Summary: You’re supposed to be looking for a file. Instead, you find yourself sandwiched between two DEA agents with zero respect for personal space and way too much confidence. And maybe… that’s exactly what you needed.
Warnings: explicit sexual content, threesome, fingering, clit stimulation, overstimulation, dirty talk, filthy language, possessive behavior, no penetration (yet), smut brainrot, DEA agents being menaces
w/c: 2.9k • javi fic masterlist • taglist form
So yeah. Escobar got out. Ran right the fuck out of La Catedral.
Now you’re here with Murphy and Peña, standing in the place he used to live in. They called it a prison. Looked more like a fucking mansion.
There’s blood all over the floor. It stinks. Whatever was left behind? Not much. ‘Cops tore through it before you even got a shot’, just like Murphy said in our car earlier.
But he and Peña? They’re not exactly in work mode. Peña just shoved some weird black hat on his head (looked like it was stolen from a dead Russian) and had Murphy take a pic of him holding some magazine with Escobar on the cover wearing the same exact shit.
Unreal. And this is the same asshole who was bitching ten minutes ago that Murphy touched the porn mags without gloves. Fucking hypocrites.
They get on your nerves. You’ve been working with them since day one; well, since Murphy landed. Peña was already here. You and Murphy showed up about a week apart.
Still doesn’t mean they actually treat you like you’re part of it. They leave you out of shit. Sometimes it’s subtle. Sometimes not. Like they think you’re soft. Like they’re doing you a favor by keeping you out of the worst of it.
Pisses you off. But let’s be honest? They both turn you the fuck on.
Peña’s all sex. Doesn’t even try. Just walks around radiating fuck energy.
Murphy’s walking testosterone with that sharp-ass look on his face like he wants to stab the air.
They’re opposites. Peña dresses like he’s stuck in the ‘70s, Murphy looks like a pissed-off catalog model from a shitty ‘90s shoot.
But it works. It fucking works.
Murphy’s clean. Polished. Kinda tense.
Peña’s a goddamn mess. But the kind you wanna crawl on top of.
You swear since you got to Colombia, your body’s been in a constant state of ovulation. And today? You’re pretty sure it’s not just metaphorical.
Peña’s in that slutty blue jacket you’ve nicknamed in your head. And those gray pants? Yeah. The bulge is full-on visible. Swinging between his thighs like it owns the place.
You want to slide your hand between your legs and just fucking do it. Or better - have him do it for you.
“Hey.” Murphy snaps his fingers in front of your face. “Earth to you. Come on. Bathroom’s next.”
Bathroom? The fuck do they think they’re gonna find in there?
You sigh and follow.
Peña’s already inside, digging through a drawer like he’s looking for treasure.
A few minutes later, Trujillo shows up. “You know what Escobar does first thing whenever he moves into a new house?” he asks.
You all look up - Murphy unfazed, Peña twisting his torso like a fucking model, one hand on his hip.
You? You can’t even focus. You don’t give a shit what Escobar does when he gets a new fucking address. You’re too busy watching these two idiots dig through this place, and once again you’re so fucking horny it’s borderline medical.
Trujillo keeps going: “He always buys this toilet. Gold. Kohler.”
Peña glances around for a second, like he’s deciding if there’s anything left worth bothering with, and for a second you think he’s leaving the room but no. He just steps over to the toilet. The actual gold-plated toilet that’s right there.
He lifts the lid. And the seat.
And before you can even process what the fuck is happening, he’s unbuckling his belt. You hear the zipper. And then… you see it.
He takes it out. And starts pissing.
Oh my fucking God.
You freeze. You don’t move. You don’t even blink. Just stare at him. At it.
Then your brain kicks back in and suddenly you feel like maybe you should look away. And then you’re mad at yourself because why the fuck should you feel awkward? He’s the one with his dick out, not giving a single fuck.
You force your eyes away. Even though… you don’t really want to. Not that you’re into guys peeing; hell no. But that dick. You didn’t see the whole thing. Not even close. But the part you did see?
Holy shit. You’re so fucked.
Murphy’s laughing his ass off and taking pictures of him. Yeah. He’s literally taking pictures of Peña mid-stream. And he even throws in some smartass line about how the shot would be more interesting if Peña needed to take a shit.
Maybe. But not nearly as hot. Because then he wouldn’t have pulled his dick out in a way that let you see, almost all of it.
You bail. Fast. Like something’s on fire. You don’t stop until you’re all the way outside by the car. You yank the door open and drop into the back seat. Squeeze your thighs together. Trying to get relief. It doesn’t help.
You just sit there for a bit. Still warm, still wrecked, still replaying the image burned into your brain.
Eventually, you see them heading out. Murphy climbs into the driver’s seat. But Peña doesn’t sit up front. Trujillo does. Guess he decided to ride back with you guys.
Which means Peña slides into the back seat. Next to you. “You good? You dipped real quick,” he says as he drops down beside you, way too fucking close. Seriously? The car’s huge. Why the fuck is he this close?
And he’s asking like nothing happened. Like he didn’t just pull his dick out and take a piss in front of you.
“Yeah, no, I’m fine, I just…” You trail off. Because what the fuck are you supposed to say?
Peña doesn’t push. He just leans back into his seat and spreads out like he owns the entire back row. Legs wide. Probably so he doesn’t crush his precious cargo. Of course.
You get back to the base and don’t wait for shit. Door opens, you’re out. You don’t look back at the guys, or Trujillo. You just head inside.
First thing you see is fucking Pinzón. He’s already here. Standing there like he knows damn well there was nothing left to find up at La Catedral. Smug asshole.
You slide into your chair, try to focus. Just get something done. Anything.
Few minutes later, they show up. Peña and Murphy. They sit across from each other, lighting cigarettes, arguing in low voices like always. Probably about nothing. Probably about everything.
You try to tune them out. Doesn’t work. You feel it. You’re wet. What the fuck?
You stand up, about to hit the bathroom, when Trujillo cuts you off. Says Pinzón wants some files from the restricted storage. Classified shit. Guess you’re the lucky one who gets to dig through that graveyard. Of course. You nod, say nothing, head that way.
And maybe it’s nothing, but yeah… you feel Peña watching you. Maybe Murphy too.
You’ve been stuck in this fucking storage room for what feels like ten goddamn minutes. Still digging for that one dumbass file. Pinzón probably did this shit on purpose. Wouldn’t be a shock. The guy fucking hates the DEA and you three especially.
“Fuck!” you mutter, loud, just as the door creaks open. You whip around, startled as hell. You weren’t expecting anyone.
And there they are. Murphy and Peña.
Murphy walks in all casual, that spaced-out look on his face like he’s deep in thought. Peña’s still at the door, not moving. Just staring. Eyes half-lidded, dark.
“We came to check if you died or something,” Murphy says like it’s nothing. “You’ve been in here forever.”
“Yeah, I’m trying to find file 925 for the Escobar case, but clearly that’s going fucking great,” you snap, annoyed. Last thing you needed was these two. Murphy and his smartass comments. Peña and his tight fucking pants, and the image of his half-unzipped dick still burned into your brain from La Catedral.
Why the fuck are they even here?
Murphy steps closer and suddenly tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear.
What the fuck.
The touch sends a jolt straight down your spine.
“I think maybe we could help,” he says, voice low, almost smug. He tilts his chin toward Peña, who finally steps forward. Slow. Eyes on you. Dark and fucking hungry.
And yeah… this feels like some cliché-ass porn setup. But what if… what if you wanted something to happen in this dusty-ass storage closet?
Peña stops right in front of you. Murphy shifts behind you.
“You think we don’t see the way you look at us, cariño?” Peña mutters, eyes locked on you like he could fucking eat you alive.
You don’t even get a chance to open your mouth, don’t even breathe in to answer, because suddenly Murphy’s breath is on your neck. Then you hear it. A whisper, right in your fucking ear: “We see it. All of it.”
Goosebumps. Instantly.
Then his nose drags along the back of your neck… and before you can even process what the fuck is happening, he yanks you back into him. Hard.
You gasp. But you don’t say a word. Because this - this is exactly what you want. To be between them. No matter what the fuck happens next.
Murphy’s hands grip your arms, holding you against his chest. You feel something hard press into your ass. Yeah. That’s his cock. And it’s not subtle. Feels like it’s trying to break out of his jeans just to get to you.
You exhale shakily. Try to ease your arms out of his grip. Just a little.
“Stay still, baby,” Murphy says; louder this time, voice rough.
“I’m not going anywhere. I don’t want to,” you whisper back, barely audible. Apparently that’s enough. A couple more seconds, and his hands let go. But you don’t move. You meant it. You’re still pressed up against him, exactly where you said you’d stay.
That’s when Peña leans in close. “So tell me, cariño,” he murmurs. “What exactly do you need help with? Don’t think it’s the file anymore, is it?”
You’re frozen. Tranced out. One of them is grinding his hard dick into your ass. The other’s so close in front of you, you can feel his breath against your cheek.
You want them. Want them to take you. Burn out the fucking fire they’ve lit in your chest.
“I want…” you stammer. But it won’t come out.
“I know what you want, baby,” Murphy growls. His hands slide under your shirt, up your stomach. Your brain just short-circuits. You feel a pulse deep in your core. Then his hands climb higher. Up to your tits. “Can I?” he asks.
You nod. Barely. But enough.
He starts undoing your buttons. Can’t even see them properly, but somehow he knows exactly what he’s doing. Like muscle memory. When the last button’s open, his hands skim over your bra, then squeeze one of your tits through the fabric.
You moan. Lean into him more. Eyes fluttering shut, soaking in his heat behind you.
But then… Peña pulls your attention forward. “Look at me, cariño,” he says.
You lift your head from Murphy’s shoulder. Murphy’s still got both hands on your tits.
Peña leans in. Kisses you. His tongue slides into your mouth - slow, unhurried. You let him in instantly. No hesitation. Another fucking explosion rips through you.
He tastes like fresh smoke, mint gum, and something you can’t name. Probably just him. Whatever he is.
Your tongues slide together, messy and slow. His hands glide down your sides while Murphy unhooks your bra from behind (finally) and lets it fall. Then both of your tits are in his palms. He massages your nipples with his thumbs while pressing soft kisses along your neck and shoulder.
Peña’s fingers slide to the waistband of your jeans. He pulls back from the kiss, eyes on you. Waiting for permission. You nod.
And he moves. Unbuttons your fly. Lowers your zipper. Then yanks your jeans down just enough. His fingers slip under your panties, pulling them down too. Just low enough to get where he wants.
You don’t even know what’s happening anymore. Your brain’s fucking gone. But somehow you’re still lucid enough to watch.
Peña spits into his fingers. Rubs them together once. Then he slides two inside you - index and middle. All the way. No hesitation. Honestly, he probably didn’t even need the spit. You’ve been soaked since La Catedral; since you saw his cock half out while he was pissing.
“Fuck. So wet. Is this for us?” he growls. His fingers curl inside you, hitting that spot, slow tight circles that make your knees weak. Then he kisses you again. His fingers still deep in you. Other hand gripping your hip like he’s claiming it.
Murphy’s kissing and biting your neck now, one hand rolling your nipple - hard, just enough to make you whine. The other hand slides down. Grabs your bare ass. Full handful. Squeezing. He pulls you back into his cock, grinding it into you, pushing you down harder onto Peña’s fingers. And fuck, he feels even harder now.
You don’t know where this is going but holy fuck, this is what you needed. Exactly this.
Your whole body’s shaking. Your thighs are trembling, straining to keep balance between their bodies, but it’s fucking impossible, not when one of them’s got his fingers buried inside you and the other’s holding you like he’s trying to crush you into his chest.
Their hands. Their heat. The pressure. Peña’s fingers fucking you slow and steady. Murphy behind you, still playing with your tits. You’re coming undone.
Peña shifts, straightening a little, his eyes locked on yours. And those fingers? Still sliding in and out. Slow. Not rough. Not fast. Just… targeted. Every single movement dragging you closer to the fucking edge.
“You’re holding back,” he murmurs. “Let us feel it, cariño. Let us feel how much you need this.”
You do. Fuck, you do. But at the same time… you don’t want it to end. You want this to last. Want to stay between them. But it’s getting harder. So much fucking harder.
Murphy grips you tighter now. The hand that was on your ass moves to your stomach. The other’s still on your breast, fingers toying with your nipple. And then… he lowers his head. Drags his tongue down your spine, across your shoulder, all the way up to your ear. “She’s close, Javi,” he growls. “Feel that? She’s fucking shaking.”
He’s right. Your knees are buckling. You’re moaning now, loud. No point trying to stay quiet. Not with the way they’re ruining you.
Peña glances at him over your shoulder. Smiles. Then slides a third finger in. That’s it. That’s fucking it. Your breath goes ragged. Your whole body tenses like you’re about to explode.
You gasp. “No… no, wait–” But your body’s not listening anymore.
Murphy laughs. Low. Dirty. “No waiting now, baby. Not after all the fucking looks you’ve been giving us. You know you want this. You know you and that sweet little pussy want this.” He growls it right into your ear.
And you can’t even form a thought. Eyes squeezed shut, hips twitching between them, completely fucking gone.
And then - like they fucking planned it - Murphy’s hand slides down from your stomach. Slow. Deliberate. Down past your belly button, your lower stomach, until his fingers reach your clit. Just the lightest touch. Over Peña’s hand, over the mess between your legs. Right on that throbbing bundle of nerves. “Let me help him finish what he started.”
Peña doesn’t say a word. He just slows down. Gives you space to feel both of them. His fingers inside. Murphy’s pressure outside. Your whole body jerks. You fist Peña’s shirt, desperate. You whimper. “Fuck… fuck– god, please… don’t stop… don’t fucking stop…” You’re not even speaking straight anymore. Just moaning. Begging. Falling apart in their hands.
Murphy leans in, whispers in your ear: “You’re doing so good, sweetheart… so fuckin’ pretty like this…”
Peña kisses your jaw. Then your lips. Soft. Barely there. “You gonna come for us, cariño? Right here?” Then he moves his fingers again. Slow circles. Cruel little circles, just enough to break you open.
And Murphy? He presses harder against your clit with his thumb. Rubbing it firm. Precise. Fucking perfect.
That’s all it takes. You feel it rise. That pressure. That burn. That violent goddamn release. Your knees give out. Your whole body goes tight.
And then… you come. Loud. Louder than you meant. You’re pretty fucking sure someone heard that.
You grab onto Peña’s arm like it’s the only thing keeping you upright. While Murphy holds you to his chest, breathing hard into your hair. “That’s it,” he pants. “Fuckin’ take it. Good girl.”
Your clit’s still pulsing. Your body trembling. Your hips grinding into Peña’s fingers on their own, like you need more, even now. And he gives it to you. A few more strokes. In. Out. Deep.
While Murphy keeps rubbing, dragging it out, drawing every last fucking wave from you. It feels like you’re vibrating from the inside out. “That’s it. That’s our good girl,” Murphy whispers into your hair.
Then Peña finally pulls his fingers out. Glances at Murphy. Smirks. “Not bad for a file room.”
Murphy laughs. Low. Rough. “Yeah,” he mutters. “But next time… we bring a chair.”
Javi is, and always will be, my one true love. loml. Life ruiner.
And Steve? Look. He’s not even my type. Blonde? Married?? But somehow he’s been lighting a very unexpected fire in me lately and… well. This fic happened.
It ended a little open, yeah. But honestly, that just felt right. I didn’t want to force it into a box.
I hope I managed to capture the tension and weird, feral little balance between all three of them.
~ fun fact: I failed miserably the first time I tried to write this. This is the second version. So if it doesn’t totally suck, that’s already a win :)
477 words | Javier Peña x Steve Murphy | ao3 | masterlist
Summary: the tension between the two DEA agents reaches its peak
Warnings: 18+ mdni. oral, cum eating, allusion to anal
a/n: thank you for the inspo fic, @sp00kymulderr , smooches to my baby @aurorawritestoescape for beta-ing me 😘💕 dividers @/saradika-graphics 🙏 Happy pride 🌈
All the tension between them, which had been already simmering for weeks, exploded when Steve slammed Javi against the embassy hallway wall, his fists clenching on the other man's suit jacket. Peña’s fiery gaze slid to Steve's lips, his usually brown eyes turning dark. The mutual aggression morphed into something else, carnal and urgent, and Javi ran his tongue over his lower lip before pointing at the men's restrooms.
“Didn’t know you were into men, Murphy.”
Javi’s tone was playful and full of confidence, as he pushed Steve against the wall after locking the door behind them.
“I’m not,” he growled. Peña unzipped Murphy’s pants and freed his cock, his stiffness contradicting his words.
“You’re not? Guess you’re just into me, then,” Javi smirked, and it could have pissed Steve off, on another day, in another place, but not here, not now, when Javi was already stroking his shaft, his cocky face inches from his.
“Thought so.” The dark-haired agent got down on his knees, his stare as smug as usual, pulled down the other man’s pants lower to free a pair of balls that hung heavy against Steve’s thighs. “Fuck me,” Javi breathed, for once at a loss for words.
“Think you can take it?” Murphy asked, making Javi roll his eyes with an exaggerated sigh.
Steve's hand tightened on the back of Javi's neck as he spat on his reddened, dripping tip before taking it into his mouth, sucking on it. He rounded his lips to welcome the thick cock, let his throat get used to it inch by inch, until he was able to take it fully into his mouth.
“Shit, Javi, wait… oh fuck, easy, man…”
Javi's muffled chuckle vibrated around Steve's cock, buried deep in his throat.
“Damn, you're such an asshole.”
Javi pulled away and licked his length, teasing the blond man, their eyes locked.
“We don't have much time anyway, stop whining,” Javi smirked, a strand of his hair falling across his forehead, just above his cheeky stare. He stroked Steve’s length twice before taking it back into his mouth. His head was bobbing up and down and Steve felt his balls tighten.
“Shit,” he murmured, holding Javi tighter and pushing his hips forward, now fucking Javi’s throat, leading the pace. His orgasm was building fast, and he spat “finally shutting you up,” before shooting his cum into Javi’s mouth. He held him in place, his pubic hair tangling with his partner’s mustache, draining his balls in long spurts of cum.
After Steve released him, Javi stood up and palmed his cock over the pants. He unzipped them and spat into his hand, the sparkle in his eyes shining brighter when Steve's gaze fell on his thickness.
“Fuck it, the Ambassador can wait. Hold on to the sink, eyes in the mirror. Wanna see your face while I’m fucking you.”
Javi P masterlist
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@littlemisspascal @pascalsanctuary
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@sawymredfox @baronessvonglitter @604to647 @tateypots @schnarfer @bergamote-catsandbooks @magpiepills @for-a-longlongtime @gutter-noise @perotovar
Se metieron a la casa a quebrar el gato. Creo que lo ficharon cuando llegó al aeropuerto en Bogotá. Averigüe. / They broke into the house to kill his cat. I think they made him when he arrived at the airport in Bogotá. Find out.
Boyd Holbrook as Steve Murphy & Pedro Pascal as Javier Peña
Narcos S1E3 "The Men of Always" (2015-2017)
#project hail mary
#lana del rey
