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The phone rings. A shrill sound piercing the night air, drowning the distant chirping of insects. A pair of legs stir from beneath light bed covers as eyebrows scrunch in annoyance, matching the downward pull of lips. Drifting in from the half-open window, a light breeze barely cools the damp clinging to the back of his neck – it, too, was sticky and thick from the Colombian heat.
Another chime sounds and heavy eyes struggle to blink open. Javier grunts, puffing a breath of annoyance against the salty-skin touching his lips. Long hair tickles his nose as the woman wrapped in his arms shifts, pressing firmly back against his chest as she re-settles. A roughened hand drags lazily along the soft expanse of her skin, thigh to shoulder, gently tucking the stray strands back behind her ear.
Rrrrrrrrring.
Shifting onto his elbow, Javier pinches the bridge of his nose as muttered curses escape on his breath. Spots dance across his vision; eyes scrunching shut before rapidly blinking open. Tenderly, his lips press against the back of the sleeping figure’s head, arm feeling the heat rising from her body as he reaches across her still form. His fingers search blindly, feeling for the edge of the nightstand, and follow the vibrations through the wood as the phone rings once more.
“Peña,” he grunts, voice thick with disdain and the pull of sleep. His eyebrows crease in concentration, grip adjusting as he strains to hear anything coming from the other end of the line. Faint Vallenato tunes accompanied by distant laughter drift in the background, drowned-out every few moments by cars passing by. Javier quickly grows impatient, scratching his chin as the pause extends. “Who the fuck is this?” he growls, voice hushing towards the end of his outburst as a foot bumps against his own.
The reply has him jolting the phone away from his ear.
“Jaaaaavvi!” Steve slurs, words light and free as though the name slipped through a loose grin, “Javi, you ditched me for drinks, Javi. Huh, your name sounds really nice, Javi, it rolls real smooth. Javi Javi Javi.”
Every time Steve repeats his name, Javier feels a nail being driven into his skull. Dropping his head back onto the pillows, he readjusts his grip, cutting through Steve’s next train of thought with half-mumbled words. “Why the fuck are you calling me at three in the goddamn morning, Steve?”
A deafening laugh chases his sentence as though Javier had just cracked the funniest joke in Bogota. “Oh shit, Javi, it’s that late? Early? Fuck, Javi, I think I’mma bit drunk.”
His brows shoot up in astonishment. “A bit? Steve, you’re fucking plastered.” He glances to the woman beside him, knuckles tracing absently along her spine. Fucking gringo, he thinks, out this late alone, he’s going to get himself killed. Rolling to spoon the brunette, Javier traces gentle kisses along her jaw and cheek, voice soft in his reply as her eyelids flutter. “Where are you? Do you have a ride home?”
“You ditched me for another cheap fuck tonight, dinnya Javi?” Steve cuts in, rambling. His words seem to sour as his voice raises an octave, and Javier can practically hear the pout through the phone. “Can’t keep Javier fucking Peña away from a tight pussy and nice pair of tits.”
Fingers massaging his throbbing head, Javier sighs audibly into the receiver. “Steve, just tell me where the fuck you are, I’ll come get you.”
“I wouldn’t wanna interrupt your night, Javi. She’s there withya now, yeah? Just can’t keep ya hands’way,” Steve accuses, tone dripping venom across the line.
The covers slide down Javier’s waist as he sits up, free hand tousling his hair in irritation. “Steve, I’ll only offer one more time and then you’re on your own. Where are you?”
There’s a short pause in reply, Javier releasing a breath he didn’t realise he was holding when Steve finally concedes. “I’m at that bar three blocks south of the office.”
“I’ll be there in 10,” Javier replies, jumping out from under the covers as he hangs up. His first couple of steps are a bit of a stumble, but he quickly recovers, body slowly pulling itself out from its deep slumber.
He slides on yesterday’s work clothes haphazardly strewn across the room from the night’s earlier activities, detaching a pair of hot pink panties stuck to the zipper of his jeans. Leaving a note on the kitchen counter in case his guest awakes, Peña grabs his keys and moves out the door.
He just hopes he gets to his partner before some drunk sicario grows a pair and decides to fuck around with a DEA agent.
The even beeps of the disconnect tone ring out in his ear. Steve blinks, slowly, brain taking a few extra seconds to catch-up. His eyes don’t focus, staring at everything and nothing all at once. Shapes spin around him, a blurred mess of sound and colour as he sways in place. How many drinks had he had? More than the number of fingers on his hands. And toes, for that matter.
Clumsily, he attempts to place the phone back on its hook, missing by a mile and watching helplessly as it falls, and falls, and falls, only to snag on its chord. He leaves it there, frowning at the fact his hands aren’t listening to his instructions. Honestly, he’s shocked he even managed to dial Peña’s number with how little motor control he has.
Moving out from the phone booth, he takes one step, two steps, three steps, right before his whole world flips upside-down, body flushing head-to-toe. He can’t feel his legs – did he have legs to start with? Steve groans, flopping down onto the curb as his head falls into his hands. His palms press firmly against his eyes to just make everything stay goddamn still.
He doesn’t know how long he sits there. Javier said 10 minutes, right? It feels like an eternity. His stomach flips as though it’s performing a full fucking acrobatics routine, every minute spent battling the bile rising in the back of his throat and the sour taste stinging his tongue. Steve groans in pain again, dry heaving as a particularly nauseating dizzy-spell overcomes him.
Never in his life did he believe he would associate Javier fucking Peña, the biggest asshole in Bogota, with the image of a guardian angel. But there his angelic voice rings out above him…followed by a rough slap to the back of his head.
“Jesus, Steve, did you drink the entire bar? You look like actual dog shit,” Peña so kindly points out, face twisted in disgust at the state of his partner. The smell alone radiating from the sorry-excuse of a DEA agent could knock even Pablo Escobar out cold.
“You’re a fucking dick, Javi,” Steve mumbles, rubbing the hand-shaped imprint stinging the back of his head.
Javier sighs, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out a smoke. It sits comfortably between his lips, a familiar weight easing his irritation. “And you are the reincarnation of a sewer. Get the fuck up off the curb, Murphy,” he says, flicking his lighter until a pleasant puff of smoke fills his lungs. The nicotine is quick to hit his system and the persistent itch crawling beneath his skin finally dulls.
Steve thinks about how he can’t currently feel his legs. How high off the ground he would have to get to be standing. The thought alone is enough to make him groan.
Javier, rolling his eyes, steps in front of the blonde and squats down to his level. Hazy eyes stare back at him, only blinking in discomfort as he breathes out his last drag of smoke right into Steve’s face. His partner is a dark void, drowning in loss and loneliness, and Javier doesn’t know if he can ever forgive Connie for leaving Steve like this.
He drops the butt of his smoke to the ground, grinding it out under his shoe. “You’re pathetic,” he grumbles with no bite behind his words, threading his arms beneath Steve’s armpits, “you going to help me out here or make me do all the work?”
Steve hums in reply, letting Javier hoist him back up onto his feet. It isn’t graceful – they nearly topple over three times before he finds his footing. Steve sways in place, grip knuckle-white on Peña’s forearms which root him to the ground. Said man shoots him a grin, pleased at their success – it’s the little wins, really. Steve smiles back.
Then vomits all over him.
“I said I was fucking sorry, Javi. Jesus, what doya wanme to do, huh?” Steve slurs, head bumping against the window’s glass in-time to the potholes they’re hitting. He can’t be certain if Javier’s doing it on purpose – a glance left suggests he might be, taking note of the stiffly set jaw and permanent frown etched into his partner’s features. “Hey Javi, you actually got a little something there…” he mumbles, sitting up for a moment to reach out and pick a chunk from the other’s moustache.
A hand swats him away, sharp, and unforgiving.
“Yeah, I’m so fucking concerned about the fucking vomit on my face when I have your vomit covering me fucking head to fucking toe right now, Murphy,” Javier rants, words too fast for Steve to keep-up with in his current state.
All that registers is that Peña is seriously pissed-off, and that he’s pissed off with him specifically. The blonde backs off, raising both hands up in a sign of surrender.
Silence stretches on until Steve cracks under the tension first. Messing with the buttons and dials on Javier’s dash, he ignores the nasty side-eye shot his way that would have even Carrillo thinking twice. The atmosphere between them is thick enough to slice, but soon Steve has Salsa music filling the car, and he sure as hell doesn’t miss the upwards twitch at the corner of Javier’s lips.
Even though this place continues to put them through hell and back, he knew Colombia had won over his partner’s heart. If not Colombia, he thinks to himself, then certainly it’s whores.
Javier screeches across the building’s driveway, pulling into the garage none-too-gently. Killing the engine, his palms press hard against his eyes for a moment, letting out a sigh of exhaustion. The time mockingly blinks up at him from the dash.
4:05 am.
Glancing right, he notes Steve passed out against the door, a spot of drool hanging from his open mouth. He curses the blonde under his breath – heated Spanish – offended the bastard would dare get some sleep while robbing him of his own. Unforgivingly, he slams the car door as he hops out, feeling only marginally better when Steve jolts abruptly awake.
Javier is still making his way around the car when the idiot decides to fling his own door open too, hopping out. Predictably, he completely misses his footing, going face-first into the hard concrete below. A pained ‘fuck!’ has Javier picking up his pace.
“Jesus, Steve, you couldn’t wait two fucking seconds?” he chastises, hoisting the other up off his face. Lightly, he presses his fingers to the blonde’s nose, checking to see if he’d broken any bones.
“I’m fine, Javi, can’t feel my stupid face anyway,” Steve assures him, batting the annoying hand away. What he wouldn’t tell Peña was that he could, very much in fact, feel his face. And that it hurt like a fucking bitch.
“You’re going to be the death of me, Murphy,” Peña grumbles, fingers pressing into his forehead before he wraps an arm around Steve’s waist, pulling one of Steve’s arms over his shoulder. With a grunt, he has his partner up and off another floor, stumbling him into their apartment building.
If he accidentally slams his partner into the side of the doorframe on the way in? Well, thankfully, no one’s there to see it.
They’ve made it into the building’s foyer after what Peña would recount to be a considerably painful journey. Steve, the lucky bastard, probably won’t remember a goddamn thing. He would make damn sure the blonde had every second recounted to him in detail so that he, too, could suffer at least a fraction of the pain he’s putting Javier through now.
Peña’s train-of-thought is cut short as an especially off-balance Murphy nearly topples them right over, again. His partner is looking curiously at the staircase before them, head tilted slightly to the right as though it’s some complex puzzle.
“Javi, can we just go to your apartment?” Steve asks, swallowing down the bile that had begun rising in his throat at the sight of the stairs.
Javier raises an eyebrow at him, and Steve could swear he sees his cheeks flush a little. “I actually have someone already occupying my apartment tonight,” he says, clearing his throat mid-sentence.
Steve doesn’t like the way his stomach twists at those words, as though he’d just been punched in the gut. “So, you did actually ditch me tonight to fuck some chick,” he replies with a fake teasing tone. He couldn’t even bring himself to feel any sense of victory over the way Javier’s neck and ears flush red.
“Shut up and move, Murphy.”
The reality of having to hike it up the stairs comes crashing down all at once and he looks at Peña with warning in his eyes. “I can’t promise I won’t vomit again,” he says, a serious note to his voice.
Steve does indeed vomit again. Halfway up the staircase, all over both their shoes. But Javier finds the real trouble begins at the final three steps.
It’s at this point, so close to the top, that Steve proclaims he’s ‘just so frickin’ tired, Javi’ and that he ‘just needs to rest for a second’. Next thing he knows, he’s half-dropping Steve down onto the steps and watching as the blonde shuts his eyes without a second’s hesitation…drifting straight off to sleep.
“Steve, shit, what do you think you’re playing at here? Get up!” Peña growls, slapping Murphy lightly on the cheek before escalating to using full force. Unresponsive – the fucker doesn’t even flinch. “You have got to be kidding me,” he laments, kicking Steve’s leg for good measure.
The blonde rests peacefully against the wall, mouth falling open once again as an arm or leg twitches every-so-often. Javier is stumped for what to do, hands fisting his hair in distress. How the hell was he going to get his 6ft tall, lanky-ass partner up the stairs?
Not-very-gracefully, was apparently the answer. Grabbing both of Steve’s arms, Javier yanks him upwards, cringing when the blonde’s head flops back and hits the second-last step.
“Don’t you dare slide down these stairs now, Murphy,” he mutters, voice strained from the effort. Puffing, sweating, and severely sleep-deprived, Peña manages to drag the idiot into the apartment.
Unceremoniously, he drops the last of Steve’s body weight onto the hardwood floors, not giving a second thought at the sound of his skull smacking the ground. A groan of protest follows, the brunette raising an eyebrow as Steve’s eyes scrunch up in pain before blearily blinking open.
“Oh, now you decide to wake up,” Peña sighs, wrist flicking on his lighter as his body hunches over the flame. He takes a long drag from the fresh cigarette perched between his teeth, savouring the taste of smoke curling along his tongue. Tonight was just too much for him to deal with right now. “This is the last fucking time I do this for you, Murphy, you hear me? From now on, your drunk-ass is on its own.”
The distinction between Steve’s face scrunched in pain and Steve’s face scrunched in anger is minimal. Peña notices it, nonetheless.
“Fuck you, Peña, my fucking wife left,” he bites back, grunting as he pulls himself up into a sitting position.
Javier’s had enough of Steve’s bullshit, and taking another long drag, he retaliates with just as much fight. “Maybe your wife fucking left because she had to deal with this goddamn bullshit all the time!”
It’s unfortunate how quickly he regrets those words. Almost as quickly as how the fire lighting Steve’s face fizzles out to anguish.
“Shit,” Javier mutters, taking one puff, two puffs of his smoke, before moving to sit down next to the heap of sadness on the floor, “I’m sorry, Steve, I took that too far.”
The blonde immediately rests his head on Javier’s shoulder, hand taking the cigarette offered his way. Both men listen to the sound of him take in a lungful, the words spoken hanging heavy in the air around them.
“You’re not wrong, Javi. I’m a fucking mess, I know,” Steve sighs with his next breath out, pausing to take another drag before continuing, “I’m trying, okay?”
Javier’s heart drops at the softness of his voice, as though Steve had only meant to mutter that last part to himself. A private thought, too fragile for anyone else to hear right now. He wraps a comforting arm around Steve’s shoulder, taking the cigarette back to finish it off. He doesn’t say anything when a few damp drops land on his shoulder, right below where Steve’s head is resting.
“Let’s get you cleaned up.”
Somehow, they manage to make it to the bathroom. Steve sits atop the toilet, body swaying side-to-side in time to the spinning room – or the room he believes to be spinning, anyway. Javier stands in front of him, eyes tracking his movements, only glancing away every few moments to re-focus on the buttons of Steve’s shirt. He gets them all undone in what Steve classes as record time, making some joke about how well-practiced he was at removing other people’s clothes.
“Hey, wow, wow, easy on the zipper!” Steve warns when Javier’s hands roughly tug at his jeans, “that’s precious merchandise right there.” He earns himself a harsh glare from the brunette before his pants are roughly pulled right off.
“Why so worried? I thought you said I was well-practiced,” Javier quotes, one-eyebrow raised as he bites back a smirk. He takes a step back from Steve, beginning to shimmy out of his own clothes – figures he might as well shower too since he also reeks of vomit.
Steve’s head falls back against the cool-tiled wall, alcohol-flushed body sighing at the contact. He raises his eyebrows up at his partner, slurring out, “Yeah, with chicks Jav’. There’s some extra shit down there for us guys in case you forgot.”
His eyelids are too heavy to keep fully open, so they droop half-closed, but he still catches the odd look Peña throws his way – shit, guess his partner really does sleep with all his informants then. That’s a little nugget of information he’ll unpack another day, Steve thinks.
Javier, endless plains of tanned skin standing before him in only his boxers, holds out a hand for Steve to grab onto. How can he focus on the hand when it’s attached to all that? – oh those were some feelings he thought he’d managed to bury deep long ago…
“Come on, shower time Murphy,” Peña interrupts, tugging the other up onto wobbly legs and herding the blonde under the spray of hot water. Seemingly lost in thought, his partner moves with him on auto-pilot.
Steve presses both palms into the tiles before him to keep his balance, letting Peña tug him whichever way needed as he scrubs the smell of vomit from his skin. This is actually really nice, he thinks, allowing the sensation of hot water and Peña’s hands to loosen up his tense muscles. He really hasn’t had this much physical contact from anyone since, well, since Connie left.
A particularly good press of Javier’s skilled fingers into a deep knot that’s been bothering him for weeks has Steve moaning.
“Jesus, Murphy, save it for the bedroom,” Javier teases, muttering to himself more than anything as Steve seems to be too lost in the pleasure of getting a free back massage.
“Fuck, Javi, no wonder you’re so popular with the ladies, your hands are magical,” Steve slurs out, head leaning back into the hand scratching through his wet hair.
Peña laughs at that, giving Murphy a playful slap upside the head for his comment. “You’re an idiot, Murphy,” he mumbles, frowning when the blonde shoos his hands away and spins around in his arms to face him.
“No seriously, lemme try it on you, ‘feels great,” Steve slurs, hands moving up behind Javier’s head to scratch through his hair. He watches as the apprehension melts from his face, tense jaw and scrunched brows completely relaxing under his touch.
“Shit, that really is magical,” Peña groans, eyelids fluttering shut as Steve’s fingers move along his scalp.
Steve’s still a bit too drunk to be worried about how the sound Javier just made coils a low warmth in his belly. Peña looks fucking hot like this, he thinks to himself, eyes tracing along Javier’s slightly-parted lips to the water trickling across his sharp-cut jaw, and down down down that vast expanse of tanned neck he really just wants to attach his lips to right now…
“Steve, my eyes are up here,” Peña hums, drawing Steve’s gaze back to his face. Except, Steve’s eyes don’t really seem to focus. It’s as though they’re looking right through Peña – or looking at him as though he were a piece of meat.
He takes a step back as Murphy steps forwards, crowding his space. Then another step back, and another, until Javier jumps at the cool tiles pressing against his flushed skin. Steve is looming over him, has him caged in, and he can only hold his breath as the blonde leans in, heart jumping into his throat.
For a moment, he seriously thinks Murphy is going to kiss him. Right then and there, hidden amongst the steam. He can feel the heavy breath from Murphy’s mouth brushing across his own lips, stained with the musk of alcohol. Time stops, and Javier wonders if that was Steve’s intention – to kiss him that is, because instead Steve’s head comes crashing down against his shoulder as his body sags against him.
He nearly drops the blonde from the sudden weight, barely catching his partner who has passed-out cold.
Javier wrestles Steve’s dead-weight down onto the shower’s floor, releasing the breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding once his partner is safely slumped against the ground. Unconsciously, his fingers trace the phantom touch Steve’s breath had left against his lips, before noticing what he’s doing and snapping his hand up to run through his hair instead.
Had Steve really been about to kiss him?
He lets out a shaky breath as his cheeks flush red, feeling like a kid caught stealing candy in a store. For the third time tonight he’s pressing his palms against his eyes, cursing under his breath. The way Steve had looked at him…it had lit his skin on fire. He could feel a strong flush creeping up the back of his neck just thinking about it.
This wasn’t right, Steve was his partner – you don’t act like this with your partner. Not to mention the guy was straight, wasn’t he? He’s married to Connie, who is a woman – so why was he looking at him like that? The hunger in Steve’s eyes flashes back in his mind, sending heat to his groin, and Javier bites back a groan.
Fuck Steve Murphy for turning this night into a massive fucking shit-show when he had a beautiful Bogota woman warming his bed downstairs right now.
A firm hand rests against Javier’s neck, making the brunette jump, head shooting up from where it’s buried in his hands. A pair of bloodshot, barely-open eyes squint up at him, Steve apparently awake once again.
“Javi, are you alright?” Steve asks, voice soft as his thumb flicks across his partner’s wild pulse. He pauses, frowning as he takes note at where he’s currently sat. “Why am I on the floor?”
Peña looks at Steve. Really looks at him. Tries to see through his clouded-gaze, see if anything else is lurking there beneath it. All he sees is his usual pain-in-the-ass partner looking back at him, confused, as though he had no clue as to why Peña was having a mini-crisis.
Pinching his brow, Javier replies, “I’m fine, Murphy. Can you get up off the ground? It’s time we got you to bed.”
He decides to chalk-up whatever just happened to a deadly mix of alcohol and loneliness. Steve is just having an off night – nothing more. The blonde would be too drunk to remember any of this in the morning anyway.
It isn’t long before Javier has them both dried with a fresh pair of boxers on (he needed to borrow a set from Steve). Now, pushing his still-unsteady partner out of the bathroom, he guides the blonde towards his own bed.
“Murphy, there were moments tonight I didn’t think I’d get you back to your apartment, but miraculously, here we are,” he sighs, moving the blonde to flop right down onto the mattress.
Steve only grunts in reply, happily letting himself be pushed around by his guardian angel.
His head is stuffed with cotton so he doesn’t fight as Peña fusses over him. He feels his wet hair being pushed back from his eyes and warm covers being dragged over him, tucked in at the edges – it’s nice, really. Having someone here, looking after him. He hates being alone, dreads coming home to the still, empty house after work each night, and he realises that he doesn’t want Peña to leave right now.
“Javi,” he calls to the retreating figure, using his last ounce of consciousness and strength to push himself half-up out of the bed.
Peña looks at Steve. Desperate, pleading eyes look back at him. It’s the most alert he’s seen the man all night, fear and loneliness swirling into a hazy storm behind that piercing gaze. That exact look reminds him of his own demons, haunting him whenever there isn’t another body there to fill his bed.
He drops his head, scratching at his chin in contemplation. When he looks up again, locking eyes with Steve, he can only shake his head softly with a sigh, heading back into the centre of the room. “Just this fucking once Steve, alright? And only because I can see how badly you need this. No getting all cuddly and shit though, okay?”
Steve is overjoyed as Javier climbs into the bed, getting settled under the covers. He’s quick to break the only rule that had been set, immediately rolling towards the brunette and throwing an arm over his front, pulling Javier’s back flush against his chest. Ignoring the grunt of surprise, he buries his face against the warm skin of his partner’s neck, breathing out a happy hum of delight.
He smiles against the quickened-pace of Javier’s pulse as he lets out on onslaught of complaints, cursing Steve in a mumbled-mess of Spanish. Peña spends a good few minutes trying to fight the blonde off him, but Steve is latched on with an unbreakable grip, strong forearm pinned across his front and a long leg threaded between his own.
“G’night Jav’,” Steve mumbles into Peña’s neck, giving a small grin at the goosebumps that fan out down the other’s arms. Once again, he doesn’t have much time to think about that reaction as he finds himself succumbing to sleep.
Steve can’t remember the last time he dozed off so quickly.
Peña scrunches his nose. He has an itch. He scrunches it again, giving it a wiggle. The itch persists. Something’s tickling him. Becoming annoyed now, he peaks open an eye to investigate. His vision is clouded with sleep, blurred shapes in front of him. He tries to move his arm, wanting to give his eyes a good rub, but it’s pinned-down by something heavy.
Fighting past the sleep, he opens his eyes more. An assault of early-morning sun sets alight his nerves and he groans, scrunching them tightly shut. He tries moving his other arm, finding it’s free, and quickly brings it up to his eyes to rub away the headache forming. When he opens them fully, his vision is all hair – blonde hair, to be exact. The culprit of the itch to his nose.
He could’ve sworn he had a brunette over last night…
Images flash. The bar. The vomit. Steve’s very drunk face. Murphy. Blonde hair.
“Shit,” Peña grunts, lifting his head as far as it will go with Murphy’s weight pinning him down. He takes in his situation, spying how almost the entirety of Steve’s body is laid-across his own head to toe, having him in a death-grip. He almost feels winded, lying on his back – the fucker isn’t light.
Steve’s face is buried against his neck, now damp with drool. One lanky arm wraps up around his shoulder while a long leg is thrown completely across his waist. Javier’s head flops back down, eyebrows drawing together as he attempts to map-out the best way to extract himself from this situation.
His thoughts don’t get very far, however, as Steve’s unconscious form decides to move. It’s only a small movement, Murphy shifting his leg, but it manages to send a wave of heat through Javier’s body as he’s made painfully aware of his morning wood. It really didn’t help that Steve also takes that moment to nudge deeper into his neck, hot breathe puffing out across a particularly sensitive spot.
Javier stifles a groan with his free hand by biting his knuckle, focusing all his will power into not bucking up his hips. “Fuck Murphy, you son-of-a-bitch,” he mutters, attempting to gather his thoughts and re-focus his efforts back into his escape plan.
He doesn’t even get a second.
Murphy mumbles something incoherent in his sleep, vibrations sending goosebumps across Javier’s skin. Then he shifts, again. Pulling himself up more onto Javier’s chest until their hips brush together, stirring a low heat in his groin. And now Peña is very aware that Murphy has the same situation going on as he does.
He bites his lip, muscles tense, mumbling a breathless curse into the mess of blonde hair. He really needs to get out of this situation, like, right now.
Scrunching his eyes shut, brows drawing together in concentration, he takes a grounding breath. Huffing, he attempts to wriggle out of Steve’s grip, arms trying to push the blonde away as his legs and hips push up to throw the other off.
It, unfortunately, doesn’t have the desired effect. Quite the opposite, in fact.
Murphy actually moans, right by his ear. His hips meet Javier’s movement, purposefully grinding down as his lips suck at the sensitive spot on Javier’s neck.
Peña can only curse, choking down a groan at the heat ignited in his body. He can’t stop himself bucking up against the blonde this time, head falling back and mouth falling open at the spikes of pleasure that run up his spine. Murphy, mouthing his way up to nibble at Peña’s ear, shamelessly moans again as he continues to rut against him.
A hand threads around the base of Javier’s neck, tugging lightly at his hair, and a knee slides up between his legs, pressing right against his bulge. Now, he really can’t stop a moan slipping past his lips.
“Fuck, Steve, what the fuck are you doing?” he asks, voice cracking halfway as his partner mouths across his jaw.
“Dunno what you’re on about, Jav’,” Steve replies, words ghosting across Javier’s lips as he hovers right over him. He looks down at his partner, memorising the flush of his cheeks, the way his chest rises and falls with soft pants leaving parted lips. Who knows when he’ll ever get to see this heavenly image again?
Hazy brown eyes stare back at him, a mix of confusion and lust, flicking sporadically between Steve’s eyes and Steve’s lips. He grins, grinding down against Javier again to see the way his face twists in pleasure, eyebrows knitting together as teeth bite into his lower lip.
He leans in closer, lips brushing lightly against Peña’s, a hairs-breadth away. “I wanna hear you, baby,” Steve breathes against him, and Javier absolutely melts, nodding mindlessly.
Murphy grinds his hips again, and Peña can’t help but meet his request, letting out a loud moan of pleasure. It’s swallowed up by Murphy’s mouth as the blonde captures his lips with a grin, devouring Javier’s breathless murmurs.
The kiss is sloppy – they’re both still half-asleep, but they make it work. It’s all full lips and loose tongues, open-mouths pressed together in a wet and heated mess.
Steve loves the way Javier feels beneath him, body going pliant under his touch. He nips at the other’s lip, brushing their noses together as he properly settles his body between Javier’s legs. Now, when they grind together, the angle is perfection, electricity filling the air around them. Javier’s hands explore down his sides, gripping tightly onto his hips to pull them even closer, flush together – if that’s even possible.
They only pause when their lungs burn for air, breaking apart to gulp down oxygen as their breaths mix between them. Steve leans his forehead against Peña’s, immediately swallowed-up by deep, mesmerising eyes. The morning light catches a string of drool connecting their bruised lips and he smiles with a gentle laugh.
Unfortunately, the pause seems to bring some sense of coherency back to Peña, and Murphy feels the grip on his hips tighten ever-so-slightly. “Murphy,” Javier pants into the space between them, “what the actual fuck?”
Steve raises his eyebrows in feigned innocence, placing a sweet kiss to the tip of Javier’s nose, then lips, then lips again. He just can’t get enough.
“Seriously man, aren’t you straight? Fuck, married?” Javier continues, concentration breaking a little as Steve’s kisses continue travelling south. First his neck, then down his collarbone, across his chest, a playful nip to his nipple, tongue trailing along stomach…
He gives a gentle slap to Murphy’s head, fingers threading through the blond locks quickly after to tug gently as Murphy’s teeth nip at the waistband of his boxers.
“I don’t think anyone is straight when it comes to you, Jav’,” Steve hums, lustful eyes staring up at Peña from under heavy lashes. The look is questioning – asking permission.
Javier stares down at his partner. He bites his lips, trying to have a single coherent thought, to evaluate if this is a good idea – failing, he can only nod. He’s at the mercy of his lust. Always has been. Always dove head-first into danger thinking with his dick.
Steve’s fingers hook into the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down and quickly tossing them aside. Peña hisses as the cool air hits his flushed cock, groaning in relief at finally being free from the restraining confines of fabric. He lifts himself up onto his elbows, taking in the sight of Steve between his legs – lips swollen, hair an unruly mess, eyes dark with lust at the sight of Javier bared-naked before him.
“Shit, Jav’, you’re gorgeous,” he mumbles, nipping the inside of Javier’s thighs as he throws the other’s legs over his shoulders.
The blonde moves closer, hot breath tickling the tip of his cock which twitches in anticipation. Peña can only watch, heart caught in his throat as Steve swipes a wet, long lick from base-to-tip, swallowing him down in one go. Falling back into the mattress, he lets out a pleasured moan, eyes screwing shut.
Murphy hums around his cock in reply, vibrations making Peña jolt as they travel all the way up his spine. He feels the way Steve hollows out his cheeks, sucking him off as he sets an experimental pace, bobbing his head up and down. Up and down.
Javier’s hands don’t take long to find Murphy’s hair again, tugging gently in encouragement whenever Steve uses a particularly pleasurable technique. His body is tense, hips bucking up to meet Murphy’s mouth, letting out a pleased hum when he’s roughly pinned back down to the bed. Steve pulls off his cock for a moment, nipping playfully at his balls before teasing the tip of his cock with his tongue.
“Should’ve known you like a bit of man-handling, Peña,” he comments, voice smug as he roughly slaps a hand against the outside of Javier’s thigh. The delicious groan that elicits has Steve seeking friction against the mattress for his own hard-on.
Javier’s flushed face stares down at him, brain seeming to process Steve’s words at a snail’s pace with his blood all located south. Steve raises an eyebrow at him, and when Javier finally opens his mouth to retaliate, he quickly cuts him off by sinking his mouth back down onto his cock.
Peña’s words are lost in a string of mumbled Spanish curses, digging his nails into Murphy’s scalp. “Fuck, Steve, I’m gonna fucking cum if you keep this up,” he huffs, breaths becoming more sporadic as he feels the heat coiling low in his belly, “Murphy, shit, seriously.”
Steve gives one last, hard suck before pulling off with a wet pop, roughly pushing Javier’s legs off his shoulders before crawling back up to bite and suck at his lips. Peña moans against him, shoving his tongue deep down Murphy’s throat.
He’s so distracted by Peña’s skilful tongue that he doesn’t notice the hand sneaking between their bodies, into his boxers. His head drops to Javier’s shoulder as his partner grips his neglected cock, thumb circling around the tip teasingly.
“Fuck, baby,” Steve moans, drawing out each word. Sucking at his partner’s neck, he spills curses into the salty-skin as Javier begins stroking him languidly.
Peña grins as Murphy falls apart in his hold, twisting his wrist at the top of each stroke just right to get the blonde shuddering under his touch. Soon, he’s demanding that Steve take his boxers off too.
Steve doesn’t hesitate, quickly stripping down until he’s as bare-naked as Javier. His forehead presses urgently against the brunette’s again as he takes-in the sensation of having Javier’s hand back around his cock. Lifting his head up slightly so he can fully see Javier’s face, he thrusts forwards into his partner’s grip, biting his lip. Steve brings one hand up to cup Javier’s jaw, thumb pressing against the other’s lips which eagerly part to suck him into his mouth.
God, how he wishes those lips were stretched and choking around his cock instead.
“I want to fuck you,” Steve mumbles, smirking when Peña moans around his thumb at the thought, “I want to fuck you so hard into this mattress, you feel it for days after.”
Javier stares back at him, and after a few tense seconds of consideration, nods.
Steve grins, pulling away and hopping off the bed to quickly delve into his cupboard. Javier watches the blonde, soaking up the sight of Murphy’s naked form moving around the room. Eyes glued to his perky ass, he takes himself in his grip, humming softly as he thrusts lazily up into his own hand.
It isn’t long before Murphy’s warmth is re-joining him back in the bed, hands tearing open and slipping on a condom before twisting open a bottle of lube. Carelessly, he throws one of Peña’s legs up over his shoulder, circling a cool, slick digit around Javier’s entrance who jumps at the temperature.
Steve leans forwards to capture his lips in a sweet kiss, pecking his nose before resting their foreheads together once again. “Just relax, baby, I’ve got you,” he mumbles, slowly pressing his finger past his partner’s entrance until he’s all the way in up to his knuckle. Feeling Javier relax around him, he’s quick to add a second finger, moving them around to loosen him right up.
“That’s it, Jav’, you’re being so good for me baby,” Murphy encourages, careful to watch Javier’s features for any signs of discomfort. He takes note of the way Peña’s cock jumps at the praise, and thankfully, all he sees is blissed-out pleasure strewn across his partner’s face.
“Steve, fuck, please,” Javier pants, rolling his hips down onto the blonde’s fingers.
Not one to deny Javier anything, Steve pushes in a third digit, crooking them in just the right way to have the brunette spasming around him. The moan Peña lets out as Steve angles for that spot again is downright sinful, and no doubt its memory will become a new feature during his own private-sessions.
He leans down to the shell of Javier’s ear, nipping lightly at the skin. “I want to hear you beg for it,” he breathes, voice-strained as he pulls all three fingers out, pressing the head of his cock up against Javier’s entrance instead.
Peña looks up at him, hands desperately gripping his hips, pupils blown wide with lust. “Murphy, please fuck me,” he pleads, voice absolutely ruined and heavy with want.
Murphy doesn’t need to be told twice.
He pushes in, moving slow to give time for Peña to adjust to his size, having to bite down onto his partner’s shoulder to restrain himself from absolutely railing him. Javier doesn’t hold back with the Spanish curses, eyes fluttering shut at the sensation at finally, finally, being full. He taps Murphy’s shoulder, and with that signal, the blonde pulls back out to the tip, before losing all restraint and slamming right back in – burying himself balls deep.
They both moan, cursing loudly. Steve re-captures Javier’s lips as he fucks into his partner, setting a strong, rhythmic pace hitting right into Javier’s sweet spot.
Peña hooks his free leg around the blonde’s waist, lifting his hips up to meet the other’s thrusts until the angle is deeper, faster, harder. His nails scrape down Murphy’s back as he bites Murphy’s lower lip hard enough to draw blood. Warmth is coiling low in his stomach, and a pleasurable spark jolts through him as Steve brings a hand up to wrap around his throat, placing a firm grip to the sides of his neck.
It's perfect. His head feels light, and the pleasure intensifies. Steve’s thrusts become less controlled as they both begin losing themselves.
“Steve, shit, I’m gonna–,” Javier starts, but is cut off by Steve’s breathless reply of “me too.”
Javier feels himself tip over the edge, letting out a strangled groan as fire ignites throughout his body. Pleasure contracts in his muscles, body shaking from the overwhelming heat as he sees stars. He hears Murphy groan against his ear, the blonde’s thrusts sharp and short as he encases Javier with his body, breath fanning out hot and heavy across his skin.
They ride out their orgasms together, soaking up every last second of pleasure. Only once they’ve both come down from their highs do they still for a few moments, Steve moving both arms around to wrap Javier in a tight hug as he captures his lips in a passionate kiss. Peña’s hands run through Steve’s already-messy hair, somehow messing it up even more, until he has to pull away, breathless.
They stare at each other, faces flushed, chests panting – and then Steve’s pulling out and away from Javier.
He stands from the bed, removing and tying off the condom, chucking it away into the trash can at the other corner of the room. His eyes soak-up the sight of an utterly-fucked out Peña, an arm thrown haphazardly across his eyes with his limbs strewn out in all directions, shameless. He notes the streaks of white cum contrasting against the delicious tanned-skin, swallowing hungrily at the thought of tasting the man.
Ducking into the en suite, he grabs a hand towel, crawling back onto the bed and up between Peña’s legs. The brunette lifts the arm from his eyes, blinking down at Murphy. His mouth falls open at the sight of Steve swiping a finger across his stomach, mouth closing around Javier’s cum dripping from his finger with obscenely wet noises.
Steve groans at the taste, almost wishing he’d finished Javier with the blow-job just so he could’ve swallowed it all down. Using the towel, he wipes-up the rest of the sticky mess from Javier’s stomach, crawling up to lay on Peña's chest after. One of Javier’s hands automatically move up to comb fingers through his hair, and he hums in delight, listening to the relaxed beat of his heart beneath him.
Peña’s thoroughly fucked-out voice was the first to break the silence, strained from over-use, “Murphy, shit, that was amazing. I don’t think I’ve cum that hard in my life.”
Steve laughs at that, tracing a hand down one of Peña’s arms until he reaches his hand, threading together their fingers. “You look fucking gorgeous when you cum, Javi,” he mumbles sleepily in reply, exhaustion filling his body as the adrenaline seeps-away.
Peña hums, taking on a tone that Steve recognises as his brain thinking a million-miles a minute. He doesn’t even have to look to know the exact frown and pout his partner is sporting.
“What is it, baby?” he asks, voice soft and open.
Javier shakes his head slightly, scratching gently at the nape of Steve’s neck. “I just don’t get it – you’re married to a woman. Why the fuck would you sleep with me?”
Steve sighs, lifting himself up on Javier’s chest until he’s captured his partner’s confused gaze. Bringing a hand up to hold Javier’s jaw, he replies, “Its you, Jav. It’s always been you, from the moment I set foot in Colombia. Connie left, she walked out on our marriage – it’s only you now.”
Peña shifts, sitting up, and Steve moves to let him, resettling beside him in the bed. He reaches across Murphy to the night-stand where he’d dropped his keys last night, eyes flicking to Steve’s lips which are suddenly very close. Pulling a cigarette from his pack of smokes, he lights it, drawing back with a deep inhale of that blessed nicotine. How the fuck had this even happened? How the fuck was he here, naked, in Murphy’s bed?
Steve studies Peña, noting the heavy-set crease in his brow, tight jaw, pursed lips. Reaching across, he plucks the cigarette from Javier’s lips, raising his brows at the glare sent his way – never get between Peña and his smoke.
Taking a long drag, he holds the tarred air in his lungs for a few seconds, gripping Peña’s jaw hard enough to force it open before blowing the smoke back into his mouth. Peña’s stern look seems to melt, and he pushes forward, hungrily devouring Murphy’s lips. It’s only brief, and Murphy feels too-soon that Javier is pulling back and moving to take a drag from the cigarette still perched between his fingers. He watches as his plump lips wrap around the tip, drawing in a breath, dick twitching in interest at the sight – the fucking tease.
Javier stares at him, or more accurately, studies him. He drops his head, shaking it a little as he scratches his chin, looking up again. “What the fuck am I getting myself into,” he mumbles, more to himself than to Steve, shuffling over enough to lay back in Murphy’s arms.
Steve doesn’t hesitate in wrapping himself tightly around the brunette, grinning from ear-to-ear as they continued sharing the cigarette, passing it wordlessly between themselves.
“Should we have a shower?” Javier asks, eyes looking up behind him towards the blonde.
Murphy gently presses a kiss to the top of Peña’s head. “Can we just stay here like this for a little longer?” he mumbles into Javier’s hair, voice soft as the exhaustion seeps into his bones.
Javier nods, interlocking their fingers and bringing Murphy’s hand up to his lips, pressing a light kiss against his knuckles.
Murphy’s heart flutters at the contact, and he already knows he’s fallen so fucking hard that if Javier were to ever leave him like Connie did, he really wouldn’t ever recover.
Fin.