Work Text:
“Whiskey?”
“You’re offering me a drink now? What a gentleman,” You teased, watching Javier light a cigarette up. His lips quirked before pulling into a playful pout as he took a puff.
“I don’t seem like one?”
“Well, you don’t fuck like one.”
Javier rolled his eyes, pulling his jeans on before getting up and heading into his kitchen.
“That a yes or a no?”
“Sure,” You sighed, laying back against his couch. You closed your eyes, stretching your arms up over your head and yawning. It was hardly the first time you’d wound up in Javier Peña’s apartment to work out some of your job-related frustrations. The two of you had gravitated toward one another when you'd started working at the DEA’s at the Bogotá office; you weren’t interested in anything serious, and neither was he.
Of course, that had been in the early days, before you knew Javier well. The two of you had been sleeping together for the past few months, and you’d grown...Fond of your fellow agent. He wasn’t just a fuck-buddy, he was a friend, and a damn good one.
...Not that you ever told him that.
“Here.”
You opened your eyes, taking the proffered glass with a murmur of thanks. Javier swatted at your calf, and you lifted your legs just enough for Javier to sit down near you. You took a sip from your glass and sighed at the slight burn. You settled back against the arm of the couch, closing your eyes and focusing on the feeling of the cushions under you, of Javier’s hand lightly rubbing up your shin.
“...What happened there?” He murmured.
“Hm?”
You felt his fingers trail along the underside of a large bruise that covered almost the entirety of your right thigh. You opened one eye, peering down at it before glancing up at Javier. His eyes were narrowed under a furrowed brow and set intently at the mottled skin, lips pressed into thin line.
“Occupational hazard,” You answered simply. Javier’s eyes darted to your face.
“I didn’t notice.”
“Well you had me bent over the couch, I figured you weren’t paying too much attention to my thighs,” You teased, giving Javier a smile. He didn’t return it, though, instead averting his eyes and taking a deep draw from his cigarette. Your smile wilted a little.
You and Javier had seen one another bruised and scraped up plenty of times. You couldn’t pretend that the sight of Javier hurt didn’t twist your stomach; the thought that Javier could feel the same way settled a weight in your chest. You knew that that weight would only grow the longer you stayed there with him. You sat up, gripping Javier’s cheeks and giving them a playful squeeze, making him turn to you again.
“Don’t get all grumpy on me,” You murmured before pecking Javier’s lips. You passed Javier your half-finished glass before swinging your legs off of his lap and reaching for your discarded clothes, beginning to dress.
“Early morning?” He asked.
“Just can’t turn up smelling like your aftershave again.”
“People ask questions last time?”
“Nah, I just don’t like how it smells,” You teased, turning to Javier and wrinkling your nose. He rolled his eyes, draining the glass you’d handed him. You stood, buttoning up your jeans and straightening your shirt.
“Hey,” Javier reached out, hooking a finger through your belt loop and tugging you back.
“What?”
Javier slid his arm around your waist, drawing you down to straddle one of his thighs. He drew you in for a soft kiss before slipping his whiskey-tinged tongue between your lips. You groaned softly, cupping his cheeks and holding to the kiss for a moment more. You drew away slowly, even as one of Javier’s hand lowered to smooth soft circles over your covered, bruised thigh. You patted his cheek lightly before prying yourself from his arms.
--
You couldn’t let Javier do that— even if you spent the night thinking about the feeling of Javier’s hand careful, warm and comforting over your tender skin. Javier would never take that from you; he would never stand to be coddled.
You’d tried, once— it had been early in your relationship, before you knew Javier well. He’d had a bandage on his side, and you’d pressed a kiss to the edge on your way to unfasten his belt. He’d cupped the back of your neck and redirected you, mumbled something about kissing something else better (you would’ve rolled your eyes if you’d been less distracted).
But that was the thing: Javier didn’t show you the vulnerable parts. You didn’t go over to fix things; you didn’t go to take care of Javier, or to be taken care of. You went for comfort, and that’s exactly what the both of you got out of your time together.
You laid in your bed alone and sighed, shifting in bed and focusing on the slip of the sheet over your skin, displacing the memory of Javier’s touch. You chalked his mood up to a fluke and let your head and heart settle for the night.
--
Javier wasn’t a bad lover by any means— in fact, he was the best lover that you’d ever had (but you would not go out of your way to tell him that; he had a big enough ego without your damn help). That said, typically, Javier wasn’t usually the most giving lover. Look, you didn’t expect him to be— you went there to work out frustrations together. So it was no wonder that Javier was forceful with you. You reveled in it— in every tug, in every grip, every thrust. You wanted him to pull you out of your own mind, and you could lose yourself in that man’s touch.
After a bad week— after a frustrating few days, one-too-many near-misses and late hours, you found yourself on Javier’s doorstep again, tired, and with desperation and dissatisfaction simmering under your skin.
And Javier pulled you inside. He ridded you off your clothes with artless tugs— and he turned and pushed you face-first against the hall wall. You braced your hands, listening as you heard Javier unbuckle his belt and unzip his jeans.
You held your breath, waiting to feel Javier press himself into you. But there was a pause before you felt Javier’s breath brush the nape of your neck. A moment later, his fingers rested on a bandage on your right shoulder blade— the swipe of a knife that had sliced deep enough to wound, but not badly enough to need stitches. You flinched away a little, sucking in a breath as your heart pounded in your chest.
Javier didn’t move for a moment. His breath brushed over your nape again before he experimentally skimmed his fingers along the edge of the bandage. You squeezed your eyes shut and reached back, gripping at Javier’s hip and giving it a swift swat.
It seemed to snap Javier out of whatever had driven him to distraction. His hands gripped your wrists, raising them to rest over your head. He gripped both with one hand before he lowered the other to grasp his cock, guiding himself into you carefully.
The both of you groaned quietly as he bottomed out. Your head tipped forward to rest against the wall as you adjusted around Javier. He rested his head against your nape, grinding into you slowly.
“Javi,” You breathed, flexing your hands in his hold. He didn’t answer, just turned his head. You felt his mustache tickle against your skin, then his lips, then—
You gasped at the sharp pain of Javier’s teeth sinking into the meat of your shoulder. He lifted his head, hot breath puffing against the shell of your ear as he fucked into you harder.
“Come on,” He urged before he lowered his head, scraping his teeth along the side of your neck.
“Fuck,” You whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut as you fluttered around him. He groaned, lifting his hand to press two of his fingers into your mouth. You groaned, swirling your tongue around them, bobbing your head in time with his thrusts. He pressed down on your tongue, sucking a kiss to your neck as he pulled his fingers out of your mouth.
Javier pressed his mouth to the crook of your neck, laying warm, wet kisses there as he slipped his spit-slicked fingers between your thighs. He swirled them around your clit. You couldn’t help your jolt and gasp; you wanted to hate Javier for his chuckle— you could feel him grinning against your skin.
“That just what you wanted?” He taunted, “Mm?”
“Shut up—”
“That what you need?”
“Harder, Javi!” You pleaded.
You whimpered as Javier's thrusts became more forceful, his grasp on your wrists tightening. You squeezed your eyes shut, focusing on the feeling of Javier’s cock pounding into you; the brush of his chest against your back; his fingers swirling over your clit just there—
--
You let Javier shepherd you to the couch. You laid down on your stomach, resting your head on your folded arms and closing your eyes. You heard the thudding of glasses being set on the coffee table in front of you before you felt the couch dip by your stomach. You flinched when you felt Javier’s fingers touched your bandage again.
“Cut that out,” You mumbled, squirming a little and turning your head away from Javier. There was a moment of quiet beside you before you heard the click of a lighter. You sighed softly, turning your head again and blinking your eyes open sleepily. You eyed the two glasses on the coffee table— whiskey, both.
You rolled onto your back, wincing as the movement put pressure on your wound before you reached out, wiggling your fingers. Javier glanced back at you before he lifted one of the glasses, passing it into your hand.
“Thanks,” You mumbled.
“Sure,” Javier turned away, reaching for his own glass. You scrubbed a hand over your face, sighing softly.
You felt Javier glancing back toward you before he turned forward again, “You didn’t tell me you were hurt.”
“I’m fine.”
You watched Javier get up and walk over to the window, draining his glass. You sighed through your nose, looking down at the glass in your hand.
“...Would you tell me if you weren’t?” He asked after a moment.
You arched a brow, glancing up to find him looking out of the window.
“Would you?” You retorted. Javier didn’t look at you; he didn’t answer. You drained the glass before you pulled yourself to sit up.
“Going?” He asked.
“Mhm.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I should.”
“I got a new aftershave.”
You chuckled softly, standing and walking over to Javier.
“Switching it up, huh?” You teased. Javier slipped his arm around your middle, eyes searching your face for a moment as you leaned against him.
“...You could stay,” He reiterated after a moment.
You could. You had before— but every time you stayed in Javier’s bed, it was harder for you to pull yourself out of it.
“I shouldn’t,” You smiled before you leaned up, pecking his lips gently. He nodded a little, letting his hand slip down to rest on your lower back. You gave his chest a pat before you drew yourself out of his arms. You dressed in the front hall, where your clothes had been deposited. You could feel Javier watching you, waiting— you didn’t know what for.
You turned to give him one last look, giving him a short wave and a wink before leaving, shutting the door behind yourself.
--
You couldn’t get your head to settle that night.
Javier confused you— since when did he want you to know if you were hurt? And what was that crack about the new aftershave?
You sighed, slipping down under the covers a little further and rolling over onto your side. You couldn’t tell Javier that you couldn’t sleep with him because you’d like it too much— because you’d get too comfortable.
That wasn’t why you and Javier did what you did.
--
Javier wasn’t the most giving lover.
But sometimes, he needed to let go as much as you did.
Sometimes he needed to be shoved around his own apartment, pinned down onto the bed by his throat and your hips. Sometimes Javier laid under you with dark, wide eyes and a pink, panting mouth. Those were the nights that his hands would skim and caress your body as if you were made of porcelain. You didn’t begrudge him that— because you knew that those were the days that had been the worst for him.
Sometimes Javier had to be taken out of his own head for a few hours.
And those were the nights when you didn’t need to be convinced to stay.
--
You glanced down as he propped a cigarette between his lips. He offered you the pack, but you waved him off wordlessly. He sat up just enough to reach the lighter that was in permanent residence on his bedside table. You watched him light up before he took in a deep drag. You eyed the rise of his belly with the inhale, the long hold of it, then the long line of his throat as he tipped his head back against your breasts, the smoke leaving him in one long puff.
These were the nights where Javier made your chest ache— where the weight of his body against yours was bittersweet, and filled you with a cloying affection for him.
It was nice to be needed, you supposed.
You reached down, sweeping your fingers through his sweat-dampened curls. He tipped his head back into your touch, bringing the cigarette back to his lips. You didn’t ask if he wanted to talk about it; you knew the answer.
“What do you need?” You asked instead.
The answer always varied. Sometimes you got silence. Sometimes Javier simply held up his cigarette; sometimes he asked for a glass of whiskey; sometimes he rolled back over and buried himself back between your thighs.
Tonight, he turned his head. He blinked owlishly up at you for a moment before he pushed himself to lean over you.
“Just this,” He murmured before dropping a soft kiss to your lips.
You choked down a whine and bit back a smile, even as the nattering, rotten thoughts crept in:
He didn’t mean that.
He meant his cigarette.
He meant a quick fuck.
He didn’t mean you, he meant comfort.
--
You didn’t work with Peña on the field much; the two of you had separate partners, worked your own ops, chased down your own leads. You operated on different wavelengths, had your own assignments come down the line. Sure, now and again you’d pass information that might help the other, but beyond that, it was rare that you saw one another in action.
That was what made that day so scary.
Your partner was used to you pulling stupid stunts— Javier was not. And sure, while you’d managed to briefly put a scare into your partner, they’d declared that they hadn’t really thought that you’d died. You’d teased them, asked if they’d drafted their eulogy.
And while they’d retorted that they wouldn’t be within fifty fuckin’ feet of your funeral, your eyes caught on Javier’s.
They caught on his relief, and they caught on his fury.
--
He couldn’t seem to decide what you were that night: a piece of porcelain or someone that could handle his ministrations— as if you hadn’t been bruised by his hands before, as if you hadn’t begged for a rougher touch on a rougher day.
It was rare that he took you on your back— you riding Javier, that was one thing, but for the two of you to be looking in one another’s eyes with Javier curled over you was another story.
He had an arm hooked around your lower back; the other was tucked around you, his hand cradling your head as he fucked into you. Your hands were not quite so stationary, so soft— you were gripping his arms, his ass, his side — anywhere that you could think to speed him along. You’d asked him for more, you’d begged for him to be rough and dug your heels into his back.
He just ground into you with concentrated thrusts, eyes wandering your face. It was like he was watching for something— for what, you didn’t know. You would’ve found a way to give him the moon if it would speed him along.
“Javi, please—” You tightened around him. He groaned, dropping his head to bury in your neck as you whimpered, “Need— I need it—”
--
His fingers traced a slow, reverent path down your spine. You watched him sleepily; his eyes were set on his fingers, as if he wasn’t sure what they’d do if they were left unsupervised.
“You gonna offer me a whiskey?” You asked after a moment. Javier didn’t answer, just trailed his fingers back up toward the nape of your neck. You went on, “That would be the gentlemanly thing to do—”
“You scared me out there.”
He was watching you again. You lowered your eyes to his chest, wordless. It didn’t sound like a declaration, it didn’t sound like a scolding; it sounded like Javier was as surprised by it as you were.
“...Yeah, well,” You managed after a moment, “It’s a dangerous job.”
You peered up at Javier and found him watching you still.
“...I’m going to get us whiskey,” He said after a moment, extracting himself from your arms, “And you’re going to stay here tonight.”
It wasn’t an offer; it was an order. You almost thrilled at his assertiveness— you couldn’t help your smile this time. You laid back on the bed, watching Javier unabashedly as he pulled his boxers on. He caught you looking, and he didn't shy away; he didn't pose, or tease. He just planted his hands on his hips and quirked a brow, expectant.
“Need anything else while I’m up?” He asked.
You reached out, gripping his hand and pulling him down for a kiss. It was little more than a press of lips— almost like a first kiss. But then, something about yourself and Javier seemed terribly...New.
“Just this,” You reassured softly.