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wordywarriorwrites · 1 year

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Got You

Title: Got You | AO3 | Master List | Rating: M

Summary: Working at a ranch along the shores of The Rio Grande has always been dangerous, but Javier Peña makes it just a bit safer for you.

Pairing: Javier Peña x Female Reader

Warnings: Language. Smut. Violence.

A/N: I haven’t written anything in over a year, but I was inspired by watching Pedro Pascal in Narcos. Your feedback is always welcomed and appreciated.

The smugglers had broken through huge swaths of fencing along the waterline, and all that extra freedom had been too tempting for the cattle to ignore.

A handful had been lost to the other side of the border. Others had taken hours to herd out of the river and back onto dry land. You were knee-deep in water, trying to coax a stubborn heifer from the brush and onto the pebbled shore when you heard the rev of a motor.

And even on a hot day, that sound always managed to send chills up your spine.

A boat full of armed men coasted up, idled not ten feet from you, and made their demands clear: get in and let them have their way with you or be pumped full of lead and end up as fish food.

Part of your job was to help patrol the shores of the ranch, but you’d never done it alone, and you’d always carried a shotgun. But this time, it was an all-hands-on-deck situation, and the team was spread thin. You were on your own - that’s why they’d been brave enough to target you. And the pistol holstered at the small of your back was no match for the machine guns pointed in your direction. If you tried to make a run for it or reach for your gun, they’d mow you down.

You also knew if you got in that boat, you’d be dead or on your way to being trafficked before sunset.

One minute, you were alone, wondering if this was how you were going to die and if your body would be found before it was decimated by wildlife. The next, you were falling backward into the water because the pigheaded cow got startled by a sudden burst of gunfire and trampled you to escape.

Filled with adrenaline, you stayed under and swam your way to shore as fast as possible. When you surfaced, your heart was thundering in your ears, your lungs were burning, and you fell repeatedly as you scrambled out. The cow made a lot of ruckus as it waddled up the bank, and you shooed her on as you did a slip-and-slide right on after her.

Yelling and swearing and pop-pop-pop. A series of splashes. A putter of the engine and acrid smoke. You turned and saw three dead bodies. Watched as they bobbed and weaved in the current. There was one survivor, who was promptly sent to hell with a curse and a final bullet right between the eyes.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” you yelped as the brain matter plopped and splashed.

Javier Peña stepped out of the tall grass, voice low and tight, “You alright?”

You spooked like a cat. Reacted like one, too. Yowled and grabbed for your gun and swung wildly. The burning sun and dry wind felt suffocating. You wiped your forehead with the bank of your hand and came away with a streak of blood. Both the cow and Javier stared at you blankly from their place on the grass, and you knew you probably looked one bird short of needing the cuckoo’s nest, so, you didn’t blame the man for stepping forward and carefully prying the gun from your hand.

“What are you doing here, Javi?” you wondered.

He let out a ragged breath and tucked the gun into his waistband, “Just keepin’ an eye on you.”

You blinked slowly. Tried not to stare as the boat and the bodies of the dead men began to float downstream. The dust, the blood, and Javi’s all-too-knowing eyes. It reminded you of just how dangerous the smugglers were, and when you hobbled over the bunkhouse threshold an hour later, Javier knew what you needed because he understood it, too.

And he’d snuck into your bed enough times to know where you kept the good stuff.

You returned your gun to its holster and hung it up to dry. Javi fished two clean glasses from the dishrack and the bottle of Maker’s Mark out of the footlocker beneath your bunk. As he poured you both liberal doses, you gingerly sat on the mattress, and shakily lit a cigarette.

“Cow must’ve got you good on the way down,” he observed quietly as he went to his knees and yanked your soaked boots from your feet. “Might need stitches.”

“I’ll be alright,” you exhaled as you tapped ash into the tray next to you. “Besides, forehead wounds always bleed somethin’ awful. Doesn’t mean I need the sewing kit.”

You weren’t even halfway through your second glass when the others filed in to check on you. After assuring everyone you’d survived being shot at and kicked by a stubborn cow, they headed back to work. You, on the other hand, stubbed out your smoke and carefully got to your feet.

“I need to clean up,” you stated as you returned the bottle to its hiding place. “Your dad will want a report as soon as possible.”

Without waiting for a response, you grabbed your toiletry bag and headed for the bathroom. Other aches and pains - like your lower back, shoulders, and even your ribs - revealed themselves as you struggled out of your soaked clothes. You were about to step into the stall when Javi entered, furrow-browed and naked as a jaybird.

You cleared your throat and swallowed hard, “Still keepin’ an eye on me?”

He dipped his chin and placed his gun on the sink countertop. Keeping it within reach was more for his personal comfort than your benefit. You’d learned over time his gun was like a security blanket; he felt safer with it, never went anywhere without it, and it was always within arm’s reach.

As soon as the curtain slid shut, the adrenaline began to wear off. Your eyes welled with tears, and you hurriedly stuck your head beneath the spray to quell the sudden onslaught of emotions. It wasn’t the first time you’d been held at gunpoint, and you knew it certainly wouldn’t be the last. You needed to bury it. Muffle it and put it away because it would happen again, and blubbering about it wouldn’t change anything, but the moment a soft, soapy cloth touched your shoulder, the waterworks started.

“It’s okay, gato montés,” Javi murmured repeatedly as he carefully scrubbed. “You’re alright.”

You couldn’t stop hearing the jeering voices of those men. Couldn’t stop imagining what would’ve happened if Javi hadn’t shown up. And when he carefully pressed the cloth to the cut on your forehead, you splintered. You felt as if you were about to vibrate right out of your skin, and the makings of a scream began to build in your throat. It threatened to claw free, but before it could, you were wrapped up in Javi’s arms, and somehow, that pulled you out of the spiral.

“Peña,” you breathed.

“Oh, it’s back to Peña, is it?” he rasped. “Thought we’d gone well past that.”

Javier’s love - much like his rage - was quiet. Akin to the whisper of a blade between the ribs, it had snuck up on you painfully, unexpectedly, and in some ways, with devastating consequences. Sure, he was still a flirt, and yeah, the girlies really liked him, but he was steady. Protective. Fearless. Loyal to you.

And only you.

You laughed lightly and in response, Javi kissed you brutally. All teeth and tongue and no finesse or even a hint of gentleness. He pawed at you. Squeezed you. Tugged at your hair and gripped you tight without any thought to your tender ribs and muscles. You pressed yourself against him, whimpered with the ache of it, and the pain reminded you that you’d survived.

He gripped the back of your neck and let out a low groan, “M’gonna take you to bed. Now.”

His hot skin. The goose egg on your forehead. Both of you naked atop messy, damp sheets. You, wide-eyed and raw. Him, gaze weighted as it lingered over all your blacks and blues. Your shaky fingertips on his cheek and his warm breath on your goose-bumped flesh. It could’ve been worse - a hell of a lot worse - and your thoughts of torture and what the inside of a body bag looked like must’ve shown on your face because he abruptly rolled on top of you and grasped your chin.

“You’re mine,” he growled. “And they got what was comin’ to ‘em. Yeah?”

You were too stunned to speak or even move, but that didn’t seem to bother Javi. He just kissed you again. Bit at your neck, ears, and shoulders. Settled down between your legs, gripped your thigh, and hitched it over his hip. And when Javi slid inside, it was fast and to the hilt, and you let out a strangled groan at the burning stretch.

“Javi,” you wheezed. “Shit!”

Javi retreated slowly and pressed forward, “Wanna make you feel good. Gonna make you forget.”

Each thrust rocked the bunk and pushed you up the mattress. You planted your hand on the wall above your head to prevent your skull from being knocked because Javi’s pursuit of your pleasure was relentless. The slap of skin on skin and the wetness between your legs was vulgar, and when he rubbed slow circles on your clit with the pad of his thumb, you went from sensitive to overstimulated in a handful of strokes.

Blinding pleasure warred with acute pain, and it all centered in your lower stomach. You clenched on every downstroke, and he grunted a series of expletives into the crook of your neck. Javi knew how to draw it out; in fact, he preferred to get you there slowly and make it last, but not this time. He worked your clit furiously and the climax was so sudden and brutal, it brought a fresh wave of tears to your eyes.

“There ya’ go, gato montés,” he groaned in a satisfied tone. “Just like that.”

You trembled, body somehow simultaneously taunt and relaxed as he coaxed you further into submission. It didn’t take long before you were completely surrendered to him - legs wide and knees practically shoved up to your ears. Javi had you pinned and blinded by a hurts-so-good type of fuck that you weren’t sure how you were going to be able to sit in the saddle for the rest of the day.

The second wave followed right on the heels of the first. A thunderous gallop made even better by being maneuvered onto your stomach and taken from behind. Javi splayed over you, thrusts pointed, deep, and rhythmic. Your face turned and neck craned so he could stare into your eyes and kiss you, mouth soft and gaze tender - a direct contradiction with how he’d taken you.

You got yours again and then, he took his. Javi’s release was punctuated with chants of your name and sounds of relief. You felt sheltered. Protected by the weight and breadth of him. And your heart was fit to burst with the knowledge that this man had killed to keep you safe.

“I got you,” Javi breathed against your shoulder.

You sighed and closed your eyes, “I know.”

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