell him, ‘A quien madruga Dios le ayuda (God helps those who get up early),’ which equated to what they say in English, ‘The early bird gets the worm,’ or if you were early and eager, you were most likely to succeed; the saying didn’t improve his attitude about being awake when the sun hadn’t risen and having to help his dad do chores outside before he went to school.

Waking up at five a.m. for the first eighteen years of his life fucked up his internal clock to make it so his mornings naturally started at six now—which wasn't terrible during the week, but on the weekends, his fiancée slept until at least nine, and yeah, he could get up and go have some coffee while reading the newspaper or a book as he waited for her, except he'd miss her and feel lonely. His solution was he normally just stayed in bed cuddling her and allowed himself to relax and let his mind wander, usually thinking about their future.

This Saturday morning, he woke up too fucking horny to do his usual routine of holding her, and he knew she wouldn't mind if he disrupted her sleep to see if she'd want to fool around; she generally did the same when she was in his position. However, today, it popped into his mind about how much he liked it when he'd wake up to her sucking his dick or, Christ, when he'd wake up to her riding him; he wasn't ashamed to admit the first time he opened his eyes to her on top of him and using him to make herself come, he blew his load in a minute flat.

So, he was thinking about that and how she'd given him permission multiple times to do the same to her when he decided to give it a try. The issue he ran into was it made him really fucking uncomfortable to do things to her while she was unconscious—he needed his sexual partners to be coherent and consenting. It took him a few minutes to push down the feeling and remind himself she had consented, she'd enthusiastically consented on many occasions, and that he had to trust her.

And that was how he found himself waking her up with his face in her pussy. He ended up kind of liking it, or at least liking her reaction to it, and that it made her so horny she asked him for his cock.

Would he do it again? Probably. It seemed to be something she was really into.

He wished he would've worked up his nerve sooner so they could've had more time to fuck, but they'd made it just under the wire to the kids waking up.

Which, he was loving getting the chance to babysit with her. It felt like a trial run of their future, and he wanted to show her that she made the right choice, agreeing to marry him.

The children were pretty well-behaved, and they loved him enough that they weren’t too difficult—unless it was nap time or bedtime. The one he was most worried about was Nathaniel because the one-year-old hadn’t had as much time with him as the other two and was incredibly attached to his parents, especially Connie.

When Javier and Stevie went to go get the youngest Murphy upon waking, Nate had fussed for his mom, and once he realized she wasn't there, he became inconsolable if Javier tried to put him down—the solution was carrying the baby on his back while he made breakfast.

The two older kids wanted pancakes when he asked what they'd like to eat, and of course, Javier obliged because his sobrinos (niece and nephews) had him wrapped around their little fingers.

Here he was, making Stevie a Mickey Mouse pancake, even though he'd already made the three-year-old an 'S' shaped one, and his fiancée was doing a terrible job of hiding behind the wall to watch him with the kids.

He held Stevie so the child could see the pancakes being made, a black plastic spatula in his other hand. "Cielito," he said loud enough for her to hear. "How many pancakes do you want?"

She stepped into the doorway, and he glanced over, smiling immediately when he saw she was wearing her purple shirt. She was frowning. "How long have you known I was there?"

"Baby, you had half of your body showing. I clocked you the moment you got out here."

Her arms crossed over her chest, her eyebrow raising. "So, were you cheesing it up?"

She was asking if everything she saw and heard was genuine, and it felt like a gut punch that she thought he was faking it.

A frown formed between his eyebrows and on his lips. "Tesorito," he looked at Olivia, "¿He estado actuando diferente esta mañana (Have I been acting differently this morning)?"

"Huh?" The little girl had a confused expression on her face. "No." She shook her head. "¿Por qué actuarias de manera diferente (Why would you act differently)?"

His eyes went back to his fiancée.

“No sé (I don’t know),” he said evenly. “No tengo ninguna razón para actuar de manera diferente (I have no reason to act differently). ¿Le dirás a tu tía lo que te gusta que te prepare para desayunar cuando te visite (Will you tell your aunt what you like me to make you for breakfast when I visit)?”

The girl turned to face Cielito with a smile. "Mickey Mouse pancakes! He also does other shapes if we ask, but Mickey is my favorite, and the ones he's best at making!"

"Oh," the woman replied. Their gazes met, guilt written on her features as her arms dropped to her sides. "I'm sorry, Javi. I shouldn't have jumped to that conclusion."

“Flip it!” Stevie shouted about his pancake. “Flip it, tío!”

He focused back on the pan and used the plastic utensil in his hand to do as the toddler asked.

“Yay!” the three-year-old clapped.

“Thanks for paying attention, buddy,” Javier told the little one. “And I get it, Cielito. You've never seen me with them.” Javier sighed. “How many pancakes do you want?"

She moved toward him and politely said to Olivia, “Excuse me, kiddo,” the child letting her get to his side. She ducked under his arm that held the spatula, hugging him around his middle or as best she could with him wearing the baby carrier. Her face was tilted up toward him. “I’m sorry, Javi,” she quietly said. “I was rude, and I’m sorry for hurting your feelings. Can you forgive me?”

His head turned to her and kissed her forehead. “Yeah,” he answered truthfully. He pulled back to meet her eyes. “I’m not putting on a show for you—everything you’ve seen is just how I am with them.” Javier let out a long breath. “These kids are my family, and up until you told me you wanted children with me, they were the closest thing I thought I’d get to having my own—I couldn’t be a father, but I could be the best uncle, and I’m gonna keep being the best uncle, even when we do have our own, because I love them, and they’re my favorite sobrinos.”

“Somos tus únicos sobrinos, tío (We’re your only niece and nephews, uncle),” Olivia said.

Javier smiled, looking past his fiancee at the dark-haired girl. “Sí, los son y son los mejores (Yes, you are, and you’re the best). ¿Quién es tu tío favorito (Who is your favorite uncle)?”

Her beaming smile was missing some baby teeth as she pointed at him. “¡Tú, tío Javi (You, uncle Javi)! ¡Eres divertido y haces los mejores panqueques y nos compras los regalos que queramos (You’re fun and make the best pancakes and buy us the presents we want)!”

Cielito was smiling when he locked eyes with her. “I told you you’re fun,” she said. “And I can tell you love them a lot—you’re very adorable with them.”

“Thanks,” he replied and kissed her forehead again. “How many pancakes would you like, mi amor (my love)?”

“Two is fine.”

“What shape for your second one?”

Her smile turned mischievous. “I’d love a butt pancake, so we can both eat ass—” Her eyes got comically huge at remembering the children. “—sortments.” She cringed. “So, we can both eat an assortment of differently shaped pancakes.”

He snorted in amusement, trying not to laugh. “Right,” he said. “We’ll both eat an assortment of pancakes.”

“There’s really not much different between the heart and butt pancakes…” Olivia added with a look on her face like she didn’t understand what they were talking about.

“Is there bacon?” Cielito suddenly asked and stepped away from him, clearly trying to change the subject. “I could make bacon or maybe cut up some fruit?”

He looked between the two older kids. “Do you guys want bacon or fruit with your pancakes?”

"Bacon!" Olivia answered excitedly.

"Bacon!" Stevie squealed, clapping his hands.

His head turned to his future wife, smiling. "I think they want bacon."

"Then I'll make them bacon," she said, walking to the fridge.

It was like they were playing house—it was them with the three children they were taking care of, having to feed, clean, clothe, and entertain them, giving the couple a chance to see how the other handled it.

He loved standing with her side-by-side at the stove, making breakfast while they chatted with the children. He loved that Nate wanted to sit with her at the table when they ate, and she didn’t even blink an eye as she took the baby to put in her lap and eat his small plate of a plain pancake and cut-up bananas. He loved how she tackled cleaning up with him while holding the one-year-old on her hip like it was no big deal and kept an eye on the three little Murphys while he washed the blankets from their bed and put the mattress back onto the old, squeaky bedframe. He loved watching how easily she interacted with the kids and that they liked her—he knew, without a doubt, when he asked Olivia what she thought of the woman he was marrying, her answer was going to be positive because the nine-year-old trusted him, and would’ve said something to him by now had there been anything wrong.

Javier hadn't told Cielito this, but on their first night in Miami, when Olivia requested him to tell her a bedtime story, she worriedly asked him if he'd still love her and her brothers if he had a baby, and it broke his heart. He reassured her that, of course, he would and made a mental note that when they finally had a child, he'd do his best to ensure nothing changed regarding his regular phone calls with Olivia and sending them presents.

Seeing his fiancée happily helping him with the kids had him feeling some type of way; he couldn’t stop smiling, excitement vibrating just under his skin at thinking about her doing the same things with their own children.

On many occasions, she’d said their kids were going to be obsessed with him and love him more than her, but that wasn’t something he wanted—his future wife deserved their affection more, and he wanted them to be obsessed with her. He hated how she grew up—how she never felt loved, and he sure as fuck hated her family, and starting their own was a chance for her to have a do-over where she’d be loved unconditionally and knew her importance to him and their children. He just wanted her to feel loved and wanted, and he would do everything in his power to make it happen.

In the hours they waited for Steve and Connie to get back, they got a taste of what parenting together would be like, and he thought they didn’t do half bad—they got the boys ready for the day, getting them dressed, their teeth brushed, and hair combed. He saw how well she handled calming down a crying Nathaniel. They spent some time in the family room watching cartoons with the kids, and he helped Stevie with potty training, and she didn’t shy away from changing diapers. She French braided Olivia’s hair per the child’s request, giving her a plait on each side of her head. He showed her how to put Nate down for his morning nap, and they had lunch when the baby got up; then, they all piled onto the couch to watch The Little Mermaid.

Javier usually did most of this alone when the parents were away, but he had to admit that having someone helping him was nice and made things much easier.

Something he didn’t expect was how he somehow fell even more in love with her from being so good with the kids, and it showed him she was going to be an amazing mother one day—hopefully soon, if he got his way.

Javier was beside you on the couch with his arm over your shoulders and Stevie in his lap, Olivia on your other side, and Nate content sitting on your thigh with his back against you and a sippy cup in his hands as you all watched the movie.

"My favorite character is Ariel," Olivia said. "I'd love to be a mermaid and swim with dolphins! Tío's favorite character is Sebastian."

That was a piece of trivia you were not aware of.

Your head turned toward the girl. "Is that so? Has your tío watched this with you before?"

"Oh, yeah, it's my favorite movie!” That made sense since she had The Little Mermaid pajamas and bedding. “Last time, we ate ice cream sandwiches while watching."

Confusion came over you because you’d been sure Javi’s first time seeing this movie was with you—you’d been sure his first time watching many of the animated Disney movies had been with you.

“That sounds like fun,” you said slowly. “Have you watched other Disney movies with him?”

“Yep.” She pointed toward the entertainment center, where behind a glass door, you could see the spines of VHS cases, noting there were a lot of Disney titles and other children’s movies. “Um, I know we’ve watched Beauty and the Beast, Snow White, uh, Sleeping Beauty, Toy Story, Pocahontas, Aladdin, um, A Goofy Movie, um, oh! He took me to the movies to see Hercules!”

“I love that—have you watched Lion King together?”

He said he’d never seen it on your second date, and how he acted when you watched it on your third date made you believe it was his first watch.

“Nope—” She shook her head. “—I don’t like Lion King. It’s too sad.”

“It is kinda sad, and it’s okay that you don’t like it.” You gave her knee a pat before turning your head to look at Javi, whispering to him, “I thought you hadn’t seen Disney movies before we met?”

His face scrunched in confusion, meeting your gaze. “What? I never said that. I told you I hadn't watched Lion King, and I hadn’t. I’ve seen a few Disney movies with the kids—I figured you knew that…”

“I didn’t. I thought your first times were with me...”

“Some of them, yeah.” He shrugged. “They’re young children—what movies did you think we watched?”

“I don’t know, maybe Land Before Time or those cartoon movies not made by Disney.”

You felt dumb for not putting two and two together after he told you about Olivia and her brothers early on in your relationship—of course, it’d make sense he’d seen some of the movies before you got together.

Olivia interrupted. "We don't watch Land Before Time because it makes tío cry."

Your face softened, reaching across your body to caress his cheek. "Oh, babe, because of Littlefoot's mom?"

He was frowning, letting out a sigh, his eyes darting away from you. “Yeah,” he confirmed. “Messed up way to start a kid’s movie and fuc—freaking traumatizing.”

“Yeah.” You pushed the hair off his forehead. “The beginning is brutal. I cried the first time I watched it, too.”

The children’s dad shouted from the front door, “Kids, we’re home!”

“Mommy and Daddy are home!” Stevie said, crawling off Javi’s lap to run their way.

“Mom!” Nate shouted, letting his sippy cup fall and needing help to get to the floor. He booked it the same way as his brother.

Olivia jumped up to go see them, too.

Javi leaned in close, your cheeks touching when he whispered into your ear, “I can’t wait to come home to kids who are excited to see me—can't wait to come home to you pregnant. I just can't fucking wait to have a baby with you."

You smiled. "I know," you said just as quietly. "I can't wait, either. You're gonna be such an amazing dad, and our babies will be lucky to have you."

"You don't know how fucking happy it makes me when we talk about having more than one—I get so excited, I feel like a kid on Christmas."

"You're so cute."

"Hey, Jav!" Steve called out. "The two of you need to come out here!"

Your fiancé kissed your cheek. "We better go see what he wants."

“Okay.” You took his chin in hand and moved his face in front of yours to give him a kiss on the lips.

Your hands were held when you both got up and made your way to where the family was, finding them all standing around the kitchen table, Connie holding Nathaniel and Stevie in his dad's arms—toward the end of the table you were closest to, sat a professionally made, circular, white frosted cake, with red outlining the top and fancy writing in the same color, spelling out, "Happy Birthday Javi!" and two lit candles shaped like a four and zero standing above the message.

The moment you entered the dining room, the Murphys started singing "Happy Birthday," and you joined in, Javi suddenly stopping.

"What's all this?" he asked.

It got to the part in the song where his name goes, and the adults said Javi, but Olivia and Stevie sang tío. When they finished singing, the three-year-old clapped his hands.

"It's your birthday party!" Steve said with a smile. "Get over here and blow out the candles so the kids can give you your presents and eat cake."

"Right," Javi replied, letting go of your hand to walk the handful of steps, leaning over the table between two chairs.

"Make a wish!" Olivia said.

His eyes closed, and he blew out the candles.

"Yay!" Stevie said excitedly, clapping his hands again. Nate copied his brother with claps and a big smile.

"What'd you wish for?" Olivia asked.

"If he tells you, then his wish won't come true, honey," her mom said.

Javi straightened, and you made your way to him.

"Oh, right," Olivia replied. "Can we have cake now?"

"Yes, baby girl," Steve answered, taking Nate when Connie passed him to his dad so she could cut the cake. "Olivia, go grab your tío's presents over on the coffee table." He nodded behind him, and the little girl ran in that direction.

Javi's voice was rough with emotion as he spoke, "You guys didn't have to do this..."

"Yes, we did," Connie said, putting a small slice on a tiny paper plate. "The kids wanted to celebrate your birthday with you and eat cake."

"Thank you." Your arm was around his waist while he pulled you closer to his side and kissed your hair.

Olivia came barreling back toward them with some folded papers in one hand and a small box under her other arm wrapped in red and white striped wrapping paper that was clearly meant for Christmas.

She stood beside him and handed him the folded papers first, which turned out to be handmade Birthday cards from the kids—the first one featured an array of colorful marker scribbles that had every color in the rainbow and an abundance of circles, the writing messy as if an adult was helping to guide their tiny hand to write in black ink, ‘Happy Birthday!’ Javi flipped it open to find a baby-sized orange handprint on one side, with ‘Love, Nate’ written above it in Connie's clean script, and on the other side was a blue toddler's handprint with the same messy handwriting from the front over it, spelling, 'Love, Stevie.'

His eyes were misty as he looked over at the boys. "Did you make this for me, Stevie?"

"Uh-huh." His little head nodded. "I colored it for you!"

"I love it, mi principito (my little prince). Thank you."

"What do we say when someone thanks us?" Steve asked his son.

Stevie smiled big. "You’re welcome!"

Javi's attention returned to his hands, putting the closed first card behind the second.

This one was clearly made by Olivia. She'd drawn a birthday cake with the frosting colored pink and a few candles on top, a bunch of vibrant balloons above it, and underneath, she'd spelled in block letters in different colors, ‘Happy Birthday!’ When he opened it, there was a colorful stick figure drawing of her family taking up both sides, their names written above each person, with Javi and you in the middle, and 'Cielito' put down as your name. Along the top in the child's script, it said, 'Happy Birthday to the best tío in the entire world! Love, Olivia.'

It surprised you that she added you amongst her family, and it warmed your heart, knowing how happy it would make Javi.

"Es hermoso, tesorito (It’s beautiful, my little treasure)," he said, sounding a little choked up. He pulled her in for a side hug. "Incluso incluiste a mi Cielito (You even included my Cielito)."

"Well, yeah," she replied, looking up at him. "Hablas mucho de ella y vives con ella, y te vas a casar con ella (You talk about her a lot and live with her, and you are going to marry her). Tuve que incluirla ya que va a ser nuestra tía (I had to include her since she is going to be our aunt)."

"Gracias, Mija (Thank you, Mija). Es perfecto (It’s perfect). I'm gonna hang these up at work so I can look at them every day." He sniffled and wiped at his eyes, handing the two cards to you. His head turned your way. "We're gonna need to pack these carefully."

"Of course," you said.

"Y aquí está tu regalo (And here is your gift)," Olivia held up the box to him, and he took it, quickly unwrapping the paper and opening it. He set it down on the table and pulled out what was inside.

It was a picture of Javi sitting on the Murphys’ leather sofa, holding a maybe six-month-old Nate in his arms, with Stevie and Olivia seated on each side of him, all of them, except Nate, who was chewing on his hand, smiling at the camera, the white ceramic frame around it covered in kid-drawn sunflowers and daisies, with ‘World's Best Tío’ written on the bottom in Olivia's handwriting.

He was smiling. "I love this—it’s gonna go on my desk," he said. His gaze went to his friends. "Thank you. This means a lot to me."

"You're welcome, Javi," Steve said, smiling.

"The kids had a lot of fun making your presents," Connie added, "and I've been meaning to get you a copy of that picture." Six plates with cake slices on them were sitting on the table.

“Thank you," he said again, gently setting it back into the box.

The birthday cake was eaten, and the majority of the hours you had left with the Murphys, Javi spent with the children while you took care of packing both of your bags, wanting him to have as much time with them as possible—the last thing you saw them doing was having a Nerf gun battle, Javi and Olivia versus the Steves; big Steve carrying around little Steve, both with weapons in their hands.

There was a lot of laughing and happy squeals.

A little later, when Steve and Connie walked into the guest room you were in, you were folding the basket of clean bedding.

"Oh, sweetie, you don't need to worry about folding all of that," the other woman said as she came over and carefully took the sheet you were holding, tossing it back in the basket.

"It's really not a problem," you replied. "I don't mind."

"We'll take care of it later." She waved away your words, then guided you with a hand on your back and arm to stand with them over in the space at the end of the bed. "We wanted to thank you for last night." She stepped to stand beside her husband, and he immediately put an arm around her.

"Oh god, I'm so sorry about how I acted." You covered your face with your hands.

"It's okay,” she reassured. "If I had been in your position, I would've wanted to kick that woman's ass, too, and to be honest, it made the night very exciting."

You lowered your palms. "Really?"

"Oh yeah. Steve—" She glanced at her husband. "—tell her about that time right after we got married when that woman tried to kiss you."

"First of all," he started, "I told that woman to leave me the fuck alone and was very blunt in how uninterested I was in her. Then she tried to lay one on me—Connie had stepped away to use the ladies' room—and next thing I know, my beautiful, amazing wife was pulling her off me by the hair, and gave her a black eye before myself, and a bouncer could separate them. We were lucky she wasn't arrested, but I had never loved her more." He had a dopey smile on his face as he looked at Connie.

"Sooo, I acted accordingly?" you asked.

"Yes," they replied in unison, focusing their attention on you.

You smiled. "That makes me feel better."

“We wanted to talk to you before y’all left,” Connie said, “and thought this was a good time since Javi’s busy with our babies.”

“Okay…” you replied, wondering what they wanted to discuss.

“We are so happy Javi met you, and you’ve been so good for him. We’ve never seen him happier, and the two of you are a great match.”

You were waiting for the ‘but,” their expressions turning solemn.

“We just kindly ask that you please don’t break his heart,” she continued. “With how head over heels he is for you, we worry about what would happen to him.”

Breaking his heart had never even crossed your mind, and you had no intention of doing it either—Javi was the love of your life, your person, your soulmate; doing anything to hurt him was unfathomable, and you got where they were coming from—imagining a life without him was bleak and painful, and you knew he wouldn’t handle it well.

“Oh,” you said, “Wow, you guys are giving me the shovel talk. Well, I just want to reassure you both—” You looked between them. “—that I love him more than anything, and I’m in it for the long haul; in sickness and in health, ‘til death do us part, he’s it for me—I can’t even picture my future without him.”

A small smile was on Connie’s lips. “That’s good to hear,” she said.

"We're serious when we say you're the best thing to ever happen to him," Steve added, also smiling softly. "I'm not used to seeing him so fucking happy, but it's a good look—he deserves this, and we just hate thinking about him losing it.”

“I completely understand your worries,” you replied. “You just want what’s best for him, and you’re great friends—he’s lucky to have you. I want him to have happiness, too, after all the shit he’s gone through.”

Steve took a deep breath, his free hand resting on his hip. “He’s been through the wringer, and it’s about damn time he catches a fucking break.”

“It really is, and I’m going to do whatever I can to make sure he’s happy.”

“We appreciate it,” Steve said—he scratched at the back of his neck. “Also, I’ll tell him on our next call.” He and Javi chatted every Thursday over the phone. “But, I’m sorry about what an asshole I’ve been. I don’t know what got into me.”

“You needed to get laid, Steve.” You reached out and patted his arm, Connie giggling. “We know.” His cheeks had reddened. “If I only boned five times in an entire year, I’d also be a dick to the couple who are clearly doing it on the regular.”

He sighed, averting his eyes. “Yeah…”

You smiled. “Looks like you guys had a great night, though.” It was obvious they were much more relaxed. “Connie’s even glowing.” You gestured toward her, and Steve stood a little straighter, his chest puffing out. “Now, I need you guys to promise me something.”

Connie’s face showed curiosity. “What’s that?” she asked.

“You’ll start going on at least one date a month—get a babysitter for the night and take some time for yourselves away from the kids to have some fun. If you can swing it, I highly recommend getting a hotel room so you can go wild.”

The other woman looked at her husband. “I did enjoy the room last night. I’m sure my sister would watch the kids for us once a month.”

Steve had a delighted smile. “I enjoyed it, too—it’s a great idea, and we should’ve thought of it sooner.”

Her attention came back to you. “We’ll try—thank you. There’s something we want you to promise us.”

"Lay it on me."

“We know y’all are adventurous in the bedroom, but promise us you’ll avoid getting arrested by having sex out in public.”

You cringed. “Last night was a first for somewhere that public, and I don’t think I could stomach doing it again anyway.”

"Good." She nodded.

"Well, thank you for having us," you said. "It was lovely to meet you all and see Javi with your kids."

"I told you he's great with them," Steve replied.

"Yes, he is—we need to figure out a date, but hopefully, you guys can make it to our wedding next month. I'd love for Olivia to have the chance to be some kind of flower girl.” You weren’t having a traditional wedding with a whole bridal party; it was going to be a small ceremony with Chucho, Javi’s cousin, Seb, and your best friend, Robyn, the only people in attendance. “We'll make it work somehow."

"She'd love that," Connie said with a smile.

"We wouldn't miss it for the world," Steve added.

When it was finally time to leave for the airport, there were a lot of tears and promises Javi would see the children again very soon—Stevie had to practically be pried from your fiancé's arms with the grip he had around the man’s neck.

The drive to the airport was quiet, with your hand in Javi's, knowing he was sad about leaving his best friends and their kids.

On the plane, your bags were safely tucked away in the overhead compartment, and your future husband was again wearing his leather jacket and sitting in the aisle seat. He distracted you with his mouth on yours for take off, and you were thankful he remembered your fear of flying.

There was hardly any talking between you, mainly because you both were exhausted and ready to sleep in the comfort of your own bed.

An hour into the flight, as you read your book with the small overhead light shining down on you in the dark cabin, Javi nudged you with his elbow to get your attention.

"Cielito, look."

He was smiling with his reading glasses lowered on his nose, his hands holding his own book, and your eyes followed the direction he nodded in.

Across the aisle, in the row ahead of you, a mother was holding her baby, who couldn't have been a year old, in front of her and doing something you couldn’t see that had the child erupting in happy giggles with a big infectious smile.

"I want one," Javi said.

You snorted, laying your head against his shoulder. "And we're doing our best to have one."

His face turned your way, and he whispered, "Yeah, we are—maybe we should try joining the mile-high club. I'm sure I could figure out how to make it work in that small space."

As horny as the thought made you, a disappointed sigh exhaled from your mouth.

"Can't," you replied. "I promised Steve and Connie we wouldn't have sex in public anymore."

His eyebrows dipped low, and his eyes slightly squinted. "Why would you promise them that?"

"'Cause we were having a heart-to-heart, and I made them promise to fuck at least once a month. Anyways, they said ‘public’ and were referring to the bar yesterday, so us messing around in your truck is still okay—basically, in my head, as long as no one's around, we're good."

His face relaxed. "I can work with that—yesterday and the beach were too fucking risky anyway."

"Right? If we're gonna have a baby, we gotta start being more responsible."

A smile pulled up on his lips. "Agreed—god, I'm so fucking excited."

"About getting married and having babies?"

His expression softened as his eyes stayed on yours, grabbing your left hand and bringing it to his lips to kiss the largest diamond on your engagement ring. "Yeah, and that I get to spend the rest of my life with my best friend, living the fucking dream."

Next Day, Sunday, December 13

The day he’d been dreading had finally come—he was forty.

Forty.

That morning, he'd stood in the bathroom naked, staring at himself in the mirror, taking in every little detail of what he looked like after being on the planet for four decades.

There were more lines on his face and a grey hair on his head he plucked. He'd put on some weight, seeing his gut was softer and his face fuller.

He felt relieved that he still recognized the reflection—it was still him. He just had more wear and tear than when he turned thirty.

Cielito had woken earlier than she usually did on the weekends and found him doing his inventory of changes. He couldn't help it when he asked her if he was still attractive at his new age—he needed to know and have some reassurance. The question had her turning him to face her in order for her to press up against his front where she stared into his eyes and, honest to god, waxed poetic about how sexy he was for a solid five minutes; he'd felt much better afterward, and so happy, he sat her on the bathroom counter and ate her out.

He didn't want to make a big deal about his birthday—the small party with the Murphys was more than enough, and for today, he wanted to go to dinner with his fiancée and father at a decent steakhouse, where they both promised not to tell the servers it was his birthday so he didn't have to go through the embarrassment of being sung to by strangers.

As he said, he didn't want to make it a big deal—he helped Cielito make him breakfast, they cleaned up the apartment, washed their clothes from the trip, and ran some errands; typical things they’d do on a Sunday to prepare for the following week, plus relaxing on the couch and watching what she said was a Christmas movie he’d love: Die Hard.

She was right; this was the best birthday he'd had in years.

They'd gotten ready for dinner much earlier than they needed to so they could make a stop on their way.

His wi-fiancée looked stunning in her wine-red dress; the bodice had floral patterned lace, the skirt flaring out from the waist to stop just below her knees, and so she didn't get cold, she paired it with a jean jacket. Javier didn't feel like getting too dressed up and decided dark-wash jeans, a maroon button-up, and his black sports coat would do.

He held her hand as they quietly walked on the grass, his other fist carrying a small bouquet of bright orange and golden yellow marigolds; the wind was quietly whistling, two squirrels on a tree nearby were squabbling, and in the distance, faint sounds of cars traveling on roads met their ears, bringing life to a place where the inhabitants silently rested.

His eyes started watering before he saw the familiar stone, unable to stop from thinking how bittersweet this would be. They approached the headstone that had been so lovingly cared for, you couldn't tell it had marked this spot for close to ten years; the inscription was seared in his brain, knowing what it said without having to read the engraved letters and numbers.

Antonia Peña López

November 17, 1937-January 31, 1991

Beloved Wife, Loving Mother, Greatly Loved, and Sadly Missed

And he wished she knew just how greatly loved and sadly missed she was.

He bent down to place the flowers in one of the vases dug in the ground, grunting when he stood back up.

Cielito squeezed his hand to remind him she was with him, and he had to clear his throat before he could speak.

"Hola, Amá (Hi, Mom)," he said, "Te dije la semana pasada que por fin iba a pedirle al amor de mi vida que se casara conmigo, y lo hice (I told you last week that I was going to finally ask the love of my life to marry me, and I did)—dijo que sí (she said yes)." He held out his fiancée's hand to show the ring on her finger. He had to wipe at his eyes. "Me voy a casar, Amá. (I'm getting married, Mom). Estamos empezando nuestra familia (We're starting our family)," his voice cracked on the last word, and he cleared his throat again, ignoring the lump in it. "Estoy tan feliz, Amá, (I'm so happy, Mom)—nunca he sido más feliz y te extraño mucho (I've never been happier, and I miss you so much)."

Tears were rolling down his cheeks.

"Ojalá estuvieras aquí para ver cómo me he convertido en el hombre más feliz del mundo (I wish you were here to see how I've become the happiest man in the world). Ojalá pudieras estar aquí para conocer a la increíble mujer con la que me voy a casar (I wish you could be here to meet the incredible woman I'm marrying). Ojalá pudieras vernos casarnos (I wish you could see us get married). Ojalá estuvieras aquí para conocer a tus nietos (I wish you'd be here to meet your grandchildren). Solo desearía que estuvieras aquí, Amá (I just wish you were here, Mom)."

His lips had started to tremble.

"Hoy cumplí cuarenta años y me di cuenta de que la última vez que mi cumpleaños se sintió como algo para celebrar, estabas viva, estaba en casa desde de la universidad en las vacaciones de invierno y hicimos un pastel de tres leches juntos. (I turned forty today and realized the last time my birthday felt like something to celebrate, you were alive, I was home from college on winter vacation, and we made a tres leches cake together). No ha sido lo mismo desde entonces (It hasn’t been the same since). Mi vida es mejor ahora, y prometo celebrar más mi cumpleaños el próximo año (My life is better now, and I promise to celebrate my birthday more next year).”

He smiled.

“Me habré casado con mi media naranja, podríamos tener un bebé, al menos, espero que tengamos uno, y probablemente viviremos en nuestra nueva casa (I will have married my soulmate, we might have a baby, at least I hope we will, and we will probably be living in our new house). Tendré muchas razones para celebrar (I will have many reasons to celebrate). Te amo, Amá, y te extraño tanto (I love you, Mom, and I miss you so much). Gracias por visitarme la otra noche (Thank you for visiting me the other night). Lo necesitaba (I needed it).”

He'd dreamt about his mother the night before he proposed, and it had felt like she was giving him her approval of the woman he would spend the rest of his life with.

Cielito wrapped her arms around his middle from the side, and he hugged her back, sniffling loudly.

"You okay?" she asked.

"Yeah." He kissed the top of her head. "I'm okay."

"You know, wherever she is, she's so fucking happy and proud of you, right?"

His eyes blurred with more tears. "Yeah."

She squeezed him a little tighter, then moved from the embrace to look at the headstone.

"Hi, Antonia," she said, doing a little wave that made him smile. He knew she got nervous talking to his mom and preferred to speak English. "I love the ring." She held up her hand to show it. "It means a lot to me that it used to be yours, and I'm happy we have something to keep you with us every day. I just want you to know that I love your son so much, and I promise to take good care of him—he's everything to me, and I want him to be happy; I think you'd want that, too. So, I promise to take good care of him, love him with everything I've got, and make sure he gets that happy life we both know he deserves and want him to have.” She frowned. “I'm sad we never got to meet, but it feels like we have, and I want you to know that I love you, and our kids will love you, too, because you would've been the best abuela (grandma) to them. Thank you for raising such an amazing man, and don't worry, I'll keep him safe and love him forever."

The moment she stopped talking, he pulled her into his arms and hugged her tightly.

"Thank you," he whispered.

"I meant it all."

"I know."

Something that made Javier really fucking happy was how much the woman he’d chosen to marry loved his parents. She and his father got along so well they spent time together without Javier—she sometimes went out to the ranch after work to have a couple of beers with his dad and gossip about what was happening in town. Other times, she’d hang out with Chucho, and they’d cook Javier dinner together. And just like how Javier occasionally needed advice or a wiser perspective from his father, she did, too, and would visit him to talk things out. Javier loved that they’d bonded and developed a great father-daughter relationship.

Then there was how she never got a chance to meet his mother, yet through stories, pictures, home videos, and his mom’s recipes, she grew to love her and felt as though she knew her—Cielito genuinely loved his mamá, and had told him that when she makes his mother’s dishes, it made her feel closer to the other woman, and that meant so much to him.

He hated thinking about it, but there were so many signs that Lorraine was bad news, and one of them was how she never made any effort with his parents or wanted to—she hated going out to the ranch, she didn’t like to eat his mother’s cooking, and hardly spoke a word to them. He should’ve figured it out sooner that she was a waste of time. That she didn’t deserve him. That she wasn’t right for him.

He was with the right woman now. Cielito was the complete opposite of his ex—she actually loved him, she cared about him, she made an effort with his parents, and loved them, too; she enjoyed making his mother’s recipes, she learned Spanish for him and his family because she wanted to, and agreed to live at the ranch with zero convincing. She was perfect and everything he could want in a partner, and he was well aware that he didn’t deserve her. She was too good for him, and he was the luckiest man in the whole goddamn world that she’d chosen to be with him—she chose him.

They rode in his truck to the restaurant downtown and had to find parking on the street, ending up two blocks away before a spot was available. Christmas was weeks away, and people were out shopping at the small stores lining the road, and since it was dinner time, the restaurants were filling up—they had a small journey to make on foot, and neither of them minded.

It was one of those days where he needed her close because of the array of emotions he was feeling—there was unease from turning forty, sadness at missing his mom, regret for the things from his past on his mind, excitement at the prospect of getting married and starting a family, happiness from being with the woman he loved, and he was almost positive Cielito was hiding a new lingerie set under her dress, and that thought alone had him a little horny.

His arm was across her shoulders, keeping her against his side, his head tilted toward her as they walked and talked, his attention on her and her alone, loving the smile on her face, and her bright eyes, the smell of her perfume making him feel warm, and content—she smelled like home, she felt like home, she was home, and as long as she was with him, he would always be home.

"I'm telling you," she said, "your dad's gonna have a contract or something that he went through the effort to have notarized, or some shit to make it legally binding that he's okay living with a baby and will help us take care of them."

Amusement was on her face.

"He only had Friday to do something like that, and I doubt he could've done it in one day—I'm betting we just get a piece of paper that he wrote down he's okay living with the baby and helping us, that he signed on the bottom."

"Twenty bucks.” She glanced his way to meet his eyes as she smiled.

"What?"

"Twenty bucks says he went all out."

"Fine," he said. "I'm in, but don't be mad at me when I win."

His father was eager for grandchildren, would do anything to ensure he got them, and could be a bit ridiculous, but Javier didn’t think he’d go through so much trouble for what was essentially a joke, even though they all knew he meant what he promised.

She looked forward again. "Ha! You're the one who's gonna lose because your dad is—" she trailed off and suddenly stopped, and so did he. Her smile turned into a frown, and she glared at something ahead of them.

His lips turned down. "What?" He looked in the direction she was. "Fuck," he breathed. Javier got his hands on her shoulders. "Let's cross the street, baby," he said, trying to make her move, but she wouldn’t budge.

“No,” she replied. “We’re gonna ignore them and see if they’ll do the same. I need to know if they’ve stopped with their bullshit.”

He sighed. “I don’t think this is a good idea...”

She looked at him. “I promise, Javi, I won’t start shit if they don’t.”

“I know you won’t—I don’t have much faith in them.”

“Who knows, maybe they’ve grown as people.” She shrugged.

He highly doubted that.

"Hey, Javi.” The heavy Texan drawl of the woman’s voice had him tensing like he was hearing nails on a chalkboard.

“Or not,” Cielito said, looking at the group.

He sighed again, his attention going to the group of women, and sounded tired when he spoke, "Hi, Lorraine." She was with her cousin Tammy and her friend from high school, Tracy, the three women holding shopping bags. “Tammy, Tracy.” He nodded at each of them.

Javier was really fucking hoping this would be a quick hello, and they could continue on their way. “We’ve gotta get going,” he said. “We’re on our way to dinner.”

Grabbing his fiancée’s hand, he started to move and stopped when the interaction continued.

"I'm surprised you're still doing whatever it is you're doing with the same woman,” Lorraine said. “I'd think you would've grown tired of her by now with how you go through women."

He knew staying here was a bad idea. He ground his teeth, glaring, and didn’t have a chance to respond since Cielito beat him to it.

"Surprise, bitch," his fiancée said, holding up her hand, "we're engaged, so why don't you fuck right off with your shitty attitude and leave us the hell alone."

The other woman's eyes flashed as she looked at the ring. "His track record with weddings isn't great, and I wouldn't be surprised if he disappeared on you, too; that's what he's good at, up and leaving, and I doubt him giving you a ring is really gonna hold him to marrying you—there’s also the fact he spent over a decade paying a different woman to fuck him every night, and I just think he’s too much of a slut to settle down."

Cielito lunged toward her, and Javier quickly had his arms around her to hold her back.

"You don’t fucking know him!” she yelled, trying to break out of his hold. “And I don't recall him getting you a ring, you jealous hag!" Lorraine scoffed, and the woman in his arms went still. "That's it," she said, having a realization. "You know, I thought it was really fucking weird that you're married and have a whole ass family but are so obsessed with a guy you dated for a handful of months and tried to baby trap—you're jealous," she stated matter-of-factly. "I bet Javi was the best sex you ever had, and you hate you couldn't keep him—it grinds your fucking gears that he's in an actual, loving relationship with another woman who gets that fucking spectacular dick on the regular and is treated like a goddess while your husband probably doesn't even know where the clit is, and only cares about getting himself off; honestly, with how much of a fucking cunt you are to Javi, I'm gonna assume the only orgasms you've had since him were with your own fingers because the man you're married to is godawful in bed and it wouldn’t shock me, most likely cheating on you—and that's what you fucking deserve for being the biggest, selfish, stuck up bitch in the world."

The other woman's face was bright red, and she dropped her bags, Tammy and Tracy immediately grabbing onto her to keep her from moving toward Cielito, her expression showing pure rage.

His wonderfully amazing, beautiful, badass wi-fiancée seemed to have struck a nerve, and he had to keep himself from laughing at the other woman’s anger.

"I'm not fucking jealous!" Lorraine shouted. "He was lucky I even bothered dating a loser like him! And he humiliated me! Me! I was the prom queen! I’m a beauty queen! I come from money! My family name means something here! He had the chance to be something more than a poor farm boy with me! You're delusional if you think he'd marry an ugly fucking nobody like you when he wouldn’t even marry me!"

He was already pissed off, but that made him want to scorch the earth she walked on. He stepped in front of Cielito, his tone going icier than the Arctic. "Shut the fuck up, Lorraine," he said, staring daggers at her. "I've had it with your shit."

The woman stopped struggling, eyes wide like she couldn’t believe he was talking to her like this.

"You can insult me all you fucking want,” he told her, “but you will not talk about the woman I love like that, no matter how fucking jealous you are of her—and she's right. You are jealous, and you should be because you don't hold a single fucking candle to her.” He pressed a hand to his chest. “I actually love her. I love her so fucking much, I proposed to her with my mother's ring, and what did I give you when you tried to trick me into marrying the devil incarnate? Fucking nothing because you meant nothing to me and deserved nothing from me. I'm done, Lorraine. I no longer feel bad about how things ended, and I’m fucking glad I left your ass at the altar because it led to me meeting the woman of my dreams who’s far more prettier than you and is somebody—she’s somebody better than you.” His hands went to his hips. “This is the last time you or anyone else in your shitty family harasses me—” He pointed at himself. “—or the people I love—it better be, or I'll get the Sheriff involved, and I’m sure with his connections over at the courthouse, they’d be more than happy to strap you fuckers with restraining orders.” Sheriff Arturo was respected and had a lot of pull in the community; he also was Javier’s boss and a family friend, who’d be more than happy to fuck with Lorraine’s family on his behalf. “As my future wife said,” he continued, “you can fuck right off; whatever this was is over. Have a nice life.”

His ex's face was so red, a vein was bulging in her forehead, while her mouth opened and closed, unable to speak from clearly being too angry and shocked. He grabbed Cielito's hand and pulled her around the other three women behind him. They were walking away, their backs to the trio, and he heard a frustrated scream, followed by an “I’m not jealous of her, and Rick isn’t cheating on me! He just works late at the office!” The other women were trying to calm her down, which made him smile.

It was about fucking time he told her off, and he felt free—a weight had been lifted; he no longer had to walk on eggshells. He was finally fucking free of his past, and it was like he could actually breathe.

There was nothing more he wanted to do than kiss the woman he loved, who always stood up for him and was simply incredible. They went across a street to be on the same block as their destination, passing people as they walked.

Cielito came to a stop, and he did, too; Javier grunted when she shoved him into an alley, making him stumble a few steps. The space between the two buildings was wide enough for a walkway, and he was confused when he turned her way, his eyes widening when she grabbed the lapels of his coat and pushed his back against the wall, her mouth following to crash into his.

A surprised sound left his throat that turned into a guttural groan when it registered she was kissing him; his arms wrapped around her back to pull her closer to his body, sliding a hand down the rough denim of her jacket to the buttery soft satin of her dress skirt to grab her ass.

It was obvious she was turned on, and he moaned when she palmed his dick over the front of his jeans. He didn’t need to ask what had gotten into her and had her all over him in a random alley; he knew it was because of how he talked to his ex, and honestly, listening to her lay into Lorraine on his behalf had his pants feeling tighter.

Her tongue licked hotly into his mouth to massage his own, and this was just what he wanted—to make out with the love of his life after they both told off the witch that ruined his life. Adrenaline was running high in each of them, and it was making them horny.

She had his body lighting up, prickling sensations shooting through him and making him thicken in his jeans. It got to the point where his lungs started to ache for oxygen, and her lips left his to sloppily kiss over his chin and along his jaw, as they panted.

“I wanna suck your dick.” Her sentence was muffled into his skin, her hand lightly squeezing over his half-hard cock.

“We’re not supposed to do shit in public anymore,” he breathily replied.

He’d love to get a blow job; however, he was acutely aware of their surroundings and the fact there was a steady stream of people passing by the mouth of the alleyway.

Her lips were on his neck, and it had him breathing hard as she licked and sucked at the sensitive skin, the scrape of her teeth making him shiver.

“That was before you were really sexy and went off on that stupid bitch.”

It was tempting. He glanced toward the sidewalk and realized how visible they were; anyone walking by could just look their way and see everything going on. They had too close of a call at the beach when the lifeguard showed up right as Javier was about to take off her pants; then there was the fact people heard them fucking in the bathroom at a bar—too many risks had been taken over the last few days, and he knew their luck would run out sooner rather than later, and he didn’t want to spend his birthday in jail; his dad would be so disappointed, and Steve would never let him hear the end of it.

He swallowed hard.

“You can’t suck my dick here,” his words came out rough.

Her head popped up with a look of confusion.

“Why not?”

“Because I love you, and it’s too fucking risky. I also don’t want your knees to get dirty.”

She pouted. “But you were so hot, you deserve a blow job.”

He smiled. “You can give me one when we get home or if you really wanna play with fire on our way home.”

She breathed out a long sigh. “Fine.”

He took her chin between two fingers, his gaze moving between her eyes and mouth, wanting to kiss her.

“Good girl,” he rasped.

His hand moved to cradle the back of her head, and he pulled her forward to smash his lips with hers, kissing her hard—his other arm was around her back as he turned her, pressing her spine to the brick wall while she clutched at the shirt over his chest, and he fit his thigh beneath her dress, between her legs for something to grind on.

He swallowed her moan, a sharp spike of arousal stabbing him in the gut at feeling the heat of her bare pussy through his jeans—he’d thought she was wearing lingerie under that pretty dress, but it looked like she was wearing nothing and that had blood rushing to his groin. She rocked her hips for some friction while his tongue delved into her mouth to tangle with hers.

This was safe—all people would see was them making out like a couple of teenagers. They weren’t doing anything illegal by kissing, though her getting off on his leg would probably be frowned upon.

Javier didn’t care; he wanted her to feel good, and he was in heaven getting to kiss her—he loved the feel of her lips against his and how their tongues danced together in a familiar routine. He loved the slight taste of her cherry-flavored chapstick and hearing her breathy moans and whimpers as she used his thigh to get herself off. He loved the softness of her body pressing into his and the heady smell of her perfume that made him think of his face buried in her neck while she held him in the comfort of her arms.

He loved her.

And just a kiss had him drunk on her—her smell, her feel, her taste, it all consumed him, making her every thought in his brain.

Her arousal seeped from her cunt, and he could feel a wet spot forming on the denim covering his thigh, her hips rolling to chase her release. His big hands grabbed onto her waist to help her move against the firm muscle, his cock now fully erect and straining in his pants.

He spoke into her lips, low enough for no one to overhear, “Are you gonna come for me? Are you gonna get off riding my thigh?”

“Yes,” she moaned.

“Good—use me, baby—make yourself feel good. I wanna wear your come on my jeans, Cielito.” He nipped at her bottom lip. “Mark me with it so everyone knows I’m yours. Make a mess of me, mi amor—keep rubbing that perfect clit for me.”

Her mouth separated from his, trailing wet kisses over the line of his jaw, to his neck, Javier’s eyes rolling back when she sucked over his pulse point hard enough to leave a mark—arousal was burning hot in his belly, sparks skittering through his body.

His voice was ragged, “I love you so fucking much.” He cupped her face, moving her head to get his mouth back on hers. “You were so fucking sexy sticking up for me,” he murmured against her lips. “I’m yours; all of me belongs to you. I’ll fight for you, I’d die for you, I’d go to war for you. I’ll do anything to keep you safe, and I won’t let anyone fuck with you.” He kissed her. “You’re mine—you’re my everything, and when we get home, you can have me however you want.” Grabbing her hand, he pressed it to his hard-on. “This is yours.” He put her palm over his heart. “This belongs to you.”

“I’m close,” she moaned.

Both of his hands moved to grip the globes of her ass over her dress, canting her hips back and forth, assisting her movements. "Come on, mi amor, come for me. Keep riding my thigh with that pretty pussy, and come."

His mouth claimed hers once more, dampening her sounds and deepening the kiss with a press of his tongue between her lips.

Moments passed of their mouths fused together and her wet cunt grinding against the flexed muscles of his thigh, when she hit her peak, her motions stopping, and her body tensing up tight, coming with a loud moan that vibrated in the back of her throat. He broke the kiss, sharing her panted breaths.

"Good girl," he purred and caressed her cheek, pecking her on the lips before they blazed a trail across her jaw to her neck, where he tasted her salty skin, kissing and sucking at it as she came down from her high.

It took a minute for her to speak.

"It's your birthday," she said, "why am I getting all of the orgasms? There was this morning in the bathroom, and now this. How do you not have blue balls?"

His head lifted to look her in the eyes with a smile. “It is my birthday, and I’m doing something I love, which is making you come, and yeah, my balls are aching a bit from not getting off, but I’m saving myself for tonight because I’m curious about what you have planned—I saw you put the sex towel on the bed before we left the apartment."

The sex towel was a big, thick, black towel they brought out when they didn’t want to dirty the bedding, like if she was on her period or he was in the mood to make her squirt—it kept things from getting too messy. If the sex towel was out, it meant they were gonna have some fun, and he was dying to know what she intended to use it for.

She laughed, looping her arms around his neck. “I’m not gonna spoil the surprise,” she said, smiling big. “But you’re gonna lose your fucking mind and probably ask me to marry you again.” Her eyebrows wagged.

That had excitement thrumming through him.

He grinned. “It wouldn’t take much to make me propose to you again.”

“That’s true.” His fiancee nodded. “You, sir—” She poked him in the chest. “—are incredibly whipped.” She flicked her wrist and made a noise like she was cracking a whip, which made Javier chuckle.

“Yes, I fucking am,” he said proudly.

“God, it’s so hot how much you’re into me.”

“Yeah—gets me going how much you love me, too.”

“The sweetest man,” she replied, leaning forward to kiss him. Her eyes were on his when she pulled back. “We better get going. We’re gonna be late to dinner.”

“Shit.” He checked his watch, then looked at her. “Pop’s probably wondering where the fuck we are.” Javier stepped away from her and turned his back to the alley’s entrance to adjust himself in his jeans and hide his hard dick by trapping it under his waistband—a dark patch had formed over the denim covering his thigh from her come.

Facing her again, his hands held her face, and he kissed her tenderly, his gaze on hers when they separated, and his lips turned up in a soft smile—she looked just as happy and so fucking beautiful. He was kicking himself in the ass for not taking a picture of her before they left for dinner.

“I love you,” he said. “Thank you.” His thumbs stroked across the apples of her cheeks.

Her eyebrows furrowed. “For what?”

“Loving me, marrying me, protecting me, making me happy—I can keep going.” He smiled. “Thank you for being with me and changing my life for the better; thank you for giving me shit to actually live for. And today, thank you for making this the best birthday I’ve had in a long time.”

“Even with what happened earlier?”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “I love it when you defend me, and it felt fucking amazing to go off on her—it was long overdue.”

“It was, and I’m proud of you.” She kissed him. “You also have nothing to thank me for—I love you, and all I want is for you to be happy.”

“I’m so fucking happy.”

Nothing was more true.

Javi was glued to your side as you walked the rest of the way to the restaurant. His arm was across your shoulders, keeping you tucked against him while his head was tilted your way, chatting about nothing important.

Before arriving at your destination, ringing sounded from inside your purse, and you wondered who would be calling. It took you a second to feel around in your bag to get the sturdy Nokia phone out, seeing your best friend’s name on the screen. You and Javi moved to the side of the sidewalk and out of the way of the other pedestrians.

“Robyn’s calling.” Confusion was laced in your tone.

“Didn’t you tell her we were going out tonight?” Javi asked.

“Yeah, this afternoon when I called her to debrief about our trip. I wonder what she wants.”

You hit the answer button and put the cell phone to your ear.

“Hello?” you said.

Her best friend spoke in her Texas twang. “What the fuck happened with Lorraine?”

“Hi to you, too—how in the world do you already know about that? It’s been fifteen minutes!”

“I’m at my mama’s, and she got a call from her neighbor, Miss Caroline, down the road, who heard from Mrs. Bell, whose daughter, Bernice, works at the jewelry shop downtown that Lorraine got into a screamin’ match with Javier Peña and the nurse he’s datin’ on the sidewalk outside the store—girl, you better spill.”

You were taken aback by how quickly word had spread.

“I cannot believe people are already talking about it…”

“Somethin’ excitin’ like Lorraine and Javier Peña havin’ a public quarrel? Of course, the news is gonna travel fast! You know better than anyone people still talk about their failed wedding.”

She made you frown. “That I do.”

“So, what happened? Tell me everythin’.”

“Well, Javi and I were minding our business, heading to meet his dad for dinner, when we ran into Lorraine, Tammy, and some other woman I didn’t care to get the name of—”

“Probably Tracy-Anne Walker,” Robyn interrupted. “She just goes by Tracy these days and is tight with Lorraine and her cousins.”

“Maybe?” you replied. “Anyways, we tried to ignore them, but Lorraine decided to open her big, stupid mouth to say some shitty things about Javi, and if he hadn’t held me back, I would’ve kicked her ass—instead, I called her out on being a jealous bitch because he’s with me, and Javi got a chance to lay into her, and finally, tell her to shut the fuck up. It was great; I thought her head was going to explode with how red she turned. Hopefully, she’ll leave us the fuck alone from now on.”

“I’m upset I missed the drama. From what I heard, after you guys left, Lorraine had a meltdown and had to be dragged back to their car.”

“Good. And that’s all that happened.”

“It’s surprisin’ y’all hadn’t crossed paths until now. It’s good you put her in her place.”

It was surprising you hadn’t had another encounter with her since the first one.

“There’s no way in hell I’d stand by and let someone talk to Javi like that,” you said, “and now she knows we’re not fucking around.”

“Yes, she does. Okay, I’ll let you get back to your evenin’. Tell Javi happy birthday from me again, and Chucho, hi.”

“Will do.”

“See you tomorrow at work.”

“See you.”

You clicked the end call button, and put the phone back in your purse.

“Everyone knows?” Javi asked, taking your hand.

“Yep,” you answered and started walking with him.

He breathed out a long, weary sigh. “Of course—this town is full of fucking gossips.”

“It’s annoying as fuck when you’re the gossip, but I’m guilty of enjoying hearing the tea.”

​​"I am, too—I love it when you tell me about what's going on at the hospital."

"And I love when you bring home hot goss from work—still not over that deputy finding out his wife was having an affair when he saw her at the motel he was doing a drug bust at."

It happened in a neighboring city.

"Yeah, talk about a fucking coincidence."

The place he chose for dinner was relatively new to Laredo. It was a nice steakhouse that only served locally sourced beef and had the best steaks in town. The owner was a local who'd gone to some fancy culinary school and spent time working in a Michelin-star restaurant before coming back home to open this one, and the food was surprisingly good.

Inside, the lights were slightly muted, the brick walls decorated in paintings of pastures, with some featuring cattle grazing. A bar was on one side of the place that could've come from an Old West saloon with all of the carefully crafted mahogany wood.

It was easy to spot Chucho when you arrived, the older man waving you over to the booth he was in. His white straw cowboy hat was sitting on the table with a cold bottle of beer and three menus, the man getting up as you approached with a beaming smile.

"Hola, mis hijos (Hello, my children)," he greeted and gave you a big bear hug when you were close enough, then a simpler hug to Javi that included some back pats. He looked your way when he stepped back. “Quiero ver el anillo (I want to see the ring).”

Holding out your hand, he took it in one of his as he admired the engagement ring through his glasses—the gold band that used to belong to his wife with a decent-sized princess cut diamond in the middle, flanked by two smaller ones on either side of it, Chucho’s eyes beginning to shine.

“Es hermoso (It’s beautiful),” he said. Glancing at Javi to your right, he continued, “A tu mamá le encantaría que intercambiaste el diamante original por algo más grande y estaría muy orgullosa de ti, Mijo (Your mom would love that you exchanged the original diamond with something bigger and she would be so proud of you, Mijo). Ella estaría tan feliz (She would be so happy). Permítanme tomar una foto (Let me take a picture).” He turned back to the table, lifting his hat to get his camera under it, and faced you again.

“De verdad, Pop (Really, Pop)?” Javi asked. “Quieres tomar una foto aquí (You want to take a photo here)?”

“Sí (Yes).” He nodded. “Quiero tomar una foto de la primera vez que la vi usándolo (I want to take a photo of the first time I saw her wearing it)—dale un respiro a tu padre (give your father a break). Estoy emocionado (I’m excited).”

“Yeah, Javi,” you said, looking over at your fiancé with a smile. “Let your dad enjoy this.”

“Fine,” Javi replied, wrapping his arm around you to pull you against his side.

Chucho put the camera up to his face. “Okay, Mija, put your left hand on his chest so we can see the ring.” You turned your body toward your future husband and pressed your left palm over his heart. “Perfect. Now smile—a bigger smile than that, Javier, you’re getting married!”

“Sorry,” Javi said. “People are staring.” He hugged you closer to him.

“That’s better.” The flash went off, making you blink as spots dotted your vision. The camera was lowered. “See, that wasn’t so bad. Now, please sit. I want to hear about your trip.”

“Thank Christ,” Javi said under his breath and let you scoot into the side of the booth you were going to share.

A server came over to get your drink orders the moment the three of you had settled in your seats, and Chucho put the camera back under his cowboy hat. Javi’s arm was around your back, with his hand under your jacket, drawing shapes against your dress-covered hip with his fingertip.

“How are Connie, Steve, and the kids?” the older man asked. He picked up his beer and took a drink.

“They’re great,” Javi answered. “Olivia’s Spanish has gotten better, and the boys have grown a lot since the last time I saw them. Steve and Connie are doing good, too.”

Chucho set the bottle down. “Good, good.” His dad nodded. “I’ll have to call Connie this week and catch up—I love talking to her. What’d you guys do while you were there, besides getting engaged?” He was smiling.

“We hung out with the Murphys,” Javi said. “Spent a day at the beach, went out for drinks with Steve and Connie, babysat the kids so they could have some time alone, and yesterday they threw me a small birthday party.”

“That was sweet of them. Did you get any gifts?”

“Yeah.” Javi smiled. “The kids made me cards, and I got a framed picture of me with them from my last visit.”

“I can’t wait to see it.” His attention turned to you. “Did you have fun and enjoy meeting Javi’s friends?”

“Yeah!” you answered. “They were wonderful and so welcoming. I had a great time, and I loved going to the beach. It was also really cute to see how Javi acts with the children—they love him so much.”

“I’ve heard.” He grinned. “He’s gonna be a great dad, which speaking of that—” he looked at the seat next to him toward the wall and picked up a large manila envelope he set on the table in front of you both, his eyes back on you. “—I said I’d put our deal in writing, and there it is.” He nodded at it.

Javi picked it up and unclasped the flap, pulling out a small, stapled stack of papers. His eyes moved over the first page before flipping through the others, the last one containing some kind of official seal and signatures.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” Javi said in disbelief. His gaze landed on his dad. “You had your lawyer write up an agreement for you babysitting and us living with you?” He held up the stack. “You even have a rental agreement in here stating you won’t accept rent from us.”

“Figured that’d be good to have on paper.” Chucho shrugged. “You’re my son—” His head turned toward you. “—and my daughter-in-law and I won’t have you paying to live with me. Just having you there will be enough, and hopefully, I’ll have a nieto (grandchild) there, too.”

Leaning into Javi, you whispered, “You owe me twenty bucks.”

“Yeah, I do,” he said. “I can’t believe you went through all this trouble, Pop.”

“I needed you two to know I was serious, and what better way than a legal document.” He looked very proud of himself. “It was also time I met with my lawyer to update my will. We always had it that Javi would get everything, but I wanted to make sure you inherited all of mi Antonia’s jewelry and her recipe box, Mija.”

“Oh,” you breathed, your eyes suddenly burning. “You didn’t have to do that,” you told him.

His gaze was on yours, his mouth turned up in a sweet smile. “Yes, I did. It was important to me those things would go to you, even though I’m sure Javi would’ve given them to you anyway. I also wanted there to be something in there about the ranch staying in the family—I know you’ll have your new home to raise your children in and won’t need my old one, but I hope after I’m gone, one of your kids will want it.”

“Yeah,” Javier said, his voice thick from the emotional subject. “Of course, Pop. We’d never let anything happen to the ranch or your house.”

“Good.” He passed each of you a menu and took one for himself, his eyes scanning over it. “Let’s figure out what we’re eating and talk about happier things.”

Your future husband put the agreement back in the envelope and handed it to you to set out of the way on the booth seat beside you. The server returned with your drinks and a basket of freshly baked bread with soft butter, telling you they’d return to take your orders in a few minutes. As you all read over your menus, you idly chatted about the choices and were ready when the employee returned to find out what you’d decided on, taking the menus with them when they left.

“So,” Chucho started, his hand wrapped around the glass bottle in front of him, “have you had any ideas for your wedding?” His eyes went to Javi. “I can talk to Padre (Father) Jorge if you want to get married in the same church as your mamá and me. I still go there, and since you were baptized, I’m sure I can convince him to let you—he officiated a wedding there not too long ago between Juan Barocio’s oldest son and a nice Protestant girl.” He lifted his beer to his lips for another drink.

It was sweet of him to offer, and he was probably hoping you’d accept, but Javier and you didn’t want to have a big wedding and had no desire to get married in a church.

“Actually, Pop,” Javi said, adjusting in his seat to lean closer to the table and rest his arms on it, “we talked out what we want to do for our wedding.”

The bottle was set on the table again, and the elder Peña’s face brightened. “What have you decided?”

“You know the big oak tree up on the hill, you and mamá would take me to for picnics?”

“Yes.” He nodded. “Somewhere on the trunk, I carved her and my initials.”

No wonder that spot was so special to your betrothed; it was somewhere he had fond memories of and had made new ones with you there, too.

“Yeah, you showed me,” Javi replied. “We wanna get married there at sunset with just you, Seb, and Robyn with us, and afterward, we wanna have a party at your place—if you’re okay with it—to celebrate with everyone.”

Chucho’s expression had gone soft. “That would be a beautiful way to marry your media naranja (soulmate), Mijo, and of course, we can throw a party. Have you picked out a date?”

Javi and you looked at each other. “Hopefully, in about a month,” you answered.

“I’ll call Padre Jorge tomorrow to see when he’s available,” the older man said.

Your fiancé faced his dad. “We don’t want Padre Jorge to officiate,” Javi informed him with a shake of his head.

Chucho looked confused. “Did you have someone else in mind?”

“You.”

His father’s eyebrows lifted almost to his hairline. “Me?” He pointed at himself. “I’d be honored to do it, but Mijo, I’m not ordained—if I marry you, the law wouldn’t recognize your marriage; you wouldn’t be legally married.”

“We have a solution to that,” you said and met his eyes. “There’s this church that will let you get ordained through the internet.”

He frowned. “I don’t have a computer and have never used one... I wouldn’t know how to do something like that…”

“Easy solution: we can take you to the library, and I’ll help you—Javi can just watch since he hates computers and types with his index fingers.” You imitated the way he typed by pressing the fingertips of your pointer fingers against the tabletop, pretending there was a keyboard.

All of the times you’d visited him at his office, you’d never seen him touch his desktop computer once; you had, however, seen him use his typewriter and were absolutely tickled by how he stared at the keys like they insulted his mother and only used two fingers to hit them.

Javi looked at you. “Are you seriously making fun of how I type?”

Your head turned his way. “Lovingly,” you answered. “I’m lovingly making fun of how you type like an old man.”

He breathed out a sigh and focused his attention on his dad. “Anyways, what my rude, future wife is trying to say, is she’ll handle the computer shit, and we'll just be there for moral support.” His hand gripped your thigh under the table. “Isn’t that right, honey?” he asked you.

Your eyes narrowed in his direction. “Did you just honey me? You have never honeyed me—Cielito, amor, hermosa, cariño, baby, babe, light of my life, The Artist Formerly Known As Prince, and Your Royal Highness, Queen of my heart, are all acceptable terms of endearment, that are incredibly sweet, and cause me to swoon like a Victorian woman who’s caught a glimpse of a male wrist; honey makes me feel like you’re mad at me or being condescending, which I know, it’s what Steve calls Connie, but they’re so… vanilla.”

“Is that your nice way of saying boring?” His amused gaze met yours.

“I mean… you said it.”

“They are vanilla, and I’m sorry, baby,” he said, rubbing his hand over your leg. “Let me try again—isn’t that right, Your Royal Highness, Queen of my Heart?”

You giggled and playfully smacked his arm. “You smartass. I do kinda like that, though. Back to our discussion.” Your focus shifted to Chucho. “Yes, I’ll handle the computer and do all the work while the two of you stand behind me looking handsome.”

The elder Peña chuckled. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll get ordained if you’ll help me do it. I’m touched you want me to be a part of your special day.”

“There was no version of our wedding where you weren’t there, Pop,” you truthfully told him. “We love you, and you’re important to both of us.” You gestured between yourself and Javi. “Having you officiate one of the happiest moments of our lives would mean the world to us and was how we hoped we’d be married.”

The older man’s eyes had gotten watery as you spoke, and he had to take off his glasses to wipe at them.

“Yo también te amo, mis hijos (I love you, too, my children). Me han hecho el padre más feliz y orgulloso (You have made me the happiest and proudest father). Desearía que mi Amor estuviera aquí para compartir esta felicidad conmigo (I wish my Love was here to share this happiness with me). Tengo que ir a verla mañana para darle la noticia (I have to go see her tomorrow to tell her the news). Ella estaría muy emocionada (She’d be so excited).” He sniffled, putting his glasses back on. “¿La visitaste hoy (Did you visit her today)? Le costaría creer que su nene tenía cuarenta años (She’d have a hard time believing her baby boy was forty years old).”

“Sí, Pop (Yes, Pop).” Javi answered. “Nos detuvimos en nuestro camino hacia aquí (We stopped on our way here). Nosotros necesitábamos (We needed to).”

“Bueno, bueno (Good, good).” He held his son’s gaze. “Feliz cumpleaños, Javiercito (Happy birthday, Javier). Te has hecho un hombre increíble y no podría estar más orgulloso de ti (You have become an incredible man and I couldn’t be more proud of you). Sé que tu vida no ha sido fácil, y como tu padre, me mató ver todo lo que has tenido que pasar sin tener ninguna manera de detenerlo (I know your life hasn’t been easy, and as your father, it killed me to see everything you had to go through without having a way to stop it). Me siento aliviado de que finalmente estés a salvo en casa, donde perteneces, y de que hayas conocido a una mujer maravillosa que te hace sonreír y te ama tanto como tú la amas a ella (I’m relieved that you’re finally safe at home, where you belong, and that you met a wonderful woman who makes you smile and loves you as much as you love her). Tu madre y yo rezamos durante años para que seas feliz de nuevo, y ahora lo eres (Your mother and I have prayed for years for you to be happy again, and now you are). Esperábamos que encontraras a tu media naranja y tuvieras tu propia familia, y finalmente está sucediendo (We hoped you’d find your soulmate and have your own family, and it’s finally happening). No he estado tan feliz desde que tu mamá estaba viva y aún vivíste en casa con nosotros (I haven’t been this happy since your mom was alive and you still lived at home with us). Feliz cumpleaños, Mijo (Happy birthday, Mijo).” He held up his beer. “Se te ha dado una segunda oportunidad en la vida y esta vez, sé que estará llena de felicidad y amor (You’ve been given a second chance at life, and this time, I know it will be filled with happiness and love)—finalmente estás obteniendo todas las cosas buenas que te mereces (You’re finally getting all of the happy things you deserve).”

Glancing over at Javi, his cheeks were wet, and you leaned your head against his shoulder as you raised your glasses. The two men took drinks before you all set them down.

“Gracias, Pop (Thank you, Pop),” Javi said. His hand lightly squeezed your thigh, and you grabbed it to lace your fingers together. “It’s been a great birthday.”

“I’m glad, Mijo,” Chucho replied. “That reminds me, did the two of you really have an, eh, altercado con Lorraine en su camino hacia aquí (altercation with Lorraine on your way here)?”

“Lorraine started it!” Javi and you said at the same time.

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Learning to Live Part 30

summary: Sunday—it’s Javier’s 40th birthday, and you have some sexy surprises planned for when you get home from dinner. Monday—you’re back at work after your lovely vacation, and it’s time to bite the bullet and tell your disapproving family that you’re getting married. You can probably guess how well that goes over…

rating: E (18+! A good chunk of this is about birthday sex. No y/n, alternating POV, age gap (around ten years), unprotected p in v (wrap it up), creampie, oral sex (m & f receiving), 69, face sitting, butt plugs (f), anal play (f receiving), double penetration, breeding kink, lingerie, nude photos, dirty talk, praise kink, spanking, spit mention, waxing poetic about Javier’s dick, getting KO’d from orgasms, banter, domestic fluff, fluff, emotional hurt/comfort, death of a parent/grief, dysfunctional family, arguing, period typical sexism, spoiling Javier for his birthday, nurse stories (humorous), Javier being the little spoon, discussion about eating habits, Javier making you post-sex food, a special guest makes an appearance)

pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader (reader is a nurse with no physical descriptions)

word count: 16.8k (Why am I like this?)

a/n: This chapter was supposed to be solely about birthday sex, but something happened, I’m not sure what, and somehow there’s a lot of plot in it now? I apologize. I am at the mercy of the characters. I hope you enjoy! Thank you to the love of my life @juletheghoul, for betaing! You’re incredible.

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to know what you thought!

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There was a game Javier liked to play when you went out to eat with people and were seated next to one another. It was kind of like Chicken, where two cars drive toward each other, and one of them has to swerve, or else they’ll crash—basically, it was a test to see how ballsy you were and how much of a risk you were willing to take to come out as the victor. In Javi’s version, it involved his hand under the table on your knee that would slowly creep up your thigh and under your dress, if you were wearing one, or along your pant-covered leg to try and make it to his goal nestled between your thighs—it was up to you to determine how far he’d get. Were you going to chicken out and stop his movements? Or were you going to be ballsy and let him get to the finish line? Honestly, it depended on how you were feeling and who you were with because it was really distracting when he rubbed your pussy in the middle of trying to have a conversation with someone. Still, the game was a lot of fun, and sometimes you liked to mess with him by letting him get almost all the way to his prize before you denied him, just to keep him on his toes.

Another thing was that there wasn’t always one round. Sometimes, he’d wait a bit and try his luck, again and again, to see how many attempts it’d take to get to the Tootsie Roll center of your Tootsie Pop—unless you told him to stop, then his hand would make itself at home, holding your thigh.

Tonight was Javi's 40th birthday, and you'd gone out to dinner with his father. Usually, on such a special day—and the fact you were always horny for him—you'd allow his palm to reach its destination. This evening, however, you had stopped all of his attempts and wouldn't let him get very far since you didn't want to ruin the surprise that was hiding under your dress—and your fiancé was very, very curious about what your undergarment situation was, getting to the point you kept his hand still between your closed thighs until it was time to leave.

The meal and catching up with Chucho had been wonderful—hanging out with your soon-to-be father-in-law was always a great time.

On the morning that you called the older man to tell him about your engagement, you laughed when he said he'd have something put in writing about his promises that he'd love you both living with him and wouldn't mind if there was a newborn there, too. You were well aware of his eagerness to have grandchildren and bet Javi twenty dollars his dad was going to show up today with legal documents on the matter, and you'd been right—he had a large manila envelope with an agreement he had his lawyer put together inside for you. Once dinner was done, you found out that wasn't all he brought; Chucho presented Javi with a Tupperware container filled with a big slice of tres leches cake his tía María made from his mother’s recipe. As he ate, his dad quietly serenaded him with a song called “Las Mañanitas,” much to his chagrin, the first part being:

“Estas son las mañanitas, que cantaba el Rey David, (This is the morning song that King David sang), Hoy por ser día de tu santo, te las cantamos a ti, (Because today is your saint’s day, we’re singing it for you), Despierta, mi Javi, despierta, mira que ya amaneció, (Wake up, mi Javi, wake up, look it is already dawn), Ya los pajarillos cantan, la luna ya se metió, (The birds are already singing, and the moon has set).”

There was a promise between the three of you that the restaurant staff wouldn’t be alerted that it was Javier’s birthday in order to avoid the employees bringing attention to him and singing; he didn’t, however, put any restrictions on his father or you singing to him, and Chucho was happily exploiting that loophole while his son grumpily devoured his cake he shared with you.

Javi wasn’t actually annoyed with his dad—he had the Tupperware practically licked clean by the time you were ready to go, and before you left, he gave his dad a big hug and whispered his thanks for having the cake made since it was something his mother always baked for their birthdays.

The big 4-0 was a milestone that usually involved a celebration, but your fiancé had declined his father and three tías offers to throw him a party and told everyone he didn’t want any gifts—he was determined not to make it a big deal, and only desired to have dinner with you and Chucho; the tres leches cake was a wonderful surprise, and definitely appreciated, though.

All of that brings you to where you were currently—sitting beside Javi on the bench seat of his truck as he drove you home. He’d pulled up your dress to bare your knee, resting his hand on it, and you were wondering when he would give his game another go; you knew him and that there was no way he’d be able to resist trying again, now that you were alone.

"Did you enjoy your birthday?" you asked, doing your best to keep your squirming to a minimum as you tried to find a comfortable position.

"Yeah," he answered, glancing at you with a smile. "I loved spending the day with you, seeing my mom—" You stopped by the cemetery on your way to dinner to tell her about your engagement. "—and going to dinner with Pop. Today was nice."

You hugged his arm. "I'm happy you had a good day, even though a certain someone—" Lorraine. "—tried to ruin it. Do you think she'll listen and leave us alone?" There'd been an altercation with her on your walk to the restaurant, and Javi finally had his chance to give her a piece of his mind and threaten her and her family with restraining orders if they didn't stop bothering you.

His eyes were back on the road, a frown replacing his smile.

"Maybe? She's been dead set on making my life difficult since I left her, and I don't know if she'll be able to give up."

"Guess we'll just have to see." A change in subject was needed. "Sooo, do you have any requests for tonight?"

His fingers stroked the inside of your knee.

"What do you mean?"

He started slowly moving his hand along your thigh, your palm resting on his jean-covered leg.

"You know exactly what I mean. It's your birthday, so you get anything you want."

He turned his head your way for a few seconds.

“I thought you had tonight planned.”

"I do." You nodded. "But you're the birthday boy, and I wanna make sure to include any specific desires you may have for this evening."

His focus went to what was in front of him, his fingers skating up your inner thigh and under your dress.

"Hmmm," he hummed. "I know you don't want to spoil tonight, but will I get to eat your pussy?"

"If you want to, sure."

"Are you gonna suck my dick?"

"Oh, yeah."

"Will I get to come inside you?"

There was a pause for a moment as you figured out how to respond. "...yes?"

He looked over at you with a curious expression. "That's... interesting. With how you answered, I'll be coming inside you, but not where I imagined…"

You frowned. "Javier, it is your birthday, and I won't have you ruining my surprises by you going all Detective Peña on me." To end the sentence, you squeezed your thighs shut to trap his hand and keep it from moving any further.

Your reaction made him pout and turn his attention back to the road.

"Fine," he said. "I won't think about it." He sighed. "I know you're not wearing panties. I won't be ruining any surprises if you let me touch you."

"Sure, but I want you to wait until we get home so you can undress me."

"Okay."

You rubbed his arm with your free hand. "Patience, baby—you're gonna have a great time."

His eyes met yours, and he smiled. "I know, mi amor (my love), and I'm fucking excited." He moved his hand out from between your legs to grab your smaller one on his thigh, pressing your palm against where he was half-hard beneath his jeans.

"You are excited,” you purred, rubbing him over his pants. “Better get you nice and hard before we get home.”

“With what I’m hoping will happen tonight? That won’t be an issue, Cielito.”

Once you arrived at your shared apartment, you hung up the jean jacket you were wearing, setting your purse onto the console table near the front door, Javi emptying his pockets into the large bowl on top of it. Both of you kicked off your shoes, and your fiancé laid his folded sports coat over the back of the couch before he was on you, his lips hungrily colliding with yours in a searing kiss—one of his arms went around you to pull you flush against him, his other hand cradling the back of your head, making you moan when he eagerly licked into your mouth.

His kisses were sweet from the cake, tasting it on his tongue, arousal burning hot in your abdomen. He had your toes curling and skin vibrating, wanting him so bad, and he seemed to want you just as much when he turned and walked you toward your room with your lips fused together.

Anticipation was swelling inside you, butterflies going wild in your tummy at hoping Javi really did enjoy what you had in store for him.

As your feet moved, your hands worked open the buttons on his shirt, rubbing your palms up the warm skin of his torso once it was bared, feeling the soft give of his belly to his muscular chest—moving higher along his neck, cupping his cheeks, then pressing your fingers into his soft hair.

The moment you stepped into your room, he unzipped the back of your dress and moved you a little further inside to have you at the end of your big, king-sized bed. Javi broke the kiss, shrugging off his shirt that fell to the floor, his hungry gaze focusing on your chest—he was careful when he took the red, satiny shoulder straps into his hands, and pulled the dress down and off your arms, revealing your bosom, and letting gravity take the rest of it to the ground, where it pooled around your feet.

“Fuck,” he breathed. Javi was unable to stop himself; it was as if there was some kind of magnetic pull that had his hand reaching to palm your lace-covered breast. His eyes had darkened, the front of his jeans bulging where he was straining against the zipper. "This is what you've been hiding all night?" he asked, his free palm massaging your other tit.

His reaction made you feel good about your choice of lingerie.

The red teddy covered most of your breasts and down your ribs in sheer lace with laces crisscrossing from one side to the other on the front and back to keep the pieces together; the best part about it, and what you knew was Javi’s favorite part, was the fact nothing was covering your crotch or ass—it was put on like a one-piece swimsuit, your legs going through two thin straps, with the rest of the bottom completely bare.

There was a similar teddy you owned in a pretty plum color that covered more of your skin in lace.

"Yes," you answered. "Do you like it?"

His gaze met yours, and he stepped into your space, his big hands going around to grab your bare backside.

He was smirking with his eyebrow raised. "Do I like it?" he rasped. Javi squeezed your ass. "You know I fucking love it, mi amor (my love)." His lips met yours, kissing you quickly before he ended it with a playful nip to your bottom lip, pulling his head back to look at you. "You're so fucking sexy—Christ, I want you so fucking bad."

Your hands slid up his chest to caress his cheeks, smiling at him.

"I have another surprise for you..." you said.

His eyes rounded. "There's more?" he asked.

You booped him on the nose with your finger. "Yep," you answered. "You're getting spoiled tonight."

"You don't need to spoil me."

"Um, yes, I do. It's your special day. Plus, you spoiled me on my birthday by letting me tie you up and edge you—this is me making sure your night is just as wonderful." You poked him over his pec.

He grabbed your hand, bringing it up to kiss your knuckles as he smiled. "Happy fucking birthday to me."

"Yes, now, pants off, mister,” you ordered. “I don't want you coming in them." The sentence was punctuated with a wink.

What you said made him chuckle. "Yes, ma'am."

Stepping back from him, his hands went to the front of his jeans to quickly get them off. His belt clinked as he worked it open, hearing the teeth separate when he undid his zipper, the pants getting shoved down his legs, Javi having to do the awkward dance of lifting each foot to tug them off, along with his socks.

Once he was completely naked, he closed the distance between you, his big palms holding your face when he crushed his mouth to yours, kissing you hard. You snaked your hand down into the tight space your bodies had created to grab his throbbing cock, the skin velvety soft and hot to the touch, making him moan into the kiss. His hips bucked forward in your grip while you slowly pumped him. His hand massaged your breast and tweaked your nipple through the lace, his other palm tracing along your jawbone, the shell of your ear, and down to your neck, he gently held as you kissed, leaving a trail of fire under your skin.

"Let me show you your surprise," you murmured against his lips.

"'Mmkay," he said and didn't stop kissing you.

It was up to you to break away from him, Javi chasing your mouth when you did, making you grin and press your hand to his chest to softly push him back—his eyes were closed, his lips turned up in a smile, looking so unbelievably happy.

"Adorable," you whispered.

His chest was slightly heaving from his heavy breaths, his lips red and shining from saliva.

"Open those pretty brown eyes, babe,” you told him. “It’s time for your surprise." They blinked open, and he grabbed your waist.

"What is it?" he asked, his head dipping to kiss along the column of your throat. You took one of his hands and slid it behind you over your ass to between your cheeks.

His breath caught in his throat, his face popping up to meet your eyes with a look of surprise.

“Holy fuck,” he gasped. “Is that…?”

His reaction made you grin even bigger. “A very cute butt plug? Yes, it is.”

The plug was made out of smooth pink-colored glass with a tapered tip and bulbous body, the slender neck making it easy for your tight muscles to wrap around it and hold it in place, the flared base covering your hole shaped into a daisy flower.

As you said, it was very cute and filled you nicely—any time you moved, it had a tingle dancing up your spine, fueling the arousal sparking in your tummy.

His fingers were mapping out the flower, gliding over the petals, his gaze locking onto yours, seeing his cheeks had a lovely pink tint.

"Does this mean what I think it means…?" he asked with hope gleaming in those big, gorgeous brown eyes of his.

"That you can fuck my ass? Yes." You nodded. "I figured the toy would save us some time stretching me out."

He looked beyond delighted. "I am so fucking hard right now—how long have you been wearing it?"

"Since I excused myself at dinner to use the ladies' room—spoiler, I was in there getting this inside me; I brought lube and everything."

He was smiling. "My dirty fucking girl." His hand, not on your ass, came up to cup your cheek. "You kept adjusting in your seat when you got back, I thought you were horny—it's why I kept trying to touch your pussy—confused the fuck out of me that you wouldn't let me."

"I didn't want you to discover the lingerie or accidentally feel the plug."

"I get that now—can I see it?"

"Of course." You kissed him quickly and took a few steps to crawl up onto the bed, your hands and knees sinking into the mattress as you got onto all fours to present your ass to him. Seconds later, his warm palms were grabbing your asscheeks, spreading them.

You looked over your shoulder, and his eyes were glued to your backside.

"It’s so fucking pretty," he mused, rubbing a thumb over the base. “Can I take a picture?”

“Need it for your spank bank collection?”

In his bedside table was a stack of your nude Polaroids he liked to jack off to when the need very rarely arose.

His gaze lifted to yours with a smile. “Yeah, I do.”

“Then go for it.”

He walked away from you to grab the Polaroid camera off his dresser, returning seconds later. One of his hands pushed aside a plump cheek to give him a better visual.

“I fucking love this,” he murmured. The camera flashed, then whirred as it ejected the photo, Javi setting both out of the way on the bed. He was back behind you, staring at what he’d just photographed. “Am I allowed to touch it?” he asked.

"It's your birthday—you get to do whatever the fuck you want to me; mi cuerpo es tu cuerpo (my body is your body)."

He looked you in the eyes.

"I love you so much. I don't know how I got so fucking lucky—you're perfect."

"You're perfect."

His thumb circled around the edges of the glass flower, making you moan when he experimented by pulling it out a little and pushing it back in, loving the stretch—he did it again and again, and, again, Javi leaning his head down to spit on your pussy, the fingers of his other hand spreading it through your slit to rub your clit.

There was no way to stop your gasping moans as the toy was fucking in and out of your tight hole at the same time his hand strummed your bundle of sensitive nerves like a virtuoso—the sensations had your eyes rolling back in your head, the muscles in your abdomen starting to tighten as he built you up, higher and higher.

You had to face forward, your arms giving out, and crossing in front of you to rest your head on them—this was going to end quickly with how fucking good it felt, and you weren’t surprised when your orgasm hit, pleasure washing over you with a loud cry of his name.

Your breaths were ragged, sweat beginning to form on your skin.

“My good girl,” Javi purred. Both of his hands suddenly stopped, and a palm smacked the side of your ass, the sharp sting making you gasp.

"I need to eat your pussy," his voice was deeper and huskier.

Your entire body flattened onto the bed, and you turned on your side to look at him. The words came out hoarse, "How do you want me?"

"We can do anything I want...?" he asked. "Is there, uh, anything you're not in the mood for?"

Your eyebrow lifted. "Aside from my regular things I'm not into, nope—I'm down for whatever you want. What do you have in mind?"

He smirked. "You sitting on my face?"

You smiled. "Of course, you'd wanna drown in my pussy on your birthday."

"Yeah, and, uh—" He scratched at the back of his neck. "—would you wanna suck me off while I did it...?"

With how much you guys fucked, you were pretty sure Javi had put you in every position imaginable, but this request was new. Sitting on his face was something you’d done many times, but adding in having you blow him at the same time had your cunt clenching hard around nothing.

"Um, yes," you answered, nodding your head. "That is definitely something I want to do. Get your cute little ass on this bed and get comfy." You patted the bedding beside you. "I wanna take that perfect mustache for a ride."

Javi chuckled as he got onto the mattress and moved up it to flop over on his back, resting his head on a pillow he fluffed to get cozy. His hard dick was lying against his belly, the tip glossy with precum and dripping into the happy trail of hair on his stomach.

It took him a second to get settled before he tapped his chest, his eyes heavy-lidded and crookedly smiling.

“Get up here, baby—this mustache isn’t gonna ride itself.”

You snorted and started to crawl his way.

"Dork," you said.

"One you love."

"That I do.”

When you got to his side, you swung yourself around to face his feet, getting your leg over his torso to straddle him. Javi gripped your thighs and pulled you back to have your wet pussy hovering over his face, two of his fingers spreading open the lips of your sex.

"So fucking pretty," he murmured. He inhaled deeply. "You smell so good, too."

His cock was in front of you, and you held yourself up with one arm to wrap the fingers of your other hand around his length.

"In case I haven't said it lately," you started, languidly stroking him, "you literally have the prettiest dick I've ever seen.”

It was true.

He did have the prettiest dick you've ever laid your eyes on—at full mast, he was just shy of eight inches, cut, not too thin, but not too girthy, either; it was just the right size that when he was inside you, there was a nice stretch and perfect fullness. On the underside of his shaft, two throbbing veins were crawling up the sides and another along the top you liked to trace with your tongue; licking around the velvety soft ridge at the tip and over his frenulum was a surefire way to drive him crazy and get him to make absolutely delicious noises, and when he was coming, you could feel him get bigger and jerk in your mouth, hand, or cunt. If you were looking, you could see his balls draw up and his cock pulse as he unloaded spurts and spurts of his come.

It was truly a work of art.

“And being in a medical profession,” you continued, “I’ve seen a lot of dicks—95% I wish I hadn't seen."

He snorted. "Thank you—you have the prettiest pussy I've ever seen, and I've seen a lot of pussy."

"The prettiest pussy?" You didn't mean to sound so surprised. "Really?"

"Oh yeah, the prettiest and the fucking tastiest."

It was evident Javi was done with the conversation by how he tugged your hips down onto his face and began feasting—which was an apt descriptor for how he eagerly dove in and the groans he made that sounded like he was eating the best meal of his entire life.

He licked through your wetness and over the lips of your cunt to get every last drop of your arousal he could find on his tongue; it felt so amazing you forgot for a minute you were supposed to be sucking him off. Gripping him at the base, you took him into your mouth, your head bobbing as you sucked down more and more of him until he was hitting the back of your throat.

His lips wrapped around your perky little clit, and when he sucked, it was like having lightning shock through you from the pleasure, your loud moan muffled by his cock in your mouth—it was hard to concentrate, and you put what little attention you had on the tip of him, licking along the sensitive ridge, pumping the rest of his spit-slick shaft with your palm that twitched, and loving how it made Javi whine.

He tasted salty from the steady leak of precum and clean, the scent of his skin smelling like the body wash he used in the shower. The lingering note coming through was Eucalyptus—woodsy, fresh, minty.

It was embarrassing that you were struggling to give him a basic blow job, doing your best not to get overwhelmed by his determined mouth trying to take you apart piece by piece as he licked, sucked, and tongue fucked you with abandon.

Fire was burning in your tummy and getting hotter with every second that passed. His dick was sliding along your palate to kiss the back of your throat, and you almost choked when he pulled and pushed on the toy in your ass.

It was skating the line of too much, how the plug was moving a little out to stretch your hole and being shoved back in to fill you again—thinking was hard, and you had to come off of him, unable to keep from moaning or stop your limbs from trembling.

“Oh, god,” you whined. “Oh, fuck.”

With how intense it felt, there was no way you could focus on sucking him off. What you could do was continue stroking his length, your hand gliding easily up and down while you were rocketing toward your end from him fucking you with the toy and sucking your clit. Your hips were moving of their own accord, rocking back to help fuck yourself and grind against his mouth.

Sixty-nining sounded fun in theory. The problem you ran into was your fiancé was relentless in wanting to make you come as hard as humanly possible, which made it practically impossible for you to do your part—it was too distracting. The pleasure had consumed all of your thoughts, and you could barely function.

The coil was winding inside you, getting tighter and tighter until it snapped, and euphoria was exploding from your center with a cry of his name, feeling your orgasm throughout your entire body from the tips of your fingers to your toes. Immediately, he shoved his tongue inside your fluttering hole to lick up your release, refusing to let a single drop of your come go to waste, and you could feel and hear his moans as you experienced the aftershocks of your climax.

With how hard you came, your hand paused on him, your upper body dropping, resting your head on his thigh to catch your breath and ride out your high.

Javi stopped behind you, lifting you from his face and inhaling deeply, taking big gasps of air.

"You okay?" his voice was rough.

"Mhmm," you hummed, speaking seeming too hard.

"You need a minute?"

"Mhmm."

"Let go of my dick."

You did as he asked and squeaked in surprise when he pushed you over to fall to the bed on your side.

"Sorry," he said. The mattress jostled, and pained grunts sounded from him, finding yourself seconds later getting wrapped up in his arms with your head on his chest.

“Did it feel good?” he asked and kissed your hair.

“Mhmm.”

“You come so quick with stuff in your ass.”

You smiled, finally finding your words. “You also come quick with stuff in your ass.”

“Yeah, I do—do you want me to fuck you while you’re wearing it?”

“Do you want to fuck me while I’m wearing it?”

“I wanna see how tight it makes you.”

“Uh-huh, and you wanna come in my pussy because you are on a mission to knock me up, and you would hate missing a chance.”

“That’s not all—it helps me last when I fuck your ass.”

“That’s true. It’s basically a medicinal cream pie. You know, earlier this year, they came out with a pill to help men keep it up, and we had a guy come into the ER who’d taken one—which, just so you’re aware,” you sidetracked, “if you have an erection lasting more than four hours, you need to seek medical help, and this dude was at almost six hours with a raging boner.”

He was frowning. “Did it go down on its own…?”

“Nope. A doctor had to use a syringe to remove some of the blood.”

"Jesus Christ, just thinking about that makes my dick hurt."

"Sorry." You rubbed your hand over his pec. "Let's talk about something else."

"Where'd you get the toy?"

A reasonable question, seeing as the closest sex shop was hours away in the big city.

"Okay, remember last month when you, me, Robyn, and Seb—" Sebastián, or Seb, was Robyn's boyfriend and Javi's cousin. "—spent that weekend in San Antonio, and you guys let us have our girls-only spa day while you and Seb went to see that movie about corrupt NSA agents that annoyed the fuck out of you because they got a lot of the government shit wrong, which you explained in excruciating detail to Seb at a bar afterward? Well, after the spa, she took me to a sex shop, and we bought some stuff."

"If you’re gonna make a movie about a government agency, you should do the fucking research,” he grumbled. His tone changed to intrigue, “What else did you buy…?"

"Some flavored lube and fluffy handcuffs. I was super picky about the kind of plug I wanted because you’d be surprised how many people come into the hospital with things stuck in their asses.” A memory made you snort. “Oh my god, so one time, this man came in with probably twenty or so of those bigger marbles? You know, the ones that are about double the size of a regular one? Lodged up his butt. When he was asked how they got stuck in there, he told everyone he was at home, standing on a step ladder, cleaning the cobwebs from the ceiling when he accidentally fell off and onto a container of them—this man stood by his story that instead of the marbles scattering everywhere when he fell on them, they magically made their way inside him.”

“What the fuck?” Javi said in disbelief. “He really thought people would believe he was cleaning without pants on, fell, and marbles just went up his ass? That makes zero fucking sense.”

“People come up with the stupidest lies when they’re embarrassed.”

“Like when you told the hotel staff we were checking out early because my nephew was viciously attacked by a duck?”

“You’re a jerk.” You pinched his nipple, making him flinch and laugh. “You’re just never going to let me live that down, huh?”

He grabbed your hand to kiss your palm. “No—you’re a terrible liar.”

“Rude.”

“I’m sorry, baby.” He kissed each of your fingers. “Did you buy anything else at the shop?”

“No, because I wanna go there with you to pick out things we’d enjoy."

He perked up, immediately responding, "We could go next weekend?"

"Shopping the weekend before Christmas? That would be a special kind of hell. Sorry, babe, we'll have to wait till next month." You got your hand free of him and patted his chest.

He let out a long, disappointed sigh. "Fine."

Things needed to get back to being horny, so you threw your leg over his waist and moved to sit on top of him with your knees bracketing his hips. His cock was wet from saliva and hard beneath you, and you leaned forward to kiss him, holding yourself up with your arms on either side of his head—this wasn't a peck on the lips or something chaste; this was a kiss that told him you wanted him. The kind of kiss that had his big hands grabbing onto your behind and groaning into your mouth. A kiss where things quickly heated up, and he was helping you grind your wet cunt over his dick, coating it in your slick. A kiss that turned into desperation for him to be inside you.

“Mmm, need lube,” you said into his lips. Sitting up, you leaned to get under the large, folded, black towel near the edge of the bed to grab the small bottle. You popped the cap, pouring a little bit into your palm before closing it and letting it fall onto the mattress beside you.

“With how huge your dick is,” you started as you lifted your hips up. “There’s no way in hell you’re gonna fit without some help.” Javi’s mouth fell open when you grabbed his cock under you, getting it nice and slick with the strokes of your hand.

His throat bobbed, swallowing. “Good call.” With how his eyes widened for a split second, you knew an idea had come to him. He grabbed your thighs. “Wait,” he said.

Your hand paused. “What’s up?”

“I wanna change positions.”

That had your eyebrows lifting in interest. “Oh?”

He was crookedly smiling. “Hands and knees, baby,” he replied, with a light slap to your hip.

“Oh, hell yeah.” You’d finished lubing him up and quickly moved onto the bed next to him, getting into the position he requested, your hands and slightly spread knees sinking into the mattress. Javi groaned when he flipped over and rose up onto his knees, the bedsprings complaining as he shuffled around to get behind you.

The smartest decision you made when you moved in together was upgrading to a king-sized bed—there was so much room for sexy activities.

Bending forward, he reached to grab the camera and set it in a place where it was easily accessible but not in the way.

He slid his dick through your drenched folds, notching himself at your entrance, his other hand holding your hip.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he said. “Okay?”

Looking over your shoulder, you met his eyes that were more black than brown. “Yes,” you answered.

He smiled. “Good girl—ready?”

“Yes, Papí.”

“Fuck,” he groaned, his eyes closing for a moment. He looked at you again. “Me vas a matar (You’re going to kill me).”

“If by kill, you mean la petite mort, then yeah, handsome, I’m gonna make you come so hard.” You winked. “Now, stick it in.” You pressed back the tiniest bit to have the tip of him starting to enter you.

“And you call me bossy when I’m horny,” he mumbled.

There wasn’t a chance to respond since moans sounded from the both of you as he slowly started sinking into you, taking his time to let your body adjust to being stuffed with each glorious inch of him until he was buried all the way to the root inside of you.

Full didn’t accurately describe how you felt with the plug in your ass pressing against his thick cock—you were beyond full. You honestly couldn’t believe he was able to fit; you couldn’t believe you were able to take him. It was so overwhelming, it had you whimpering, squeezing your eyes shut.

Javi’s voice came out strained, “Are you okay?”

There was no way you could hold yourself up on your arms with it requiring too much concentration, so you let your upper body fall to the bed, cradling your head with your limbs.

“Yes,” the word was said on a breath.

All of the nerves in your body were aflame, feeling like static was thrumming under your skin. You were okay—you just needed a minute to get used to having both of your holes filled at the same time.

“Okay, baby.” He rubbed a comforting hand along the line of your spine. “Tell me when you want me to move.”

He picked up the Polaroid camera.

“Definitely gonna jerk off to this,” he murmured, and you heard the camera snap the picture and the gears whir to spit it out—he’d taken a photo of himself inside of you while you wore the plug.

The camera and picture were set aside.

There was a question you couldn’t stop yourself from asking. “Am I tighter?”

He huffed out a breath. “Feels like you’re choking my dick with that toy in your ass—so, yeah, you’re tighter. You’ll probably cut off the circulation when I make you come, and you squeeze around me.”

Even though it was a struggle to think of anything other than the fullness, he made you worry. “Are you uncomfortable?” you asked. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable…”

“Mi amor.” He bent over your back to kiss the hair behind your ear, speaking softly, “I’m okay—I like how it feels. I’m really fucking worried I’m gonna come too fast.”

That made you feel better.

After an ample amount of time had passed for you to get used to everything, you said, “Move.”

He nipped at the shell of your ear, grunting as he straightened. He gripped your asscheeks and slowly dragged his cock halfway out of your sopping cunt before thrusting back in, stealing your breath. His pace started out languid to allow you to adapt to the feeling of him moving inside you, rough sounds rumbling from his chest, his fingers tightening on your flesh.

The plug made it easier for him to rub against all those spots that made fireworks dance behind your eyelids. Sweat glistened on your skin, the pleasure making you dizzy, and even though it had only just begun, you were already on the cusp of falling over the edge—intense was an understatement for how you felt. The heat was growing deep inside you, deeper than it usually did, the muscles in your tummy constricting.

His hips were slowly fucking into you, Javi grunting, and it was like nothing you had felt before—feeling so full and falling apart with every thrust.

“Oh, god, Javi,” you whined. “I’m gonna come. You’re gonna make me come.”

With how he spoke through clenched teeth, you knew he was fighting for his life not to finish so soon, “Come for me, baby.” He smacked your ass, the pleasurable sting making you clench and his rhythm stutter. “Shit,” he gasped. “You’re so fucking tight—it feels so good.”

It was wet and sticky where you were joined, Javi coaxing wave after wave of arousal from your pussy that soaked his cock and dripped down to coat his balls—his thrusts were loud, squelching sounding every time he pushed in. Moans were escaping your lips while deeper noises ripped from his chest.

Javier wasn’t a tiny guy—just his cock made you feel full, and now you had it pressing into your sensitive walls against a rigid toy that turned up the sense of fullness to a ten and felt so fucking incredible that when he sped up his strokes, you were done for; pleasure erupted from deep in your depths that had your mouth opening in a silent scream and every muscle in your body pulling taut, hearing the man behind you let out a strangled groan as he suddenly stopped moving.

No thoughts could form in your brain, your chest rising and falling hard, your pussy pulsing as you rode out the high. Your ears rang, and you were too out of it to make out what Javi was saying, him sounding like the adults in a Peanuts film; a muted trombone going, ”Wah wah wah.”

A body pressed against your back, feeling hot breaths on your ear.

“Cielito?” he whispered.

“Mhmm?” you hummed.

“You okay, mi amor?”

“Mhmm,” you answered and gave him a thumbs up.

“Do you want me to keep going?”

The words slurred from your mouth, “Yes, please. I want you to come.”

“Okay. If it gets to be too much, tell me.” He kissed your hair, a pained sound leaving him as he moved up on his knees again.

Each time you’d done anal in the past, he’d made you come so many times you ended up passing out afterward. This time, though, the orgasms had been much stronger, and it was already hard to keep your eyes open—there was a chance if you had another, it was going to put you to sleep, and you knew Javi wouldn’t care, but you felt bad about possibly needing a little nap before he had a chance to fuck your ass.

“Javi?” you said.

“Yes, baby?” His palms slid along your sides from your waist to just below your ribs.

“I’m sorry if I fall asleep…”

He sounded confused. “Why are you apologizing for that…?”

“Because I know you’re super excited my ass is up for grabs tonight, and I feel bad I might have to make you wait while I take a little snooze.”

“Cielito, mi amor, it’s okay. Don’t be sorry, baby. I’m gonna tell you something that might surprise you.”

“What’s that?”

“Getting to fuck your pussy like this is better than fucking your ass.”

That surprised you so much that your eyes popped open, and you almost couldn’t believe him, except you knew he wasn’t lying since he was always truthful with you. Your knees were still under you with your butt up in the air, and Javi nestled all of the way inside you, your chest pressed to the mattress. You twisted your upper body to look back at him.

His forehead was shiny with sweat, his hair sticking wetly to it, a beautiful flush rising from his chest up to his cheeks, his darkened eyes meeting yours.

“Are you serious?” you asked.

His eyebrow arched. “Yeah? Why would I lie? Think about it—the plug makes your pussy so fucking tight, and I get to come in it.” He put it into plainer terms, “You’re tighter than hell, and I could knock you up.”

“Oh, you’re having the best time.”

He smiled. “I’m having the best fucking time.”

“You like the plug?”

“I love the plug. Do you like it?”

“Yeah, makes me come harder.”

“Then stop feeling bad.” He slapped your ass, and it made you tense, his mouth going slack and eyes closing at you clenching around his dick. “Jesus Christ,” he breathed, his throat worked as he swallowed hard. “It’s okay if you pass out,” he said. “I might pass out, too.”

He pulled himself almost all of the way out of your cunt, and pushed back in, the fullness making your head spin and pleasure simmer in your belly. He was definitely going to get you off again, and you no longer worried about what would happen when you did.

He was going to come, and it'd only been—he looked over at the red numbers of the alarm clock on the bedside table—eight fucking minutes since he first put his dick inside her, or more accurately, worked his dick inside her.

Javier knew it was going to be a tight fit, but what he hadn't expected was it feeling like when he pressed into her ass: the ring of muscle squeezing him hard as he fed himself into her. With the addition of the plug, there was the same tightness, yet it wasn't only at the opening; it extended further into her, massaging his cock with her hot, tight, velvety walls. He was balancing on a razor's edge to not blow his load, and her coming didn't help with how it made her pussy strangle his dick to the point it was toeing the line of being painful.

He was in heaven.

And when he made her come again, he knew she was going to take him with her.

He was rock hard, his heart thudding rapidly in his chest, and skin coated in a thin layer of sweat—Javier was wound up so tight, a ball of tension had formed in his gut that was threatening to burst; she said the toy made her come harder, and it looked like it was going to be the same for him.

His fingers dug into the soft skin on her hips, sliding himself in and out of her wet heat and having to take a big, calming breath, slowly letting it out to get himself under control and focus on not finishing so quickly.

Shifting his gaze down, he could see his cock covered in her juices, glimmering under the lights of the room before sheathing it back inside of her, and the pretty, pink glass flower covering her asshole. He was so sensitive from being close to losing it, the pressure from the toy's solid body and the warmth of her were driving him crazy and making him throb.

He increased the speed of his movements, gritting his teeth, her sounds spurring him on. He wanted to make her come once more, but he didn't have much time with the pleasure welling up in him and growing with every passing second.

His hand gripped her asscheek, his strokes not waning as the fingers of his other hand got ahold of the plug's flared base, pulling on it to stretch her hole until only the tip remained, and slipping it back in, doing that over and over again, and out of sync to his own thrusts.

The way she loudly moaned his name and stretched her arms out in front of her to clutch the bedding with her cheek to the mattress had him twitching inside of her, electricity shocking through his body. Her pussy was pulsating around him, her arousal seeping down his shaft to catch on his sack, and he knew she was close.

"You gonna give me one more, Cielito?" he grunted, continuing to fuck her with his dick and the toy. "Does it feel good getting both of your holes fucked?"

"Yes," she gasped. "Oh my fucking god, it feels so good, Javi." Her hands clenched the sheets, her body shaking. "You’re fucking me so good—marry me; put a baby in me." His rhythm faltered for a second at the stab of pleasure in his belly, and he groaned.

The muscles in his groin started contracting, his orgasm imminent, and he tried to hold it off. His hips moved faster, beads of perspiration dripping down his face and the small of his back.

"I will," he panted. "I'll marry you; I'll fuck a baby into you. I'll do anything you ask me to." His eyes were cinched tight, and he was so lost in her that his thoughts were flowing freely from his mouth. "Dime cuándo, y te haré mi esposa (Tell me when, and I'll make you my wife). En cualquier momento, soy tuyo (Any time, I'm yours). Siempre seré tuyo (I'll always be yours). Puedes tener mi apellido (You can have my last name). Seguiré intentándolo hasta que estés embarazada con nuestro bebé (I'll keep trying until you're pregnant with our baby). Serás la madre de mis hijos (You will be the mother of my children). I can't fucking wait—come for me," he ordered. "Give me one more, and my come is yours. I'll pump you full of it. I'll put a baby in you. Come for me," he all but begged.

That was it.

She gasped his name, her body going stiff, and cunt spasming, wringing out his own orgasm—his hips went flush to her ass, burying himself as deep as possible in her depths, the tightly wound ball in his belly snapping hard enough, he fell forward, blanketing her back. The sounds he made were guttural as pleasure seared through his entire being, his cock pulsing and pumping so many spurts of his come he thought it might never end.

His brain went blissfully blank, his body completely lax, his soul possibly leaving him for some seconds since everything went dark, and he couldn't think of a single thought.

When he came to, he was bone tired and on the verge of falling asleep. Thankfully, he had the presence of mind to bring her with him as he moved to lie on his side, her limbs trembling, and he knew she was sleeping when there was no reaction to him removing the toy from inside her; it was tossed onto the bed near them, and then he tugged on the duvet behind him to pull it over their bodies and hugged her close with one arm, pressing his nose into her hair to breathe in her comforting scent, the ring on the hand he was holding causing him to pass out while happily thinking about how pretty soon she’d be his wife.

Time passed as they slumbered, minutes turning into hours. They shifted in their sleep and he woke when the warmth of her front pressed along the line of his spine disappeared, the springs in the mattress softly squeaking as she moved to get off it with a whispered, "Sorry." He heard her walk into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.

He threw the blanket off of him and got out of bed, not caring at all that he was naked as his bare feet took him to the kitchen, where he got two large cups of cold water.

When Cielito came back into the bedroom, she found him standing by the bed chugging one of the glasses, and she joined him to drink her own. He finished before her, setting his empty cup on the nearby bedside table and taking some steps to end up behind her, wrapping his arms around her lingerie-covered middle. His lips met the side of her neck, kissing up it to nibble on her ear.

She hummed in appreciation, resting her free hand on one of his arms. She swallowed her drink of water. "Did you have a good time, baby?" she asked.

He spoke softly in her ear, "Yes."

Her fingers slid along his arm.

"Good. Are you up for another round, or do you wanna shower, and we can cuddle on the couch and watch something?"

Truth be told, he was exhausted from how eventful the last four days had been, and he didn't think he had the energy to go again—he was drained, and his dick was starting to ache from using it so much in Miami.

"Shower and couch," he answered, kissing a spot behind her ear. Her hand came up to press her fingers into his hair, and it made him shiver.

"Sounds good. Let me finish my water, and then we can go get clean."

"Thank you for today." He was peppering kisses along her shoulder now.

"You're welcome, babe. I'm happy you enjoyed it."

"I loved it."

"I love you."

"I know. I love you, too—I love you so fucking much."

"Same."

Forty-five minutes later, they were clean and changed—Javier was wearing his grey sweatpants, and his future wife was in a faded, thinned, oversized purple t-shirt and her underwear. She was sitting on the kitchen counter beside him eating a grilled cheese while he made his own sandwich on the stove.

At dinner, he noticed she didn’t eat much, and when he quietly asked if she was feeling okay, she told him she was fine and just not very hungry, which turned out to be a dirty fucking lie with how her stomach loudly grumbled on their way to take a shower. So, the first thing he did after they were dressed was feed her; she tried to fight him that it was his birthday and she should be cooking for him, and he responded by telling her it was his birthday and he wanted to make her something to eat. She agreed to grilled cheese sandwiches, and he had to sit her ass on the counter and tell her not to move in order to keep her from trying to help him.

“This is the best grilled cheese I have ever had in my entire life,” she said around the food in her mouth.

He huffed out a breath, flipping the sandwich in the pan with a black plastic spatula. “You’re only saying that because you’re fucking starving,” he replied.

She swallowed. “Lies—it’s the world’s best. You could win awards for how good this is.” Half of her sandwich was already eaten, and she took another bite.

Javier set the plastic utensil onto the counter on his other side and stepped to have himself standing between her legs. He rubbed his palms up her bare thighs, kissing her forehead. “I’m glad you like the sandwich, Cielito,” he said, looking at her. “Do you want me to make you another?”

She was chewing and shook her head, swallowing. “No, thank you. One is enough.”

“I can cut up some fruit? We got enough today at the grocery store for me to make you a fruit salad?”

Her hand pressed to his cheek, her gaze turning soft, and he leaned into her palm. “I’m okay, Javi,” she said. “This one sandwich is enough.”

He frowned. “You told me you were fine at the restaurant and not very hungry, but that wasn’t true, mi amor. I know it was because of the sex tonight—”

“Birthday sex,” she interrupted. “Birthday sex is special and worth going a little hungry for.” “I disagree with that…” His sandwich was finished, and he moved back to the stove, sliding it directly from the pan and onto a waiting plate next to the spatula.

“What do you mean you disagree with that?” she asked.

He put the pan on one of the cold back burners and switched off the stove, returning to his spot in front of her. His eyes were on hers, smoothing his hands along her thighs and under her shirt to hold her hips. “I mean that we’re trying to have a baby, and I don’t like the idea of you not eating enough for yourself and our child just so we can fuck.”

“Oh.” Her attention went to her lap.

“In the future, eat as much as you need—do something light if you’re really worried.” He lifted her chin with his finger to look at him. “Can you promise me that, Cielito? Can you do that for me so I won’t worry?”

“Yes.” She nodded.

“Thank you.” He slotted his lips against hers, kissing her tenderly. When they separated, he asked, “Another sandwich or fruit?”

“Fruit, please,” she answered. “Can you do it with Tajín and chamoy like the fruit cart?”

She was talking about the fruit cart on the side of one of the busier streets downtown where you could get freshly cut fruits like mango, jícama, papaya, and watermelon, and they did vasos de frutas (fruit cups) similar to the street vendors in Mexico; cups filled with a variety of cubed fruits and topped with Tajín (a powder made of chile, lime, and salt), and chamoy (a thick sauce made out of pickled fruit like mango, plums, and apricot that was mixed with spicy chiles, and a salty brine—it’s a tasty mixture that was sweet, spicy, salty, and sour).

The combined ingredients created a refreshing snack that perfectly balanced the sweet, tangy, and spicy flavors.

He smiled. “Of course, mi amor.” He gave her a quick peck on the lips before making his way to the fridge to start getting out the fruits.

She hopped off the counter after she finished her sandwich to stand next to him, holding up his grilled cheese for him to take bites of while he chopped the fruit and chatting with him about random things on her mind.

They were sitting on the couch, her legs on his lap, and had just finished their vasos de frutas (fruit cups), which ended up being tazones de frutas (fruit bowls) while they watched the first Jurassic Park movie. His empty bowl was on the coffee table in front of them, his hands busy gliding over her legs and thighs. She leaned forward to set her dish down beside his as Dr. Malcolm discussed the moral implications of the island's scientists only caring about what they could and couldn't do and not if they should. Cielito moved to get up, and his face lifted toward hers.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

Her eyes met his. "First, I'm gonna go put the bowls in the sink." She bent to pick up one in each hand and straightened. "Then I need to go grab something."

"What do you need, and I'll get it?" He started to stand, wanting to help so they could get back to cuddling quicker.

"Nope,” she said, and he stopped. "I'll get it. You just sit there and keep looking pretty." She smiled.

He frowned. "Okay."

She left the room, and he couldn't pay attention to what was on the television, instead listening to her rinsing the bowls out in the kitchen sink, followed by her footsteps as she made her way back through the living room, his head turning to watch her on her journey into the bedroom where she disappeared from view.

He wondered what she needed—maybe she wanted to paint her nails and had to choose a color of nail polish. Or she was going to get the stuff for face masks, which was something he enjoyed; his skin hadn't looked this good since he was in his early twenties.

"I'll be out in a minute, babe," she called from the other room. "I need to check the message on the answering machine."

"Take your time," he replied, hoping she didn't.

The fingers of his right hand were tapping absentmindedly on his knee.

His gaze went up to the clock on the wall, seeing it was a little after eleven, his eyes following the big hand as it ticked away each second.

Tick, tick, tick.

A whole minute passed before she returned to him, his eyebrows pulling together at her frowning face.

"Who called?" he asked.

"My mother."

That explained it.

"What did she want?"

"She said she had some exciting news and needed to talk to me about something important."

"Any idea what either could be...?"

A long, drawn-out sigh left her. "Yeah, most likely it's to tell me my brother's wife is pregnant again—they've been trying for months."

She found out they started trying the night he first told her he loved her. His face relaxed, understanding now that she was upset by the possible news.

He rose from the sofa and went to her in three steps, wrapping her in his arms to hold her close. He kissed her cheek and whispered, "It'll be us telling people the same news soon—they just had a head start. Don't let it get you down, okay? Everything is okay. We're okay. We’re happy, and that’s all that fucking matters."

He felt her relax in his hold.

"You're right—they've had more time."

He pulled back to look at her, smiling softly.

"Yeah, and I'm pretty sure I can knock you up in the same amount of months. Hell, maybe I'll be so fucking good at it that I’ll get you pregnant with twins."

That made her giggle, and her mouth turned up in his favorite smile.

"You're ridiculous," she said. "It's not a competition."

"It is now—we're gonna beat their time."

She playfully rolled her eyes.

"I love you, you goober." She kissed him, and when she broke away, there was a serious look on her face. "Let's stick to one baby for my first pregnancy, please."

"That's not how it works..." he said slowly. "It's a gamble, Cielito."

"Yes, I know that Javier, but let's not put the idea out into the universe."

"Okay—un bebé (one baby). That's all I'll wish for or whatever the fuck."

"Even though I know you're being a lying liar who lies because you'd be beyond happy if there was more than one baby—“ That was true; he’d love getting two babies for the price of one. “—I appreciate the thought. Now, enough about me. You need to open your birthday present."

His face scrunched in confusion. "Didn't I do that when I took off your clothes…?"

"That was only the sexy birthday present. I also got you an actual present."

He was so worried about her that he hadn’t realized she was holding something. She held up a rectangular gift wrapped in solid, bright red wrapping paper.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” he said. “Today was perfect.”

“Sure, but as I told you when you were undressing me, you’re getting spoiled tonight. Please open this. I’m nervous about it.”

“Why are you nervous?” he asked, taking it from her.

“Because I put a lot of time into it, and I’m pretty sure you’re going to love it, but there’s a chance it’ll make you sad.”

That had him curious. He stepped away and grabbed her hand to lead her to the couch, pulling her down to sit beside him.

It wasn’t too heavy or light, and when he felt it, it was firm. He thought it might be a book. Tearing open the wrapping paper, he discovered it was actually a maroon-colored leather-bound photo album.

He glanced over at her.

“We have our photo album of us we put together. What’s this one?”

He asked the question even though he had an idea of what it could be.

She gave him a reassuring smile. “Open it, and you’ll see.”

He did as he was instructed, and his breath caught in his throat—the first picture was of him as a newborn being held by his mother in a hospital bed. His birth hadn’t been the easiest, and the exhaustion was clear on her face, yet she was grinning. The next photo was in the same spot, but this time, she was gazing at him in her arms with a look that showed she was in love and unbelievably happy. His eyes started watering, turning to the next page to find more pictures of newborn him and his mom now taken at home. All the pages after that featured the same thing: it was always just him and his mom. Some of the photos he’d seen in other albums his father had, there were many, though, that this was the first time he’d come across them.

He lost count of how many were of them in the kitchen, seeing them both age through the years and him doing more to help her as he grew.

There was one where he was maybe three, standing on a dining room chair with his mother beside him as he used a tortilladora (tortilla press) on the table to flatten tortillas, one perfectly done on the plate. His face was turned up toward her with a toothy grin, and she was gazing upon him fondly and clearly proud—it was the first time he had made a tortilla.

He was maybe six in another, using a stool in order to reach the stove with her watching from behind him as he stirred a giant pot he knew had the sauce for her tamales—it was the first time she walked him step by step on how to make them, and it reminded him of something she said that day: “Un día, tu esposa hará esta receta y necesitas poder ayudarla, así que presta atención, Javiercito (One day, your wife will make this recipe and you need to be able to help her, so pay attention, Javier).” And she was right. He had used what she taught him to help his wif-fiancée make her tamales. He even showed Cielito some of the techniques his mother used to make the process easier.

His father had captured a lot of wonderful moments, including one when he had to be about ten with how he’d shot up in height and was almost as tall as his mother—they had matching grins and were mid-dance in the kitchen, her left hand held in his right and their arms around each other’s backs.

So many memories came back to him of times they spent together, and there was even a picture of the last time they made a tres leches cake for his birthday, both laughing about something he couldn’t remember, and it made him smile at how happy they looked.

The final photo was of him in his senior year of college after a swim meet. He’d changed back into his clothes—some jeans and a baby blue button-up shirt, his hair still wet, and a gold medal around his neck. His mother was embracing him from the side, her head barely reaching his shoulders, Javier hugging her back; big smiles were on their faces, and happiness was shining in their matching chocolate-colored eyes as they looked at the camera.

Seeing all of the sweet moments they shared already had him on the verge of tears, and this one broke him, knowing it was his last competition before he met Lorraine—his shoulders shook with sobs as he let himself cry.

The album only contained the memories of before his life went to shit—when he was on track to make his dream of swimming in the Olympics come true, his mother was still alive, he hadn’t hurt his parents with his bad choices, and life was good and still made sense.

“Oh, Javi,” Cielito’s voice was soft, and he welcomed her arms that enveloped him. “I’m so sorry—I worried it’d upset you. I shouldn’t have made this. I’ll take the pictures back to Pop’s.” She reached for the album, and he held it away.

“No,” he said through the tears, his words coming out gravelly. “It’s perfect—I love it.” Closing the book, he set it on the coffee table in front of them before he twisted his body to pull her into his arms, burying his face in her neck. Her hands were rubbing soothingly over his back. “Thank you,” his muffled voice said, tears wetting her skin. “Thank you for making it—it brought back so much happy shit I’d forgotten.”

“You really love the album?” she asked.

He pulled back to look her in the eyes and nodded with a little smile. “Yeah, it really is perfect. You wanna know something?”

“What?”

“I can’t wait to show it to our kids one day.” Her face brightened. “I know you’ll probably cook with them, and they’ll love seeing photos of their abuela (grandma) and papá (dad) doing the same.”

“Oh, I’m absolutely cooking with our kids,” she said, and it had warmth spread through his veins. “Your dad let me go through the boxes, plural, of loose photos he has—side note, I have never seen so many, and I’m pretty sure he’s single-handedly keeping the one-hour photo kiosk in business.”

“Probably,” he chuckled.

Growing up, whenever his father wasn’t working out on the ranch, he was spending time with Javier and his mom, and it was pretty typical for Chucho to get out his camera or video camera to snap pictures or record whatever they were doing—his dad was a sentimental guy. With Javier being his only child, he wanted to ensure they documented as much as possible to look back on fondly.

“Anyways,” she continued. “I went through hundreds, maybe even thousands of photos, and in every single one of you with your mom in the kitchen, you both look so fucking happy, and then add in that some of your favorite memories are cooking with her, and I want that for our babies, too. I want them to have happy memories of learning to cook with their mom and dad.”

His vision was blurring with unshed tears, feeling so unbelievably happy he might combust.

“You want me there, too?”

“Um, yes, Javi. As your mother would say, ‘Eres mi buena suerte (You’re my good luck).’ You gotta be there to at least take a ton of pictures.”

He was smiling. “I’d love that.”

“Good.” She kissed him, just a press of her lips to his, and it wasn’t enough; he deepened it with a swipe of his tongue along her bottom lip, and when she granted him access by opening her mouth a little, he was delving inside to tangle their tongues.

He didn’t know how he got so lucky finding her—she was perfect. Somehow, she made him fall more in love with her with each passing day.

Hearing her say she wanted their children to experience the same happiness he did with his mother had him feeling over the moon and even more excited about them starting their family—she was going to be an incredible mom to their kids, and it filled him with joy knowing, without a doubt, they’ll get to grow up like him with parents who will not only love them more than anything but each other to the point their children will be disgusted by their open affection. Their kids were going to have happy childhoods where they knew they were loved and cherished and got nothing but encouragement for their dreams. It would be drastically different than how Cielito was raised, and that was what she wanted; she couldn’t fathom treating her children the same way her parents treated her. There wouldn’t be one kid who was loved more than another, and they definitely were going to be proud of their babies no matter what. She was breaking a cycle of neglect and impossible standards to ensure their children only knew love and acceptance.

Their breaths were coming out heavier when their mouths detached.

She smiled, the sentence coming out breathy, “Happy birthday, Javi.”

He shared her look. “Thank you for making it amazing—made me almost forget I’m old now.”

She huffed in exasperation. “You turned forty, Javi. You’re not old. If it makes you feel any better, I’m happy to report you’ve still got a bangin’ bod and continue being a sex god.”

“You’re calling me a sex god again?” His eyebrow rose.

“I never stopped calling you a sex god, and let’s look at the facts:” She held up one finger. “Stamina of someone in their twenties.” The next digit went up. “The experience of a forty-year-old that’s spent a lot of time fucking.” Another finger rose. “Makes his partner come every time.” The next digit extended. “Actually knows how to use his mouth and fingers.” The final finger went up. “Has the biggest and prettiest dick known to man—face it, babe, you’re a bonafide sex god; I wouldn’t be surprised if there was a statue of you in some sex temple somewhere.”

His chest had puffed out a little from her praise, and what she said made him snort, Javier, smiling. “What is it with you and statues of me?”

She pushed his bangs off of his forehead. “Um, did you not hear the part where I said you have a bangin’ bod and the biggest and prettiest dick known to man? You’d make a sexy statue—hotter than Prince Eric’s, and that’s saying something.” Both of her hands came up to hold his face as she stared him in the eyes. “What you should get from this is I find you exceptionally attractive and want to have your babies, and I’ll still find you exceptionally attractive and want to have your babies next year, and the year after that and the year after that; you get the picture. Basically, I do not give a single fuck about how old you are because you are aging like the finest wine, sweetcheeks, and I am so unbelievably horny for you.”

From the way she was looking at him, he knew she was telling the truth, and it made him feel some relief. He’d been dreading this day, and he was starting to realize there was no reason to—he was older and wiser, engaged to marry the most amazing woman on the planet, in the process of starting his family, working a job he didn’t hate, and he was back home, where he belonged (even if some of the townspeople thought otherwise). He was happy, truly happy, and yeah, it wasn’t an easy journey, and it took him a while to get to this point, but he made it, and that was all that fucking mattered.

Mondays were the worst.

Mondays after a lovely vacation were the worst of the worst.

Honestly, it should be illegal having to go back to work on a Monday after being away. Unfortunately, it wasn’t, so here you were sitting at the nurse's station desk, a bit past ten in the morning, notating a chart, and nervously waiting for your first break that was in—you glanced at the watch on your wrist—five minutes.

"Still nervous?" Came the Texas twang of your coworker/best friend, Robyn, who pulled out the rolly chair beside you and sat down.

Her long, chestnut curls were pulled back into a ponytail, and she looked ready to model with how perfectly she’d done her makeup; firetruck-red lipstick was coating her full lips, her big blue eyes accentuated with an outline of black mascara and eyeliner, her cheeks rosy, and face blemish free without being caked in foundation and concealer—she could be on the cover of the American Journal of Nursing magazine with her being in her blue scrubs.

Your head turned her way, frowning. "Yes, because I know, in my bones, it's not gonna go well."

She gave you a reassuring smile and put her hand on your arm. "And that's why you're doin’ it on your fifteen-minute break. It gives you a time limit, and havin’ to get back to work is a great excuse to end things."

You weren't convinced. "I guess..."

"I'm sorry, girl, but this is somethin’ you have to do and it'll be better to just rip off the bandaid."

"Maybe I'd prefer to keep the bandaid on and continue living in my perfect little bubble with the love of my life."

"Because the bubble is goin’ to burst one way or another, and at least this way, you're in control."

"I really don't want to do this…" you said truthfully. It had you feeling a little sick.

"I know, girl." She patted your forearm. "I can't promise it'll go well, but just remember you've got Javi and me for support, and you know as well as I do that man will up and leave work without a word to come here for you."

"That's true. He, uh, doesn't know..."

The other woman's eyebrows dipped. "Why didn't you tell him?"

"It's Javi—he'd worry too much and wouldn't be able to work. Now that we're doing this whole baby thing and getting married soon, it's like his caveman instincts have turned up to the max, and he's in protection mode 24/7. So, he's not going to find out about what's going on until after it happens."

"If you think that's best." Her eyes went to her wristwatch. "Looks like it's time." She met your gaze. "Go do it in the on-call room so you'll have some privacy."

You took a deep breath, ignoring the fluttering nerves in your belly. "Okay," you said as you pushed back in your chair to get up. "If I'm not back in fifteen minutes, you better come to get me."

She smiled. "That was the plan."

"You're the best."

The closest on-call room wasn't anything more than a small windowless room with a twin-size bed and a desk with a lamp and telephone atop it. The overhead light was on, and you'd locked the door upon entering, taking a seat at the desk. Picking up the phone's receiver, you pressed it to your ear, your other hand punching in the string of numbers from muscle memory, and hardly any thought.

Ring.

Ring.

"Hello?" the familiar voice answered.

This was it. "Hi, Mom, it's me."

"Oh, good, you got my message. I was expecting your call yesterday."

"Sorry, it was Javi's birthday, and we went out to dinner to celebrate."

Her voice went tight. "I see... Remind me again how old he turned?"

"Forty."

"Forty years old, and he doesn't own a house or have a career? When your father turned forty, he was already the chief of surgery and had invented a procedure, but I guess they're two different men from two different backgrounds."

Your jaw clenched. "I don't appreciate you belittling the man I love, who had a very successful career in the DEA and helped take down Pablo fucking Escobar and the Cali Cartel before he was forty—but please, go on about his ‘lack of career,’ and how he doesn’t measure up to Dad in your eyes; I’d be more than happy to end this call right now.”

The older woman sighed. “I’m just looking out for your best interests, but since it’s a sore subject, I won’t talk about him at all.”

The ‘best interests’ excuse made you roll your eyes so hard they were at risk of getting stuck in the back of your head.

"Fine—what's the exciting news you have?"

"Oh, yes," her tone shifted, hearing her excitement. "Your brother is having another baby, and it's a boy!" You fucking knew that was why she called, and you didn’t have it in you to be excited, not when the same news from you would have a vastly different reaction. "Your father and I are so excited to have another grandson," she continued. "I can't believe how blessed we are to have three grandchildren, a fourth on the way, and they’re all boys!"

"God forbid they had a girl," you mumbled.

"What was that?"

"I said, wow, that's great," you spoke normally. "Well, give them my congratulations, and if that was all you wanted to tell me, I'm going to get back to work—I'm on break."

Yes, you were chickening out on telling her about your engagement.

"That isn't the only exciting news!"

"Yay, there's more," you deadpanned.

“If your father was home, he could give you more information, but his hospital is going through some staffing changes, and he got you a job to be the director of nursing—you can finally move back home!"

Um, what?

He got you a job you never even asked for or wanted?

The audacity of them doing this behind your back in an attempt to lure you home had stunned you into silence, anger threading through your chest and tummy.

"Are you still there?" she asked.

"I don't want a new job," you said calmly.

"You don't know what you're saying, sweetie. This would make you the head of the nursing program at his hospital and is much better than whatever it is you’re currently doing. You’d make substantially more than what you are right now, and it brings you closer to us, your family—it’s about time you come home, anyway. You’ve been away long enough and haven’t been making the best decisions.”

Tears were burning in your eyes at the blatant disregard for your feelings.

"I'm not leaving Laredo."

She sighed again. "What does that backwater town have to offer you? That hospital you're working for can't compete with what your father’s hospital is willing to pay, and there isn’t anything there worth staying for or tying you down—thank god you've been smart and haven't done anything stupid like get pregnant."

She managed to insult Javi and the life you built without outright saying the words, and it pissed you off how fucking rude she was in regards to your future husband—she could say whatever she wanted about you and the way you were living, but you wouldn’t stand for such vitriol toward your fiancé.

"I'm getting married,” you blurted.

Her line went completely silent, and you thought she might’ve hung up until she said, “I’m sorry. I think I misheard you. What did you say?”

“Javi proposed—we’re getting married, and that isn’t the only exciting news; we’ve started trying for a baby.” Informing people that you were getting fucked raw and filled like a Boston cream donut on the regular made you wish the earth would completely swallow you up so you didn’t have to feel such embarrassment; it being socially acceptable to openly discuss your sex life when it had to do with procreation would never make any sense to you.

“I know Javier doesn’t meet your standards,” you continued, “however, he more than meets mine, and I wish you could see how incredible he is and how happy he makes me, but the only things you care about is the amount of money in his bank account and career choice; which, again, people all over are aware of who The Javier Peña is because of the work he did with the DEA. He was a hot commodity when he returned to the States, and agencies all over the country were trying to bag him.

“Just because he’s not in the same tax bracket as you,” you kept speaking, “and he can’t buy me a big mansion we don’t even need, doesn’t make him any less of a person. Honestly, he’s better than you—he’s better than you. He’s better than Dad, and he’s definitely better than that golden child you worship, who couldn’t even make it into his Ivy League school without you buying his way in. Javi got a full-ride scholarship to his dream university because of how talented he was at swimming,” you said proudly.

“My fiancé is an amazing man who treats me like a queen and will be the best father to our children. Now, let’s circle back to your question about what Laredo has to offer me—the answer is everything. Laredo has everything I could ever need or want. The man I’m marrying and the future father of my kids is here. I have a family here—a real family that loves me. I have friends and a great job here. This is the place where I’ll raise my children and grow old with my soulmate. This is my home and where I’ve always belonged. So, thank you, but no, thank you for such an amazing job offer I didn’t ask for. I’m not leaving Laredo—you’re just gonna have to get used to the fact that Javier and I are a package deal and that he’ll be your son-in-law one day and the father of your grandchildren. If you can’t stomach that, then don’t ever call me again because Javi means more to me than anyone else in the entire universe.”

Silence.

Many seconds passed before she spoke.

“You’re sure he’s the one…?” she asked slowly.

“Yes, one hundred percent.”

“You don’t care about how much money he has because he makes you… happy…?”

She made it sound like a foreign concept, and you huffed in amusement.

“I know, it’s crazy to fall in love with someone for them and not their money.”

“This is what I get for allowing you to watch those cartoon fairytale movies when you were a child. Your ideas of what’s important in life have been skewed by fictional nonsense, and you failed to notice at the end of those films, the girls become princesses—rich—when they meet their princes and finally get their—what was it?—happily… happily…” She was struggling.

“Their happily ever afters?” you said.

“Yes, that’s it! They only got their happily ever afters once they became princesses, and you should strive to want that kind of status or meet a man who will give it to you.”

“Weird take, but to me, they get their happily ever afters when they meet their one true loves, and the fancy titles are just bonuses.” You shrugged even though she couldn’t see you.

She let out a sigh. “You need to understand that real life isn’t like those whimsical cartoons. You might think you’re in love right now, but you haven’t even known this man for a year. How do you know if you will feel this way about him a year from now? Or two years? There’s no guarantee that your relationship will last, and you’re throwing away a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to advance your career and make a name for yourself because you’re infatuated and living in some dream world.”

“I am in love, and it’s the real thing. What you’re not understanding is my career is secondary to my happiness. I care more about being happy than making money, and I’ve made my choice that I’m going to marry Javi because he makes me happy—get it through your head that he isn’t going anywhere.”

“Very well, if that’s your decision, then so be it.”

“Thank you.”

“Can you answer a question about Javier?”

“Uh, depends on what you’re going to ask...”

“He helped take down Pablo Escobar and that other cartel, which wouldn’t have been small feats. I’m assuming a lot of opportunities would’ve opened up to him within his agency, and he was probably on track for promotions. Why did he quit when he was at the height of his career?”

You smiled. “Because he decided his career was secondary to his happiness, and he cared more about being happy than advancing in a job he’d grown to hate.”

“Oh.”

“You know, he only went to work for the Sheriff here, so I wasn’t the sole provider in our relationship—he makes decent money, too, and tries to pay more than his fair share. He took the job to be able to take care of me, and if I couldn’t work, we’d be more than okay on just his salary.”

“Really?” She didn’t attempt to hide her surprise.

“Yes—someone with Javi’s expertise is paid handsomely to consult. He’s gotten a ton of offers to do paid talks at universities and conferences. He’s actually kind of a big deal in that community.” It was lovely getting to brag about him.

“Why haven’t you told me this before?”

“Because from the moment you found out I was dating him, you were convinced he wasn’t good enough for me, and it seemed like nothing I could say would change your mind.”

“I guess I might have rushed to conclusions…”

“You did.”

“Well, congratulations, honey,” She sounded genuinely happy, not as jazzed as the imminent arrival of another grandson, but happy enough it had you taken aback. “This is exciting! I hadn’t realized things had gotten so serious between you two. Have you picked out a date for the wedding?”

To say you felt thrown off kilter from the complete one-eighty she just made on her views of your relationship would be putting it mildly; you thought there was a chance you were in the Twilight Zone with how bizarre this reaction was.

Did you actually convince her of Javi’s worthiness?

That didn’t seem right…

“Um, no?” you answered.

“I’ll call the wedding planner who helped plan your brother’s, and don’t worry about the cost, we’ll take care of it, along with the wedding itself—we’ll have to look at venues in your town that can hold at least, I think, one hundred and fifty guests, maybe? I’ll also have Jerry—” The family lawyer. “—get a prenup together—I’ll bring him with me.” Uh, what was happening? “Let me look at the calendar.” Pages flipping could be heard over the phone, and you knew she was going through her daily planner. “Your father and I have prior engagements over the next month and a half, but I could visit in February with the wedding planner and Jerry to get started on everything.”

The thought of her visiting had you feeling sick to your stomach, the anxiety hitting you like a bucket of cold water over your head.

“Woah, woah, hold on a second,” you said. “We’re not having a big wedding, so there’s no need for a wedding planner. We’re not doing a prenup, either, so Jerry doesn’t need to be bothered, and we want to get married sometime next month.”

“I won’t sour our conversation with legal talk, so I’ll discuss it with you later—you want to get married that soon?” There was a frown in her voice. "I told you we’re booked next month... We wouldn’t be able to make it…”

“We’re not doing much of a traditional wedding anyway, so you won’t miss much. We can send you a copy of the video—” Javi was planning on buying a camcorder to record your nuptials and other erotic things. “—and maybe in February we could visit you.” That was something you didn’t particularly want to do, but her change in attitude and desire to help seemed like she was extending an olive branch for all of the hurtful things she had said about your future husband.

“That would be fine. We’re dying to meet this man you’re in love with.”

Your eyes narrowed. “The one you didn’t approve of five minutes ago…?”

“You gave me a lot to think about in those five minutes, and I’m doing as you said and accepting that he’s going to be my son-in-law. Am I not allowed to change my opinion of someone?”

“Sure, you can change your opinion. You’re really okay with me marrying him?”

“Yes, sweetie.”

A knock sounded on the on-call room’s door, Robyn’s voice coming from the other side, “Hey, I need you out here.”

“I’m sorry, Mom, but my break’s over, and I need to get back. I’ll talk to you later.”

“No problem. Have a great day, and tell Javier hi from me.”

That will freak him out.

You said your goodbyes and hung up the phone, getting up to walk over and open the door.

Robyn was standing there. “How’d it go?” she asked.

“That’s the thing, Robyn, I think it went well, and I’m so fucking confused—I think my mom might even like Javi a little bit now.”

Shock appeared on her face. “Um, what…?”

“Makes zero sense, right?”

“Yeah… You need to call Javi?”

She was the best.

“Would you mind?”

“Nope! I’ll hold down the fort.”

“Thank you!”

This time, when you sat down to use the hospital-provided telephone, you dialed your fiancé’s desk phone from memory.

Ring.

“Peña,” he answered.

“Has hell frozen over?” you asked.

“Cielito?” He was clearly confused.

“Yes, it’s me—let’s focus. Has hell frozen over?”

“Uh, I don’t think so?”

“Are pigs flying?” You heard him roll back in his chair and the rustle of him looking through his office window’s blinds.

“I don’t see any pigs with wings, but that Sheriff’s deputy whose wife won’t let him have red meat so he can lower his cholesterol is in his car eating a burger with the same enthusiasm I have when I eat your pussy.”

“Guy is truly eating it like a man starved—respect. ¿Están volando las vacas (Are the cows flying)?”

“No veo a Daphne ni a Velma en el cielo (I don’t see Daphne or Velma in the sky).” He rolled back to his desk. “¿Qué pasa, mi amor (What’s going on, my love)?”

“I talked to my mom…”

“…are you okay?”

“Um, sure.”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

He was starting to hang up the phone, and you quickly said, “Javi, no, no! Don’t leave!”

“Are you sure?” he asked. “It wouldn’t be a problem.”

“It’s really okay—I’m gonna see you at lunch.”

The plan was to eat the lunches you made together in his truck.

“Okay.” His tone went serious. “Tell me what happened.”

“I called her like she asked, and she confirmed my sister-in-law is with child and talk about the excitement over a fetus having male genitals.”

“Of course, they’re fucking excited it’s a boy, the misogynistic assholes,” he seethed.

“I am so unbelievably in love with you—I know you’d love having a baby girl and getting to dress her up in pretty dresses.”

“God, yeah.” You didn’t have to see his face to know he was smiling. “And giving her cute hairdos and I could paint her nails to match her dresses—wait, we’re getting distracted. Did the news upset you? I really feel like I should come down there...”

“I promise I’m fine, babe.”

“I don’t like that I’m not there for you in person…” He sighed. “Was that all your mother wanted to talk to you about?”

“This next part is really gonna piss you off, so please take a big breath for me, my love.”

You heard him inhale deeply.

“Tell me,” he ordered.

“My parents, or father specifically, offered me a job that a person would be insane to turn down to get me to move back home—I didn’t even contemplate for a second about taking it and proceeded to inform her about us getting married and starting our family, then went off about how amazing you are and that this is my home and I wouldn’t be leaving it. I made it very clear that you are the most important person to me, and if they couldn’t accept you as my husband, then I wanted nothing to do with them.”

“…If you want the job, we can move there,” he said carefully.

You smiled. “That’s sweet of you to offer, but I can’t fathom moving away from our family here, especially your dad. This is our home, and I’m happy with the life we have. So, I don’t care about some fancy schmancy job.”

“Promise?”

“Pinky promise.”

He let out a relieved sigh before he started speaking again, his words soaked in anger, “They hate me so fucking much they tried to give you an offer you couldn’t refuse, so you’d leave me? Are you fucking kidding me? I’m sorry, baby, but I can’t fucking stand these people you share blood with—they don’t even fucking deserve to be called your family with how they disrespect you and don’t give a flying fuck about your happiness.” He had to take another big breath to try to calm his rage. “I might sound like an asshole, but I don’t want them around our kids, and this isn’t me putting my foot down or saying that’s how it has to be; I’m saying that our children’s well-being is my first priority, and these assholes are nothing but poison,” he spat. “I’ll support you if you decide to cut ties with them—hell, I’d love it since it makes me so fucking angry how they’ve treated you and continue to treat you. We’ve got our family here, anyway; Pop and all our tías, tíos, and primos, so you don’t even need those fuckers.” His tone shifted to something softer, hearing in it how much he cared for you. “Cielito, mi amor, all I want is for you to be happy and to feel loved, and I will do everything in my power to make that happen—please, for me, when you decide what to do, you choose what makes you happiest; not what would make me happy and definitely don’t even think about their feelings because they’ve never done the same for you. I’ll stand by you no matter what.”

What he said had your eyes getting misty. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. More than anything.”

And you knew that was the truth.

“I didn’t tell you the whole story,” you said, “and this is where I get confused about the entire interaction.”

“What happened…?”

“So, I kinda bragged about how much of a hot shot you are in the drug enforcement community and that you make decent money, and I think I somehow made my mom like you? I know it sounds fake, but Javi, she wanted to hire us a wedding planner and pay for the whole event that she was going to invite a hundred and fifty people to…”

You left out the lawyer bit because you were going to nip that in the bud when she got around to talking to you about it.

“Uh, what…?”

“It was fucking weird, babe! She even told me to tell you hi when we were getting off the phone!”

“Me? Are you sure…?”

“Yeah! It makes zero fucking sense. Our conversation started with her basically telling me my life decisions were trash and that there’s nothing in Laredo worth staying for—she actually said she was happy I hadn’t accidentally gotten pregnant. Like, that’s so fucking rude. Then her tone had completely changed by the end of the call, and she was pro-you and pro-us getting married.”

“Interesting…” You could picture him sitting at his desk, absentmindedly rubbing his thumb over his bottom lip while we pieced together the information you’d given him and analyzed it for any indication of more going on.

“Are your Detective Peña senses tingling?” you asked. “Do you think they’re up to something?”

“I’m not sure… But I could just be paranoid about people trying to fuck with our relationship.”

“Oh god, what if we are being paranoid and overthinking this entire thing? We might be looking a gift horse in the mouth, and my family really has warmed up to you.”

He scoffed, “Tal vez cuando las vacas vuelen (Maybe when cows fly),” he muttered. “It seems too good to be true,” he said. “But, there’s a chance hell did freeze over, and Daphne and Velma grew wings.” He sighed. “My hopes aren’t very high, though; at this point, all we can do is see what happens.” He suddenly sounded panicked, “Cariño, ¿los invitaste a nuestra boda (Honey, did you invite them to our wedding)? ¿Tendré que conocerlos en persona (Will I have to meet them in person)?”

Javier Peña had a cute face, a cute face that naturally looked pissed off when it was resting and showed everything he was feeling. There was no doubt that in the presence of your family, his glares would be murderous, and he wouldn’t be able to hide his anger—which, honestly, delighted you. But you hated the idea of them coming to the place you called home and was your haven away from them, so you were never going to invite them to visit; if you had to, you’d go to them.

“Cálmate, mi amor (Calm down, my love),” you said. “No te preocupes (Don’t worry). I didn’t invite them, and I don’t even want them coming here. I did have to say we might visit them in a couple of months to keep them happy—I’m also gonna send my parents that blender my mother wants but refuses to buy because the one they have still works for Christmas. Hopefully, all that will tide them over for a while so we can figure out if their new attitude is legit or not.”

“Good idea.”

“Well, I better get back to work. I’ll see you at lunch.”

“Yes, you will. If you need me to get your mind off all this shit, just let me know. It’d take us about the same amount of time to meet at home…”

His offer made you smile. “Javier, is this your way of saying you’d like a nooner?”

“Maybe… I’m on edge and need to calm my nerves, and the best ways to do that is either having a cigarette or fucking—I’m sure you can guess my preference, but it wouldn’t be a big deal if I bummed a smoke off someone.”

“You’re in need of a medicinal cream pie,” you said in understanding, nodding your head. “I am also on edge and could use a medicinal orgasm or two. I’ll see you at the apartment, handsome, and the suit stays on—I’m riding Detective Peña into the sunset.”

You could hear his smile when he spoke. “Is that so?”

“Yep—you’ve been staring at my tits a lot lately, and I thought you’d enjoy them bouncing in your face.”

His groan confirmed your suspicion. “Minimum of two orgasms, keep the suit on, and you’re riding me on the couch—anything I’m missing?”

“Yeah, you coming inside me so I can go back to work all nice and stuffed.”

“Marry me.”

“I am,” you giggled. “We need to figure out a date.”

“January 11. Under the big oak tree on Pop’s land at sunset—that’s when we should do it.”

“Why the eleventh?” you asked, curious about why that date specifically.

“You agreed to be my girlfriend on the eleventh. You agreed to be my fiancée on the eleventh. It only seems right that I vow to love you forever on the eleventh of the New Year and hope you agree to be my wife then—Cielito, mi amor, mi vida mi media naranja, mi todo, (Cielito, my love, my life, my soulmate, my everything), will you marry me in twenty-eight days on January 11?”

Tears brimmed your eyes. “Yes, Javi! Absolutely, yes—it’s perfect.”

“Not as perfect as you,” he smoothly replied.

“You’re a sap.”

“—and your perfect tits.”

“A horny sap,” you laughed.

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Ahhh! I loved this so much!!! 😍😍😍😍

The Laredo Javi gifs made me do this. I was powerless against them.

Main Masterlist

The Secret Place

Pairing: Javier Peña x best friend f!reader

Rating/Warnings: E - 18+ only! Post S3 Javi, Laredo, no age gap, friends to lovers to no contact to friends and lovers like no time ever passed, filthy fluffy smut, Chucho being the best and also a troublemaker, brief mentions of narcos and sex workers (Javi uses the word whores, paraphrasing the people who bother him about Colombia), drinking questionable whiskey, oral (f and a tiny bit of m receiving), boob in mouth action, PIV with a condom *and* on the pill good job guys, sex in an old treehouse probably not a great idea irl. Reader is described as having dark, prominent nipples and genitalia, grown out black pubic hair, heavy hanging breasts, thick dimpled thighs and a fleshy waist and belly. Her hair (on her head) is not described, nor is her skin tone (she does not blush or redden). Both Javi and reader speak Spanish, which is in italics.

———————————————————————————

“Javier Peña. Long time. Back for good?” You reached out for a friendly handshake.

“Nah, for evil.” He winked, holding your hand in his a little more firmly, a little bit longer than he would anybody else’s. You acknowledged it with a fond squeeze, undetectable to curious eyes.

“Sounds about right. Catching up with everybody?”

“Trying to avoid it.”

You laughed, hand on your hip. “No surprise there either. Well, I just came over to your table to ask the handsomest man at the wedding for a dance.” You smirked.

“I’m not sure that’s me, cariño,” Javi said, eyebrow quirked and jaw tensing skeptically.

“Never said it was, Javi. I was talking about Chucho.” It was your turn to wink.

He huffed out his nostrils and shook his head with a smile as you turned to his father with outstretched arms, yelling, “Take me for a spin, viejo! Let’s remind your boy where he got all those smooth moves.”

“He won’t know what hit him, mija,” Chucho laughed, standing to take your hands. “Watch my beer, Javier.”

“You got it, Pop.” He nodded at the older man, whose eyes were crinkled shut in laughter at the way you twirled onto the dance floor and beckoned to him. Javier nursed his own drink, dark eyes following you under heavy lids as you and Chucho spun around the floor.

After several songs, Chucho bowed out, making his way back to the table, and Javi lost track of you.

“You’ve still got it,” he murmured to his father around the lip of his beer bottle.

“Damn right!” he crowed. He took a long sip of his beer, looking out at the wedding reception, and sighed. “Listen, I know it’s been a long time, but—”

“—Pop, don’t.” Javier cut him off, shooting him a stern look.

Chucho raised his palm. “Let me finish, son. You know it was always her. I know it was always her. Hell, all of Laredo knows it was always her.” He stared intently at Javi’s face. “Folks weren’t as surprised as they acted when things went sideways with Lorraine. Doubt Lorraine was.”

“Yeah.” Javi looked at the table, ran his thumb along the label of the bottle, the condensation on the glass making the paper ball up and peel as he rubbed over it. “Everyone knew. I was an idiot, fucked it up.” He swallowed the dregs of his beer and stared through the empty brown glass, his own frowning distorted reflection wobbling back at him.

“You got that right,” Chucho chuckled, running a weathered hand along the brim of his white cowboy hat. “Was saying, mijo, it’s been years. Don’t you think you’ve punished yourself long enough?”

Javi scrubbed his hands down his face, careful not to muss his hair and ruin any of the photographs, incur the wrath of a coven of tías like he had at Danny’s wedding. “The shit I’ve done? A life sentence wouldn’t scratch the surface, Dad. Things change, life goes on. Looks like your dance partner left, anyway.”

“She sure did, pendejo!” Chucho laughed from deep in his belly. “Why the hell d’you think I’m talking to you about it now? Our girl fue al lugar secreto, she told me to tell you.”

Javi’s guts stuttered, and he tried to school his features into a convincingly stoic look. “The secret place, huh? Not sure I even remember where that was.” His eyes were pulled to the clock on the wall. 9:40.

“No manches, Javier. You know exactly where it is.” Javier avoided his gaze. Of course he knew exactly where it was.

Chucho turned to chat with a relative while Javi rolled his empty bottle on the tablecloth. Several songs played through, the party still boisterous. From across the dance floor, Javi locked eyes with Lorraine, who smiled brightly. She waved, and Javi groaned, feeling obligated to stand and cross to his ex would-have-been wife.

“Lorraine.”

“Javier. You look good.”

“Thanks. You too.”

“Oh gosh, you think so?” Lorraine tucked a lock of loose blonde hair behind her ear and flushed. “The kids make me feel so haggard sometimes. They sure keep me busy!”

Javier gave a half smile. “Sounds like it. I’m glad you, uh, got the life you wanted. I’m sorry, for… all of it.” He pursed his lips and glanced at the clock again. 9:57.

“Yeah, I know,” she nodded. “I forgave you a long time ago, Javi. Lord knows I wasn’t entirely innocent. And now I have Randy; I have the kids. It would’ve been wrong, the two of us.”

“Definitely,” Javi snorted, dimple deepening in his cheek. “Well, just… thought I’d say… something. You really do look good, Lorraine. I’m glad life’s treating you well.”

Lorraine smiled soft and a little bit sad. “Thank you. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

Javi gave her a tilt of his chin in farewell as a blur of a child crashed into Lorraine’s legs before striding back to his table.

“Taking a piss, Pop,” he muttered to Chucho, who was still deep in conversation with whichever cousin. He clapped a hand to his father’s shoulder.

“Sure you are, son,” he replied, patting his son’s hand without looking back at him. “Dile que I owe her another dance. See you in the morning. I’m cooking breakfast.”

Javier rolled his eyes and bit back a reply, just squeezed gently and made his way out of the reception hall into the night. 10:10.

———

“Took you long enough, Peña.”

“Mierda. How the hell did we used to do this every day?” Javi grunted, swinging precariously on the old knotted rope as he clambered into the treehouse.

“For starters, we weren’t fucking old,” you laughed, taking a drag of your cigarette. You offered it to Javi as he pulled the last of his body through the hole in the floor and flipped the hatch shut, sending the hanging lantern swinging.

“Nah. Tryin’ the gum thing.” He flopped onto the wooden floorboards and tried to find a comfortable way to angle his wide frame in the small space. Their lugar secreto.

“¡No mames!”

“En serio.”

You spit on the floor and stubbed the cigarette into it. “Well shit. Good for you, Jav. Must’ve taken a lot of willpower — I don’t imagine you have any less need for vices now.” You grinned at him.

“Yeah, no fucking kidding,” he sighed. His fingers tapped on the ground, antsy.

“You’ve always been a stubborn asshole, though, so if anyone could do it, it’d be you,” you said with a cackle.

“Vete a la chingada,” Javier grumbled warmly.

“Quite the mouth you’ve got on you, Javi,” you tutted, turning to sit with your back against the opposite treehouse wall and stretching your legs out parallel to his.

“You know better than most how true that is,” he said, eyebrow quirking suggestively.

“Sucio,” you chided. “Glad to see some things haven’t changed.”

Javi smirked, sat silent. He let his head tip back against the wall, looked up at the stars through the open hole in the roof of the old treehouse. The wood there had rotted through years before the two of you found the place, when your necks and shoulders had ached from sunburns and monkey bars instead of tension and grief. Back then, before Laredo was haunted, you’d climbed up here and patched each other’s hurts with bandaids, hugs, shitty liquor, and eventually, after some years, soft touches, kisses, hot skin sticky and desperate against hot skin.

“You’re not gonna ask me about Colombia?” he said eventually, leveling his eyes back at you.

You shrugged. “Do you want to talk about Colombia?” you asked.

“No.”

“I figured as much. No, I’m not going to ask you about Colombia.” The treehouse was silent again.

“I came home, few years ago. Went back.” Javi said, eventually.

You hummed thoughtfully. “Why?”

He cracked his knuckles. “Got in some shit. DEA told me to leave. Then they asked me to come back. So I did.”

“You done now?” you asked simply.

“Yeah.”

“Feel like a hero?”

Javi gritted his teeth. “Feel like a piece of shit, usually.” He clenched his hands into fists, released them, repeated the action without looking up from the toes of his boots alongside your knees.

“Well, hey, at least you don’t look it,” you offered, and Javi couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re much better looking than you were in the 70s, even if your clothes haven’t changed.”

“Fuck you,” he snorted. “You didn’t seem to have any complaints back then.”

You scrunched your nose at him and stuck your tongue out. “I didn’t know any better back then. You’re not the only one who expanded their horizons, Peña.”

The smile slid from his face and he bit at his lip, a sneer creeping into his expression. “You too with the brothel shit, huh? Christ. All anybody fucking wants to talk about, what narcos I shot and what whores I fucked.”

“Did I say any of that, Javi? Jesus. Don’t try to pick a fight with me, it won’t work. I’m glad you were fucking around down there. I’m sure it was hell. Sounds like burying your traumas in warm pussy helped bring you back alive. I’m grateful for that.” You looked at him plainly, like it was the most obvious reaction in the world for you to have, like his confusion at your response was the strange thing.

“Besides,” you added, “I’m sure you treated them well. I know better than most, right?” You waggled your eyebrows at him and his frustration and surprise melted away, dripped out of his mind.

“So, I was memorable?”

“Stop fishing for compliments.” You whacked one of his boots with the back of your hand, and he tipped it back toward you, pushing at the hem of your skirt with his toe.

“You were memorable,” he said quietly.

When you glanced at him, moonlight brightening the piloncillo brown of his eyes, his expression was softer, less closed off. Echoes of a younger Javier, your playmate and closest friend and confidant and co-conspirator and lover, here in your secret space like he’d never left, never grown out of Laredo, never been hardened by the cruelties of the world.

Your Javi.

“So you definitely remember what we used to get up to in here, then?” you teased, reaching for a lidded crate shoved into the corner and pulling out an ancient bottle of whiskey.

Javi’s mustache twisted up at the corner. “I remember you were a handsy drunk,” he said, grabbing the bottle and twisting off the lid, taking a slow pull from the mouth of it and wincing. “God, this is awful.”

You laughed and took the bottle back from him, taking a sip of your own. “Beggars couldn’t be choosers! We didn’t have many options for sneaking liquor.” The whiskey warmth flowed through your body like bitter sunshine. “And handsy, hm? I don’t think I was usually the one to start anything.”

Javi pawed at the bottle, downing another gulp, and you watched his Adam’s apple slide down his taut, tanned throat. “Hm, maybe not,” he mused, rocking his jaw to the side and letting his eyes rake down your body. “But I always made sure you finished,” he grunted.

You grabbed the whiskey for a final slug and capped it, sliding it back against the wall before pressing yourself up to your knees. “Is that a habit you’re still holding onto, Peña?”

You leaned forward and placed your palms flat on the ground, crawling, partly seductively and partly pragmatically because you couldn’t stand upright in the treehouse, along the length of Javi’s legs. You knelt immediately next to him and reached out to smooth the red and blue plaid collar of his flannel, then cupped a hand to his cheek.

Instinctively, Javi turned into your touch, letting his eyes close for a second and giving a gentle kiss to the meat of your thumb. He looked back to you and let his face rest in the cradle of your palm.

“Still holding onto it. Held on to everything that had anything to do with you.” He worried at his plump lower lip with his teeth, then tongued at the plush cleft there.

You swung one leg over his lap and sat in a straddle across the tops of his thighs, denim of his jeans scratching against the bared skin under your dress.

“Should’ve held on to me, Jav.”

Javi placed his hands at the flare of your hips, splaying his wide thick fingers to knead at the flesh there, more plentiful and pliant than the last time he’d touched there. Where the world had made him rough, shattered, sharp, you’d been tumbled like sea glass. Smoother, softer, light shining right through you, spilling onto him.

“I should’ve.”

“I could’ve held tighter too.”

“I wouldn’t have let you.”

“You’re right.”

“That’s a first.”

You both snickered, and you let your body rest against Javi’s chest. He threaded his arms around your waist and pulled you tight to him, pressing the bridge of his nose into the shelf of your collarbone to inhale deeply.

“It was always you. You know that, right?” he breathed against your skin.

“I do. I knew then, I know now. Things happened how they happened. It’s been a long time.” You spoke the words into the dark waves of his hair, tickling at your mouth and chin.

Javi’s voice was smaller than it had been, more hesitant. “Do you think…” He paused for a beat. “Do you think it’s been too long? Or, not long enough?”

“I don’t know. Me vale, Javier. I don’t give a shit. ¿Sabes?” You ran a finger in a small circle around the top button of his shirt.

“I don’t know if I do,” he answered honestly. His grip on your hips tightened slightly, and he scooted you just an inch or two further up to the apex of his thighs.

“I think it’s a series of miracles that you’re here and I’m here and we can still manage to squeeze our ancient asses into this treehouse,” you said frankly. “I don’t need to figure anything else out right now. Tonight? It’s enough for me to know we’re both still here, that this is still here.” And when you said this, Javi knew you didn’t mean the treehouse, but the real lugar secreto, the secret place that lived inside you both, where neither of you had ever let go of the other.

“Lie back against the wall, cariño,” Javi ordered in a soft, even husk.

You climbed off his lap and crawled back to the place you’d been sitting before, legs out in front of you.

“Knees up,” he rasped. You obeyed, skirt of your dress slipping down your raised thighs to pool at your waist. “Let them fall open nice and easy for me, baby. Just like that,” he murmured, coming up onto all fours and rubbing a thumb on your ankle bone as you let your knees drop outward.

Javi failed to bite back the moan that fell from his mouth as you spread before him, only a slip of your black thong visible as the thin wet gusset nestled into your sex, dark lips and an Eden of black curls devouring the fabric. He, too, wished to be devoured.

He reached his hands up under your ass, hooking his fingers into the floss of your underwear and peeling them from your center, wiggling them down your legs and tossing them aside. Javi carefully lowered himself to his belly, flat across the floor, his body longer than he used to be so his knees were bent and his feet rested against the opposite wall. He looked up with wide, curious eyes, asking silently for permission.

“It was always you, Jav. Still is.” You carded your fingers through his thick hair and he growled.

Javi slid his hands along your thick thighs, trying to memorize the feel of every new dimple and stretch mark on the once-familiar canvas. When he reached the end of your legs, that divine join, he used the breadth of his shoulders to press your knees even further apart, sliding his forearms under your legs to grip around your hips.

Your folds pulled open languidly as your legs spread, stretching glossy strings across your entrance, the long dark sticky swollen petals of you blooming like something rare and tropical, heady and intoxicating. Javi nudged forward, nose brushing through the course hairs as he nuzzled its strong curve against you, dragging it in a lazy back and forth over your clit. Your pussy fluttered and you drew in a sharp breath through your nose.

“Looks like she remembers me too,” Javi chuckled darkly.

He pressed sloppy open-mouthed kisses to the creases of your thighs, over your puffy mound, running up and down along the seam of you, puffing hot wet air over your asshole to see it clench and quiver.

“She wants you to stop teasing,” you whined, but your complaint was cut short with a gasp when you felt a broad lick along your slit, Javi sliding the flat of his tongue through you and flicking at your clit with its pointed tip.

Your legs fought to fold closed on Javi’s head, but his arms kept them pinned open, on display for him, bisected and dripping. He ran his tongue over and around every fold, prodding and sucking and nibbling, stretching you gently with his teeth and slotting his lips with yours in an intimate, hungry kiss.

His tongue moved through you instinctually, patiently, reverently. A disciple, attending to the temple of his deity. Javier Peña did not believe in God. He believed in worship.

Javi slid one thick finger, then another, through your shining slick, swirled them at your clit before pressing them inside of you up to the knuckles. He relished the groan that clawed out of your throat, the clench of you around his digits, as he pumped them in and out, fingertips dancing on the spongy spot that made you writhe for him. He watched your face, lips parted and panting, brow glistening, both exactly as he’d remembered you and more perfect and beautiful than you’d ever been before this moment. And you’d always been perfect and beautiful.

He dropped his face again to suck the bead of your clit between his soft lips, alternating slurping around the hood with laves of his tongue as he continued to thrust and curl his hand inside you. The obscene thick wet sounds of your pleasure wove with mingled moans and soft gasps. Javi felt, sensed, the small escalations in your as they built on each other — the flickering tense of your leg muscles, the tightening of your stomach, your affrettando breathing. He increased his efforts, dribbling a stream of spit onto you, into you as he stuffed his fingers into your pulsing cunt over and over again.

“Oh, oh, Javi. Fuck, Javi. I’m…” Your legs began to shake, some overwhelming and impossible pressure building deep inside you. Javi didn’t slow, just lavished prayers into your pussy and ground his hips against the old creaking floorboards.

“I know, baby, I know,” he chanted over you, “I’m here, baby, it’s me, I’ve got you.”

Your fingers were thrust into his hair and twisted around the soft dark strands, and you tugged, pulling a guttural roar from Javier’s chest. “Dámelo, mi vida,” he snarled. You felt the irresistible urge to bear down on Javi’s hand, walls seizing up around his fingers until that delicious pressure burst. You arched and shrieked as a dizzying pulsing gush erupted from your cunt, cascading over the man between your thighs as he groaned, swallowed and suckled desperately as he rutted into the floor. The sensation continued to crash over you, waves smashing against a cliff without end. Your vision was flashing, teeth chattering violently as you keened and bucked at the overstimulation. Javi withdrew his fingers from your channel and slid them around your clit, using your release to slip rapid circles around the swollen pearl until the world around you exploded, a razor sharp orgasm ripping through you on top of a final wave of warmth that poured out from your wrenched body.

Javier looked up through long lashes, his pupils blown and lips swollen and red. He was dripping with you, drenched and devoted, as though he’d been dunked in a baptismal font.

You gestured faintly at him, not able to move your hands beyond a small wave up your body. Javi got the message, clambered up over you and let you throw your sagging arms around his neck so he could roll with you onto his back and drape you over him. You melted against his chest, still panting, and he ran his hand over your shoulders, down your spine, over the curve of your ass. His cock throbbed against the zipper of his jeans, straining painfully in the tight denim, but he tried his best to ignore it. To just hold on to you.

“I think I owe your informants a thank you card,” you wheezed finally, breath slowing closer to its normal pace. Javi snorted into your crown, kissed your forehead at your hairline.

“Quite the mouth, huh?” he teased softly, and you pinched at his waist through his shirt with a chuckle. “Mierda. That was…” Javi trailed off, running a hand through his sweat-curled hair.

“Yeah. It was,” you agreed, neither of you needing to finish the sentence. You reached up to touch his face, the deep furrows that creased his skin there smoother and shallower now. “So. Mi vida, huh Peña?” You smirked up at him.

Javi’s cheeks pinked and he bit at the inside of his mouth, bashful as if he hadn’t bathed in you minutes before. “Too much?”

“Nah, I liked it. Did you mean it?”

Javi paused before answering, looking down at you almost meekly. “If I did?”

You smiled against him. “Then I like it even more. Kind of how it’s always been here, right? How it’s always been for us.”

He smiled back with relief. “Yeah,” he huffed out. “Yeah, it has been. Could still be, maybe? It feels like… like we… fuck. It feels like this is the first time in a long time I’m where I belong. Here, with you.”

“Between my legs?” you said with a laugh playing at your eyes.

“Sí, yes, Christ, forever.” Javi groaned again, licked the taste of you from around his lips, nostrils flaring when his dick twitched insistently. You clocked it.

“Enjoyed yourself, guapo? Need some attention?” You rolled your hips slightly, pleased when Javi sucked in a breath through his teeth and shivered.

“Are you… can you…” he stuttered out, and you shushed him with a finger to his lips, which he kissed.

“Can I stand? No,” you chuckled, shaking your head. “But I want to stay right here in your lap and let you fuck me, Jav. Te quiero.”

Javi sat bolt upright, holding on to your body as he scooted to the wall and leaned back against it. “We’re gonna be so fucking sore tomorrow. Fucking in the treehouse.”

“We don’t have to,” you offered breezily, teasing. “If it’s too much for you in your old age.”

“Don’t you dare. Pinche chiflada. Yes, we fucking do,” Javi objected immediately. “Besides,” he jabbed with a pointed finger, “we’re the same age.”

You laughed at his urgency. “Ahí está. ‘Atta boy, Peña. You’re overdressed, in that case.” You moved to unbutton his flannel, revealing more of his smooth, freckled chest. “This is a nice shirt, by the way. You looked handsome as hell tonight.” You undid the last button and slid his shirt off his shoulders, running your hands over the firm rounds of his muscles.

“Not the handsomest, though?” he smiled, leaning forward to nip at your collarbone.

“Nope, sorry. That’s always gonna be your pops,” you said with a shrug.

“Pendeja,” Javi muttered. “Can we stop talking about my dad right now, please?” He fumbled at your dress clumsily. “This needs to go.” You guided his hands to the buttons that ran down the back and chuckled against his ear as his fingers flew over the closures and he yanked the thin cotton up over your head and discarding it to the side.

“Fuck, querida. These tits…” Javier lunged toward your chest, starved, pulling one brown nipple into his mouth and moaning around it while he palmed the weight of your other breast in his hand, lifting and squeezing. You tipped your head back as he swirled his hot tongue around and over, coaxing you to a peak, then pulled off with a slurping pop. “Gorgeous. Even better than I remember,” he groaned, wiping spit from the corner of his mouth with his thumb.

You wriggled your naked body back on Javi’s legs, eliciting a whine of protest before he realized your hands were deftly unfastening his belt. He reached down to assist and you swatted him away with a laugh. “Let me have my fun, huh?” you chided, slipping your finger through a belt loop and giving his jeans a firm tug before undoing the button at his waist. You smirked at the thatch of hair peeking out from the fly. “No chones? Hussy!”

Javi’s dimple deepened, his lip curling. “Always prepared, baby.”

You shook your head. “You’re still a menace, Peña. Pero, speaking of prepared, I’m on the pill, but…”

Javier cut you off. “Tranquila. Wallet.” You reached into his bulging front pocket and slid out the weathered leather, opening it and fishing through until you felt the telltale foil square.

“Thank god. I’m sure we have some stashed up here still but I don’t know I’d trust them to hold up,” you huffed with a smile, and sat back on your heels in front of him. With practiced ease, you tore open the packet, wiggling it at the man in front of you. “Now you can take your pants off.”

Javi didn’t break his gaze, just lifted his hips and slid his tight jeans down his thighs. You pulled his boots off for him, one at a time, then yanked his pants the rest of the way down his calves and over his feet, socks coming with them. You hurled them into the corner and let your eyes rest on Javier’s nude form. He brought one fist to his base and gave himself a few slow tugs, watching you watching him.

You crawled your way up over his body and relished the way his thick cock bobbed in anticipation, the way Javi’s stomach muscles quivered under your hungry stare. Glancing down at the blushing tip of him, you couldn’t resist when you saw the gleam of precome beading at his slit, and you dipped down to taste him, his distinct salt and musk making you dizzy with want. Javi’s hips bucked wildly at the unexpected touch of your tongue. You flicked your tongue over his frenulum, licked down his shaft to the seam of his balls, and back up along a delicious pulsing vein before taking his fat head into your mouth, giving a firm, but brief, suck.

Javi gasped, biting back a moan and sucking air in through his nose with a shiver. “Can’t… do… that…” he managed, his voice graveled and tight. He grabbed your chin between his thumb and forefinger to and pulled your head up level with his. “Need you too bad. Need to be inside you, cariño. Now.”

You pulled the condom from the foil and pinched the tip, then unrolled it down Javier’s throbbing length til the ring was snug around his base. His eyes didn’t leave your hands until you finished, and you reached up to his shoulders and eased yourself to straddle across his strong thighs, his latex-covered cock wedged between your stomachs. He was breathing heavily, sweat starting to pool at the dip of his throat. He brought both hands to the sides of your face, hooking his thumbs under your jaw, and looked into you with his big dark glassy eyes. They reminded you of the night sky that shone through that hole in the roof, the way if you let your vision unfocus it felt like you could see the deep blacks and browns reveal themselves to be layers and layers and layers of stars. You felt like you could see on forever, see the whole universe.

Javi brought your forehead to his, his nose pressed next to yours, and gently rolled his hips into you, the slight friction reawakening your still-sensitive clit and releasing a fresh stream of slick. You lifted up and brought your hips forward, bringing one hand from his shoulder to grasp him firmly and slide him through your folds before angling him at your entrance. Faces still flush together, breathing each other's air, you let yourself sink down onto him, both exhaling soft whimpers of pleasure as you stretched around his girth until you were fully seated in his lap, your channel squeezing around him greedily.

“Oh, fuck,” you whined. “Oh Jav, oh fuck. I missed this. I missed you.” You let your face drop to his neck, dangled yourself from his broad shoulders, and ground your hips in slow circles against his belly. Javi dropped his hands from your face and grabbed onto your sides, guiding your movements and digging his fingers into your skin, like he needed to be sure you were really there, needed to mash into your flesh and bone to know you weren’t an apparition, not some whiskey-conjured ghost in his empty apartment in Bogotá.

He let his head fall back, giving you space to lick and kiss at his neck while you rode him lazily. “You feel so good, baby. Christ,” he rumbled, words crawling out from deep in his throat. You pressed your open mouth to his collarbone, dragging your warm wet lips over the slice of it, sighed deeply. Javi could feel your legs shaking as they bracketed his own, fatigued from your earlier pleasure, and he slowed you to a stop before lifting you from his cock.

“Acuéstate,” he whispered, grabbing his forgotten flannel with one hand and fluttering it over the floor before turning you in his arms, nudging you onto all fours facing away from him and encouraging your cheek and forearms to rest on the brushed cotton.

“Mm,” you hummed sweetly, closing your eyes and wiggling your hips invitingly. Javi had to squeeze himself tight at the root, tried not to lose his mind when you presented your glistening pussy, swollen and stretched and desperate for him. “Need you, Javi.”

He sat up on his knees and pushed into your fluttering hole with a single thrust, crushing into the ring of your cervix and forcing a sob from your throat.

“¿Estás bien?” he panted, quaking with restraint as he held himself flush to your ass, letting you catch your breath.

“Oh fuck, yes. Cojeme duro, Javi,” you rasped beneath him.

He wasted no time. Javi withdrew quickly and slammed back into you, a deep wail spilling from your open mouth. He set a breathless pace, one hand clenched around your hip and the other spread possessively over the base of your spine. The brutal snap of his hips would’ve driven you forward across the floor if he hadn’t been holding you in place with such bruising force. His heavy balls swung and slapped against your bare skin with every thrust, and you could feel his sweat puddling at the sway of your lower back as it ran from his face and chest. The air was thick with the lewd squelching sounds of your bodies smashing together and the chorus of your breathy, rattling prayers and curses and cries.

Javi’s hips began to stutter, and he tensed his thighs and ass to try to control his thrusts. “Not gonna last. Need you to come, querida. Give me another, come on my fucking cock. Please, baby,” he rambled, an edge of desperation tinting his words. He slid a hand between your legs, bringing the rough pad of his finger to your clit to press and swirl frantically as he pounded into you. He could feel when you clenched around him, so strong he could hardly stay upright. When Javi hunched over you and pressed a hot, panting kiss between your shoulder blades, you broke apart with a hoarse scream. A burning climax crashed through you, your body going rigid with electricity, the overwhelming squeeze of your cunt ripping a howl from Javi as he came so hard his vision went white. He spurted with staggering jolts, thrusting weakly until your body went limp in his hold.

As the last of his seed dribbled out, Javier lowered you both gently to the floor, curling around your body as he pinched at the bottom of the condom and slipped his spent, softening cock from your clutch. He tied it off, set it aside, and laid back down to wrap around you again. You wriggled back into him and he tucked his arm into the plush fold of your waist, hand splayed over your panza and fingers tickling softly, no sounds but the breeze of your breaths and the thrum of your heartbeats in your ears. Eventually, you rolled over to face him, wincing as you turned.

“Won’t even have to wait until tomorrow to be sore,” you griped, rubbing at your neck. Javi reached out and covered your hand with his, dwarfing it, and massaged the knot that had started to form there with a firm thumb. You melted under his touch. “No regrets though,” you added with a reassuring snicker.

“Good,” he smirked, brushing his knuckles over your cheek. “Probably should put some clothes on before I get a splinter in my dick, though.” You snorted and nodded, sitting up to let him extricate himself and re-dress. Javi pulled his jeans up, not bothering to button them, and shoved his arms back into his shirt, leaving it hanging open. You scooped up your dress and pulled it over your head, your underwear nowhere to be seen. Javi sat back down against the wall and stretched one long leg out in front of him, bending the other at the knee. “Come here,” he said, his words lazy and syrupy.

You walked on your knees to the vee of his legs and turned to sit between them, letting your back rest against Javi’s warm, wide chest. He hooked his chin over your shoulder and nuzzled at the base of your ear with the tip of his nose, looped his arms around your ribs and squeezed you tight to him.

“My dad said to tell you he owes you a dance,” he muttered, dragging his teeth lightly over your trapezius muscle, his mustache ticklish against your overstimulated body.

“Ha! I knew it,” you said with a clap.

“Knew what?” Javi sucked at the thin skin at the base of your throat, just enough to make a small bruise begin to blossom there.

“We had a bet about you.”

He stopped peppering your neck with affections to look at you curiously. “A bet? What kind of bet?”

You cackled. “When I told him to tell you to meet me here, Chucho said you’d come running after me right away. I said you’d try to play it cool, sulk for a while, then when you got too desperate you’d tell him you needed to take a leak and disappear. If he was right, I’d buy him a six-pack. If I was right, he had to take me dancing.”

“Shit,” Javier chuckled under his breath. “That’s… yeah, that’s pretty much exactly what I did,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“You’re predictable, cabrón, what can I say?”

“I did talk, a little bit.”

“To Lorraine?”

“Damn,” he laughed. “How’d you know?”

You grinned and turned your face to rub your cheek against his skin, closing your eyes. “Like I said, predictable. Did you brawl?”

Javi hummed thoughtfully. “I apologized. So did she. It was… fine. It’s okay between us, I think.”

“That’s good,” you murmured, not moving from where you were snuggled into him.

He took a few deep breaths, and you waited patiently for him to say whatever it was he needed to work up to. He pressed his face to your shoulder again and kissed it softly. “I owe you an apology, too,” he exhaled against your skin.

You turned to look at him, to cup his face in your hand. “You don’t, Jav. You don’t need to apologize to me.”

His mouth began to move in protest. “I should’ve—“

“Basta.” You pressed a finger to his lips to still them, shaking it at him admonishingly when he tried to nip at it. “No should’ves, none of that. Everything brought us back here, right?”

Javier ticked his jaw, licked at his lip thoughtfully, before conceding with a half nod. “Nuestro lugar secreto survives,” he said with a soft smile.

“It does,” you agreed, running your thumb soothingly along the lines of his face, over the two creases permanently etched between his eyebrows. “You were gone, but you were still here, you know?”

“I thought about you. All the time.” His voice was quiet, somber.

“I know,” you grinned.

Javi huffed and snorted. “Oh, you already knew that, huh? How so?” he teased, pinching at the underside of your arm.

You squirmed away from his fingers, giggling. “You’re too predictable, ¿recuerdas?”

He sighed dramatically, quickly gave up his game in favor of hugging you close again. “I think you just knew me too well. Still do.”

“I know because I thought about you all the time, too,” you admitted, sitting back against him and tilting your head to look out the roof and up at the night. Javier did the same. “Eres mi vida también,” you said towards the sky.

“I fucked up tonight, though,” he rasped against the shell of your ear.

You stilled, raising an eyebrow in question. “¿De qué manera?”

Javi pressed a palm to your cheek and turned your face to his once more. “I didn’t kiss you yet.” You threaded your hands through the curls at the nape of his neck and pulled him to you, your mouths melding as easily as your bodies had. The kiss wasn’t heated or frantic; there were no clashing teeth and wanton cries. It was slow, soft, familiar. Two parts of a whole, slid back together where they were meant to be.

“So…” Javi breathed into your mouth between slips of tongues. “Pop is cooking a big breakfast. Want to come by the ranch?” He drew back enough for his eyes to focus on your face.

“Mm, a famous Chucho breakfast sounds great. What time should I come over?”

Javi grinned devilishly. “Right now.”

You rolled your eyes, shoving at his chest before kissing him deeply once more. “I don’t know what I was expecting,” you snarked. You both stood, joints creaking, both hunching over to avoid smacking into what remained of the ceiling. Your eyes scanned the treehouse for your missing thong while Javier pulled on his socks and boots, then fastened his clothes and tucked his wallet back in his front pocket.

“Missing something?”

You turned to answer him, seeing your underwear hanging from the tip of his index finger. He spun them around and smirked. “I’ll trade you for one of those cigarettes.”

“Keep ‘em,” you said with a wink. “We quit. We’re gonna try the gum thing.”

Javier beamed at you, sliding your panties into his back pocket. “Don’t have to tell me twice. You ready?” He lifted up the hatch.

“Mhm. But take that condom with you - there’s a trash can by the fence.” When he’d grabbed it, you flicked off the lantern, plunging the treehouse into darkness, moonlight just catching on the rough fibers of the rope below.

“Let me go down first,” Javi said, lowering himself through the hole, his boots finding a sturdy knot a few feet down, descending a short way before hopping to the dirt.

You grinned down at him from the treehouse. “You want to help me down? Tan caballeroso.” You dropped a pair of sandals to the ground and started to clamber down the rope barefoot.

“Of course, mi vida,” Javi said warmly, looking up at you with a wide, crooked smile. You’d made your way down a few knots when he added, “I’m also appreciating the view.” You shook your head and let go of the rope, jumping into Javi’s waiting arms and falling into another languid kiss before your feet found solid ground. When you bent down to grab your sandals from the dust, your skirt suddenly flew up, a hand cracking sharply over the bare flesh of your ass cheek, and you squealed, flying upright and glaring back over your shoulder.

“Shameless,” you tsked.

“Claro,” Javi shrugged, unapologetic. “But you love me.”

“Yeah,” you mused, slipping your sandals on and closing the short distance between your bodies to ruffle his hair. “I sure do. Always have.”

Javi leaned into your hand and purred, content for the first time in a very, very long time. “As long as I’ve loved you,” he said, quiet and firm. He nosed a kiss to your cheek and laced his fingers through yours. “Ready to go, mi vida?”

“Been ready for a lifetime, Peña. Take me home.” You walked hand-in-hand down the winding dirt road that led to the ranch, your path together lit, as it always had been, by a sky full of stars.

—————————————————————————

Some random taggies:

@timelordfreya @mothandpidgeon @hellfire-state-of-mind @maggiemayhemnj @beefrobeefcal @yourcoolauntie @jolapeno @whocaresstillthelouvre @schnarfer @jennaispunk @wordywarriorwrites @ameerawrites @survivingandenduring @freelancearsonist @artsy-girl-76 @goodwithcheese @javierpena-inatacvest @bluestar22x @carusolikey @beldroxramscal @tonysopranosrobe @toxicanonymity @for-a-longlongtime @luxurychristmaspudding @magpiepills @gasolinerainbowpuddles @oliveksmoked @sp00kymulderr @rebel-held

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Jealous Javi?! 😍

may i verily please request an angst + smut with Javier peña please? I've been on Javi brain rot so much I can't get him out of my head 😭

ask and you shall receive x

i'm yours (javier pena x f! reader)

Masterlist | Ko-Fi

my asks are open for requests all month!!

Rating: 18+ (explicit, minors do not interact)

Word Count: 1.5K

Summary: your coworker/friend with benefits javi catches one of your idiot coworkers trying to hit on you. during a trip to the bathroom, javi shows you how you're his and nobody else's.

Content: Implied age gap, angst, explicit smut, fingering, dirty talk

Javi did not look happy. 

Javi didn't look happy most times that you or Steve drug him out to a round of drinks with the whole team. The only things that could lure Javi out were Steve buying him a free beer or being able to end the night with you, head buried between your thighs and making you writhe and moan his name.

But tonight, Javi's jaw was stiff with tension, and his eyes were dark and broody as he sat in the bar, pretending to listen to bullshit work stories while your clueless coworker John ghosted his hand lower and lower down your back, trying to pluck up the confidence to wrap it around your waist. 

John was a sweet kid - yes, you were the same age and in the same department but you always felt older than him. Maybe it was his baby face or his lack of facial hair. Maybe it was the fact that he was always following you around, like a lost puppy that was desperate for you to pay attention to him. You knew your limits and boundaries and that he was way too chicken shit to actually touch you without asking, so for now you didn't mind. 

But the way Javi's eyes were burning into you now was enough to send a shiver up your spine. He had no right to get so angry with you - he had never claimed you or said you were exclusive. He never wanted to talk about it. So what gave him the right to be staring daggers at you right now? 

He watched you excuse yourself from John, and walk off in the direction of the singular bathroom. He knew exactly where you were headed and waited a minute before excusing himself, heading off after you.

You were in the bathroom, washing your hands when you heard a knock. "Someone's in here."

"I know," Javi growled and stepped in, locking the door behind him.

"What are you doing?" you huffed. "Someone could need the restroom, you know."

"Why are you letting that little asshole touch you?" Javi demanded, standing in front of you, towering over you with his imposing frame.

"Why do you care?" It was a loaded question. You knew why. You've known why. But none of that is important until he says it.

"Because," Javi started, grabbing your waist. Once again, trying to shut you up with his body. You almost give in, your body sliding into him like a missing puzzle piece and his hot breath fanning your neck as he tries to lean down. 

But you step back.

"You're not my boyfriend. I'm not yours," you interrupted. "We're just...whatever we are." He fidgets his left fingers on his side clearly having phantom pangs for a cigarette. He looks down for a long moment, avoiding your gaze.

"Well, what if I want you to be mine?" He says softly, finally looking up at you.

Your heart starts to hammer against your chest. As many times as you'd picture this scenario, you didn't expect him to ever say that. Especially not while you're locked in a seedy bar bathroom.

"What's in it for me?" you asked, taking a step toward him, a challenge.

"Anything," he breathed out, pulling you in, hands tightening on your hips, his eyes darting between your eyes and your lips. "Whatever you want. I'll be good. I'll treat you good, baby. Just, fuck. Be mine. I can't watch that little twerp try and touch you anymore its driving me crazy."

"It's not my fault that you were too slow," you teased, inching up towards him. "What if I wanted him to touch me?"

"You don't." 

"I could," you challenged, pressing yourself against his hard chest.

"He doesn't want you like I do," he whispered, his strong nose brushing against yours, his hands sliding down your hips and cupping your ass, groaning when he felt your bare cheeks underneath your dress from your thong.

"Javi," you breathed out, tilting your chin up, trying to connect your lips, but he pulled back.

"Tell me you're mine, cariño," he said, squeezing your ass tighter, spreading your cheeks and making your hips rut into his. "I'm the only one who gets to touch you, huh? The only one that gets to feel you grind onto me? That gets to feel how bad you want my cock? Tell me, cariño. Tell me you're mine."

You bit back a moan, grinding yourself harder against his crotch, feeling his hard bulge in his jeans, his grip on your ass tightening, helping you move.

How were you supposed to know this wasn't a game? That it wasn't just a drunken confession that he would walk back in the morning over pillow talk? That this wasn't all because he was jealous, and it wasn't going to be like every other night. That he would want you again and again like you wanted him constantly. 

"You're gonna have to make me, Javi."

You didn't even have time to comprehend his next move before he spun you around, bending you over the sink. Your breasts pressed into the cool ceramic as his hands hiked up your dress, pulling your panties down to your ankles.

"This?" Javi said, running his finger up your soaked folds, gathering your arousal. is mine." He sucked the finger into his mouth, humming.

He pulled you towards him, his chest pressing into your back. He bent over you, his scruff tickling the shell of your ear as his hand snaked around to cup your breast. His fingers teased the nipple through the fabric of your dress and bra, twisting it.

"These are mine," he said lowly, nipping your earlobe. He kneaded at your breasts, squeezing and releasing, tugging and pinching, his teeth worrying your neck.

"This?" he asked, pushing his knee between your legs, nudging your feet apart, widening your stance. "Is mine," he said, his free hand moving to cup your mound.

“Javi” you whined, arching your back, trying to grind his fingers down and ride them, desperate for them to hit that spot that would give you the release you're aching for.

"Tell me, cariño," he hummed, his thumb flicking across your clit, his fingers teasing in and out of your hole. "Tell me."

"Fuck Javi," you whimpered, pressing yourself into him, grinding against his knee, feeling his clothed bulge hit the back of your thigh. "I need it so bad. Fuck me."

"Mine," he repeated, slipping his fingers deeper into your pussy. "Tell me, baby and I'll let you come all over my fingers and my cock. I wanna feel you cum, baby so bad. All for me. My pretty girl. I want the whole bar to hear you. Tell me, baby. Who do you belong to?"

You wanted so badly for this to be real and not a game. You'd toed the line all night, testing him, seeing what he would do, if he'd stop you and confess that he had feelings for you. But now you were done playing.

"You Javi," you moaned, leaning back into his chest, reaching your hand behind you to grip his hair, holding his head to your neck as he sucked a mark there. 

You heard him exhale a deep breath as he worked his fingers faster, rubbing at your clit with his palm. You let out a loud moan at the sudden change of pace.

"Good girl," he mumbled, pressing a soft kiss to your neck. "Cum for me, baby. Let them all hear how nobody can make you cum like me. Nobody else gets to see how gorgeous you are, the way you look so gorgeous when you fucking fall apart. Cum for me, cariño."

"I'm yours Javi, fuck, I'm yours." You let out a sharp cry as you came, your knees buckling, but Javi held you up, working his fingers slowly to draw out your high, whispering praise in your ear as you pulsed around his fingers.

"So good for me baby," he hummed, pulling his fingers out and bringing them to your lips. "Taste how good you are, pretty girl."

You moaned around his fingers, tasting yourself, sweet and salty. His fingers left your lips with a soft 'pop'. He brought his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean, a deep moan rumbling in his chest. The two of you looked at each other in the mirror, his eyes blown black, and a smug smile on his lips as he bent down to kiss you. 

"So..." You sheepishly bit your lip, turning around, pressing your back into the counter. "Does this mean we're a thing now? A real thing?"

Javi nodded, staring into your eyes in earnest.

"A thing that we tell people about? We won't sneak around? Cause, Javi, I like you. I like this."

"Me too, cariño," Javi breathed out, his arms wrapping around your waist, holding you close. "I'm sorry it took so long. I just, I don't really do this, you know? This is different for me."

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down for another long kiss.

"We can figure it out, Javi," you mumbled into the kiss.

"Now, cariño, we still have an issue. When we get back out there, what are you going to do about that little shit, John?"

You laughed and rolled your eyes. "I think I can manage."

"Better. I don't share," Javi winked, swatting your ass as the two of you walked out of the bathroom, your hand intertwined with his.

---

Yep. Yep. Yep. I wouldn’t be able to resist him

🤯🫠

What red flags?!

jealous possessive javi?

💖

tags: f!reader, smut, javi cheats on you, unprotected p in v sex (this is fiction but be safe irl), fingering, angst, jealous and possessive javi, unbeta'd, if i missed any other tags pls let me know ok thx. ~ 5.1k w/c / gif cred

a/n: toxic!javi stans, this is for us 🙂‍↕️ kat keep your writings short challenge (FAILED) hope you like this my sweet anon 🖤

You’ve been broken up for ten weeks now. Two months and ten agonizing days. Every minute since has felt like a slow burn, as if each breath without him is a reminder of the emptiness he left behind. You thought you’d have been over him by now— Javier Peña wasn’t supposed to have this kind of hold on you, not after everything he did.

Not after you walked into his office that night, a surprise dinner in hand, only to find him fucking his secretary. The image still sears behind your eyes— the slick, desperate way they moved together while you stood frozen in the doorway, a witness to your own heartbreak.

The signs had always been there, even from the first date. The way his eyes lingered a little too long on the waitress or how he’d get that restless look in his eyes when you weren’t around. But damn, he had a way of making you feel like you were the only one.

Like every glance, every touch, was meant for you and you alone. He had a gift for making you feel special, all while hiding his cock’s insatiable appetite behind a charming smile.

Now, you feel raw, like maybe it was your fault. Maybe you weren’t enough to keep him satisfied. Maybe you didn’t do enough in bed, didn’t keep his interest, didn’t hold onto him like you should have. The betrayal made you feel small, made you question every moment, every kiss, every whispered promise. It should’ve made walking away easier, catching him like that. It should’ve been enough to erase him from your mind. But it wasn’t.

And it’s taken this long— two months and ten days— of wallowing, of replaying the betrayal, to finally push you out of your haze. Tonight, something shifts. Your friend set you up with someone from her work, and after much prodding, you said yes.

Tonight, you’ve decided to put yourself back out there. Maybe if you let someone else touch you, if you let someone else in, you’ll finally be able to push Javier out of your mind for good.

It’s been radio silence ever since. After you caught him in his office, the scene unfolded like something out of a bad movie. His face went from shock to panic in a split second, scrambling to pull up his pants, stumbling over excuses. “She meant nothing,” he stammered, running after you with that flustered, desperate look. “It was a mistake!” But you didn’t stop, didn’t even give him a second glance. You barely held back the tears as you hurled the containers of food at him, the dinner you’d lovingly prepared splattering down the hallway, leaving a messy trail as you stormed toward the stairwell. No way in hell were you waiting for the elevator. Six flights of stairs felt like nothing compared to the pit in your stomach, and the thought of giving him even one more second to sweet talk you back into his web made you sick.

You blocked him on everything the minute you got home. Packed a bag with the essentials and bolted to your cousin’s place, where you spent weeks crying yourself to sleep on her couch. Not a single call. Not a text. Not that he could, since you blocked him on every possible avenue. But even then, he didn’t try. Not a knock on the door, not a surprise visit. You realized in those sleepless nights that he’d never really bothered to get close to anyone in your life. Another red flag you had stupidly painted green, thinking he was the man of your dreams.

So when you finally pull yourself together, forcing yourself out of that dark pit of misery and agreeing to this blind date at the bar, you’re in higher spirits. You’re ready to move on— or at least try. But of course, life has a twisted sense of humor. Because the last person you expect to see sitting at the bar, laughing with another woman like nothing happened, is Javier fucking Peña.

You’d recognize that broad, infuriatingly beautiful frame anywhere. He stands out like a sore thumb, even in the dim lighting. Broad shoulders, lean muscles, and the biggest mistake of your life. The shittiest man you’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting. And yet, the sight of him still makes your chest tighten, reminding you just how much you let him get away with.

You almost suggest to your date that you should hit up a different bar, something far across town, anywhere but here. But no, you catch yourself. You’re done letting your ex dictate your life, done letting him take up space in your head. You’ve shed too many tears over that man, and tonight isn’t going to be another chapter in the same pathetic story.

At first, he doesn’t even notice you. Of course, his attention is fully on the woman he’s with— some gorgeous thing with legs for days and a face that belongs on a magazine cover. It stings, that familiar twinge of jealousy creeping in. You can’t help it, especially when you know he’s always going to have a pretty girl on his arm.

It’s not until your date excuses himself to use the restroom that Javier’s dark, smoldering eyes finally land on you. And what does he do when your gazes meet? He fucking smirks. That slow, deliberate smirk that used to make your knees weak. He throws in a wink for good measure, casually bringing his short glass up to his lips, taking his time with a sip as if he hasn’t just shattered your evening. His eyes linger on you, tracing every inch of your body, undressing you from across the room without so much as a word.

You shift in your seat, heart pounding in your chest as you quickly turn away, forcing your focus on some random sports game playing on the big screen nearby. But even with your eyes elsewhere, you can feel it— the weight of his stare crawling down your neck, tracing the line of your plunging neckline. Of course he’s looking. Tonight is the night you pulled out the dress— the one kept tucked away for special occasions, the revenge dress.

Every girl has one. The one that hugs in all the right places, the one you save for when you need to remind the world, and yourself, exactly what you’re made of.

And while your date had all but drooled when you stepped out in it, there’s no denying the heat in Javier’s gaze from across the bar. You don’t have to look at him to know what he’s thinking— he’s already imagining that dress crumpled on his bedroom floor.

Your date returns from the restroom, noticeably tipsier and much more handsy than when he left. His touch is bold, his fingers possessive, and you revel in it.

You lean into the attention, letting him pull you closer, putting on a little show for the audience you know is watching. Javier might think he’s the only one who knows how to have fun, but you’re going to make sure he sees just how wrong he is.

Your date’s hands wander over your body— grabbing at your ass, pulling you into him by your hips. He leans in, hot breath against your ear, whispering all the filthy things he’s planning to do to you in the back of his car.

He doesn’t even want to wait until you’re back at your place. He’s desperate, and though you hesitate for a second— things are moving a lot faster than you planned— you can feel Javier’s eyes burning into the back of your skull. His relentless glare pushes you forward, stirring something reckless inside of you.

So, you let it happen. You let this guy press his body into yours, his hands traveling, voice dripping with lust, promising you things he probably won’t even remember tomorrow. But in the heat of the moment, you don’t care. It’s not about him, really. It’s about you. About knowing that Javier’s watching every second of this, hating every second of this, and that’s enough to fuel you.

The next thing you know, you’re outside in the alley behind the bar, lips locked like horny teenagers. His mouth is on your neck, sucking on that sensitive spot that makes your knees weak, and despite yourself, you let out a soft moan.

His fingers slip beneath your panties, fumbling as they rub at your clit, off-rhythm and sloppy. But right now, that doesn’t even matter. What matters is that someone else is touching you. Someone else is making you feel something other than loneliness and anger.

Suddenly, he’s ripped off you, and the cool air rushes in where his body had been pressed against yours. Your eyes snap open, and there he is—Javier, seething with rage, his hand gripping your date by the collar. The force with which he slams him into the brick wall makes your heart lurch.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” you shout, the shock sobering you up fast as you yank down the hem of your dress, covering yourself as best as you can. Anger surges through you, hot and wild. Your hands tremble as you take in the scene— Javier’s knuckles white against your date’s shirt, his face a mask of pure fury.

Javier’s voice is low, dangerous, a growl vibrating from his chest. “Who the fuck do you think you are, touching what’s mine?”

The laugh that bursts out of you is involuntary, bitter, filled with disbelief. His?! Your mind spins. After everything he’s done, after the way he broke you, he still has the audacity to act like you belong to him? Like you’re some possession he can claim when it suits him?

“She didn’t tell me she was seeing anyone,” your date stammers, already backing down, and you want to scream. Men used to go to war. Now, they cower when a bigger man steps in.

You feel an irrational surge of anger, not just at Javier but at this pathetic display of submission.

“Because I’m not,” you spit, stomping over to where Javier has your date pinned against the wall. You shove at Javier’s arm, trying to break his grip, but it’s like trying to move a mountain. You forgot how strong he is, how solid. His presence alone feels suffocating, like a storm rolling in and swallowing all the air around you.

Javier’s eyes flick toward you for a split second before turning back to the man trembling in his grasp. “You come near her again, and I’ll shoot your fucking knees out. You hear me? She doesn’t need a limp dick motherfucker like you putting your filthy fucking hands on her.” His words are a snarl, dripping with venom, and you can see the terror in your date’s eyes, his resolve crumbling as fast as it appeared.

It’s brief, but, you think your date might actually muster the courage to stand his ground. However, Javier’s patience snaps, and before you can react, he drives his knee into the guy’s groin with brutal precision. The man lets out a strangled whimper, doubling over in pain, and Javier finally releases him.

You gasp, hand flying to your mouth, watching in disbelief.

“Understood?” Javier’s voice cuts through the alley like a blade.

Your date nods frantically, both hands clutching his crotch as he stumbles away, all but sprinting out of the alley like a scared animal. The sound of his hurried footsteps fades, leaving you and Javier alone in the dim light.

Your fury boils over, fists clenching at your sides. “You’ve got some fucking nerve, Peña,” you snap, marching up to him and shoving at his chest with every ounce of strength you can summon. But he doesn’t budge. He stands there, unshakable, like the damn tower of arrogance he’s always been.

“Ruining my date, acting like you have some claim over me. I’m not yours anymore!”

Javier’s dark eyes are locked on you, tracing your every movement, burning a path from your heaving chest to your flushed cheeks. He doesn’t say a word, but his gaze alone sends a shiver down your spine.

It’s not just anger in those eyes. It’s something else, something that has always made your pulse quicken. The intensity of it makes your breath hitch, even though you’re trying your hardest to stay mad, to stay strong.

You push him again, but it feels like pushing against stone. “You think you can just show up, intimidate some guy, and suddenly I’m yours again? That’s not how this works you asshole.”

He says nothing, his chest rising and falling as he watches you, eyes dark and unreadable. Then he leans in, his voice low and rough. “So I’m just supposed to hang back and watch you practically fuck that guy in front of everyone?”

His words send a jolt of heat through you, the way his voice drops to that familiar, dangerous rumble that used to make your knees weak. But you force yourself to stand firm, to remind yourself that you’re mad— furious, even.

You won’t let him have this kind of power over you again. You can’t.

“Go to hell, Javier,” you snap, shoving him one last time before stepping back, your heart hammering in your chest.

But even as you say it, you feel the pull, that magnetic force that’s always existed between the two of you. And as much as you want to hate him, you can’t deny that part of you still burns for him, still aches for the way he used to make you feel.

“Chiquita,” he drawls, sending shivers down your spine. “You can’t talk to me all angry like that, looking this fucking good, and expect me not to want to push you up against that wall and fuck you like you need.”

Your jaw drops, your brain scrambling for a response, but nothing comes out. His words hit you like a slap, bold and filthy, and despite yourself, heat shoots straight to your cunt. You curse under your breath, hating how your body betrays you.

“Y-You—” you stammer, but you can’t even string a sentence together. And that’s all it takes for him to smirk, that infuriating, knowing smirk that tells you he still has that effect on you.

“You’ve got that girl in there,” you snap, voice trembling even as you try to hold your ground. “Your secretary, and probably half the goddamn city, waiting to spread their legs for you. Not me. Not anymore.”

But even as you say it, your voice falters. The truth you’re trying to convince yourself of feels thin, weak in the face of his presence. He takes a step closer, and instinctively, you take a step back.

“Still hung up on that?” He shakes his head, almost amused. “C’mon, baby, I told you. She was a mistake. She came onto me.”

Another step forward. Another step back.

You can’t believe he’s really doing this— feeding you the same tired excuses. But then again, you can. This is exactly what men like Javier Peña do.

They lie, they cheat, and they make you feel like you’re the one being unreasonable.

“Bullshit someone else, Peña,” your voice shakes again, betraying you. “I’m done with you.”

But he keeps advancing, every step pushing you back until your spine hits the cold, rough brick of the alley wall. You curse under your breath, ready to slip past him, to get out of here before he does something you can’t walk away from. But he moves faster, caging you in with his hands planted on either side of your head.

“I’m not bullshitting,” he murmurs as he leans in close. You can feel the warmth of his breath against your cheek, and despite every ounce of willpower, your body reacts.

His dark brown eyes burn into you, their intensity pulling you under. “She meant nothing. Pussy wasn’t even half as good as yours. Couldn’t even compare.” His nose brushes the side of your face, and you know he’s inhaling the scent of your perfume— the one he always loved.

“Javier…” you try to protest, but your resolve crumbles with each passing second. His hand finds your waist, slowly trailing up the length of your body, fingertips grazing your skin through the thin fabric of your dress. Your breath hitches, and you hate yourself for it.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he whispers, his voice softer now. His palm comes up to cup your breast, kneading it gently, and your eyes flutter closed, surrendering to the familiar touch that your body still craves, even if your mind is screaming at you to stop.

“You’re a liar,” you breathe, barely managing to get the words out as his fingers tease your hardened nipple through the fabric of your dress.

Before you can react, his other hand moves with lightning speed, wrapping firmly around your throat. He squeezes just enough to tilt your head back, forcing you to meet his gaze. The heat in his eyes is undeniable.

“Don’t say that,” he growls. His grip tightens just slightly, enough to make your pulse quicken under his palm. “Do you know how much it fucking hurt to see another man touching you the way I did? Huh?” He leans in, his lips hovering near your ear as his breath tickles your skin. “You can be so inconsiderate sometimes, cariño.”

Your heart races in your chest, caught between anger and arousal. You should push him away, should scream at him, but the way he’s looking at you— like you’re the only thing that matters in the world— makes it impossible to move.

You open your mouth to speak, but his grip around your throat tightens just enough to rob you of breath, silencing whatever retort you had.

“Letting him put his hands on you like that…” he scoffs, his dark eyes scanning your face as if daring you to deny it. “Touching up on my pretty pussy like he had the fucking right. Like he could handle what’s mine. Even if you had fucked him, we both know he wouldn’t have left you all sore and throbbing the way I do. Wouldn’t have made you wet enough to take his small cock. You’d have to fake it. And for what? To try and make me jealous?”

His words are cutting, sinful, and despite your anger, you feel the way your arousal smears against the fabric of your underwear.

The twisted satisfaction in his voice, the way his grip tightens then loosens just enough for you to breathe— he knows exactly how to break you down, how to remind you that no one has ever made you feel the way he does.

“It seems like it worked,” you manage to gasp out, your voice a rasp as you gulp in air. “You came out here all pissed at the thought that someone else could make me feel better than you ever did.”

That’s what does it. His control snaps.

In an instant, his lips crash against yours in a bruising kiss. It’s rough, possessive, and desperate. His tongue invades your mouth, demanding and unapologetic, as if he’s punishing you for even thinking someone else could replace him.

His hand, the one that had been so firmly on your throat, moves to grope your breast, squeezing you roughly. You moan against his mouth, your body reacting on instinct, traitorous in its desire for him.

“Esos ruidos tan bonitos. Solo para mí.” He murmurs when he pulls back just enough to speak, a string of spit still connecting your mouths. His voice is low, vibrating with dark satisfaction. “Si alguien está mintiendo aquí, eres tú, chiquita.”

His words swirl in your head as you gasp for breath, but before you can form a coherent thought, his hand is already sliding down your body. His fingers trail down your waist, lingering at the hem of your dress before slipping underneath. You let out a sharp gasp, biting down on your lip as his fingers find your soaked panties.

It all happens so fast after that. The hunger between you ignites like a flame catching gasoline. The intensity of the kiss deepens, all teeth and tongues. His possessive touch makes you writhe beneath him, your body yielding even as your mind fights to hold on to some shred of dignity.

“Look at you,” he breathes against your lips, his voice dripping with desire. “Moaning for me. You always do, don’t you?”

“Javier…” You try to protest, but your words are swallowed by another moan as his fingers slip inside your panties, brushing against your throbbing clit.

“Shh, baby. Let me remind you what you’ve been missing,” he whispers, his breath hot against your skin as his fingers begin to stroke you. His movements are deliberate, knowing exactly how to play your body, how to coax those helpless little noises from your throat. “God, you’re so fucking wet. All for me. Always for me.”

You gasp his name, your hands gripping his shoulders as his fingers slide inside you, curling just right. The tension in your body melts, replaced with a rush of heat that pools between your thighs. Your mind blanks, lost in the feel of him— his hand working you over, his mouth pressing hot kisses to your neck.

“You mean everything to me,” he whispers into your ear, his voice ragged as he pumps his fingers in and out of you, the slick sound filling the alley. “This tight little pussy? She was made for me. Feels like heaven around my fingers. Imagine how good she’ll feel wrapped around my cock, huh?”

Your body trembles, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as the pressure inside you builds with each thrust of his fingers. You know you shouldn’t be here, pinned against a wall, letting this man who shattered your heart pull you apart like this.

But God, his touch is addictive. His possessive words ignite every part of you.

“Say it,” he growls, his fingers curling deeper, hitting that perfect spot that makes you see stars. “Tell me you’re mine.”

“Javier…” Your voice is barely a whisper, your resolve crumbling with each passing second as he drags you closer and closer to the edge.

“Say it baby,” he demands, his breath hot against your skin as his thumb presses against your clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. “Tell me I’m the only one who can fuck you like this.”

“No,” you gasp, using every ounce of willpower to bring your hand down, gripping his wrist, halting the delicious rhythm of his fingers inside you.

His fingers still, his breath heavy against your skin as you lock eyes with him, summoning every shred of confidence through the haze of lust clouding your mind. “You tell me that. Tell me I’m the only one who drives you this crazy.”

The tension crackles between you, thick and electric. Your chest heaves, heart racing as his dark eyes search yours.

He groans, leaning in, his lips brushing yours with a desperate hunger. “You are,” he breathes, but it’s not enough.

You can’t help but smirk, your pussy clenching around his fingers just to tease him, making him hiss through clenched teeth. “Say it like you mean it, Javier,” you demand, fueled by the fire burning between your thighs. “You broke my fucking heart, and if you think you’re going to fuck me tonight, you’re going to admit it. Tell me I did everything right. That you are the one who’s hurting. Tell me how much you miss this pussy. How you crave her on your tongue, how you miss fucking her in your bed.”

His eyes drown in lust at your command. His fingers twitch inside you, but he doesn’t move yet. Instead, he pulls back just enough to meet your gaze head-on, staring straight into your soul, his breath ragged and uneven.

It’s a battle of wills, and for a second, you think you’ve won.

“I’m sorry, pretty girl,” he purrs, and finally, his fingers begin to move again, slow and deliberate, a tantalizing rhythm that sends sparks of pleasure shooting up your spine. “Sorry for hurting you so bad you felt the need to find another dick to hop on.” His thumb presses against your clit, making your hips buck involuntarily as you gasp at the sensation. “I fucked up. You deserve better.”

His words are laced with apology, but his actions? Pure, selfish desire. His fingers curl inside you, hitting that perfect spot that makes your toes curl. Your head falls back against the brick wall, eyes fluttering closed as a ragged moan escapes your lips.

“But I’m too selfish to let you go,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice low and husky. “I need you, baby. Miss how sweet you taste, how tight you feel.”

Javier’s mouth is on your neck then, his tongue darting out to lick at the damp skin, tasting the salt of your sweat as his fingers continue their relentless assault. Each stroke brings you closer to the edge, and it’s intoxicating— how easily he can unravel you, how effortlessly he pulls you apart.

Your body feels weightless, high on him, and with each praise, each filthy promise that falls from his lips, you’re hurtling toward your release. His thumb circles your clit faster now, his fingers curling deeper, and you can’t hold it back any longer.

“Javier!” you cry out, your walls clenching around his fingers as the orgasm crashes through you, making your body tremble. Your moans fill the alleyway, breathless and raw, and as you come undone, his mouth crashes into yours in a sloppy, desperate kiss.

He swallows your moans as he undoes his belt with one hand, his fingers never leaving you until the last possible second. Before you even have time to catch your breath, he’s lifting you off the ground, and instinctively, your legs wrap around his waist.

You barely have time to gasp before he’s thrusting inside you, burying himself to the hilt in one swift, brutal motion.

“Oh fuck!” you exclaim, your arms flying around his neck as he starts to pound into you, his thrusts deep and punishing. The sound of your bodies colliding, skin slapping against skin, echoes in the narrow alley. Every thrust pushes you further up the wall, and you clutch onto him for dear life as he fucks you hard, like a man possessed.

“Feels so good, baby,” he growls into your ear, his hands gripping your hips as he drives into you relentlessly. “Only I can fuck you like this. Only I can make you scream.”

And you do scream, pleasure and frustration mixing together as you meet his punishing thrusts, your body moving on instinct, chasing the high that only Javier can give you.

“You feel that, pretty girl?” His voice is a low rasp in your ear, thick with need, sending a jolt of pleasure straight through your core. “This—this is how I fuck what’s mine. No one else can make you feel like this. Admit it.”

His grip tightens on your hips, fingers digging into your skin as he drives into you, deeper, rougher. It’s brutal how good he feels, how perfectly his cock stretches and fills you, like your body was made for him.

You hate him, hate that he can still make you feel this fucking good, but your body betrays you, responding to his every touch, clenching around him as if to hold him there forever.

“I—” you stutter, breathless, eyes crossing as the sensations drown out your thoughts. His cock is relentless, pushing you toward the edge again, and you can’t hold back the moan that escapes your lips. “I—God, I hate you…”

But it sounds hollow, even to your own ears. The truth is you can’t resist him, never could. He knows exactly how to break you apart, and you despise how much you crave him, how much you need this despite the pain he’s brought you.

Javier chuckles darkly, his breath hot against your neck. “No, you don’t. You love this. You love the way I make you feel.” His lips brush the shell of your ear, biting down on your lobe. “And I love the way you fall apart for me. Just me.”

You bite your lip, trying to stifle the moans that threaten to spill out as he thrusts harder, faster. You can feel the pressure building inside you again, tightening with every stroke, every whispered promise of what he’ll do to you.

It’s almost too much, the way he claims you, body and soul. And the worst part? You’re letting him. You want him to.

“Say it,” he demands, his pace quickening, hips slamming into you so hard you’re sure you’ll feel it for days. His lips find yours again, his kiss angry and claiming. “Say you’re mine.”

You shake your head, gasping, fighting against the overwhelming pleasure threatening to consume you. “Javier—”

“Say it,” he growls, his voice rough and insistent as he reaches between your bodies, fingers finding your clit. He circles it with precision, sending sharp jolts of pleasure through your body, pushing you closer to the brink.

“Fuck!” You cry out, the intensity of his touch stealing the breath from your lungs. Your body is on fire, trembling, and you know you’re about to shatter beneath him. “I—I’m yours…”

The words tumble from your lips in a desperate whisper, and the moment they do, it’s like something snaps inside him. His thrusts become brutal, animalistic, and your world narrows down to the feel of him— his cock, his hands, his lips, all of it overwhelming you, driving you toward that final, devastating release.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “Now come for me.”

And with that, you do. The orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, crashing through your body with a force that leaves you breathless. Your walls clench tight around him, your moans loud and unrestrained as you come undone in his arms, shaking and trembling.

Javier groans, his thrusts becoming erratic as he follows you over the edge, spilling himself inside you with a low, primal grunt. His body shudders against yours, his grip on you tightening as he rides out his release.

The world is still. All you can hear is the sound of your ragged breaths and the pounding of your heart as you both come down from the high. You’re pressed against him, his forehead resting against yours, the intensity of the moment hanging in the air between you.

But as the haze of pleasure fades, reality starts creeping back in.

You push him away, your palms flat against his chest, but he doesn’t move, if anything, he tightens his hold on you.

His brown eyes still linger on yours, filled with the same possessiveness that’s always been there.

“I told you,” he murmurs, voice low, as if this moment has proven everything he wanted to. “You’re mine.”

🏷️ : @almostempty . @auteurdelabre . @magneticecstasy . @miss-oranje-disco-dancer . @pepperstories . @bitchesuntitled . @angiewatson .

started a tag list for my works here, so if you're interested— pls check it out 🖤

---

Oooooooh lordy!!!! 🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠

Gimme gimme gimme gimme gimme

WEDNESDAY! This is amaaaaaazing!

Now I’m gonna spend the rest of my work day just thinking about being in a Joel and Javi sandwich 🤤😍🫠

Paris, Texas

(joel miller x javier peña x f!reader)

aka: 2 Texans, 1 Lady 🎀 The joel x javi x reader threesome

WC: 9.6k | Other fics | Rating: 18+ | Read on Ao3

Note: hey y'all, i'm back with almost 10k of pure threesome smut! I would say that once again nobody asked for this, but WRONG THERE ARE AT LEAST A FEW OF US OUT HERE SEARCHING THE JOEL X JAVI X READER tags so this is for u.  

Tags: au suspend whatever disbelief you need to make everyone the ages you want, modern, no outbreak, established relationship between joel x f!reader, joel's got some internalized homophobia bc it made sense to me, javier doesn't bc he's too sexy or per @auteurdelabre he's too busy knockin' boots with prossies to be homophobic, dubcon slightly bc joel didn't ask any questions (typical), gratuitous self indulgent 3some smut, jealous!joel, angry!joel, possessive!joel (the trifecta), snarky!javi, blow jobs, fingering, piv, lil bit of m/m action, and BUCKLE UP WE'RE GOIN' TO PARIS TO VISIT THE EIFFEL TOWER- well, i guess they don't actually high five or whatever technicality is required but don't fight me on that pls bc i think it's funny, smut, pwp, just 10k of 3 hotties bangin' idk what else you want to know

thanks: to @auteurdelabre for making sure nobody has an extra dick or arm or anything, unless i added one after she read the last draft, all other mistakes are on me, also thanks to @gothcsz for supporting the threesome agenda, and to @magneticecstasy for inspiring me to get to work

You bring it up in the dim glow of the living room. Joel’s eyes flick up from the TV, a blend of surprise and skepticism dancing across his rugged features.

“I’ve been thinking…” You begin, your voice soft, almost shy.

“That’s never good,” he teases, a smirk tugging at his lips. You give him an exaggerated eye roll and a playful shove. “Go on, then.”

“Thinking about trying something new,” you say, letting the words hang thick in the air.

“Keep talkin’, baby,” he replies, his voice low and even, but his eyes are locked on you now, a sharp focus that makes your pulse quicken.

“Well, I was talking with Maria at girls' night,” you continue, testing the waters, but he cuts in, a groan escaping him.

“I do not want to know what my brother is up to in the bedroom.”

“Not like that!” you laugh, your eyes sparkling with mischief. “We were talking about… fantasies.”

“Fantasies,” he repeats, his tone gruff but intrigued, leaning forward slightly. “And what’d ya come up with now?”

A wicked grin curves your lips. “What if we had a threesome?” It slips out in a sultry whisper, and you watch his eyes widen, a flash of something primal crossing his face. There’s surprise there, but also a flicker of something possessive.

Joel’s expression shifts. Conflicted. He’s processing, and you can see the cogs turning, his jaw working. 

But when you decide to ease him into it with the heat of your body, straddling his lap and murmuring all the filthy, delicious things you crave from him, his resolve crumbles. 

His grip tightens, and he hauls you to the bedroom, fucking you senseless until you swear you forget how to speak.

Afterward, tangled in the sheets, Joel agrees easily, his voice a rumble against your skin. You promise to take care of everything, and he relaxes at that. He was not interested in navigating the potential pitfalls of approaching another woman or making you feel insecure.

….

But when the night of your escapade arrives, and you glide back into the living room with your guest trailing behind you, Joel’s stomach drops. He realizes he fucked up by letting you take care of everything. 

Javier’s presence is magnetic, his entrance commanding. He strides into the room like a predator, and Joel can feel the air change, thickening with danger and desire. 

You’re giddy at the reality of your fantasy coming true as you introduce the two men. You look back and forth between them and laugh when you realize you definitely have a type. 

Joel can’t deny you’re radiant, practically floating as you offer Javier a seat. But he’s still immobilized. You never clarified what kind of threesome you meant. He never thought to ask.

The scent of spicy, smoky leather that follows Javier is a direct challenge to Joel, but to you, it’s a potent aphrodisiac. 

You’ve got butterflies and an electric hum in your veins. Knowing what Javier showed up for makes the anticipation even stronger. You all know why, but nobody has said it out loud yet, and you’re dying to see who makes the first move. You figure the unspoken understanding gives you good reason to unapologetically check out your new date and your lover. 

You can’t help but admire the contrast between the two men: Joel, rough and rugged, and Javier, with his dark, smoldering confidence.

Joel catches how you’re drawn to Javier, and something ugly begins to unfurl in his chest. His eyes narrow, jealousy and irritation simmering, as you nudge him to pour drinks, oblivious to the storm brewing within him. 

You’re too caught up in Javier’s flirting and the tension thrumming through the room. You don’t see the shock rooting your man in place. 

But when you glance back at Joel, you see it—a shadow behind his eyes, something wild and unyielding. Your pussy skips a beat, and your breath hitches. His fierce look is a major turn-on, but a cooling realization washes over you. 

“Oh, shit,” you blurt out, putting together your mistake. You scramble to find a way to intervene. Filtering through ideas for facilitating this hiccup when Javier’s hand rests on your shoulder. His touch sends a thrill racing down your spine.

“Breathe,” Javier murmurs, his voice a low rasp that curls around your senses. “We’ve got plenty of time to get to know each other.”

You feel Joel’s gaze burn into where Javier’s fingers rest on your skin, his stare molten, and you know he won’t laugh this off.

“Hey,” you coax gently, like soothing a wild animal, “let’s back up for a—”

“The fuck is this?” Joel's voice is low and frighteningly calm for someone who just remembered how to speak. You can feel his anger rattling in its cage, and you know it won’t stay contained for long.  

It makes you falter, words disappearing on your tongue as you look between the two men. Javier remains unfazed—smug, almost. His eyes flick from you to Joel, the corner of his mouth curling.

“I was under the impression you were looking for a third,” Javier says smoothly. “But if I got that wrong, I won’t waste my time.” He starts to turn, a fluid, arrogant motion, but you reach for his arm, your touch urgent.

“Wait,” you sound flustered. “This was my mistake. Give me a minute.”

Javier’s gaze softens, and you can feel the emotions radiating from Joel. You press on, cheeks burning with embarrassment, struggling to convey what you’d hoped for, how you didn’t intend to mislead anyone. But Joel’s not looking at you—his eyes are fixed on Javier, a dangerous glint in them.

“You knew,” he mutters like it’s a heinous accusation, eyes boring into Javier, who looks back with a cocky and relaxed expression.

“I wouldn’t turn down a beautiful woman like yours,” Javier replies, voice low and velvety, the kind of tone that sets your nerves alight. When his hand ghosts down your spine, Joel’s nostrils flare, his posture rigid.

“Who agrees to a threesome with another man?” Joel snaps with disdain.

“Someone who isn’t threatened by another man,” Javier says, his voice sharp as a blade but undisturbed. 

Joel’s laugh is a harsh bark. 

You watch the exchange. Despite your embarrassment and fear of fucking things up, something else stirs. 

Is it perverse that you have the urge to test Joel’s restraint? The weight of the animosity pouring off of Joel is surreal like you can’t lift your limbs, but your heart races faster. An indecent surge of excitement and arousal speeds up your breathing. 

Joel’s enthusiasm about the night has morphed into something dark. The realization that you wanted to bring another man into your bed hits him hard. This wasn’t what he had in mind, and it stings more than he’d like to admit. 

Javier’s calm, flirtatious demeanor only fuels Joel’s distaste for the man. 

“You think I feel threatened?” Joel challenges with a short huff and incredulous shake of his head. 

Javier’s response is serrated and mocking. “I think someone who isn’t comfortable with their own sexuality would be. And, clearly, someone who isn’t confident enough to handle sharing.” 

“Clearly?” Joel snorts a dismissive laugh and finally looks back at you. He catches how your breath comes quicker and the way your eyelids are heavy with lust. 

Your visible arousal overrides his irritation and trickles down his spine. He checks himself. For you. “I’ve got nothing to be insecure about.” 

You pipe up, suggesting everyone slow down and take time to get comfortable like Javier had suggested. They agree, but you wouldn’t know it by their clipped, terse tone. Joel reveals nothing beyond his profession and place of residence—contractor, Austin, despite your eyes begging him to relax. Javier, or Javi he adds, with a wink, only shares he’s former DEA, originally from Laredo.

“Two Texans,” you quip, trying to inject some lightness, “Lucky me.” 

You might even crack a smile out of them when you add, “Well, you know what they say, everything’s bigger in Texas and all.” 

Despite their not-at-all-subtle jabs at each other, both men are happy to listen to you. After another drink, you feel yourself relaxing between them on the couch. 

You’re a little softer and looser. Laughing warmly and letting yourself rest your hand on Javier’s thigh. You can still feel Joel’s jealousy flaring hot beside you, barely masked by a dismissive attitude. 

Javier is alluring and charming. You can feel it provoking a competitive beast within Joel, but you do your best to soothe the beast within your man, leaning into Joel and shooting flirty glances at him.

You’re receptive to his possessive touch, which softens Joel’s resolve. For you. Only for you.  

Eventually, he leans in to whisper in his gravelly voice right into your ear. “If this is really what you want, baby, you can have him. I ain’t gettin’ into bed with another man, though.” Your face beams as a sharp tug of want straightens your spine. 

“You wanna watch?” you purr louder than you intended. Javi can’t pretend he didn’t hear. The corners of his lips lift in amusement. He leans in close to you, pressing his body into yours and sandwiching you between the two men. His hand drifts down your side, and his lips graze your neck, sending shivers rippling across your skin.

The charge between them is intoxicating, and you feel restless. You can’t sit still as your pussy throbs between your legs. You burn like you’re running a fever from their attention and the heat of their firm bodies.

Javi’s eyes meet Joel’s over your shoulder. “He just wants to see his woman feel good, right?” His hand inches up your thigh, teasing at the hem of your dress.

The air is thick. Crackling. Every nerve in your body is on high alert as you breathe, “Please.” The word is barely audible, but Joel hears it. He nods, a reluctant agreement, and sits back to watch as Javier’s hand confidently dives beneath your dress.

Javi's fingers find the edge of your lace-trimmed panties. "Oh, you wore these just for us, didn’t you?” His mustache tickles your ear, but his voice is a molten desire. You nod. You did buy a matching set just for tonight. Well, you actually bought three because you couldn’t decide, but that’s not the point. 

“Yes,” you murmur, anticipation vibrating through you.

“Atta girl,” Javier’s voice drips with approval, his tone smooth and confident as it washes over you. His words alone are enough to make you melt, but when his mouth finds the sensitive curve of your neck and his hand slides over your mound to cup the soaked satin covering your seam, your moan is abruptly cut off with a sharp gasp. 

Javier’s touch is direct and firm. His fingers press the fabric into your swollen clit and drag a torturously slow pattern. Your body arches into him, seeking more. 

He praises you and teases you gently for being so wet you are already and making such sweet noises for him. You aren’t sure if he’s taunting you or Joel, but your body doesn’t care as it shudders in response. Soft moans are interrupted by short gasps as Javier tests your responses. 

You feel a burning heat bloom over your chest and face. Embarrassment and shame creep over you at the impropriety of your reactions to another man in front of Joel. But they’re quickly replaced with a depraved spike of arousal when you clock Joel’s covetous glare. His steadfast scrutiny feeds a hedonistic creature within you that claws and scratches to see him react. 

Joel is transfixed. Captivated, yet conflicted. He’s not one to share, and watching you respond so eagerly to another man’s touch grates at him. The way your lashes flutter, the soft parting of your lips—every reaction you give Javier twists the knife deeper into his gut. Yet, you’re a vision, an intoxicating blend of submission and temptation. You give him a look like the whole show is for him.  His cock is already throbbing, hard and heavy in his jeans, and it’s maddening.

Javier moves with precision. He pushes the straps of your dress down, murmuring about wanting to see what’s underneath. The words are for you, but the glance he shoots at Joel is all challenge. Joel’s eyes narrow, a feral glint in them, but when he sees the familiar color of the lace and mesh hugging your soft breasts, his lips twitch into a knowing smirk. It’s his favorite color. His. 

The fog of possessive desire whispers ideas to Joel. He likes the one about grabbing Javier by the shoulders and tossing him across the room so he can show off the way you beg for his cock. He feels tempted to make a barbaric declaration about who you belong to. 

Instead, Joel can’t stop himself from barking orders at Javier. “Take it off her,” he commands, his voice tight. Javier complies without argument, hands deftly removing your bra before they’re back on your skin, lips on your neck. “She likes it when you bite,” Joel adds, “not too hard.” 

Joel’s cock strains painfully against his jeans, begging for attention, as he watches how your form pulls taught beneath Javier. Your skin buzzes, and your muscles draw tight, pressure building under both men’s attention. 

Javi gives Joel a sidelong glance, “You sure you don’t want to take notes, Joel? Learn something new?” He punctuates his verbal taunt by pulling a loud gasp from you as his fingers slip under your panties to tease at your slick seam before he dips them into your eager entrance. Your head tips back, eyes fluttering shut as the sensations somehow intensify. 

Joel scoffs, “You’re a sideshow, Javi. I know what she needs; I keep her more than satisfied.” His restraint wanes as he tries to adjust himself in his jeans. “Tell him, baby,” his voice comes out curt and guttural as his thighs spasm, and he coughs to kill the groan in his chest. 

A pornographic “Yes!” Is the most complex sentence you can form. You hope it pleases Joel because your tongue and brain are otherwise numb. The sensation of Javier rutting against you through his jeans is enough to make you cross-eyed, but his fingers and mouth are relentless. 

Javier repeats Joel’s claim, “You know what she needs,” he muses as if his fingers weren’t creating obscene wet noises as he draws them out of you and plunges them back in, “And how about what she wants?” 

“Yes,” you offer again, unaware if that one was rhetorical, as Javi descends. He mouths and sucks in turn at each of your taut nipples as his fingers crook just right against your plush, wet walls. 

“Take it, baby, let go,” Joel’s gruff command is tinged with a ragged desperation. You obey and give in, letting the pleasure consume you and sweep you away. Joel couldn’t give a shit about Javier’s ego trip as he watches you. The involuntary muscle contractions and throaty moans you make are unfiltered and unchoreographed. Messy and vulnerable. In his eyes, you exude a divine, feminine energy, and it calls to Joel’s baser instincts. 

You weave your fingers into Javier’s hair, tugging him up for a kiss that’s been burning on your lips since this all started. 

It lights up your whole body. You feel yourself rocking into him unconsciously and sinking into his kiss. Javi groans when you tug at his bottom lip with your teeth. It thrills you to hear the first slip in his composure. 

Joel’s reverential dream bursts. He was enraptured at you writhing and squirming with pleasure in front of him, but when you kiss Javier back with such abandon, his vision sharpens. The noises you both make are too tender, too intimate. It incites his caveman brain, and he is compelled to reassert his claim to you. 

“Fuck this,” he spits out with an angry rasp. Your eyes snap open in surprise, confusion flickering across your features. Javier turns his head, hands not releasing you, his eyebrow arching in mild amusement.

“Does she not sing like this for you?” Javier heckles, “Does she not soak your fingers? Pussy begging to be filled with more?” 

If you were asked on a Tuesday afternoon, with second-day hair and a sweet treat in your hand, you might reject the idea. It’s not that it’s anti-feminist or anything; different strokes for different folks and all. It’s just not your kink per se. 

You might not see the appeal in having two men speak about you as if you weren’t in the room, arguing about what you enjoyed on your behalf, and essentially making you a pawn and denoting your pleasure as a benchmark in their big-dick-masculinity competition. 

You might consider having a conversation about the objectification of women, clarify that you are not property to be owned or auctioned off. 

But right now? High on the oxytocin in your blood and the testosterone in the air? Frozen between the venomous Javier and teeth-gnashing Joel? 

You’d knock that other version of you over like it was Black Friday, 2005, and she was the only thing between you and a mid-range flatscreen TV with a yellow sale price sticker to be first in line to see Joel’s next move. 

Joel’s eyes flash. “I ain’t gonna just sit here and watch this,” he says, his voice low and dangerous as he reaches for you, pulling you to your feet. 

“Come ’ere.” His hand tightens around your arm as he tugs you close, his gaze flicking to Javier with a barely concealed sneer. The possessive display makes you whine. 

Javier frowns, unserious, mocking. “That’s too bad,” he sucks his teeth, “I’d love to see what she does that keeps a brute like you civilized,” he slinks closer to run his thumb over your lip. He looks to Joel before he continues in a smoky tone. 

“Is it how she uses that sweet mouth to suck your cock?” His gaze drops to the unmistakable hard-on leaking in Joel’s denim, and you feel your man bristle at being ogled at by Javier. “No, I bet she tames you with that needy cunt, hm? Takes you just right?” 

“Holy shit,” you breathe out accidentally. Javier’s filthy mouth might as well be speaking directly to your pussy. 

You don’t see the cocky grin that spreads on Joel’s face. He lets out a sharp, dismissive exhale before addressing Javier. “Oh, you can come too,” you don’t know why that sounds like a challenge, “if that’s what she wants.”

“Please, Joel,” you whisper, your voice raw with need, “I want you both.”

“Yeah, baby, you’ll get what you want,” Joel grits out, his voice hard as steel. His eyes bore into Javier’s with unbridled disdain. “Ain’t gonna be some shitty ex-cop that gets you off again, though. That’s all for me.”

Javi’s playful smirk falters, and a dangerous glint sparkles in his eyes. “Careful, cowboy,” he says, his voice laced with venom. “I’ve got nothing to prove here.” He takes his time eyeing you and Joel up and down before continuing. “I’m starting to think it’s not sharing with another man that’s got you wound so tight,” he pauses, swallowing, before continuing with calculated precision, “I think you’re afraid you’ll like it.” 

“Get out,” Joel bellows dangerously. 

But Javier doesn’t budge. He stands his ground, his gaze never leaving yours. “Is that what you want?” he asks, ignoring Joel’s seething presence beside you.

The room is electric. Lightning shoots through your nervous system. You look at Joel. His raw, dominating aura entices you. Maybe you’re wrong for this, but he looks so fucking hot when he’s worked up like this. They both do, you realize, your gaze darting between them.

“Fuck,” you whisper, a breathless exhale, your heart pounding in your chest. Joel’s grip on your arm loosens just a fraction. The dark current of violence in his eyes recedes as he searches your face. Your eyes are blown with lust, and you wobble like the tension between the two men is going to knock you on your ass. 

“All right,” Joel mutters, his voice thick with barely contained emotion. He takes a steadying breath, his eyes flicking to Javier, then back to you. “Both of you—”

“Bedroom?” Javier cuts him off, his voice low and challenging, a crooked grin tugging at his lips.

….

You’re thrust into the middle of a storm of desire once you reach your bedroom. The chemistry between you and your powerful, masculine partners is undeniable, but the current between the two of them seems just as palpable.

Neither is willing to relinquish control, and their rivalry intensifies. You can see their determination to prove they can satisfy you more than the other flickering in their eyes. 

Javi’s intense gaze never leaves yours, even as Joel brushes his rough hands over your skin, possessive in his every move as he strips you naked. Your skin burns with desire as he touches you, and you can’t help but whimper at the intensity of his grip. Each noise you make incites a jealous reaction from the other, but somehow, they work as if choreographed. 

They encase you in their broad bodies and mark you with their desire with every kiss and touch as you hastily pull at their clothes and fumble with the buttons on their jeans until the three of you are naked and panting at the foot of the bed. It’s like you’re caught in a tornado made of two incredibly sexy men. 

Javier’s commanding nature contrasts with Joel’s jagged, primal passion, and you find yourself caught between them, overwhelmed by the force of their attention. You can’t lie, though; it’s not just their attitude that has you feeling drunk and weightless. 

When the blur of your frantic rush to undress each of them settles and you can focus, your jaw drops like a cartoon character. If your pussy could scream, the whole neighborhood would be able to hear it. Your head spins as you swivel back and forth, taking in their gorgeous bodies on either side of you. You ignore whatever ego trip they’re on. You couldn’t care less which one of them will win the trophy for manliest man tonight or whatever they’re fighting about. 

Instead, your brain feels like it’s trying to remember calculus or physics or whatever science will help you figure out how to accomplish your desperate need to have both of them in your mouth. Though, with the screaming desire to touch them immediately, you’re pretty sure you couldn’t even add 2+2 right now. 

You’re still ignoring their bantering. Cockdrunk at the sight of both of them, possibly drooling, probably dripping down your thighs from your wet cunt. Their voices are a smoky, bassy buzz above you as you sink to your knees on your own solo mission. 

You don’t give a shit if you can’t fit two dicks in your mouth at the same time. 

“Come here,” you demand them both to stand in front of you. You can feel Joel’s resistance to stand any closer to Javier; however, your horny brain has lost the usual patience you would hold for his internal torment. “Closer,” you whine as you rub your thighs together in a useless attempt to relieve the ache pulsing through your core and cousin your clit to twitch. 

Javier curls his hand around the back of your head, and your eyes flutter shut at the sensation. 

“You gonna keep her waiting?” Javier challenges Joel, eyes roving over the other man's body before he watches your eyes blink back open. 

Javi stands proud in front of you–as he should with a body like that. He displays no shame or hesitation as he pulls his hand back from your head to casually jerk his cock at the sight of you. Glistening with sweat like glitter as you perch on your knees. You didn’t know until this moment that watching a man fuck his own fist in front of your face could make you salivate like this, but you feel it pooling under your tongue and flooding your mouth. 

You figure you look like a pouty mess when you turn to stare up at Joel. He’s so tense. Fists clenched, jaw tight, chest heaving. You’re entranced by the shining precome leaking from his cock as it hangs heavily in front of you. 

“Closer,” you repeat. Your voice is low, almost hoarse, as if he’s already fucked your throat, but it’s only from tasting the fantasy of it. 

Finally, Joel steps closer, and you can get your mouth around him. You offer your hand to Javier, moaning deeply around Joel’s cock when Javier takes your hand in his and uses it to keep working himself the way he likes. 

You work feverishly to take Joel deeper and deeper, unbothered when you gag and tear up because of your impatience. Joel forgets about Javier entirely when you wrap your lips around him and suck in your cheeks. You’re rewarded with grunts and groans from Joel that stir up the arousal pooling at your entrance, but the addition of Javier’s voice has your mind slipping away into a warm pool of pure bliss. 

“Easy,” Joel’s hand steadies you as fat tears stream from the corners of your eyes. You whine in protest around his velvety length, and a throaty noise comes from Javier as he slows his hand and yours. 

“Fuck, she is a dream,” Javier muses. 

You’re caught between the two, their scents and taste blending into something that makes your head spin even more. 

“Damn right,” Joel growls out, and every nerve ending in your body is on fire, overwhelmed with a maddening combination of pleasure, anticipation, and the dizzying heat of being desired so intensely by both men.  

Joel’s cock works your jaw wide open as you take him in deeper. His hips begin to move, thrusting shallowly into the heat of your mouth. His hands find the back of your head, gripping it tightly to keep you in place. He’s controlled, but you can feel the twitch in his fingers and the low, guttural sounds he makes above you as he fights to keep from losing control. His possessiveness seeps through every thrust, every flex of his thighs, and shoots straight through you. 

Meanwhile, Javier keeps your other hand busy. His grip on your hand is firm but steady, and he occasionally slides your fingers down to cup his balls, his low growls vibrating in the back of his throat as he watches your lips stretch around Joel. His eyes are glued to your face, dark and ravenous, and when he catches you looking up at him, his smirk only deepens. He knows how this sight affects you—both of them towering over you, both of them needing you.

“Goddamn,” Javier mutters, voice thick with admiration and lust. “Look at you. So fucking pretty with your mouth full.” He leans down, his free hand brushing over your cheek, his thumb wiping away the tears streaming from your eyes as Joel thrusts in deep. 

“Bet she’d love to taste us both,” he taunts, his voice tainted with a knowing chuckle that sends a hot pulse straight to your core.

Joel lets out a gruff noise. It’s strained, tinged with irritation. He’s still wrestling with the primitive urge to be the one that makes you shatter. “You always gotta run your mouth?” Joel grumbles, but there’s a heat in his eyes, a flicker of something malevolent. “Why don’t you put it to use instead of talkin’?”

Javier’s grin widens, the taunt lighting up a challenge in his eyes. “What’s wrong? Scared she might like what I have to offer?” He doesn’t wait for Joel’s reply, instead leaning down to slide you off of Joel’s cock, marveling as a line of spit connects your lips to Joel’s tip before you turn. Javi gives you a soft, teasing kiss first before diving in. Then, he greedily laps at your tongue, humming at the taste of you and Joel. The sensation is dizzying. You’d proudly volunteer to be passed between the two of them for an eternity. 

Javier pulls back with a chuckle, Joel’s eyes never leave yours, dark and intense. He leans down, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice a low, gravelly whisper. “Tell him,” Joel demands, his breath hot on your skin. “Tell him how much you love having me in your mouth, how you crave it.”

Your brain is mush, your body vibrating with need, but you manage to whisper out, “I love it, Joel. Love how you feel in my mouth.” Your words make Joel grin with satisfaction, his eyes gleaming with triumph, but Javier’s eyes only sharpen.

“Yeah?” Javier’s voice is silky as he leans in closer. “Think you can handle a taste of both of us?” His thumb drags across your swollen lips, parting them slightly.

A sticky, thick desire drips through you at his words. You don’t miss Joel’s expression hardening, his possessiveness flaring. But instead of another angry retort, he surprises you, his voice dropping to a harsh, almost amused tone. “You want to show him how sweet this mouth is? Think you’re up for it?” His hand tightens around the back of your neck, and you gasp as he tilts your head back, exposing your throat. 

He leans in and nips at your neck, the sting sending a shiver down your spine. “Go on, then. Show him what you can do.”

Your heart pounds as you reposition yourself, turning your attention back to Javier. Fuck yeah, you’re gonna show him what you can do. Pride glows in your chest at Joel’s proclamation of your skill. 

The excitement in Javier’s eyes is unmistakable, and you give him a coy smile, leaning in to flick your tongue over the tip of his cock. He inhales sharply, his composure faltering just slightly, and you relish the small victory with a groan. You take him into your mouth slowly, savoring the feel of him as Joel watches closely, his heavy breaths grazing your skin. You have a dull ache in your jaw from Joel, but you’re determined and spurred on by Joel watching. 

You feel compelled to give it your all. You want to hear cool and collected Javi fall apart, and you want to make Joel proud. 

Javier’s hand finds the back of your head, his grip more gentle than Joel’s, guiding you as you begin to suck him off with the same fervor. His moans are low and rumbling, filled with pleasure and just a hint of smugness. “That’s it, sweetheart. Just like that,” he groans, his fingers tighten, digging in to the back of your neck and the base of your skull. “Such a good girl.”

Not wanting Joel to feel neglected, you wrap a hand around his length, pumping in rhythm with your movements on Javier. The room fills with the sounds of their pleasure—deep grunts and heavy breathing mingling with the wet, obscene noises of your mouth and hands working them both. The debauchery has you feeling exposed, like a live wire. You’re lost in the feeling of them, lost in the power you hold over these two dominant, competitive men while you’re on your knees. 

But it’s not long before their patience wears thin. Joel’s hand suddenly tugs you off Javier’s cock, pulling you up roughly until you’re standing again, his lips claim yours in a bruising, possessive kiss. You melt into it, moaning into his mouth, but Javier isn’t about to let Joel take the lead so easily.

“Shh, come here,” Javier says, his voice low and dangerous as he pulls you away from Joel. Did he just shush Joel? Was he shushing you? He captures your lips in his own heated kiss. His tongue sweeps into your mouth, and you can taste a mix of him and Joel, a combination you will never forget. 

His hands roam over your body, caressing and squeezing in ways that make you feel disconnected from your corporeal form. When he pulls away, he’s panting, his forehead pressed to yours. “I’m not done with you yet.”

Joel growls low in his throat, his hands sliding down to grip your hips tightly, spinning you back around to face him. His lips brush over your ear, his breath hot as he murmurs, “You’re mine, baby. Don’t forget it.” Then he kisses you again, his hands lifting you until you’re wrapped around his waist.

The three of you tumble onto the bed in a tangle of limbs and desperate skin-to-skin contact. Both men are eager to claim you, to mark you, to make you feel every bit of their desire. Your senses are overwhelmed—hands gripping your skin, mouths leaving hot trails along your body, their hard cocks jabbing you and grinding against you, the scent of sweat, sex, and testosterone thick in the air. 

There's no clear rhythm, no clear plan, just a frenzy, each of them vying to make their presence last on your skin. A silent battle unfolds between them. You can’t tell who’s winning between the two of them, but it doesn’t matter because you already know they’re both yours. 

Unfortunately, the uneasy cooperation doesn't last long. 

Joel’s eyes flash with irritation as he feels Javier’s hand invading his territory, and he shoves against him. “Quit gettin’ in my way,” he snaps, his voice a low rumble of frustration. 

Javier laughs darkly, unbothered. “Or what?” 

The words stoke the fire simmering in Joel's veins. They’re both so stubborn, so intent on proving their point, that the air around you vibrates with their clashing wills.

Your view, as you lay on your back, sticking to the sheets on the bed, is exquisite. You watch the jealousy start to boil over. The heat between the two of them is intoxicating. Smoldering Javier and his proclivity for control versus rough and unrefined Joel. Their bodies are slick with sweat, glistening in the low light, and they move with an intensity that makes your pulse race. 

You watch, breathless, as the tension builds, choking all three of you. It’s like the room is on fire, alarms blaring in their eyes, but they’re gonna figure this out and fuck you even if the smoke kills all three of you. 

Their voices raise as they vie for power. Both men determined to out man the other as if you weren’t already here for both of them. Your eyes are glued to the situation as Javier eggs Joel on. The masculine display of dominance and virility is a consuming scene. You’d watch them tousle, sweating, breathy, and snapping at each other in their deep, smoky voices over and over. If your hell is a time-loop, you hope this is the moment it begins. 

Your jaw drops when you see Javier’s hand shoot out, “You think you’re in control,” Javier rasps as his fingers wrap around Joel’s cock with an abrasive, punishing grip, “You think you’ve got a big dick so you can swing it around and what? Scare me off? Nah, that’d be pathetic.” 

A low primal noise rumbles in Joel’s chest, and there’s a flash of conflict in his deep brown eyes–something more profound than anger. His hips push forward despite the insult, his body betraying him before he stiffens. Rigid like a statue. You’re screaming internally. This is better than the fantasy threesome you described to Maria at girls’ night. This is better than you could’ve imagined with a decade of free time. 

You could bite right through your lip with the intensity of the visual unfolding. Arousal stirs, increasing in velocity like a whirlpool. It weighs hot and sticky like molasses churning in your stomach at the sight of their ferocity. The energy between them is entirely too much to handle. It’s a fight, a shootout between your two cowboys, but there’s something undeniably erotic about the sparks and magnetism beneath their ire. 

Joel is still sinking into his internal conflict, not just from the rough grip of Javier’s hand but from the sudden jolt of pleasure that twists wickedly in his gut. Warring with his own sense of identity, Joel’s jaw clenches, and for a moment, he’s not just fighting Javier–he’s wrestling with something else. Something hidden in the dark now has a blinding spotlight shining directly in the eyes. 

Javier’s touch is searing, giving Joel the intrusive thought that he’ll be able to see marks on his own cock tomorrow. The contact is like a riptide, sucking Joel into himself. Shooting pleasure up his spine, confusing and infuriating him. It’s raw, it’s real, and it feels good–too good. Why the hell does it feel good? Joel’s chest tightens, and shame gnaws at him, a debilitating concoction with the undeniable carnal thrill overriding his logic. 

Joel’s thoughts race. This shouldn’t turn him on. It can’t turn him on. But, fuck, it sure does. He can’t stop the groan that pours from his lips as that thought solidifies in his mind. His hips twitch, jerking into Javier’s palm, despite the other voice in his head screaming that this isn’t who he is. 

Javier, the observant bastard, doesn’t drop his gaze from Joel’s. He sees how time stops for Joel. He sees how the man in his grasp is astral projecting into a thousand arguments with himself. But Javier is impatient and not immune to the noise that came from Joel when he grabbed his throbbing cock. 

He squeezes harder, and Joel’s resistance is razor-thin. He succumbs to the desire like it’s quicksand and he’s waist-deep already. He can shake off the disgust and grapple with the parts he can’t understand another time–right now, he can’t push away from the sharp tug in his gut that screams for more. 

You see it. When Joel’s eyes flash, something ripples throughout the air in your bedroom. Something tender is screaming like a newborn behind the walls he projects. 

The tension in the room discharges, striking all of you like lightning. You desperately want to shout at the two of them, locked in the homoerotic trance in front of you, about how fucking hot they are. At this point, you swear a warm breeze, just a gust of air, would be enough to make you come at the sight of them. But you’re transfixed, and when something shifts within Joel–you decide not to interrupt. Hell, you don’t even want to blink. 

The earth starts to rotate again, and a wicked smirk tugs at Joel’s lips. “Show me then,” he taunts, voice gravelly and low, “show me who’s in control.” 

The sight of them, all masculine dominance and begrudging lust, makes your heart pound. Watching them fight for power for you is more tantalizing than you ever imagined.

Joel’s challenge hangs in the air like a match struck in a room filled with gasoline, and the pressure in their gaze is so heavy you worry the bedframe beneath you will snap. 

Javi's eyes narrow, his smirk widening into something wretched. His grip tightens around Joel's cock, twisting slightly as if testing his limits. "Careful what you wish for," Javier purrs, his voice saturated with a dark promise. "You might just find you enjoy it too much."

“Oh, shit,” you whisper as your eyes dart between Joel’s fierce, defiant gaze and Javier’s calculated confidence. 

There’s a battle raging, but it’s not just for dominance—it’s for something deeper.

Joel’s chest heaves. You can see him fighting the urge to pull away, to shut down, or to lash out, to assert himself in the most brutal way possible. 

But the hungry look in Javier’s eyes challenges him, dares him, Javier isn’t afraid of Joel, and he definitely isn’t going to back off. Joel’s body betrays him once more. He leans into Javier’s touch, his hips giving a barely perceptible thrust forward, a silent admission. He’s not backing down.

Javier's expression softens into something dangerous, his thumb brushing over the head of Joel's cock with a slow, deliberate stroke that pulls a throaty noise from Joel. "You see that?" Javi says, his voice a husky whisper, as he watches your expression while his hand continues twisting and tugging at Joel’s cock. "He likes a little fight, doesn't he?"

You give Javi a lazy nod with glassy, heavy-lidded eyes, as you watch the scene unfolding. 

Joel grabs Javier by the back of the neck, yanking him close. “You think you’ve got me figured out?” he snarls, his breath hot against Javier’s face. Their faces are so close. You are absolutely shrieking internally; if you could plug your consciousness into a speaker, it would be deafening. You’re desperately darting between their eyes, waiting for one of them to drop their gaze to the other’s lips. 

When Javier cups Joel’s scruffy jaw in his hand, you figure you could die happy in this moment, but time hasn’t stopped. The air is so thick you could build a foundation out of it. It’s unbearable. Slow motion. You see the briefest glimmer of a genuine, earnest smile on Javier’s face before his mouth hovers over Joel's ear with a final challenge. “Tell me to stop.” 

Javi makes the move, only soft for a millisecond when his lips brush against Joel’s, and then he’s fervently kissing your man in an urgent and hungry kiss. You can’t control the gasping, “Oh my god,” that comes out of your mouth. You’re glued to the vision of them as their bodies press together, and Joel’s hand slides down to grab Javier’s cock boldly. You wish you had a camera, though it’s likely seared deeply into your long-term memory immediately. 

The kiss is electric, charged with an anger and passion that ignites something primal in the room. Your heart pounds as you watch them, their mutual challenge giving way to unfiltered desire. They break apart, their breaths ragged and eyes hazy with lust, and the intensity of their interaction leaves you breathless. The ache between your legs is unbearable, painful.

“Jesus,” you gasp, unable to hold back any longer, “you two look so fucking good like that,” you pant, “but please,” your voice is hoarse and distant, “I need one of you to fuck me.” 

Your words break the spell, and both men’s eyes snap to you, their expressions fierce. Javier’s grip loosens on Joel, and Joel, in turn, shoves him away, just enough to reclaim some space, some control. But it’s clear now—there’s a shift in the air. 

Joel’s eyes are on you, dark and smoldering, and he moves in like a predator cornering its prey. “Tell us how bad you need it.”

Before you can answer, Javier is beside you, his lips brushing against your ear. “Tell us what you want,” he whispers, his hand sliding down your belly to dip between your legs, his fingers finding you soaked, swollen, and needy. 

You let out a shaky breath, your head falling back against the pillow as the two of them close in on you, their bodies hot and demanding. “I want both of you,” you manage to breathe out, your voice cracks with need. “I need both of you.” 

Joel’s lips curl into a knowing grin as he positions himself on the other side of you, his mouth stealing the air from your lungs in a possessive kiss. Javier’s mouth finds your neck, his teeth grazing your skin, his hand working you with expert precision, pulling sounds from your throat that you didn’t know you could make.

They devour you, their movements synchronized and intense. Javier’s lips travel lower, teasing your breasts, his tongue flicking over your nipple with a slow, torturous rhythm. You arch into them, caught between their bodies, desperate and lost in the whirlwind of sensation.

When Joel finally pulls away, his breath is ragged, and his eyes are heavy with lust. “You ready, baby?” he murmurs, his hand trailing down to replace Javier’s, no longer bothered when their fingers brush. He swallows, feeling just how wet you are for them. “We’re gonna make you beg for it.”

Javier’s voice hums against your skin. “And you’re going to love every second of it,” he adds, as Joel’s fingers curl into you with just the right pressure, making you whimper.

You nod, breathless, your body trembling with anticipation. “Please,” you whisper, “I need you both. Now.” They don’t make you say it again. 

Joel is on top of you first, of course, following through on his promise to make you beg. He looms above you, a dark shadow of power and hunger, his eyes devouring every inch of your exposed skin. One strong arm holds his weight above you while the other grips the base of his cock, positioning it just close enough to tease, to torment. 

You can feel the heat radiating off him, so close yet so agonizingly far from where you desperately want him. He slides the head of his cock over your slick entrance, back up to circle your throbbing clit, again and again. His movements are slow, deliberate, every touch designed to drive you insane. Despite his roughness, Joel moves with wicked precision, knowing exactly how to make you tremble and whimper.

Joel always knows how to drive you to the brink, and when to back off to leave you wanting more. Javier keeps you distracted, though—intentionally, you realize—with his hands all over you, groping and squeezing like he’s trying to imprint the feel of your body in his mind. His mouth is everywhere, hot and demanding, alternating between deep, open-mouthed kisses and sharp, stinging nips that make you gasp. Together, they overwhelm you completely. It’s a tandem assault that leaves you breathless, your body arching and twisting beneath them, craving more.

You try to move, to push your hips up toward Joel, needing him inside you already. But he’s not ready to give in just yet. His broad palm presses flat against your lower belly, pinning you in place. His voice, deep and authoritative, carries a sinister promise. “Not yet.”

A frustrated whine escapes your lips. Joel knows how to unravel you, piece by piece, until you’re nothing but a pleading mess beneath him, desperate for him to finally take you. Just when you’re about to give in and really beg, Joel sinks his cock into you in one slow, deliberate stroke, filling you to the hilt. 

Your back arches off the bed, a broken moan slipping from your lips as Javi sinks his teeth into the delicate skin below your jaw. The sting sends a sharp jolt of pleasure through you, and you clench tight around Joel in response.

For Joel, that moment when he’s buried deep inside you is nothing short of a revelation. He feels your heat, and the way your walls flutter around him, and it’s like everything else fades away. He’s exactly where he’s meant to be.

Joel holds you on the edge, like your own personal pleasure demon, the keeper of your torment and ecstasy. Your hips try to grind against him, but he holds you still, his grip on your hips firm. 

Joel drags his cock almost painfully slowly in and out of you, his movements unhurried, savoring the sight of you writhing beneath him. Your breath comes in ragged gasps, your eyes half-lidded as he increases his speed just slightly, a lazy rhythm that still drives you wild.

When Javier’s hand slips between your bodies, rubbing circles over your clit, it’s almost too much. Your orgasm slams into you, a tidal wave that leaves you shuddering and gasping for breath, your body writhing beneath them both. 

But even in your haze, you crave more. After catching your breath, you tell Joel what you want and he nods, pulling out with a groan and shifting off of you. 

You reposition, straddling Javier, and grinning as you plan to tease him now. 

With just the head of his cock inside of you, you circle your hips and arch as if you’re going to take him deep before circling again and repeating your tease. But when he rewards you with a frustrated noise, you don’t waste anymore time. You slip Javier’s cock deeper into your still recovering cunt. 

You’re once again determined to put on a show for Javier, but moreso for Joel. You ride Javi with everything you have left, bouncing energetically and gasping when you slow down to grind against him for your own pleasure. 

The room fills with the rhythmic sound of skin against skin and your breathy moans, Javier’s groans mingling with your own as he grips your hips tightly, guiding you up and down his length.

Joel watches intently as you ride Javier. His own hand is on his cock, stroking slowly, his eyes dark with lust. “Look at you,” he murmurs, before leaning in close so his breath tickles your ear. “So greedy, takin’ him like that. Bet you could take us both at the same time, huh? Stuffed full of both our cocks?”

Javier chuckles beneath you, smiling, even as his breath comes out in harsh pants. “I think she’d like that,” he adds, his voice rough. “She’s already so tight around me. Imagine how she’d feel with both of us stretching her out.”

The idea sends a shiver through you, and you can’t help but moan at the thought. Your movements on Javier’s cock become more frantic, more desperate. Joel’s words, Javier’s teasing—it’s all too much, and not enough.

Joel grins, clearly pleased with your reaction. His hand reaches out to cup one of your breasts, squeezing it firmly before his thumb and forefinger close around your nipple, twisting just enough to make you gasp. “Oh, you like that idea, don’t you? You wanna take us both next time?”

Your mind is a fog of pleasure, and you can barely form a coherent thought, much less a response. 

Next time. 

But you nod, a whimper escaping your lips as you bounce harder on Javier’s cock, desperate to chase that high again.

Javier’s grip on your hips tightens, his thrusts becoming erratic as he watches you unravel above him. “Fuck, she’s close again,” he mutters, his eyes flicking to Joel. “You gonna let her come?”

Joel’s mischevous grin widens. “Oh, I think she’s earned it this time.” He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear. “Come for us, baby. Show us how much you want it.”

His words are all you need. Your body tenses, and your orgasm hits you like a freight train. You cry out, your walls clenching tight around Javier as waves of pleasure ripple through you. It’s all too much, your body trembling with the intensity of it all.

But your insatiable men aren’t done. They exchange a heated glance, an unspoken understanding passing between them. 

“I think it’s time we really see what she can handle,” Joel murmurs, pulling you off of Javier and repositioning you on all fours on the bed. His hands guide your hips back toward him, his thick cock pressing against your slick entrance.

“Look at you,” Javi quips at Joel, “sharing so nicely.”

You’re too far gone to see how Joel responds. 

Javier moves in front of you, his cock hard and glistening with your slick as he grips your chin, guiding your lips to his length. “Open up for me,” he purrs, his voice low and full of desire.

You do as he says, your lips parting, and tongue sticking out to take him in. The taste of yourself on his cock makes you moan, and you feel Joel’s hands tighten on your hips as he pushes into you from behind, filling you once more. The sensation of being taken from both ends sends your mind spiraling. You’re stretched and stuffed, caught between them, every nerve alive with the sensation.

Joel’s thrusts are slow and deep, savoring the way you clench around him. His voice is a low growl, filled with dark amusement. “Takin’ both of us so well. So good for us, aren’t you?”

Javi echoes him, his voice more breathless as you work your mouth along his length. “Yeah, that’s it. Fuck, you’re perfect like this. Can’t get enough of you.”

They flirt with each other as they use you, teasing, taunting. “Bet she could handle both our cocks inside her next time,” Joel says, his voice heavy with lust. “Fill her up so good she won’t be able to walk.”

Javi grins, his hand tangling in your hair, guiding you to take him deeper. “Oh, I think she’d love that,” he agrees. “She’s a greedy little thing, isn’t she? Always eager for more.”

Their words, their praise, the way they talk about you as if you’re their shared prize—it sends a fresh wave of arousal through you. Your body rocks back and forth between them, caught in their rhythm, your moans muffled and garbled around Javier’s cock.

Joel’s thrusts grow rougher, more demanding, his control slipping. His fingers dig into your hips, pulling you back onto his cock with each powerful thrust. “Fuck,” he grunts.

Javier’s hips buck forward, pushing deeper into your throat. “Keep going,” he groans. “You can take it.”

Your body trembles, overwhelmed by the sensations, but you push through, driven by their praise and the sheer intensity of it all. You can feel another orgasm building, and Joel seems to sense it too. “Come on, baby,” he urges. “Come for us again. Show us how much you love being filled by both of us.”

His words tip you over the edge, and you come undone. Your walls clench around Joel as you shudder with the force of your climax, the intensity of being so out of control between them sending shockwaves through your body. Your muffled cries vibrate around Javier’s cock, making him groan loudly above you.

“Fuck, that’s it,” Javier growls, his hand tightening in your hair. His hips jerk forward, pushing deeper into your mouth, and you feel the burst of his release spilling over your tongue. “You got it, sweetheart, just like that.”

You do as he says, swallowing around him, and the sensation sends another shiver through Javier. His cock twitches in your mouth, his breaths ragged as he slowly pulls out. His eyes are dark and intense as he watches you, lips glistening with his release. Without hesitation, he cups your face, leaning down to kiss you deeply, his tongue tasting his own come on your lips. The kiss is hot and possessive, and you moan into it, the taste of him mingling with the heat still burning through your veins.

Behind you, Joel doesn’t relent. His thrusts grow more erratic, each one rougher and more desperate than the last. He grips your hips with bruising force, pounding into you with a single-minded focus. “That’s good, baby,” he rasps against the back of your neck, his voice barely more than a growl. “So good like this. Stuffed full and takin’ everything we give you.”

Javier breaks the kiss, smirking as he watches the way you jolt beneath Joel’s punishing rhythm. “She’s something special, isn’t she?” he teases, brushing a thumb over your swollen lips. “Lucky she wanted to share, really.”

Joel’s gaze lifts to meet Javier’s, a wicked grin tugging at his lips. “Damn right.” He thrusts harder, his pace relentless now, chasing his own release. “Gonna fill you up now. You ready?”

Your only response is a breathless moan, your body still trembling from the intensity of your orgasm. Joel’s rhythm grows frantic, his hips slamming into yours as he buries himself as deep as he can go, his breath hot and ragged against your skin. With a guttural groan, he comes inside you, his cock pulsing as he spills deep within you.

The feeling of his hot release filling you up sends a final shiver through your body, and you sag between them, completely spent. Joel slows, easing you through the last waves of pleasure before he finally pulls out, his breath still heavy.

Both men move quickly to support you, guiding you gently onto the bed, your body limp and blissed-out between them. Javier strokes your cheek, his eyes softening as he looks at you. “You did so well, sweetheart,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “Better than we ever imagined.”

Joel, still catching his breath, chuckles low in his chest. “Think she deserves a reward next time,” he says, his hand coming up to brush the damp hair away from your face. “Maybe we’ll see just how much she can handle.”

A soft, tired smile tugs at your lips, your body still thrumming with the aftershocks of pleasure. You’re too exhausted to respond, but the thought of next time sends a warm flutter through your chest.

The weight of both their bodies beside you is comforting, grounding, and as you start to drift off into a contented haze, you feel their arms wrap around you. It’s a feeling of warmth and safety that you hadn’t realized you needed, and you hope, somewhere in the back of your mind, that this isn’t the last time you find yourself tangled between them.

With your eyes fluttering closed, you let out a soft sigh, content and utterly satisfied. The last thing you hear before sleep takes you is the low rumble of their voices, murmuring something you can’t quite make out but filled with a promise of more to come.

Please let me know if you enjoyed or if you hated it or if you have thots bc i wanna hear 'em

dividers by @cyberangel-graphics

tags for those who want 'em all and those who said joel x javi x reader yes pls: @gothcsz @auteurdelabre @lovely-vamp-princess @magneticecstasy @adoreyouusugar

@94namkooksworld

@swankyorange @mermaidgirl30 @itwasntimethatdidit40

@thundermartini - ty I forgot to check if the tags worked!! 💗

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omfg i wrote a post talking about “i need—“ and instead of putting pedro pascal i wrote pablo escobar?? wtf is wrong with my melatonin pills help

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these tumblr fics be having me wag my tail and shii like

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