The Lesson (Crush Drabble)

The Lesson (Crush Drabble)

Pairing: Javier Peña x Fem!Reader

Summary: You have something that you want Javi to teach you.

Rating: Explicit 18+ (By proceeding to read beyond this warning, you are agreeing that you are 18 years or older)

Content:  Explicit Smut (Risk of Getting Caught, Dirty Talk, Size Kink, Innocence Kink, Oral, Fingering, PinV sex, teacher/student dynamic), Age Gap (15 years), Yearning, Pining, Insecurity

Word Count: 3.6K

A/N: Happy Crush Day, friends! Here we are again! This happens about a week after Part I. No spoilers for future parts.

Special thanks to @leylinefiction and @captainlexi94 for sending in asks about this topic in particular. 😘

Masterlist  | Series Masterlist

Javier Peña. Javier Peña. Javier Peña. If only your diary could see you now. 

In his room. In his bed. And not for the first time.

You smile as you turn over on your side, take a deep inhale of the scent that clings to his pillow. He smells so good. How does he always smell so good? The scent is not even one you can easily identify. He just…he smells like heat feels. The way it can make you burn even as you long to curl up against it. 

You turn onto your back again as you listen for the sound of the shower across the hall. Knowing he’s in there without a stitch of clothing and without you seems particularly unfair. You close your eyes and picture it. Wet hair and wet skin. The smell of his soap and his shampoo curling into the steam. Water running from the shower head to his broad shoulders and strong arms, a steady stream down the planes of his chest and stomach, lower to…You groan, grab the pillow from behind your head and press it to your face. 

It had been easier to think straight back before you knew what he looked like naked. The things you could have accomplished…back before your sex drive took over and flipped a switch in your brain as easily as he likes to flip you on his mattress. 

Yes, you had pined, you had fantasized–had you ever fantasized, but now you know. And God, did he have to be so pretty? Isn’t the real thing not supposed to ever be able to compare to what you've imagined?

Will that be the case for this, too?

You’re doing it. Tonight. You’ve decided. You can’t keep losing your nerve just because you’re not completely sure of what to do. After all, you’ve done it before, and your college boyfriend certainly hadn't complained so…But what if you do something wrong and Javier decides he’d prefer someone with a bit more experience?

No, you’re doing this. You want to do this. It has been on your mind every time you’ve been with him, every time you’ve seen him strip his clothes away, every time you’ve felt the thick width of him pushing into you. Not to mention every few hours in between.

You want to know what he would feel like in your mouth. What he tastes like. You want to make him feel good like he always does for you. Want to hear the sounds he makes, the words he says.

Just like that, bonita. Always so good for me.

You moan, remove the pillow from your face and open your eyes to stare up at the popcorn ceiling and the spinning wicker-blade fan. You should have just gone in there with him. You had been insane not to. The risk of getting caught pales in comparison to the reality of not getting pressed up between him and those shower tiles right now.

Sure, you’d never be able to look Chucho in the eyes again, and he’d probably tell your parents but is that really…

Bad. Very bad. Get a grip.

You take a deep breath and sit up, pushing up the bed until your back is against the headboard. This is better. Collected. Patient. Simply and calmly waiting for him to return as if your stomach isn’t in knots and you’re not already embarrassingly wet between your thighs from a few kisses and from just thinking of him.

Jesus Christ, you want him so bad it aches.

How long has it been since he helped you through the window? Can’t be more than a few minutes even though it feels more like hours.

You had come over as soon as you’d been sure your parents were asleep, had expected to find that Chucho already was as well but…Instead Javier had pulled you through the window with even more haste than the previous night, had kissed you before you could get out a single word. 

“Pop’s still awake,” he had whispered in your ear when he pulled away. “We just got done.”

“With what?” You had whispered back. You had been able to taste the hard work from the day in the salt on his lips, feel it in the way his dirt and dust-streaked white button-up shirt was damp with sweat beneath your palms. 

“We put in a new gate in the back pasture. Took way longer than it should have. Fuck, been thinking about this all day.” He had leaned down to kiss you again then, hungrier, more urgent, a tempo that you had instantly risen to meet as your fingers moved to the buttons of his shirt. 

He had groaned when your fingers hit bare skin, had slipped his hands into the back pockets of your jeans and tugged you against him. Not really necessary since you had already been trying to press up against him in any way you could.

“Bonita.” His voice had been low, insistent, drawing you even closer. “Come shower with me.” 

You had already been nodding, his mouth a teasing breath away from yours, when the first thing he’d said had started shouting at you from the last remnants of your self-control. 

“Wait.” Your head had jerked back as Javier made a low sound of disapproval at the loss of contact. “You just said Chucho was still awake.”

“He’s going to bed. We'll be quiet,” he had reassured you, sounding so very confident that could be the case that you had almost believed him, especially with the way he was nosing along your shoulder until—

The sound of a door opening and closing somewhere in the house had made you jump, and even Javier had done a quick turn to make sure the door hadn’t been his own. When his eyes returned to yours, the resignation that he would be showering alone had already been there. 

“Alright, fine.” Another deep kiss with just enough teeth to it to let you know he was anything but fine with it. “Five minutes.”

Five minutes. It has to have been five minutes by now. 

As if on cue, you hear the water shut off, the sound of metal curtain rings being dragged forcefully along the rod, a brief pause, the sound of one door opening and then another. 

You’re not sure you even register the sound of his bedroom door shutting again before everything zeros in on him. All he’s wearing is a towel, hung low across his waist, though he seems to have barely taken time to use it. His hair is just roughly dried, water droplets still on his skin. His eyes are already dark when they find you on his bed.

You collide somewhere in the middle, with you halfway off the bed and him halfway on. He barely pauses when he connects with you, his arm wrapping around your waist and carrying you through the rest of his trajectory to the center of the bed. Your shirt is already clinging to your skin before he gets the chance to tug it off, water from his bare chest absorbed into the soft fabric. Your jeans are next, the button popped loose with a flick of his fingers before he drags them down your legs. Then you’re on your back, his hands racing down your body. 

You arch into him with a quiet moan, your mouth seeking his. He smells so good. He always smells so good. His own scent now mixing with the smell of soap and the taste of mint. You can feel yourself getting lost in it, slipping happily into the sensation of being surrounded by him.

No, you said tonight. You want to do this tonight.

Your hands push at his shoulders once and then again a bit harder, and he rolls onto his back while rolling you on top of him. You straddle him, the towel now lost and only the thin fabric of your underwear separating you. You roll your hips against him, feeling him hard and ready beneath you before you bend down to cup his face in your hands. Your mouth presses against his, soft and sweet, as you try to settle yourself, and you feel his brow furrow against yours. His hands move to cradle your back as he sits up with you.

“You alright?” He murmurs against your mouth, and you nod, breathy and nervous again.

“Yeah, I just, um..” You tangle your fingers in his wet hair as your lips move from his mouth to his jaw. “There’s something I want to do.”

His shoulders release some of their tension, and he tips his head back to give you better access. “What do you want, bonita?”

You reach the crook of his neck and nuzzle in for just a moment before you place an open mouthed kiss along his shoulder and start to move lower. “I, um…” 

You’re halfway down his chest, your palms on his shoulders, before his hands wrap around your upper arms and pull you back up. His right hand releases you so he can cup your jaw and make your eyes meet his.

“What do you want?” he asks you, his eyes warm and searching. “Tell me.” He’s always so patient with you.

“I want you…” You answer him softly, your voice trailing off before you can get the rest out. His head tilts to the side, probably trying to understand what you could possibly mean when he had been halfway to having you before you had made him slow down.

Your eyes drop from his as you try to get the words out. Why does this have you so worked up? It’s like you’re tripping over yourself. 

His mouth meets yours, coaxing, his tongue lazily stroking the seam of your lips until you part for him. He captures your bottom lip then, nipping lightly, and the hand that’s still on your arm starts making soothing passes up and down. 

“Where do you want me, bonita? Is that the better question?” He murmurs to you. His hand is still on your jaw as you quietly nod, and your own hands grasp his and shift it higher. When his thumb brushes your lips, you open, your tongue tracing it before you wrap your lips around it and suck.

He hisses out a breath, his hips involuntarily jerking beneath you as he shifts you in his lap. “You want me in your mouth, cariño? That what you want?” He drags his thumb from your mouth, swiping the wet tip against your bottom lip. 

“I just, um, I don’t really know…” You confess. “Can you tell…teach me? What you like?”

His eyes squeeze shut, a ragged breath in and out. When his eyes open again, it’s only halfway as he studies you. “Fuck, you’re killing me.” He kisses you, hard, the hand that had been on your jaw edging back to bury itself in the hair at the nape of your neck as you grip his arm. “Yes, baby, I’ll teach you.”

You let out a soft whine as a shot of need spikes through you, almost like you had been waiting for confirmation that you would be getting what you want. You lean forward to kiss him again right above his pulse point, feeling the rapid beat.

You go slowly, Javier leaning back on his arms as you start to work your way down his chest. There are still drops of water on his skin that haven’t been wiped away by you or his sheets, and you lap them up with your tongue wherever you find them. When you capture one along his side, just beneath his ribs, his muscles tense and you see his fingers curl more firmly into his quilt. Your eyes flick up to meet his, and the want in them makes your breath catch.

You need to do this more. Take time studying every inch of him so you can commit it to memory.  Every rise and fall, every place that he’s sensitive, every piece that makes him…him. 

You shift again, crawling backward, and he adjusts so that you can settle into the open space between his legs. His hard length is lying flush against the soft swell of his stomach as you lower yourself, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding as you draw close. When you look up at him once more, his eyes are on you from beneath his dark lashes, his teeth digging into his bottom lip.

There’s a bead of moisture on the tip, and you’re not sure if it’s still from the shower or from him before you reach out to lick it up just as you had the others. The salty taste that immediately hits your tongue and the way he moans tells you that it’s him, and you do it again, then again in hopes that he’ll give you more. 

“Fuck,” Javier murmurs as he groans and rolls his head back. “Cariño, you seem to be doing just fine on your own. That good?”

You nod, your mouth still close enough that your lips brush up and down the underside of his length. Since he seems to like it, you repeat the movement with your tongue, a broad and firm stripe up before you return to the sensitive head. You wrap your lips around him and suckle lightly.

“That’s it. Good girl, fuck, just like that.” His words zing through you and settle right between your thighs making you squeeze them together. You’re tempted to slip your hand between them to give yourself some relief but instead you wrap it around his base, your fingers not quite touching. 

Fuck, he’s so big. How will you even take him in your mouth?

“You can grip a little harder, baby,” he tells you softly, more of a suggestion than a demand. You’re quick to follow but hesitate when you worry you’ll hurt him. He sits up a little more, still bracing himself on one hand while his other reaches down to cover yours. He squeezes. “You feel that? How tight?”

You nod again, breaking your gaze away from the sight of his hand enveloping yours so you can see his face. 

“That’s how tight you squeeze me when I’m buried inside you, little thing.” His hand starts to move yours slowly up and down, and you swallow hard as you watch him. He lets out an uneven exhale. “Feels good, baby, just like that.”

You dip your head again to lick up the moisture leaking from the tip, and his hand tightens even harder over yours when you take the head of him back into your mouth. When you start to suck, he rotates his wrist slightly, guiding you to do the same as you continue to work him up and down. You don’t stop when he takes his hand away. 

“Fuck, bonita, so good. So good for me.” His breathing is coming in quick pants, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he watches you.

You’re practically vibrating from the praise, the ache between your thighs nothing when you have the chance to hear more of it. Feeling bolder, you start to sink down on him, letting the smooth hard skin stroke your tongue before you pull back up. He moans, one of his hands burying itself in your hair, holding it back and away from your face. On the next dip down, you go lower.

Your progress is steady, taking him a little deeper each time. He keeps shifting slightly beneath you, low sounds escaping even when he manages to keep his movements restrained. Still every once in a while his hips roll, his hand tugs. Every once in a while his control slips. You like it when it does.

You’re breathing through your nose, taking in the spiced scent of him and the clean smell of soap as you press closer, your mouth almost brushing your still moving hand. You get so lost in the rhythm, the feeling of him overwhelming you, the taste of him on your tongue, that you slip a little farther down than you’d intended. You choke, cough as you hit your gag reflex and pull away. 

“Sorry,” you mutter as your cheeks flush suck in a breath.

“Sorry?” he croons to you. “I can barely keep it together, cariño.” He leans forward to cup the back of your head and pull you closer so he can kiss your forehead. “You’re perfect, baby, just go slow.”

You settle back between his legs and try again, going slower this time like he said. You move your hand away from the base to cup him lower, massaging gently and swallowing back the urge to gag again when you go as deep as you can. You swallow, your nose brushing the wiry hair at the base and your exhaled breath drifting through it as you hold and hold even as your jaw begins to ache.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He pulls you off of him fast, rougher than you’re used to him handling you, and a thrill goes up your spine as he drags you back up into his lap. 

“Did I do something wrong?” You ask, your voice shaky.

“Fuck, you’re going to make me fucking come.” He reaches for the drawer of his nightstand, hand fumbling for a condom as you smile, wrap your arms around his neck, and nestle into his chest. Once he has one, you lift up, giving him space to roll it on, and you’re about to move to the side so you can slip off your panties when he pulls you back, tugs the fabric to the side with a quick efficiency and slips two fingers inside as you moan at the stretch.

“Stay right here. Going to fucking lose it.” His fingers start to thrust shallowly in and out. “Fuck you are dripping.” His free hand grabs your chin so that your face is an inch from his. “You’re perfect, you understand?” 

You lean in so he’ll kiss you, but instead he slips his fingers out. You panic, afraid he might leave you on this edge. “Wait, yes, I understand…”

“Good.” He lines himself up and starts pushing in. “Look at you. Already ready to take me. You get this turned on sucking my cock, cariño?” 

You whimper as you start to move with him, making slow progress as you sink down that reminds you of the way you took him in your mouth. You groan.

“Going to have to get you to learn to use those words as your next lesson, bonita.” He thrusts into you, deep and to the hilt, and you gasp as he hits the spot deep inside that makes you see stars, but then he stops moving again.

“Javi,” you plead with him, “move.” 

He does, but it’s a slow rock into you that’s not nearly enough. “You need something more, cariño? Tell me.”

“Please,” you murmur, trying to rotate your hips on your own. “Harder.” The change is immediate, his thrusts punching into you as your head falls back. “Yes, just like that. Fuck, Javi.”

“There you go, bonita. Taking it so well.” He nips his way down the side of your neck. “What else will you tell me if I keep letting you ride my cock, hm? That what it takes to get you to use your words?”

“Mm.” You can feel it dragging you under, that climax that had been building since you’d climbed in through his window. Maybe before. “What do you—” He rewards you again with a snap of his hips. “What do you want to hear?”

“I want to hear you ask for what you wanted earlier. I want to hear you say it.” His hands move to your back, undoing the clasp of your bra before helping you slip it off and toss it to the side. His wide palms support you as he leans you back, your hands returning to their favorite place in his hair as his mouth finds you. Teeth graze your nipple, before he wraps his lips around the hardened peak, and you keen.

“I—I wanted…” His movements start to slow, and you get the rest out in a rush. “I wanted your cock in my mouth. I wanted to taste you, wanted to make you feel good, and…” One of his hands drifts down to hover over your clit. “And I wanted you to fuck me.”

He grins against your skin. You can feel it. “Good girl.”

His fingers rub your clit as his mouth captures your other breast and his pace quickens just slightly, and it’s enough…more than enough. You come, clinging to him, and biting your lip to keep from crying out from the force of it. 

He’s not far behind you, seemed to only be holding on as long as you did. He grips you tight as he lets go, moving until the height of it passes, then he slowly falls back with you so that you’re once again lying on top of him.

Several long minutes pass before you’ve caught your breath. When you have, you fold your arms across his chest, raise up and peer down at him. He looks sleepy but satisfied, eyes drifting closed and the corner of his mouth turned up.  

“What are you thinking about, bonita?” He asks, his hand starting to draw lazy circles on your bare back.

You press your mouth against his chest, a mischievous smile playing at your lips. “I was thinking about what other things you might like to teach me.”

His eyes open wider, and he raises his head enough that his gaze locks with yours. “Bonita, I will teach you anything you want to learn. All you have to do is ask.”