Chapter Text
Men were so malleable. You’d show them a little more cleavage or bat your eyelashes and they’d turn to putty in your hands. Almost immediately. It seemed almost poetic in a way, since men have often been perceived as focused and unfazed by distractions. But they all had their weaknesses. She understood that quite early. Early memories of her in middle school came to mind. One of her fellow classmates had a crush on her, and she managed to get him to buy her lunch for a month. She couldn’t even remember his name even if her life depended on it. But she learned that manipulation was something useful and could be used in other aspects of her life.
This turned out to be most beneficial when starting her career as a detective. She was able to manipulate countless criminals throughout Los Angeles, leading to some of the highest arrest numbers in her department. She knew she was inflating her own contribution, aware that the city itself had seen a rise in crime over the past decade. But she was instrumental in bringing down a few key operations, some of which have been in the works for years. All because she wasn’t afraid to get closer to the enemy than any other colleague.
The newly brewing cocaine epidemic surely didn’t slow down her workload. As the problem became too vast, she quickly assumed a position as a DEA agent. This ended up being more challenging than expected, her differences with other colleagues now fully on display. Not only was it a complete boy’s club, which she expected, but none of them looked like her. Now, she the only person of colour on the entire floor. Her very presence was something her colleagues often minimized. They’d speak to her in a condescending tone when she retorted back or slip disparaging comments under their breaths. Unfortunately for them, her numbers could not be overlooked, and thus they would have to let her play with the big boys.
She was convinced that this was as far up as she would go, a thought solidified at her last major bust. She managed to get intel from a distributor for one of the biggest marijuana cartels in the city. She had gone out on a few dates with him and managed to piece vital information about a large shipment coming in from Mexico. Within the week, the majority of the cartel leaders had been arrested. Her partner at the time, Griffin, had coincidentally been there when the arrests were made. Although she was the one that risked her life to arrest these bastards, Griffin was the one that got promoted. He moved to a cushy administrative job downtown with double the pay. She, on the other hand, was left with a scar on her right thigh.
That’s why she was taken aback when she was approached about relocating to Colombia. She assumed that one of her colleagues would have weaselled their way through the door and snatched this position. To go into the belly of the beast was any DEA agent’s wet dream. When she questioned why she was chosen, her supervisor made an offhanded comment about her Mexican heritage. While holding onto his protruding gut, he fixed the hem of his shirt that had poked through his belt. He leaned back into his desk chair, her noting the sweat beams pooling from his temples, trailing almost symmetrically down to his reddish moustache. “You’d easily blend in, Garcia. Plus, your stats are remarkable.”
Before she knew it, she had purchased a one-way flight to Medellín.
She had adapted quite well to her new environment. Surprisingly, the US embassy in Colombia was populated with a lot more women than she’d expect. Although unfortunately none in the DEA, she felt relieved not having her role minimized every single day. This added benefit turned out to be less applicable as time went on. In totality, she maybe spent a full two weeks working in the actual embassy. The time was spent familiarizing herself on current intel of local drug operations and ensuring her Spanish didn’t spill too much into Mexican dialect. Her new supervisors were very familiar with how she conducted her work. Unlike back home in LA, they didn’t antagonize her for using more lucrative ways to gather information. Morality wasn’t a point of contention in Medellín. They just wanted the job done. And they knew that could be achieved if they left her work as she pleased.
And she did not disappoint. With every passing week, it seemed like her influence got the DEA one step closer to ending the war on drugs. This was of course wishful thinking, as drug lords like Escobar were able to sprout new operations just as quickly as the DEA closed down old ones. Things had seemingly started to worsen, enough that new agents were hired by the embassy. Her supervisors contacted her if she wanted a partner to help with her undercover operations. She declined. But they trusted her to keep business as usual.
She had been sitting at the bar alone for about an hour, the salsa music once blaring now filtered as background noise. She brought the glass of sparkling water to her lips, it disguised as a mojito as to not bring too much attention to herself. She quickly adjusted the hem of her red dress as it began creeping up her thigh. Normally, she’d leave it there as it has often been the attention grabber for one of these narcissistic drug traffickers to make a move. But tonight was a slow night, and she was beginning to think it was a bust. She was usually very successful at this bar. It was somewhat secluded, almost like a speakeasy, small and dark, which gave it an inevitably intimate aura. This was a common place for business dealings and men to drink their sorrows away. Often men of prominence. But maybe not tonight.
While placing her chilled glass onto the bar, something caught her attention. Someone new. His presence was stoic. And strong. She could tell by the way he scanned the room with dark eyes, palms shifting towards his hips, that he was a man of importance. While relatively pleased by the ambiance, he began pacing towards the bar. This is what she was looking for.
She did not recognize him at all. She had been so deep into her research that she wondered how this one slipped by. This must have been a new addition to the cartel. She only assumed he was higher up since he reeked of power and authority. Surely, he must have been higher than a typical dealer. He was well dressed, a cream collared shirt neatly tucked into his blue jeans. His only accessory was a gold watch that was probably worth less than a few hundred dollars. This was puzzling to her in a way that ignited a genuine intrigue. Someone higher up would never be caught dead with a watch cheaper than a grand. There must be something more about his story that made sense of this, and she needed to find out.
By the time the stranger had settled at the bar, only a few stools away from hers, he had lit a cigarette. She took another sip from her glass, its carbonated content now watered down by the melting ice, to stop herself from keeping her eyes locked on the man. As the smoked travelled to her vicinity, she turned her attention to the stage as the blaring of the trumpets erupted. Even though partially sheltered by the music from the live entertainment, she heard the man order a shot of rum.
She turned her attention back to the bar, watching as the man took a deep drag of his cigarette. The scent sent a craving down her spine, holding back the urge to reach into her purse and light her own. She instead took another sip. In between puffs, she noted his paranoia as he would momentarily glance over his shoulder. Normally, this would worry her, but this just clued her in that her hunch was correct. She needed something to strike a conversation with him.
Once the bartender had returned with the rum, the stranger had quickly thrown it back into his mouth, barely letting the liquid settle in the glass. She noted a few droplets collecting on his chin, probably due to his eagerness. He asked the bartender for another one, using his wrist to wipe away the alcohol.
While the bartender stepped away, she crossed her legs from beneath the bar. With a coquettish smile from behind her glass, she spoke barely louder than the music.
“Espero que estés celebrando.” [I hope you’re celebrating.]
“Sí, estoy.” [Yes, I am.] He replied a little too hastily.
“¿Qué estás celebrando?” [What are you celebrating?] She took a long drag from her straw. She noted his eyes dropping to her mouth, watching as her cheeks hollowed in while she sipped. Pathetic.
“El fin de semana.” [The end of the week.]
“Felicitaciones por terminar la semana. Pareces un hombre trabajador.” [Well, congratulations for finishing the week. You seem like a hardworking man.]
The compliment seemingly loosened him up, her noticing he hasn’t checked over his shoulder in a while. He smiled at her while the bartender returned with his second shot. He eyed the glass for a moment before adding, “Trae otro igual para la senorita, por favor.” [Bring another one for the lady, please.]
She smiled at the request while she watched him stand up from his seat. As he settled into the seat next to her’s, the bartender had returned with the additional shot for her to enjoy. She turned her attention to the stranger, bringing the small glass to his until they touched.
“Salud, para hacer el trabajo.” [Cheers, to getting the job done.]
She grinned before repeating, “Para hacer el trabajo.” In a swift motion, both tilted their heads back to down the drink. She chased the sensation with her sparkling water to appease the burn.
“Soy Carla, por cierto.” [I’m Carla, by the way.] She lied, reaching out her hand to shake the stranger’s. Seemingly more tranquil, he reached forward to bring the back of her hand towards his lips.
“Encantado, Carla.” [Pleasure meeting you, Carla.]
The initial fire that she felt from his unexpected contact burned throughout the night. It was as if the fullness of his plump lips ignited an intense connection. The stranger was entrancing and intoxicating. His cadence oozed of charisma. She often found herself getting lost in his charm. She had to remind herself multiple times to stay focused, knowing this man must have some valuable clue that she could use later on.
He didn’t shy away when the bartender returned to the pair. He ordered drinks throughout the night, almost as if he was trying to forget something. Regardless, his increasingly inebriated state was powerless against his persistent anonymity. He had spent the majority of the time inquiring about her without even unveiling his own name. He seemed cunning, but this was somewhat rehearsed. He knew to limit what he was saying, as if trained to do so. He never fell for her tricks and dodged her questions effortlessly. He never gave her the information she was desperately seeking. She wanted to make good use out of him, but began to fear this was may be a dead end.
Something told her to keep going. From his body language, she could tell he was enamoured with her. She’d catch him watching her mouth as she spoke about a fictional childhood memory, noticeably getting more excited when she’d giggle softly at his jokes. He seemed just as fixated as she was, with eyes growing darker with a passion as bright as the sun. As the alcohol continued its course through his system, he had become more liberal with his touches. He had initially placed his fingers on her hands, admiring the fresh coat of polish on her nails. Then they began to travel up the length of her forearm, noticeably stopping right at her elbow. She placed her hand on his shoulder to reciprocate.
She realized after a while that it would probably take more than a night of flirting and drinking to get the man to talk. If she wanted to get anything of value, she’d have to make the effort to see him again. She wasn’t complaining. Had this not been a job, she would have probably tried to seduce him anyway. Without even trying, he’d exude a level of confidence that make her weak at the thought. He’d talk about nothing of importance, an anecdote she barely remembered, her only remembering the curling of his lips around the butt of his cigarette, and all she could think about was sex. God, she got aroused just thinking about undressing this man. She couldn’t explain this intense attraction that was brewing.
Ironically, she had gained focus when his palm landed on her lower thigh. While responding to the act with a shy smile, she realized he also only had sex on his mind. She understood that this was as far as any discussion would go. While rough fingers began rubbing circles into her skin, she knew she’d have to give in to stay in his good graces. She placed her manicured fingers on his chin, tilting his jaw so she could stare into his eyes. He pressed their foreheads together in anticipation, the hot air from his parted lips enticing her to move forward. She had to resist the urge to kiss him as to not seem eager. But she did kiss him after some time. A slow and sensual connection that completely drowned any surrounding sounds.
Rarely did her uncover missions turn into actual solicitation. It often didn’t come to that point, but this wasn’t something she was completely new to. But this was more than sleeping with someone to get intel. She needed to sleep with him to be sane again. She knew she’d go crazy if this is how the night ended. She wouldn’t be able to stop fantasizing about ‘what if’.
When he offered to take her back to his place, she didn’t hesitate. They walked into his apartment shortly after, her noticing its well decorated interior. Most places she’d visit undercover had barely any distinctions between rooms, so she was intrigued by the cohesive addition of paintings and plants sprinkled throughout the apartment. If anything, this only confirmed that he was a man of importance. She initially stalled, taking a few seconds to examine each piece of art on display. This was partially out of curiosity, and partially for detective purposes. She was hoping to find a clue as to who she was able to sleep with.
He, on the other hand, wasted no time. He had settled onto the couch soon after locking the front door, giving his lap a firm pat when he grew increasingly impatient. The sound of his hand on his upper thigh caused her to shift her attention away from the colourful painting. She watched as he spread his legs further apart, signalling her to come join him on the couch.
She grinned as her teeth captured her bottom lip. She kicked off her nude pumps while closing the distance between them. He kept his focus up at her, his palms began to trail under the hem of her dress. They stopped at her thighs before she decided to climb into his lap. While her knees sank into the couch cushions, his hands had liberally hiked further up her hips. She retaliated the move by bringing her weight down on his lap, their hips now pressed against one another. While fingers stayed stationary on her, he began to lean in for another kiss. She quickly intersected it with her finger, giving him a sly grin.
“Tranquilo, papi. Primero, necesito saber tu nombre. Así que sé qué gritar esta noche.” [ Easy, daddy. First, I need to know your name. So I know what to scream tonight. ]
Part of her was still prying. Even in the moments leading up to her exploit, she was still digging for information. This is probably what her friends back home meant when they said she thought too much about work. The term of endearment made him visible shudder, his mouth hanging open as he succumbed to her charm. The grip on her body had begun to tighten.
“Javier.”
Jackpot .
“Javier...” She dragged his name between her teeth as she dipped her head down to connect her lips to his neck. He took a noticeably deep breath, listening as she repeated his name over and over again. The soft kisses made the hair on the back of his neck stick up. He was surprisingly patient now, enjoying the prolonged foreplay while hips bucked forward against hers.
The sudden movement made her chuckle, breaking away from his neck to turn her attention to him. His eyes were partially shut, lips pursed forward inviting her to lean in. She did while placing a delicate palm to his jaw.
He initially matched her pace, peppering a few pecks when she initially pressed their lips together. As time went on, their kisses got longer and deeper. His hands travelled from beneath her dress to capture her face. He sat up on the cough to press harder, using his tongue to demand entrance of her mouth. While opening up to him, she heard him groan deep within his chest. His hands, huge on her cheeks, were practically suffocating. She instead guided them along her torso. When his palms found her breasts, she squeezed his hands, allowing him to touch as he pleased.
“¿Qué quieres hacerme, Javier?” [What do you want to do to me, Javier?]
Her more forward inquiry caused him to grow slightly timid. Maybe the alcohol was starting to get to him, or maybe he wasn’t used to someone being so bold with him. While maintaining their lips together, she managed to slip the straps of her dress off. She let the fabric slip from her torso, exposing her bare breasts to him.
“Todo. Dios mío.” [ Everything. Oh my God. ]
“Dime.” [ Tell me. ] She added, whimpering slightly when the grip on her breasts tightened.
“ Quiero cogerte en esta sofá.” [I want to fuck you on this couch.]
“Hacerlo, Javier. Soy tuyo.” [Do it, Javier. I'm yours.]
The encouragement made him more respondent, and it didn’t take much longer for him to flip her back onto the couch. She grinned against his lips as he engulfed her in a more forceful kiss. While tongues entangled with each other, his warm palm made its way up her thigh. He gripped the flesh of her ass while connecting their hips, simulating a slow rocking motion against her. She felt the rubbing of his jeans on her inner thighs as her legs wrapped around his waist, leaving a burning sensation that she quickly forgot about.
From underneath the dress, her underwear barely covered herself. Even if it did, they were no match for Javier’s determined hands. While her fingers reached upwards to tangle with his brown curls, his own began moving the garment to the side. She didn’t realize their kiss could have gotten deeper but managed to achieve the impossible while fingertips teased her entrance. She moaned into his mouth, causing Javier to grin. He slowed down his movement purposefully, concentrating most of his time on her clit. Circular motions were heavenly against her already dripping core. She wanted to stay in this moment for eternity.
Entranced by her own pleasure, she barely heard the sound of his jeans dropping to the floor. While maintaining his contact with her clit, he guided her legs further apart. Her eyes were completely shut, back beginning to arch up from the couch, not realizing he was preparing himself for her.
It wasn’t until a sharp sensation had washed between her legs that she had opened her eyes. She was ready to protest and tell him that it was painful. But he leaned down to give her lips a tender kiss, juxtaposing the vulgar act. She began to melt into his touch as she stretched around him. He slowly moved his hips back before pushing into her again. She couldn’t hold back her moans.
Fuck, that felt good.
“Eres enorme, Javi..." [You’re so big, Javi...] She whispered against his mouth. He didn’t reply, instead giving her a deep kiss while maintaining a steady pace.
Surely this probably made his ego inflate the size of the room. This was a good thing, knowing he’d be more likely to keep coming back to her. But if she was being honest, this wasn’t that much part of the act. He was huge, and he felt divine inside of her. She leaned back into the couch while his fingers dug into her hips, her eyes barely able to stay open. He pushed in more deeply, using a skilled hand to guide one of her legs over his hips. He earned a soft moan with every hard thrust he gave her. She was impressed by his coordination, knowing he had an astounding amount to drink tonight. While biting down on her bottom lip, he leaned forward to bring himself closer to her body. Her hands had wrapped around his neck, fingers delicately petting the back of his hair. She encouraged him to keep going, only causing him to nibble at the crook of her neck.
“Papi, te sientes tan bien.” [ Daddy, you feel so good. ]
She sensed him getting close to his climax, clued by his increased pace and the volume of his grunts. She knew she wouldn’t have been able to finish in time, even though she was well on her way. Again, she needed to ensure this wasn’t going to be her last time seeing him. She wanted him to think she had given him the best orgasm of her life before he inevitably collapsed on her. She already got a first name, which was a good start. She could start digging. While faking her release, she arched her back and pressed against his chest harder. Although he wasn’t able to see her face from this position, she made sure to exaggerate her facial expressions. Just in case. She called out his name, digging her nails into his still covered back. She just realized they hadn’t removed all of their clothes yet.
It didn’t take much longer for him to finish after. He grunted her fake name a few times, followed by slowing thrusts. She kept her eyes closed while he filled her, begging for every drop of him. He slowed his movements until he remained stagnant, his hands still engulfing her in an embrace. She kept her arms around his neck, matching his breathless breathing as Javier came down from his climax.
When she cleaned up, she was surprised to hear Javier ask if she wanted to spend the night. She declined with a simple smile, giving him the excuse that she had work in the morning. She gave him a slow parting kiss before offering him a number to reach her. He promised to call her. While walking out of his apartment, she grinned to herself. She knew she had at least a few days to gather as much information about this sucker before meeting again.