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pedrostylez · 4 months

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How The Crow Flies - pt. 7

Javier Peña x fem!reader x Frankie Morales crossover

Word count: 3.8k

Chapter Summary: You stay an extra day in the jungle because your feelings about Frankie are too confusing, Javi is concerned and calls you a lot

Chapter Warnings and Disclaimers: 18+ only. I am not responsible for what you read on the internet. You have been warned! Locations and descriptions of places may be inaccurate in comparison to each story (Narcos and Triple Frontier). Timelines are obviously different between the two stories, so we are going to meet in the middle and say we are in the early 2000s. These are not necessarily canon characters in regard to how they act, how they treat people, and their current relationships. DUBCON mentions and references, SMUT!!!! p in v sex (not wrapped up, but obvs be safe irl), some violence and threatening with knives but maybe it's hot, BLOOD OKAY NOT A LOT AND ONLY A LITTLE FREAKY ABOUT IT, SUE ME. dirty talk, anxiety, feelings that are confusing and not expressed well (reader compartmentalizes she must be a Capricorn)

A/N: Hey ya'll! I don't know NOTHING about Miami; never been, and I don't plan on going, so don't judge me for how I scrolled in reallllllll close on google maps, okay? I did an edit in my document, but within tumblr I didn't so if you see mistakes no you don't. In all seriousness, if I have missed any tags for trigger warnings, please let me know and I will fix it. Thank you for reading!!!

Taglist: @thevoiceinyourheadx @suzdin @survivingandenduring @bariskaplans @inept-the-magnificent @casa-boiardi @paleidiot @darkheartgatita @missladym1981

The trilling ring pierces his ears, irritation growing with each passing second. The click of your voicemail, followed by silence as Javier hopes and waits that you’ve picked up. Javier growls into the speaker when it’s clear that you haven’t, anger clear on his face. “Fucking call me back, or at least answer your damn phone.” He slams his receiver down, sighing heavily.

You hadn’t called him back or picked up the phone in over a week. He knew it was his fault; how he treated you, how he wouldn’t listen to you. How he was unable to tell you exactly what he was wanting and feeling made him angry all over again.

And to top it off, Jason was up his ass. “Hey, boss.” Jason called, too cheery to be in his office. “Any word from the jungle?”

“No.” Javier grunted, leaning back in his chair. He had given up on trying to keep what you were doing under wraps from Jason and David. “But she’ll be back tomorrow.”

Jason sits hesitantly in the chair across from him, sliding him a coffee cup. “Based on her most recent information, I think we have enough to go in there.” He says, taking a sip from his own mug. “She’s confirmed there’s drugs out there, and that there is money in and out. We don’t have to know where the money is to–”

“Let’s see what she comes back with this time.” Peña says, popping the top of the disposable coffee cup off to let it cool down. “It’ll be soon though, I don’t want…I don’t want this leaving the four of us.”

“I know.” Jason sighs, looking behind him. Bill Stechner walks by, just as Jason looks back to Peña with raised eyebrows. “I assume because we don’t want him to know?”

Peña rolls his eyes, shooing Jason away. Jason of course was correct, Stechner was in fact the reason you were secretly in the jungle and not surveying the Cali Cartel. But Javier wanted to stand by his promise to keep you safe, and so he would.

Your cellphone beeps on the table, Peña’s name scrolling across the screen and flashing for what feels like the millionth time. You roll your eyes, legs shaking under the kitchen table of Yovanna’s crash house.

It’s your last night in this place, and while you won’t miss it, it makes you sad to see all of your stuff fit into one bag. You know you’ll have to do the same to the apartment that Peña had set up for you, but the jungle feels like a completely different world from what you go back to every other weekend.

You feel a pang in your chest at the thought that Frankie may not show up, and that you’ve wasted your time just to spend one more night with him. Peña will be more furious than he already is and you’ve risked blowing your cover.

It’s easy to convince yourself that you are stringing Frankie along to gather more information’ it’s the easiest excuse for when Peña ultimately berates you. Something in the back of your mind nags you that it isn’t just for more information; that you are having feelings.

You’re shaken out of your thoughts when your phone begins beeping again and a knock comes to the door. You shoot up out of your seat, silencing your phone and sliding it into your pocket before taking a deep breath and waiting.

A knock comes again, and you race to the door, opening it to find Frankie leaning against the porch post opposite the door. He smirks, looking down at your body and back up again. “Changed your mind?” He drawls, arms crossed over his chest.

You shrug, turning to let him through the door. “Figured another day wouldn’t hurt.” He chuckles, boots heavy as he steps forward.

When Frankie steps past, you smell something different–the cigarettes, the jungle seem to be no longer lingering on his skin. The smell of musk fills your senses, and your insides melt at the thought that he put on cologne for you.

Frankie eyes your packed bags, looking back at you with his ears red. “Ready to bail though, I see.”

You nod, giving a half smile. “Yovanna said that the lease is up and that she’s not renewing so…sort of my last night close to the jungle.”

Frankie hums, looking around briefly before turning back to you. “You want to make it count?”

You can’t help the smile that creeps up your face, shutting the door behind you and leaning against it. “What did you have in mind?”

The look on Frankie’s face changes, determined as he steps toward you. His hands rest on your hips, gently pulling you away from the door and into his body. He’s warm, heat radiating from his skin and through his clothes to you.

You sigh, hands naturally traveling up to his shoulders to support yourself. Their taunt, pulled tight in his shirt and you think that maybe he’s…nervous.

Frankie turns with you in his arms, smirking when you gasp in surprise. “Thought I might bend you over the couch. Maybe…eat you out on the counter for breakfast.” His voice is low and trying to be intimidating, but you swear you hear it wobble with unease.

“You want me all to yourself all night long, huh? What if I had other customers?” You tease, pushing him away enough to reach for the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head.

His eyes widen, pupils blown and mouth agape. “No need to lie; you’re not a whore.”

“Who says?” You question, reaching behind you to undo the clasp of your bra. He steps forward, stopping you in your tracks and runs his fingers up your spine. His fingers tangle with yours, popping the clasp open.

“Me.” He sighs, letting the bra fall to the floor between you. He ghosts his hands to your front, pinching gently and watching you. “Tell me.”

“I’m not a whore.” Falls out of your mouth, unable to stop yourself from admitting the truth. His fingers glide down your abdomen, slowly undoing the button of your pants.

He chuckles, shaking his head and smiling at you. Frankie’s eyes bore into you, keeping you frozen as his hand covers the front of your panties. He groans when the heat radiates from you to his palm, his fingers twitching. “No, but you’re my whore, aren’t you?”

You find yourself nodding, mouth open to breath deeper. “Yeah.”

“Say it.” He bites out, holding you secure and still in his grasp.

Before you can speak he has you turning around, pushing you against the closest wall and grinding his center against yours. Still buttoned up pants restrain him, his cock hard and pushing against the fabric.

It’s embarrassing, the way your underwear sticks uncomfortably to your center as he grinds. He’s quick as he pushes down his pants enough to let himself spring free, grasping himself to stroke just a couple times before leaning forward to let his mouth wander.

Down your spine Frankie trails wet lips, hot air puffing out onto your raised skin. He’s quick as he strips your underwear from you, biting briefly into the meat of your ass to hear you gasp before sinking himself into you. You close your eyes, pleasure coursing through your veins at the feeling of him fully seated inside you. It’s a whisper, barely audible as you say. “I’m your whore.”

Frankie doesn’t stop, thrusting harder and laughing. His hand planted on your hip comes up to your face, gently pushing it away from your cheek to get a better look at you. “That’s right baby. My whore.”

Agent Peña calling

The flash on the tiny screen of your cell phone is bright in the dark room that Frankie lays in, waking him enough to glance over to your spot in the bed to see you’re not there.

Agent Peña calling

This time he picks up the vibrating device, furrowing his brow at the name and racking his brain to see if Santiago had said it before. He does not know this man, but you do.

Agent Peña calling

The shower is running, and Frankie doesn’t know what time it is but he’s itching to pick up the damn phone. Why would an agent be calling you? How many clients–

Frankie’s blood runs hot as the phone finally stops and he’s able to open it up into the most recent calls.

Agent Peña incoming

Agent Peña outgoing

Agent Peña incoming

The one outgoing call from just a couple weeks ago stands out to him. The date makes him think of when he brought you to the motel for the first time. Frankie reads it once, twice, three times before he sets the phone back down in the same position he found it in, sitting up to reach for his jeans on the ground.

He shakes as he pulls his switchblade out; cold in his hand, the click of the blade flipping out and stepping out of your bed. He moves silently into the dark corner behind the bathroom door, adrenaline pumping through him. The shower shuts off, your soft hum as you move around the bathroom filters through the door before it opens, you tiptoeing your way out; you probably think he is asleep.

Frankie thinks that maybe this is a mistake, but his gut is telling him otherwise. Either he scares you and never sees you again, or he finds out the truth; right now.

When you step out fully he surprises you, circling one arm around your middle and the other holding the knife to your neck. He hears your inhale, feels you stiffen in his grasp, but you don’t scream.

“What the fuck do you do for a job?” He growls in your ear, pulling you tight to him to prove that you can’t escape. You won’t.

“I fuck men for a living, Frankie. You know that.” You’re too calm, too monotone for his liking.

“Fuck that.” He spits, spinning you around and bringing the knife into your vision. “We both know that you’re not a whore, and I’ve let you play your little games to get my dick sucked. So tell me, who is Agent Peña?”

He watches your eyes jump back and forth from his knife to his face, trying to remain neutral but looking for options; you’re too calm.

“Tell me right now, or I’ll let you bleed out and have him find you here.” Frankie says darkly, pressing the blade into your naked collarbone. You wince, a drop of blood dripping down.

“He doesn’t know where here is.” You’re caving, towel loose under your arms and ready to fall. Frankie watches you reach up to hold it secure, your fingers nervously adjusting. “I’m DEA.” You whisper, swallowing as the blood drips down your chest, between your breasts and into the towel. Frankie watches it drip, slow and methodical but you don’t seem to notice.

Frankie waits, but when you don’t come forward with more information, he prompts you. “Who’s Agent Peña?”

“My boss.” He presses the knife further into your skin, stepping toward the bed so you are forced to sit in front of him. Perched on the bed, clutching the towel to your front, looking up at him defiantly with blood smeared on your chest. You wince at the bite of the blade, sighing heavily. “Fuck–we’re after Lorea, okay?”

“Prove to me that you’re telling me the truth.” He pushes, moving the knife lower. You glance down to where the tip of the blade rests just below your collarbone, swallowing roughly. You close your eyes, taking a deep breath into what he assumes is calming yourself.

He can’t help but feel angry. Frankie rages inside at himself for not knowing better, not connecting the dots. Not telling Santiago so he could look into you further than what Yovanna had convinced him of.

In a way he feels played, that itch to have you growing inside of him into one of disgust. Frankie knows that this can’t last now; it was different if you were doing a job and got caught up in his circle, but to focus your attention on what he wanted? To go after what he was after too? He lied to you too, but your lie feels more and more like a betrayal.

“I don’t have my badge here.” Your voice snaps him out of his thoughts, looking down to see that he’s drawn more blood, prompting your response. He pulls away slightly, looking up to your face. You tell him your name, voice shaking and he realizes, terrified. “I worked in Miami for a few years, b-before I was reassigned to Colombia. I s-stopped most of the boats coming into the harbor.”

Frankie mulls over the information, brushing the knife away from your collarbone and down your arm. A chill runs over you, obvious to him in the dark. “Where did you live, in Miami?”

“Little Havana.” You gasp, looking up at him and trying to harden your features. Your hand tightens around the edge of the towel again, but Frankie doesn’t want that.

He leans forward, tisking at you and pulling your hand away. The towel follows, leaving you bare in front of him. He can’t help the groan that bubbles out of his throat. “That’s far away from the DEA office in Weston.”

You lean your hands back, letting yourself be exposed to him and staring him down. “Closer to the docks to stop the boats. I didn’t mind the drive.”

He stops his movements, keeping his pocket knife out but looking back up to your eyes. Will’s voice rings in his ears from years ago, a discussion about a DEA agent that patrolled the docks.

“This girl came down from up north, stopping those dogs in their tracks. They are maybe a few feet away from making their deliveries, I’m telling you!” Beer flows over the side of his cup at Will’s excitement, tapping Frankie on the shoulder. “She calls to them like a fucking siren, that’s what they’re calling her, gets them to admit who they are in 10 minutes flat, and then fucking arrests them. On the spot.”

“That’s badass.” Benny widens his eyes, looking to Frankie to see if he agrees.

Frankie sips on his drink, shaking his head. “Long trips overseas with just your buddies would have me caving to a pretty girl too.”

“You’re the Siren, aren’t you?” He questions, tilting his head to watch your reaction. The widening of your eyes, the shuttered sigh as you nod, has his heart soften. He flips the knife back into its holster, holding it in his closed fist. “I live in Westwood Lakes.” When you don’t respond, just staring at him and waiting, he pulls away. He hears your sigh, shaking his head. “You could have said–”

“No, I couldn’t have.” You say quietly, blinking roughly as if holding back tears before moving from the bed. When you stand, pushing past him and towel forgotten, you shakily walk over to your disheveled bag in the corner. He waits, knife still in his hand and watching. “You’re fucking ex-military, you know I couldn’t have blown my cover like that.”

The bite in your tone is new to Frankie, his frown appearing suddenly as he whips his head over to look at you. You’re bent over, ass on display to him and he can’t help how his cock stirs at the sight. “You could have said what you were so we could have helped each other out.” He sighs, tossing the knife on to the pile of his clothes.

“We did help each other.” You scoff, shaking your head and angrily putting on your shirt. “And you got your dick sucked and I got the information I needed to go tell my boss. Win-win.”

He laughs, surprised by your dismissal. “Why are you angry?”

He can see your face harden and then collapse, tears overflowing and down your cheeks. He notices briefly how your shirt is staining with small amounts of blood. “Because you! You weren’t supposed to fucking know who I was! You went through my phone.”

He shrugs. “It was ringing.”

The initial anger he had felt had dissipated as soon as he learned who you were; it changed everything for him. But somehow, that anger transferred to you at the inability to keep everything under the radar. This see-saw effect between the two of you was addicting for Frankie; one losing control, one calm. Then switch, all within the same conversation. Frankie can’t help but think that this is exactly what you need, to let your anger out on someone, even if it's him.

His thoughts are confirmed when you spit out, “So what? That fucker has been up my ass for week since I kicked him out–”

“You’re together?”

“No.” You’re firm, pulling pants up your legs and buttoning them more calmly. It’s like you caught yourself losing control.

“He’s fucking you too?” He questions. Your calmness sets a fire under him, a small voice in the depths of his mind poking him to get angry again. Instead, he focuses on what he thinks is the right question. “Your boss is taking advantage of you?”

“No. I’m taking advantage of him.” You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest before wincing, looking down at the blood stains left from his knife.

Frankie shakes his head, standing up and approaching you. “No, he’s taking advantage of you.”

You stare at him, dumbfounded and shaking your head. Frankie reaches for you–out of habit, and you bat his hand away before pointing at him accusatory. “What, like you aren’t? You’re a fucking hypocrite!”

He points right back at you, careful to not touch you but wanting to get his point across. “I told you exactly what I was doing. Has he?”

Quietly, you say, “He’s protecting me.”

“How? By blowing up your phone so some guy can hold a knife to your neck?” Frankie feels disgusted, learning that Peña is your boss, and is putting you in harm's way. He should know better. “Did any of your bosses back in Miami do something like that before? Put you in a difficult position where you had to give up who you were, just to stay alive?”

You pause, steaming, head barely shaking back and forth as you stare at him. You crack your neck, closing your eyes for a few breaths before opening them for him to see tears streaming down your face again. His heart hurts at the sight. “You’re not…some guy.”

You’re leaning toward him, hand falling toward his chest and resting lightly on his bare skin. Frankie doesn’t know what to say, eyes searching your face for any type of answer. When he doesn’t find one, he shakes his head and covers your hand with his over his heart. “You’re…distracting for me. And you keep secrets.”

He lets his other hand come up to rest on your cheek. You lean in, and Frankie can’t help but let his heart crumble a little more.“I had to. I’m sorry if I ruined what you were trying to accomplish.” You whisper, trailing your hand down his chest, his hand following yours.

“You didn’t ruin it.” He admits, moving his eyes to your wandering hand. He holds his breath, his cock twitching in his boxers and pressing against the fabric. You’re warm, stepping closer to him and snapping at the waistband of his underwear. Frankie briefly thinks about how this might look to Santiago and the rest of the guys if they find out that he’s been sleeping with you. He’ll be sent home instantly, even with the plan going through in just a day. “You can’t get in my way.”

“I won’t. We want different things.” You nod, letting your hand wrap around his now hardened member and give him a couple strokes. He closes his eyes trying to keep his breath steady.

Frankie doesn’t know what this means, doesn’t know how to proceed beyond what he’s longing to do right now. He clasps his hand around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. You look up to him, waiting to see if you can continue when he leans in and presses his lips to yours.

He’s hesitant, waiting for you to tell him to stop. He pulls back, flicking his eyes between yours briefly before you surge forward, desperate to have your mouth back on his.

Suddenly it’s frantic, his hands ripping at your clothes to take them back off, how you jump onto the bed and pull him to you by the back of his neck. He groans when you pull his hair, you sigh as he sinks into you again.

The sound of his thighs hitting yours over and over again fills the room. You gasp as he trails his mouth down away from yours, sucking harshly into your neck before going further down. Frankie continues to thrust, his tongue sticking out and lapping at where his knife had cut you.

“Fuck–Frankie–”

“I know baby. Just one more time for me, huh? I want to see you one more time.” He gasps, leaning back to watch you take him over and over again.

Your walls tighten around him, nails digging into his arms as he pushes through. Your head thrown back, neck and new hickey exposed, skin shining in the light still coming from the bathroom.

On the bedside table, your phone lights up again, vibrating loudly enough that both of your heads turn to watch it ring. Frankie pauses for only a moment, returning to thrusting and grabbing your face to turn back to him. “Mine. Do you get it? Mine.”

Your nod and the gasp of a “yes” is all Frankie needs to finish.

Javier’s blood boils, dialing your number again from his Jeep. He's sitting outside the apartment he paid for, anger roiling through him without another care in the world. Where are you?

He gets out of the car, stepping up on to the stoop and pounding on the door to listen. Maybe you were avoiding him, leaving the lights off and pretending you weren’t there to scare him. He dials another time, the windows dark in front of him, listening for the ringing of your phone. When nothing can be heard, he swears.

The beep of your voicemail dings in his ear, a sound he has gotten used to tonight. He sighs, looking around as if you might appear out of thin air. “Hermosa, please. Where are you?” He asks, shutting his phone and getting back into his driver’s seat.

He sets his phone on the dash, tapping on the steering wheel anxiously. After thinking for only a moment, he reclines the seat back, planning to camp in front of your apartment until the morning.

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