Pairing: Pedro Pascal x reader, Gabriel Luna x reader
Summary: You flirt with Gabriel, and Pedro drives you back to the hotel.
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The two production assistants join you near the bar, sipping their cocktails noisily through straws.
"Pedro Pascal, come on!" they say, giggling and nodding in his direction.
You pretend to be detached while your gaze turns in his direction. He's on the other side of the room, beer in hand, chatting with Gabriel.
Damn, even from here, you can feel how much he affects you. Niagara Falls in your thong.
"Yeah, yeah, he's not bad," you say briefly.
"Not bad? You need to rethink your standards of beauty, sweetie."
"Pedro is… everything. He's handsome, rich, well-built. I eat his ass whenever he wants."
They start to annoy you, as well as make you jealous. You don't feel particularly competitive with them, and you're confident enough to know your strengths.
However, they have one major advantage that you don't have: being a middle-aged woman.
"Hmm. Gabriel's not bad either."
You're trying to change the subject. Mostly, you're trying to forget that they'd have a better chance of hooking up with Pedro together than you would on your own.
"Gabriel is cute, yes, as a starter or an appetizer. But Pedro is the WHOLE menu."
"It's starting to get a little degrading."
Your tone is dry, it's almost as if you're gritting your teeth, then you make up for it by adding a little more honey to the sound of your voice.
"I heard he prefers blondes anyway. And women his own age too."
They giggle again as they clink their glasses, their eyes glazed over from the alcohol that gives them wings. Then, their confidence heightened by all the cocktails they've consumed, they leave you alone to join Pedro and Gabriel in their conversations.
You watch the scene from afar. They look like two Karens.
And there they go, laughing loudly, touching each other's shoulders and forearms, and nudging each other with their elbows. It's enough to make you puke.
You fill your glass with a mixture that looks like punch, before taking your pack out of your pocket. Sliding a filter into the corner of your mouth, you continue to glance briefly in their direction. Pedro and Gabriel are laughing, and those two turkeys are overdoing it.
If they could get down on all fours, they would do so without hesitation. They're already licking their boots anyway.
You roll it with anger and frustration, your fingers unsteady and your body shaking. This cigarette looks like a trumpet and the punch tastes disgusting. It's a fucking great night. You finish your drink in one gulp before tucking your cigarette between your lips. You'll have to walk past them to get to the exit anyway, and you'll try to be as nonchalant as possible.
As you approach the group, Pedro looks up and your eyes meet. He smiles slyly as he raises the bottle to his mouth. A wave of excitement floods your pussy, soaking your panties.
"Yes, Pedro, my pussy has been crying for you since this morning, and your fucking mouth should already be on my clit." You scream inside your head.
But you try not to show anything, not to let anything show, even though your cheeks are burning and your thighs are sticky with wetness.
"You go out for a smoke?"
Gabriel calls out to you and you stop in front of their discussion group. You feel Pedro's gaze on you, but you don't return it.
You point to the cigarette dangling from your mouth with a wave of your hand.
"Do you mind if I join you?"
You don't take your eyes off Gabriel, even though Pedro's gaze burns your skin and makes your hair stand on end.
"Not at all. I'd be delighted."
You hear the two girls exchanging glances and giggles, while Gabriel grabs his jacket from the back of the chair and joins you to walk the rest of the way to the exit.
You hand him the rolling papers.
"If you're offering so kindly, how can I refuse?"
He chuckles softly and his eyes crinkle, looking a bit like Pedro in this light.
"You know how to roll, I guess?"
"I think I remember how to do it."
Gabriel is cute. Really cute. His slicked-back hair, his beard, his mustache, but what you like best are the freckles that dot his entire face.
Especially the ones just below his eyes.
You watch him as he tucks the tobacco into the paper, adjusting the amount by placing the filter at the end. You've always loved watching people roll cigarettes: the movements of their hands, their fingers fluttering, their muscles tensing…
There's something about sex that really turns you on. Especially when it's time to slide the tongue along the entire length of the sheet to wet the sticky part. Gabriel does it like a pro, and you can't take your eyes off his tongue: thick, pink, covered in saliva. It's appetizing.
He then taps his cigarette on his palm to tamp it down before placing it between his full, powder-pink lips.
It takes you a moment to realize he's talking about his cigarette.
"Oh, huh, yeah, not bad for a beginner."
"You dare call me a beginner?"
He laughs and you smile as you look at him.
"I don't just dare, I allow myself to."
"She said, as her cigarette resembled a woodwind instrument."
"Don't eat out of the hand of the one who feeds you, my dear."
"I beg your pardon, my dear, but it's the truth."
You burst out laughing as you pretend to be indignant, and then you laugh again as you look at your cigarette, which does indeed resemble a recorder.
You almost have tears in your eyes as you try to light your cigarette. Your hair keeps falling in front of your eyes.
"Oh, wait. Don't burn your hair."
Gabriel slips one of your strands of hair behind your ear, his hand warm and soft against your ear, and you smile, almost embarrassed by his attention. He keeps his hand on your head until you manage to light your cigarette.
"Can I borrow your lighter?"
The smile leaves your face when you recognize the tone of his voice. It's not Gabriel's.
"Oh, Pedro, I didn't even hear you come in."
Gabriel suddenly removes his hand from your face, while you lift your head, exhaling the long breath you had just taken.
He is standing, you are still sitting on the windowsill, and you offer him the lighter, reaching out your arm. He moves closer to you, towering over you with his full height. His cock is almost at the level of your mouth.
You inevitably shiver when your skin touches and your fingers brush against each other. Pedro doesn't seem angry or frustrated, perhaps preoccupied, if you had to name the expression on his face.
Yet his already very dark eyes seem almost black right now. He lights his cigarette, inhales, then exhales, before handing the lighter to Gabriel.
"What were you talking about?"
The lighter clicks, the flint ignites, and the flame illuminates Gabriel's face. You can see his freckles even more clearly now, and you smile as you watch them wrinkle under the contractions of Gabriel's face.
He hands you back your lighter with a smile, which you return, your fingers brush against each other, and you quickly put it in your jacket pocket.
"Gabriel was making fun of the shape of my cigarette before you arrived."
You and he burst out laughing, while Pedro watches the scene with the utmost calm. You like the feeling of being in control for once.
"Does it still look like a woodwind instrument, by the way?"
Even if it means going overboard.
You show the cigarette to Gabriel, who smiles as he smokes.
"No, it looks more like a flute now."
And you laugh a little too loudly. To think you were criticizing the two Karens earlier.
"A flute, really? Are you into music or something?"
"I used to be, yes. Do you know the band Suicidal Tendencies?"
"Yes, absolutely, I love that band!"
"Well, I wanted to be like them when I was a kid."
"And what happened next?"
"I became an actor to compensate."
Yet another fit of laughter. You have to admit, Gabriel is very funny and you feel really comfortable with him. He really manages to lighten the mood in a way that you don't quite understand.
Pedro, on the other hand, stays a little in the background, which almost surprises you, since he's usually such a cheerful guy.
"I have a T-shirt with the name of that band on it. When my parents saw me wearing it, they thought it was a subliminal message."
"Oh, my. Hey, man, isn't that one of your favorite bands too?"
Gabriel tries to include Pedro in the conversation. It's obvious. He takes a drag on his cigarette and nods as he exhales.
His tone is neutral, pleasant, calm, and his gaze alternates between your face and Gabriel's. If he's playing the laid-back guy, well, he's playing it extremely well.
"Wasn't it Tommy's character who wanted to start his own band before the whole Last of Us thing?"
"No, it's my character, actually."
And Pedro answers you. His eyes fixed on your face. His tone courteous. And still that smirk on his lips as he exhales smoke from his nostrils. You nod in agreement as you watch him surreptitiously.
His T-shirt flutters slightly and the light breeze makes the curls of his hair dance above his head. He has one hand in his pocket while the other skillfully holds his cigarette between his index and middle fingers. In this position, his blood rushes through his veins, you can almost see his heart beating in his wrist, his hand is so veiny.
You can't help imagining that hand around your neck or pressed against your waist as he takes you from behind.
You deliberately look away from his hand and clear your throat to refocus.
"What about you?" Gabriel asks. "Any aspirations to become a rock star?"
"Oh no, not at all. Singing in the shower suits me just fine. Besides, I've never really liked the spotlight."
You're finishing your cigarette when the two Karens finally join you. It's as if they could smell Pedro from outside. You can't help but sigh when you see them coming, almost staggering and already laughing hysterically.
"Hey, boys! We've been looking everywhere for you! You were hiding here, you naughty boys."
One of them approaches Pedro and caresses his forearm, giving him doe eyes. Damn, she's really hungry.
It pains you to admit it, but she's quite beautiful and definitely Pedro's type. She's average height, with pretty, round, firm breasts, a flat butt, but voluptuous hips. Of course, she's ash blonde, and you can't remember the color of her eyes, but they must be blue or green.
The other Karen approaches Gabriel, laughing about the fact that "a man as handsome as him shouldn't smoke."
It's as if you suddenly find yourself in an alternate reality.
So, to avoid suffering any more, you stub out the rest of your cigarette on the windowsill before placing it in the ashtray. You get up and dust off your skirt reflexively before hitting the road.
"Are you leaving?" Gabriel asks.
"Yes, I'm tired actually. I'm going to crash at the hotel."
"Oh no, stay a little longer."
"I'd love to, but I have to get up early tomorrow."
"Nope, I don't have a car. I was thinking of taking a bus or something."
Gabriel's Karen starts snickering.
"Honey, you'll never find a bus here at this time of night. We're in the middle of nowhere."
"Well, I'll call an Uber then, sweetie."
You return her condescending tone by emphasizing the word "sweetie" while smiling.
Pedro bends down to stub out his cigarette on the ground, then stuffs the butt into his back pocket.
"That's kind of you, but don't worry about it, I'll manage. Plus, you've been drinking."
"Not enough to get drunk. You're staying at the same hotel as us, I presume?"
"I don't know. The Swan Hotel?"
"Yes, it's the same one. I'll just grab my jacket and we can go."
"Will you be back later?" Gabriel asks.
"Probably, yes. I'll let you know."
Pedro says goodbye to the second Karen, then waves to her doppelganger and Gabriel before walking toward you.
"My car is the gray one over there. You can wait for me there if you want."
He nods and heads inside while you walk toward the parking lot.
Being in Pedro's car, you thought about it a lot today when you were imagining a quiet place to have sex with him. In fact, you even imagined having sex with him tonight, right after the party.
But fantasies can be disappointing, especially when things don't turn out the way you imagined. You're far from having sex, you're not even talking.
The atmosphere is tense, the mood heavy, and you don't really understand his reaction right now. Or maybe you're imagining things and this is just his way of being calm? Damn, how you hate asking yourself so many questions.
Luckily the radio is on, because otherwise, you don't know what you would have done.
"He's married, you know."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because he seems to like you, and you seem to like him too."
"Wait, what? That's ridiculous, I just met him!"
"It didn't seem to be a problem earlier, was I wrong?"
"Okay, you're starting to get mean now."
"Mean? I'm just saying what I saw."
"What's the problem? Are you jealous or something? Because let me remind you, you're the one who doesn't want me, not the other way around."
You turn your head in his direction, and Pedro keeps his eyes on the road. You steal a glance at his profile, his nose in particular. You really don't understand his reaction.
"It's not that simple, I already told you."
"Bullshit. It didn't seem that complicated with that girl earlier, though."
"Okay, so now you're the jealous one."
You ignore his answer, sighing as you look out the window. You pray that you'll arrive at the hotel soon so you can get out of this car as quickly as possible.
"Look, I'm just saying he's married. Gabriel is a good guy, and he'll treat you well if something happens between you two. But I thought you should know that he's not available… in the long run."
You don't bother to answer, because even in this kind of situation, Pedro is good. There's no denying it. He saw you flirting with him, then with Gabriel, and even knowing that, he takes it with such detachment that it's almost hurtful.
And you don't know what hurts you more. The fact that he accepts that you can sleep with Gabriel, or the fact that he'll never sleep with you because he thinks you're too young.
"Aren't you going to say anything?"
"I don't know what to say."
You start fidgeting, twisting your fingers and shaking your legs. You tap your knees together repeatedly, and you can feel Pedro's eyes not only on your skin but also on your face and fingers.
Fortunately, your hair falls slightly over your side, hiding your uncomfortable expression.
"Nothing will happen with Gabriel. He's funny and I enjoy his company, but that's all. Besides, I didn't know he was taken."
You keep shaking your legs and focusing on the road ahead to try to think about something else.
"Anyway, he's not the one I want."
You tuck your hair behind your ear and keep looking out the window.
Your legs are moving faster and faster until the sound of your skin against the leather seat starts to drown out the radio.
And then you feel his hand resting on your thigh, just above your knee. His hand is warm, soft, and slightly thicker than your leg.
You moan softly, as if surprised, and your legs suddenly freeze. You can see his veins, his fingers, and even the tattoo between his thumb and index finger.
The pad of his thumb caresses your skin very lightly and you feel your body melt instinctively. As if it were natural. As if Pedro had touched you before and your body remembered his contact on you.
"Were you having an anxiety attack?"
"Oh, I thought so. I'm sorry for touching you without asking. I tend to be touchy when I'm stressed myself."
He turns his head and your eyes meet. You look at his mouth, he does the same, and then you realize that the car has just stopped, which means you've arrived and will soon be leaving the vehicle.
His hand is still on your leg.
"Well, thanks for driving me home."
He squeezes his hand tighter on your knee, before moving his fingers up to the middle of your thigh. Then he lifts his hand with a sigh and you almost gasp when you no longer feel his warmth against your thigh.
He gets out of the car and walks around to open the door for you. "Damn it, Pedro, stop playing the gentleman and fuck me against this damn door." That's what you keep telling yourself.
And then when he heads in the same direction as you, you realize he won't be going back to the party with the others.
"Aren't you going to join Gabriel and the others?"
"Actually, no. I'm tired and I'm filming tomorrow."
"A wise decision, I imagine."
Once at the front desk, you greet the receptionist and spell your name when asked for your reservation.
"I'm sorry, but we don't have a reservation under that name."
"What do you mean? That's impossible. I joined the creative team for The Last Of Us today, and Craig told me he had booked a room for me here at this hotel."
"I'm sorry, ma'am, but I don't have any reservation under your name. It may be a mistake or an oversight, I'm confused."
"All right, great. Well, in that case, do you have any rooms available?"
"Unfortunately, all our rooms are booked."
"Please tell me this is a joke."
"I wish I could tell you otherwise, but no. I'm really sorry about this situation."
"Well, it seems Craig forgot to book me a room."
"Do you have any extra beds?" Pedro asks the host.
"Could you bring one up to my room? I'm in number 69."
Pedro smiles at the host, thanking him yet again, as he looks at you with warmth.
He nods at you and you follow him as he walks down the hallway to the elevator. He presses the button, the doors open, and Pedro steps inside.
And you watch him, standing against the elevator wall as he questions you with his gaze. A resigned look that nevertheless seems so intense. A look that has haunted you since you met him this morning and continues to haunt you tonight. He has the same look in his eyes as when he asked you if your pussy was crying.
And you almost want to tell him that yes, your pussy is singing his praises, dripping down your thighs for him right now.
