#Javilina

[furious-rogue-stuff]

Heat Chapter 43: Still

I apologize for the long hiatus! Hopefully this chapter makes up for the delay in posting 😊 This is the longest chapter to date, so sorry in advance!

Pairing: Javier Peña x OFC | Javi x Querida

Disclaimer: Written in 2nd person narrative, you can safely assume our heroine and love/lust interest is a Latina, written by a Latina. Here's my philosophy on my writing, for further context.

Rating: Mature/Explicit 🔞

Word Count: 28,000+

Summary: As you try to achieve peace in your personal life, you find yourself struggling against melancholy and self-reproach during an important anniversary. When all you want is for time to stand still, can you find serenity with Javier in the emotional chaos?

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of sex, including masturbation and unprotected sex. Mentions of raunchy sexual acts, grieving, melancholy, toxic coping mechanisms, and loneliness. Descriptions of power play, praise kink, and dirty talk. Allusions to mourning, family strife, foreboding threats, and emotional angst. Some Protective!Javi, Dom! Javi, Boss!Javi, Sub!Reader. In the vein of Narcos being a bilingual show, and Javier Peña being fluent, I felt it was apropos to include Spanglish and Spanish throughout.

Heat Masterlist

Previous chapter - Chapter 42: Reflection

Chapter 43: Still

There had been a time, not so long ago, that you'd made peace with being alone.

It was mostly subconscious – the idea that you weren't on the same track as everyone else, but after you'd left Puerto Rico at the end of that summer, you'd felt like a different person than the one who'd reluctantly arrived from graduating college. If forced to articulate it, you would've struggled to decompartmentalize everything enough to be able to adequately represent why you'd felt different.

Even after years of working and building your professional life, you'd seldom let new people into your personal one. When you'd worked in the New York offices of the State Department, you'd always spend your free time with Irina and Sasha. And during your brief stint at the Washington D.C. offices, you'd kept to yourself, only making superficial connections with some of the other clerical staffers; making acquaintances you kept at arm's length.

You'd avoided dating during that period especially, feeling lonely but settled. Once you'd volunteered for the placement at the U.S. embassy in Bogotá, the protective bubble you'd crafted for yourself ebbed away by the time you'd settled down in the Colombian capital.

It helped to feel in a familiar, yet different place. But mostly, with your mother's side of the family being so accessible, you'd been able to soften more to the idea of a life shared pleasantly with others.

Ellis had worn you down – quickly going from the annoying gringo you shared an office corner with to a very close confidante and dear friend. Thanks to his congenial wife, they eventually dragged you out to be more social, and soon you felt like a normal, single, professional woman in a big city that still felt homey and sheltering. You dated, but nothing serious that ever lasted more than a few outings – or sleepovers at their place – and you had no qualms about keeping yourself guarded from being truly courted by anyone.

Just when you'd finally felt confident in your space and accomplished with yourself, you'd ended up staring when a cool, ridiculously handsome guy had crossed your field of vision one afternoon while you'd sat with the building's cleaning ladies during lunch at one of the gazebos facing the path leading into the building's back entry.

You'd looked over at the building in mid-answer to something Marisol had quipped, and saw Javier striding down a couple of steps to stop someone and chat. He had on aviator sunglasses, the kind with the amber-tinted lenses, dark hair combed with a side-part that was practically non-existent with how his unruly hair curled about in thick tufts. His tall muscularly built torso filled out the tropical blue button-down shirt while his brawny arms crossed over his strong chest as he nodded along listening to the other person he was conversing with. You were tantalized by the ratio of his broad shoulders to narrow hips, and how those dark grayish Levi's jeans seemed tailored to his strong long legs and perfect tush. He seemed almost unreal – a throwback to a handsome 70's stud you could've only daydreamed about.

Gaze lingering on him, you'd been thankful that you were far away enough to be able to stare from the safe distance, and ask Marisol, "Who is that?"

Marisol and the girls had looked over and exchanged varying snickers, and girlish giggles, before the older woman chimed knowingly, "Oh, that is one of the agentes de la DEA. Has made quite a reputation for himself, eh, girls?"

You couldn't get over how handsome he was and how he looked out of place for the buttoned-up vibe of the consulate, but really what got you was how he had a jawline for days. Quickly, all your pining from afar accelerated to lust when you admired how his full lips had pulled into a wry smirk before he tipped the sunglasses down amusedly at something the other person had said, which gave you a view at the way his smile made his eyes crinkle.

Heat had radiated in the apples of your cheeks as you'd feigned aloofness before going back to the conversation, ignoring Marisol's knowing smile, with aplomb.

It'd been the first time your pulse had raced for someone since…well since a time you'd worked very hard to put behind you, so it'd given you pause.

What a silly thing. Crushing over some tight-jean-wearing, mustachioed DEA bad boy, had been your internal scoff as you'd stubbornly shelved the notion.

You hadn't expected for said crush for the roguish agent to become even more concrete from afar after witnessing him leaving to some kind of raid one late afternoon.

He'd marched confidently through the embassy lobby in his army green tac vest like a man on a mission and laser focused, none the wiser to having caught your eye. You had just come around the corner from the atrium and almost got whiplash from doing a double take, only to then end up watching him stride towards the exit in those classic-blue Levi's jeans, a light khaki-colored button-down shirt with the sleeves tapered at his muscular biceps, and his dark, unruly tufts of hair curling boyishly after they got tousled by his thick fingers absently carding through them as he stormed off.

If the woman who'd stood there, idly replaying the smirk you'd seen grace his gorgeous features prior, would've known you'd be the woman who'd gotten that swagger-rich DEA stud to fall madly in love with, let alone gun-ho about wanting to live a life together, even? That he'd forsake the trappings of his previous rakish lifestyle? And that you would end up being the woman who was now unable to see the rest of your life without him in it? You're sure your psyche would've burst into blazing sparks at trying to rationalize it all.

And when you'd woken next to him and ended up staring at his serene, sleeping features in the waxy orange veil of dawn that'd begun filling your bedroom the morning after your spectacular Valentine's Day night, the need to rationalize your feelings did not intrude into your mind or heart. Instead, you couldn't help fawn at how grateful you were to have found your way back to each other. To feeling loved and safe again – no longer content with being alone, and relieved to be free of the loneliness that had been your anesthetizing companion since you'd left your life in Colombia.

To say that the night of the double date had cemented things between you and Javi as being back on track, would've felt much too simple to properly do everything that had transpired prior and led up to it, proper justice.

At least that's what you're telling yourself after having had time to reflect back on it.

However, new worries settled in now, like knowing how much to share with the people around you who'd surely noticed the shift in your day-to-day routine and the priorities of your personal time. Of course, the usual suspects didn't worry you.

Ellis and Anita, as well as Steve and Connie obviously knew. And when you'd called to thank Zoraida for the reservation again, she'd made you divulge, telling you not to spare a salacious detail of the night. You'd been happy to do so – albeit giving her the abbreviated version of your history with Javier to date. She'd been cheekily enthralled to hear about the guy who'd be monopolizing your time, showing not a hint of umbrage when you'd scoffed and assured that you wouldn't pull a her and just disappear on a long tryst.

Hell, she'd even gone as far as to snicker to you, "Sure, like you don't plan on going missing every weekend from now on – catching up on all that fun with your papisongo!"

You trusted she'd tell the other girls so they wouldn't get too peeved with you skipping out on the group hangouts over brunch or happy hour drinks.

So, the only remaining hurdle you figured would require a finer tact around, would be your father.

Still, there was nothing you wanted to let intrude in the rekindling of your relationship now, and by the way Javier talked, his only concern was making up for lost time with you. You were more than content with that, and were committed to just going with the flow – to not putting pressure on yourself or worrying about setting expectations for things to come.

It was your time to embrace the hopeful feelings you'd taken for granted. To enjoying what you'd both missed out on prior: being together without the stigma of ominous judgment or danger.

After all, even that morning, when you had amorously kissed Javi awake, and he'd surprised you by surging out of bed to get in his running clothes as he jibed, "Rise and shine, malvadita. Let's go for this grueling jog of yours," the prospect of being seen with him out and beyond the haven of your stomping grounds? Of taking it to your professional territory by getting spotted canoodling with the DEA's Special Agent in Charge, in and around the Federal building? It made excitement bloom in your chest.

When he'd yanked his shirt over his head and eyed you challengingly, you'd ended up snickering, totally enticed by his suggestion and his debonair airs enough to toss the blanket aside as you'd climbed out of bed and hurriedly got dressed before heading out on the early morning jog route with him.

You two hadn't gotten to the elevator before running into Jodalys, who you'd go on jogs with on occasion when she wasn't going with her group of girlfriends. Your neighbor and friend had given you a conspiratorial wink of approval after you'd introduced her to Javi and parted ways at the courtyard's entry. She'd also made it a point to tell you how hot Javi was the next time you ran into her in the lobby later that evening.

But then you'd gone up to your place right after and listened to a voicemail on the answering machine from your father reminding you of the plans for Sunday, and you'd hedged on calling him back.

Later that night, when Javier had come over and you'd vivaciously taken him to bed, you'd sidled close to him after the amorous coupling, and whispered, "When should we put it out there?"

"What – us, you mean?" he'd murmured, and at your nod against his chest, he'd cupped your cheek and tipped your face up to his in the dark of the bedroom, admiring your features thanks to the scant light coming from the lamp left on in the living room. "I'll send out a memo building-wide tomorrow," had been his quip, smirking when you scoffed irreverently at the notion. "This isn't like the embassy, so, we can be as discreet or overt as we want, I think. Mercer isn't really empowered to do much, and it's not like there's any ethical conflicts of interest. We don't impact each other's departments—"

"Still, it's about keeping professional appearances and avoiding any possible HR concerns. Rumors about us aside, it's something we'd have to address, since we've rekindled things," you sheepishly muse, and at Javi humming in acknowledgement of your point, you add, "I think we'll have to disclose our relationship to Mercer, at the very least."

"Hmm, ok. It'll have to be after I come back from Santo Domingo, ideally," Javi had mused, then detailed his upcoming trip, which would coincide with the anniversary of your mother's death. "—I'm flying out Friday end of day so I can meet with the commander of the operation there and try to be back before that—"

You'd kissed his cheek, then assured, "It's ok, Javi. I…I usually spend that day by myself anyway. Just, promise to call me? So I know you're all right?"

"Of course, mi amor," he'd answered devotedly and kissed you before wrapping his arms around you after you curled into him and sighed.

You were fine with waiting. After all, the foreboding worry that had once hung over you both like the sword of Damocles was no longer there, and even with Javier traveling for work more than he'd done before, he was nowhere near the action. And with Steve overseeing the field ops on the island, you felt a keener sense of security that Javier wouldn't be hung out to dry, or end up being the heavy, or the fall guy.

The night before he was due to fly out, you'd both gone over to Steve and Connie's for dinner. It had been a charming evening, spent enjoying the meal and internally fawning at how cute Isabel was when she'd smile and reach for Javi to pick her up. The six-month-old seemed to be drawn to him, and you'd be in denial if you neglected to acknowledge how something warm and fuzzy tingled in your tummy watching Javi prop her up in his arms while making silly muecas when she tried to reach for his moustache.

And little Olivia was a riot. Javi had told you so beforehand, but the precocious little girl hadn't missed a beat when you'd walked in together and Javi had introduced you to her.

"Are you uncle Javi's wife?" she'd queried and given you a guileless, warm-eyed stare, looking rambunctious in her little blue and white-butterfly-patterned overalls and pink polo.

You could feel Javi tense behind you, before you'd crouched down at Olivia's level.

With an impish smile, you'd began to say, "No, I'm his friend—"

"His girlfriend?" she piped and smirked up at him when Connie comically admonished her while Steve shook his head and held Isabel in the crook of his arm.

"Actually, yes. And that makes him my boyfriend, too," you'd chuckled and winked at her before remarking, "That probably sounds silly, since we're both grownups, huh."

Sitting now on the bench across from the 'Kid's Escape' upstairs and adjacent to the mall's food court, you were just fawning at the memory of Javier trying to suppress a kooky grin at the way Olivia had stated, "All grownups are silly. But you should marry each other so you can be happy and silly together," when Connie sat next to you and pulled you from your reveries.

You'd volunteered to keep watch over the strollers – one empty thanks to Anita taking Delilah for a diaper change, and the other with a sleeping Isabel next to you while Connie had taken Olivia in to run around in the playscape.

"It's going to be hell, getting her out of there," Connie snickers as she plops her purse next to her so she can take a load off.

"But she'll be tuckered out for sure on the drive home," you muse as you smirk at her and over at the indoor playground bustling with precocious kids.

You could see the little girl happily crawling up the tunnel to get to the slide, and it makes you think of how cute she was when she'd asked Javi to help her color in the latest page of her coloring book after dinner the other night.

Isabel sleepily shifts in her stroller, little fist curling into her cheek as she settled back down before she lets out a soft sigh that stirs your attention back at her.

Noticing your stare, Connie can't help endorse in an inconspicuous lilt, "Javi is great with her. Same with Olivia, when she was that little."

Pursing your lips knowingly, you tuck your hair behind your ear as you give her a side glance and drawl, "So you've let him babysit, then?"

"Not yet, no," Connie chuckles, adding, "Up until recently, I'd been under the impression that he was spending his free time galivanting around—"

"You mean 'skanking' around," you interject wryly, snickering when she gives you a nervous laugh. "It's ok. He had that rep when we met."

"I have to say, if Steve had that ladies' man status, I don't know if I would've been able to overlook it," Connie confides as she idly folds one of the baby's blankies into a neat square. "Although, I don't think I could keep my guard up for long. Not with how sweet he was."

"Well, Javi wore me down," you quip, and give her a musing shrug before adding, "I mean, not to say there weren't bumps in the road. Bumps shaped like conniving floozies, for one…"

Hands pausing in their absent folding and refolding, Connie's wide blue eyes stare at you as she whispers, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to dredge it up—"

You shake your head and exhale humorously. "No, it's fine! That probably sounded bitchy. Really, there was only one time I had any right at being miffed," you dismiss, but at Connie's curious stare, you can't help elaborating, "Early on, after the siege at the Palace of Justice? He'd been MIA, and then he'd called me one night – when we'd had plans for him to come over, to tell me he couldn't make it, and some woman was in his apartment. She was like, 'How're we gonna handle this arrangement, then?' with this seductive tone?"

Connie's expression etches with sympathy and guilt, as she mentions, "I remember that time. He and Steve were helping out an acquaintance of mine, who was worried she was a target for the cartel and the government."

"Don't worry, I know all that now. But at the time? I'd been crushed. And he'd tried to say nothing was going on, but I hung up on him and didn't talk to him for a while. And then we reconciled after that Tolu raid he was part of, and while we'd been arguing in the car about what happened, he let it slip that he had been with her," you find yourself volunteering, feeling like you were telling a story about someone you used to know.

Her reaction, though, grounds you back in the reality that it had happened to you, not someone else.

"Ugh, I'd tried to set him up with Elisa, but had I known then about you two, I would've never even introduced them! Oh but then the siege happened and she showed up outside the apartment begging for help, and I could only think to take her to Javi's so she could lay low," Connie tells you contritely before frowning as she recalls, "Oh no…on the day I drove her out of the capital, she'd mentioned something about that – the call."

"Oh?" you query, arching a brow.

"I never thought much of it and didn't put two and two together, until now. I guess she'd heard him. She'd said he sounded preoccupied, and she'd simply wanted to remind him that she wasn't just furniture being kept in his care," Connie answers, frowning, as she adds, "That he'd had the gall to gab with one of his girls like she wasn't even there—"

"I knew it," you can't help hiss as you cross your arms and shake your head. "He swore that he didn't even know why she said that while he was on the phone, and that after that, she'd been naked and waiting for him in bed—" you bite back your retroactive disdain and scoff, uncrossing your arms and looking down to make sure you didn't wake the baby in the stroller. "…Good to know I wasn't just inferring things."

Connie pats your shoulder. "Safe to say, he's made up for it, since?" she asks in a light tone.

You huff amusedly, and nod. "Yes, he's more than made up for it. But best believe, if I ever run into that Elisa, I'm beating her like a piñata," you tell her glibly, but your narrow smile speaks volumes for how serious you are.

At that, Connie can't help liking you a whole lot more than she already did.

Anita returns with Delilah, looking a bit harried as she puts the now fussy baby in her carriage. "Oof, sorry. She's all cranky," your friend explains as she tries to get her to settle.

"Ah, nap time?" Connie asks as she gives her seat to Anita so she can more comfortably tend to the baby.

"Yeah, she's just like her father. Whiny when she can't get any sleep," Anita jokes, and you all chuckle. "Did you want to check out Sears before heading out?"

Brightly, Connie agrees, "That'd be great! Let me grab Olivia."

You and Anita stay with the strollers so Connie can go collect Olivia from the playscape while you try to entertain the squirmy little one with silly coos and playful bops of her binky onto her chin, giving Anita a chance to finish her soft drink.

"Oh, did I tell you Ellis wants to do a barbecue?" Anita chimes as she tosses her finished cup into a nearby trash receptacle. "I'm going to invite Connie, too."

Smiling, you chit chat some more until Connie returns with Olivia in tow.

The mall outing was a nice way to spend the morning, and by the time you're exiting the department store, you're all agreeing to coordinating a good day to hang for the barbecue.

On the drive home after dropping Anita and the baby off, you can't help reminisce on the other night. Of how nice it'd been to stroll from Steve and Connie's to Javier's house a block or so away, walking hand in hand in the cool night air. The sound of the coquí filled the ambient hum over the breeze as you both talked, and served as the main nocturnal chorus once you both got into his bungalow. You hadn't finished placing your purse onto his dresser before he'd come up behind you and wrapped you up in his arms.

The sex had been ardent and magnificent after such an emotionally fulfilling week.

Javi had made you feel like the most sumptuous, scrumptious being as he unspooled pleasure from you with every part of him. His lips, hands, the press of him spreading you out into a pliant, writhing thing underneath him while he fucked you with all the passion that blazed in his heart and burned in his veins for you while he husked sweet, fervent things to you had been your undoing. He'd made you reach bliss so many times that night, you'd been quivering – reduced to a sinewy vessel, burned down to embers. But when you'd sobbed his name and begged him to make you his, new life had tingled through your nerve endings and pulsed in your core from how fierce and carnally he'd stared down at you as he'd reached his climax.

You're thinking of how his mouth had fallen open on his shout of ecstasy as he'd thrust home into your fluttering sheath and surged down to bury his wrecked whine into your neck as he spilled his orgasm deep, and the sense-memory of it has need blooming like a throbbing ache between your thighs, as you drive. It has you yearning for Javi, and having to remind yourself it's only been a day since you've been apart.

Annoyed with yourself, your mind wanders back to spending the night at his place, post-mind-blowing coupling.

Javier had reasoned with you beforehand to stay over, and you'd happily been cajoled into bringing a travel bag with a change of clothes for work the next day. He'd gone to the trouble to make his place immaculate and stocked the fridge with your favorite juices and drinks, which you couldn't help melt over.

Your infatuation has you thinking now of the quirky thing Javi did, as you pull into the driveway to your condo and punch in the security keycode.

After taking a soothing shower together and affectionately lotioning each other up with some silky cream you had in your travel tote, Javier had gone to the kitchen to get you a glass of water while you dreamily sat under the sheet on the side of the bed closest to the bedroom door, idly massaging the remnants of the lotion you'd used on the rest of your body along your arms. He'd come in, rounded the bed to the unoccupied side, placed the glass of water on the nightstand, then gone to shut the light off in the hall before tugging the towel around his hips off to be tossed into the bathroom before going to where you were under the sheet and lifting it to bossily, albeit affectionately, herd you to glide over to the opposite side of the bed as he climbed in after you.

You'd been so tired that you'd just exhaled an amused huff, greedily chugged half the water in the glass, and flopped down to curl into him after he'd shut the bedside lamp off on his side and pulled the rest of the covers up to snuggle up with you.

Riding up in the elevator now, it dawns on you.

Javier has always made sure to put himself between you and the door.

He's done it since you'd first been together. You'd not noticed before since you'd always absently preferred sleeping on the left side of the bed, and your place and Javi's back in Bogotá – hell, even his crash house in Medellín and the hotel room in Cartagena – had the doorway closer to the right side of the bed. But here? Your condo and his place's bedroom had the doors close to the left side.

Awestruck, you wander down to your door and key in, floored by the realization that Javier has always been compelled – maybe hardwired, even – to put himself between you and possible danger.

It makes butterflies flutter in your tummy the more you think about it.

The reveries of all the ways Javi's made you feel worthy and precious fill your head and keep you in a daydreamy bubble the rest of the day as you busy yourself with chores.

Javier, on the flipside, is trying to make heads and tails of what's before him in this latest anti-cartel crusade that he'd signed up for.

At the time, what no one knew, and what he was starting to suspect, was that the drug trade network between the islands of the Greater Antilles were supplied by several cartel factions in Central America. The biggest distributor, the Gulf cartel, had shipping lanes mapped into the Caribbean for years. And even though things in the Sinaloan, Guadalajaran, and Juárez plazas had become a veritable civil war, the coastal factions eked out revenue focusing on pumping marijuana, heroin and cocaine into the Caribbean, avoiding the hassle of increased boarder security and aggressive surveillance from the U.S.

Instead of 'trampolining' product over the boarder like Amado had perfected, traffickers in the Gulf cartel were applying a 'slingshot' style tactic for transporting the product to the network across the islands. That, however, required establishing partnerships with local gangs, who by coercion, bribery, or intimidation, succeeded in moving the drugs throughout their territory.

Junior Capsula's crew had been the best at cornering the market on the larger islands, and with time, he'd kowtowed rival factions to falling in line and working for him and his other capos. Nowhere was that more prevalent than in the Dominican Republic.

After getting the leads from his contacts, Nic Lopez had briefed Javier on how La Familia got their inventory for local trafficking from Santo Domingo, the capital of the Dominican Republic. A few calls and a lot of political compromise later, and Javier had coordinated a joint taskforce with the authorities there, so he and Nic flew out Friday to hit the ground running.

The plan was to find the pipeline there and turn the spigot off, or at the very least isolate who the players were and who they used to ferry the product and cash to the network of public housing points, just like what was found at the crime scene at the caserío hit.

Javier's counterpart was the head of the Dominican Republic's Dirección Nacional de Control de Drogas, aka their version of the Colombian National Police that specialized in drug enforcement. A man known as Comandante Ayala. His first impression of him was good, but he'd learned never to let first impressions dissuade him of a sad truth:

Most men could be bought. No matter how pious, or principled they're lauded to be.

One thing he did to give Javier a hopeful outlook, though, was confirm a few things only the well-connected knew: José Figueroa Agosto had ties on both islands. The narco wannabe kingpin had homes all over the Dominican Republic and Puerto Rico, tons of luxury cars, boats – and deep pockets for bribes.

No matter how many busts or seizures were undertaken, how many drug points or transport operations were dismantled, the inconspicuous thug was always ahead. Nothing had been making a dent. But, curiously, the massacre at the public housing complex had shaken some partners. Enough to make them gripe to those who didn't mind passing the complaints along to diligent and crafty guys like Nic Lopez.

At dinner, when it was just the two of them in the crowded cantina across from the military base they were staying in, Nic had confirmed what had now become the most obvious.

"…There's some other pipeline of distribution. Maybe someone in the syndicate is trying to mobilize everything to flow from that rather than out of Santo Domingo? It would explain why no reprisals have happened," is the intrepid agent's musing as he swirls his tequila idly. "That bust in St. Thomas? It could be from that other stream—"

"Yeah, that's what I've been thinking," Javi cuts in before downing the rest of his whiskey, letting the burn of the amber liquid temper his next statement. "Or, it could be a diversion. Their attempt at 'diversifying the portfolio.' Cali did the same thing, with Medellín, with the Sinaloans…"

It was a possibility. Really, anything was. Still, it didn't give him or Nic much comfort.

Deciding to call it a night not soon after, they both returned to the private dorms they'd been given to stay in for the next couple of days.

Once showered and in a pair of dark green boxers, Javi stretched out on the narrow bed against the wall to lounge in the direction the window-unit air conditioner was undulating cold air, and let himself unwind. Closing his eyes, he let his mind relax.

Of course, it wanders over to thinking of you.

He remembers how good it'd been to wake up with you in his bed the other morning. How wonderful the night before had been.

A primal yearning had pulsed beseechingly within him at watching you with Steve's kids. You hadn't missed a beat at contending with Olivia and her precocious questions. No matter how silly or nosy. He swore she got that trait from Steve. But he couldn't muster an ounce of umbrage when it came from the adorable little girl.

The image of you holding Isabel and smiling at the way she yawned before resting her head on your shoulder flashed across his mind's eye now, making that effervescent feeling expand behind his sternum and heat his blood. It had him aching in his chest for the future – for what it would feel like to look upon you while you held your future first-born, to cuddle and smile lovingly down at his child.

Was it a wonder that he could barely think straight the rest of the evening you all chit-chatted around the coffee table? Coloring with Olivia before she'd been herded to bed had been the only way he could keep from staring at you with want in his dark eyes. Hell, the urge to claim you had been so intoxicating that he'd almost considered coming up with an excuse for you two to leave abruptly. He'd even debated about taking a sleeping Isabel from your arms in order to hand her to Connie so he could grab your hand and tow you away back to his place already.

As soon as you'd made the overture to call it a night, Javier had been burning with a feral, primordial need for you. He'd barely contained his impulses on the stroll home, but the moment you were in his bedroom, Javi's restraint dissolved, and he'd been on you – stripping you with deft hands while his mouth claimed yours.

Parting ways the next morning had weighed on him more than he'd expected, especially knowing what you would be dealing with.

He'd called you that first night in Santo Domingo, and you'd told him the plans you'd confirmed with your father for Sunday. You'd been so tired from the workday, though, that when you'd stifled a sleepy yawn, Javier had insisted you go to bed, and promised to call you every night.

You'd needed to keep yourself occupied. The chores had helped, and so did fawning over Javier most of the day. Hell, even now, you sighed dreamily after staring over at the lovely bouquet he'd given you for Valentine's Day. It was sitting in the vase at the center of your glass dining table, still looking vibrant and lush thanks to your doting to keep the roses and lilies luscious as long as possible.

But now that you'd finished with the last 'to-do' – having just folded up the ironing board after leaving the starching and steaming for last to do while the TV played the evening news, you were just resigning yourself to the melancholy waiting for you, when the house phone rang.

Picking it up from the base as you simultaneously grabbed the remote from the side table, you turned the TV off as you pressed the button to pick up the call.

"Hello?"

"Hey, hermosa. How're things?"

You feel that beaming, tingly glee crest up in you at the sound of his canela-spiced baritone.

"Better, now that you've called," you tell him with genuine delight as you shut the lamp off in the living room and start to lope down the hall towards your bedroom. With a sigh, you murmur, "I miss you. Been thinking about you all day."

"Oh?" he purrs in that roguish tone that hints at intrigue.

"Mmhmm. After this week, can you blame me?" you flirt now, entering your room after switching the hall light off.

"Not at all, especially since I miss the hell out of you too, and have my mind wandering. I was just remembering how sexy you looked in that little jogging outfit from the other day. Among other things," he chuckles in a velvety rasp that has arousal tickling warmth into your core.

Tossing yourself onto your cozy bed, you chime casually, "On the drive home from spending the day at the mall with the girls? I kept replaying the other night."

You expect him to take the bait you just so meatily dangled for him, but instead, Javi hums, "Have fun shopping?"

Pursing your lips to stifle your goofy huff, you roll to adjust your lounging position on the bed so you can sit up against your propped pillows. "Yes. Oh! We have tentative plans to go over to Ellis and Anita's for a barbecue. Us girls will coordinate on the date and let you boys know," you tell him spiritedly, smiling when you hear him hum a pleased grunt. "How're things there? I don't imagine you and Nic had enough time to go sightseeing around the capital?"

"Pfft, not in the least. It's bustling, and the base is close to the shoreline, but aside from some government office meetings, all we've seen a lot of is the cantina and the taskforce headquarters," he retorts, and you can hear him shifting onto a bed before he lets out a relaxed exhale. "We're going to Punta Cana in the morning to ride along on a raid. I have a meeting at the Fortaleza Wednesday morning., so I'll have to be back by then. Hopefully we get the intel we need from here quick," is his remark before he tentatively asks, "Everything still on? I mean, you and your father are still spending the day together?"

With a sigh, you absently toy with a few strands of hair as you reply, "Yes. I'm meeting him in Dorado."

He hums, and you can sense he's being cautious, not wanting to linger on the topic for fear it could trigger your melancholy. It actually makes your heart twinge – knowing how much he cares.

Javier is thinking of a delicate way to ask whether you really would spend the day alone on the anniversary of your mother's death, when he hears the shifting of the pillows you're lounging on, as if you'd just stretched out.

"So, what're you wearing, papisongo?"

Heat flares from his apex to radiate arousal into his loins at your seductive query.

Stretching to lie on the bed so he can rest his head on the pillows, propping the phone between his shoulder and ear, Javi adjusts himself, already feeling want pool in his core and fill out his length. He licks his bottom lip before rumbling, "Just a pair of boxers—"

"Oh?" you purr in his ear, and the timbre is playful, full of promise. "Paint me a picture, stud."

He gets rock-hard at the petition.

With a gravelly hum, he drawls, "Not much to paint, guapita. I'm in a military dorm room, on a narrow bed that's more of a cot than anything, and lying on it so the air conditioner can fan on me. This Caribbean heat is something else."

You chuckle at that.

"Which boxers?" is your melodious ask.

Smirking, he tucks his hand behind his head to stretch more comfortably while his other palm caresses down his torso languidly. "The dark green ones," he answers before scoffing at himself, admitting, "Christ, you're getting me worked up already…"

"Tell me, Javi," is your smoky murmur that sends a charge of pulsing desire to throb in his cock.

Palming himself over his boxers, he closes his eyes and lets out a raspy exhale. "I'm so fucking hard. You got me turned on, wishing you were touching me right now," he tells you in a husky pitch. His hand slips below the waistband to stroke his heavy erection, and a shiver goes up his spine when you hum a pleased sound of approval. "W-What're you wearing, mi amor?"

Looking down at your worn, oversized plum t-shirt and the slouchy sleep shorts your fingers paused skimming along the crotch of, you bite your lip before fibbing in a sultry chime, "I'm wearing the red lace teddy."

Javier blows a raspberry at your answer before grumbling freshly, "Yeah fucking right. C'mon, what do you really have on?"

Snickering, you gripe, "Nothing sexy—"

"I doubt that. Anyway, you gotta paint a picture for me too, seductora," is Javi's puckish drawl that has thrill pulsing warmth between your thighs.

"It's a ratty and baggy sleep set, chavón. I'm laying on my bed, thinking of you looking like a sexy centerfold and touching myself. Does that do it for you?" is your haughty mutter, expecting him to snort at you.

Instead, he lets out a husky hum that sends a tickle down to your core, before he sets it aflame with, "Mmm, it does, naughty girl. Tell me: you grinding that sweet little clit, thinking about me?"

Clenching your thighs around your hand to rut against the heel of your palm, you let out a breathy mewl while your other hand keeps the phone to your ear. You get wet, picturing Javi naked and stretched out on his back as he pleasures himself for you. "Yes. Yes, Javi. Wish I could watch you, like that time. Wanna see you get yourself off for me," you're telling him as you slip your hand beneath your shorts and start to circle your fingertips over the hood of your clit before grinding just the right amount of pressure that has you aching for climax.

You can just make out the sound of him shifting over the covers of the bed he's lying on over his gruff swear of, 'Fuck,' before you whine, "Javi, talk to me."

Javier's just finished hastily kicking off his boxers so he can pleasure himself without the barrier of them stifling the vigor of his stroking. And at your needy order, he audibly spits in his hand before fisting his cock, groaning at the added glide. "You got me jacking off like a hard-up fucker, bravita. F-Fuck, wish I was with you. Need to feel you, smell you, taste how wet you are—" at your flitty mewl, he bares his teeth from how hard he squeezes himself and husks, "You like that, baby? Knowing how fucking bad I wanna drop to my knees and bury my face in your pussy?"

"Oh Javi!" your cry of bliss shoots electricity through him and has him chasing his orgasm. It snaps loose within the tangled pleasure in his apex when you beg, "Please, I need you, mi rey—"

"Dios mío, Celina—!" he croaks out as his wits are stolen from him when his hand mindlessly strokes him into rapturous completion. So much so, that he doesn't even realize he growls in a pitched baritone, "I'm coming—f-fuck, m'coming!" as he spills his climax, shooting thick ropes of pearly seed to coat his stomach.

The sound you let out at hearing him reach ecstasy and being propelled by it into your own searing orgasm anchors Javier back from the fuzzy afterglow to coo in a velvety husk, "Such a good girl. Sound so sexy and sweet, coming hard for me like that. Helping me get off so fucking good."

In a warm, tremulous fog, you lie in a relaxed heap on your bed, languidly gliding your touch through the slick damp of your climax as it seeps into the crotch of your shorts. "Yeah?" you dreamily lilt, and at his mellow hum of confirmation, you smile and silkily sigh, "How good, mi cariñito?"

He lets out a sated, humored exhale from deep in his chest, before purring over the line, "Got me laying here on this glorified cot, naked and covered in my cum, still buzzing. That's how good, malvadita. Can't move yet…"

The image he conjures has delight zinging through you. "Sounds like a delicious sight. Wish I was there to take care of you," is your sultry murmur. He grunts drolly at that, so you tell him, "I kept my pjs on, but now my shorts are damp; fingers are all slick—"

He groans, as if lamenting he can't be there to do anything about it. You snicker, wiping your digits on the pant leg of your shorts before using the back of your hand to push your hair away from your forehead, chiming, "How you feeling over there, hm?"

"Hmph, like a dirty perv," is his deadpan, but you can hear the lopsided smile in his tone. "Shit, I needed that. Been tense. Felt good – having the release," he tells you in a relaxed murmur, then adds acerbically, "And I've been too sore to hit the gym since that insane jog you took me on—"

"Hah, oh yeah? And you'd been so sure that my 'little jog' would be no sweat for you," is your deriding snicker, loving how he gives you a grumpy huff in response, so you goad, "Guess I'll have to skip the beach leg of the jog to accommodate you—"

"My quads still ache from trudging through the sand trying to sprint after you," he haughtily razzes, and you can't help recall how he'd pouted when you'd heckled him to keep up.

"Well, I did offer to rub them for you, but you decided you'd rather spend the time being a filthy beyako instead," you singsong daringly, squeezing your thighs together idly at the reminder that plays in your head.

He remembers too. How he'd greedily chugged the green juice you'd gotten at the stand on the way back through El Condado. How surly he'd been while you both strolled through the park across from the busy avenue leading to the pedestrian bridge to the residential area your condo resides in. How he'd stared at your ass when you bent over to tie your sneaker's shoelace while you tutted at him about the folly of trying to show you up. The way your sweaty skin had made him buzz with salacious need while you'd both rode up in the elevator. And how amazing you'd tasted when he'd stripped you of your jogging clothes to bend you over the foot of your bed so he could eat your pussy out from behind.

"As if I would've passed up the chance to get you in that 'downward dog' pose," he smugly quips, smirking when you chortle at his logic, so he adds, "I'd opt for sore muscles over skipping having you any day." At your unconvinced laugh, he gloats, "Hey, we took advantage of the workout hormones already in our systems. I know I felt fucking great the rest of the day—"

"Hah, well I can't argue with that. It felt amazing," you cut in impishly while caressing your fingertips languidly along your exposed belly as you think of how content he'd looked after the raunchy post-workout sex, all freshly showered, watching you get dressed while he towel-dried his hair.

His velvety hum at your comment filters through the phone, stirring a warm smile to tug your dreamy features as you tuck wayward strands of hair behind your ear, and when it's proceeded by a yawn, you murmur dotingly, "Alright, I love you, bebito. Now be a good boy and come home to me soon."

A familiar, incandescent feeling fills his chest, making him ache with a yearning and prolonging the wistful post-bliss daze clinging to him. It has him professing worshipfully, "I will. Eres mi vida, preciosa. M'gonna take care of you. Make you come for me, have you feeling as amazing as you always make me feel. Show you how much I love you—"

You giggle enchantedly. "Javi. You already do all of that," is your sultry insistence, which makes him smile. "You're mine, and I can't wait to have you in my arms again, so I can kiss you silly and get you off like you deserve, chulito."

He grazes his teeth over his bottom lip and grunts an enticed sound as he sits up and snatches up his rumpled boxers, using them to wipe the sticky mess from his midriff. "Well, with promises like that," Javi drawls cockily, and you scoff spiritedly at him. "I'll be home soon, corazón. Until then, be sure to keep thinking naughty things so you'll have plenty to tell me," is his velvet over steel rumble, smirking when he hears your charmed hum. "Goodnight, querida."

"Goodnight, mi amor."

You set the phone aside on the nightstand, turn the lamp off, curl up under the covers, and dream of Javier.

It's a wonderful one. You're both together, lying under the mango tree in your grandmother's backyard, the grass cool and soft under you while you gaze at Javi while he sits up on his propped elbow and caresses your cheek.

He's murmuring to you about catching Escobar, telling you how great it was to see him in prison with the Cali Godfathers, watching them all fight each other. That it was all over, and that he had all the time in the world now to be with you.

"What else do you want, Javi?"

With a beaming smile that unearths his boyish dimple, he cups your jaw and guides you closer so he can whisper, "I have everything I want now, Celina."

The breeze whooshes around you both and rustles the leaves of the tree above head and undulates the cornucopia of flowers that fill the yard around you. A few petals get carried up in the current and waft towards the house. You follow their trajectory and notice your mother standing on the back patio. She's wearing a flower-print wrap dress that accentuates her round baby bump, and she's waving at you while cradling the basket filled with viandas and eggs against her hip.

You're just about to call over to her, but the breeze whips around you now, and just as you feel Javier caress his big, warm hand over your tummy – stirring you to look up into his stare and get lost in his coffee-brewed brown eyes, your alarm goes off and snaps you awake.

A flood of warm, fuzzy tranquility fills you as you lie there, trying to keep all the pieces of the dream from slipping away into that obscure haze that tends to muddle the details the more alert your mind becomes.

What a weird dream, you think, but your smile doesn't wane as you get out of bed and set out to get ready for your day.

The smile is on your face now as you sit at the table in the club house's outdoor dining area, stare faraway as you look out at the rolling green of the nearest golf hole just beyond the shade-covered terrace.

You'd gone over to your father's place, like agreed, and he'd cajoled you into having brunch before going off on the daytrip he'd planned. Of course, though, you hadn't gotten to enjoy the savory dishes you'd both ordered before your father was pulled away by a jovial member here and there who just had to bend his ear about this or that.

Truthfully, you didn't mind having the distraction to gaze off and think about the dream some more. Wondering what the meaning behind it could be naturally led you to thinking about Javier, and fantasizing about him in a dorm room's cot, naked and in a rut for you. It made heat tingle up to the apples of your cheeks while it warmed your core with cloying desire.

You're sipping your passionfruit mimosa, continuing to stare off at the palm trees in the distance while thinking about how gorgeous Javi looked asleep in your bed post-Valentine's Day, when your father finally returns to the table and slips back into his seat across from you.

"Sorry about that. Anyway, where were we?" he's asking in his cool, bass-filled baritone stirring you back from the mental image of Javi's eyes looking like dark chocolate chips when the sunlight made him squint after he sat up in his bed and smiled down at you the other morning.

"…You were promising to have a nice surprise at the end of this road trip?" you retort, adjusting your napkin over your lap before resuming eating. "And I was asking if the surprise would be to make up for Camille's inevitable stupid comment—"

"Mija, don't start," your father quickly grumbles, eyes plaintive as he murmurs, "She is more than aware about the importance of today, and has made arrangements to stay at her sister's. So no, she won't be around to make any comments—"

"Good. I'm so glad she's learned her place," you cut in facetiously before taking another sip of your mimosa.

His deep, mustachioed scowl tells you how unamused he is by you, so you change the subject with an aloof hum of, "You mentioned you'd be traveling back to D.C.?"

With a grunt, he nods as he cuts into his omelet. "Yes. I suppose I can tell you now, that I'm being considered for an Admiral position—"

You pause in your noshing and place your cutlery down to give him your undivided attention as you exclaim, "Really?! Congratulations! That's great, Pá—"

He holds up a hand to gesture for you to not get too spirited as he mutters, "None of that. There isn't anything to congratulate over. Not yet, anyway. It's a very competitive process for the appointment. So, I'll be meeting with the chief of naval operations. If all goes well, then I meet with the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff."

Giving him a defiant scoff, you insist, "Just being considered for that is an accomplishment, Pá. It's a big deal, so quit trying to be so cool."

Raising his brows sardonically at you, he deadpans, "I've never had to try at being anything. I just am, chistosa."

You snicker and grin, impish as you chime, "Whatever you say, Admiral-in-waiting."

His chuckle is amused, but he shakes his head ruefully at you.

A pleasant lull passes between you in which you both finish your brunch and partake in idle chit-chat over your second drink before he gestures to the server for the check.

You're just grabbing your purse in preparation to leave after he's just handed the server the bi-fold, when he reclines in his chair to nurse his iced parcha drink before conversationally inquiring, "How're things going with Javier Peña?"

The standoffish part of you winds up like a rattlesnake seething in your chest, but you feign neutrality in your demeanor as you aloofly retort, "Is that your best attempt at getting some form of corroboration regarding my personal life?"

Instead of the overbearing recrimination you expected, your father answers you with a mild remark, delivered cavalierly after he finishes his drink.

"Your acknowledgement is enough corroboration, tesoro. So, ready to go?"

A bit miffed, you take your time finishing your grapefruit mimosa before plunking the empty flute down on the table, pushing your chair out, and swiftly rising before sauntering out from the terrace through the crowded club house – without waiting for him.

Without batting an eye, your father vacates the table and strolls out, finding you sat at a bench overlooking the parking lot.

You know he's testing your boundaries because you only divulge things to him when you're activated and want to put him in his place, but you learned long ago that is a futile endeavor, because you end up walking away more upset than victorious.

So, when he approaches the side of the bench that's vacant, clearly expecting you to tell him off, you look up at him stoically.

"I don't want to be baited by you. Not today."

His stony expression dissolves, and his wide, expressive eyes soften the split second before he diverts his gaze and turns to look in direction of the car.

"Is it so wrong, that I would want to know if this man is making you happy?"

You exhale and stand, gripping your purse to be pinned at your hip as you reply, "You forfeited that privilege a long time ago, so please respect my privacy," before walking away from him to go wait by the car.

With your back to him, you don't see his genuine frown as he watches you go.

While you both drive away in silence out of the Dorado Beach golf club's gated entrance en route for the destination your father had planned to take you in order to celebrate your mother and honor her memory, Javier is walking through the seized warehouse acquired during the military raid just that morning.

He and Nic rode along, but did not go in with the soldiers until after they'd taken the site and ushered in the 'all clear' callsign over the radio.

Compared to Search Bloc, this was a relatively bloodshed-free outing.

"Jav, take a look at this," Lopez calls over from just inside the loading dock's storage area, gesturing at a large crate that had just been crowbarred open.

Coming over to peer in, he's not surprised to find bricks of cocaine hidden under a fragrant layer of coffee grounds. However, it's the contraband found in the adjoining room that surprises him.

"Looks like they were in the middle of breaking down a shipment for local distribution. Notice anything?" Nic queries as they move through the room of tables with the product broken out.

"It's all packaged the same way as the stuff found at the caseríos," Javi ruminates out loud.

The interrogation of the suspects swept up in the raid doesn't net out much, but with confirmation that the warehouse was a stop off for getting the heroin and cocaine from the Mexican cartels, he had enough to piece together some possible routes used to ferry the stuff from the Dominican Republic into Puerto Rico.

Still, the organization was so opaque, it was hard to conclude who of the Familia was responsible for facilitating the operation from D.R. to P.R.

What Javier doesn't know, and what is established almost a decade later, is that Junior Capsula ran the operation that had made him a millionaire, with the help from two trusted partners: Elvin Torres Estrada, aka El Muñecón, and Ramon Antonio Del Rosario-Puente, aka Toño Leña. The three of them had been able to carve out a racket thanks to the spillover from the Mexican and Colombian drug wars of the late 80s and early 90s, using their organization to transport cocaine and heroin from three routes. While the cartels fought for turf and supremacy in trafficking drugs up to the U.S., Junior and his associates took advantage of the bottlenecking and provided the alternate routes needed.

The Caribbean had long been a way station for drug shipments to the U.S. and Europe, but with the increasing militarized 'War on Drugs' along the southern border, traffickers began to look at Puerto Rico as a sought-after drug territory. This was due to the island's status as a U.S. territory, and a major perk that came with it: much of the cargo transported from the island did not have to clear customs before entering the eastern U.S. seaboard. That allowed Junior – who'd began his career in narco-trafficking as a drug-boat driver until 1993, when he struck out on his own by carrying out a hit on a truck driver who'd allegedly stolen a shipment of Colombian cocaine – to build the narco network that had him controlling 90% of the drug trade in the Caribbean.

With Toño Leña overseeing the transportation side, they would use small airplanes to drop bundles ferried from the three drug pipelines, dropped them in the Dominican Republic where they'd be collected, repackaged and moved to Puerto Rico or the U.S. The product that made it to the island would then be distributed out by El Muñecón, who'd supply the Puerto Rican drug gangs with the most territory and dealing points the bulk of the product. Said gangs, like the ones hit at the caserío massacres, would then supply drugs to smaller dealers who'd kick up dues to them, as well as to other traffickers with networks moving drugs up to the Northeast and over the Atlantic to Europe.

In all, Junior's core organization was made up of hundreds of people, insulated across all echelons of society, who helped obscure the hierarchy of the network to outside forces. The millions made went into luxury cars, boats, homes – all under shell company names, or "straw owners" or "jockeys." The latter were co-conspirators with legitimate standing who would help conceal the true ownership of assets, as well as facilitated laundering the money through property and business ventures. They'd do so with 'reputable' facilitators who'd assist with the placement, layering or integration of the organization's narcotics proceeds within lawful economic or financial systems.

In essence, Junior was the mastermind of making an illegal organization that acted as a symbiote for 'legitimate' business entities, developing a beneficial relationship, encouraged by corruption and greed. Which meant there was little appetite to uncover the organization's dealings, no matter how much violence and bloodshed skyrocketed on the island.

Javier suspected there was a system at play, just under the surface, though. So, he and Nic requested to see any deeds, titles, and business licenses with any association to the people and places that had been raided.

They'd been walked into a stuffy, humid back office Comandante Ayala supplied for them so they could dig through everything on the case so far, and for once in his life, Javier lamented not having a computerized way to research everything. Instead, there were boxes and boxes with no discernable filing system piled around the room for the two of them to work their way through.

"So…you take the ones on the left, and I'll work on the ones to the right?" Nic quips dryly as he wipes the back of his palm along his brow to sweep away the already beading perspiration dripping from his hairline.

"…Whatever we do find in all this shit? Remind me to have someone scan and copy it all over so it's on a computer," Javi deadpans as he flips the top of the nearest stacked box off, digging into the cluster of manila folders as he gripes, "At the very least, we'll be able to type into a search bar when we need to find something…"

Nic grunts flatly, already plunking down into a swivel chair by the window, and reading through some files while he unseeingly fiddles with the air-conditioning unit's on switch and temperature setting.

It isn't until he sits himself and lets out a weary exhale that his mind triggers a realization: Jesus. I actually would kill to have all of this in a laptop.

He smirks to himself, knowing how gleeful you'd be to know he's been worn down of his abhorrence towards the 'digital age' you've been foretelling to him, let alone that he'd kill to have the convenience of a file search at the tips of his fingers. Well, more like the tips of his pointer fingers.

While he internally admonishes himself for already starting to daydream about you instead of concentrating on the file he's buried in currently, you're trying not to succumb to the impulse of putting your guard up even more than you already have with your father.

The drive on Route 2 West had never been your favorite, and doing it now when there's so much tension definitely had your hackles up.

"Why didn't you take the highway?" you can't help ask as you stare out the window at the traffic trekking by.

"Because, you can't get any of those off the side of the highway," he answers and points ahead to a cluster of stands just ahead. "Your mother loved stopping and perusing. She'd make me pull over, no matter if it was a sunny day or during a downpour."

You look out the windshield to see the kiosks lined up along the right side of the busy road. They were bustling with patrons who'd pulled over to stretch their legs and have a look at the fruit, viandas, artisanal treats and crafts, or to grab something to nibble on or drink before heading back onto the route.

Unbidden, you crack a smile as the memory of your mother holding your hand while she talked to the fruit stand owner whilst they bagged everything, crossed your mind. It was then proceeded by the image of her patiently watching you while she let you pick out the mangos and guayabas you thought were the best from the bunch.

Blinking free from the memories, you realize your father's pulled the car over along the grassy side of the road up ahead from the bulk of the other parked cars.

"Just a little pitstop?" your father suggests and gives you an expectant look.

You relent, smiling at him as you nod. "But I get to pick the fruits," you tell him as you eject your seatbelt and grab your purse.

"Fine by me, tesoro," he chuckles as he follows suit.

Before long, you're cradling a paper bag with a bounty of fresh fruits tucked in it while you wait in line at the food truck selling pastries and fritters, as well as a fragrant-smelling coffee that has you swooning.

Your father had gone back to the car to drop off the bundle of plátano, guineo, ñame and panapén he'd gotten from one stand, so you had a moment to yourself while you stepped to the front of the order window and requested the two coffees, then stood aside to wait. Hope Javier's doing ok, you can't help think as you idle, and are so lost in thought that you miss when they call out your order.

When you realize it, you rush to the pickup window, but your father has come just in time to grab both to-go cups for you. Placing a few folded bills into the tip jar, he takes each cup and gestures for you to walk ahead back to the car.

Once the bag is secure in the back seat and you're in the passenger seat, your father passes you one of the cups.

"Are we going to veer over to the coastal route next?" you ask as you peel the plastic lip on the lid back before taking a sip of the coffee.

"No, I wanted to take you somewhere special. A place I used to bring your mother to," he answers in a pensive baritone timbre that stirs you to look curiously at him. For some reason, your stare looks dubious to him, so he grumbles, "We had moments like that, you know—"

"I didn't say anything to the contrary," you scoff and squint at him before sniping, "You seem to forget I was around and remember a time when you and her were happy…"

That douses his umbrage instantly with cold water and has him exhaling before tersely muttering, "It's going to be a winding, bumpy drive the rest of the way, so get comfortable…"

Needless to say, the rest of the drive from Route 2 up into the mountainous roads winding up through the lush terrain that makes up the scenery of most central municipalities of the island, is a silent once, save for the radio playing Puerto Rican oldies. At least when the signal would be unincumbered by the occasional flare of static caused by the interference of the elevation and surroundings.

Still, you manage to use the silent drive to gain some docility by continually reminding yourself, He's trying. You have to try too.

You're so invested in your internal recitation of this new mantra that you don't realize you've stopped until he's turned the ignition off. Snapping out of your faraway daze, you look around at the site he's parked in front of and gape in awe.

"Come, I set a reservation for us," your father is remarking as he exits the driver's side.

Bemused, you quickly undo your seatbelt and follow, still staring at the expansive view before you.

He turns and notices your transfixed look and smiles, coming to stand next to you so you both can look towards the almost ethereal view of the splendor that is being on top of a mountain at the center of the island that looks down at rolling hills and valleys of every shade of tropical green you can imagine.

"Your mother always said being up here reminded her of Medellín," is his rumbled remark. "The view is even better from the restaurant."

Indeed, your father was right.

Once you've been sat at the top terrace with the veranda that faces out to the sprawling view, you dreamily stare at how the sunset cresting in the West casts a bronzed, blushed hue over the valleys over yonder, with the twinkle of distant lights from humble homes dusting through the frondy foliage and canopies that make up the timeless terrain.

"Estamos en el campo," you remark wistfully as you admire the scenery, unable to avoid being reminded of the lovely view Javier had taken you up to once – overlooking that gorgeous dusky view of Medellín in early twilight.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say the jibarita in you misses being in the peace and calm of campesina life," he can't help jibe before he sips the ron he ordered.

You snicker, musing, "Well seeing as I had no say in the matter, I'd learned to appreciate living en el monte and getting bossed around by grandma."

He hums, smiling ruefully as he concedes, "My mother wasn't the easiest to deal with, but she loved having you stay with her. You came back much more self-reliant—"

"That's because she made me fend for myself when I complained. Once, she said, 'You're not sleeping and eating in my house if you don't know how to be grateful'," is your charge, but you sit back in your seat to sip your Cuba libre before shrugging, and adding, "But when she found me by the river a few days later where I'd set up camp – eating boiled plantains and eggs I'd foraged – she told me I could go back to the house."

Your father frowns. Sure, he'd taught you survival skills from the time you were old enough to talk and retain information, but hearing you inoffensively replay having to put them to use because of his own mother, has made the knot in his chest loosen.

"She never told me that. Why didn't you ever mention it before?" is his low-octave query, intense gaze softening at your dismissive wave of your hand as you finished your drink.

"Because you left me there, so I figured you'd intended for her to teach me lessons like that," you tell him honestly.

After all, you'd been ten or eleven years old, and not unaware of the tension starting to form between your parents, so when he'd gotten stationed overseas for ops training, and your mother had agreed to go with him, they'd thought having you spend that time with family would be for the best. That they could try to rekindle their relationship without having you see any more arguments and fights that would likely occur when things were tenuous between them. At least – overtime – that's what you concluded was the reasoning for getting dropped into the rural hills of Puerto Rico, or left for months at a time to live with your 'Buela in Medellín during summer breaks.

So, the juxtaposition of having a splendid, charmed life at your Buela's house in Medellín, versus the more rigorous, jíbara life of your Grandma's finca in Orocovis, never bothered you, let alone figure into any of your resentments. No, those would come later…

Still, you'd also compartmentalized so many of your feelings towards those times, that looking at the sad expression on your father's face now has you vacantly wondering out loud, "What? You always said experiences fortify the person you become; turns a person to steel towards the hardships of life. That being forged by adversity makes for the strongest steel of them all."

His silence is weighty, expression carving into a stony scowl at your assertion, while his eyes shone with conflict.

Just as he's about to open his mouth, though, the waitress appears with your entrees.

The mouth-watering mofongo con camarones a la criolla – your favorite dish – is piping hot and steaming with the fragrant aroma of the sazón, onions, tomato and garlic that comprise the bisque-like creole sauce saturating the shrimp-covered dome of fried, mashed plantains. You're eager to indulge in the delicacy, but once the waitress departs, you can't help notice how your father just stares at his arróz mamposteao y bistec encebollado guardedly – not making a move to place his napkin on his lap and pick up the utensils to dig in.

Thus, you find yourself sighing, before changing the subject.

"So, what would Ma order when you brought her up here? I bet it wasn't anything with gandules in it," you drawl goofily, cracking a smile when he scoffs and shakes his head. "She thought they were so gross—"

"Which I think she only said so to annoy me, since I like arróz con gandules and ordered it for us the first time we came here. I learned never to make that mistake again," is his snickered rumble as he shifts his chair further into the table and drapes the napkin over his lap now. "Her favorite was the white rice, red beans, and carne guisada. With a big slice of aguacate on the side," is his wry remark, chuckling when you playfully point your fork at his own hefty piece of avocado on his side plate. "It's the best up here. Have some."

Humored, you cut a sliver of it with your fork before partaking. "Mmm, like butter," you sardonically swoon, earning a warm chuckle from your father.

The rest of dinner is nice, filled with irreverent chatter and the delectable meal. After you're both sated and the bill is settled, you exit to return to the car, where you expect to just hop in and make the trek back down the mountain, but instead your father surprises you by going into the backseat for something.

"Before we head down, I thought we could have another of your mother's favorites."

He produces a rectangular carton from a paper bag, and you instantly beam with mirth. "A brazo gitano?! I haven't had one in ages," you marvel after he's handed it to you. "When did you get this?!"

He sits on the front of the car's hood and watches as you merrily open up the box to produce the Spanish cake roll that was filled with guava. With a nostalgic smile, he murmurs, "While you were picking fruit, I got the last one for sale at the pastry truck. I figured we could have it for dessert while looking at the view before it gets dark."

You sit on the hood next to him and offer him first slice of the artisanal roll, which he cuts into with the Swiss Army knife he's produced from his pants pocket.

Once you're both eating the fluffy and sweet confection while admiring how the sun finally dips behind the mountain range and a shroud of stars is revealed in the navy blue of the sky above while the cool breeze flits across the fronds and tall grasses, you spare a glance towards your dad.

"Was this the surprise?" you ask, affection lightening your tone.

"Nope. That's still to come."

Intrigued, you are more than content to drive back and wait for said surprise, especially when any tension between you both has finally dissolved away. You both talked and joked, reminisced about long ago family trips, silly anecdotes, and even bantered about old times. Like the time he'd taken you to see The Godfather in the theater with him, and him insisting it was a completely acceptable film to let an elementary school-aged child watch at the cinema.

"—Movies are for everyone! Especially great cinematic films like that."

"I don't disagree, but do you remember the looks you got from the ticket taker?"

"Looks que looks – as if I gave a damn what some punk with long hair thought—"

"Ok, fair point. But you did take me to Rosemary's Baby when I was little—"

"…That was your mother's fault. I didn't know what it was about," he rasps in a bass-filled grumble, scowling when you laugh. "I thought about grabbing you and heading for the exit pretty close to the start of it, but we were sat too far in the center of the row—"

The irreverent giggle bubbles out of you just before you snicker, "Was it the bedroom scene?"

You're unaware that he has a vivid recollection of how you'd watched, perplexed at the infamous scene. And he can still hear your little voice, piping up with a barrage of questions the entire drive home after the movie, with your child-like innocence, albeit perturbed confusion, inquiring, 'Why all the lady's friends were bad,' among other things.

"Yes. That was definitely not a film for a child. Your mother eventually agreed, albeit amusedly…" is his dolefully sardonic retort as he pulls into the driveway now to the stately tropical home in the gated, beachfront community in Dorado he uses as his main residence on the island.

Once he's parked in the vacant carport adjacent the two-story house with the tiled roof, you both unload the car of the road stand purchases and head into the home via the door located in the interior of the marquesina. And once you've placed the bag of fruit onto the kitchen island's counter, your father hangs his keys on the nearby hook next to the pantry before gesturing for you to go into the living room.

"So, the surprise," he announces as he rounds you to go to the entertainment system against the far wall that the large tufted couch faces, and retrieves something before turning to you. "I had this made for you."

You blink at him curiously before looking at the jacketed VHS tape he's handing to you, perplexed when you don't see any feature film or studio labels on it to identify what the movie cassette could be. Before you can ask, though, he gestures for you to sit on the couch, and after you've sat down, you finally notice the file box tucked in a bottom shelf of the entertainment system once your father has bent down and grabbed it.

"And, I thought you could have these so you can put them in an album, if you want," he's telling you as he puts the box down on the coffee table before he removes the lid and sets it aside.

He sits next to you and watches as you lean forward to peer into the box.

It's filled with neatly-stacked photo envelopes filled with developed prints. When you look closer, you realize many of them have your father's scribbled handwriting on the corner, marking the location and year the photos were taken. Some even have your mother's cursive script. One reads, Celina's first beach day, 1963.

Overcome, you look with wide, tear-brimming eyes at your father.

"I don't think you've seen most, since we moved around so much, but I always kept them stored, for safe keeping—" your father's calm baritone elaboration is cut short by you hugging him tight.

He reciprocates by winding his strong arms around you and relishing the tender moment.

When you're sure you can pull away without so much as an emotional sniffle, you clear your throat and ask, "What is the video tape of?"

His smile is barely subdued as he grabs the VHS and removes it from the sleeve before going to the VCR. Once the tape is in and he's turned on the television, he presses 'Play' on the remote and goes back to sit next to you.

The screen crackles to life with an at-first granny countdown sequence before the beginning of a super 8 home movie starts to play. The camera lens is pointed up at the clouds of a sunny day before the camera pans down and over at someone sitting under a leafy tree.

The instrumental melody of 'Here Comes the Sun' by The Beatles plays over the home movie as the person holding the camera nears the figure under the tree.

Looking up and over her shoulder, your mother smiles and scrunches her nose at the camera, mouthing what looks like, '¿Que haces con eso?'

You realize the camera is held by your father when he comes into view after sitting next to her on the blanket and pivoting it so he can film them both as he leans in and kisses her cheek. She smiles and funnily pats his clean-shaven features before wrinkling her nose cutely at something he says, which from your lip-reading, looks like, 'Bellísima.'

"Most of these don't have sound. I remembered how much you both liked this song, so I had them use it," he tells you, watching your transfixed expression while you watch unblinkingly as more footage from different home movies play.

While the video of your mother wearing a bohemian dress and doing a silly cha-cha dance for the camera plays, you remember that indeed, your mother would sing this song to you in the car to cheer you up when you were in a mood, sat grumpily in the backseat, or obstinately in your room while refusing to go play outside.

Your heart swells with pure joy seeing her vibrant and youthful, as she holds up the basket of flowers she's just picked up to the camera and grins at something your father must've said to her whilst he filmed.

The delighted bubble of laughter bursts in you at the footage going to your 'Buela sat on the front patio of her house, waving at the camera and giving a Cheshire smile when you toddle into frame and drape over her lap, little hands pulling on her skirt for her to give you attention before your 'Buelo comes into the shot to pick you up and hold you up to bounce you in his arms.

Happy tears brim and spill from your eyes to roll down your cheeks as more wonderful moments you'd been too little to remember play out over the instrumental song.

You feel still, completely content – like you've been dipped back to a time when nothing had been lost.

So, you don't expect the added surprise of when the song's ending chords are strummed, for a new series of home movies to play, that have actual recorded sound.

"—Ay Diego. You're really going to mess around with that camera now?"

"Why not? Vamos, bellísima. Give me a smile? Before la fiera comes down—"

"Don't call her that!" your mother chastises and swats his arm, causing the camera to swivel momentarily about the Sunday afternoon sun-lit kitchen before your father scoffs amusedly and resumes pointing it to your mother as she stands near the sink in mid-lunch prep. Squinting impishly at the lens, she derides, "Salió a ti, chistoso—"

"Oh, no. Not in the least. Es pura hija tuya—"

"You're really using that camera for the first time and wasting the fancy film con huevonadas?" is her wry snicker as she goes back to chopping a green pepper.

"Yes."

"Ah pues bien."

"Mami, is lunch ready?"

The camera pans around to focus on the doorway just as you come around from the living room and don't even spare your father a glance.

"Not yet. Come help, and it'll be ready quicker."

"Ok," you say dutifully as you retrieve the foot stool and carry it over to place it down next to her.

"Look, Celina. Smile for the camera," your father cajoles from behind the lens as you stand on the stool and get ready to help wash the rice sitting in the bowl by the sink.

You roll your eyes and look at the camera lens, brow furrowed. "Daddy, that's stupid. Why would I smile when I'm washing rice?"

At your mother's humored hum, you relent and smile, showing your child-like grin that's missing a few baby teeth before shaking your head and going to work sifting your hands to rinse the rice grains in the bowl with water they've been soaking in.

"Ah, look at my two beautiful girls, in the kitchen," is your father's smug, albeit affectionate observation. At your mother blowing a raspberry and pursing her lips derisively at his musing, your father makes a quippy grumble before heckling, as if to the audience, "Rosario, ever the skeptic. Mi bellísima—"

"Ay, Pá, cut it out!" you jeer, grimacing the way a little kid grossed out by her parents being mushy towards each other would while your mother laughs melodiously next to you.

You laugh as the video cuts with your father's grumbled huff before going to the next home movie.

The rest of the time watching the VHS tape is spent that way, with laughter and merry reminiscing. Before long, you end up curled up on the couch, with your head on your father's shoulder, rewatching the anthology of home movies he strung together for you.

When you fall asleep, he lays you down on the sofa and places a throw blanket over you before kissing your forehead and wishing you a goodnight.

You're disoriented when you wake the next morning, and gasp after awareness sets in. Luckily, your father had already put a pot of coffee on and had the presence of mind to have a change of clothes ready for you, so after a quick breakfast, you get ready and make a mad dash to your car, heading to your condo in order to shower and get dressed for work.

As you collect your work tote and rifle through it to make sure you have everything you need, you press 'Play' on the answering machine to check the messages left while you were out.

"—Hola, nena! Wanted to see if you were free for happy hour drinks. Llámame," is the first message, left by Zoraida. No doubt, wanting to catch up and distract you about tomorrow…

The answering machine's robotic recording announces the next message, pulling you from your thoughts.

"Hey, querida. Just calling to check in. Hope you had a nice day, and that all went well with your dad. I'll call you tomorrow. Love you."

Any melancholy that was about to set in was scattered by the light that filled your heart at hearing Javier's soulful baritone voice. You wanted to call him immediately, but decided against it, figuring he'd be very busy.

And, he was, thanks to the bureaucratic hurdles he'd encountered in Santo Domingo that morning.

One thing he did not miss was dealing with the sabotage and stonewalling from officials who should have stopping the traffickers be at the top of their priority list, let alone within their best interests to cooperate. Luckily his lack of patience helped him figure out a resolution.

"—My contact in the State Department made it clear that they would spearhead a measure to increase the U.S. National Guard's patrol of the waters of the Mona Passage. Frankly I'm inclined to lend my backing and speak to the governor, seeing as we're not getting the kind of cooperation we'd hoped for," he's elucidating in a non-negotiable tone now to the government official who'd refused his request for the DEA to have access to surveillance ops data collected by the local authorities.

It seemed to do the trick, since within an hour he received a call from the Ayala confirming he was given clearance to hand over classified surveillance findings to him. While he left Nic to coordinate the handoff with his counterpart assigned to the capital, Javier went outside to get some air.

He was craving a cigarette badly, and was trying not to succumb to the impulse of going to the breakroom and putting money in the vending machine for a pack. So, he checks his watch and decides he needs something to take the edge off.

You're just in the middle of reading over some requisitions while you nibble on a sandwich from the cafeteria when your cell phone starts ringing in your purse. Sitting up from your desk to retrieve it, you answer it as you dab your lips with a napkin.

"Hey, corazón. I'm not interrupting you from anything—?"

"No, not at all," you eagerly cut in, smiling as you sit back down and tell him sweetly, "I wanted to call you this morning after I got in and heard your message, but figured you'd be busy. I miss you."

"I miss you too," he says with genuine warmth, as if he needed to say it to get a load off his shoulders. "So, everything went alright?"

"Yes. It was a nice day. I'll tell you more later," you say easily, more interested in hearing how he's doing than possibly getting emotional on the phone. "How're things there? Everything ok?"

"It's the same shit, different day. But making progress, I think. Hoping to tie up a few things here before we head back," he remarks in that way you know means he doesn't want to give you the particulars. "Anyway, I won't keep you. I just wanted to check in. I'll call you tonight—"

"Oh, Zoraida badgered me to go out for drinks tonight," you tell him, frowning before you assure, "I'll try and make it an early night—"

"No, don't do that. She's been after you to catch up for a while," Javier insists good-naturedly, adding in a rumble, "You gotta tell her all about your jevo and how good he gives it to you, no?"

You snicker coquettishly, feeling titillated by his confident, umbrage-free recall and his ability to make it a sexy taunt. "Mmm, well I can always count on you to remind me of such things, mandón. I'll try and keep it as PG as possible," you silkily muse as you idly run your fingers through your hair, toying with a few strands as you add, "Can I call you when I get in? I'm going to need my jevo to make sweet, naughty promises to hold me over for another night without him."

Javi groans, as if tantalized by your suggestion. "Yes, call me, guapita," he tells you in a gravel pitch. But then he pauses, before asking concernedly, "What're you planning to do tomorrow? I mean, are you going into work? Or taking the day?"

You sigh, tugging on the strands of hair you've looped around your finger. "I have a big meeting in the morning that I don't want to miss, but I'll probably take a half day…not sure I'll be of much use after that, so I'll go to my place and just…just decompress and not be in the way…"

Scowling, Javier feels a pang of hurt, knowing you'll be self-isolating for fear of being too emotionally vulnerable in your bereavement.

"…I'll let you go. Promise you'll keep your cool and stay safe?" is your pensive query.

"I will, querida. I love you."

"I love you too. Call you tonight, hermoso. Be good until then."

He smiles, despite himself, before purring, "Mira quien habla. Take care, cariño."

"I will, chulito. Bye."

The rest of both your day are busy. You're thankful for it, seeing as that stubborn melancholy keeps trying to wiggle its way free from where you've buried it deep down. Javi, on the other hand, is getting more and more aggravated by the red tape regarding getting all the copies of the financial documents transferred to the office in San Juan.

He had a few DOJ lawyers putting pressure on the banks trying to block complying with a subpoena, but he was loathe to idle around for another day while you were in self-imposed solitude. It was weighing on him.

Nic could sense it.

While they both sat eating dinner in the stuffy file room that they'd made their homebase, the other agent eyed him over his can of beer before finally deciding to do some fishing.

"Something on your mind?"

Javi popped a plantain chip into his mouth, crunching on it and shaking his head while he kept his eyes on the file he was skimming over.

"Some one on your mind, then?"

That got him to give Nic a flinty glance before he chewed on the next chip, but this time, he didn't give an answer.

"You know, we heard the rumor. It made it all the way back to headquarters," the keen-eyed man muses, adding nonchalantly, "Must've been a nice coincidence, you two ending up in the San Juan federal office—"

"Let's just keep it to the case, Nic," is the sharp retort Javier lobs his way as he shuts the file's folder and reaches for his own can of beer.

Nic raises his brows and leans back in his chair, so Javi assumes that's the end of his querying.

"…If by chance you needed to head back before things are squared away for the financials transfer, I could stay and oversee that," Nic comments, the suggestion woven into his aloof tone. "No need for both of us to sit here sweating our asses off."

Javi glances sidelong at him while he sips his beer. Nic gives a one-shouldered shrug before returning to his own log he'd been tinkering with all day.

"…I might take you up on that…"

It was the most admittance he'd be getting from the boss man, so the other agent smirked to himself and nodded.

You, on the flipside, are admitting it all to the girls over drinks at the go-to beachy bar your clique loves hanging out at.

Coming straight from work, you'd walked into the bar expecting only Zoraida to be waiting, but were surprised to see Naida and Tayra at the corner booth as well, ready to shower you with gifts. The former gave you another wonderful scented candle she'd gotten you addicted to since moving back to the island, while the latter slid the box of rich dark chocolates you love across to you with a wink.

Zoraida broke the ice regarding the long-awaited topic of your love life by handing you a gift bag with a cunning smirk. You pulled out the very risqué see-through black lingerie – a halter-top style onesie with a thong crotch – and balk at your friends before they bossily cajole you to tell them everything and not spare a single detail.

So, you do. Albeit skipping as much of the tumultuous times of your on-again-off-again relationship with Javier to date. Over a couple of hours and several tropical cocktails and appetizers later, you've dished everything, including the absolutely wonderful weekend leading into the spectacular Valentine's Day. You'd even gone into your purse and retrieved the group photo from the dinner with Steve and Connie so you could show them how handsome your jevo is, as well as give them proof at how infatuated you two are for each other.

"—Ok, he's guapísimo and you got him wrapped around your little finger. Tell us how good he is—"

"Zory, obviously if she's put up with him this long? El señorito Javi sabe chingar," Tayra counters sassily.

"And she said he was a papi chulo when she met him, so what else does she need to say?" Naida tries to give you a reprieve in giving raunchy, salacious details.

But Zoraida will have none of it. "Detalles ahora, doña," she singsongs playfully as she taps the table to the rhythm of her cadence.

You dramatically roll your eyes, but your smile is mischievous as you declare, "He's the best lover I've ever had. I don't think I could be with anyone else…which is why I was celibate the whole time after I came home."

The girls exchange looks of surprise, floored by your candor.

"Javier is the most sensual, selfless, and shamelessly amazing amante – like, there's no one else who even compares. And, he's loving, but naughty, secure in letting me take the lead when I want to be in control, but super sexy when he's in control. I sometimes tease him just to get him riled up to manhandle me – to get all bossy and dominant – and make me his. He talks dirty like no one else I've ever been with, but not like in a meaningless way. Everything he says is hot, but caring – like, he checks in and makes sure he's doing what I want—"

You pause in your rambling admittance when the waitress comes by to check in, and you all politely ask for another round.

Snickering, you continue in a hushed tone, "I've never been with someone who cares so much about me, and who's so committed to my needs, and is so attentive towards my desires and my pleasure."

Naida whistles at that, while Tayra nods as if that is a glorious statement.

Zoraida narrows her gaze and hits you with the question you know she's been waiting to blurt.

"Does he make you come?"

"If Javi doesn't make me come at least twice when we do it, he takes it as a personal failure – and then makes me come with his mouth or fingers," you state unabashedly before sipping the last of your drink.

That finally cracks Zoraida.

She proudly grins and puts her arm around you as she whispers conspiratorially, but loud enough for the other girls to hear, "It sounds to me like Mr. Javier Peña is a keeper!"

You snort and nudge your shoulder into her wryly before the girls start teasing you gleefully.

"Can we talk about all your sex lives now?!"

The girls humor you, regaling you of their recent sexcapades for the rest of the time until you all have to call it a night and head home.

It's a while later after, and bone tired after spending the day in the drudgery of file reading, Javier decompresses with a hot shower. He is finishing drying his hair post-shower and eyeing his duffle, wondering if he should start packing it when his phone starts ringing.

He tosses the towel aside and grabs for it off the charger, dropping down on the narrow bed as he answers, "Wild night with the girls?"

You chuckle, drawling, "Drinks and sex talk is hardly a wild night with the girls, stud."

"Sex talk, eh?" he questions appealingly, smiling when you hum flirtatiously in response. The air-conditioned room is cool and comfortable as he stretches out on the bed in his pajama bottoms, so he relaxes backwards into the propped pillows as he idly scratches at his chest while he asks, "Care to share some?"

He hears the shift and rustling of the bedding as you adjust to lounge up in your pillows. "Well, after the girls nagged me to spill everything 'Javi Peña,' they filled me in on their love lives; how they spent Valentine's. Naida's been dating the same guy for a couple of years. They live together, and she told us how they tried roleplay the other day," you tell him brazenly, and he can hear the smile in your tone. "Tayra's a serial dater. She's never kept a guy around longer than a few dates or hookups. She told us about the last guy that she let go down on her in her office late one night. Oh! And Zoraida has a roster of guys she sees – you know, like on rotation, so she told us about the baseball player that asked to lick her ass—"

"Whoa," Javi sputters at the unfiltered gossip, exhaling sardonically before he snickers, "So much for keeping it PG. And what did you tell 'em?"

Your giggle is smoky before you purr, "Que eres el amante más asombroso de mi vida."

That you're the most amazing lover of my life.

His pulse rushes at that, shooting warm desire into his apex and making him lustful, so he murmurs, "Oh yeah? And what sexy details did you give to prove that?"

"Nothing as bawdy, don't worry! Well, actually, I guess the most detailed tidbit was that you always make me come – that if you don't make me come at least twice, you take it as a personal failure and make it your mission to make me come with your mouth or fingers—"

"Cristo amado, woman!" he exclaims, incredulous smile quirking his features while an embarrassed flush rises up from his neck while you guffaw a sultry laugh. Tracing the inner rim of his bottom lip with his tongue, he deadpans, "Great. Now I'm going to have to pretend I don't know that you told them all that—"

"Why pretend? It's not like I said a bad thing! You can tell your friends about how good you make me come, if you want, chulito," you taunt knowingly. "Or whatever naughty details about our sex life you'd want to brag about. It's only fair—"

"That is never gonna happen, atrevida. No matter how much I get hounded," he huffs in a faux-grumpy tone, but he can't help smile when you make a disappointed little grumble. "I think you're just being naughty to get a rise out of me, eh, malvadita?"

You hum dramatically before chiming, "Maybe," then pause, and sigh tiredly before musing, "It was nice, having the distraction…"

Javi hears the sadness just under your tone, and sits up on the cot.

"Querida…you want to talk about it?"

"No, I just…it's late, and I'm being silly. You get some rest, mi amor. I'll be better after tomorrow."

He frowns, running his hand impulsively through his hair to stifle the ache of not being able to instead pull you close and hold you tight. "Ok, preciosa. Sleep well. I love you."

"I love you too, mi cariñito. Be safe. Goodnight."

The solace you felt thanks to Javi promising to be home soon allowed you to go on autopilot whilst you got ready for work the following morning. It also helped that there was just one more day of feeling the pull of melancholy you were weary of fending off already. At least that was the mantra you were running in your head until someone knocked on your door.

You didn't expect your father to be on the other side when you answered it.

"Pá," you greet, bemused before frowning confusedly and asking, "Did we make plans—?"

"No, I just wanted to stop by and drop these off for you," is his remark as he greets you with a kiss on the cheek before crouching to pick up the box at his feet, along with the sturdy shopping bag filled with the viandas and frutas from Sunday you'd left in your haste the morning prior. "I, uh, figured you would be busy today, so figured I would drop them off before you left for work."

You smile as you take the bag from him so he can dutifully carry the box to your coffee table and place it onto an unoccupied corner. "Thanks. I was running late yesterday and it slipped my mind to grab them—"

"It's alright," he assures as he faces you and vacillates, as if unsure with what to do next. He scrubs the inside of his hand over his moustache and mouth as he glances over at the dining room table and sees the bouquet of flowers Javi gifted you for Valentine's. "Well, I'll leave you to it—"

"Dad."

He pauses and looks intently at you, and ends up being taken aback when you approach him to give him a thoughtful hug.

"I'll call you soon so we can have another paisa dinner," you whisper against his chest before clearing your throat and stepping back with a small smile.

Nodding, he kisses your forehead, relaxed as he drawls, "I'd like that very much, tesoro."

You chat a bit more on the way to the door – making sure not to address the heavy meaning of the day, and you part on good terms, waving goodbye to him as he heads for the elevator.

With a deep, cleansing breath, you go finish getting ready for work.

By the time you make it to the big meeting, you're feeling like you can hold it together. That you could maybe even get through the day. So much so, you get lost in some busy work when you get back to your office, the kind that make you start itemizing next steps on projects, department to-do's, forming an absent-minded itinerary of things you need to get to as soon as possible.

But then your mind becomes preoccupied with a sense of obligation, a nagging feeling like you're forgetting to do something. It's the kind of thing that feels like it's been routine – something meaningful, but no longer an option, and it needles you the entire time you trek back to your office, until it finally dawns on you.

Oh! I have to call 'Buela and—

The thought skids off the track and derails into a deep ravine of guilt and grieving, filling you with sorrow at the realization that this is the first anniversary you were without your grandmother.

It's like a cold dagger that seeps icy hurt into your chest, overwhelming you with melancholy.

On autopilot, you manage to scrape your wits together to not start bawling until you've made it to your car and driven out of the federal campus. By the time you make it to your apartment, you are frazzled and flushed from crying. The muggy heat is sweltering in the early and sunny afternoon, so you're quickly sprinting through the door and over to turn on the consola de aire acondicionado that's in the main living area before rushing to crank shut all the windows.

You make it into your bedroom and turn on the wall-mounted unit so that cool air can fill the space as you hastily strip out of your work clothes in order to sit and curl up into the pillows to have a good, long cry.

Once you've showered and gotten into the billowy dark gray t-shirt dress you favor for lazying around the house, you feel better enough to find ways to occupy your time – or at least to try to attempt to divert the melancholy threatening to have you fall into a grief spiral.

Looking over, you see the bag on the counter and the box of photos your father had dropped off to you that morning, and feel inspired with a couple of ideas on how to invest your attention into things that will absorb your time.

Hours later, you lean back into the couch and finish the gulp left in your wine glass before pouring a hearty refill from the bottle you've half drained since you'd set up shop in the living room.

You place it back down on the cool floor next to you as you shift forward to return to your project.

A short while later, once the buzz reaches your head, you take a healthy swallow of what's left in your glass and amble backwards up onto the cozy-throw-covered-couch so you can survey your progress. The box of photos is sat on the chair adjacent to the couch, and you have several photo albums arranged in varying stages of completion over the coffee table.

Leaning heavily into the couch cushion, you close your eyes and let the chill of the air-conditioned breeze fan over your toasty senses for a few minutes, before grabbing the VCR remote and pressing 'Play.'

The montage of home movies your father surprised you with begins to play where you'd paused it earlier.

Setting the wine glass aside and shoving the now-mostly-empty bowl of chips away so you could tuck your legs under you more comfortably and pull the cream blanket over your lap, you watch as the little toddler version of you dressed in blue overalls and little yellow sandals holds your mother's hand while she plucks a mango off of the tree in your grandmother's backyard. She places it down int a nearby basket, and you mimic her by picking up a fallen mango from the grass and dropping it into the same basket before tugging on her hand to continue over to the next mango you spot within reach.

Sniffling, you use the sleeve of your dress to dab at your teary eyes, lip trembling as you take in a cleansing inhale to try and clear the emotion from knotting in your throat.

You're startled when three knocks suddenly rap on your door, making you whirl inelegantly in your seat and perplexedly look around for something to tell you the current time. The VCR display says it's close to 4:30pm, which makes you sputter as you press 'Pause' on the remote and kick off your blanket in order to then rush to your feet.

"Un momento," you shout as you hastily shut the TV screen off and put the clutter of empty snack bowls down on the floor, and shove the tissues out of sight from the door before you rush over to unlock it and open it.

Javier stands at your threshold with his travel duffle hung on his shoulder while he holds a bouquet of pretty pink flowers in his hand.

You're so surprised to see him that you gasp and stare with flustered awe at him before bounding forward to throw your arms around his torso. A little 'oof' escapes him as he holds you to him with his strong forearm not currently occupied by the flowers or the weight of the travel bag.

Nuzzling you lovingly, he gets lost in the soft scent of your hair and how nice it feels to have you in his embrace.

You hug him tight as you bury your face in the soft cotton of his safari beige-toned button down, breathing in his warm scent before you snap to your slightly wine-dulled senses and stumble backwards to pull him into the apartment and out of the heat of the outside hall.

"Oh my god, w-when—what're you doing here?" you stammer as you fluster timidly, feeling too much of a mess suddenly.

"I took the earliest flight I could. Lopez stayed behind," he explains as he closes the door behind himself and sets his duffle aside by the entry to turn and hold out the lovely bouquet, murmuring sweetly, "These are for you."

Your heart flutters as you take the flowers and slowly realize they're pink gardenias. Deeply touched, you hug them to your chest and stare up with glossy, trembling eyes at him as you whisper airily, "You remembered?"

With a gentle smile, Javi nods, and you sniffle – overcome, when he pulls you close and kisses your forehead.

Pink gardenias were your mother's favorite flowers. You hadn't seen a pink gardenia since her funeral, so to see the gorgeous pink blossoms nestled together now – knowing that Javi went out of his way to get them to honor her? It has you feeling breathless.

You wrap your arm around his waist and lean into him, melting when he claims your lips with his own.

Hints of merlot still cling to your mouth, and he's just realizing you're seemingly not wearing anything under the cozy t-shirt dress when you lean back and look up at him with open emotion filling your expressive gaze, hugging the flowers to your bosom as you idly scrub the back of your hand across your tear-streaked cheek.

Javier's deep brown, soulful eyes crinkle at the corners as he tells you, "I, uh, know you were just gonna spend today alone, so I hope this is ok."

"I—" you begin and immediately pause when you realize the state you and the apartment are in. There are dishes in the sink, mail stacked carelessly onto the console by the phone, you hadn't gotten around to taking out the trash in the kitchen, several pairs of discarded shoes were left by the entry where he'd just left his bag, and the conspicuous clutter in the living room. It all causes you to feel shame.

"I-I would've gotten things sorted if I'd known you were coming today—that you were going through the trouble," you attempt while looking at the bouquet cradled in your arm, before flinching as you exclaim, "Oh! Let me get these in water—"

Bemused, he looks around and doesn't see what has you fretting, so he walks towards the couch and further into the nice air-conditioned space, as he assures, "It's no trouble, querida. I had to be back here for that meeting at La Fortaleza tomorrow—"

He spots the bunches of used tissues and bowls clustered on the floor by the corner of the couch. A quick glance at the clutter of albums and developed photo sleeves on the coffee table, as well as the bottle of wine tucked behind the leg of said table clue him into what you've been up to.

You're clumsily rifling through cabinets in search for a vase, and once you find the cylindrical shaped one from underneath the sink cupboard, you place it on the counter and notice Javier's made it over to the couch.

"Oh!" you fret as you scamper around the kitchen counter on nimble bare feet, and go to hastily scoop up the plates and bottle, fumbling with grabbing up the mess of tissues as well as you fuss, "Sit, sit! I'll clean up quick—"

"Let me help you," Javi attempts as he tries to take some of the clutter from your arms, but you recoil with embarrassment and rush back to the kitchen.

"N-No, just sit and relax. I—I'm just going to tidy up," you're thinly assuring as you toss the tissues into the zafacón, then place the dishes to clatter into the sink before hurrying to put the wine out of the way by placing it in the corner of the counter so you can quickly grab the vase. But before you can pivot around with it to run the tap and start filling it with water, you fumble it in your hold and it tumbles out of your hands to fall with a crash to the tiled floor. "Shit!"

He'd been already rounding the counter to come help, so he now rushes over to practically pick you up and maneuver you away from possibly stepping on any shards of glass, as he warns, "Careful, cariño."

Once he's placed you down in the hallway away from the broken glass, Javier spots a paper bag left on the elevated dining side of the counter top, so he grabs it and turns to sweep the larger shards together with the side of his boot as he assuages, "Here, I'll just scoop it into this—"

But you're already dashing into the laundry room and back with the broom and dustpan set, clumsily trying to disjoin them as you fluster, "I'll pick it up! Don't touch the glass, I can sweep it up and—"

You're so frazzled that you yank too hard, and the dustpan clatters to the floor while the broom bangs into the wall when you finally un-attach them.

A wave of something fragile, yet chaotic, swirls up in you, and you're not sure if it's the wide-eyed gape Javi gives you, or the scalding sense of embarrassment that lances through you now, that caused it to flare up like hot air in your chest. The latter has you feeling at your lowest. That he's seeing you be a pathetic, drunken mess, and that this whole thing seemingly is establishing what a disaster you truly are.

Whatever it is – likely a combination of everything – has you so mortified that you're suddenly letting the broom clang to the floor as you hide your face in your hands.

"I—I'm sorry. This—this is why I needed to be alone. I'm just a fucking mess," you haltingly hiss around the sobs now wracking through you. "I hate being like this—hate you seeing me like this—"

"Mi amor," Javi croaks thickly, throat feeling tight from how a tangle of conflicting feelings wedges in his windpipe, so he exhales gruffly and cuts the distance between you so he can pull you protectively into his chest, desperate to take your pain away, but helpless with how to do so. Consolingly, he husks, "You're not a mess at all—"

"Yes I am! I-I just keep falling apart, and here you are seeing it and s-seeing how pathetic and pitiful I am when I can't keep my shit together," you frustratedly exclaim as you wring away from him and angrily pick up the broom, as you rail, "I can't even pull it together a-and not scare you off—"

Watching you spiral is something Javier is bemused, stung, overcome and activated by, all at once. It rakes up so many feelings in him, and makes him burn with the compelling need to give you solace in any way he can. Seeing it happen the first time – when your grandmother had passed away – had branded him with a daunting sense of protectiveness over you. But unlike that time, you were truly adrift now, and not begging for him to tether you back and anchor you from the volatile, emotional tempest you were in. That was likely because you'd been drinking and had so much grief compounded within you over time, that you felt your only option was to suffer alone.

And he'd derailed that for you. So, he now had to haul you back from the chasm you were prepared to fling yourself into.

The broom isn't even in your grasp completely before it's flung away by Javi into the corner of the fridge and wall, just as he sweeps you away from the kitchen to be pressed between him and the hallway wall at your back. You gasp as adrenalin hits your bloodstream and zings a lurid thrill through you that clears the buzz enough for you to focus your wild stare on his purposeful glare.

"Do I look scared off, querida?" is his assertive, husky rhetorical question.

Brow furrowing, you shake your head insistently as you hiccup, "N-No, but—"

"Celina."

You pause and stare attentively at him now, feeling like a tuning fork just got chimed inside of your ribs by his firm, grounded baritone use of your name.

When he sees your eyes sharpen and your brows rise in anticipation, Javi cups your cheek with one hand while the other cradles your lower back. Your breath hitches, stare flicking to his mouth and back up to his smoldering gaze when he leans in and rumbles decisively, "I'm not letting you get all worked. You don't have to have all your shit together, especially today. You're going to let me clean this up, and you're going to stop trying to keep things bottled up."

Your eyes flutter at his command, but you're already stubbornly starting to protest, so Javier insists, "Listen to me, corazón. You can trust me. I don't think any less of you for 'not having it all together' today," and pauses to emphasize his point by resting his forehead to yours as he murmurs, "It's ok not to be ok."

Exhaling shakily, you close your eyes and curl vulnerably into him. You're so emotionally raw, that you can't even muster words.

Javier kisses the top of your head and lets you relax against him before he assures in a gravelly mutter, "Now, go sit for me. I'll clean this up quick."

He nuzzles the top of your hairline affectionately and pats your tush in a 'hop to it' gesture.

As soon as you've scooted onto the couch in a way that allows you to peer over at him, Javi goes to work picking up the large broken shards of the vase to plop them into the paper bag, then grabs the broom and swiftly sweeps up the smaller jagged pieces into the dustpan to be dropped in as well before be carefully closes the bag and shoves it into the now-full trashcan. Once he's sure he's gotten all the glass swept up and that there aren't any shards lingering in the bristles of the broom, he ties up the garbage bag preemptively before setting the broom and dustpan back down in the laundry room where they're stored.

You watch him the entire time, eyes wide and glossy with your pining, as he moves around the space while the anxiety still wriggles in your chest.

Getting to stare at his divine, perfect fit blue-jean-clad ass walk down the hall before he lopes back to come towards you makes delight palpitate some of the anxiety away, though. The kind of delight that tingles excitement in your core and makes you fidget with the heat of your arousal spiking through you now when Javi nears.

The air from the consola fans across you both, and while he's glad for the kiss of the cool breeze against his skin, he can't help notice how it's not cooling you down at all. Your cheeks are flushed, and you look a bit ruffled still, unaware that you're a bit wound up with self-conscious anxiety and yearning.

His dark-coffee brewed eyes lower appraisingly over you as he gets to the side of the couch – lingering on how your nipples are studding through the clingy fabric of the t-shirt dress. Seemingly mystified with the conflict you're exuding in your uncertain state, Javi hesitates on whether to sit next to you, before he settles his features into an earnest regard, and asks in a baritone rumble, "Did I do the wrong thing? Coming over, I mean."

You sit up on your knees and absently clutch the back cushion as you fluster, "N-No, you didn't do anything wrong—"

"I can leave, if you want," Javi says in a steadfast way, a hand at his hip while he gestures with the other to where his duffle sits, as he huffs, "I should've called before coming. It's fine, if you'd rather not have company—"

Deflating onto your haunches, you swallow the lump in your throat before professing tightly, "I don't want to be alone."

It's then Javi sees the indecision crease your brow, and realizes you're truly at a loss, and not used to being out of control like this; at having your desires in conflict and not having a way to regain your calm. He's never seen you so unsure and self-reproachful. It makes him realize you need coaxing towards stable ground.

"Querida. If you want me to stay, then you have to tell me so."

You blink in surprise, and Javier stands his ground – hands on his hips and expression etched in that assertive way from before, but this time his soulful eyes are crinkled almost goadingly at the corners.

A shiver goes up your spine.

"I want you to stay," you tell him, sitting on the couch with your legs folded under you, but still timid.

He cocks an eyebrow and leans his weight onto his left hip as he eyes you challengingly, drawing out in a smoky purr, "I don't believe you."

That gets the reaction he hoped for.

Your brows furrow together and your eyes narrow. "Oh, really. You don't believe me?" you mutter crossly before scooching to the edge of the cushion you're sitting on as you imperiously snark, "And what do I have to do for you to believe me then, hm?"

Javier smirks as he gives you a laconic one-shouldered shrug, before he croons, "Show me that you want me to stay."

A little fire of desire is set inside you at that, and all your squeamish, flustered embarrassment of before is snuffed out by your need to buck up against his challenge.

The buzz from the wine tickles through you still as you stare at him in that searing way that promises sultry, albeit wickedness, from you in response to his self-assuredness, but really, you're feeling the gumption bubble up and clear the fuzzy anxieties of before away. Especially the more you see his dark eyes begin to smolder with lust.

Licking his bottom lip while you stand on your bare feet and cut the short distance between you both, Javi feels anticipation curl deviant thrill up in his apex. That quickly becomes burning arousal when you stand up to him on your tippy toes and grab fistfuls of the front of his shirt to yank him down to meet your kiss.

He ends up hissing in surprise when you suckle on his bottom lip before nipping it possessively and growling, "I want you to stay, Javier."

The urge to just take you pulses in his veins and digs down into his loins, but he wants to wind you up some more – to get the angst and upset of before completely torn asunder; to be replaced with your vivacious, unabashed desires he's become so adept at stoking loose.

"Hmm, is that so?" Javi purrs in that incandescent grouse that always rakes over your titillated senses like sinful velvet, as he gropes his big hands down your curves puckishly before pulling you close so he can order in an audacious whisper, "Fucking prove it, then, bravita."

An exhilarated wave of arousal pulses through you and has you tingling with desire at his instigating command. You want to just pounce on him, but something daring and needy has you wanting to wind him up right back. To rile the urge you saw flash across his dark eyes earlier back to the surface and entice him into carnal hunger with you.

Javier is surprised when you lean back from his embrace and worry your bottom lip between your teeth as you encircle his left wrist and cup his hand, leading it up your skirt and between your thighs.

"I want you to stay, and I want you," is your silky whisper as you guide his digits to touch your warm and bare pussy, emphasizing your point by grinding your slick seam over the pads of his fingers as you look searingly into his hungry stare and ask airily, "Do you want me, mi amor?"

He was hard when you slipped his hand up your skirt, and he's straining against his jeans now from your provocative question while rubbing your dripping cunt along his fingers.

"More than anything," he hoarsely mutters as he starts to part your folds.

At his answer, you nimbly scamper back and out of his reach suddenly, and Javi's expression is priceless when you grin and lilt, "Then fucking prove it, guapito."

It's so brazen and goading, the way you got him wrapped around your little finger only to then snap him back – to push the deviant, primal buttons that spin lurid desire up in him and have him unleashing all his suppressed urges. That provoke him to dominate you in a feral way that has a visceral shudder quivering through him.

Before you can even attempt to sprint off like you'd planned to, Javier's already lassoed his arm around you and pinned you to him as he grabbed the hem of your dress and yanked it up and over your head in a brusque movement that has you gasping and teetering in his hold. He effortlessly spins you around to wring the material off and flings it carelessly away before he manhandles you down onto your hands and knees to the blanket-covered-couch as he hurriedly yanks his belt buckle loose and makes short work of opening his fly.

You're mewling and arching back excitedly when he drops onto his knees behind you and quickly lines himself up before he plunges his ramrod erection into you to the hilt with a rough groan.

His hips slam into you and cause you to almost fold forward, so Javi grips the back of your shoulder and guides you roughly down to position you in a way that'll have you at his mercy, but able to hold onto the armrest for balance.

Just as you arch your spine to rock back into his next thrust, Javi crowds over you and dominates the hell out of you now.

The air-conditioning unit hums along in the ambient beat of the fan swaying to and fro while the sounds of you getting railed by Javi echoes in the living room, getting louder and louder as his pounding thrusts become piston-like slams angled up into that devastating spot inside you.

"Ah! Mmph, oh Javi—" you cry out, feeling spun up by the sensory overload of his weight pressing into you, his cologne and sweat permeating your own overheated scent, his gruff groans and growls of savage approval at how you're reveling in how he's taking you, and the taste of him now when he plunders your mouth with his own in a greedy kiss.

When Javi maneuvers a hand to tease his fingers over the hood of your clit, you whimper, "Nngth!" and break the torrid kiss to bow into the couch cushion under the onslaught of overstimulation.

Your silken walls clench hard around him, making Javi moan and nuzzle you lovingly before he shifts back to balance his weight and take hold of your waist to ground you both in the building crescendo of scintillating sensation that's propelling you both into a tizzy towards release.

He's enthralled on how you're moaning broken little sounds of ecstasy the harder and faster he fucks into your squelching cunt from behind, and he watches you under heavy lids as you reach a hand backwards to cling to his forearm as his grip on your waist becomes more possessive – desperate, even.

Your sheath is fluttering with impending climax, and the throaty way you begin to beg, 'Javi-Javi-Javi!' has something scalding tangling in his chest and making him wild with the need to wreck you with daunting pleasure – the kind that will make you rapturous and euphoric.

Just as your coupling hits an animalistic zenith, you sob his name before wailing a reedy sound as you climax, gushing your orgasm as your sheath clamps down around his cock.

"Oh fuck—!" is Javier's guttural grunt before he pants a harsh groan as his release barrels through him, stealing his breath and having him buckle forward to crowd over you.

In this heightened state, you can feel his climax surge deep inside of you while his heartbeat throbs against your back. The dizzying delight you experience at the bloom of warmth radiating in your womb has you sighing out a luscious sound that makes Javi melt into you.

Before his knees gave out, Javier wraps his arms around you and rolls sidelong into the sofa's back cushions in order to keep you folded backwards into him so he can worshipfully cuddle and nuzzle you while you both recover.

The post-coital bliss has you blitzed out in the most wonderful way. You're dreamily sighing as you come back down from the stratosphere and affectionately interlace your fingers with the hand caressing your womb. As your body temperature begins to normalize, you feel the chill in the air and the cool press of the steel from his watch's band as the wrist it's attached to rests against your sternum. The palm of his hand is just below your clavicle, thumb sweeping soothing along the delicate skin while he noses into the sweaty hair at your nape.

Dimly, you reach around your side to shift your hips so you can turn to kiss him over your shoulder, and end up comically realizing Javier got you completely naked, but left himself fully clothed. He didn't even get a chance to kick off his boots.

"Oh my god," you snicker before caressing your palm along the length of his jean-clad lower thigh before simpering, "Babe, how are you even comfortable like this?!"

He snorts and nudges his temple affectionately against you as he deadpans, "M'not. You got me so riled up though. Stripping down was not a priority."

You laugh, light and effervescent, grinning when he nuzzles your neck and grunts a silly sound.

"Well, it's a priority now, chavón," you simper between giggles as you undulate your hips into him. "Desnúdate, ahora."

Javier impishly pinches your waist and grunts at your order of 'Get naked, now' before eagerly shifting you up with him so he can comply, laughing warmly when you start to help him undress by unbuttoning his beige shirt with hasty fingers, yanking it open and off his shoulders while he hurriedly, and simultaneously, kicks his boots and pushes his jeans off.

Once naked, Javi murmurs, "Lay back for me," and helps you adjust to lie length-wise on the sofa as he maneuvers to sit between your parted legs.

The cool air caresses over you both and keeps you from overheating while Javi takes some tissues from the box on the side table and tends to you. Tenderly swiping up the spill of his seed that's weeping from your still tingling pussy, he makes sure to be delicate with his aftercare so you can relax.

You sigh blissfully and close your eyes as you reach for him after he's set the sullied tissues aside.

"Feel better?" he rumbles when he cuddles up with you across the length of the couch. You nod and tuck yourself against him, so he wraps his arm around your waist and gives you a loving squeeze, as he drawls, "Good."

While you're cooling down together, Javi combs his fingers through the back of your hair soothingly while you caress yours along his forehead and brow, occasionally brushing your lips over his, and sighing happily when he presses soft kisses to your cheek and jaw.

When you start to shiver from the air conditioning, he tries to pull the edge of the throw blanket around you, but much of the length of it is pinned underneath you both, so he murmurs, "Wanna take a hot shower?"

You nod, but before Javier can start sitting up, you hook your leg over his hip and silkily lilt, "But first, I wanna take care of this," and coax his semi into a full erection with a few strokes of your hand before guiding it to your primed entrance.

His groan of approval is quickly followed by him plunging his cock slowly in before maneuvering you both on the sofa so that he can be on his back while you ride him with sensual gusto.

After the amazing romp, you both take a long shower together, dry off, and end up in your bed.

You're under the quilt while Javi lounges with his hands tucked behind his head and in his nude glory, reclined against the propped-up pillows and enjoying the air conditioning in your bedroom while you both talk. He'd noticed you'd moved the vase with the flowers he'd gotten you for Valentine's to the top of your dresser, so you'd explained that you'd intended to pick out some of them so you could tie them together and hang them to dry out in order to preserve them.

"—I'll have to take those out so I can put the new ones you brought in that vase," you're remarking as you shuffle into a sitting position as if you're about to get out of bed and do so now.

Javi tows you close by lassoing his forearm around your waist as he sits propped up on his elbow. "So you're saying you've kept flowers from every single bouquet you've ever gotten?" is his puckish query, giving you a faux haughty look as you scoff.

"No, silly! I've only preserved a few flowers from meaningful arrangements," you insist as you pat his forearm to be let loose so you can shimmy out of bed, and then go retrieve a large ornate cardboard box with an attached flip-open lid and scamper back with it.

He sits up and pulls the quilt back for you so you can slide under it once you've placed the box onto the bed, and gives you his undivided attention as you open the box and reveal that it's where you place very sentimental mementos – including an assortment of individually preserved flowers. Each are wrapped with a ribbon that has the date you received them listed in your handwriting. Along with the flowers are letters, postcards, and other special keepsakes.

"See? These are from the first bouquet you gave me, in Medellín," you tell him as you pull out a trio of preserved red roses tied together by a white ribbon. He is surprised to see indeed, you have the date and location written on it too, and he almost misses your pensive smile as you add, "'Buela saved them for me."

Javi glances at you intently then, so you clear the lump in your throat and retrieve the next trio of dried flowers.

"These are from the time you surprised me for my birthday," is your musing now, smiling as you place them back and gesture to a few others and recite, "These are from my maid of honor bouquet at Irina's wedding, and these are from the arrangement at my cousin's reception—"

You pause before pointing out the white lilies from your grandmother's wake, and the pink gardenias from your mother's velorio, feeling that prickle of grief begin to crest up in you.

Sensing it, Javi interjects in a searching drawl, "What about the roses from the arrangement I had Marisol leave in your office?"

Blinking comically at him, the melancholy is forgotten as you scoff and snipe, "Nope! I didn't get a chance to. And anyway, all of these I saved because they're to honor the moment, or for me to keep the happy memory, and when I saw those roses? I was livid."

His brows rise and his pouty lips are inviting when he irreverently gripes, "So you would've saved flowers from the grand arrangement that mystery admirer had sent to your office—?"

"No, because once you told me you hadn't sent them, I let Ellis take them," you bossily cut in and pat his bare thigh conciliatorily as you tease, "Take a look, tough guy. Only ones I've kept, are yours."

Grunting contrarily, Javi purses his lips and grumbles in a faux huff, "But someone delivered a whole flower shop's worth to you—"

You exhale glibly and busily organize all the flowers to be delicately stored in the box as you sing song, "Yes, mi amor, I've gotten lots of flowers from lots of guys in the past, but you're the only one who's given me a bouquet and made me feel warm and fuzzy, so those are the ones that matter enough to be kept."

You look over at him then, pure moxie in your bright eyes, and Javier feels that funny feeling in his chest that's a combination squeeze and flutter of happiness.

The molten look in those brown orbs makes you tingle, so when he slides the box away in order to gather you to straddle his lap, you're feeling alight. And then he wraps you up in his arms and hugs you so fiercely that all you can do is loop yours around his shoulders and nuzzle into his neck lovingly.

"I felt the same way, giving them to you," he tells you in a soft murmur after you soothingly comb your hand through the back of his hair and kiss the soft skin between his ear and sideburn. At your loving cuddle, he smirks and nudges his temple affectionately into yours as he mutters, "Show me how you pick the flowers and preserve them?"

Smiling against his cheek, you give him a cheeky squeeze before doing just that.

Once the trio of flowers are picked from the bouquet and you've tied a string around the end of the stems and hung them to dry on the curved loop of the dresser's mirror, you rewrap the ribbon around the remaining bouquet and rinse out the vase so you can place the lovely pink gardenias in it.

The entire time, you're telling Javi about the day you spent with your father. He smiles, happy to hear your sentiments, and frankly relieved that it was a mostly pleasant occasion.

When you've finished arranging the flowers, Javi pulls on a pair of sweatpants you'd stored in a drawer for him while you retrieve your silky robe and put it on after having proposed ordering delivery for dinner.

"—All I made were viandas, so want me to order pizza?" you're asking as you pick up the vase now.

"Sure. Whatever you want, cariño," he tells you and chivalrously takes the vase from you and gestures with a nod of his head for you to lead the way.

Feeling a giddy tickle in your tummy, you playfully tow him along by the drawstring of his sweatpants to exit your room and enter the guest bedroom.

He sees you've adjusted your altar of family photos to now include the silver-framed photo of you, your mother, and your grandmother in the center, with a tall continental candle lit next to it. There was a vacant spot on the dresser that Javi places the gardenias onto for you, and before he's able to move back, you take his hand and guide him to stand in front of the wide dresser with you.

"I dreamt about her the other night. Sometimes, I wonder what she'd think – about everything, I mean. What it would be like for her to be around – for you to have met her," you're confessing in a faraway tone, staring at the photo of your mother before glancing up at Javi and smiling dreamily at him, as you admit softly, "I think she would've loved you."

His brown eyes almost shimmer with how the candlelight flickers across them when he caresses his palm to the small of your back while he cups your cheek gently with his warm palm, thumb tracing along the apple of it as he rumbles, "I feel the same, querida. I know my mother would've. I bet they would've gotten along, too."

The sentiment warms your heart, and makes you lean into him so you can stand on your tippy toes and brush a doting kiss over his scrumptious lips.

All the gloomy melancholic feelings of before have been blown away by the beaming unconditional love Javier has given you – by how unrelentingly passionate and tender and irreverent he's been since he showed up at your door like the handsome sweetheart he is.

The rest of the evening is calm.

After you called in for the pizza order, Javier pulled on his college shirt and took out the garbage for you. By the time he was breezing back in, you'd stored the verduras in containers and were finishing with the dishes. He strolled over to start drying the dishware for you while teasing you about being so flustered over nothing earlier.

"—Acted like the place was condemned—"

"I was embarrassed!"

"Over a few dishes and tissues?"

"Not just that. All the clutter, the garbage—"

"Baby, you've not seen clutter. You missed out on the pigsty Steve's place was after Connie went back to Miami. That was some real shit to be mortified by—"

"Ay Javi," you snicker ruefully and cut the faucet before drying your hands on the towel hung on the decorative rack, sighing to yourself before you concede, "The mess felt like a manifestation of how much of a mess I was today…"

Stowing the glass currently in his hand in the cabinet, Javi turns and herds you close by your hip before murmuring, "I know today was hard for you, preciosa. But you don't ever need to feel like you have to keep that bottled up. You can tell me what you need. I should've called before just showing up—"

"No, I just have always thought it would be better to just be alone today…but I didn't want to be alone," you stare up at him with gleaming eyes, worrying your bottom lip before confiding, "It felt safer."

He understands what you mean, but the pang that courses through him is still a sharp one. Hearing you say so and knowing how you've suffered alone out of a lonesome need to protect yourself from more pain has him yearning to be that safe space for you, and leaves him simmering with the need to prove that to you.

Just as he's about to assure that he'll do whatever you need to feel safe, no matter how silly or what not you might feel about it, your house phone starts to ring.

You pick up the phone where you left it on the counter and answer it. "Yes, thank you. Please let them up," you instruct before thanking the night attendant and going to return the phone to the charging base. "Pizza's here. Oh! Let me go put something on," you say hurriedly as you scamper down the hall to put on clothes in order to answer the door.

Of course, though, when you rush back in the matching stretch-knit mint-colored pajama bottom and blouse, Javier's already handing the delivery guy cash and taking the large pizza box, thanking him before quickly shutting the door to keep the cool air in and prevent you from trying to argue with him about it.

"Javi—"

"Hot stuff, comin' through," he retorts glibly as he maneuvers around your cross-armed stance to head to the kitchen. "And the pizza's sizzling, too."

You snicker at his quip and shake your head, relenting in even attempting to admonish him.

"Mmhmm, 'hot stuff' indeed, gracioso," you chuckle and jokingly pat his ass on the way around him to grab plates.

A couple of slices between you and a glass of wine each a short while later, and you're lounging on the sofa together, watching the home video from the start.

Javier loved seeing the younger versions of you – going from adorable baby to sassy elementary-aged little girl – and was intrigued to see the slivers of loving interactions between your parents. Your mother was stunning and sardonic, almost precocious, with a brilliant smile and bright eyes you'd inherited from her. And your father seemed like a completely different person than the hardscrabble, intimidating man with steel in his bones that you'd described previously. Instead, he seemed a wide-smiling, charismatic and wry romantic.

And when the video was rewinding in the VCR, you retrieved the big photo album that had once been your grandmother's and showed him how you'd added some of the new pictures you'd gotten from your father. There was a really nice photo of you as a toddler, holding hands with your father while walking up a hill, and the look in his chiseled features was of pure love for the little girl you were.

"—Oh! And look at these," you're excitedly exclaiming as you pick up a prettily adorned album and show him it contains the photos from your cousin's wedding. You place it on his lap before sitting next to him with your legs tucked under you as you chime, "God, that was such a fun night."

His full lips pull into a mischievous smile as he goes through the photos. "Back in the hotel room? Sure was," he quips, earning a playful swat on his bicep. When he flips to the page that has the photo of you, him and your grandmother, posing at the table together, he's overcome with fondness.

You sniffle, and he quickly clears his throat as he puts his arm around you and kisses the top of your hairline.

With a deep sigh, you sit up and grab for a newer album. It has a shiny cover of blue-on-blue leaf pattern print. As you open it, you amusedly murmur, "Figured we needed our own."

Javi peers down at the open album sitting on your lap, and the delighted pride that fills his chest radiates across his features at seeing the first picture you'd taken together – back in the hotel room in Cartagena. Next to it was the photo of Javi hugging the pillow in his sleep, and below both was the picture you took of him with the sunset warming his handsome visage. When you flipped to the next page, he was taken aback to see you'd clipped out the photo from the newspaper article that had you both standing only a couple people apart, and on the adjacent page was the picture from the Valentine's Day double date with Steve and Connie.

"I still have the doubles from the wedding I can add—" you're telling him when you glance up and find his brown eyes flicking to you with something smoldering that makes a flash of thrill tickle into your core, and before you can finish talking, Javier is kissing you passionately until the album slips from your lap onto the couch from him whisking you up to be cradled against him.

It's all he can do to express just how enamored and happy you make him.

The urge to profess so many things – to blurt out 'Marry me, querida,' – swirl in his heart and have Javier buzzing, but he knows it's not the right time. That you've just achieved a hard sought-after sense of calm, and things between you both were hopeful, albeit delicate.

No, he would wait. He had to, considering there was still so many things he needed to accomplish before being able to drop down onto a knee and ask you.

You're swooning by the time Javier carries you bridal style to bed, having barely had enough time to turn the TV off and place the album back onto the coffee table with the others before he swept you up against him.

Being snuggled against him, skin-to-skin after making love, had you serene – feeling like you wanted to stay still in the moment with him forever.

Waking up early the next morning in his arms was divine, but since he had the meeting at the Fortaleza first thing, you forced him out of bed and into the shower so you could iron his shirt and pants for him. By the time he came back into the bedroom with a towel around his waist, you were already in the kitchen, setting the cafetera onto the stove. He couldn't help smile at how you've picked out a light gray suit, crisp dress shirt, and a necktie already, laying it out on the bed for him.

"Do you want something to eat?" you call out while you retrieve the coffee mugs.

"I'll have whatever you're having," Javi answers back as he quickly dresses. Once he's got everything on but his blazer and dress shoes, he pads down the hall while he fusses with his tie. "Don't go to too much trouble though—"

"I'm just going to heat up the viandas and boil some eggs then," you'd started to say as he started to remark, so you snicker and pause at the stove when he snorts and looks irreverently at you. "What? You said whatever I was having. This is a desayuno típico."

"All right, I'll try it," he assures as he keeps fiddling with his tie. You scoff humorously and swat his hands away so you can do it for him, smiling when he croons, "You trying to turn me into a jibarito?"

"Maybe," you joke and purse your lips teasingly at him as you smoothen his collar and straighten the red, silver and white-striped tie into place for him. "Are you going to the office after the meeting at La Fortaleza?"

"Yeah. The building we're setting up shop in for the DEA field office operations is almost ready, so Steve and me have to spend the afternoon deciding how to divvy up the teams between there and the Federal campus," he explains while you heat up the food and hard boil the eggs after taking the coffee kettle off the burner and setting it aside to cool.

He dutifully serves the coffee into the two mugs you set out while you work around the kitchen as you ask, "So then you'll be splitting your time up between the field office and the main building?"

"Probably not. I'm thinking on stationing Segarra at the field office and staying in the Federal building," he muses before taking a sip of his coffee. He leans his hip into the counter, watching you retrieve bowls from the cabinet before you serve the reheated plátano, ñame, guineo, and panapén into each.

"Oh, that's your ASAC, right?" you query as you retrieve the eggs with a cooking spoon and run cold water over them before removing each from their shell and placing one in each bowl with the viandas. At his dry grunt of acknowledgement, you multitask sprinkling a pinch of salt into each bowl before drizzling olive oil over the meal while inquiring, "So why don't you like the guy?"

Licking his lips of the coffee, he gives a one-shouldered shrug, griping, "He's just an upstart with no real experience. And he's tried to be a get-over, and cut corners—"

"That doesn't sound familiar," you razz as you grab a fork for each of you and wink playfully at him when he frowns with comical displeasure. "Come sit and eat, chulito," is your flirty order as you saunter by him with the food, musing lightly, "You can tell me all about it."

Javier does, explaining all the reasons why he doesn't like Segarra while you have breakfast together at the glass table, after marveling how tasty the campesino-inspired peasant dish really was.

By the time he has to head out for the early meeting, you're seeing him off at the door with an amorous kiss.

"Good luck, agente," you sweetly coo before brushing a rogue wisp of hair back from his forehead for him.

"I'll need it, jefa," he husks and pinches your hip affectionately before giving you a peck on the lips and heading out to the tropically sunny morning.

You feel lighter than you have in days. Like the world has gone still around you and is content to remain blissful, no matter what.

You're practically floating when you get to work later that morning.

All the missed messages and memos don't even make a dent into your serene mood, and even the latest HR nonsense regarding administrative box checking doesn't faze you. Frankly, by the time you're checking emails, you start day dreaming – letting a fantasy unspool in your mind about living a charmed life with Javier. Of being lovestruck peasants who frolic through a countryside meadow and lay in the cool grass together while watching the clouds go by.

Quit being so silly! You have to admonish yourself of the flights of fancy in order to concentrate on your work, but a girlish smile still ghosts your lips as you resume your task.

It's hours later when Javi is in his office, going over the stacks of evidence Lopez had shipped via courier from Santo Domingo. Sans his light gray blazer, he's able to more comfortably stretch out the weary muscles in his back before absently loosening the knot of his tie, eyes remaining glued to the document he's currently skimming over.

After the bureaucratical meeting at the Governor's mansion that morning, he was glad to be back to focusing on the case at hand. He didn't feel cut out for the political jockeying, and while he held his own with the officials and had a pleasant enough exchange with the governor, Javier didn't like going to those kinds of things without something substantial to show. At the very least, though, he had assurances of more cooperation with cabinet departments regarding the leads he wanted to chase down in the privately-owned sectors.

And the promise to put pressure on other leaders in the Caribbean region when it came to cooperating in a joint trans-national task force was one that he felt he could at least believe at face value, for once.

He was just thinking of calling Lopez to check in with him when three swift knocks rap on his closed door.

"Come in," he distractedly calls out as he skims a line at the bottom of a financial disclosure form, trying to make out the signature.

"Is this a good time, Agent Peña?"

Javi whips his attention up to blink surprisedly across at you, almost awestruck to see you peeking around the slightly ajar door. You're in a chic burgundy blouse and matching trouser that looks tailored to perfection on you, hair swept back from your face and up in a bouncy ponytail.

"Celi—I mean, Director Reinosa. Y-Yes, I was just looking over something. Come in," Javi stammers and corrects as he stands from his desk and gestures for you to enter his office.

When you step in, it's then he notices the takeout bag you're holding in one hand. He can see through the momentary vacant sightline out to where his admin's desk faces his door, and spots that the woman seemingly just returned and was shooting him a questioning look. So, Javi intercepted closing the door behind you, and gestured to her in a way that spoke clearly before shutting the door: Do not disturb.

"I figured you hadn't bothered with getting lunch, so I thought we could have a do-over?" you unconcernedly muse as you hold up the bag to show him the logo of the Japanese restaurant from a few weeks prior, leaning up on the tippy toes of your black heels and kissing him on his lips before flouncing towards the sitting area in the corner of his office to unpack the bag onto the glass coffee table in front of the leather couch and side chair.

The unruffled, carefree confidence you're exuding – how unabashedly unconcerned you are about being seen together at work, let alone that you've set up an impromptu lunch date in his office – has heat blooming in his chest, making his heart skip a beat.

As you're setting out the different containers of food, you lilt sardonically, "I took the liberty of ordering you something I thought you'd like more than sushi, and grabbed you more than chopsticks to use this time."

Rolling up his shirt sleeves to his elbows, Javi comes over to join you, and ends up smiling when you kick off your heels and sit lotus style on the carpeted floor instead of the couch before grabbing his steak hibachi meal and handing it to him. He crouches down to sit next to you, and only after you've set everything out and popped the tabs on the soda cans, does he lean over and kiss your cheek.

You grin, giving him a knowing look, so he whispers conspiratorially, "Is this your subtle way of saying we need to disclose our relationship status to Mercer soon?"

"Only if you don't want to sneak around anymore," is your silly counter as you snap your chopsticks apart and prepare to pick up a piece of salmon sushi, as you add, "We can't really go crazy with PDA even after it's known—"

"So I can't just kiss you in the lobby, in front of everyone, you mean?" is his taunt, eyes crinkling mirthfully when you blow a raspberry imperiously at him and squeeze his knee.

"I've had my fill of HR bureaucracy already, fresco," is you snicker, earning a droll hum from him. "So? How was the meeting?"

Javi catalogues all the food in the container before answering, "It was alright. I spoke with the governor for a bit."

"Oh?" you ask before eating a piece of sushi.

"Yeah. He's really gun-ho about the Mano Dura initiative. Promised to make headway with other officials across the Caribbean. Which is good, since we kept hitting roadblocks in Santo Domingo," he remarks before digging into his meal, humming with gusto.

Chewing thoughtfully, you take a sip of your drink before pointing out, "You haven't really talked much about the investigation here. If you don't want to—"

He shakes his head before dabbing his mouth with a napkin to assure, "No, it's just different here. Plus, we've been busy, catching up with each other."

You smile, licking your lips self-consciously before conceding, "True."

"And anyway, I'm still trying to make heads and tails out of things here as it is. We don't have a typical cartel dynamic, like with Medellín and Cali. It's been challenging, figuring out the players, how they network," he elaborates before eating a forkful of fried rice.

You hum thoughtfully, before commenting, "You're right. I haven't really thought about it, but crime is discussed in opaque terms here. There's no reporting on Escobar-level figures or anything like that."

"Exactly. Which is strange. It's starting to make me suspect that it might be by design," Javier rumbles before blinking at your surprised look. "I only mean that things might be more insulated here. Escobar and the Cali Godfathers started on the outside and wormed their way into controlling things by threat and corruption. I'm wondering if it's a different setup here."

That makes you hum bemusedly as you sip your drink.

Deciding to change the subject, Javi leans in to whisper cockily in your ear, "Can we fool around in my office, this time around?"

Huffing sarcastically, you nudge him wryly with your shoulder and sassily scathe, "How long have you been wanting to ask that, beyako atrevido?"

He showily nuzzles your neck, feeling heat zing through his veins at your lovely perfume and warm skin, growling before he gravels, "Only since you sat here licking your lips, smelling fucking good, looking so goddamn sexy."

An exhilarated flutter of desire skitters into your core and makes your pussy throb.

"Well then, I suppose I'll have to make it up to you, sometime," is your silky murmur before looping your fingers around his tie and towing him closer so you can kiss him sultrily on the lips.

Fuck, Javi thinks to himself, beyond turned on now. But even he isn't shameless enough to take a nooner in his office, with a bustling department just beyond his closed door. The filthy allure of it has him so aroused, though, that you end up having to nip his bottom lip when he tries to deepen the kiss into a torrid make-out session.

"Mmph!"

"Down, boy."

"…That's easier said than done, bravita."

You giggle at his grumpy pout, and irreverently use your chopsticks to pick up a piece of hibachi steak in order to feed it to him. He snorts and eats it, winking at you when you hum a silly sound that communicates, 'Be good now?'

The rest of lunch is great, and you depart with a smooch to his smiling lips before exiting with the bag in your grip, leaving only the aromatic scent of the meal as the only evidence of your date in the spacious office.

With all the planning and arrangements for the field office setup, Javier would be busy the next few days, but had asked if you wanted to go to dinner at Steve and Connie's Sunday night when you'd talked on the phone later that night. You were excited for it, and even picked up a nice bottle of wine and whiskey to take over when you went food shopping after the work the following day.

You're merrily humming to yourself as you carry the grocery bags up from your car and enter the lobby of your condo, already thinking of how much you were looking forward to spending the time with Javier and the other couple, when the attendant called out to you.

"Señorita, there was a delivery for you. I didn't want to leave it at your door," the man explains as he retrieves a small bouquet of pink carnations from behind the counter.

You rush over, surprised, and thank the man, taking the cellophane-wrapped flowers that were tied with a baby pink bow with you.

A dreamy smile pulls at your lips as you ride up in the elevator. He must've sent them, just because – and so they'll eventually end up joining the collection preserved in the box. The thought makes you gleeful, so as soon as you're off the elevator, you hustle with everything to your apartment door, unlock it, breeze in, and place the grocery bags on the kitchen counter before walking over to the sofa to sit so you can delicately fish the card out from where it's tucked beyond the stems and sticking to the wrapper.

Plucking it out and free, you set the carnations down on the cushion next to you so you can open the card. It has a simple 'Thinking of you…' written in cursive on the cover.

When you skim the message, your giddiness deflates into perplexed uneasiness, instantly.

Being a shallow, uncaring hypocrite. You deserve to be exposed for it. Only a matter of time.

There was no signature. No other identifiable way to know who the author was, or what they were even referencing.

You were left befuddled first, unnerved second.

Staring down at the carnations, you vacillate with what to do.

You're unaware that the decision you eventually make will only lead to an unexpected confrontation that will tip things into a precarious sequence of events you're woefully unprepared for. Nor do you know how it will change everything in your life.

All you do know, is that you aren't interested in letting anything affect your happiness, so, you decided not to let it.

  ________________

Read Chapter 44: Deserving - Part 1

Spanish-English Glossary:

Papisongo = Puerto Rican slang for a very sexy man; a stud

Malvadita = Wicked little girl

Mi amor = My love

Muecas = Making funny faces

Coquí = Puerto Rican singing tree frog; named for the sound he croaks

Plaza = Marketplace, or stronghold. In reference to the cartels, it means the general territory, or square of power

Caserío = Public housing; housing project

Hermosa/hermoso = beautiful (female); beautiful (male)

Canela = Cinnamon

Guapita = Sassy/foxy/daring/testy lady

Seductora = Seductress

Chavón = A man that's pestering you

Bravita= Tough girl; feisty girl

Mi rey = My king

Dios mío = My god

Mi cariñito = My sweet little darling

Beyako = Puerto Rican slang for horny/naughty guy; akin to "horn dog"

Bebito = Little baby (male)

Eres mi vida, preciosa = You're my life, precious girl

Chulo/Chulito = Cute guy; little cutie

Corazón = Heart; pet name to signify how deeply you love someone

Querida/querido = Affectionate term, akin to expressing one's want and desire

Mija = Short for mi hija, aka my daughter; my girl

Pá = Short for 'Papá' which means father, or poppa

Chistosa = Funny girl; wisecracker (female)

Parcha = Passionfruit

Tesoro = Treasure; darling

Toño Leña = Nickname that roughly translates to 'Tony Firewood'

El Muñecón = Nickname that roughly translates to 'The Doll Boy"

Viandas = Root vegetables, like plantains (plátanos), yams (ñames), green bananas (guineos) and breadfruit (panapén)

Estamos en el campo = We're out in the country

Jibarita = A little peasant girl

Campesina = Country girl; farm girl

Ron = Rum

En el monte = [Up] In the hill

Finca = Rural property

Mofongo con camarones a la criolla = Fried, mashed plantains with creole stewed shrimp

Arróz mamposteao y bistec encebollado = Stewed rice and beans and steak soaked in onions

Gandules = Pigeon peas

Arróz con gandules = Rice with pigeon peas

Carne guisada = Beef stew

Aguacate = Avocado

Brazo gitano = A Spanish cake roll based from a Swiss-roll-like pastry dessert that resembles a "Gypsy's arm", popular on the West side of Puerto Rico

Marquesina = Open air garage or carport

¿Que haces con eso? = What're you doing with that?

Bellísima = Beautiful woman; 'Most beautiful woman'

Ay Diego = Oh Diego

Vamos, bellísima = C'mon, most beautiful woman

La fiera = The savage girl; wild beast

Salió a ti, chistoso = She takes after you, funny guy

Es pura hija tuya = She's purely your daughter

Con huevonadas = With stupid nonsense

Ah pues bien = Oh, well fine then

Mi bellísima = My most beautiful woman

Hola, nena = Hey, girl

Llámame = Call me

Jevo = Puerto Rican slang for boyfriend

Mandón = Bossy man

Cariño = Darling/sweetheart

Mira quien habla = Look who's talking

Cariño = Darling/sweetheart

Guapísimo = Super hot and handsome

El señorito Javi sabe chingar = Little mister Javi knows how to fuck

Papi chulo = Ladies man

Detalles ahora, doña =Details now, missus

Amante = Lover

Que eres el amante más asombroso de mi vida = That you're the most amazing lover of my life

Cristo amado = Christ beloved

Atrevido/Atrevida = Daring man/Daring woman

Preciosa = Gorgeous; precious

Paisa = Colombian compatriot; term of endearment amongst Colombians, especially in Medellín

Consola de aire acondicionado = Air conditioning unit/console

Un momento = One moment

Zafacón = Trashcan

Guapito = Handsome (said in an affectionate diminutive)

Desnúdate, ahora = Get naked, now

Velorio = Wake; veiling ceremony where people sit vigil

Verduras =Vegetables; usually root vegetables

Gracioso = Funny guy

desayuno típico = Traditional, or typical breakfast

Jibarito = Little peasant boy

La Fortaleza = The Puerto Rican Governor's office and mansion; aka 'The Puerto Rican White House'

Jefa = Boss lady

Fresco = a guy who's being 'fresh', or naughty/pervy Señorita = Miss; little lady

Thanks for reading! Please consider leaving a comment and sharing your feedback. I would be eternally grateful. 

#Heat - Narcos fanfic #narcos fan fiction #narcos fanfiction #Javi x Querida #Javi Peña #Javier Peña #Javilina #Javi Peña x Latina OFC #Pedro Pascal characters #Javi Peña fan fiction #Javi Peña fanfiction #Narcos #Latina OFC

[ask-de-writer]

Look who came back to visit!

#wildlife #visiting javilina #wildlife around the place

[flannelfoxen]

out of curiosity, do you get more of the money from people going through PayPal or just buying it off ebay (or about the same)? specifically looking at the juvenile javilina skull on your ebay 👀

also I gotta ask how much on a cougar pelt and the piebald coon (I'm guessing it's the faceless one you posted a bit back?)

Hmm PayPal probably has less fees. Nobody really bids on my stuff so it just sells at the buy it now price anyway.

For the c.ougars, the vintage one on the left is absolutely massive but is not good quality at all. Probably $400. For size alone.

The one on the right has feet, claws, face, tail, etc, and no noticeable flaws. Hunted in Colorado in 2015. Old but not falling apart like the other one. Looks really nice. $1,000

Piebald racc.oon. It’s so rare but it’s also ripped. 😭 They did him dirty. Maybe $300 for the rarity but also the condition.

#ask #answrs

[johnrandbearartist]

baby javilina

#snow sculpt

[nudie-suit]

I was raised in the kidnaping capital of the US allowed to play outside alone but thank god my moms head was on a swivel for javilina, I could have really gotten my shit-rocked by a skidish wild pig

[gonzalesfamily-blog]

Big Bend!

We spent the weekend in Big Bend and LOVED it.

Three little boys 3 and under - it was no joke trying to keep them alive on the side of the mountain but we succeeded!

A few memorable moments from the trip below:

1) We celebrated my older sisters birthday which was so fun. As kids, we always had special meals  for our birthday (although, I can't even remember what mine was) and my sisters birthday dessert was angel food cake. Despite the fact that it says on the box "do not use a bundt cake pan" that ended up being the only pan available in the little mountain side casita. My sweet brother in law did his very best to love my sister well and make the cake happen. This happened to include an overflowing cake mid bake, scrapping as much off the top as possible and having to clean the oven before our departure. BUT, he 100% succeed and watching him work so hard to love my sister well was a gift to me.

2) When we originally planned this trip, it was a trip for the Bernards and the four Gonzales' but then we found out M had to work a 24 hr shift the weekend of our trip. I did indeed have a LARGE pitty party for a week. I was so bumped he wouldn't be able to come. After he finished his 24 shift, I half jokingly said "Drive the 5 hours and come be with us!" AND HE DID. We were all so happy to have M join the party.

3) Apparently there is a wild pig in the area we were staying. This particular pig originates from South America, they are small ugly looking things, do you know the name? We didn't either. Well, we finally googled it and found that they were called Javlinas. We spent the next 24 hours cracking jokes about the Javilinas, needing to be careful, better not leave food out, etc. Except, we were  saying it with the J sound. Then Michael showed up. My sister and I mentioned our knowledge to him about the local Javilinas - to which he quickly replied with "wait, you're kidding, right?" Unfortunately, it took the "hispanic" guy showing up to inform us that it is actually pronounced with an H sound. Not a J. The more you know.

4) We hiked in Big Bend one day. Graham and Chris swam in the Rio Grand ( we all attempted to not think about how dirty that water most likely was.) The hike was so beautiful. We received many looks, considering A) it appeared that Chris had two wives (being that we hiked before M showed up) and 2) we were all also wearing a kid. *Many* comments about the children strapped on to us -- "Did the babies come with the backpacks?" You know, super funny comments like that.

5) We most likely asked Graham to not venture off too far 50 times, attempted to save Abe from walking into cacti another 50 times, and begged Gid the kid to stop eating rocks another 50 times. Over all though, the babes really held their own. We all enjoyed the promise of a G&T after getting them into bed, though. Everyone remained up right, without ingesting too many rocks or getting any injuries right up until we got back home from out trip. Abner's little forehead met the brick fireplace and he got his first set of stitches. We decided to just be thankful it didn't happen on the side of the mountain. 

6) When we got to Big Bend and were approaching the entrance desk I said to Chris "Hey, ask if they do a military discount, I have my military ID" Chris asked the park ranger and he replied by asked us "Is there someone who has an active duty military ID?" Chris replied and said "My wife does" - because lying for no reason on the spot made a whole lot of sense I guess. I handed my ID over and the guy asked if we had an active duty ID (meaning, Chris would have to have that) considering mine is a defendant ID. Chris informed him that he did not (sense you know, he isn't actually in the military) the Park Ranger then turned to me and asked if I had an active duty spouse to which I panicked and just did not reply. I simply sat there in silence and hoped Chris would figure out what to say. The park ranger asked again and Chris informed him that my husband who wasn't with us has one. We spent the rest of the day mocking Chris about the fact that I apparently have two husbands. Also, I think Chris learned a good lesson about white lies. 

7) We tried VERY hard to get a good picture of the three little boys in their "A little kindness can change everything" shirts and we also failed VERY bad. I'll post the outtakes below.

[sarabarnacle]

Bird Collecting

I've been bird watching, especially since Florida. Who can resist all the fantastic critters there? My enjoyment skyrocketed lately as I've downloaded Cornell's bird identification app, Merlin. Suddenly I can actually figure out what many of the things I'm seeing are and it is much more fun. Did I mention we are in the Pheonix area? Here is what I've seen so far: Costas hummingbird Black chinned hummingbird Verdin House finch Hooded oriole Grackle House sparrow Inca dove Eurasian collared dove White winged dove Red winged black bird Gambles Quail Mourning dove Coot Says phoebe Cactus wren Gila woodpecker Ash coated flycatcher Vermillion flycatcher Curved billed thrasher Starling Canyon towee Western Tanager Many of these birds showed up during my early morning walk today. You know I'm intrigued when I set an alarm for 5am. Besides the winged creatures, this morning I saw a very small baby javilina along with its herd. Plus I heard the strangest bullfrog sort of creatures. When I got back to the campground, the camp host had hot coffee ready. It's been a great morning!

#homeschool #roadtrip #birds #javilina

[furious-rogue-stuff]

Heat Chapter 42: Reflection

I have arisen~! Sorry ONCE AGAIN for the long lag in updates. Hopefully this chapter makes up for the delay in posting 😊

Pairing: Javier Peña x OFC | Javi x Querida

Disclaimer: Written in 2nd person narrative, you can safely assume our heroine and love/lust interest is a Latina, written by a Latina. Here's my philosophy on my writing, for further context.

Rating: Mature/Explicit 🔞

Word Count: 24,500+

Summary: All the previous reconciliations and past heartache act as a reflection in your peripheral once you and Javi gravitate back to each other, but is the love and passion between you enough to keep you both together, this time?

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of sex, including explicit depictions of oral (m+ f receiving) and unprotected sex. Mentions of diet and food habits, exercise routines, angst, past trauma, resentments, frustration and regret. Allusions to toxic behavior, negative coping mechanisms, recurring relationship tropes, women's health, fluff, hurt comfort, size kink, praise kink, dom/sub play. SoftDom!Javi, Romatic!Javi, and Bossy!OFC. In the vein of Narcos being a bilingual show, and Javier Peña being fluent, I felt it was apropos to include Spanglish and Spanish throughout.

Heat Masterlist

Previous chapter - Chapter 41: Enchantment

Chapter 42: Reflection

To say that you and Javier made up for lost time apart would be an understatement.

From the moment he'd pulled you close and claimed your mouth with his, any coyness between you both had dissolved, and all caution had been discarded for the passionate ways you each needed to revel in the other.

Javier had whisked you against him and the wall when you buried your hands in his hair and tugged him down to deepen the kiss before you trailed needy nips across his jaw and down his neck. He'd ground into you and groped up your dress to hike your leg around his hip, and before you could gather your lust-clumsy wits, he'd had you half naked in the hallway while you yanked his unbuttoned shirt off and groaned for him to touch you.

"Love you—want to make you mine," he'd whispered at your ear after you'd tugged his undershirt off over his head and he'd cupped his hand between your thighs to touch you over your soaked panties. "Promise to make you feel so good, mi amor—"

"Javi," you'd moaned as you arched against him, bare breasts pressing against his chest while he hastily tried to maneuver you both down the hall towards the bedroom whilst suckling on your pulse point and wrenching your tangled dress from around your waist to be discarded.

The garment barely finished hitting the tiled floor before you'd already unbuckled his belt and impatiently tugged his pants undone while you both multitasked kicking your shoes off and kissing wantonly as you finally made it over the threshold of the doorway. Javier had let you undress him – to get him completely nude before you'd towed him towards the bed as he peeled your panties down before you kicked them off. His voracious touch and kisses had you tingling – pulse racing with the exhilarating excitement of feeling him hunger for you as much as you're starving to be his again.

The sex had been primal and sensual. Intense yet tender. Voracious, ardent, and divine – albeit salacious. And, it'd occurred libidinously throughout the night, in between dozing off from spent exhaustion during the post-coital periods.

Every time you roused from slumber to him kissing on you, or tenderly caressing his touch between your thighs, or nuzzling your neck while he husked adoring words to you in the dark, you'd pull him close and end up making love all over again, no matter how tired and sore your muscles were, or how full and tender you felt. At one point, just before dawn, you'd even awoken to the soft quilt being tucked around you – with Javier completely underneath it.

His head had been between your thighs as he languidly licked your tender pussy, eating you out with shameless – albeit gentle vigor, and groaning with achievement as you gasped fully awake and ground against his mouth with needy enthusiasm.

One more romp later, and you were both passed out in the disheveled sheets, tangled up in each other with the quilt rumpled around you as the stormy climate persisted outside.

The rainy weather made it easy to lose track of time, and when Javi woke up at one point to peer over to the curtained windows, he couldn't gauge the hour of the day. It was dark and dreary, the room mostly in penumbra save for the gray daylight that filtered in from the billowing curtains every so often that a gust of breeze sifted through the ajar slats.

Content to cuddle back under the quilt with you, Javi shifted to blearily squint over his shoulder at the alarm clock on the nightstand closest to the bedroom's door and ended up balking at the time displayed.

Begrudgingly, but carefully maneuvering his limbs from around yours and shuffling backwards from where he'd been spooning you, Javi got out of bed and quietly went over to the pile of his clothes strewn about the entry of the bedroom. As he does so, you roll into the side of the bed he's vacated in your slumber. Making sure to remain silent while you sigh in your sleep as you cuddle the pillow his head had been resting on most of the night, he's relieved to not have woken you, and resumes grabbing for his pants before suddenly remembering he'd left his cell phone in the center console of his car.

Internally swearing to himself, Javier discards the chinos and sneaks out to make a pitstop in the bathroom across from the bedroom door in the hall, before quietly going down to the living room to find your house phone. He's in the buff, scratching at his tousled hair, cataloguing your apartment now in the morning light as he lopes over to pick up the receiver from the console table against the wall of the entry, and quickly dials Steve to let him know he definitely isn't making it to the gym.

"—Fuck, man. I just got ready and put my sneakers on to go get you," his friend grumbles around a yawn, testily adding, "You're the one who hassled me into working out—"

"First off, you're a father of two now and you're in shit shape," Javi mutters sarcastically as he paces from the living room over to the kitchen to open the fridge, unabashed as he retrieves the carton of orange juice and sets it down on the counter, enjoying the cool air from the fridge as he stands completely in the nude while he looks over at the direction of the balcony slider doors and notices the overcast sky peeking through the vertical blinds. "Second, I got ahold of you before you were inconvenienced in going out in this weather—"

"So, the date went well, then?" Steve fishes, raspy drawl goading.

"Yeah, it did," Javi answers in a hushed tone as he shuts the fridge door and opens the carton of juice before taking a long pull from it, letting out a sated exhale to then mumble, "Anyway, raincheck on the gym. I'll talk to you later—"

"Just make sure you get her approval on double date night for Valentine's, bud," is the deriding taunt his buddy zings his way before saying goodbye.

Scoffing, Javi chugs orange juice until he's had his fill, returns the carton to the fridge, and fills a glass of water up before he takes it and the phone receiver with him back to the room. He passes the guest bedroom and notices for the first time a dim flicker emanating beyond the ajar door. Peeking in, he sees it's a neatly appointed room with a daybed, and a wide dresser up against the wall. On said dresser is a little altar flanked by tall white continental candles. There's one next to a photo of your grandmother, and it makes a twinge of recall warm his heart.

Returning to your bedroom now, Javi takes the opportunity to catalogue the space before fondly gazing at your sleeping form.

You've rolled back into the opposite side of the mattress, so he sets the glass on a coaster already tucked onto the nightstand next to his watch, puts the phone by the lamp, and slides back under the covers with you.

You unfurl once he's spooned up behind you again, sleepily rolling over to cuddle against him. The soft scent of your hair, the loving way you nuzzle his neck, and the gentle sigh you let out once you've curled up against him makes it easy for Javi to relax and doze back off.

A couple of hours later, it's your turn to slowly stir, stretching out groggily before begrudgingly waking when your body aches and commands that you take care of a biological need. You sit up carefully and peer over at Javier, seeing he's passed out on his stomach on the side of the bed you typically sleep in. His bare back is smooth and expands broadly as he breathes deep, relaxed breaths that soften his purring snore. You frown when you see the scratches your nails left on his back, but upon closer inspection, you're relieved to see they weren't welts or cuts by brushing your fingertips gently over them and finding they were smooth and likely to fade over the course of the day.

Your touch stirs a soft, bassy hum out of your sleeping hunk before he buries his face deeper into the pillow.

Smiling at having not stirred him awake, you gingerly sneak out of bed and walk around to the door, tiptoeing over your combined discarded clothes, and quickly go into the bathroom, clicking the door quietly shut behind you.

Well, so much for taking it slow, you think to yourself as you sit, but can't muster the reproachful feelings the admonishment should conjure. Instead, you take your time to replay moments from last night as you delicately stand and flush to go wash your hands. As you do so, you end up staring at your kiss-bruised, glowing features in the mirror over the sink vanity and smile before forcing yourself to wash your face and brush your teeth. You eye the mark he left from grazing his teeth on your sloping muscle, and feel a tremor of delight quiver in your sore nether regions.

The entire time you're in the bathroom, you relive the amazing feelings Javier had stirred up in you, and can't deny how effervescent and gleeful recalling everything makes you feel now, even with your wits regained.

From the moment he'd pulled you close and kissed you, any tentativeness between you both had dissolved, and all caution had been discarded for the passionate ways you each needed to bask in carnal adoration once again.

Unlike the last time you'd both gotten tempestuously ensnared and ended up rapaciously in his bed, you don't feel any trepidation or exasperation with yourself. If anything, you're trying to remind yourself why you'd been so keen on taking things slow. And when you remember how you'd told him how much you missed and loved him last night? The feeling that warms you when your mind's eye recalls the expression on Javier's face – how bright his dark eyes got, and how his features softened – it makes you yearn all over again.

You want to cherish what you have, and not overanalyze it or default to compartmentalizing it for fear of repeating mistakes or succumbing to resurging heartache.

When you sneak back into the room, you find Javier has rolled onto his back in his sleep.

He has a hand shoved behind a pillow, one leg flung over the quilt, and his other hand flopped over the bunched-up blanket at his belly. The breeze ruffles through the curtains and fills the room up with cool air while providing the cover for you to quickly pick up all the clothes strewn on the floor and place them aside on the cushioned wicker chair in the corner of your bedroom before you tiptoe soundlessly to the side of the bed next to the windows and stealthily slip back under the covers with him.

Sidling up carefully next to his sleeping form, you gaze down at him lovingly while he snores lightly, cheeks covered with stubble and hair a tousled mess of dark chocolate curls. His chest rises and falls with his gentle breathing, and his expression is the most relaxed you've ever seen him. Admiringly, you let your gaze wander the expanse of tan bare skin and toned muscles on his torso, committing every beauty mark, dark vello and chiseled contour to memory.

You notice the time on the clock when you glance up from his taut abdomen and frown, wondering if you're being too indulgent by keeping him all to yourself, when he stretches out and exhales. His hand shifts from his stomach up so he can drape his forearm across his eyes with a rumbled grunt before kicking the rest of the quilt off of him.

Cheekily biting your lip at getting a gander at his completely nude form in the dim mid-morning light, you decide to see how much teasing you can do before he's stirred awake.

First, you ever-so-lightly caress your fingertips along the inside of his thigh. Aside from the tendons flexing at the contact, he doesn't wake, so, you skim your touch over his hip and down his happy trail before fanning your fingers out to delicately brush his resting manhood. Javier hums in his sleep, but doesn't rouse, so you next lean over and kiss a beauty mark that's on the side of his ribcage before grazing a soft path with your lips up to his pectoral. The hand behind the pillow shifts out to dangle his arm over the edge of the bed while he yawns and arches his spine.

It's when he drags his forearm up to flop above his head that his eyes flutter open before he stiffens at the sensation of ticklish pleasure that makes him squirm, just as he wakes up and sees you're tracing the tip of your tongue along his nipple.

"Hmph, cristo amado, what'd I do to get such a naughty wake-up call?" he chortles gruffly – voice thick from disuse, before yawning noisily and smiling at you snickering girlishly at him.

"You lying here like a Playgirl centerfold, that's what," you tease before lounging sidelong against him so you can affectionately comb your fingers through his wild, wavy curls after he snakes his arm under you and tugs you to cuddle close. "Took advantage and leered at you, hermoso."

Javier grins dreamily before turning to nudge his cheek against yours, humming for you to kiss him. You do so, chastely, then huff an endearing sound before letting him deepen the kiss with the greedy sweep of his tongue into your mouth, and in an instant, he's rolling to flatten you into the disheveled bed while he tries to maneuver back under the blanket in order to be pressed skin-to-skin with you.

"Hngth, Javi," you mumble in between kisses, which makes him regain his wits and prop himself up on his hands to give you his complete attention. "As much as I love lazing in bed all day, I don't want to keep you from any plans you might've had already—"

Scoffing agreeably, he maneuvers to lounge sidelong next to you, as he drawls, "I woke up this morning and got a raincheck, so no worries, querida." You look surprised, so he snorts and nods over to the nightstand as he remarks, "I brought the phone in after calling Steve. Left my cellphone in the car."

You notice that indeed the wireless phone is set next to the lamp, and smile when you see he brought you a glass of water too. Craning your neck out to look over his shoulder allows Javier to notice the nippy scrapes he left near the base of your neck.

He reaches up to caress his touch conciliatorily and grunts reproachfully at himself before muttering, "Got carried away last night."

"Mmm, it's ok," you sigh as you notice the faint pinkish hickey you left on that delectable spot just under his jaw and pet your fingertips gently over it. "We both tend to do that. You should see your back," you chime and smile when he sits up further on the bed and angles his back towards the mirror over your dresser so he can peek over his shoulder and see for himself.

"Shit, I don't even feel 'em," he chuckles, appraising the hickey with a tilt of his head before snorting – as if almost pleased – before flopping back down to lounge next to you.

"Good. I never mean to use you as a scratching post, I swear," you goofily mumble, and smirk when he gives you a scruffy, moustache-heavy kiss into the valley of your breasts, making you crack up with laughter. At your raspy timbre, he shifts sidelong onto his hip in order to retrieve the glass of water and hand it to you. You sit up to recline your back into the headboard before guzzling the water down. "Mmm, thanks," you sigh once you've quenched your thirst and handed the empty glass for him to set it back onto the coaster for you.

"So? What about you?" he asks once he's flopped onto his side and rested his cheek in his hand to ogle you ruggedly. "Am I keeping you from anything?"

You gather your wild hair and comb it to one side over your shoulder as you smile and chime, "Nope. Because of the rainstorms, Anita and I are skipping our Saturday routine this weekend. I'm all yours today, galán," is your silky purr as you playfully wink at him.

Pleased, Javi pulls you by your waist down into the pillows and grunts before crooning smugly, "Perfect. I wasn't gonna let you out of this bed for a few more hours anyway."

He's true to his word.

After fooling around for a while, in which Javi sweetly kissed down your body and promised to be gentle – using only his tongue caressing over your clit to make you orgasm, you then domineeringly got him on his back so you could go down on him with gusto before you both ended up tuckered out against each other in a languid tangle of limbs.

"I could get used to staying in bed like this," Javier murmurs puckishly before turning his head to plant a kiss to your cheek.

"I'm sure," you chuckle as you roll to sit up on your elbow and affectionately smile down at him while you caress your hand along his chest. You relish how his eyes flutter closed and he hums at your touch skimming from his chest up to his cheek before you fan your fingers to comb through the hair at the side of his head, zeroing in on that spot behind his ear that turns him into putty.

"Hmm, that feels nice," he purrs in a sigh and relaxes.

Lovingly, you lean down and kiss the beauty marks dusting his corded neck before settling your lips to suckle lightly over his pulse point. Javi tips his head back and groans in approval before gasping when you suddenly nip the spot.

"Alright, we both smell sinful," you chirp mischievously before sitting up and impishly tickling down his toned sides, as you goofily singsong, "A bañarnos, mi cariñito."

Squirming under your attempt to tickle him, Javi quickly cuffs your wrists in his big hands and playfully wrestles you onto him before rolling to pin you onto the bed, grinning as you squeal and giggle effervescently while trying to fend him off sassily.

"I like how we smell, atrevida," he grouses as he relentlessly suckles kisses into your neck and shoulder while you cackle and snake your arms free to loop around his neck.

"That's because you're a filthy beyako!" you guffaw while he roughhouses to try and pin you down again, but you manage to cling to him instead and nuzzle his neck with a silly sound.

He laughs and lays on his side, giving up as you bossily clamber onto his lap and pin his arms down above his head in victory. "I give up!" Javi exclaims in a ridiculous grouchy voice, and you smile triumphantly before leaning down and showering his grinning features with doting kisses. "But seriously. I don't have stuff to change into, so I'll have to go down to my car and grab my gym bag—"

"Oooh, you'll have to do the walk of shame in your rumpled clothes," you snicker and bounce your brows derisively at him.

Chuckling, Javi sits up and kisses you on the lips before patting your thigh for you to climb off his lap so he can bound off the bed and grab for his clothes tossed on the wicker chair. Once he's finished buttoning his shirt, he comes over and pecks you on the lips before you tell him to grab your keys on the way out.

By the time Javi comes back through the front door with his gym bag, you're already in the kitchen setting out the ingredients for breakfast. His stare doesn't make it to the counter to see the carton of eggs you've already emptied by cracking what was left of the dozen into a mixing bowl, not when you're wearing his cotton undershirt and nothing else.

"Jesus Christ, are you trying to drive me crazy?" Javi growls as he drops the duffle by the bar top kitchen counter and comes up behind you to crowd you against him.

You giggle effervescently as you try to fend off his gropy touch and raunchy kisses. "Quit it!" is your silly huff as you turn in his arms and nudge him back a few paces whilst exclaiming, "I was going to draw a bath first, but then I figured you'd be hungry, so I grabbed the closest thing and put it on."

He groans and tows you closer with his hands cupping your hips. "I'm fucking starving, but now I just want to do filthy things to you all over again," he grumbles in a low octave as he nuzzles your mussed hair at your temple.

"Babe, I'm sore," you whine begrudgingly, tone clearly communicating how badly you wish you weren't. Javi leans back to give you a sincere frown, brows already knitting together in upset, so you mollify, "No me mires así, mi amor. A nice hot shower will loosen things up—"

"Hmph," Javi grunts and sweetly holds you to him before pressing a kiss to your forehead, purring, "Mi tiernita."

You melt in his arms and just relish how serene you feel, being with him like this.

It's easy to end up abandoning the kitchen to instead indulge in a nice, hot shower together. Especially when Javi rubs your back while you lean into him.

He enjoys being in the roomy shower stall with you, and is more than happy to let you scrub him down with your fragrant soap and shampoo his hair with an irreverent giggle. But seeing the way you stare up at him under dewy lashes, features warm and wet as you smile at him after affectionately sweeping his drenched hair back from his forehead, has him lovestruck. Like he's found the center of the universe, and it's in your adoring face.

Needless to say, all he wants to do is dote on you, so after you both exit the shower, Javier declares that he wants you to relax for the rest of the day, so he has you sit in the wicker chair while he strips the bed of the filthy linens before dressing it with fresh sheets and a lightweight ivory coverlet. While he does so, you both banter about the things you can do – other than each other – while cooped up in your apartment during the stormy weekend.

"—I have some movies from Blockbuster we can watch," you're telling him now as you finish towel drying your hair while he empties out his gym bag and sorts out the dirty from the clean clothes, setting the latter aside onto your dresser.

"That works," he muses coolly as he tugs his underwear on before removing the towel from his waist, grabbing a pair of gray drawstring sweatpants and yanking them on.

"Oh, hand me the phone?" you chime after he's pulled a plain white t-shirt on and has tossed his now empty duffle aside.

Javi sits on the bed after he's handed you the wireless receiver and admires how cozy you look in your terrycloth robe with your damp hair swept over a shoulder. So much so, that he doesn't have a chance to ask who you're calling before you've quickly dialed the number and greeted congenially, "Hola, Zory," and go on to have a quick catchup with your friend before asking her for a hookup on a foursome reservation at the nicest restaurant you can think of in El Condado. "—Oh, yeah, I know I'll owe you big," you're chortling now as you crinkle your eyes cutely at Javi when you answer your friend with, "Ah-hah, te presento mi jevo pronto, ok?"

Javi mouths, 'Jevo?' and arches his brow when you squint mischievously at him before standing and going to your closet to find a comfortable housedress to put on.

"—Thanks, girl! Hang out soon," you tell Zoraida before finishing the call and emerging from the closet with a beachy-patterned yellow dress.

"Well?" Javi presses debonairly as he reclines against the headboard and watches you shed your robe to shimmy into the billowy dress. "What's a jevo?"

Giving him a Cheshire cat grin, you coquettishly hang up your robe on the closet door hook while you drawl, "Oh, around these parts? That's slang for boyfriend," then innocently saunter out of your room with the house phone in hand.

You hear the mattress protest with how quickly Javier jumps up to rush after you, and are giggling while you try to make it to the kitchen before he can sweep you up and take you back to bed.

He most definitely wants to indulge in driving you wild after that, but compromises with himself and instead bosses you out of the kitchen so he can cook instead. You set the phone back into its base, then park at a barstool and watch him from the other side of the counter while he unpackages the bacon and starts placing them on the hot skillet he's let heat up.

Amusedly, you pick up the copy of El Nuevo Día you'd left on the corner of the counter and hold it up for him to see as you lilt, "Look, the difference a couple of weeks makes."

Leaning over to see the group photo taken in the banquet hall, Javi smirks and starts prepping the coffee kettle. With an irreverent hum, he quips, "Yep, if that me only knew how hard you'd slap him—"

"You're never going to let me live that down, huh," you sarcastically complain, lopsided smile brazen when he shrugs aloofly and places the cafetera on the stove burner. "C'mon, what do I have to do to completely make up for that?" is your whimsical query.

Javier's brain has to stop him from blurting, 'Marry me.'

Shaking his head clear, he keeps whisking the eggs while the scoop of butter he slicked into the pan sizzles up. Once he's poured the eggs into it, he counters glibly over his shoulder, "Put on that sexy nighty later?"

You rest your elbows on the counter and cup your face when he looks over at you with those damnable brown puppy eyes. So, you exhale a flirtatious breath before humming, "Done deal, chulito."

He's more than pleased when you slink off of the barstool to round the counter and tow him away from the stove so you can get on your tippy toes and press a passionate kiss to his full, smiling lips.

Cheekily, he pinches your waist before herding you out towards the fridge so he can reclaim his place at the stove. "Do me a favor, and pull out the orange juice for me?" he drawls in that raspy timbre that makes excitement flutter warmly in your belly.

Snickering imperiously, you do as you're asked, but when you pull out the carton, your brows furrow curiously at how light the contents seem. When you uncap it and go to retrieve a glass for him, Javier surprises you by pilfering the carton from you and pressing it to his lips, chugging the juice down in several long gulps.

Scoffing at his audacity, you swat his bicep after he lets out a gloating sigh and hands you the empty carton, charging wryly, "You hog! What a glutton—"

"I'll buy more when we go food shopping," he tuts unabashedly as he lets the cooked bacon settle onto the paper towel-lined plate before shutting the burner off and moving the egg pan aside.

You use the diversion to maneuver him to tend to the kettle while you make short work of pulling two coffee mugs from the cupboard as you mutter sassily, "You're lucky you're sexy. That's all I'm gonna say!"

Once the food is ready, you both curl up on the couch together and have breakfast for lunch. And after you're both full, you lounge length-wise on the comfortable cushions and watch one of the movies you rented. Truthfully, though, you end up canoodling more than actually paying attention to the plot.

When the credits roll, you eject the VHS and replace it into the case before handing Javier the remote while you take the dishes to the sink. He puts it on a random channel before getting up to herd you away from the sink so he can clean up. Not to be thwarted, you scamper down the hall to your bedroom and return lugging your hamper now filled with his gym bag clothes and your laundry. He's just finished setting the last pan aside to dry when he hears you fiddling with the washing machine dials in the laundry room behind the kitchen.

"You are incorrigible!" he acerbically grumbles when he comes into the tidy laundry room before he swings you up into his arms bridal style and marches back to the sofa.

"Babe, it's just laundry," you simper while he carries you. "C'mon, you need me to wash your stinky clothes—"

You end up squeaking comically when he tosses you down onto the comfortable couch before he drops onto the cushions and crawls over you. "I need you to be a good girl and relax like I told you to," is his husk as he presses his broad frame in around you before nudging your cheek with his in a show of bossy dominance.

It's ridiculous how much that turns you on and makes you pliant underneath him.

The rest of the time you're both cuddled on the couch, you're nothing but affectionate, albeit obediently coquettish with him. You can't remember the last time you've relaxed like this, being idle couch potatoes without a care in the world.

You're nestled between the sofa cushions and Javi while you watch the sitcom reruns, content and tickled by his current line of questioning.

"—What's this show even about?"

"Oh, it's not really about anything. Just funny anecdotal hijinks each of the four friends get into."

"So, it's about nothing in particular?"

"Yeah. They're all neurotic people who get caught up in silly scenarios, usually by their own rude ignorance, sense of self-importance, or some ironic karmic result. The guy with the crazy hair is the weird neighbor who's always doing some grifty thing that never pans out for him—"

"People watch this?"

"It's the biggest comedy of the last couple of years, evidently."

Javier shakes his head at that and keeps combing his deft fingers through your hair while he stares at the screen. "Cable is overrated," is his laconic mutter, to which you snicker and squeeze your arms around him amusedly.

"I have two other movies we can pick from instead," you suggest, but are too cozy snuggled against him and the back cushions to want to move.

He puts up with sitcom reruns until evening, where he finally lets you wear him down; laundry gets done, and you whip up a healthy dinner of chicken florentine with spaghetti squash that has him astounded by how tasty it is. You both eat at your glass table with the vertical blinds open so you can both watch the mellow rain drizzle down while the breeze gets the foliage of the trees and tropical plants swaying whilst you talk about your upcoming plans for the work week.

After dinner dishes are left to soak in the sink, you both curl back up on the couch to watch the beastly thriller in the dark. Javier's arm is around your shoulders while you snuggle into his side, resting your head against his. You both occasionally jolt against each other whenever a jump scare occurs, but most of the time, Javier is peeking down his nose at you to see you're stoically watching the movie. He tries to gauge whether you're really into the preposterous plot, and keeps his jeers quiet – until the credits roll and you sit up to give him your best poker face.

You know he's been bursting at the seams, so you shake your head as you go eject the movie from the VCR and place it into its case.

As expected, he heckles derisively about how bad it was the entire time you're flouncing around the apartment to get ready for bed.

"—I can't believe you rented that!"

"What?! It looked scary! I didn't know it was going to be so goofy—"

"Jack Nicholson as a wolfman didn't sound goofy to you—?!"

"Oh my god, I didn't know it was going to be so silly, chavón—"

"I had to do everything not to laugh during that ridiculous fight scene—"

"Ay, ok, Mr. Movie Critic! Just quit hassling me and come to bed."

Shaking your head at hearing him scoff sarcastically while you change into the sultry nighty Javier loves, you suppress a smirk when he comes in and pauses to stare at your form. You're sauntering to the side of the bed you favor before pulling the covers back while he chuckles to himself as he sheds his shirt and sweatpants after turning out the light in the hall. He struts in the buff over to where you've just climbed under the blanket, and impishly maneuvers you to slide farther across the width of the mattress onto the opposite side of the bed, nearest the windows, before getting under the covers and turning off the bedside lamp.

You snicker, "Tan controlador."

He loops his arm around your waist and tows you to be snug against him, husking in a canela-rough purr, "Go to sleep, provocadora."

After not getting much sleep the night before, it's easy for the two of you to stretch out and doze off together, especially when the sound of the rain and the chill of the breeze lulls you both into peaceful slumber.

You end up dreaming of being in the mountains, driving down the precarious, winding road that overlooks the lush valley below and the promontories in the distance. The sky is sparkling blue and twinkling across the windshield of the Cadillac you're driving. You're alone in the car as you drive down and pull off to park at a roadside overlook. Instead of the tropical din of animals, the air is filled with a distant melody you're trying to place, when you sense someone approach where you're looking out at the view.

Just as you turn, Javier looks over at you and smiles. The melody starts to get clearer as he pulls you into his arms, and you're finally able to make out the words to the song.

¡Que viva el amor y duren los encantos! Que el mundo se entere que nos amamos tanto El amor es perfecto cuando se ama Amor transparente más claro que el agua

The song's chorus keeps echoing in the air around you while Javi holds you close, and just as you rest your cheek against his chest and look back out at the picturesque valley scenery beyond, you wake up to the blaring of your alarm clock.

Javier groans and blindly rolls over to try and shut it off, but he's not used to the clock's switches, so he fumbles and swears under his breath as he tries to focus his bleary, squinting eyes to find the off button.

Reaching over him, you easily deactivate the alarm and slink against his back to flop into the mattress and roll over with a grumbled, "Sorry. Forgot it was preset for my Sunday morning jog."

"Jeez," he gravels out as he turns onto his back and scrubs at his eyes. "Who're you trying to get in such sexy shape for anyway?" is his snarky grouse as he sits up on his elbow and peers goofily over at you, cocking a brow at you when you scoff and roll over to sneer at him.

"Mira quien habla," you lob around a yawn before sitting up to glare sassily at him when he rolls his eyes and shifts up to recline his back against the headboard. Leering at his broad chest and his defined abdomen as you drape the blanket up to your collarbone, you sulk, "You've clearly been working out for a while long before you got down here—"

He blows a raspberry at that as he scratches his messy hair. "Yeah, well, it wasn't to impress anyone else, unlike you—" he pauses when you hit him across the chest with your pillow.

"Since when have I done anything to impress anyone else?" you challenge as you bop him on the head with the pillow now, smirking when he wrestles it away and shoves it to be pinned between his back and the headboard.

"Baby, give me a fuckin' break. You had men wanting to fall to their knees and worship your hot ass before. And now? They're probably willing to sell their souls to get a chance at touching you," is Javi's gruff compliment, all while his features take on a chiseled, intense etch to them when you look at him dubiously. He can't help a hint of insecure jealousy bleed into his muttered tone as he points out, "You never worked out before—"

With a huffy exhale, you snipe, "That's because my life didn't fall apart in a day and I didn't subsequently spend months being a depressed shiftless layabout who overindulged in all the decadent Caribbean food my heart could ever desire – all the other times we broke up." At his expression dropping into a frown, you dial back your angsty energy and coolly add, "And you remember how big the embassy was. My workout was hoofing it up and down that building all the time. I did a lot more walking back in Colombia, and in general, got plenty of cardio," you bounce your brows suggestively at him, earning a snicker and silly smirk from him at the obvious compliment. "So, around Christmas, when I couldn't get into my favorite jeans? I decided to diet and be more active. It also helped that all my girlfriends down here are nutrition-savvy, workout fiends, so I had the motivation to stick to it. Now it's part of my routine, and I enjoy it well enough," is your elaboration before you shrug your bare shoulders.

Javier seems to absorb your explanation and feel at ease, which encourages you to stick to the half-truths and continue omitting your health-related motives for being more fit.

Deciding to deflect the attention back to him, you hum an easygoing sound and playfully nudge his shoulder, squeezing his deltoid appealingly as you drawl, "Well? Don't hold out on me now. You were a damned sexy stud before, but clearly you wanted to sculpt your bod up for someone—"

He huffily slaps his hands down over his blanket-covered thighs and grouses, "Not true. When I'd first gotten back home, I went out to help my dad mend a fuckin' fence, and within no time – from just lifting the posts and digging the holes, I was so damned winded – sweating my ass off, and dizzy from the labor, that I knew it was because I was in shit shape," he pauses when he looks over and catches your worried pout, so he confesses, "When I chased Jurado, I could barely keep up. My lungs ached and my knees wobbled. I didn't catch my breath for over an hour…"

You tuck your legs under you and lean close to him. "And you feel better now?" you ask, eyes scanning his features for any sign of doubt.

"Much better, yeah. I can run a mile without getting winded. That's probably more from quitting smoking than anything, but helping around the ranch, getting hassled by my buddy to hit the gym with him – it all helped get me into shape. It also helped me redirect the pent-up energy, and kept me from going fucking crazy there," he explains, and when you relax, he snakes his arm around your waist and tugs you close. Giving you a roguish look, he gravels lowly, "You're the only one I want checking out my 'damned sexy sculpted' body anyway, chingona. I'll keep fit just for you, so don't bother being tan celosa—"

You brazenly swat his shoulder, sitting up to bossily start crawling over him to the side of the bed he's occupying while you imperiously jibe, "Oh god, forget I even said anything, jodón! Serves me right—"

Thwarting you, Javier effortlessly hauls you back and over his lap to sit facing the dresser, where you can see your reflection in the mirror. It should be embarrassing how quickly your nipples stud underneath the silky nighty at the sight of him watching you over your shoulder as he fondles his hands down your hourglass shape to squeeze your hips in a show of dominance before he kicks the coverlet away from his legs and grinds his ramrod erection against you.

"What were you gonna say, bravita?" he gruffly husks against the back of your ear as he settles you to straddle just right, causing you to gasp and clutch at his thighs.

You bite your lip and rub against him, wearing nothing under the nighty and already wet with desire as you get off on the salaciousness reflected in the mirror. "S-Serves me right for being sincere w-with a raunchy fresco," you stammer breathily as Javi paws his hands under the silky fabric to line you up with the thick spear of his cock just as he thrusts home into your molten cunt now.

The way heat rushes up your body and radiates at your cheeks as you end up watching Javi fuck you makes you dizzy and needy, shameless even. You bend forward to manage the momentum to rock back against his pounding thrusts, whimpering when Javi growls, "Never get enough. You love just driving me crazy, don't you."

"Ahh!" is your silky cry as you buck back onto him and arch your back when he sets a quick, rough pace after he catches you smirking titillatingly in the mirror. His hands bunch your nighty up to the center of your back so he can stare at your ass while his cock disappears into your silken cunt. It has him ravenous, seeing how you're loving the way he's dominating you – by how eager your mewls are when he kneads the globe of your ass before teasingly brushing the pad of his thumb in slow circles over your tight ring of muscle.

You keen airily when his talented digit presses into the puckering hole, teasing it while he guides your undulating hips to keep riding his cock. When he finally eases his thumb in, you whine a needy sound as your cunt contracts excitedly. He rewards you with a pleased groan before snapping his hips up to fuck deep into the angle that steals your breath away and has you grasping at your own thighs to not bowl forward into the bed.

"Take those gorgeous tits out. Wanna watch you touch them while I fill you up," he orders in a raspy purr before loosening his grip on the back of your nighty so he can drag his palm down your back before spanking your ass.

You clench around his cock and his thumb as you whimper a thrilling sound. A deviant thrill flares in his gut at your reaction, and he's rapacious from the high of dominating you like this. Dark eyes intense and pleased as he watches your hands clumsily yank the nighty down your arms to expose your breasts before you cup each in your hands and start rubbing them tantalizingly while continuing to mindlessly ride him.

The weather outside is blustery, whipping rain and wind that has your curtains billowing gustily while you and Javi are completely swept up in the lascivious round of coupling, filling the room with the torrid squelching and skin-to-skin sounds of your rapturous lovemaking. Your heated skin feels the cool kiss of the breeze, but you're uncaring as you grope your breasts and ride his cock fervently while he fucks up in synchronized rhythm into your clenching pussy, hands greedy as they fondle, squeeze and clutch at your nubile form.

"Oh, Javi! F-Feels so good," you hiccup in a watery voice, getting quickly edged into a tizzy that has an orgasm prickling pleasure to radiate from the seat of your core into your throbbing clit. You pinch your nipples and sigh, "Javi—"

"Mmm, fuck. That's it, preciosa. So c-close," he groans as his thrusts become slamming pounds that steal your breath and have you dripping arousal while your pussy flutters around his pulsing shaft. "Such a good girl. Just take it, take it all—"

His breath catches in his chest when his heavy-lidded gaze looks up from where he's receded his thumb from your ass, to the mirror just as you sob a reedy cry of pleasure and climax on a whine of his name before arching forward and gripping the bed as you gush your orgasm. The sensation of your sheath strangling around him while your slick soaks his crotch has Javier biting down on a swear, clutching both hands on your waist, and barreling with burning need into you just as pleasure snaps loose and has his balls pulling up and tight against him from his searing climax.

You're turned into melted sinew after such an exhilaratingly, fierce sexcapade. So much so, that you realize after you come down from the post-bliss that Javier has you reclined back against him. His chest is so warm against your back while your overheated skin cools and your muscles throb in post-coital repose. He's breathing raggedly against the side of your head as he nuzzles you with primal affection and caresses your supple curves lovingly while his cock is still in the warm haven of your still-fluttering cunt.

There are no flirty, spent words between you whilst you both languidly cuddle and kiss, mirror's reflection forgotten to instead gaze dreamily at each other from under lust-heavy gazes. Your gravitation makes it easy to intrinsically speak with just a soft look or gentle glance, so while the rain picks up outside and fills the apartment with the languid atmospheric acoustics of a stormy morning, you both eventually saunter out of bed and into the bathroom together.

It isn't until the pleasant domesticity after your shared hot shower post-coital that Javi breaks the tranquility.

Handing you a towel before quickly grabbing his own to dry off, he smirks over at you and drawls, "You got your Sunday workout after all."

You pause in mid-dry on the fluffy rug in front of the shower stall while he impishly grins from where he's stood busily wrapping the towel around his waist.

It's too perfect. You can't even muster the haughty umbrage.

Tiptoeing over where he's standing on the opposite fluffy rug in front of the soaking tub, you stare up at him through the fringe of your dark lashes as you kiss his chest.

"It sure beat jogging, or doing a hot yoga session," you sultrily chirp, smirking as you turn to go brush your teeth.

Intrigued, he sweeps his hand to brush his wet hair back from his forehead. "Hot yoga?"

As you both go through the morning routine, you tell Javier about all the different workouts you do, and detail the difference between yoga and hot yoga. Of course, while you describe the kind of workout you get doing the latter, he fixates on picturing you stretched out in nimble poses while sweating it up in a heated studio, wearing a flimsy aerobics outfit that clings to your body. Especially when you mention that one of the poses is called 'downward dog.'

You catch the way his eyes darken in the mirror with lust at picturing you in the pose, so you turn from pulling on your buttery-soft Journey tour shirt and snicker at him before moving from the dresser to where he's still stood in the towel by the bed, where you'd set down the laundry basket.

"You behave while I make breakfast, and I might show you how limber I am now by getting into some of those yoga poses later," you sultrily proposition as you impishly snatch the towel from his waist and spank his bare butt before sauntering away to the bathroom to hang it up on the rack. You hear Javi make a gruff sound of enticement as he sorts through the clean laundry for something to wear. As you retrieve a scrunchie from a cubby on your vanity counter in order to quickly pull your hair up in a high ponytail, you tell him over your shoulder, "Since we went through the eggs and bacon yesterday, I'll make some avena and a fruit salad to hold us over until after food shopping—"

"Hmph. No offense, cariño, but I'm starving and in need of something meaty after how ragged you've run me already," Javi drawls as he comes in and leans against the bathroom's doorway.

Turning to scowl sarcastically at him, you end up giving him a flirty once over, thanks to him wearing only a pair of jeans he'd snagged from the pile you'd washed last night and had set aside. With his clothes from Friday night and the ones in the gym bag, a lot of his laundry required ironing, or were in the load you'd tossed in the dryer earlier, so besides a few undershirts, a pair of white socks and skivvies, he didn't have any clean shirts to wear.

Smirking at him, you lope by him and crook your finger for him to follow you as you remark, "Well, since we woke up early, we can get breakfast at the panadería before we go food shopping," then impishly smile as you open a dresser drawer to retrieve something before tossing it over to him, chiming, "And since it's just a dreary, rainy Sunday, it'll be ok for you to wear this."

Javi easily catches his gray college shirt.

It's soft, scented with the gentle hint of fabric softener from the other shirts it was folded under, and smelling of you.

"You know, when I went through the box of stuff, and didn't find this in there, I wondered," he murmurs as he glances over at you before pulling the shirt on. Once he's tugged it down over his torso, he fusses with his hair to keep from fidgeting from the admittance.

"Wondered?" you ask and try not to outwardly fawn over how good the shirt looks on him, as it accentuates his broad shoulders, defined pecs, and muscular arms.

You're internally drooling on wanting to kiss his biceps when he elaborates, "I wondered if you kept it, in order to send a message. Sort of like a hint that you still wanted to work things out."

Blinking, you self-consciously scoff, "No, actually, I'd been so mad while I was packing your things, I forgot I had the shirt tucked away in my nightgown drawer." At the comical way Javier's shoulders droop and his mustachioed lip curls in a frown, you rush over to hug him around his waist and effervescently assure, "But yes! I think I subconsciously wanted to keep it as a way to lure you back to me, because when I found it afterward, I didn't want to part with it. Call me sentimental, I guess."

Javi snorts, deadpanning, "Yeah, right. Nice try with the save."

You laugh and pinch his waist before standing on your tippy toes to kiss his haughtily pursed lips until he surrenders and smiles.

Once you're both dressed in t-shirts, jeans, and sneakers – ready for a rainy morning of running errands, you take Javier's car to the panadería, and run in together huddled under your coral-colored collapsible umbrella from where he parked, into the bustling business to get in the queue to order your meals at the counter. His stomach growls at the delicious aromas filling the space while most opt to eat-in to avoid the deluge, and he's marveling at the portion sizes of the sandwiches most are indulging in at the cafeteria-style tables.

"Don't worry. I'll order for you," is your confident lilt as you gesture to a little table by the front window of the bakery, handing him the now compact umbrella while you suggest, "Oh, can you go grab that corner for us?"

Intrigued, Javi nods and affectionately caresses his hand along the small of your back as he walks over and weaves through the tables to get to the tucked away 2-seater. He idly looks around the space, staring at the Valentine's Day decorations festooned behind the counter and the dangling hearts hanging from the ceiling. The bombardment of cherubic cupids plastered along the walls in between the store signs has him making a mental note to look for a florist, hoping he can find one for the romantic holiday.

After a few minutes, you arrive at the table with two to-go coffee cups, and smile when Javi chivalrously gets up to pull back your seat for you.

"So? What'd you order?" he asks and pesteringly slides the cup from your grasp so he can box your hand in between both of his, squeezing and massaging it as you snicker at him.

"You'll see!" is all you offer, smiling and patting your free hand reassuringly over his left one.

Humming, he checks his watch before glancing out at the stormy street beyond the glass window.

"It feels so much later than it is. I don't think the sun has come out this whole weekend," he marvels, letting your hand slip free from between both of his so you can peel the flaps back on each cup before sliding one to him.

"Yeah, and it's gonna be like that into most of this week, too," you muse before taking a sip of your coffee.

He grunts, holding his cup between his palms as he looks back at you. The hesitance that had been keeping you pensive and reluctant before is gone, and he senses you're not rueful anymore about pursuing things again, so he wonders if he should suggest wanting to meet your father. You had said he knew about your relationship, and that things between you were much better, but he wasn't sure if that would have your guard snap back up.

Just as he was getting the courage to ask, the lady behind the serving counter shouts out a number, and you turn to gesture that you're on your way to grab it. "Be right back," you snicker to him before rushing up and weaving your way to the counter.

Javi takes the chance alone to argue with himself as he drinks his coffee. We both agreed to take it slow, so maybe bringing up meeting her father right now would come off as a big step?

Ruminating a bit more about it, Javier is distracted in his thoughts when you make it back to the table with a cafeteria tray housing two sandwiches and large cups of freshly-prepared tropical fruit juice. But the moment you place it down and merrily sit across from him with a grin, his eyes go wide at the sandwich you've just slid towards him.

"Holy hell, what is this?!" he exclaims as he gapes at the massive sandwich while you innocently pull yours over and cutely rub your hands together.

"That, is a tripleta," you chime as you dutifully point at each layer housed within the fresh-baked pan criollo and list, "Grilled steak, lechón – aka roasted pork, and sliced deli ham, topped with onions, fries, fresh lettuce and tomato, ketchup, mayonnaise, mustard, and slices of cheese," you pause when he just gawks at the thing, so you hand him a napkin and innocently chirp, "Buen provecho, querido."

To say Javier has never had a more formidable sandwich in his life, would be an understatement. He figured it served him right for telling you he was starving and needing something substantial to satisfy his appetite. And by the way you're impishly eating your much smaller sandwich criollo de desayuno? It was obvious you were thinking the same thing.

Needless to say, he is stuffed to the gills and more than content to push the shopping cart along while you both are grocery shopping a short time later.

"—Christ, I don't think I'll need to eat for the next two days," he's quipping laconically now while you peruse the produce section. You giggle and look over at him when he leans his forearms on the cart's handle and mutters, "I gotta tell Steve. He'd love that sandwich. Although Connie would probably fret over the calorie overload—"

You laugh out, shaking your head in amusement as you bag some veggies before placing them in the cart. "It is a culinary staple here," is your chuckled musing as you tow the front of the cart for him to resume walking along to the fruit section. "The four of us will need to go food-hopping around the island sometime."

That makes him feel pride expand warmly in his chest. "We should. I wanna try that mofongo you've raved about—"

"Mmm, damn. I haven't had it in a while, too," you sigh as you pout at him when he scoffs. "What? My diet cut out starches and carbohydrates, so no plantains—"

"I would go crazy if I had to keep track of that stuff. I just eat whatever. Figure jogging and lifting weights makes up for it," he mutters as he peers at the label on one of the local fruits.

You roll your eyes, and grumble, "It's so easy for guys to stay in shape," and stop yourself from rambling, 'never having to deal with hormonal fluctuations,' because it cuts too close to the real reason you had to pursue a more fit lifestyle. So, you instead gripe, "You get to eat a tripleta and not have to worry about gaining any weight!"

Pushing the cart along to keep up with your meandering perusing, Javi checks out your ass when you bend to tighten one of your shoelaces. "Oh, I'll pay for that in heartburn later, most likely, but will work it off on my run tomorrow," is his affable retort, smiling when you stand and catch his leer, so you bossily tug the front of the cart along.

"Well, it's not like you have a tripleta every day, so you can indulge," you concede, before adding thoughtfully, "And food-hopping along kioskos is mostly about grazing rather than sitting and having a full-fledged meal, so it's definitely not a gluttony fest. Not to mention most of it will be fresh, using locally-sourced ingredients."

"Anything would be better than all the fast-food spots Steve's dragged me to since I got down here," is his droll drawl, giving you a lopsided smirk when you turn from bagging a bunch of bananas to hum for him to elaborate. "He's adamant that McDonald's tastes better down here, and loves all the local franchises. I definitely have to keep hitting the gym if I keep going to lunch with him," he rumbles and goofily pats his stomach.

"Hah, well Puerto Rican cuisine ain't slimming either, stud," you deride as you move on to the next stall to pick out some tangerines. "Luckily, though, I can indulge more now that I fit these jeans again, so taking you to have a mofongo relleno de camarones is definitely in the cards," is your musing, emphasizing your point by patting your tush and winking at him.

Chuckling, Javi teases, "As long as you're dessert? Sure."

You scoff girlishly and flick your ponytail over your shoulder as you scathe, "Quit being naughty in the fruit aisle, perv," while the smile in your eyes gives your enticement away before your plush lips pull into that enchanting smirk he loves so much.

"You know I can't help it, bravita," he tuts, and before he's thought it through, he blurts, "Loving you forever is only going to make it happen more."

As soon as he registers what he's said, he pauses in stride, thinking it much too glib, and expecting you to bristle. Instead, you turn and feign aloofness before sighing matter-of-factly, "You're lucky I love you enough to not mind that one bit."

He stares as you resume picking through fruit options, as if you haven't just reached into his chest and strummed his heartstrings – reverberating a sense of perfect harmony to fill him up.

Completely smitten, Javi gazes at you like you've unlocked something precious from within you and handed it to him for safe keeping. It makes a vast feeling of divine devotion settle in for good behind his ribcage, and he ends up becoming distracted with a sudden daydream of you looking up at him through your lashes from behind a sheer veil, when you turn and smile before clicking your tongue and tossing something at him.

Javi snaps out of his thoughts just in time to catch what you'd tossed as you singsong, "Thinking about the last time you had one of those?"

He snorts as he caresses the luscious peach in his hand before cocking a smug brow at you. "No, but I am now, you little tease," is his husk as he maneuvers the cart to box you in next to the fruit stall so he can swoop in next to you and pin you against him in order to pepper merciless kisses along your neck and jaw.

The peel of laughter you let out has a few heads turning to catch you two canoodling next to the plums, peaches and grapes, so you end up hissing goofily at him to stop when you catch some of the amused looks.

By the time you get to your door with the bags of groceries a while later, you and Javi are mirthfully ribbing each other about anything and everything while you breeze into your apartment and carry everything to the kitchen counter to work together in storing everything in its rightful place.

"—You're going to catch a cold, Javier!"

"I've run while it's raining plenty of times, gatita. It actually feels good—"

"But it's winter and flu season here, so you should just run on a treadmill at the gym instead—"

"Are you going to skip your jogs?"

"Yes! I'll meet Zoraida at one of her aerobics classes instead—"

"Mmm, you gotta model the outfits you wear to those classes for me so I can see if they're overly sexy and not appropriate for you to leave the house in—"

"Hah! What, crees que siendo mi jevo gives you the right to veto my workout outfits now?"

"At the very least, I should have an idea how hot you look when you're working up a sweat during those classes—"

Scoffing haughtily as you amble away to the answering machine after Javier cockily tries to tow you against him and the kitchen counter, you sardonically counter, "Come to one of the classes with me, and I'll let you pick what I wear."

"Even if I can't do much more than whatever is on a Richard Simmons tape?" is his sarcastic remark, smirking when you laugh out at the mental image he's conjured.

Snickering as you press the play button on the machine, you shake your head derisively while you sit on the sofa to shuck your sneakers off. Letting out a sultry sigh, you lilt, "Please tell me you have a pair of super risqué workout shorts like Richard Simmons'—"

The answering machine finishes reciting its automated message before playing the first voicemail.

"Hey, nena. You're all set for the restaurant reservation! You definitely owe me, and I'll take payment in you dishing about your jevo in full detail – you can't spare a single thing! Anyway, enjoy, and call me later!"

Javier sits next to you and stretches out his arm along the back of the couch while the next message gets cued up. Glancing confidently at you when you rest your head on his shoulder, Javi charms, "Shit, that's gonna be a lot of torrid history you'll be giving her—"

"She mostly will want to know how good you fuck, and make me tell her the best sex you've ever given me," you charge blithely, grinning when he balks at you. Shrugging, you inflect chipperly, "I'll have a lot of tantalizing options to choose from—"

"Hola, tesoro. Wanted to see if you were still open to spending time together next Sunday. Let me know. Cuídate."

Javier feels you tense as your father's message plays, and frowns when you sit up and contemplate it before you sigh. You rub your fingers along your forehead, trying to quell the wave of emotion that's threatening to spring up in you. "Ugh, I almost forgot about it…"

Reaching his hand to your shoulder, Javi gives it a fortifying squeeze. "About?"

Pinching the bridge of your nose to stifle the ache behind your eyes, you sniffle before leaning back into the couch and keeping your gaze averted.

"…My mother's anniversary. Sunday is her birthday…the accident happened two days after her birthday…"

Sadness settles into his chest like a stone, and he feels you start to recede into yourself, so he wraps his arm around you and cups his other hand at your cheek, tilting your face up so he can press a kiss to your forehead.

Your eyes flutter and you lean into him with a relieved exhale, so Javi holds you to him while you curl up and explain what your father had been referring to.

Every other time the anniversary had come around, Javier had been away – on a stakeout or on assignment in Medellín, so you'd never mentioned it. He feels guilty knowing you didn't want to ever burden him, so he murmurs into your ear, "I'm sorry, Celina. I should've been there—"

You shake your head and caress your cheek against his. "No. I never said anything because I just…I usually just block it out. So I never really did anything to acknowledge it…" you sigh, before curling into him more. "…In any case, we'll probably just spend the day together, so there's no point in canceling. It would only hurt his feelings," you finish telling him, head resting on his shoulder before you turn your face into his neck and seek the comfort of his warm skin and scent.

He rubs your back, humming in agreement. "I'm here if you need me, mi amor," he tells you softly against the top of your hairline before nuzzling a kiss there.

You loop your arms around him and squeeze him tight, murmuring a hushed, "Thanks."

The rest of the rainy afternoon is spent on your sofa, curled up together in idle chatter. He was able to get you out of the melancholic rut by asking you about your friends, specifically wondering out loud how famous Zoraida was to get you reservations at the fanciest restaurant in the metropolitan area on such short notice.

"—Oh, I should've looked at the magazine rack at the checkout to see if she was on any of them this week," you're remarking as you snap your fingers and press your lips together admonishingly while he snorts and props himself up on his elbow so he can look down at you. "Anyway, she's a former Miss Puerto Rico, and she placed in the top five of Miss Universe a few years in a row," is your explanation, smiling when his brows arch up in surprise. Petting his curling whisps of hair at his temple, you lift your head from the armrest to slink up more comfortably against him as you add, "She's a marketing maven, too. Brand ambassador for the tourism board, and she's featured on all the big ad campaigns all over the island – from cosmetics to general lifestyle stuff. She's always going on the late-night variety shows, and does a weekly feature on the top morning radio show."

"Well, shit. And you've known each other since you were kids?" he asks as he idly traces his thumb along the curve of your hip.

"Basically, yeah. We went to the same school – all of us did, during middle school years, and we've stayed in touch. I've always been close to Zory, since she lived in the same neighborhood too. We used to sneak out to parties together," you tell him and meekly smile as memories to that fact cross your mind. "We were all a little clique, though. Everyone called us 'Las Adas' but with an A instead of 'hadas' with an H because all of our names end in 'A'—"

"A regular Charlie's Angels, eh?" he can't help razz, smirking when you scrunch your nose cutely at him.

"Charlie's Angels were three girls, not four, you dork," is your snappy comeback, smiling when he rolls his eyes and wrinkles the top of his lip up in a silly sneer.

While you two continue to banter back and forth, a mystery faction associated with the drug distribution channels throughout the Caribbean is caught unawares by an unknown rival. The ensuing bloody takedown spans several drug dens and points where product was being moved, leading to a riotous chaos across several public housing territories across the island, including the one Lopez and Duffy had surveillance on.

The agents were forced to try and cut off escape of the hooded sicarios, but were no match for the high-powered weapons they used to spray bullet fire across a precarious radius, putting civilians and officers alike in danger.

When it was all said and done, the two agents were rocked, standing in the center of a bloodbath with no idea what the fuck happened. Police – state, municipal, and district patrol were milling around, quibbling over jurisdiction, cordoning off the scenes, and waving the forensic sciences unit in to sort through the massacred bodies.

Javier's cell phone rings on the console, where he'd left it after returning from the errands, next to where you have yours charging. Having just gotten comfortable on the sofa to start watching a movie, you end up pressing pause on the VCR remote while he rushes up from his seat next to you to quickly answer, "Peña."

You'd been hoping it was Steve, or maybe his father, just calling to check in on him on an early Sunday night, but then you watch his back go rigid and his shoulders stiffen.

"…I'll be right there," he forges out tersely, ending the call and swearing under his breath before turning to look at you with a guarded scowl. "I gotta go," he exhales gruffly as he pockets his cell phone and grabs his keys, then his wallet to do the same while rushing to get his sneakers back on. Sitting on the couch, he fumbles with tying his shoes once he's yanked them on, so you put your hand on his thigh and tow him back from the brooding mire his mind had already begun to go into. Huffing as he scrubs his hand over his stubble-covered cheek, he looks at you worriedly and mumbles, "I'm sorry, querida."

With serene grace, you take his hand and squeeze it reassuringly before resting your forehead to his. In a firm timbre, you insist, "Don't worry about it. Just make sure you do not get pulled under or ground down by everything, because you're not alone and you have plenty of capable people here to share the burden. And if you start slipping into old patterns, I'm going to kick your ass, ok?"

Exhaling a chortled sound and biting his bottom lip to stifle a grin, he nods and cups the back of your neck in order to tow you into a toe-curling, yearning kiss.

Once he's got his things, you loop your arms around his shoulders and melt at how intensely he hugs you.

"I'll call you," he promises as he nuzzles the hinge of your jaw.

"I know," you murmur before you lean back and caress his cheek lovingly. "Oh, and since you don't have one, take the umbrella," is your bossy order as you dip over to grab it from where you left it to dry on the counter, handing it to him while he scoffs and shakes his head derisively. "Nope, you're the boss, and you can't be wading around, getting soggy in the rain!"

"Alright, mandona," he relents and pecks you on the lips before opening the door, stalling in stepping out to the outer hall to linger close and tell you in a low register, "I love you."

Feeling your heart soar, you steal one last kiss from his full lips before susurrating, "I love you too."

You want to tell him so much more, like 'I'm going to miss you. Please be careful. I don't want to lose you,' but internally bristle at how needy and clingy that would be, so instead you wave at him once he's walked off and looked back to smile at you before turning the corner to head to the elevator.

As soon as you've locked up, you abort watching the movie by turning the VCR and TV off, deciding to instead draw a hot bubble bath and have a long soak to soothe your very sore and tender muscles after the weekend of marathon lovemaking.

While you're melting into the tranquil water and lounging back in the tub, Javier is arriving at the scene thirty minutes later. The deluge had inundated a lot of the sparse greenery that skirted the large lot now acting as the makeshift gathering zone in front of the sprawling public housing complex that was currently being spot-lit so crime scene techs could work trying to reconstruct the scene.

Having had the presence of mind to gear up in your garage before driving over, Javier was able to exit his car already wearing a black tactical vest with the letters 'DEA' printed in bold white font on the back, and his agent shield was clipped at his hip on his belt. In hindsight, the bright-colored umbrella made him stick out like a jackass, or so he imagined thanks to the stray glances he caught coming his way as he maneuvered around the cordoned off entry to the caserío.

"Boss!" he heard before he saw Segarra bound over, wearing a black baseball cap to cover his head from the rain that was pelting down.

Acknowledging the man with a curt nod, Javier follows him as they walk towards the courtyard that is a bullet-casing-riddled scene. "What're we looking at?"

"It was a coordinated hit. Five other caseríos were targeted, but this is the one we had under surveillance. So far, it looks like a rival gang, but we're not sure who," the man grouses in a low tone as he leads Javier through the outskirts of the courtyard to a more gruesome scene within one of the ground-level housing units. Javi seamlessly shuts the umbrella, collapsing it down to be compact enough for him to shove it into the back of his jean pocket while Segarra continues to detail, "Looks like they took out the spotters, then came in through the back, and exited through the front of the complex. The odd thing is, it doesn't look like anything was taken—"

"No shit, Sherlock!"

Javier looks over into the interior of an apartment with a busted down door to see the head of the ATF operation on the island, Agent Tom Vernon, saunter over the bullet-riddled body of a would-be dealer before approaching them.

"Tom," Javier greets and shakes the man's hand before reticently gesturing with a nod of his head to the plethora of bullet casings scattered across every visible surface on the ground. "I take it this might be from that shipment you told us about?"

"Looks like it, Jav. This is pretty sophisticated fire power for a bunch of tecatos," the tall, old-fashion swagger-filled man drawls before signaling down the dimly lit hall towards a back-facing unit. "And, the formation they used to get in, clip everyone, and head back out? Not the usual spray and dash fest I'm used to seeing at these scenes. Well, except for outside. Although, I got a feeling that was more to send a message to the civilians residing through the complex. Especially after your guys gave chase."

The man sweeps back his rain-damp hair as he waves Javier through to the next apartment that seems to be the epicenter of the hit. It's there that he finds Lopez and Duffy assessing the scene.

"—Pretty curious to kill all these fellas and not take any of the cash or drugs," Agent Vernon deadpans while he saunters about, being mindful of the pools of blood and viscera. "My guys said it was the same at the other sites, so quite a puzzle," is his musing observation as he lopes back out the way he came, right past Javier's ASAC.

Glaring at Segarra when he notices the man has remained in the threshold of the door and is visibly blanching at the gory scene, Javier clears his throat to get his attention before ordering, "Get the commanding officer for the local precinct in here."

Nodding vigorously, Segarra hustles out the way they came to do the errand.

Once Javier's made his way to the back of the kitchen area where the crime scene tech was currently snapping photos of the victim slumped against the far wall, he flags Lopez and Duffy to huddle up with him.

"What the fuck happened? None of this was caught on surveillance chatter?!" he grounds out.

"Not a goddamn thing, Jav," Duffy grunts, clearly frustrated as he keeps looking over at the scene in the back hall leading to the bedroom. "One minute they were shooting the shit about the fucking baseball tournament, and the next it's bedlam—"

"None of this makes sense. This is a tactical hit. But then they didn't take anything. Even if they had, none of the rival gangs are crazy enough to pull something like this. Most are just trying to carve out dealing points and kick tribute up to the capos that run their turf, but this is like…" Lopez pauses in his vehement reasoning when he looks over at the deceased victim left slumped in the kitchen.

Looking over and back at the agent, Javier reads his gaze, and asks, "Your informant?"

Nodding, the man wrings his hand down his face in exasperation. "I barely recognized her…"

Javi exchanges a look with Duffy before nodding in the direction of the front door as he orders, "Go home. We'll let the locals in. Be ready to regroup in the morning."

As Javier follows them out and meets up with the commanding officer on the scene, you're listening to the late evening news detail the massacres across caseríos while you're finishing your weekly ironing. You glance up at the TV when they mention how authorities suspect a rival gang clearing out competition across several known drug points throughout the metropolitan area, and just as the reporter in the rain parka details the statements from eyewitnesses, you think you spot a coral-colored umbrella in the background of the scene, from behind the cavalcade of milling personnel and forensic sciences resources.

Before you could confirm whether it was Javi, the news segment veered away to a statement from the governor's office. Pensive, you toil on the rest of the chores for a while longer before calling it a night and heading into your bedroom to change into a warm nightgown. You've just slipped under the coverlet and begun getting cozy in bed when your cell phone starts ringing where you placed it to charge next to you on the nightstand.

You pick it up and answer, "Hello?"

"Hey. Sorry to call so late," Javi's velvety baritone instantly calms you to lean back on the propped pillows, with a smile.

"Ah, I was still up. You home?" is your retort as you multitask checking on the alarm clock being set for the morning.

"Yeah. Just got out of the shower. Anyway, I won't keep you—"

"So, that means you're not wearing anything?" you sweetly query, grinning when you hear him scoff amusedly.

"Just my birthday suit, guapita," he chuckles, and you can hear him flop onto his bed, and the sound of his shifting over the covers to get comfortable. He lets out a cleansing exhale before he mutters, "Wish you were here."

"You act like we don't have a big date night coming soon," you simper humorously, snickering when he grumbles contrarily in a huffy breath 'You know what I mean,' so you remark good-naturedly, "I think I saw you on the news tonight."

"…Oh?" he tentatively murmurs, as if concerned.

Humming, you quip, "Well, I'm pretty sure I saw my umbrella way in the background, anyway."

Javier lets out a relieved huff before drawling, "I got so many funny looks. Definitely need to get an umbrella that's not neon orange. I'll return it tomorrow—"

"Oh, I have another one stored in my car, so you can keep it, chulito," is your easygoing assurance, but by the way he grunts wryly, you know he can hear the cheeky smile in your tone.

"Hmph, well in any case, I'll have it when I go pick you up for the dinner date," is his debonair croon.

"Don't forget to give Steve the restaurant details," you instruct merrily before yawning.

"I won't. Now go to sleep," he purrs ruggedly before husking, "I love you."

"Love you too, hermoso. Take care," you murmur affectionately.

"You too. Goodnight, querida."

As you turn out the light and curl up to sleep hugging the pillow Javier slept on, he's lying flat on his bed and staring up at the ceiling, watching the fan's blades languidly spin.

He'd gotten to his house, gone in through the laundry room door after parking his car into the marquesina, and had stripped the tac-vest to be tossed down on top of the dryer before peeling the rest of his damp clothes off to be tossed unceremoniously into the washer. Even with your ridiculously cheerful-colored umbrella, the unrelenting downpour and blustery wind had been ruthless. It had seeped through it all, and as soon as he shucked it all off, he took a long hot shower and ruminated about everything, trying to decompress from the sordid scene.

No matter how much experience he had, walking through the aftermath of a massacre always hit like a sledgehammer. It would stay with him, and make it hard for his mind to not fixate on solutions to a problem that was beyond his means to solve. Still, he would run elements of the investigation in his head over and over, trying to find the pieces that eluded him from formulating an effective plan of action. To seeing the bigger picture of those involved in order to find a weakness to exploit.

This wasn't like Escobar. Hell, even with Cali, they'd known all the players. Here, there were levels to this – a circuitous, series of insulated networks. There wasn't a neat flowchart they could tack up as a suspect board.

With his thoughts whirring around with the information he knew so far from the investigation, sleep is elusive, and it takes hours for Javier to finally succumb to a fitful slumber. It's aided more so by his mind flashing back to the walls caked in blood, and the sporadic flash of crime scene photos being taken of the slumped, crumpled bodies strewn across the low-income housing complex.

Meanwhile, an interested party is watching the repeated news coverage from their office in a fortressed villa off on the eastern coast of the island.

Annoyed, José Figueroa Agosto, known to most as Junior Capsula, was already reaching for his burner phone when the door to his office was opened.

"What's up, Junior!" the man greeted jovially, as if he wasn't waltzing into the private office of one of the most wanted men in Puerto Rico.

"Puñeta, you gotta knock and at least pretend you respect me, cabrón," Junior huffs and glares at his friend and silent partner before swiveling back to stare at the TV. "I think you overdid it."

Blowing as raspberry, the man slanted his shoulders as he leaned into the wall by the opulent desk. "I think it went smoothly. Plus, it should keep everyone spinning while we make the move," is the musing retort.

Swiveling back to eye him sharply, Junior, who was becoming known as the Pablo Escobar of the Caribbean, glared at the cool, easygoing smirk his socio gives him. "We've been doing just fine the way things were. This is a risk that better pay off—"

"Trust me. I have even more riding on this, so give me credit," is the aloof drawl, and when Junior doesn't seem amused, he gives him a one-shouldered shrug. "Can't make an omelet without breaking some eggs, Junior."

Snorting, the head of the drug trafficking organization that controlled 90% of cocaine in Puerto Rico, Junior leaned back in his chair and shook his head while his buddy fixed himself his go-to drink from the inset bar adjacent to the entertainment center.

When the man brings him the tequila on the rocks he poured for him, hands it to Junior, and then clinks his own glass with his, he cheers along with him before relenting affably, "Ah pues bien, Señor Gatsby."

Snickering mildly at the heckled nickname Junior loved to needle him with, thanks to his drink of choice – among other things, he crisply sneers after turning to drop into the sofa in front of the TV before muttering, "Change the channel to something worth fucking while."

If Javier knew how circuitous the investigation was going to become thanks to Junior's silent partner, he likely wouldn't have managed any sleep at all.

Suddenly awaking just before dawn from a surreal dream in which he was looking for you in the dim-lit hall of the caserío while chasing the echo of your voice, it takes him a few moments to realize what jolted him to bolt up in bed was a roar of thunder reverberating the cement walls of his room. He looks around the penumbra of his bedroom and realizes the downpour of last night had transitioned to a full-blown thunderstorm. The curtains over his windows quiver with the pressure of the wind outside pressing against the air in the house. Exhaling harshly, he shuts his eyes to get his bearings.

Once his pulse returns to normal, he flings himself backwards into the bed and wrings his hands over his tired features. Fuck, can't ever just shake it off. You gotta tune it out and shut it away. Can't have it weighing you down and distracting you. Not anymore.

When he's unable to get back to sleep, he hauls himself out of bed and gets into his sweats, only to end up frowning at the continued booms of thunder rumbling out in the not-so-far distance.

So, he decides to work out in his living room. Without weights, he's relegated to doing sit-ups for several sets before transitioning to push-ups. With the excess energy expended and his mind a bit clearer, Javier gets going on preparing for a long day.

You're doing the same, albeit without the sense of looming trepidation that Javi has. No, you had a wonderful night's sleep, and even procrastinated in getting out of bed, having decided to skip your morning run until the storm system finally moved out. You took the time to enjoy making yourself a fruit bowl for breakfast, and even took the opportunity to put together a decent lunch. Once it was packed in your tote, you rushed to finish getting ready before grabbing your things and hustling out the door.

By the time you're in morning traffic, Javier's on his second cup of coffee, having showered and gotten in his dark blue suit. He was distractedly looking at his reflection mirroring back at him from the glass of the slider door next to his empty dining room space, already pondering about his team's possible courses of action, when Kike pulls up to the front of the house and beeps the horn.

The day is a blur for both of you. So much so, you don't even get to talk at all.

You spend the bulk of it dealing with a contentious series of calls between Human Resources and the Department of Labor, who had received challenges to your termination of resources the week prior, so you ended up having to provide tons of documentation to justify the matter. By the time it was settled enough to not monopolize anymore of your day, you had actual work to catch up on, so you didn't leave the office until very late.

Javier was still in the conference room with Duffy and Lopez as the agents sorted through the literal post-mortem of the events the night before, trying to sift through the evidence and surveillance footage to find a clue of some kind that would implicate someone.

"—Ok, then we need to reconsider things. Every site was under a different capo's jurisdiction, but none of them have a turf war going on, so could it be internal?" Javier asks as he scrubs his palm idly across his jaw while reclined in the uncomfortable chair that faces the makeshift evidence board rigged up with all the maps, surveillance targets, and known cartel org chart.

"At this rate, anything is fuckin' possible," Duffy grumbles as he glares at some of the logs before pointing at one from earlier in the day and rhetorically muttering, "Maybe these assholes didn't pay their dues?"

Lopez was reticent, sitting adjacent from the board, with his chin resting over his propped hands. Segarra, who hadn't stopped checking his watch periodically ever thirty minutes, was waiting for permission to fuck off, and the more Javier sat there, he was inclined to fuck off himself. But then something Tom Vernon said the night before came back to him now.

"…They didn't take anything, because they already have a steady flow of cash and drugs moving in. So, they took out the points. That means there's some other influx of product that's going to supplement the business lost. All that stuff was for local sales, right?" Javier directs the question to the two agents, who exchange a look.

"Yeah. Everything was already broken out for the dealers. That's why there was so much cash on hand," Duffy replies, arms crossing as he deliberates what that means.

"We have to trace back where the distribution is coming from. We've been trying to track it leaving the island. Finding where it's coming in from might help us break down who has the most invested in taking out the points selling locally," Javi strategizes, and that seems to finally pull Lopez out of his funk. "Nic, can you put feelers out?"

"Already got a few in mind," Lopez murmurs, nodding in acknowledgment to the board as he remarks, "Some of those fuckers are bound to be chatty the next few days."

With a consensus being reached, Javier calls it a night, to the relief of his ASAC. The man wished him a good night while he headed out to the corridor, making it a point to wait until the department was empty to then grab his things and feign like he'd been the last man out.

He was tempted to tell the guy to quit being a fucking brown-noser, but was frankly short of patience as it was, so he just walked out of the building to meet his ride home.

Kike had coordinated with Javi to be driven home by Steve's guy, Wilmer Otero, since he'd be taking an advanced weapons training course that evening to get certified. With the umbrella in hand, Javi hustles through the inclement rain up to the door.

"Good evening, Agent Peña!" the officer dressed in plain clothes greeted affably once he got in. He was just as friendly as Kike, but was more fluent in English. Steve loved the guy and couldn't have vouched enough for him, so Javier was at ease with him once he'd settled into the passenger's seat.

"Thanks for the ride, Wilmer. Hopefully I'm not keeping you from anything," is his cool remark while the car cruises out of the Federal campus en route for his neighborhood.

"Nah, my girlfriend goes to night school, so I'd be home bored anyway, sir," Wilmer chuckles, before amiably commenting, "That's an eye-catching umbrella!"

Snorting, Javi shakes his head sardonically as he places the neon orange item between his press shoes. "It's on loan from my girlfriend."

"Ah, yeah that makes more sense," Wilmer snickers as he navigates through the light traffic. "Su jeva tiene estilo."

Humming in agreement with his comment, 'Your girl has style,' Javi takes pride in saying, "That, she does."

The thought of you smiling at him last night floats up to his mind's eye, and lingers to trigger replaying all the moments you'd both shared. By the time he gets home, he takes the chance that you might still be up to call your cell phone, but the line rings without answer, so he hangs up and strips out of his work clothes to shower, mind already getting preoccupied with his plans for the following day.

You'd been so exhausted from all the hecticness in the office that you'd dropped all your belongings on the console by the door and gone right to bed, then ended up sleeping through your alarm and having to do a mad-dash to get ready for work in the morning. It wasn't until you'd made it up to your office that you checked your phone and noticed the missed call. Unfortunately, you had a meeting first thing, so you added calling Javier back to your itinerary, mentally penciling it in for some time after lunch.

Arriving back to your department an hour later, you don't expect for the team's admin to merrily greet you before you've even finished passing through the entry.

"—Someone has a secret admirer!" Olga simpers conspiratorially when you lope over to her desk. "A special delivery just got dropped off for you. I left it in your office."

Intrigued and a bit bemused, you head to your office and enter to find a lavish bouquet of beautiful tropical flowers of all kinds housed within a lovely crystal vase sat on your desk. The arrangement of orchids, hibiscus, plumeria, amaryllis and damask rose flowers are a vibrant cluster of fragrant, enchantingly beautiful hues that were framed by dreamy sprays of freesia. It was the grandest flower bouquet you'd ever received, and you were dazzled by the flashy romantic gesture.

Javier is in his office looking over some files on previous drug busts when his cell phone rings.

"Peña."

"Hey! Sorry I missed your call last night. Yesterday had me running on fumes," your voice has a smile instantly tugging at his full lips as he sits back in his chair. Just as he's about to tell you not to worry about it, you follow up with a low, sultrily murmured, "Thanks for the lovely surprise, by the way. I can't believe you took the time to get something so lavish delivered to my office. You didn't have to go through the trouble, chulito."

Confused, Javi sits up in his cushy desk chair as he clears his throat and rumbles, "Oh?"

"It's beautiful. Definitely the most fantastic flower bouquet I've ever gotten! It's going to be interesting getting it down to my car to take it home, though—" you're remarking in a melodious timbre, all the while Javier is trying to figure out if it's possible that the flower shop screwed up? But then he remembers he'd never given them a direction for your office.

No, he'd called the shop Wilmer recommended to him and had left his information to pick up the bouquet he intended to give you tonight before taking you out to the double date.

So, reluctantly, Javi cuts in and tentatively tells you, "Querida, I'm sorry, but I didn't set up for anything to be delivered to your office."

Your brow furrows with confusion before you look back from where you'd been idly wandering around your office to stare at the arrangement. "…You didn't?" is your dubious query as you go over to the flowers and begin looking for a missed gift card or note.

"No. I mean, after the last time I'd left flowers on your desk, I figured it'd be bad to do a repeat of that, especially here," he remarks honestly, and you hum, thinking to yourself that you had been surprised he would be so flashy, all things considered. His guttural huff now has you frowning. You're about to tell him to never mind as you continue to peek through the stems for a misplaced card, but then he laconically grumbles, "Shit, don't tell me you got some other guy trying to make you his Valentine."

You scoff, shaking your head amusedly as you slap your hand down on your side in surrender when you don't find a note in the bouquet. "Alright, then it definitely must be some mistake. Maybe the delivery person brought it to the wrong office," is your dismissive sigh, and at his dry grunt, you snicker, "I promise, you're the only guy I want as my Valentine, stud. No one else. Just want you today and every other day, infinitum, you hear me?"

Smirking, Javi can't help goadingly drawl, "I don't know. I guess you'll just have to prove it to me, later tonight."

The smoky hum you give him is musing, before you silkily purr, "Too bad I can't head to your office right now and show you just how much I mean it, guapito. But don't worry, I'll prove it to you by riding you like the sexy stud you are. Then, you can make me yours while I say your name all night long. Sound good, mi cariñito?"

Javi feels hot under the collar with how turned on your saucy suggestion gets him, and it takes all his willpower not to fixate on how want is pulsing down into his loins. He scrubs his hand over his moustache before dragging it down his chin with a grunt. "Yeah, that sounds really good," he husks, biting his bottom lip at your alluring, pleased hum. "I'll come to the door to pick you up tonight," he tells you in a smooth baritone before letting it get a gravel pitch as he adds, "Although, with how naughty you're being, I might just end up taking you to bed so I can give you a real Valentine treat."

You feel your pussy throb at his words, and can't muster anything more than a girlish scoff as you retort, "You're not getting out of a double date with Connie and Steve that easily, chavón."

"Wouldn't dream of it." His raspy chuckle filters in your ear and sends a delighted shiver up your spine. "Alright. See you tonight, mi amor."

After exchanging goodbyes with him, you end up taking a moment to collect your thoughts from the pining whimsy he flung you into. If Javi didn't get this bouquet, then who did?

You go back out to Olga's desk. "Hey, when the delivery person dropped the flowers off, did they include a note or a little card?" you ask, hoping it'd just slipped her mind.

"Uh, no," she replies, and before you can ask the obvious question, she assures, "They're definitely for you, though. The delivery was addressed to you, but there was no information on the sender listed. That's why I said you must have a secret admirer."

Perplexed, you find yourself nodding in acknowledgement before ponderingly wandering back to your office. Maybe they're a gift from Dad? As soon as you think it, you immediately disregard the possibility. He would never send anything here. And he would've sent a card along. You stare at the flowers, wracking your brain with just who would gift you something so lux.

The curious mystery percolates the rest of the work day while you go to meetings and during lunch, as you nibble on a protein bar at your desk and multitask checking emails while glancing at the flowers every once in a while. The mystery bothers you so that at the end of the day, you go to the Telecommunications department to even ask Ellis.

When you bring him into your office to see the bouquet, he whistles and looks completely stumped. "Yeah, not me, kid. This is WAY too fancy for my blood. And way more money than I'd ever spend on you—"

"Oh, gee, thanks," you snipe irreverently and shove his shoulder platonically. "Well Javier said they're not from him, and I can't think of anyone else who'd go through the trouble, especially to have them delivered here, with all the security—"

"Hmm, what if it was someone inside the building?" Ellis poses, crossing his arms as he leans forward to sniff the bouquet as he posits, "Sure, most know the gossip about you and Jav from back at the embassy, but no one is sure if you're both still an item here. Maybe someone's trying to be a prospective suitor? And the bouquet is their first move at stating their intentions to court you?"

"Oh my god, what is this, some romance novel mystery? They didn't leave a note! And what – they expect me to go around the building asking who sent me the flowers?" is your harangue, hands on your hips as you tap your foot. "Plus, this is a really expensive arrangement—"

"Shit. What if it's Bozzi?" Ellis suggests, giving you a tense grimace when you look at him like he's nuts. "Hey, that dude has a thing for you. I know you never think so, but you gotta trust my powers of perception about this kind of thing—"

"Well, you didn't perceive that Javier was into me, so I'd say your powers aren't always accurate," you counter glibly, snickering when he pouts and rolls his eyes. "Ok, it's a moot point anyway. I was just curious," is your aside as you walk over to pick up the vase from your desk.

When you don't put it over by your sideboard and instead turn towards your office door, Ellis rushes to grab the heavy arrangement from you as he asks, "Wait, what're you gonna do with it?"

"Since it's not a gift from Javier, then it's not something I need to keep in my space. I'll just put it out in the waiting area—"

"I mean, if you're not gonna keep it and take it home, it'd be a shame to let it go to waste," Ellis offers in a suggestive singsong, eyes rounding when you give him an inquisitive look.

Understanding his unspoken meaning, you chuckle and pat him on the shoulder. "Yes, you can have it. Just do not tell Anita they're a regift!"

"Got it! Thanks, girlie," he beams before chortling, "This'll save me the cash and hassle of having to rush to a flower shop later—"

"You're such a cheapskate!" you heckle while he smugly marches away with his prize. "At least tell me you're taking her out to dinner tonight!"

"I am! Now you quit worrying and enjoy your own night with loverboy."

You're still snickering to yourself at Ellis' antics as you arrive at your apartment a short while later, but by the time you get inside, you are on a mission to shower and get dolled up for the special occasion. So, you put your purse on the counter so you can quickly move your wallet and phone from it once you've grabbed your clutch from the closet. But before you sprint off, you look at the answering machine on the console table by the front door, and notice there's a new message recorded.

Worried it might be Javi canceling, you rush over to press the 'Play' button, already chewing on the inside of your cheek anxiously. But once the machine recites its automated message of when the voicemail was received, all you hear is ambient static, as if the caller is deliberating what to say, before the line clicks. Perplexed, you rewind the tape to have it replay when the caller's message was received.

'—Received at 5:45pm—'

The voicemail of static plays once again, and you strain to hear anything on the caller's line that could clue you into whether it's some kind of telemarketer, or perhaps a dropped long-distance caller? You can't pick up anything, though, so you dismiss it, not recalling the previous dead air, voiceless message left on the machine a couple of weeks prior. Instead, you're already stripping out of your work blouse as you turn from the console and resume your sprint to your bathroom to get in the shower first thing.

As you do so, Javier is giving Steve directions to the restaurant over the phone while he comes out of the flower shop with his order and hustles over to his car in the drizzling rain. "—Yeah, I'm going to my place to shower and get ready now, so I'll see you two there."

Once he's secured the flowers in the front seat, he drives home, eager to get ready and rush over to see you. After he showers, shaves, and finishes getting dressed in a nice crisp dress shirt, the dark sports coat you love, and a pair of black trouser pants, he takes the time to brush his hair before grabbing an overnight bag and quickly packing clothes, along with his travel toiletries. He'd arranged to drive himself for the next couple of days, so he planned to spend the night at your place after dinner, and go to work straight from there in the morning.

He's buzzing with anticipation as he drives to your condo through the light drizzling rain, intent to make it a memorable, romantic night for you. Once he's pulled up to your street, he easily cruises down to turn into your gated driveway and punches in the security code to gain access to the carport. The giddy excitement bubbles in his gut as he parks, gets the roses, and heads up to your apartment's floor, so much so that he has to shake out his right hand of the fidgety energy that has his fingers twitching at his side while he rides up in the elevator. By the time he gets to your door, he can't help feel like he's a jittery teen, going on his first date – smitten and over the moon with the potential of having someone feel as infatuated for him as he does right now for you.

With his patented three swift knocks on your door, Javi internally admonishes himself. Quit thinkin' ahead on shit and just focus on enjoying the night—

The door opens to reveal you in the low-lit glow of the nearest lamp sat on the console out of sight, but really, Javi's eyes aren't on anything else but you as you beamingly smile at him.

"Happy Valentine's Day," you chime delightedly and give him a spritely once over – admiring how handsome he looks in the smoky-gray sports coat, and loving that he's in his favorite black boots – before complimenting, "Mi Valentín tan guapo."

Javi's utterly enamored by the vision of sultry-yet-timeless beauty you are in the elegantly bejeweled pink tourmaline dress you'd worn on your first date when he'd returned to Bogotá, a pair of peep-toed nude patent leather heels, hair styled in a chic up-do with several flirty wisps framing your face in undulating waves, and your sunburst-styled earrings that twinkle at him as you lean close to kiss him hello on his soft lips.

Your perfume has his blood zinging through him, and it takes all his willpower to not just sweep you up and ravish you like he's aching to. Instead, he brushes his nose against yours with a hum before pulling back to caress your cheek, murmuring, "You look stunning, Celina," smiling when you affectionately nuzzle his palm and scoff breathily at his praise. It's then he remembers the flowers he's holding, so he presents them to you as he husks, "These are for you, querida. I know they're probably not as impressive compared to whatever you got at your office—"

Taking the bouquet of enchanting red roses and pink lilies that has the stems bound together by a white satin ribbon, you hug them close and breathe in their lovely scent before sighing contently and assuring avidly, "Javier, these are beautiful." Girlishly kissing him adoringly before dotingly murmuring against his lips, "Thank you," you then hurry to fetch a vase as you exclaim, "Let me get them in water before we go!"

He's besotted by your happiness as you lovingly fill a clear glass vase in the kitchen sink before unwrapping the ribbon and placing the gorgeous flowers in it.

You place the vase prominently on the bar top counter before quickly retrieving your clutch purse and keys to join him at the door.

"Ok, ready to go?" you're asking melodiously as you do a quick check in your purse to make sure you have everything, and end up smiling when he pulls you close after you close the door, making you melt by kissing the spot just under your jaw before you can key the lock shut.

He easily takes the keys from your hand, locks the deadbolt, and then slips them into his pocket before he seamlessly herds you close so he can loop his arm around your waist and escort you down to the car.

"More than ready, corazón," is his musing croon.

All you can do to not let your lust turn you into a tingling and shivering mess as your excitement simmers in you while you let him lead the way, is to affectionately tell him the itinerary for the night, and soon you're both exiting the car and huddling under your bright coral umbrella to cross the avenue towards the ritzy building housing the trendy restaurant.

His cologne clings to his collar, softening the naturally spicy, masculine warmth of his skin. You're having to chastise yourself about not giving into the impulse of nuzzling his neck in public while you both stick close together and weave through the crowd of patrons waiting in the foyer in order to get to the hostess stand and check in.

The space has an elegant, candlelit ambience apropos for the special occasion, decorated tastefully in romantic shades of red, gold and ivory, and bustling with parties of patrons who're partaking in drinks and gourmet dishes. That, combined with a killer view of the beach from one side and the glimmering city lights on the other? It's obvious to Javier why this place is a hot-ticket spot.

"Ah, is that them?" you query and gesture over at the crowded entry.

He turns and sees that Steve and Connie indeed have just entered and are weaving their way through the crowd of waiting patrons. Raising his hand to wave and get the other couple's attention, Javi conspiratorially mutters to you, "This'll be the first time I bring a girl around to the gringos, so don't let them pressure you into telling all our business—"

You snicker and playfully swat his bicep. "Oh, so I shouldn't mention the time we did that roleplay? How I was inspired by Agent Murphy and I channeled him when I pretended to be your naughty partner—?" is your mischievous drawl that you let trail off when he looks down at you with mild mortification flashing across his stony features.

"Unless you want me to crawl under the table and die from shame? No, you can definitely leave that one out of any conversation, atrevida," Javi growls huskily in your ear, and you grin.

Affectionately pinching his side, you scoff and razz, "I know how much of a prude you are in mixed company, chulito, so no worries. I was only teasing anyway."

He gives you a gruff chuckle and shakes his head, but has no chance to counter when Steve and Connie make it over to you both now. Steve's in a dark blue suit with a nice blue-and-black-striped polo underneath the blazer, while Connie wore a pretty champagne-colored dress, with her blonde locks down behind her bare shoulders.

You all greet each other warmly, the fellas shaking hands while you and Connie kiss them on their cheeks before Javier jokes as introduction, "—This is Steve's much better half, Connie," before the blond scoffs and shakes his head.

"And this, is Javi's one true love, Celina," Steve can't help lob sardonically right back, which has Javier pointedly setting his jaw askew as he flippantly glowers at his buddy's smug, grinning face.

You and Connie pay their frat-like hazing of each other no mind as you exchange a quick hug and peck on the cheek alike.

"It's so nice to finally meet you!" Connie chimes with genuine joviality.

"I know, I can't believe it's taken this long! I feel like I already know you," you quip before adding conspiratorially, "I think these two have secretly kept us apart—"

"Now, what reason would we have for doing such a thing?" Steve cuts in with a blameless hum as he puts his arm around Connie's shoulders and tries to look as innocent as his tone.

Javier puts his hand around your waist and just shakes his head while you snicker up at him after he laconically wisecracks, "As if we could ever manage something like that, with Captain Obvious here?"

The hostess soon calls your name and you're all able to be escorted to your north-facing table, with the lovely view of the coastline lit up by the nightlife beyond. Before long, you're all enjoying your wine and appetizers while you chat like the oldest friends.

Sat at your left, you steal glances at Javi while Connie sits to your right and regales you with a story about the first time he'd made her laugh – after the 'Puff incident.'

"—I was so depressed that morning, and when he came up to get Steve to go to the embassy, he gave me this nice bottle of wine, and said, 'I'm sorry about Puff. Today, we're gonna sweat the guys who dimed him out and make 'em pay,' and he took my hand and gave me such a look, I just, it made me crack up," she tells you, snickering as she fondly adds, "And then they came home that night, and we had dinner, broke open the wine, and they told me how they interrogated the assholes, and it made me feel better."

You're delighted by the story, giggling along while you chirp, "Was it the big, round, puppy eyed look?"

"Yes!" she exclaims and giggles with you, all to Javi's modest chagrin and Steve's enjoyment.

By the time you're all on your main courses, the conversation has shifted to you telling Connie funny anecdotes starring Steve. Javier is smirking triumphantly while his buddy takes his turn in the proverbial hot seat as you tell Connie about the time Steve had arrived like a bat out of hell to chastise Javier, and ended up referring to you as one of his 'working girls' in front of you and Carrillo. He proudly watches as you retell word-for-word the exchange, without an ounce of sheepishness, and then smile goofily when Steve nods guiltily over at Connie when she gapes at him.

"—I felt really bad afterwards! After all, with this one's track record, how would he have known?" you're saying now and gesturing irreverently at Javier, who's smirk falters into a pout.

"Still! He should've known better than to say something like that in front of people," Connie tuts in a faux-admonishing tone before scrunching her nose comically at Steve. "Always putting your foot in your mouth—"

"And ya'll wonder why we took our sweet time putting the two of you together," Steve can't help drawl in a raspy twang and sarcastically look over at Javi who grunts a gravelly sound of agreement as he twists his lips in feigned displeasure.

Laughing, you and Connie amusingly jeer them before you then regale her with the story of how you'd recruited Steve to smuggle you into the CNP headquarters so you could surprise Javi for his birthday. You take special glee when describing how Javier had reacted when he'd come into the dorm room and discovered you waiting for him, dressed in a CNP clerical uniform.

"—His face was priceless! I wish I could've gotten a picture," you're saying teasingly as you pat Javi's hand when he blows a raspberry contrarily at your assessment. "What? It was—"

"I still get a rush of panic whenever I think about it!" Javi complains, but his lopsided smile betrays him. "Constant adrenaline rush with this one."

You snicker and playfully squeeze his hand, smitten with how he lovingly clasps yours. So much so, you don't even bat an eye when he pulls you in for a quick kiss.

The affectionate display is organic, but no less meaningful to the other couple, who have never seen Javier so enamored, let alone so outwardly demonstrative with his romantic feelings.

When you and Connie both excuse yourselves to go to the ladies' room a short while later, Javier takes a long pull from his glass of wine as Steve leans over and muses, "I reckon they're going to be thick as thieves now, so I hope there aren't any secrets left between you? I'd hate for Connie to accidentally blurt something out—"

Scoffing amusedly, Javi shakes his head and licks his lips before answering, "Not a one. Things are different this time."

"You sure? It wasn't too long ago that you were worried," Steve hints, and at Javi cocking a brow at him, he elaborates, "C'mon, you didn't know if she'd kick you in the dick, or just call you a bastard and run away—"

"Well, she settled for slapping the shit out of me, cursing me out, and storming off, instead," Javi cuts in acerbically, and shrugs when Steve gives him an incredulous look. "Then, she showed up at my door later that night, apologized, and we talked it out. I made it clear why I came down here, she told me she thought I'd abandoned her – that she'd tried getting ahold of you, and when that didn't pan out?"

They exchange a look, and realization hits.

All the pieces of the story fall into place, and Steve hums and takes a sip of his wine before remarking, "Well, shit…bet the makeup sex was off the fuckin' charts."

Snorting, Javi has no compunction to be elusive, so he leans back in his chair and rubs at his chin as he retorts matter-of-factly, "It sure as hell was."

Returning from the ladies' room not soon after, you and Connie are arm-in-arm as you amiably chatter, and by the time you both slip back into your seats, you're already finalizing plans to hang out this weekend.

"—Usually we just walk around and window shop while Anita pushes the baby in the stroller, so bring the kids! There are cute little areas for Olivia to play throughout the mall, and there's a 'Kid's Escape' upstairs near the food court," you're telling her as you slip your napkin back onto your lap.

"Oh, that sounds great!" Connie beams before jovially inviting, "You two should come over for dinner sometime this week."

Smiling over at Javi, you beam, "We'd love to."

Connie is already planning out loud the dinner, and when you agree and promise to bring over a nice wine to go with it, Javi glances coolly over at Steve's delighted smirk.

Then Connie puts Javier on the spot when she bossily looks over at him before stating, "I'm so annoyed at you for keeping her a secret for so long!"

He lulls his head back and groans, earning a chuckle from you at his expense.

Dessert arrives a short while later, and whilst you each partake in the rich, decadent treat the waiter had set in the center of the table for the four of you to share, you notice a well-dressed photographer working his way through the dining section as he offers to snap photos for each table he stops at, so you look over to Javi and see he'd followed your gaze and spotted the man coming your way.

It made heat pool in his chest – seeing you preen to get in together for the snapshot, eagerly reaching for him to sidle close.

You all pose for the photo, and in a flash, it's taken to memorialize the wonderful evening. When you dreamily glance at Javi, your heart throbs at how he smiles at you, and it takes all of your control not to just pull him into the passionate kiss you're now yearning to ensnare him in – gratuitous public displays be damned.

He leans in and whispers into your ear, "I'm dying to kiss you."

Squeezing his thigh under the table, you bite your lip and give him a look that makes your unspoken retort clear: 'So am I.'

By the time dessert is partaken in, the fellas eye each other knowingly before asking for the check, and since both know it'll be futile to argue, they just compromise by placing both their cards down. You and Connie are gloatingly told to polish off the rest of the bottle of wine while you wait, so you do so over entertaining talk of work.

"—I love my ASAC. Super competent guy," Steve is remarking, then snickers when Javi makes a noncommittal grunt in response. "You could just fire him—"

"Fire who?" you inquire, surprised, since you and Javi haven't delved into your work routines in depth since he'd assumed his role.

"Ryan Segarra. He's my ASAC," Javi replies on an exhale before dismissively waving the topic off. "Aside from him, everyone on the team here is great. I can't complain."

"Gonna let the guy hang himself, huh," Steve chuckles, earning a wry swat to the bicep from Connie.

"The way he's going, that shouldn't be long," Javier deadpans, and at your brows arching, he shrugs and quips, "I told you once before: I make for a shitty boss—"

You reach out to take his hand and give it a fortifying squeeze. "That's not true," you tell him with genuine tenderness, before you imperiously add, "And I've told you, I won't abide that kind of talk, chulito."

Javi's dark brown eyes crinkle at the edges as a smile ghosts his lips before he mutters, "Not in front of the gringos, querida."

Connie and Steve humorously jeer him while you theatrically roll your eyes and give his shoulder an impish nudge before humming a silly sound.

Once the bill is settled and the waiter returns with the two copies of the group photograph, you all make your way out to the foyer and through the crowd to the exit.

Admiring your copies of the picture to make sure they're perfect, you and Connie take the time to exchange contact info while Steve and Javi hold the umbrellas over you both so you don't get too wet from the drizzling rain.

"What's with the florescent orange umbrella?" Steve razzes while holding his plain black one whilst Connie finishes arranging everything back into her purse.

"It's mine, but I let him borrow it," you answer for Javi, smirking when he seems relieved to not have to quip an excuse. "I think it brings out the warmth in his eyes," is your elegantly chimed drawl as you slink against him and unabashedly purse your lips at Javi's droll stare.

"Alright, time to take this one home before she gets any more brazen," Javi jokes.

After you all exchange hugs goodbye and wish each other a good night, Javi escorts you back to the car, strategically helping you avoid puddles and potholes along the way. And after he's rounded to the driver's side once you're nice and secure in your seat, you sit patiently while he shuts the umbrella, shakes it free of excess droplets, and shuts his door. He looks over to see you waiting, as if you're going to say something, but you instead grab his coat lapel to tug him close so you can kiss him with all the simmering yearning you've burned with all evening.

His hand cups your cheek when he deepens the kiss with a gravelly hum, and you instinctually caress yours up from his chest to snake into the back of his hair.

Before the kiss can get torrid, though, Javi pulls away and sighs.

With a molten glint in his dark eyes, he croons, "You, behave and let me drive us home before you start seducing me—"

You scoff and flirtatiously nudge him back into his seat as you flop back into your own. "Mira quien habla," is your deriding chuckle, squinting your eyes mirthfully at him as you pristinely fold your hands over your clutch sat in your lap and tut, "Well then? Hop to it, my dear Valentine, you."

He laughs and shakes his head sardonically at you as he puts the key in the ignition and puts his seatbelt on.

Soon, he's ferried you both out of the nightlife district and towards your side of town.

As he drives down the main avenue towards your building, you happily gaze at him before gushing, "That was so much fun. I had a wonderful time. I love Connie. You and Steve are such dopes for not letting us meet up sooner!"

"I distinctly remember a certain chingona who wouldn't let me tell anyone about her, let alone bring her over to my partner's place for dinner," Javier can't help mock in a rugged baritone before shooting a glib glance your way. When you purse your lips to thwart the sly smile threatening to crest your features, he charms, "I think we won't have any issue making up for lost time, though."

You agree, "Most definitely. Be prepared, because I see a lot of hanging out and dinner dates in the future with the Murphys! And, I'm totally going to make her and Anita friends, so you and Steve will need to play with Ellis and not exclude him from guy time—"

He's pulling into the driveway of the condo building and lowering his window to punch in the code for the security when he chortles, "'Guy time'?"

"Yes!" is your congenial chirp, smiling when he hums and purses his lips.

"Rose is a good guy, so that's fine by me," he tells you as he drives down the carport to park in your visitor's spot.

You're eagerly buzzing with anticipation as you get out of the car and see Javi grab a duffle bag from the back seat and hangs it on his shoulder before he rounds to take your hand and escort you up into the building.

"So, early day tomorrow?" you query as you both enter the lobby and head for the elevators. You wave at the night clerk as you pass his desk, then affably tell Javi, "Don't worry, I'm only asking so I know to set the alarm. Not because I plan on dragging you out for a morning jog."

He lets out an amused huff as he presses the button to the elevator, then tows you in when the door slides immediately open. "I do have an early conference call, but if you're going for a run before work, I'm definitely tagging along," he's drawling as you press the button for your floor and steer him to sidle close when you lean into the wall so you can grin cheekily at him.

"Ok, but I gotta warn you: My usual jogging route is gonna get you winded," you teasingly singsong, loving how he cups the small of your back and gives you a silly, mocking scrunch of his nose that curls his mustachioed top lip. "I'm serious—"

"Jogging is not the same as running – which is what I've been doing, and gotten in great shape from, if I do say so myself," he smugly rumbles and pinches your waist playfully when the elevator arrives at your floor.

You hum teasingly and take his hand to bossily tow him along to lope to your door. "Yes, but that can't be sustained for prolonged periods or across varying terrain," you chuckle and squeeze his hand while he reaches into his other pocket for your apartment key.

Swiftly slipping it into the lock, he opens the door for you and affectionately caresses his palm along your lower back as he guides you in over the threshold. "Guess we'll just see," he draws out in his imitation of your lilting drawl.

You both are charged with desire, and know the idle chatter is to prolong the excitement by building up the anticipation, but Javi is already dying to break when he locks the deadbolt behind himself and tosses your keys onto the console by the door. Especially when you take your time admiring the bouquet after you set your clutch aside on the kitchen counter after turning on the hall light.

"Tell me you have a pair of skimpy running shorts along with your sneakers in that bag?" you can't help purring and shooting him a sultry glance over your shoulder as you strut down the hall towards your bedroom.

You hear his footfalls following you, and the excitement tingles in the seat of your core as you enter your bedroom, turn on the lamp on the nightstand, and head to the dresser so you can take your earrings off and place them in your jewelry box.

You've just shut the box and started letting your hair down from the clasp when he shuts the light in the hall off, tosses his duffle down in front of the wicker chair, then strolls up behind you to encircle your waist and nuzzle the back of your neck.

You smile at him in the mirror when he counters roguishly, "Do you wear skimpy running shorts for your little jogs?"

"Not skimpy, but they're stretchy and tight – little bike shorts that keep everything cinched in," you answer simply, trying to keep from melting against him as his hands caress your hourglass shape while he trails his lips languidly down the column of your neck.

Glancing at you from below his lashes, Javi skims an open mouth kiss back up your neck so he can murmur in your ear, "I just realized. I went the whole day, and haven't told you I love you yet."

You feel butterflies in your womb and a warm flourish of joy fill your chest at his words. So, you turn in his arms and sigh before silkily humming, "Ah, already taking me for granted, hm?" while you frame his face in your hands and lovingly smile at him.

His eyes soften on you as he grunts in disagreement before husking, "Mi amor—"

"I know you do, Javi. You don't have to say it all the time," you cut in serenely and caress your touch over his features, fingers brushing his hair back from his forehead as you whisper, "You know that I love you, right?"

He nods and closes his eyes when your fingertips brush over his brow and forehead while your other hand smooths the hair at the back of his nape. "I do," he exhales contently as your touch continues to soothe over his temple, then glides down to his cheek.

"Good," you murmur breathily before lilting, "So then, you'll let me give you a Valentine treat?"

Dark eyes opening to focus on your tempting smile, Javi mumbles, "You're all the treat I need."

You hum and steer him backwards as you slip your hands under his jacket and slowly work them up to ease it off from his shoulders. "Well, good thing that the treat I have in mind, involves me," you chime as you guide his coat down his arms and fling it to the wicker chair, then turn to present your back to him, before requesting, "Help me out of this dress?"

The sexy look you shoot over your shoulder at him holds an unspoken promise that has his pulse racing and heat rising under his skin, so he cups your hip as he eagerly eases the zipper down before you slip the straps off your arms and let Javi guide the dress down so you can step out of it. He drapes it unseeingly over the armrest of the wicker chair while he stares hungrily at your form.

Arousal tangles into a tight coil at his center that has desire throbbing down into his loins at you having had nothing on underneath the dress, except for the red lace thong panties that always drive him wild. Combined with the seductive way you toss your hair out to cascade down your shoulders so that your bare breasts aren't draped by your luscious locks? It's all enough to have his urge sparking up into a positively primal frenzy.

Slowly, you step out of your heels and slide them aside before turning to slink up against him now so you can provocatively strip him slowly of his clothes.

Javi lets you, titillated by the worshipful way you undo each button, working his dress shirt off, then move on to unbuckle his belt, unfasten his trousers, and kneel to remove his boots for him before you strip him of everything and lean back to gaze up at his chiseled, nude form before you. His muscles are tense with anticipation, and the tendons in his thighs flex when you glide your hands up his legs before you nuzzle his hip.

Heat singes across his cheeks at how you look up at him with possessive allure in your scintillating eyes just as you wrap your hand around his throbbing shaft and lick the head of his cock.

You savor the salt on his skin, relishing the breathy way he groans and shivers at your oral havoc as you suck and toy your tongue over his sensitive tip. Seeing his fists remaining clenched at his sides turns you on even more – emboldening you, because it speaks volumes for how much self-control he's exerting in order to let you have your way. You can practically feel the way he's yearning to dominate you – to possess your pleasure by giving it to you with the ardor he's been smoldering with all day. It makes desire burn like a beacon in you to know how much he wants it, coupled with the pride of knowing he loves when you initiate and delight in the control.

It truly is taking everything he's got to not buckle under the urge to take over and dominate you.

But the sinful heaven of your mouth, and the luscious way you worship his throbbing cock is too decadent for him to go without. Not when you look so glorious in dominating him while on your knees, and finally take the length of him into your mouth and moan around it.

You take him as far as his shaft can go, and at the flutter of your gag reflex in the back of your mouth, Javi's hand instinctively cups your shoulder before his fingers card into your hair and tangle there. "Holy fuck, querida," he gravels out and tenses when you hollow out your cheeks around him, encouraging him to not withhold his pleasure. His eyes roll back when you move your other hand from his hip to instead cup his warm sac just as you stroke and suck him hard, causing his voice to crack as he hitches hoarsely, "Jesus fucking Christ—M'gonna come, b-baby—"

You take that moment to take him as far as he can go once more, and the tremor at the back of your throat as you swallow has Javi's fingers trembling as he grabs your shoulder and moans out in his raucous climax. He swears in mindless bliss as his cum fills your mouth and you prolong his pleasure with gusto – hands caressing around to hold him close by his hips while you indulge in the high of making him yours, while on your knees.

The minute his lusted-out haze fizzles enough to realize his hands are buried in the back of your hair while you're regaining your breath with your head resting against his abs as you keep you both stood in place, he passionately hauls you up and tosses you onto the bed before making short work of yanking your delectable red lace panties off to join the rest of his clothes.

You let out an airy gasp as you rush to settle farther up on the bed and Javier thwarts you by braceleting your ankle and yanking to glide you back down so he can hoist your legs apart before he buries his head between your thighs.

"Oh, Ja-Javi!" you hiccup out as he parts your drenched folds with a lascivious lick of his tongue that has you arching like an electric charge tingled through your pulsing heat. And when he engulfs your thrumming clit with his full lips, you cry out and writhe, feeling much to wound up already to be able to hold out for long to his wickedly divine oral talents.

He can feel it in how your thighs clench and your pelvis rocks against the bed while you worry hard on your lower lip with your blunt teeth to keep from whining. He hates when you deny yourself in order to prolong things on his account, so, he possessively nuzzles into your inner thigh, suckling on your delicate skin there, then gives the spot a nippy bite.

You gasp out in surprise and let out a moan from the needy ache that settles into your pussy, whimpering, "Javi!" before he starts to soothe the bite with his tongue.

"Quit trying to deny yourself, and let me make you come, malcriada," he husks in a pitch like melted velvet as he stares up at you with an intense gleam in his dark-brewed eyes, before adding in a low growl, "Get on your hands and knees for me."

To say that your brain swears that you could spontaneously combust if you were a piece of kindling instead of a tingling, needy mess under his provocative stare wouldn't do justice to how roaring hot Javier has you after his command, let alone how desperately eager you are to do as he says.

You somehow muster the strength in your quaking limbs to fidget up and roll onto your tight tummy before hoisting yourself up on shaking joints – trembling in exhilarating anticipation.

Seeing you with your knees spread apart, eagerly waiting for him to give you what he knows you need, panting breathily as you arch your lower back and peer lustfully over your shoulder at him, is pure glory to Javi.

His body burns with primal accomplishment, and his cock is rock-hard all over again as he unabashedly bows to lick you from clit to ass.

The sound you let out has desire pulsing in his center, spurring him on to drive you over the precipice of incandescent pleasure as your toes curl and your hands wring in the bedding while desperate little mewls and cries fall from your mouth, frame quivering under the mounting rise of your climax. When it hits from the lascivious way Javi twirls his tongue – plunging into your fluttering sheath before gliding it to grind wantonly over your clit, you wail, "Javi!" in a reedy voice before dissolving into inarticulate mewls while your orgasm coats his ravenous mouth.

He groans in accomplishment before he replaces his tongue with his fingers so he can swipe your intoxicating taste from his moustache, mouth and chin with his hand before languidly kissing a path up to the nape of your neck.

"Mmm, good girl. Feel good?" he coos against your ear after you practically melt and flatten onto the bed in a tremulous heap.

"Dios mío, Javier," you exhale girlishly and bashfully bury your face in the bedding while shielding behind your folded hand. "I can't stop shaking," is your mumbled snicker when he smugly nudges his way between your folded hand and the bed so he can nuzzle you in a dominant show of approval. You shift to curl into him and whisper, "You know how wild you make me when you talk like that."

He hums, drawling in a canela-rich purr, "Makes me feel the same way when you get all mandona, too. I don't think I could ever pick between them—"

"We'll never have to, galán," you croon and toss your leg over his hip before clinging to him as you enthusiastically roll him onto his back so you can straddle his lap, then lilt, "Not when I love how good we are together," before you grope your hands up his chest to caress his warm, stubbly cheeks as you silkily murmur, "Now, I'm going to ride you, naughty boy."

Javi lights up under you at that, and plants his palms to your hips as you undulate your core over him until his ramrod cock is notched at your entrance and you rut down on it.

You both get swept up in the throes of passion as you set the pace while Javi fucks up into you, murmuring decadently sweet and sultry things to each other. Yearning to trigger the devastating rapture you both have only been able to find with one another.

The soft pitter-patter of the light drizzle outside is drowned out by the sounds of you and Javi making love, too swept up in the carnal ecstasy that had been stoked between you for too long.

When you each reach bliss one final time and fall onto the covers together in sated exhaustion, there is only tranquility as you lullingly brush dreamy kisses along each other's lips before you tuck against him and doze off. Spent, Javier lethargically reaches the nightstand to switch the lamp off, then tugs the covers over you both before he rests his head on the pillow and drifts off right after he noses into the top of your mussed hair, content and serene with you in his arms.

It's all you've both been looking forward to. The effortless gravitation between you only getting stronger and pulling you back into harmonious balance.

Neither of you anticipate the tribulations that're just around the corner, ready to try pulling you apart once again.

No, for now, the reflection of everything you want – of the previously deferred plans you'd once shared – is the only thing you're looking ahead to.

________________

Read Chapter 43: Still

Spanish-English Glossary:

Mi amor = My love

Cristo amado = Christ beloved

Hermosa/hermoso = beautiful (female); beautiful (male)

Querida/querido = Affectionate term, akin to expressing one's want and desire

Galán = Handsome gent

A bañarnos, mi cariñito = To bathe ourselves, my sweet little darling

Atrevido/Atrevida = Daring man/Daring woman

Beyako = Puerto Rican slang for horny/naughty guy; akin to "horn dog"

No me mires así, mi amor = Don't look at me like that, my love

Mi tiernita = My tender little girl

Te presento mi jevo pronto = I'll introduce you to my boyfriend soon

Cafetera = Coffee kettle

Chulo/Chulito = Cute guy; little cutie

Chavón = A man that's pestering you

Tan controlador = So controlling (male)

Canela = Cinnamon

Provocadora = Provoker (female)

¡Que viva el amor y duren los encantos! Que el mundo se entere que nos amamos tanto, El amor es perfecto cuando se ama, Amor transparente más claro que el agua = Long live the love and the charms last! Let the world know that we love each other so much, Love is perfect when you love, Love transparent clearer than water

Mira quien habla = Look who's talking

Chingona = Mexican slang for bad ass woman

Tan cellos = So jealous (female)

Jodón = Pain in the ass

Bravita= Tough girl; feisty girl

Fresco = A guy who's being 'fresh', or naughty/pervy

Preciosa = Gorgeous; precious

Avena = Oatmeal

Cariño = Darling/sweetheart

Panadería = Bakery

Buen provecho = Bon appetit

Mofongo relleno de camarones = A caribbean delicacy made of fried plantains smashed into a dome and covered with shrimp, usually in a creole tomato-based stewed sauce

Gatita = Little kitten

Crees que siendo mi jevo = [You] think that being my boyfriend

Nena = Girl

Tesoro = Treasure; darling

Cuídate = Take care

Las [h]Adas = The Fairies, but in this case it's a play on words, since all three girls' names end in 'A', aka "The A-das"; hadas are fairies

Mandona = Bossy lady

Caserío = Public housing; housing project

Tecatos = Puerto Rican slang for drug addicts, specifically heroin users; also used to refer to shiftless good-for-nothing people

Guapita = Sassy/foxy/daring/testy lady

Hermosa/hermoso = beautiful (female); beautiful (male)

Marquesina = Open air garage or carport

Puñeta = Puerto Rican slang for "Fucking"; very bad word; equivalent to "Fuck"

Cabrón = Asshole

Socio = Business partner

Ah pues bien, Señor Gatsby = Oh well fine, Mister Gatsby

Su jeva tiene estilo = Your girl has style

Guapito = Handsome (said in an affectionate diminutive)

Mi cariñito = My sweet little darlińg

Mi Valentín tan guapo = My super handsome Valentine

Corazón = Heart; pet name to signify how deeply you love someone

Malcriada/malcriado = Brat/spoiled

Dios mío, Javier = My god, Javier

The song referenced and translated above is "Amor Perfecto" by El Gran Combo de Puerto Rico. And the "roleplay" reference Celina made in this chapter that got Javi hot and bothered is from the drabble, Partners.

Thanks for reading! Please consider leaving a comment and sharing your feedback. I would be eternally grateful. 

#Heat - Narcos fanfic #Heat #Javi x Querida #Javi x Celina #Javier Peña #Javi Peña #Javi Peña x Latina OFC #Latina OFC #Javilina #Pedro Pascal characters #Narcos #Narcos fanfiction #Javi Peña fan fiction #Javi Peña fanfiction

[furious-rogue-stuff]

Rooting for Javi and Querida like I'm a sports fan and own their jersey. I want these little fictional people to be happy together so bad.

Awwww, dearest anon!

I love this sentiment 🤗 I wonder what their team name would be! Some folks came up with Javilina for their couple name 😄 which was so good~

#Heat love #Thanks anon! #Javilina #What would their team name be?!

[furious-rogue-stuff]

I am captivated by your writing especially with the detail and your descriptions. What I love is most is Javi and Querida’s dynamic and the love they have for each other. When they’re on, they love each other to the fullest and I am obsessed with that!! I can’t wait for more from you!!

🥺

Thank you. Your message is too kind, and it makes me happy you're enjoying the story so much. Writing their story gives me life, so I promise to update soon!

#Heat love #thank you for the love! #Javi x Querida #Javi x Celina #Javilina