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Javier picks up on the tension in the room. It takes him all of ten minutes to notice how you squirm when he tries to press a kiss to the top of your head, the way you frown when he doesn’t put his plate away after breakfast.
"Did I do something?” He asks when you demonstratively snatch the plate from right in front of him to run it under the tap.
"No." You answer. Fucking melted cheese sandwich. Doesn’t he know it will stick and be impossible to clean? You feel Javier’s eyes on you as you scrub furiously at the dirty plate. Maybe he notices the very loose fitting shorts you’re wearing, or maybe he does the math in his head but either way he connects the dots. He begins to speak.
"Are you on your-" You whirl, nailing him to the chair with your eyes and pointing at him with the dish brush.
"Don't fucking say it." Each word is punctuated by a stab with the brush, sending droplets of water flying. You’re nowhere near him. There’s a counter dividing you and, again, you’re holding a dish brush , not a gun. Javier still looks nervous.
"Right, uh, well," he scratches at the edges of his mustache "Do you want anything?" You huff. Turn back around to continue scrubbing away bits of cheese.
"A nap." You mutter over your shoulder. There’s a moment of silence as you wait for him to blurt out something about how he has to go to the office even though it’s his day off, for the door to open and then slam shut behind him as he makes a run for it.
"No, I mean, is there anything I can do for you?" You’re surprised he even heard you. The earnestness in his voice softens the edges of your mood some. Almost makes you feel guilty for being so snappy. You sigh, put the dish brush away and wipe your hands before wandering over to Javier.
"Just let me nap." He bows his head down in concession. You hate that this had to happen on his day off, that you feel like you can’t be fully present and spend time with him. He leans into your hand, resting at his cheek, and looks up at you. Bags are starting to show under his eyes and there’s a fine net of red throughout the whites. By the looks of it, if anyone needs to sleep it’s him.
"Maybe,” you begin and Javier perks up, listens ”come lie down with me."
It’s always easy to fall asleep with Javier next to you. Whether he’s cradling you, or you’re cradling him, there’s a sense of security that you don’t think you’ve ever experienced quite so intensely before. He’s the most relaxed in the bedroom too. The kitchen, the living room: they all serve the added purpose of office. More often than not, Javier stumbles into bed late and then leaves again early but during those few hours in between he’s yours. You wake up from the nap to find he hasn’t moved an inch: one arm draped over your waist from behind and the other tucked under your head like a pillow. There’s still an ache in your abdomen but the nausea and irritation has abated some. Turning in Javier’s embrace, you see his eyelashes begin to flutter as he comes to. It’s unreal how pretty he is like this. Drowsy, pliant. Soldered to your body like you’re his anchor. You press a kiss to the tip of his nose and he groans, then another to his lips and his mouth twitches in reciprocation.
"I don't mind it, you know." Javier murmurs after the maybe ninth or tenth quick peck.
"Don't mind what?" You ask, nosing along his cheekbone. He yawns, stretches the arm underneath your head, and says, ever-so-casually:
"Fucking you while you're bleeding." If not for his arm still around you, you might have fallen from the bed in shock.
"Javi!" You exclaim, very much awake now. He cracks an eye open to peer at you.
"I lived with Lorraine, you know. I'm not entirely unfamiliar with this-” he seems to consider how to phrase it “-this part of womanhood." A bit stilted, but not the worst thing someone’s said. You huff, rolling onto your back to stare at the ceiling. Javier’s hand skims back and forth across your stomach, so light that it might have tickled but now all it does is soothe the remnants of your stomach ache.
"Is that why you work overtime every time this happens?" His hand stills. Then the mattress shifts as Javier sidles up close again, and he takes your chin in between his thumb and forefinger. Tilts it so that you have to look him in the eye.
"Baby, I work overtime every day," He says softly and though your hormones are silently calling him ‘liar’, you know he has a point "Besides, you shut me out when this happens. Sort of figured you wanted to be left alone." You cast your gaze down, planting it on the bit of chest you can see under his half-buttoned shirt. Javier begins to kiss you the same way you did him. Soft, tender pecks landing along your mouth and nose in quick succession. Acting on instinct, you tug him on top of you. Or rather, you tug at his waist and he takes the hint. His teeth close around your lower lip, the sting of it making you twitch and gasp. Javier soothes the bite with a swipe of his tongue and you go boneless under him. Head sinking onto the pillow, arms falling uselessly to the side. The bastard knows what that does to you.
"Let me take care of you." He suggests, shifting his hips to better fit between your legs and you feel him : thick and hard inside his jeans. You groan, manage to lift a hand to pull at the rest of his shirt buttons, and nod. Javier kisses you again. You don't know why you expect him to just tug your underwear down, maybe use your worn out shorts as a half-assed towel to protect the bedlinen, and slip inside: it's never really been his style to just wedge his cock into your pussy right off the bat and then call it a day once you've both climaxed. But when he pulls the straps of your camisole down, sucking one nipple into his mouth and leaving it a pebble before moving further down you freeze. Grab on to his hair like it's a handle.
"What are you doing?" He blinks up at you from just above your half-exposed mound, one hand still hooked around the waistband of your shorts and panties.
"What I said I'd do." With that, he returns to undressing you. When he plants his lips right at your bikini line, you stop him again and this time he growls.
"Bebita,” he scolds “If you don't want me to, just say so. No need to give me a bald spot." You scramble for an excuse. It’s not that you don’t want to, Javier’s mouth might just be your absolute favourite way of getting off, but he’s never offered in these circumstances before. No one has. Telling a guy that you’re on your period has, historically, resulted in responses ranging from weirded out to disgusted, sometimes with the request that you get in touch ‘once you’re done with it’. And in spite of Javier’s insistence that this isn’t new territory for him, you can’t help but think that he doesn’t know what he’s getting himself into.
"The sheets will get all messy." You offer now as an excuse. He shrugs.
"About time to throw them out anyway. They've had a good run." He’s not wrong: you suspect he bought the sheets before coming to Colombia. Javier hauls himself up the length of you again. Not all the way up, just enough so that he can rest his head between your breasts. He hides his face there and though you can’t see him you suspect he looks like the cat that got the cream.
"And I don't recall you being concerned about making a mess when you begged me to cum on your tits-" he licks a stripe up the valley between your breasts as if to remind you "-or when you squirted all over my face." Jesus christ. You close your eyes and count to three, hoping that that will be enough to keep your voice from shaking. Again, you tug at his hair. A little gentler this time. He lifts his head to look at you with those warm, brown eyes.
“Be careful,” you murmur “I’m a bit sore.” He sucks in a breath, nods hurriedly.
“Yeah.” He says, and you know him well enough to understand that it’s a promise to not do anything you haven’t agreed to, as well as a promise to stop should you tell him to. Javier tugs your shorts and panties down in one go, throwing them and the still-stuck-to-your-underwear pad somewhere on the floor. A second later, his shirt joins the pile. One hand on either thigh, Javier spreads you wide for him and he drapes his arms over your legs as he settles into position. He lets his tongue dip into your core for a taste and, lightning fast, your legs clamp shut around his head. It only eggs him on. Javier smothers his mouth over your opening: lips parting to suck, and to let his tongue repeat the dragging motion from bottom to top over and over. You’re shaking, unsure of what to do with yourself as he continues the gentle onslaught. He takes a second to breathe and the brief glimpse of his messy face sends a flash of heat to your core. That he’d do this for you, without hesitation, is somehow just as sexy as the way he’ll grunt neverending streams of compliments when you have your lips around his cock. Returning to work, Javier lets his nose brush against your clit and you damn near screech at how sensitive it is. You’re panting, hands scrambling to find purchase in his unruly locks but not because you want to stop him. In fact, if he were to stop right now you might have to use some very colourful language to explain what an idiot he is. He shifts again, flicks his tongue at the bud and you sob. There’s some half-formed idea in your head to beg but it never has the chance to become more than half-formed because Javier seals his lips around your clit and sucks. Like he’s parched and it’s the last drop of water in existence.You crumble then, voice breaking as you cry out his name and tense. For one bright, shining moment your limbs feel light, like feathers. Then, as the peak of your orgasm passes, you go limp. Javier rises to his knees. It really is a sight: blood smeared over his lips and out towards his cheeks, his mustache and the hook of his nose stained a deep red. Like a vampire, a predator, you think with some amusement, still drunk on your climax. He grabs a corner of the sheet, bringing it to his face and unceremoniously wiping away the worst of the mess.
“Don’t have to do more if you don’t feel like it.” He says. You answer by unzipping his jeans for him while he’s still poised like that, finding that he has once again skipped the underwear when his erection immediately rises in a slight curve toward his soft belly.
“I wish I could get away with that.” You mutter. Javier chuckles. Lowers himself down again to hover above you.
“You could,” He says, pushing the jeans far down enough his legs that he can kick them off “If you’re willing to put up with me always having a hand down your pants.” You huff at that: you tried wearing a skirt to the office once but quickly decided that it was too detrimental to Javier’s ability to function at work. Not wearing underwear? That just might end up with his head imploding. With one hand as support on the mattress beside your head and the other forming a fist around his cock, he pushes forward. Between the slickness of your arousal and the blood that is now thoroughly coating your sex, there’s barely any resistance meeting him. Buried to the hilt, Javier drops his forehead to rest against yours. Gives one tentative thrust, accompanied by a wet squelch.
“Good?” He asks, breathless. So far, yes, very good. And strange.
“Ye-yes.” You manage to get out. Javier begins to move, slow and undulating. Careful: like he promised. Your legs lock around his waist out of habit. Your eyes close at some point, as you get lost in the feeling of his cock stretching and filling you all at once. Then, a fingertip brushes at the sensitive bud between your legs and you gasp, eyes flying open. He bats his eyelashes at you and if not for the grin splitting his face and the way your cunt keeps swallowing his cock he might have been the picture of innocence in that moment. He buries his head at your shoulder, finger still toying with your clit, sucking at the skin there in between sweet bites. Not hard, never hard, just enough to make your senses prick up and be alert so that when he soothes the bites with his tongue and lips you’ll feel it all the more. Your fingers scrape down the length of his back, more like you’re tending to an itch of his than clawing in throes of passion. And he quivers. You repeat the motion and he whines, lets his head come up to rest cheek-to-cheek with you.
“Bebita.” He murmurs, letting it be accompanied by a more insistent pressure on your clit. You haven’t even realized how close you are to the edge but as Javier increases his pace you recognize the knot forming, getting ready to burst, in your groin. You hold on to him, your strained breathing mingling with the squelch of his cock driving back and forth through the slick of your folds. With another flick of his finger at your clit, the knot explodes. That same lightness spreads through your limbs, through your mind. Javier curses as his hips falter and then there’s even more slickness as he coats your inner walls with cum. You’re barely there for the last few thrusts as he milks his release for all it’s worth, too relaxed by the afterglow of your own orgasm to react much. Javier slips back out of the snug grasp of your cunt. Sitting up at the edge of the bed, he hauls you onto his lap with one arm around your waist. Settles you sideways and plants his free hand at the back of your neck to keep you close as you stare back at him with what feels like a silly smile. He kisses you, tasting like salt and metal. Then you’re being repositioned again, helped onto your feet with Javier’s arm around you. From the corner of your eye, you notice him start to pull the thoroughly ruined sheet into a pile at the foot of the bed.
“Let’s get cleaned up.”