maryllow's ranch ⋆˙

my house is on burnt-out girl avenue ⭒˚ 🌱 ˚. [i write stuff. i think.]

[cowboylik3miller]

BACK ON THE HORSE

Joel Miller x you [f.reader.] — smut

[MINORS DNI!] 18+

Summary

September 26th was always reserved for Joel Miller in your calendar. Hell, in Jackson’s calendar as well.

Everybody knew it was his big day, even if he didn’t like spending it with strangers, still stung by the past. Spending it with family, though?

That was something entirely different.

With the day coming up soon, your plan to outdo yourself from the year before almost crumbles. You have no idea what to give him, aside from a small little gift he probably doesn’t need anyway—but you’re a thoughtful girlfriend and you cannot leave him without, at least, a little treat. He’s not a hard man to please, although he still doesn’t know how to accept gifts, not after years of trauma.

You decide to surprise him and show him how much he really means to you.

In the end, things go sideways in a way you two will never forget.

Warnings

TW // age gap [unspecified, less than 20 years], detailed sex, dom!joel, sub!reader/on top for a while, cowgirl, breeding kink, creampie, no condom on, mentions of cigarettes and alcohol, oral [m.receiving] — blowjob, missionary, cum mentions, intense language, praise kink mixed with just slight degrading, slight choking, baby fever, mentions of death, making out, boobs, hair pulling, possessiveness, PTSD mentioned, joel’s horny for moans, once again DETAILED, porn with plot!! (that why it starts a bit later, don’t be fooled), pregnancy mentioned???, slight overstimulation

WORD COUNT

around 5,6k words ─ ·✶·

Note

second smut of mine — this time with joel!! love him so so much, happy birthday to him!! it’s september 26th when i post this, wrote this in time to celebrate his bdayyyyy

next up… after that, definitely some hurt/comfort with joel… and maybe some pre-outbreak joel smut? 😋

ps: u can read it with both versions of joel in mind!!

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Waking up on September 26th was never a good thing to Joel Miller after the world ended. He didn’t like acknowledging his birthday, the Outbreak Day, the day he lost his daughter, though it happened just a few hours into the 27th. As much as folks in Jackson tried to make this day something good, especially Tommy, Joel was never keen on the idea.

That was, until you marched into his life, boots crashing down the walls he put up.

You managed to make the past year good enough, that Joel Miller—the man who didn’t have an ounce of faith in him—believed in the world giving him a second chance at normal life.

Well, as normal as it could be, with mutated fungus running around.

Despite a few conflicts at first, a whole ass argument that lasted for a week, about you and your age, about him denying your feelings because of fear—“You’re too young for me, sweetheart, you don’t know what you’re sayin’”—Joel Miller ended up letting himself have you and accepting the love he was receiving. Therapy was one of the key reasons he managed to open up to you about what he’s done and how he lost his daughter, the key to his bundled up heart.

It was also then that he told you about his birthday, and how awful he felt whenever the day came around. How he struggled with going outside, the fear of people noticing him stronger than the will to work and help keep Jackson upright.

And it was then that you started planning on how to make your older boyfriend (because yes, that’s what you were calling him on a daily basis just to tease him) finally happy. He deserved that, more than anyone else. After years of loss and surviving purely on relying on distance and turning off his emotions, Joel Miller deserved to feel genuinely loved, and not pressured into it.

For him, accepting his own feelings was like finally forgiving himself for the loss of Sarah and Tess, and the things he did for Ellie.

It was a step in the right direction, as the local therapist had said.

In the end, after all your hard work, with your preparations starting a month earlier, Joel’s birthday went smoother and better than you (and him) expected. No one forced him to come to the main hall to celebrate, no one intruded when he tried to go on a walk in peace.

No one was breaching his boundaries, trying to claw their way into his closed off heart.

His birthday dinner consisted mainly of you, your love, Ellie and her jokes, Tommy’s teasing and Maria’s genuine warmth.

You were the one who prepared most of the food, with Maria helping you bake a pie. It was also you who gave him the present he’d bitched to you about for a while—some new guitar strings and leather you managed to trade for at the market. Although Joel sat stiff and silent for the first half hour, he didn’t feel pressured into anything, not at all. After the bourbon kicked in, he gripped your hand right on the table, not ashamed to be seen loving you, and started telling stories, even joking around with his brother.

You’ve never seen Joel this happy beforehand, ever.

You were proud of yourself—rightfully so—as you were the one who suggested a quiet evening in, instead of going out.

After the rest left, you finished up the dishes, with Joel hovering over you and constantly bugging you about how ‘he’s the birthday guy, he should be the one cleaning after the guests’. You just kissed him on the cheek and ran a hand through his greying hair, asking him to go sit on the couch.

The night followed with him reading you a book out loud, voice rough and full of comfort, and pouring you a glass of whiskey, even though you swore you hated how it tasted everytime he brought it out.

“Just one sip, girl, I know you like it. Don’t think I don’t see ya stealing it from my cabinet when I’m away,” he teased, his drawl full of Texas warmth, as he filled up your glass.

One glass turned into three, and before you knew, Joel had you on his lap, his lips relentless against yours. Safe to say, the couch didn’t see this much action since before Joel arrived in Jackson. You were practically making out like teenagers—which was a good sign. He could finally go back to what he didn’t get to have in his teen years, too busy raising Sarah since he was 19.

You truly were his second chance.

“The best birthday I’ve had in 20 years, darlin’,” he muttered to you that night, as you cuddled up close to him, your ear pressed into his chest. His heartbeat was calm—deep and loud, but calm.

It immediately lulled you to sleep.

You were safe, happy, full of love.

You never feared sleep when you lay beside Joel Miller, his arms around you like a safety blanket.

Now, a year later, you were tasked with a challenge:

To make this September 26th even better than the last.

And boy, oh boy, was this a task.

You didn’t have any spots left which you could show to him. Every patrol, every romantic walk around Jackson, every date—he knew most of the paths in the woods. He had everything he needed, you, family, emergency cigarettes, his favourite type of whiskey, wood to carve from, tools, books, and even his favourite records.

So what else could you give him?

There were six hours left before the big day, and you had to pray that the new carving knife you traded for and helped Tommy sharpen was going to be enough. Technically Joel didn’t need a new one, but you figured he’d appreciate the gesture anyway.

“Your last night before the big day,” you teased, watching from the doorway as Joel put on his grey shirt, pyjama pants stretched out on his body. Despite being a mess, the whole day of work wearing him out, he still looked as beautiful as ever, with eyebags under his eyes, his hair messy and greying. “How does it feel, old man? Your back all crackin’ and breaking down already?”

“One more comment and I’ll put you over my knee, girl,” he huffed, looking at you in the mirror and grabbed his toothbrush. You pushed off the doorway and stepped closer, standing on your toes to give his cheek a kiss, before grabbing your own toothbrush. You loved these domestic nights, when you and Joel didn’t have to do anything, free to enjoy yourselves and focus on peace. Underneath all his grit and roughness, Joel Miller was nothing if not a big, romantic softie.

And that part was what you cherished in him the most.

It was secret, yours only. Only you got to see his tired smile, the vulnerable look in his eyes, wrinkles reminding both of you how long he spent in this world.

Both of you brushed your teeth together, Joel’s arm pressing you against his side. His eyes in the reflection were locked on yours, admiring you. He was sap, totally whipped for you, like you had him wrapped around your little finger.

“I hope you knew better than to get me anythin’,” he drawled after spitting water and toothpaste into the sink. “I already got everythin’ I need.”

You spat toothpaste back into the sink as well, wiping your mouth on the back of your hand, and pressed your lips into a thin line.

Shit.

“Uh..”

He turned to face you, arms crossed over his chest, t-shirt sleeves straining on his biceps, like the material was ready to burst any minute. God, they were big.

He was one hell of a man. A good one, at that.

“Sweetheart..”

“I know!” You groaned. “But you give me everything, everyday. How can I not give you a gift for your birthday?”

“I got you, baby, you’re my gift,” he hummed, grabbing your waist. He pulled you close and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “So, you gonna tell me what you have in store for me?”

My pussy, you wanted to say, jokingly of course, but bit your tongue. No filthy thoughts.

Not yet.

“Nuh, uh, Miller. That’s still a surprise.”

“Shame, you usually spoil these, along with the secrets,” Joel shrugged and ruffled your hair, just to move away after a few seconds and tilt his head. “C’mon, it’s late, hun. Gotta go to bed if we wanna wake up before noon.”

You just nodded and followed him out, flicking the switch off. He didn’t wait and just immediately crawled under the covers. You, of course, joined him, snuggling close to him underneath the duvet. Your head lay on his chest, his heartbeat strong, but steady.

“Not reading today, grandpa?” You giggled, noticing how he didn’t reach for the book on the nightstand, along with his adorable reading glasses leaning against the night lamp.

“What did I tell ya about those nicknames?” His sigh was exhasperated. “Not in the mood for readin’ tonight. Like you said, I might be gettin’ old after all.”

“Mm. See, I was right.”

“Yeah, yeah, trouble. Keep telling y’self that.”

He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, resting his palm at the small of your back through the fabric of your shirt (which, technically, was his shirt). His beard scratched your temple ever so slightly, warm breath fanning over the crown of your head. Joel hadn’t felt so much peace in days, only focusing on work and helping Tommy and Maria.

“Ready to wake up older with you next to me.” He pulled you in closer, arms tighter around you. His eyes fluttered shut, breath slowing down.

“Night, Joel.”

“G’night, hun.”

Joel wasn’t used to sweet dreams, not before you, not after Boston, not in Jackson. His house was full of demons, always haunting every part of his body, painful enough that he did everything he could to bury himself in work.

With you, he didn’t need it. He could finally try and heal, your presence grounding him and countering his mental scars.

This night, he didn’t have any dreams, for the first time ever since he met you. There wasn’t anything that woke him up in the middle of the night or made him squirm in bed, taunted by the dreams he had.

No. He slept quietly and peacefully, with you clinging to his side like a koala bear, his heartbeat steady.

And then, of course, because nothing ever lasted forever, sunlight spilled in through the windows, making Joel stir from his slumber. This man couldn’t sleep in even on his birthday, his habits rooted so deep down inside him, he couldn’t just ignore them. His eyes fluttered open and the first thing he noticed was you, snoring quietly (thank God you didn’t sound like a drill), your head still on his shoulder. Your plan was to wake up first thing in the morning, even before Joel, to prepare breakfast, but clearly it didn’t work out.

He watched you for a few more seconds before giving you a kiss on your head and slipping out of bed. There was no way he was falling back asleep.

So, he did what he did best when he woke up this early.

Got to work (meaning breakfast).

Joel truly didn’t know how gifts worked. He wasn’t used to just accepting something without giving a thing in return. Twenty years of apocalypse taught him to always trade and never trust generous gifts, especially from strangers. You weren’t a stranger though, neither was Tommy or Ellie, yet still he couldn’t just let y’all ‘spoil’ him. Sometimes he still felt like he didn’t deserve it. Didn’t deserve the care, the thoughts, the love.

But he tried to fix himself. Tried to fix how he looked at the world.

And maybe, with you, he really started to change for the better.

Breakfast didn’t take too long. He figured toast and eggs will be enough, with two cups of coffee for the both of you. While the eggs were frying on the pan, coffee still brewing, Joel’s eyes darted around the kitchen. He couldn’t find the pepper—he always left it next to salt, but this time it wasn’t there. He huffed under his breath, closing drawers and cupboards in search of the spice.

“There ya go.. who even puts pepper next to tomato sauce? Jesus Christ.. gotta tell her to stop movin’ shit ‘round here,” a grumble left his mouth and his head shook slightly.

Just as he was about to close the cupboard, a small bundle, wrapped in twine and hidden behind a jar of rice, caught his eye. It was small, so normally he wouldn’t even see it, but someone did a shit job with choosing the wrapping.

How the hell did someone find glitter wrapping paper in this time and age?

He knew he shouldn’t really touch stuff that wasn’t his, but something told him it was for him.

Then, it clicked.

Right, the gift you mentioned.

After finishing up with the eggs and eating his portion, he reached for the bundle, eyes narrowed. As he unwrapped it, his gaze fell upon a small, carving knife, sharper than the dull, shaky one he’s been using for the past month. His lips twitched, a smile forming on his face despite himself.

“Real original, honey,” he smirked to himself.

Your plan to give it to him after dinner? Busted.

The first sound you heard upon opening your eyes was a deep laugh, followed by steps thudding up the stairs. Your gaze flickered to the empty place beside you, a dent in the mattress suggesting Joel woke up not that long ago.

“Darlin’?” He called softly from the hall and pushed the door open with his hip, a tray in his hands and a small, barely wrapped bundle in the back pocket of his jeans.

Uh oh.

“Joel—?”

“Well, hell, good mornin’. Woke up just in time for breakfast.” He smirked, carefully setting the tray down on your nightstand. He sat down on the edge of the bed, watching you reach for the plate first, stomach growling. “How did my girl sleep?”

“Good,” you yawned, stretching your arms, “you didn’t kick me in the middle of the night, so, progress. What about you, grandpa?” Your eyes flicked to his while you stuffed your mouth full with the eggs.

“Mhm.” He shot you a look full of disappointment, but it wasn’t genuine. “Guess I slept okay, too. Might honestly need ya to move in, since you’re a cure to all my nightmares,” he drawled and flashed you a soft smile, dimples showing despite his age.

You just laughed, inhaling breakfast like you spent a month at a desert without any food. Joel’s cooking wasn’t as bad as Ellie always called it.

After you cleaned up the plate and walked to the bathroom to brush your teeth, Joel carried everything back to the kitchen, even doing the dishes while you were busy so you couldn’t argue about how ‘he should sit his ass down’.

When it was over, he met you back upstairs in the bedroom, eyes raking over your body as you pulled on his flannel. He sat down on the bed, watching you intensely.

“You know, I was supposed to be the one making you breakfast today,” you commented all of a sudden, breaking the silence.

“Too bad, you slept in,” he shrugged, then reached for the bundle in his pocket and took it out, flashing it before your eyes. “And by the way, y’need to work on your hiding skills, sweetheart.”

Your ears went red, cheeks hot. You physically felt your plans crash down, all because Joel Miller decided to snoop (he didn’t, it was you who fucked up with the hiding spot, but you still blamed him).

“I wanted to give it to you after dinner!”

“Uh-huh.”

“Not my fault you snoop so much, Miller. Ruining the surprise.” You crossed your arms against your chest, eyes narrowing, then softening after a short while. “..Do you like it, though?”

“The knife? Yeah. Yeah, honey, I do. Been needin’ a new knife ‘nyway,” Joel’s smirk softened back into a gentle smile, his hand putting the knife back onto the nightstand.

Your shoulders sagged, a pout appearing on your face.

“Y’know.. since you didn’t let me surprise you with the knife…” You started, eyes slowly trailing up his body, “…let me do it with something different.” A purr left your lips and with that, you moved closer and sank to your knees in front of Joel. He didn’t even have time to protest, before you spread his knees apart, fitting right between them. You unbuckled his belt with one hand, the other already teasing the zipper.

“Darlin’.. wait, slow down—“ his surprised grunt echoed off the walls, his hand coming to grab your hair, trying to stop you. “Jesus Christ, girl—“ He sucked in a sharp breath, feeling your fingertips brush against his boxers, fly already unzipped. He could feel himself get hard at your touch and scoffed, disappointed with himself at how easily you got him to take off his jeans.

“It’s your birthday. Lemme make you feel good, Joel,” you licked your lips and looked him straight the in the eyes, cocky and proud of yourself for making him feel so twitchy—a rare sight when it came to Miller. He wasn’t even capable of holding eye contact in that moment.

“Y’know you don’t gotta do it, baby.” Once again, he found himself trying to convince you of how much he didn’t need your mouth on his cock, despite already being half-hard, his voice tinged with heat. His breathing was irregular, heart rate quickened, plus, the way he looked at you showed how he truly felt about the idea.

You didn’t respond to his plea with words, pulling him out of his boxers instead, hand wrapping around his length. Massaging him slightly, thumb brushing the tip, you made sure to make Joel completely hard, aching and waiting for you to finally take him in your mouth. One of your palms came up to grip his thigh, the second slid up and down his dick, causing him to groan, hips jerking up ever so slightly. He was a strong man when it came to danger, clickers and such, but, fuck, you were enough to make him go weak in the knees, his resolve faltering.

“Just.. fuckin’ put it in your mouth, would ya?” Joel hissed and tightened the grip on your hair. “Slowly, don’t choke on it,” he guided, and your breath fanning over the tip was enough for him to curse under his breath. It wasn’t often that you sucked Joel off, him preferring to eat you out instead. He knew he was big and didn’t want you hurting yourself, even if you assured him you’d be alright.

When your lips finally wrapped around his blunt head, his dick twitched, sending shivers down his spine. He had to grab onto the mattress with his other hand, fingers digging into the material. You moved your head down, now taking almost all of him in, his tip hitting the back of your throat.

“Fuck,” his eyes fluttered shut, chest raising and falling rapidly. “Keep doing that, sweetheart,” he rasped while you started bobbing your head. Your tongue traced the tip slowly, savouring both the soft, faint taste of his pre-cum, as well as the way Joel’s dick was twitching in your mouth. Then, you moved your lips deeper down his cock, hollowing your cheeks as you sucked softly, humming around him just to feel his hips jerk against you due to the vibration. Slick coated his skin. Every stroke of your mouth was messier, bringing a different sound out of him—curses, your name or just moans.

“Girl—“ he hissed, grip tightening even more on your hair, before pushing himself deeper in your throat, causing you to gag. He immediately sobered up from the pleasurable haze upon hearing you choke, pulling your head up just slightly. “Sorry, baby.”

You just smiled up at him, tears prickling in the corner of your eyes. His dick, once again, hit the back of your throat, this time not causing you to gag this much, and Joel couldn’t stop himself from letting out a strangled groan, head falling back.

“God—Goddamn.. so deep, baby girl.” His palm slid to the back of your neck, pushing and pulling on it slightly to control your pace. Although your cheeks were starting to hurt, you kept going, one hand massaging the rest of him that you didn’t manage to take in.

“That—that’s enough.” Joel’s shaky growl was sudden, followed by a push against your shoulders. He tugged you off with a wet pop, drool dripping down your chin, your spit coating his dick, mixed with pre-cum. “Get up here.” He yanked you up by your hair, hands flying to pull down your pants. With shaky fingers he undid the button and slid down the zipper, pulling the jeans down with a sharp tug, earning a gasp from you.

“Joel—!”

“Wanna finish inside ya, not on your tongue.” His drawl was breathless, stern enough to stop you from arguing. “Breed ya ‘til it’s dripping down your legs. You get me, sugar?”

You nodded and crawled onto the bed, panties hanging off your ankle. Joel’s palms supported your hips as you straddled his lap, your aching pussy brushing against his dampened length. In the meanwhile, you took of your shirt, tits out on display for Joel to see. He didn’t hesitate, grabbing them into his big, rough hands and massaging them gently.

“So no condom?” Your lips curled into a smirk. That didn’t happen often with Joel—he always made sure you were safe. He was clean, of course, just like you, but whenever he could, he’d rather use a condom not to risk anything.

Joel scoffed, “No need for it if I wanna breed ya, no?” He shifted on the mattress to fully slip his boxers down, throwing them to the corner of the room, hands off your boobs. You didn’t wait for his guidance and orders, just slowly sank down onto him when he lined up perfectly, walls stretching around the head. Joel’s breath caught in his chest and a choked gasp escaped his lips when you stilled after taking him all, trying to adjust to the feeling of him inside you.

He was bigger than you remembered. More curved upwards than before, as well.

“Move,” a hiss fell upon your ears. Your eyes fluttered shut when you finally started, setting a slow, steady pace with your hips. Joel’s eyes dragged over you, from the way your chest heaved to the way your mouth parted when he throbbed deep inside.

You were mostly in control, with Joel not doing anything, just letting you take what you needed (it was him who needed it more than you). Every drop of your hips, every whimper coming from your mouth drove him deeper into pleasure, his groans getting louder, matching the pace of your movements. He wasn’t as loud as you, but he sure as hell couldn’t keep quiet when it came to having you ride him.

“Ya take me so fuckin’ good, sweetheart.” His gaze was half-lidded, eyes dark, mouth slightly parted, as he focused on watching your pussy move up and down his cock.

Your gasp turned into a moan when you felt him suddenly jerk his hips up, fucking into you, “Joel!”

He didn’t look guilty—no, in fact, he looked as if he was lost in the haze of what you were doing to him. His palms were cradling your hips, still not moving you, just slightly helping you keep your composure, like he was testing how long he could let you bathe in the bliss of having control over him—or, at least, some sense of it.

“Fuckfuck, shit,” you panted, grinding down to take him even deeper, his slightly curved cock hitting you in places you haven’t felt before. “Happy—” you gasped, “—Birthday, baby.”

He let out a sharp breath through his nose, his eyelids fluttering shut just for a second. Fuck, your voice, so breathy, was enough to make him dizzy. He often got off on hearing your sounds, never prompting you to stay quiet. Hell, he fucking hated when you stopped whimpering.

Joel Miller was the type of a man who never kept quiet in the bedroom. Whether it was his grunts, dirty talk or your moans, sex with him was loud. With the amount of times he hit the best spots deep inside you, knowing what makes you feel good, there was no way you’d stay silent—he was just too good, too skilled.

Not that you were complaining, of course.

Your nails dug into his chest, ripping the shirt off his body, when he shifted his hips upward, hitting another spot that made your vision blur, tears falling down your cheeks. You started grinding faster, chasing the high, the knot in your belly tightening with every thrust of his hips into you. Joel’s grip on your waist tightened, and his fingers dug into your skin, creating marks on it.

“You like watching me ride you, huh?” you managed, breathless, sweat building on your forehead, hair strands sticking to skin. “Like watchin’ me take you?”

His jaw clenched and his arm suddenly snuck around your back, pushing you tight against his torso, his belly warm against yours. His lips brushed your ear, “No, baby, I like watchin’ you think you’re in charge.”

Before you could protest, even mutter one word in response, your world flipped. The bed creaked as Joel rolled you onto your back in one effortless motion, pressing you down into the sheets. His lips sucked on the skin of your neck, bruises left like evidence of his hunger.

“Joel—”

“Shut up.” Joel’s voice was rough, final, with a hint of playful annoyance in it, his palm landing on your thigh. He raised your legs and wrapped them around his waist, offering better access to the deepest spots inside of you. “You had your fun. That’s over now, darlin’.” What he said wasn’t cruel, but thick with want—as if he was warning and promising you all at once.

Your chest was heaving underneath him, while he lined his cock against your wet cunt, dragging the blunt tip through your folds. One of his hands gripped your hips, while the other snuck up to your neck, squeezing it ever so slightly in just the right places—not enough to cut off air in a dangerous way, but enough to sharpen the stimulation. You could feel the strength in him everywhere, in the stretch of his arms holding you down, in the iron press of his hips as he suddenly shoved back into you in one slow, excruciating thrust.

The sound that tore out of you was half gasp, half moan.

Oh, how he loved those fuckin’ sounds.

“Yeah,” Joel rasped, mouth now hovering by your jaw, his beard scratching the skin, sure to leave slight burn marks. His breath was uneven, ready to break into a groan with every snap of his hips. “That’s what I fuckin’ wanted.”

With that, he pulled out almost to the tip, then drove back in, hard enough that your body jerked against the mattress. His hand moved from your hip to one of your thighs, hitching it higher against his waist, allowing him to dive deeper and hit one of your most sensitive spots. That caused you to whimper, his name ever so sweet on your tongue, mixed with broken curses and breathless moans. His calloused fingers traced over the delicate skin of your neck, stopping at a pulse point, your heartbeat fast under his touch.

“Fuckin’ Christ, girl—look at you. Younger than some of my scars, yet you still let an old man like me make you cry on his cock,” he hissed against your skin, pounding into you with raw hunger. The angle made your cries louder, tears sliding down your cheeks. Your hands tangled in Joel’s damp hair, curls falling down his forehead, bouncing off the skin with every thrust. For his age, his stamina was fucking nuclear. Sure, he often had to slow down just a bit to regain the strength, but he never faltered enough for you to lose the pleasure.

“Joel—! Please—”

His hand tightened around your thigh, forcing you open.

“Please what? You wanted this, baby,” he reminded. His trusts came steady, deep and unrelenting, dragging moans from your throat no matter how hard you tried to hold them back, biting down on your lip until it hurt. He pressed a hand over your belly just for a moment, feeling himself move back and forth inside you. “My cock’s stretching ya just right, darlin’. You were made for me.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, overwhelmed by it all.

“No,” Joel snapped, his free hand sliding up your neck to your chin, grabbing it tightly and forcing your gaze up to meet his. His eyes were dark, full of intensity which he poured into every move. “Look at me while I’m inside you.”

You obeyed, your lips parted as you stared up at him, the corners of your eyes wet from tears. His thumb dragged across your bottom lip, pressing, as if he wanted to slip it inside.

“That’s it, good girl.” His voice dipped into something dangerous. “Mine. Every fuckin’ bit of you. Only for me.”

His pace shifted, faster now, rougher, and the bed frame creaked beneath the force of it, the headboard thudding against the wall with a rhythm so obvious that every neighbour of yours definitely knew what was going on. His mouth dropped to your throat, kissing, biting, leaving marks like he wanted the entire Jackson to know you were his. Your hands flew to his back, nails digging into his sweat-slick skin.

“God, Joel—” you choked out, your walls tightening around him. He groaned deep at that, hips stuttering for half a second at the way you clenched around his dick.

“So fuckin’ tight, baby,” Joel rasped, voice muffled. “You wanna come, hm, sweetheart?”

You nodded, knot tightening low inside you. Your palm settled against his chest, wandering over all the scars and the rough chest hair he had. His response was a low growl.

“Say it, then.”

“i’m—yours—I’m gonna—” you panted.

Joel growled once again, biting down on your shoulder and making you yelp as his thrusts turned punishing, almost brutal, the slap of skin on skin echoing in the bedroom. The coil inside you finally snapped, white-hot pleasure exploding through your body, throbbing in your veins. You cried out his name, arching against him, thighs digging into his waist, eyes snapping shut.

“Joel!”

“There you go, cumming all over my cock.. atta girl,” he drawled.

He didn’t slow—not yet. He fucked you through the high, hearing your moans turn into downright sobs, tears wetting the pillow underneath your head. He dragged every last ripple of your orgasm out of you, adding to the haze, until you were shaking beneath him, your pussy throbbing. Only then did he let himself go, hips jerking, his rhythm faltering. He ground deep as he spilled inside you with a guttural groan, still thrusting into you.

“Fuckin’ hell— take it,” he rasped, face buried in your neck, teeth clenched. He held you tight, making sure all of his cum stayed inside, the idea of breeding you strong in his mind. “Look at you, my pretty girl. You did so well.”

He nuzzled his nose into your skin, inhaling the sweet, intoxicating scent as he tried to catch his breath.

It took the both of you a while to come down from the high, but when it was finally over after a few minutes, he stayed there. He didn’t pull out or lift himself away. He just propped himself on his elbows and glanced down at you, taking you in. Your skin was glistening with sweat, your face red, lips bruised from all the intense kissing, neck and collarbone full of bruises and teeth marks where he gently bit at you. His thumb brushed your cheek where a tear slid down.

“You..” he breathed out, almost to himself. “..drive me fuckin’ crazy.”

You laughed weakly, eyes barely open. “Could say the same thing about you, Miller.”

Joel leaned down and kissed you. This time, though, it wasn’t as rough. His beard scratched your skin, lips moving gently against yours.

”That definitely outdid the knife,” he admitted, planting soft kisses all over your jaw.

“So I’m a genius after all. Told you, Miller. I can keep a secret,” you chuckled, then your smile softened after a few moments passed. “Thank you, baby.”

“No, thank you for the best birthday in my whole life, sweetheart,” he sighed deeply, content. Then, a small smirk appeared on his face when he pulled away to glance at your face. He hummed quietly, a hand moving down to your stomach. “Especially if that takes.”

Your breath caught, eyes snapping up. “You’re.. serious?”

Joel laughed, warm, and pressed a kiss to your face. “Sugar, seeing you pregnant with my kid would make me the happiest man in this goddamn world.”

[cowboylik3miller]

GUILTY PLEASURE

Javier Peña x you [f.reader] — smut

[MINORS DNI!] 18+

Summary

With Pablo going off the grid and the whole Los Pepes shit happening, especially the secret alliance, Javier Peña is more tense than ever. He doesn’t need another thing to add to his annoyance—but there you are, a fresh intern tasked with faxing and cleaning up files.

Despite the two of you agreeing to fuck and forget, Javier cannot stop thinking about you underneath him. He also cannot stop his jealousy from spiking up whenever he sees you close with Steve Murphy, his own partner.

So when he gets you alone this time?

He makes sure you’ll never forget how good it felt when he was in you.

Warnings

TW // age gap [unspecified, less than 10 years], detailed sex, dom!javier, sub!reader, fingering, slightly hinted breeding kink, creampie, reader's on the pill, no condom on, cigarettes, mentions of infidelity, jealousy & possessiveness, set during s2 of narcos, swearing, past hookup mentioned, hookup culture mentioned, sti mention, dirty talk, spanish nicknames, oral [f.receiving], mention of a blowjob, a bit of an argument, position change, voyeurism & exhibitionism mentioned, cum mentions, small mentions of drugs and violence

WORD COUNT

around 4,8k words ─ .✦

Note

english is NOT my native language so forgive my ass for any mistakes<3 ive never posted on tumblr before as well. if any of the tags r wrong, im sorry<3 will i someday add a deluxe version to this? maybe. for now - i hope u enjoy reading and tell me if u liked it!! ~ maryllow <33 kissesss!! (yes i absolutely listened to man's best friend by brina when writing this) songs i recommend for reading; government hooker - lady gaga // so it goes - taylor swift // knee socks - arctic monkeys

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Javier Peña never thought he’d ever get jealous over a girl he was only supposed to fuck once and forget.

Especially someone who was his fucking assistant, an intern, only here to clean up his fucking mess. Files, clauses, reports, faxing all of it.

But it happened, surprisingly so.

It all started with Los Pepes having Peña constantly on edge for how he ended up treating them.

A month in of the assistant working under him and Steve, Javier snapped, his emotional barriers exploding. Pressure and stress piling up from dealing with Los Pepes, Pablo going more and more off radar, were enough for Peña to be done. One shot of whiskey tipped him over the edge of morals, and so he told the younger assistant to stay after hours, the office empty beside the two of them. He knew her type—naive, always eager to work during the first month, then deciding to either flee back to America or start slacking, before the higher-ups eventually fired them.

He was right, anyway. The office cleared out, everyone pent up and tired from the intense hours of tracking illegal activities.

And there she was. Watching her coworkers walk out the room, leaving only her and Javi inside.

At first, he felt a little bad for her. She probably wanted to hit the bar, drink some cocktails and chill back at her safe house, and there he was, caging her in his fucked up orbit, forcing her to follow the flow of his life.

God. What stress and the need to fuck did to a man.

So they worked. And worked. And worked again, until most of the files were segregated and they both didn’t know what else to do. Javier, on his part, settled for writing useless bullshit on the typewriter to keep himself in check, hands itching to touch delicate skin instead of buttons.

All in all, his boots hit the pavement at 3am, the clink of kitten heels right behind him as he walked out.

He was no gentleman, but he did end up dropping her off safely, which was expected of him, given that he was the one to suggest she stayed after hours.

And if Javier so happened to end up actually railing her on his own desk in the office, typewriter pushed aside, Marlboros scattered on the floor, with her panties in the back pocket of his jeans?

Well. That was between him and God, which he wasn’t sure even existed.

He did keep a rosary in the drawer after all, so maybe some desperate, hopeful part of him really believed there was something more powerful in the world than fucked up political schemes.

As if the rosary was supposed to clean him from all the shit he’s done, including his ‘informant’ hookups, and wash the blood off his hands.

Well. At least using sex as a distraction seemed to work so far.

And the blowjob he got under the desk from you, the next day?

Legendary. ── ⟢

It’s been two weeks.

Two hard weeks of him feeling his past decisions creep back to him, haunting his dreams, poisoning the smoke of his cigarettes, and living like ghosts between the walls of his apartment. The stress pileup only continued to grow, his bin full of scrapped notes and packs of cigarettes. The hunt after Escobar only seemed to slow down with every next day, even with the info provided by CI’s. Everyone in the office was tense lately, including Steve, yet Peña still seemed to be doing the worst.

His hands kept twitching, his aim was shit, Marlboros kept disappearing with every hour, and he couldn’t sit still, leg bouncing all the time.

“You got an STI or what, Javi?” Steve chuckled.

Not the time for humour, Murphy.

“Come mierda,” Javier scoffed at him, stubbing out his cigarette in the ash-tray. His hands didn’t know what to do—whether to focus on the files or go through the very single new info again, while waiting for updates.

It felt like a drought, and he was thirsty. Not for water, not for money. For blood.

As he reached for another Marlboro twenty minutes later, classified files sitting open on his desk, the assistant unhurriedly strutted into the room. The assistant being you, of course.

It’s been a month and a half, and despite the job not being exactly what you expected, you fit in just right. Working under pressure was certainly stressful and made you relapse into smoking, which was a norm at the DEA, but it also made your work life exciting in a way.

Sure, sorting files and faxing most of them wasn’t technically anything big, but at least you weren’t bored out of your ass in a life-sucking cubicle somewhere in America.

Plus, you didn’t exactly mind the nightlife in Columbia.

“Here are the files you wanted,” you hummed, dropping the classified files on Steve’s desk, right beside his typewriter. “Chronological order, top to bottom.”

“Thanks, sweetheart, you’re a saint,” the blond drawled, his eyes flicking to you for a split second. “Jesus, you get any sleep lately?”

“Eh, you know how it is. Could ask you the same thing, though. You look like you need caffeine more than me.”

“And whiskey.” He shook his head and flipped through the first folder from the pile. “You’ve got no idea.”

You leaned against the desk, avoiding Javier’s annoyed gaze. His eyes were trailing down your body, assessing your posture, as if he was trying to read your mind, or, probably, strip you naked with his eyes. Whatever the definition of eye-fucking was, this was it.

All you did was scoff, turning your back.

Asshole.

“So, still nothing?” You prompted, tilting your head as you looked over Steve’s arm. You weren’t supposed to read through the files, but you knew they wouldn’t be mad at a small peek.

Although if looks could kill, Javier would have you drop dead right this moment.

“Nope. We’re sitting ducks,” a sigh left Steve's mouth, dusty gold waves falling over his eyes.

“Jeez, I swear, it feels like this motherfucker keeps finding loopholes we’re not aware of. This is the fifth day I’ve seen you so depressed.”

“That’s Escobar and this work for you,” Steve only gave you a grimace. His hand rubbed his scruffy jaw, a wedding band shining on his ring finger. You stood up and clapped on his shoulder, squeezing it slightly.

“Let me know when you’re free, Murphy, we’ll go have a drink. You need it,” was all you said before going back to your duties.

You thought that would be all.

But, well, nothing is ever that easy, is it?

The truth was, Javier Peña spent all his day thinking not only about the whole shit happening in Colombia, but also about you.

He told himself, after the night he made you come twice while bent over his desk, that he’d never think of you like that again.

But there he was, two weeks later, not being able to get you out of his mind. He was fixated on the memory of your moans, the way you arched your back for him, gasps like a song made just for him.

So… how could he just let you go?

He waited.

The son of a bitch actually waited. He usually left first, eager to soak his dick into any hooker that let him get close, eager to drown his sorrows in alcohol—classic Javier Peña.

But today? No. He waited until you stepped out the front door, bag slung over your shoulder, ready to go back to your safe house. Luck had you live in the same building as Javier, which created a great opportunity for him to get you alone.

“Oy, chiquita,” he called after you, voice tense despite the teasing. “C’mon, I’ll give you a ride. Don’t want you catching a taxi this late, especially alone.”

His voice stopped you dead in your tracks. Javier? Offering you a ride out of the blue? That wasn’t like him.

“Since when are you such a gentleman for the girls you fucked?” You raised a brow, eyeing him curiously. This wasn’t the Javier you knew. “I’m a changed man, what can I say,” he just shrugged, leading you to his Jeep. You were too tired to argue, so you hopped in and reached for the seatbelt. Javi, of course, lit another Marlboro, making you scrunch your nose at the smoke.

“Thought you like the smell, cariño,” he glanced your way, starting the car. “You smoke so much.” “I’m trying to quit, thanks.” “Hm, doesn’t seem to be working. Old habits die hard, huh?”

God. Could he just shut the fuck up?

Peña didn’t talk much the rest of the ride, thankfully. He was focused on the road, fingers clutching the wheel too tightly for it to be casual. He clearly wasn’t himself when nerves took over.

“So.. you like going after married men now?” He finally spoke up, jaw clenched, as he parked the Jeep on the sidewalk. “Excuse me?”

“You looked pretty cozy with Steve today, but hey, I’m not judging.” It took you a second to realise that he actually said those words and that it wasn’t your imagination.

Wow. What a dick.

You knew you couldn’t give him the satisfaction—son of a bitch really enjoyed getting people confused—so you bolted, slamming the Jeep door as you jumped out, bag under your arm. What a fucking nightmare. You should’ve expected this, it was Peña, after all. All you wanted now was to storm up to your lame excuse of an apartment and ignore that this conversation ever happened. Who did he think he was, accusing you of hitting on Steve? The idea of being a homewrecker was disgusting to you, you could never do that to another woman. It felt like you were the only sane person there who had actual fucking morals, as opposed to half the DEA and especially Javier Peña. “Running from the truth now, muñeca?” He teased, catching up to you after exiting his car. He seemed pissed, but you had no idea why. Not yet, anyway. You were guessing it was the headache of being stuck after years of constant progress, even if small.

Still. It wasn’t an excuse for how he was treating you right now. You whipped your head back, brows furrowing. “Truth? I wasn’t flirting, you—”

“No? You asked him out,” he scoffed, cutting you off. “Sat on his desk and batted your pretty eyelashes at him, making some half-assed small talk. You trying to get into his pants?” “What?” You stood there, stunned. “I literally just offered him to go out for a drink. As coworkers, Peña. Not that you’d understand, after all I was just a coworker to you too, right? When you fucked me?”

Now, let’s get one thing straight. Sure, Steve was attractive, but you weren’t a homewrecker. More importantly, you were too engrossed in your job to look for a hookup, especially with a coworker. What happened between you and Javier didn’t count, though. It was one night only.. and a blowjob the next morning. It was clearly a mistake.

“Jesus Christ,” his jaw clenched, fingers rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Don’t you compare what we had to—” He bristled at how desperate he sounded. “He’s not right for you. He wouldn’t know how to treat you, anyway.” “I already told you! We’re not even—” You protested, your voice breaking on the last syllabe. Just then, it hit you, what all this was, why Javier was so pissed. “Wait, Javi, are you jealous?”

That earned you silence. His eyes snapped back up to yours, lips parting in a silent huff. “Damn fucking right I am jealous,” he spat, moving towards you until your back hit the wall of the building. He caged you in with his arm, towering over you. He smelled mostly like cigarettes, but you could sense the faint scent of whiskey underneath. “Hijueputa, I can’t stand seeing you with anyone else.” Your breath caught, eyes now looking up into his, fingers trailing up his shirt. They rested on his collar, gently clutching the material. “Carajo.. I know we were supposed to fuck and forget,” His voice shook as he raked a hand through his hair. “But I can’t. I tried other girls, believe me, but they’re not you. They don’t—fuck, don’t have your eyes, don’t say my name in the way you did when you came.” His breathing grew ragged, eyes darting to your lips. “Javi, you don’t do feelings,” you laughed, but there was no warmth in it. “Not with them.” He countered, his hand dropping to cup your jaw. “But you, bonita, you’re something else entirely. I can’t stay away. I need you to know that what we had.. that night, I still think about it. I need you more than air, even if I don't act like it.”

Your breath hitched, pulse kicking up.

“I can’t lose you,” he rasped. “I can’t lose you to my stubbornness. When I saw you with him—Shit, I thought you moved on.“ “From you?” “From what happened between us, despite swearing we’ll forget. Despite believing that it’s just one night.” His voice dropped to a whisper, thumb caressing your cheekbone. You grabbed his hand and pulled it away, gaze flickering down. “Listen, Javi—“ you started, but before you could finish, Javier’s lips crashed into yours. You let out a startled gasp, fingers crawling up his neck. He kissed you with fervour and gentleness you didn’t feel two weeks ago, when he laid you out on his desk.

His hands cupped your cheeks, lips devouring yours. You could practically taste the passion on his tongue as it slipped into your mouth, making you hum. Your fingers pulled on his hair, a grunt coming from him in response. “Coño..” Peña groaned and pulled away slightly, having to take a breath. “C’mon, my place is on the ground floor.”

He grabbed your hand and opened the door, letting you into the building. He fiddled with the keys for a second, before finally unlocking his apartment and pushing you inside.

You didn’t even finish taking off your boots before he slammed you against the wall, hands grabbing your ass and hauling you up, prompting you to wrap your legs around his waist. Javier kissed like a man starved—tongue hot against yours, teeth bruising your lips, hands roaming everywhere on your body, like he couldn’t focus on what to touch first. He ground against you, the hard line of his cock straining through his jeans. “Feel that, cariño?” He muttered, voice like gravel. “That’s what you do to me.” You desperately rutted against him, chasing any stimulation it might give you. Your fingers tangled in his dark curls, your moans seeping into the kiss, as one of his hands slipped beneath your shirt. He unclasped your bra easily, before cupping your tit, thumb brushing over your nipple.

“Shit,” you panted into his mouth.

Just then, his hand moved lower, sinking behind the waistband of your pants. His fingers dipped into your panties, your eyes fluttering shut as he brushed over your clit with his thumb.

“Already this wet for me, mami?” He prompted, mouth back to devouring your lips after a few seconds. Without any warning, he pushed his middle and ring finger in, earning a whine from you. The back of your head hit the wall, Javi’s lips moving to your throat, sucking and bruising the skin with his teeth.

He was relentless in his actions, fingers thrusting in slowly, drawing the sensations out. Before you even knew it, you were bucking against his hand, chasing the high, as Peña ripped the buttons of your shirt and pulled it down your arms with the other hand. He sucked down on your collarbone, listening to the quiet whimpers escaping your mouth.

“Javi, please,” you let out a sigh, nails raking through his curls. You tugged on them, trying to get Javier to pump faster.

Of course, with him it wasn’t that easy.

He pulled out his fingers and straightened up, his eyes set on your pupils. He slowly pulled his hand up to his lips and sucked down on his own fingers, tasting you.

You almost choked on a gasp, breathing rapidly from the climax you didn’t manage to reach. His forehead rested against yours. His eyes were dark, focused only on you.

For a while, there was only silence, your heart thudding faintly in your eardrums.

The moment only lasted for half a second, sadly. In the blink of an eye, his palms moved to your back, supporting it as he carried you to the couch. He shoved you against the cushions, immediately dropping to his knees and spreading your thighs.

“Lift your hips for me, por favor,” Javier coaxed, reaching for the waistband of your pants. Through the haze of it all, the kisses, the hunger, the heat between you two, you nodded frantically, lifting your hips enough for Javi to slide them down your legs, along with your panties. He threw them behind the couch, his head dropping down to slowly kiss his way up. “You deserve to be treated well, hermosa. Let me.” His eyes were locked on yours, lips moving up to your inner thigh, the other leg put on his shoulder. His mouth stalked dangerously close to your dampened pussy, his breath catching on your clit ever so slightly.

“Can you just—” you groaned, head falling back against the cushion. “—fuck me, Peña?”

He raised a brow, assessing what you just said. Instead of muttering back a word, his head dipped more, lips closing down on your pussy.

“Fuck—!” Pleasure shot clean through your body, making you arch. Javier gently pressed down on your stomach, keeping you in place.

“Cálmate,” he growled, the voice vibrating against your clit. His tongue swirled around the bud, two fingers sneaking their way back into you. Your eyes instantly watered, hand drifting down to grab his hair and hold onto it for dear life. He was switching up his style—one minute he was licking through your folds, deep, long strokes driving you crazy, the next he was sucking your clit, fingers continuing to pump into you. The intensity had you buckling your hips against his face, his nose pressing into your swollen bud as he licked you thoroughly.

Javier didn’t stop even for a second, even to catch a breath, lapping into your cunt fervorously.

“Fuck..“

He heard you sigh and a smirk appeared on his face.

The scrape of his mustache had you squriming, the filthy sight of his mouth buried between your thighs, tongue fucking into you, groaning against your pussy, had you dizzy. He wasn’t just giving it all straight to you—he was keeping you on edge, fingers curling against your G-spot, nose pressing hard into your clit as he sucked on your labia.

“Fuckfuckfuck,” you panted. Seconds later, you finally broke, the pressure of his nose on your clit being too much, his name bouncing off the walls, your thighs pressing hard on his head. “Javi—!”

It was messy—your moans filling up the silence, Javier continuing his assault on your sweet spot. You had to push his head away forcefully for him to finally stop, eyes drifting up to your face.

“Tan bonita,” he hummed, wiping his lips on the back of his hand, and stood up. His palms immediately moved to his belt and unbuckled it, zipper pulled down. He wasn’t wasting time, his cock hard enough to hurt. When he pulled his pants down, a soft gasp left your mouth. Sure, you’ve seen him before, had him in you before, but the sight was as shocking as it was the first time.

His cock sprung free against his stomach, pre-cum already leaking out of the pinkish tip. 7 inches, around 5 in girth.

Fuck. Thank God you knew it would fit. If not, he stated it once, before—“I’ll make it fit, sweetheart”.

Peña crawled over on top of you, shirt gone in under half a second. He followed with leaning down and twirling his tongue over your nipple, making you shiver.

“Sensitive,” he hummed, peppering kisses all over your collarbone, before pulling away just enough to haul your legs over his shoulders. He dragged the blunt head of his cock through your folds, covering it in your slick. You whimpered underneath him and slid your hands to his shoulders, grabbing onto them as he lined himself up. Javier gripped your hips tight, your knees almost pressed to your chest. Your breath was shaky, eyelids fluttering from the anticipation.

“You’re on the pill, right?”

You nodded, tried to grind up into him, impatient with his teasing and the question.

Javier wasn’t having that—his palms pinned you down to the couch and kept you in place.

“Lo siento, mi cielo,” he smirked. “but you’re not the one in control here.”

Then, finally, Peña leaned in for a kiss right as he pushed his tip in you, not going any further yet. His lips worked relentlessly, the taste of you mixing with your saliva.

“Not even fully in, yet you’re already feeling so good around me,” he rasped against your lips and finally thrust forward, burying himself to the hilt. The stretch brought tears to your eyes almost instantly, lips parting in a silent gasp. Your nails clawed down his shoulder, causing Javier to groan, forehead pressed into yours.

“Mierda, I missed this.”

“Javier, move,” you hissed. “Or I swear to God, I’ll fucking—” Your plea got cut off by him pulling out to the very tip and slamming back into you, now not stopping at all.

His thrusts were deep and rough, fast enough for the couch to creak. Every snap of his hips, every move, punched the air out of you, every grind of his pelvis dragged your clit just right, adding to the stimulation.

“Fuck, fuck,” you shuddered, nails scratching down his back. “Fuck, you’re so— Jesus Christ, Peña.” You gritted your teeth, watching as Javier’s curls bounced off his forehead with every thrust. His mouth moved to your neck, groaning against it, while also sucking bruises into the skin, as if he wanted to mark you his.

“No Jesus, just me, but I appreciate it.” A breathless laugh came from Javi while he showered your skin with kisses, nose and his moustache brushing your jaw. “Eres mía.. sóló mía,” he groaned, his voice vibrating against the bruised skin on your neck. “You’re taking me so well, preciosa.”

The nicknames made your head spin. He was intoxicating, like a drug you could get addicted to. You already knew—you could never quit him, he had you twisted in his net, almost like he was a predator, and you were the prey.

One of his palms moved to your belly, slightly pressing down on the firm skin, earning a high-pitched whimper out of you.

That was the biggest ego boost for him—your moans.

“So good, tan rico, chiquita,” Javi grunted. His living room was filled with the sound of skin on skin, your moans colliding with his grunts. “No one else makes you scream like I do.” He slammed deeper, making you cry out.

“Javier!”

You were gasping for air, crying into his shoulder as he fucked you harder, faster, overall rougher. He caught your wrists and pinned them to the cushion above your head with one hand, his cock grinding down deep inside you enough to make your vision spark.

“Say my name, again.” His voice is low and sharp. “Say who’s gonna ruin you for anybody else.”

“You—” your voice cracked on a gasp. “You, Javi!”

“Bien.” He smirked, his grin sharp, and rewarded you with a brutal snap of his hips, forcing a scream from your throat. “He would never make you feel like this, bonita, solo yo.”

His movements continued for a few more seconds, before slowing down, grinding deep, his cock pulsing inside you. His teeth scraped your jaw, peppering it with kisses, and then he pulled out of you with a hiss.

“Javi..?”

“Need you on your knees for me, right now.”

His palms hauled you up and flipped you over, then dragged you on your knees, face pressing down into the cushion with your ass in the air. His palm pressed gently between your shoulder blades, arching your back until you were spread wide enough for him.

“Arch your back for me—yeah, así.. there you go, cariño,” Javier praised and lined up behind you, palms now settling on your hips. He then slammed back into you in one deep thrust, which made you cry out.

The angle he took you in was devastating compared to what it felt like before. He was even deeper, rougher, pounding into you with a rhytm that left you gasping, tears running down your face and wetting the material underneath your cheek. His hands dragged you back to meet every thrust, the sounds so obsecene they added to the stimulation.

“Shit, baby, qué rico te sientes.”

He yanked your hair and twirled it over his fist, pulling you up and making you arch for him. His lips plant kisses behind your ear, soft and quiet groans spilling from him.

Spanish curses spilled from him, voice breaking as he pounded you harder. “Carajo—coño, así, así.. no one else gets to see you like this, so fucked out under me.”

His hand moved to your neck, squeezing it just enough for your eyes to roll back, but not enough to hurt you. He knew your boundaries and made sure not to cross them.

After all, Javier wasn’t a complete asshole.

“Need you,” you panted softly, voice tired and low. “Almost—almost there, Javier,” you stuttered, moans falling freely from your mouth. At that, Javier’s other hand moved from your hip to your clit, rubbing it in sync with his thrusts.

“Just like that, baby, come on my cock.”

The double stimulation ripped you apart, bringing you to the anticipated climax. You shattered around him, walls squeezing him tight, your voice breaking as you moaned his name. You choked on your tears, moans still flowing from your lips.

“Puta madre,” he hissed, fucking you through the high. “Yeah, there you go.. perfecto.”

While you were slowly getting down from your high, Javier’s thrusts grew sloppy, desperate. You could feel him chase the climax, his teeth gritting, palms stabilizing your hips against his pelvis, until he slammed deep one last time, spilling inside you. His groans were loud enough to echo, wet curls framing his face as his head fell back. Heat flooded you from the inside, his cock still twitching inside your walls. He collapsed forward, chest slick with sweat against your back, before slowly pulling out of you.

“Joder.. keep it in.” Came an order from him, while he watched his cum leak down your thighs.

You just sighed, laid back against the cushions, finally able to breathe normally. Your body tensed with aftershocks as Javier pulled you closer from behind, arms wrapping around you. He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, brushing your damp hair back. Your hand found his, your fingers intertwining.

“No cigarette?”

“No cigarette, baby, not when I have you,” he whispered into your ear, breath warm, still shaky. “By the way, next time, I’m bringing a camcorder and recording us."

“Yea, what for?”

“So I can show the tape to anyone who gets too close to you,” he muttered half-jokingly, pressing his nose into your neck.

“You wish, Peña,” you laughed breathlessly, eyes fluttering shut. "I'll castrate you if you pull that shit on me."

"Then I'll settle for leaving hickeys, mi vida."

And if that wasn’t a confirmation that you were officially his, you didn’t know what else would be.