Chapter Text
It’s taken a year but you finally feel comfortable after accepting the transfer to Colombia. You knew it was the right move career-wise but having to build respect from the ground up again in a new embassy wasn’t exactly enticing. But you sucked it up, took the chance and were finally reaping the rewards.
Trying to figure out office politics whilst sweltering in the Colombian heat was a struggle at first. It took a while to get a lot of the men to stop using pet names instead of your actual one, but you set them straight. And you also continued to adjust to life outside of work, learning the city and its customs. While you thought you had a grasp on Spanish, living in a Spanish-speaking country definitely showed you that you had so much more to learn. But slowly you improved and your self-esteem grew as you got a handle on things.
While there were plenty of men you had to assert dominance over to get them to take you seriously, you had lucked out with your partner Ben Williams who instantly took to you. You complement each other’s working styles; he’s always happy to do the paperwork while you are planning the next project. From the first week of working with him you established that you’ll only call him Williams, never Ben. You had a dog that was called Ben and you’d expressed that you’d rather not think of your dead dog every time you talked to him. He had no objection and you’ve remained friends and productive partners ever since.
You spend your days planning galas, drafting press releases, scheduling meetings, and whatever else Ambassador Noonan needs to have done. Not to be underestimated, you take it upon yourself to make contacts in the embassy’s different departments, CIA, FBI, DEA, etc., so as to establish yourself as the access point to Noonan. You’ve earned the respect of people, despite still feeling ogled by the odd mustachioed lothario in the halls, and are confidently able to do your job. Williams prefers to be in the office as much as possible, always choosing the boring files over human interaction. Low security work, like mailing, occasionally gets passed onto Nicole, Noonan’s secretary. Her daily jobs range from keeping the coffee fresh, the phones answered, and guests entertained as they wait for meetings, so she likes having the extra tasks once in a while. You’ve morphed into a great team and functional office.
The only part of your old life you miss is your friends. Throwing yourself into work was the best career decision, but it definitely makes you regret not going out more when you’re alone in your apartment on a weekend. Feeling particularly lonely, it seems like fate one night when you come home and find a woman picking up her fallen groceries in your building’s hallway. You rush over to her and help gather them off the floor as she thanks you avidly.
Smiling, you look over trying to recognize her. When your memory fails, you introduce yourself and ask, “Hey. I know this building is mostly government housing but I don’t think I’ve met you before. Do you work at the embassy?”
She returns your smile and says, “I’m Connie. And no, actually I’m a nurse. But my husband is DEA.” She motions to the stairwell. “Do you mind helping me bring these into my place?”
You follow her upstairs and through a door to plop the food on her counter. Looking around, the apartment is much cozier than yours, a lot more effort was certainly put into making a house a ‘home’. As you help her organize, you make pleasant small talk and exchange some laughs. It’s been 15 minutes and you already feel so comfortable with her. Excited at the thought of a new friend you clumsily blurt out, “Hey Connie, this may be weird but…” you shuffle your feet, “It’s a real boys club at the embassy. I’m really missing having female friends and since you live right upstairs…do you think we could give friendship a trial run?”
She laughs sweetly, “I think anyone who drops to help someone pick up their groceries would be a good candidate for a friend. How about this, come by around 7 and we can have dinner. I also could use more friends.” Flashing her a genuine smile, you promise you won’t return empty-handed as you head for the door. “Whatever you bring, I hope it’s liquid,” she yells as you head down the stairs. You hear the hint loud and clear.
A few hours and one trip to the store later, you’re back at Connie’s door, this time holding a bottle of wine and a bottle of tequila. You wanted to be prepared and had panicked at the store trying to guess what she likes, so you bought both. She excitedly welcomes you in and shoos you to her set dinner table. It’s a simple meal but you’re ecstatic as it’s the first home-cooked one you’ve had in a while.
The conversation is effortless, both eagerly sharing stories, observations about life in Colombia, and annoyance at how that one neighbor always seems to take his trash out at 2am, clanging everything in his vicinity. You profusely thank her for the meal as she stands to get some glasses for dessert. “Oh stop, it's nothing really,” she says, “You brought the good stuff.”
While she loves both your presents, she chooses the wine because you do both have work in the morning. Ushering you over to the couch, she turns on the radio for some background noise. It’s easy to forget that you and Connie just met with how relaxed you are in her living room, spreading out on her furniture. You’re both too busy laughing to hear when the two men enter.
“Hey Con,” says the blonde one. “Sorry I’m late. It's good to see you found company.” He nods to you and you raise your glass in recognition. He’s tall and thin, dressed in a suit a bit too big for him. The combination of the styled blonde hair on his head and the equally blonde moustache somehow suited him and you mentally give Connie kudos for bagging him.
Connie stands up to greet him and turns to introduce you, “She helped me when I dropped my groceries earlier. She works at the embassy with you guys.” When she motions to the other man in the room your stomach drops. Who is that?
Before you stands, maybe, one of the most beautiful men you’ve ever seen. Dark hair, dark eyes, thick moustache, muscular build, leather jacket, tight jeans, and a button-up shirt that’s open just a tad too much; maybe it’s the booze but you are into it. Add all that to the grumpy look on his face and you’ve already fallen in love. But there’s something about him that seems oddly familiar and when you can’t come up with why you chock it up to your three glasses of wine. Suddenly you wish you had met Connie sooner.
“Great! I’m Steve Murphy, Connie’s husband,” he says shaking your hand, “Though you probably already got that. Where do you work at the embassy?”
“I’m basically Ambassador Noonan’s chief of staff. She definitely at least believes the work she’s doing is presidential,” you joke, earning a chuckle from both men,
“Yeah, I saw Connie as I was getting in my apartment downstairs, couldn’t not help.” You flash a smile her way and she raises her glass in thanks.
“Oh you live downstairs?” Steve asks. “You must be neighbors with Javi.” He slaps his arm down on the man beside him and nudges him towards you.
“Hey, I’m Javier Peña,” he says slightly annoyed, definitely not expecting to meet anyone new tonight. He’s cordial nonetheless and shakes your hand, taking care to look you up and down before he releases. OH. Suddenly you can place him. You’ve seen him in the halls so many times, and at Nicole’s desk for that matter, shamelessly flirting and ogling the bodies of the women in the building. You recall one time in particular when he caught your eye after you had watched him turn around to stare at someone’s ass. The big grin on his face, the sly wink he gave as he then checked you out, it all made you cringe. But here in Connie’s living room under the influence, you let it slide. He’s one of the most attractive men you’ve ever met, but he’s sure not the most subtle.
You give him your full name and add, “I brought wine and tequila if you boys want to join.” Steve leaves to grab two glasses for him and his partner but returns with whiskey instead of what you brought.
The conversation flows between the Murphys and you. Javi, deciding to be more focused on his drink, barely contributes. You can’t tell if he’s purposely not listening or simply absorbed in thought. Every so often you sneak a glance over to him, he looks so handsome doing nothing.
After a rather boisterous argument about whether Han shot first, the group lulls into a cheery silence. Steve asks Javi a question, trying to engage him, but he doesn’t hear him, stuck in his head while he stares into his glass. Steve gives up but you’re feeling brash.
“Any thoughts, comments, concerns? Anything to add?” you ask Javi sarcastically a little too loudly, shaking him from his trance. You wonder why he even bothered to stay if he was just going to sit in the corner and drink whiskey. Steve snorts at your boldness and Javi shoots him a scornful look.
“I have somewhere to be,” he stands abruptly. “Thanks Connie, Steve,...” He says your name with a little annoyed edge that wasn’t in his voice for the other two. The bastard.
As their front door shuts, you glance at the clock, midnight. “Oh crap,” you exclaim, “I’ve overstayed my welcome. I’m so sorry, Connie. You told me you had work in the morning and I’ve stayed until midnight.”
“It's ok, really,” she reassures, “I had a bunch of fun. We should do this again.”
“Yeah,” Steve adds, “You’re definitely more cheerful than our usual guests.” He gestures towards the door, referencing the last person who walked through it. “Don’t judge him too hard, though. It was a long day.”
“Alright, I’ll give him a pass,” you say as you stand to leave. “I’d love to hang out anytime. I’m 1C downstairs if you need anything or want company.”
“You’ll be hearing from me very soon,” Connie promises. “Thanks for tonight.” You thank her yet again and head out the door, hearing it close behind you.
Coming down the stairs you smirk when you find Javier in the hall pressed against the wall smoking a cigarette, looking far more handsome than necessary. “I thought you had pressing things to attend to,” you taunt, still feeling daring.
“I do,” he huffs back, “I’m leaving now.”
“Whatever, Peña,” you chide, “You’re just trying to see which door is mine.” You jokingly scrunch up your nose, inducing a playful scoff from him.
“So what if I am?” he responds, suddenly interested in the conversation.
“I can guess which one is yours,” you say, continuing to torture him, “Now that I can put the noises at 2am to a face.” His face drains of color as you laugh. “Don’t worry, I’m not judging you. But be considerate of your neighbors.” Flashing him a drunken smile you cross the hall to unlock your door. “I’d invite you in but I’m assuming your plans will be more interesting.”
A slow smile creeps on his face, brown eyes sparkling in the dim hall lights. God, he’s pretty. “Another time,” he says.
“Another time,” you repeat. Holding his gaze until the last moment, you shut the door.
~~
As predicted, you and Connie become fast friends. You have dinner at her house at least one night a week, sometimes with Steve, sometimes with Steve and Javi, but a lot of the time it’s just you two. Topics range from things as trivial as the sweltering heat to more serious things like her growing frustration at being childless in a foreign country with a husband who could die at any moment. The light talks keep you entertained but the heavy ones knit you closer together. However, when the boys are around, you focus on happy things to distract them from the horrors of their days. It’s easy for Steve to switch off the pain over dinner, less so for Javier.
You won’t dare admit it out loud but there’s something about Javier that you find fascinating. While he’s friendly enough, he doesn’t find the need to be active in conversations, preferring to nod or scowl when necessary. Perpetually grumpy, sometimes it seems like it hurts him to enjoy himself for longer than a minute. Though you’ve secretly made it your mission to give him more reasons to smile. When the Murphys rope you both into going out to the bar, he’s barely there, only scanning for a lonely lady to take home. And there are plenty that indulge him once they get a look at his figure and feel the intensity behind his brown eyes. A part of you wants to knock on his door at 2am just to see what all the fuss is about. But the rational side of you knows he wouldn’t even open the door in the first place.
Work slowly grows more difficult as the violence increases in the city. The ambassador has a lot more demands to meet, which means you and Williams have twice the amount. Setting and sticking to a clear schedule, the office is functioning but both of your sanities are thin ice. As long as everything falls into place, everything will get done…which is why those fucks in the CIA really need to turn their data over by the end of day or you swear to god…
Before you mentally blow your gasket, a light knock on the office door catches your attention. Hernán, your go-to CIA contact, stands before you with a stack of papers in his hands. He smiles sheepishly knowing that he’s cutting it very close to your deadline. “Hey,” he says, handing over the documents, “I’ve got the data for you.”
“Thanks. I don’t have to kill you now,” you reply. He laughs thinking you’re joking, but you’re actually a little disappointed, killing him would allow you to get out a lot of aggression right now.
“Well, I think I can make up for that,” he offers, piquing your interest.
Williams spins around in his chair to join the conversation. “Oh?”
“It’s my birthday,” Hernán says, waving off your birthday wishes when you cut him off, “And I’m having a party of sorts. It would be cool to have you guys come.”
“Us?” you respond, genuinely confused. While you like Hernán enough, you didn’t realize he thought of you as a party-invite level friend.
“Yeah, sometimes it’s fun to get out of the office,” he suggests, eagerly looking back and forth between you and Williams. “It’ll just be a bunch of the CIA guys and maybe Nicole and her friends.” You doubt very much that Nicole and the other secretaries will show but could you really spend a whole night with CIA guys?
Pondering for a minute, you decide what’s the harm in it and accept. Williams does so too, thinking it won’t be unbearable if you’re there. Excitedly, Hernán writes down the address of the bar on a scratch piece of paper and gives you the estimated time of arrival before scurrying back out the office.
“He must be scraping the barrel inviting us,” Williams jokes as he turns back to his work. He’s right but you’re not fazed. A party, even a CIA party, would be a great place to blow off some steam after all the recent stress.
You call Connie at home to invite her too; she deserves a night out dancing and Steve can deal with it. She admits she can’t commit until talking to her husband, but that she’s really interested. You assure her that there is no pressure to join and give her the address just in case Steve decides to live a little. Suddenly excited for your evening, you pack up your things to head home and change.
You catch a ride to the bar with Williams. This is the first party you’ve been invited to in a while and you’re thankful you won’t have to be sober enough to drive home. Williams is happy to play chauffeur as he thinks he’ll have an excuse to leave early.
“So I know it's Hernán from CIA’s birthday but who else do you think will be there?” he asks you.
“Oh...hmm. I know he invited the other CIA guys and Nicole.” You glance over to Williams to roll your eyes and he laughs. You both know Nicole will never come. “But besides that I’m sure it’ll be a mix from our embassy and the others in town. I think we were invited because we work with Nicole.”
Williams grunts in agreement, “We can never tell when they like us for us.” His obnoxious fake pout has you giggling. Williams is a great guy to work with and your friendship has blossomed naturally. Conversations with him are always so easy. You’re constantly thankful that he’s the one you got stuck with; you might not have made it this long in Colombia without him.
“So what’s your plan for tonight?” he asks.
“Oh I don’t know. I want to have fun but I’m not trying to make any new friends. So get drunk, mingle, and then taxi home. I know you’ll last, what? 2, 3 hours?”
He flashes you a huge smile, “Aww you know I’m boring and will totally bail.”
“Shut up,” you tease as you playfully smack his arm. “I am happy you drove though. I would not trust myself driving even tipsy on these roads.”
He pulls over to park when you finally reach the bar. You exit the car and smooth your outfit over. Dressing for tonight proved tough because you wanted to look hot but not hot enough that any of the guys try something. After sifting through your options you settled on tight black jeans and a plunging white shirt, pairing it with more dramatic makeup than usual. It's nothing too revealing but you feel sexy. Williams, ever the bore, couldn’t be bothered to change and has the same loose brown suit on from earlier in the day.
When you enter the bar you hear a pack of people yell ‘ayyyyy’. Well I wonder who that is. Turning your head, you see the CIA pack come over to welcome you and Williams in.
“Happy Birthday, Hernán. Thanks for inviting us,” you say.
“Oh psssshhh. Don’t call me Hernán. I’m Alex.” He’s already quite sloshed. “Do you remember all the guys? I know we probably all just look like more suits to you, but I promise sometimes we are fun.”
Glancing over them you realize he’s right; you can’t pick out any of them. You recognize the faces, but you wouldn’t have even remembered they were CIA if it wasn’t mentioned already. You and Williams admit defeat, which amuses them greatly.
“Rad,” Hernán shouts, “Like I said I’m Alex Hernán, birthday boy extraordinaire.” He bows sloppily and one of the others has to push him back up. He braces the man to his right. “This is Grant. Richie. Richie Grant.”
You shake Richie’s hand and smile. He looks a bit older with grey streaks in his hair. He seems to be in charge of keeping Hernán alive, though thoroughly enjoying the current state of the birthday boy.
Hernán slaps the man to his right, who grabs his hand and squeezes hard in retaliation. “This is my boy, Peter. He’s alright.” He rubs Peter’s face mockingly. “Nah, he’s the best.”
Peter laughs and shakes your hand. He’s tall and slim but handsome enough and you can feel his grey eyes look you over briefly. You take note of how he lingers on your fingers.
“And over there,” Hernán gestures towards the bar, “Are Sam and Nathan. Sam is Intel and Nathan is in weapons.” Both men raise their glasses to you in acknowledgement.
“Well thanks, Alex,” you say. You gesture to Williams and he sarcastically waves as you re-introduce yourselves in case they’ve forgotten too. “We work in the ambassador’s office.”
“Awesome, great, wonderful, we’re all friends. Shots?” Hernán yells a bit too loudly, eager for his party to continue.
“Yeah might as well.” You accept and the pack heads to the bar.
You undeniably are a little tipsy by the time other people start rolling in. You and the boys have messed around, daring each other to do shots in between hilarious stories. You’re having fun when you turn and notice Williams glance down at his watch. Rolling your eyes, you stride over to him with mock annoyance. “Hey now, where’d my fun guy go?”
“I think it’s past my bedtime.” He jokes, faking a yawn.
“It's barely past ten, Williams! Jeez, when did you become a grandma?”
“I’ve been a grandma since before I met you,” he says flatly.
You cackle and slap his back. You pull out a chair and plop down next to him. Looking around the bar, you spot Connie in the crowd. Finally a woman. A sense of relief swells through you.
“Alright. well, I see Connie is here, so I am allowing you to go. Be free my grandma, go and knit to your heart’s content.”
Williams smiles as he rises to his feet, you don’t have to tell him twice. “Thank you so much, partner. Expect a homemade scarf knit by these brittle hands.” He scoots out the door as you cross to go meet Connie.
“Ah! You’re here!” you scream excitedly at her. “It’s been a total boys’ club!”
She smiles. “Yeah, I finally convinced Steve to come out at least for a bit. It’s Friday, you know?”
“Where is that man of yours?” you ask, looking around.
“He has come from the bar bearing gifts.” Steve chimes in, holding three shots.
Linking arms with Connie, you take each other’s shot like you’re on spring break. Steve downs his swiftly to avoid participating.
“So how are you doing?” Steve asks.
“I’m alright. First time I’ve kind of let loose in a while so I intend to get drunk,” you admit as he chuckles and grabs onto Connie’s waist.
You hear your name being screamed from the CIA pack again, “Come back!”
You make a face at Connie and she pushes you to go as she backs Steve to the dance floor.
“So what are we doing now?” you ask, rejoining the group.
They set up an elaborate card game that you can barely comprehend. Peter takes it upon himself to lean into your side and explain the rules every time you make a wrong move. You’re annoyed by his touch and lean a little further away each time he does it but he always finds his way back to you. He dares to rest his hand on your knee and you shake it off in surprise.
“Hey!” Connie calls your name as she approaches the table, “Need another drink?”
“Yes,” you reply quickly. You’re so relieved to have an opportunity to leave the table. “I’ll come with you.”
Crossing to the bar you suddenly realize how drunk you are. “Whoa fuck, Connie. I might need to take a break from drinking.” You laugh while you balance yourself against the wall, head spinning.
“You good?” She watches you curiously, the nurse inside emerging.
“Yeah. I’m just starting to get uncomfortable. They are good guys but at least one of them has started to make a move.” You grimace. “I work with them, you know? That’s not a road I want to go down.”
“Well, I think you’ll have more fun with me anyway,” she offers. “Come sit with me, Steve, and Javi for a while.”
“Javi? He came?” you scoff, genuinely surprised. “There isn’t an open vagina for him to fill tonight?”
Connie spits out her drink, unable to control her laughter. “I would have loved to see his reaction if you had said that in front of him.”
“Well, I am drunk tonight! Who knows what I’ll let out!”
You order another drink to nurse and follow Connie back to her table. Both DEA men are too in their conversation to welcome you. You glance around and find Peter watching you. Annoyed, you lean over to whisper in Connie’s ear. “Now he’s watching where I go. I’m going to have to be careful.”
“Who?” interjects Steve.
You turn to see both he and Javi looking at you, concerned. Obviously you spoke louder than intended.
“The CIA guys are starting to fawn over her,” Connie hiccups, “But she’s not sure if tonight is the night to start an office romance.”
You roll your eyes at Connie. “I just want to keep the CIA guys as friends. We work with them too often.”
Javi snuffs out his cigarette and folds his arms. “What makes you think they’re hitting on you?” he asks, a little too matter-of-factly for your liking.
You shoot Javi a dirty look. You don’t need him making you feel insecure tonight. For as much as you want to jump his bones, it’s really irritating when he gets under your skin.
Choosing to ignore his comment you turn to Connie. “Will you dance with me please? I can’t sit still anymore.”
She agrees and you both scurry down to the dance floor, silly and carefree, drunkenly bopping along to whatever music comes on.
“Ayyy,” A loud voice comes near.
The CIA pack has entered the dance floor. Hernán is too drunk, flailing his body erratically. Sam and Nathan shift nervously, neither of them can find the rhythm. You notice Richie and Peter are standing a little further back, talking fervently while occasionally gesturing towards you. Your stomach turns and you lose your energy. You try to play it off like you need something at the bar but Connie sees your face.
“What happened?” She grabs your shoulders so you’ll stop walking away and look at her.
Your emotions are high because of how much alcohol you’ve had and you’re fighting back tears. “These stupid guys. I see them discussing which one will have a go at me, like I’m just a body. I’m not their co-worker. I’m not a friend.” She rubs your shoulders while you let it out. “I know I’m overreacting but I’ve dealt with so many men like them. They decide they’re going to fuck me and then they don’t even do it right. It’s always the worst sex with the guys who feel entitled to your body just because they’re willing to fuck it.” You lean on the bar and rub your temple. “I’m just going to go, Connie. It’s been a good night. So fun to hang out with you but I am just going to get a taxi home and sleep.”
She gives you a pitying look and you squeeze her shoulder as you walk away, not giving her an opportunity to protest. You make a beeline for the front door and head out into the cool air, taking a deep breath to calm yourself, enjoying the open space. You head to the curb and wait for a taxi to come around.
A hand caresses your side and pulls you back into a body. You jolt forward and push away to see Peter cowering back. “Sorry, Sorry” he apologizes, “That was stupid...you couldn’t even see it was me.”
“Yeah” you answer nervously, trying to quell your shock, “What are you doing out here? Smoke break?” You avert your gaze back to the road. Maybe looking will bring a taxi sooner.
“Uh…not really. I saw you leave and I thought…” he trails off as he grabs your hand.
You look at him and give a limp half smile as you try to pull away. He grabs harder, refusing to let you go.
“Peter? What are you doing? Let go of my hand.”
“Hey, I know we barely know each other. But we had fun tonight right?” You can tell he’s drunk by his lidded eyes and slurred words.
You tug again to no avail. “Peter let go of my hand,” you say more sternly but he’s not listening.
“I think you’re really cool. And I think we should go to my place, yeah?” He tries to pull you down towards some parked cars, but you resist, planting your feet.
“Peter, let go of me now.” You’re about to use your full strength when Peter is pushed to the ground. Your eyes widen as you recognize the man before you. Javier?
You tilt your head in confusion as Javi pulls Peter to his feet. “Get the fuck out of here,” he barks, voice deadly deep.
Peter scrambles away quickly, stumbling over nothing in his haste. Javi watches him go all the way inside before turning to you. “You ok?”
“Uh yeah. Fuck. Yeah I guess so.” You put your hands on your hips to stabilize yourself. “Thanks.”
His eyes search you for marks or distress but he softens when he finds nothing. “Connie said she was worried about you leaving by yourself so I figured I’d try to catch up to you. Glad I did.”
“Yeah, me too.” You continue to stare at him, bewildered. “But you were going to catch up with me because?”
“To give you a ride home.” He jingles his keys. “Come on.”
On shaky legs, you cross the street to enter his car. Sinking into the passenger seat, you relax and exhale loudly, letting yourself settle into the leather. You’re not about to admit it out loud but you’re relieved someone was there to help you get away from Peter, even if it was Javi. The last thing you want is him pitying you or seeing you as weak.
“Glad to be away from the CIA bastards, huh?” He lights a cigarette as he starts to drive.
Your mind travels back to the bar, back to your annoyance. “Oh I am so done with their type. They think they can just bully people into bed and then they can’t even perform.”
“Perform?” He raises an eyebrow, his curiosity fully piqued.
“Yeah, these fucking self-entitled fucks talk about how much they are gonna fuck you up and then its like three thrusts and done.”
Javier snorts in surprise. You smile at him. It’s always nice to see his chiseled face with something other than a scowl.
“You laugh, but you’re a guy. I bet you you’ve cum during sex close to, if not, 100 percent of the time. I have not had that luxury.”
“Oh?” he eggs you on, curious as to how talkative you’ll get. He’s doing his best to watch you rant out of the corner of his eye while still focusing on the road.
“These guys, they just want to possess you. They don’t care if you get off. You can lead them to your clit and they’ll be like ‘ok thanks’ and ignore it the whole time.” The smile on his face grows. Javi is gobsmacked at your blunt honesty, maybe even impressed. “You know what I want, Peña?”
“What?”
“I want to be fucked.”
Rolling his eyes, he scoffs at you. “You can get fucked anytime you want.”
“No, Peña. I don’t want to have sex. I want to get fucked. I want my body to be adored, appreciated. I want my neck to be ravished with kisses. I want my ass and tits to be grabbed with force. I want a tongue to savor the taste of my body. Make me feel like they need me to live. I want someone to put in the effort to make me cum before they shove their disappointing dick into me. Or make an effort to find the spots to send me over the edge. God, I love sex, but I hate wasting my effort for a bad time.”
You cross your arms and turn to the window, finished with your tirade. If you weren’t so drunk, you’d have never been so bold to admit this to anyone, let alone someone you barely know.
Javi doesn’t say anything but when you turn to look at his face he’s harboring a small smile. You furrow your brow, annoyed that he doesn’t have a response but the car stops as you pull up in front of your shared apartment building and distracts you.
Still buzzed, you call out to him before you enter your apartment, “Hey Peña!” He turns to look at you. “Come in for a night cap. I don’t think I’m ready to sleep yet.” A genuine smile returns to his face as he leaves his doorway to enter yours.
Flicking on the lights, you welcome him into your average apartment. It’s not much, but it has enough space for three, maybe four people to hang comfortably. You’ve lived here over a year at this point and while you’ve decorated, it doesn’t feel as comfy as you’d like it. “What can I get you Peña?” you ask.
“Whiskey, if you have it,” he answers.
You pour two glasses and sit on the couch, sinking into its familiar comfort. He chooses to sit in the armchair, the furthest possible spot from you.
You notice his calculated distance. The bastard. He may be looking extra fine in that leather jacket he’s so fond of, but does he really think that you’ll try to force yourself on him? He keeps his distance when you’re sober, you know better than to think he’s interested. Nevertheless, it’s always fun to mess with him.
“What’s the matter Peña?” you tease, “Think I can’t control myself around you because I’m drunk?”
He chokes on his whiskey. You’ve only added to his confusion. “What?”
“I see you sitting as far away as possible. What? You think because I invite you in for a nightcap that I’m trying to sleep with you? Handsome and full of himself, of course.” Chuckling, you take a large gulp of your whiskey.
“Handsome?” A small grin peaks at his lips as he baits you.
This whole night, you’ve constantly surprised him. Actually, the whole time he’s known you, you’ve surprised him. The drunken confessions definitely made driving you home worth it.
“Oh please,” you spit at him, annoyed he’s being coy. “You know what you look like, with your gorgeous tight button-ups and those jeans. That face, you know.” You gesture your hand up and down him to accentuate your point, taking another sip of your whiskey.
“Gorgeous button…what?” he mutters. He raises his voice to counter your attacks, “Well, you know what you look like.”
“Exactly,” you smirk, “which is why I know you’re not going to sleep with me.”
“What?” His smile falls.
“I have eyes, Javi. And ears, for that matter. I know I’m not your type.” You hang your head with a sad smile and finish your whiskey. You close your eyes and lean back into the couch.
Barely above a whisper, Javi breathes out “I don’t know why you’d think that.”
Your eyes shoot open with a burst of energy. Springing to your record collection, you flip through until you pluck one from the pack and secure it on the player. As the upbeat music fills the apartment, your body starts to sway.
“Up, Peña,” you say, pulling him out of the armchair. “Time to dance.”
You dance awkwardly like you’re back at the bar, but Javi simply stands there watching you as he finishes his drink. Groaning at his resistance, you grab his arms to try to get him to move, but he pulls you to him instead. You fall into him, resting your head against his chest, drinking in his cologne, feeling his inviting warmth, you continue to sway your hips. He gives in and softly sways too. As you look up and smile, you’re greeted with the same happy look on his face.
When the song fades into a new one, you suddenly remember your situation. You pull away abruptly, anxiety rising. He’s taken aback and his smile falls.
“Sorry,” you apologize, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, “I’m drunk and you’re being very nice. Thank you for getting me home, but I think I’ve annoyed you enough for one night”
He opens his mouth to say something but he bites his lip instead. His hands run over his face, “Yeah, ok.” Reluctantly, he turns and opens the door. “Drink some water before you lay down, will you?”
You chuckle as you let him out, “That would be a good idea, wouldn’t it? Goodnight.” Leaving him with a lingering smile, you slowly close the door.
Heeding his request, you head to bed after a glass of water. The pull of sleep is strong the minute you lie down. It was a fun night despite the CIA debacle. You drank so much that you’ll only have vague memories in the morning but at least tonight you’ll have a nice, deep sleep.
~~
Always the kind soul, Connie invites you to the holiday dinner she’s hosting over the weekend. “Just a few people I’ve collected over the years being down here,” she says, “It’ll be fun and you won’t have to drive home!” You roll your eyes remembering how bad you were the last time you got drunk in public.
Piecing together what you remember, there was a problem with the guys from CIA and Connie had made Javier take you home. You made an ass of yourself and annoyed Javi, talking about who knows what, until he left your apartment after you made him dance. The hangover the next morning was nothing compared to the embarrassment you felt from your drunken antics. One good thing to come out of it was the apologies you got from Hernán the following Monday. Coffee for you in hand, he offered the beverage as penance for he and his friends’ behavior. You had accepted, with the stipulation that Hernán would continue to bring the CIA documents to your office, never Peter.
“Alright, I think I can make it up the stairs for it,” you tease Connie. “What should I bring?” You have nothing going on anyway; you haven’t even thought about doing something special for the holiday season.
“I think one of your famous liquid desserts should suffice,” she says, “They’re a real crowd-pleaser.” You take the hint and buy champagne and some orange juice; night mimosas are a thing, right? You know Connie loves drinks that are bubbly and fruity, so despite the grumbles that may come from a pair of mustachioed DEA agents, you’re happy with your choice.
Hearing the party from the hallway, you knock extra loud on the Murphys’ door. It flings open to reveal Steve in truly the dorkiest sweater you’ve ever seen. He never really has grasped a sense of fashion, but this is something else. It’s hard to tell what’s worse: the mix of colors, the print, or the loose fit on his thin frame. Actively choosing to ignore the disaster, you hold up your presents and flash a smile.
“Come on in,” he says, taking the bottles from your hands as he ushers you through, “Dinner is almost ready.”
The apartment is warm with food, music and people chattering away gleefully. Connie spruced up the place by adding some sparkling garland to surfaces and buying colored napkins to place under drinks. You can’t feel the cool breeze of the night air in here; everyone is warm as they enjoy themselves, jackets piled on a chair in a corner. You add yours to the stack and sit down next to a familiar face, breathing in the smell of whiskey that surrounds him.
“Hey, fancy seeing you here.”
You’ve grown more comfortable with Javier in the last couple weeks. Since the night of your drinking disaster, you’ve felt him soften around you. He’s been more enjoyable in conversation whether it be at work, the hallway, or over dinner with the Murphys. You like the way he laughs at your jokes and the shift in his jaw when you call him on his bullshit. Sometimes he even smiles for more than a minute. You might be softening around him too. You’d be lying if you weren’t thinking about him often at night, wondering what he does to keep those women coming back to his apartment.
“Connie feeds me too much for me to skip this,” he grumbles before finishing the liquid in his glass. There’s a twinkle in his brown eyes as he leans over to nudge your shoulder. Your attention flies to his body as his toned arm bumps against you. The short sleeve black button-up fits him snuggly, maybe a bit too tightly around his biceps, and he managed to leave the top three buttons undone, giving you a peak at his smooth skin. The bastard. He really doesn’t have to do anything for your mind to wander. “You look nice tonight,” he says as he quickly looks you over.
“Oh?” you stutter, caught off guard, “Thanks.” A nervous heat surges through you, a response to the tingle dancing in your stomach. Was that a genuine compliment from Javier Peña? You didn’t even try to dress up, maybe a different color lipstick and a dressier top than normal. Trying to backpedal from your shock, you compliment him back, “You’re looking sharp too, Peña.”
He nods and looks down at his empty glass. “Need a drink?” he asks, getting up from the sofa.
Answering yes, you follow him into the kitchen to find Connie fretting over dinner, plates of different dishes spread out all over the counter.
She squeals your name as she gives you a tight hug, “You made it!”
“I did,” you respond, “And I brought dessert!” You shuffle behind her to grab the champagne that Steve had tucked away. Giddy, she pulls out two flutes from her cabinet, eager for you to pour. “And to top it all off…” you say, grabbing the orange juice from the fridge, “…some orange juice.”
“Aren’t mimosas for the morning?” Javi chides, pouring himself another whiskey.
“Go over there and drink your sad man juice,” you tease with a wave of your hand, “Connie and I are being festive.”
He leaves while rolling his eyes as you and Connie giggle, clinking your glasses together.
With the table set, everyone takes their place and thanks Connie for her cooking before diving in. Making conversation, you enjoy meeting Connie’s other friends: the woman who grew close after staying in the hospital for two weeks and her husband, the abuela next door who Connie helps up the stairs sometimes, Alicia from her work that you have a bad feeling about but you can’t describe why. The good food fuels good feelings, and laughter erases any former awkwardness. Formality thrown out the window, the party flows through the apartment after dinner while people enjoy dessert, both the solid and liquid kinds. Content, you grab another holiday mimosa and slink onto the sofa near Javi.
The more drinks you have, the harder it is to not think about Javier, about kissing him, about how his moustache would feel against your skin, about how he probably knows exactly what he’s doing with a woman. He has no right sitting next to you on this couch looking so damn suave in his snug clothes, smelling of his last cigarette as he observes the room.
“I want to run my fingers through your stupid hair.” You mutter to yourself as you take another swig of your drink.
“What?” Javi asks, cocking an eyebrow.
Shit. You didn’t mean to say that out loud. “Hmm?” you feign ignorance.
“You said something. I didn’t hear you.” He says, not letting it go.
“Did I?” you lie, “I don’t remember.” You smile and point to your drink, trying to blame your slip-up on the alcohol.
He grunts and falls back against the couch, but you still feel his eyes on your back. Please drop it. When Steve calls him over to the window for a smoke, you let yourself exhale.
Needing to escape the embarrassment, you flee to the kitchen to find Connie fussing over some snacks. She flashes you a smile and asks you if you’re having a good time. You assure her that her party is a success and help her arrange the bowls. Seeing the time is past midnight, you use it as the perfect excuse for bailing.
“Hey Con,” you say, “I really have had a fun night tonight but this week was really long and I think I need to cut out now.”
“It’s because I burnt the spinach puffs isn’t it,” she pouts and your heart drops.
“Connie, no—“ Her smile as you protest makes you feel silly for believing her joke. “Damn you.”
“You’re too easy,” she laughs, “But I totally understand. Please get out of here and go sleep.” She nods towards the front door, and you silently thank her as you slip out.
In the safety of your apartment, you collapse into the armchair in your living room. Pinching your forehead, you try to force your blunder out of your mind. So stupid. With thinking it away not working, you head to your kitchen to try drinking it away. You’ve just poured yourself a glass when there are two quick knocks on your door. Confused, you try to remember what you could have left at Connie’s, assuming it’s her.
Your mouth falls open in surprise at who you find waiting. Javier.
He’s standing confidently with his hands on his hips, looking far too handsome than he should considering the dim hall lighting. A smile creeps from the corner of his mouth at your reaction. He holds up your jacket, giving him a reason to be at your door. As he looks you over, he notices the glass in your hand. “Mind if I join you?” he asks.
Catching you off guard, you nod your head as you answer, “Uh...yeah sure, Peña. Come in.” You step aside letting him enter. “Have a seat.”
You motion to the living room and head back into the kitchen for a second glass. He leans your jacket along the armchair and plops onto the couch. Handing him his drink, you sit in the armchair, not wanting to embarrass yourself like the last time he came in for a nightcap. Observing your movements, he chuckles to himself before taking a sip.
“What?” you ask.
How did you manage to mess this up already?
He waits a beat before answering, drawing out the tension dramatically. “So you want to run your fingers through my stupid hair, huh?” he teases, looking you dead in the eyes.
Your stomach falls to the floor. Shit. You’re done for. Awkwardness overpowering your composure, you have no control over your reaction, your body faltering as you sink as far as you can into the safety of the cushion. You can only imagine the combination of emotions strewn across your face. Enjoying your torture, Javi continues to smirk.
“Do you remember the last time we were like this? Telling me how handsome and full of myself I am?”
“I was very drunk. I’m sorry,” you reply mortified, running your hands down your face.
You avert your gaze; his taunting look is making you sick as a second wave of distress flows through you.
“And chastised me for sitting where you are now because I thought you’d try something and figured I wouldn’t like it,” he continues, reveling in your agony.
“Again, very sorry,” you say, standing to flee as your fight-or-flight instincts kick in. Apparently, you were very chatty that night and he’s going to make you pay for it now.
“Well, you were wrong,“ he says, grabbing your hand before you get away, “I sat far away so I wouldn’t make a move.”
You freeze, shock coursing through you. When you turn to look at him, his face is less devilish, more soft, pupils dilating rapidly. He lightly tugs on your hand motioning for you to sit down next to him. When you comply, you lean against the edge, keeping a little distance. He keeps a hold on your hand, lightly rubbing it with his thumb.
His voice is sickeningly deep as he says, “And that wasn’t the first or last night I’ve thought about making one.”
Fuck. Your mind goes blank, leaving the anxiety behind. “Is that so?” you ask, gaining your nerve back.
You had thought he wouldn’t even grant you the time of day, given his usual interactions with you. But to be fair, he has been loosening his guard around you for a little while now. Were you too busy looking at him that you hadn’t bothered to notice he was doing the same to you?
“As much as you’ve thought about these button-ups,” he says placing your hand on his chest for you to dance your fingers across the fabric, “I’ve been thinking about tasting those lips.”
While a hand slips to your thigh, his eyes dart between your eyes and lips. Any doubt you have about his intentions fade away as a warmth rises in you, soaking with arousal. This is happening tonight; you’ve wanted him for long enough.
“Are you sure you want this?” you ask, giving him one last out before you let yourself go.
“That body has been tempting me for months. I’m going to worship it,” he growls.
Fuck. The slickness between your thighs begs to be toyed with.
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Peña,” you chide, slinking your hand up to wrap it around the nape of his neck.
“Aren’t you curious to find out if I’m worth the time?” he goads, inching closer to your mouth.
The anticipation is agonizing. You’re overwhelmed with lust, the strong fingers digging into your thigh, the intensity of his dark eyes searing into yours, the heat rolling off his toned body as he closes the distance between you. He stills mere centimeters before contact, waiting for an answer to his question. You take one more quick breath before plunging yourself into him, accepting his challenge.
For all the pent up tension, the kiss is surprisingly tender. Simple and sweet, you enjoy your first taste of him, one that is long overdue. His moustache tickles your upper lip as you follow his movements, allowing him to lead. He grabs a hold of your arm, pulling you over to straddle him. As he feels your thighs slide around him, the pressure from his lips builds. You grasp at his collar needing to hold on, matching his intensity in your kiss.
A moan escapes you when two hands clamp down on your ass, a sharp smack before massaging the fabric with dexterous fingers. His rough touch makes you want to sink further into him, let him have his way. Sliding his tongue to meet yours, you feel his thighs twitch beneath you, your own contracting around him too. You become aware of the rising bulge trapped between your bodies and slowly grind against it, earning a guttural growl from him.
“Shit,” he huffs out, breaking away.
The whine you make at the loss of him is cut off by one of pleasure as he licks up your neck, finding a new area to indulge. His kisses grow bruising when he grabs your neck to hold you still, teeth lightly nipping at the sensitive skin as you mumble incoherently from the pleasure. His mouth roams further south to lap at the tops of your breasts. He releases you of your shirt, swiftly sending your bra with it shortly after.
Free from fabric, his hands grope your breasts, the warm rough touch of his fingers kneading into them. He teases one nipple, coaxing it to rise as he attaches his mouth to the other, fully trying to consume every inch of you.
He wraps his arms around your back and slowly shifts until you’re down on the couch underneath him. Letting his hand drift down your body, it lands on the zipper of your pants. He leans back onto his knees looking down at you, and you grant him permission with a groan from your swollen lips. Gently, he removes you of the rest of your clothes and props your legs up, lowering himself to position his face above your aching core.
Savoring the look of you, he holds your gaze as he sends a teasing lick into your folds. Your breath hitches as your back arches upwards, his arm quick to hold you down. It’s as if he’s been hungry for days with the way he devours you, greedily lapping up every part of your wetness. His tongue dashes through you, especially unrelenting on the bundle of nerves he so deftly found.
When you think he couldn’t possibly do anything more, his finger cautiously enters you, curling to your top wall. Your needy whine encourages him and he pulls out to return with an added finger, pumping slowly. Bliss blinds you as your core clenches, feeling the promise of release. He focuses his mouth on your clit, pressuring it with tight circles from his tongue.
The orgasm hits you harder than expected, and you’re whimpering praise to him as he continues to ravish your writhing body, the high crashing through you. He doesn’t stop until you’re limp against the cushion, calm in ecstasy.
Catching your breath, you look over to Javi and find him slumped against the couch watching you with arousal caught in his moustache. As you regain function of your brain, you see that he is fully clothed and decide that it is not acceptable.
Once again, you throw yourself onto him to straddle his thighs, capturing his mouth in a deep kiss. His hands creep up your naked back as you taste yourself on his lips. Your kisses travel down along his jaw and neck as you slowly unbutton his shirt, dramatically tossing it open to paw at his chest.
“How long have you wanted to do that for?” he teases, tossing his shirt aside.
“Shut up, Peña,” you growl into his skin, slinking down his body, pressing kisses as you go, until you’re kneeling before him. Holding his gaze, you slide his pants down to reveal his straining cock glistening with pre-cum. Goddamn. It turns out Peña does have a reason to be so confident.
You flash him a devilish wink and twirl your tongue against his tip to collect his arousal, feeling his legs strain under your arms that hold him down. You lap a long, slow stripe along his impressive length agonizingly slow, wanting him to feel your every move. Javi moans lowly when you finally take him into your mouth, suctioning your cheeks around him. Supporting the base with your hand, you bob up and down, slathering him with your wet mouth, making good use of those lips he so wanted to taste. Taking him as far as your throat will allow, you hum softly as your free hand massages his balls. His fingers dangle in your hair, digging into your scalp as you pull back to repeat the process, ragged breaths passing through his clenched teeth.
Just as you feel the throbbing of his cock increase, he lifts your head to remove himself from your mouth. Allowing him to calm down, you wait a beat before rising to straddle him once more. Reaching back you hold his cock steady as you slowly slide down onto it, letting your walls adjust to the girth. You rest your arms on his shoulders and kiss him as you languidly glide along his length, savoring how full you feel. You’re so sensitive to every twitch of his cock, every brush of his hand on your back, every lash of his tongue against yours, pleasure jolting through you.
As your movements accelerate, Javi’s lust takes control. Supporting your ass in his hands, he holds you in place and spreads his legs a little wider to plant his feet. He thrusts up into you, increasing in speed and power with each stroke. You have to pull your lips away and force your forehead against his to catch your breath with your mouth stuck in an O.
It isn’t enough and he flips you on your back, angling his cock back into you as his hands dig into your hips. Fuck. His eyes are as black as night, watching you take every thrust. You clutch at your breasts to soothe your aching nipples while he bucks his hips against yours, forming bruises. He looks incredible while fucking you into oblivion, muscles glistening in sweat, hair a shabby mess; it’s almost unfair.
The low rumble of a second orgasm turns into a roar when he reaches between you and rubs tight circles against your clit. This one starts in your toes as the familiar tingles flow up into you and you clench around him repeatedly, riding out your high.
“Fuck,” he mutters, “I’m close.” He pumps into you with three more rough thrusts and pulls out to spill his cum all over your stomach. Sputtering as he strokes himself, wave after wave lands on you, coating you in the warm arousal. Resting back on to his knees, he lays his forearms against your legs; his eyes raking over the state of your body.
“There’s some washcloths in the bathroom,” you say gesturing to the hall. He plants a soft kiss to your kneecap before heading off. He returns with a wet cloth and gingerly removes his cum from your body, careful to collect it all. He places one more kiss to your lips, just as soft as the first one you shared, and stands to put on his clothes.
You scurry to your bedroom and quickly throw on some loose clothes before returning to the living room where Javi is working on re-buttoning.
“Hey, we should do this again sometime,” you say, trying to sound alluring as you lay against the wall.
“I can’t commit to anything,” he responds flatly. His tone and body language are noticeably colder now that his clothes are back on.
“I didn’t ask that,” you say, taken aback. You know better than to expect anything serious from him. He doesn’t respond, so you try to plead your case, desperate for another shot at that dick. “We don’t have to say anything to the Murphys, nothing regular. My door will be open, Peña.”
He thinks it over as he lights up a cigarette taking a long drag. “As long as you’re not expecting things,” he says sternly, “I’ll take you up on your offer.” For as attractive as he is, Javi is still twice the asshole. His grumpy dramatics get old during a single dinner, let alone a whole day with the man; keeping things casual is the best idea.
“You’re so self-centered, Peña. Not everyone is trying to tie you down,” you chide, opening the door for him. He smiles and kisses your cheek as he passes through the doorway.
He’s halfway down the hall when he stops and turns back to you. “Well? Was I worth the time?” he teases with a shit-eating grin on his face. The smug bastard.
“Goodnight, Peña,” you say, rolling your eyes as you shut the door.