Horny Drunk I
Camila
I was a natural worrier and I blamed mamá for it.
Watching her worry for others as a child had led me to develop her habit of over worrying. So now every time I grew anxious about Ethan hurting himself or Alejandro overworking himself, the worrying would get worse.
It was learned behavior that I couldn't shake.
But I couldn't help it, the last few days had passed by in a blur and Alejandro seemed way too busy these days to even pay me or his health any mind.
Aside from the good morning pecks on my cheek that he was now fully comfortable giving, I barely got any time to chat with him before he was running off to a meeting or on a call, leaving his breakfast half eaten.
There were some nights where he would return well past midnight with Ethan, and those were the worst for my anxiety.
Two of the most important people in my life gone while I was left to worry.
One night Ethan and Alejandro had gotten in well past two in the morning, I only knew because I was in the kitchen warming myself some milk when they both strolled in looking beyond exhausted.
I saw them before they did me, and I caught a glimpse of the multiple guns Alejandro was tossing away onto the counter.
All I could do at that moment was stare at them wide eyed, my body growing rigid. Of course when they noticed me, both men immediately moved them away from my sight, thinking I didn't see.
But I did.
And the idea of them actually using them was even worse. I couldn't even bare to think about it.
I tried to calm down and remin civil, I had a moment with Alejandro and I hadn't seen him properly in days but then I caught the splatter of red on the sleeve of his dress shirt, and I couldn't.
I hastily excused myself as I ran to my room, forcing myself to take calming breaths until my mind drifted away from the thoughts of what they were up to.
It took some time to get use to the thought of them being so heavily involved in criminal activities. And maybe I was lucky to be sheltered away from any violence, but it made it harder to process.
The last time I was exposed to any form of violence was that horrifying night. One I never wanted to think of because when I did, all I saw was the gun, the blood and then papa's lifeless eyes.
I hated violence and the thought of something like that happening again to someone I loved kept me up at night.
But Alejandro was not like that. He wasn't a ruthless killer.
Alejandro was sweet, gentle and caring.
I scolded myself for ever thinking badly about Alejandro and the prospect of fearing him.
He was the same man that cuddled me in his sleep. The same man that protected me from the real villains. The same man that took me in when mamá was taken from me.
I hated myself for avoiding him the past few days for that night. Maybe he wasn't aware of it or bothered by it, but I figured it was time to see him.
Glancing at the clock on my nightstand, I note the time - 12:56. It's well past midnight but it's not like Alejandro would be asleep.
Throwing my feet over the bed, I get up, adjusting my silk nightie before making my way down the hall towards Alejandro's door that's cracked open.
I hesitantly push it open. "Alejandro?" I call out softly, peering in the dimly lit room to see his bed still made.
I look across the room - the lit fireplace being the only source of light in the dark room - to see a figure seated at one of the armchairs near the fireplace.
Alejandro's seated, his legs spread out in front of him, as he throws back a glass of what seems to be rum, his throat muscles contracting at the action. He places the glass back down next to the half empty bottle and I frown, noting how tired and worn out he looks.
He's still in his white button down, only it looks like he was in the process of taking it off with the way the majority of the buttons are undone, and his sleeves folded up. His clothes are wrinkly and his hair is a mess.
I walk closer, observing him like I would a bomb. "Is everything okay, Alejandro?"
He looks up at me, his eyes bloodshot and puffy as he rubs at them tirelessly. My heart sinks at the sight of the man that takes care of everyone but himself.
"Can I get you anything?" I ask, coming closer.
He sighs and shakes his head resting it in his hands. "No. I'm fine, Camila."
I frown, he didn't look fine.
I pad closer, my feet softly hitting the wood until I stand before him, in between his legs. He slowly lifts his head and stares up at me through his dark lashes blinking slowly and tiredly. The sight is so heartbreaking I can't take it anymore.
"Come here." I sigh as I move closer, bringing my hands up to bury them in his hair. The action almost an instinct in an attempt to bring him some comfort.
He doesn't protest, not as I slowly wind my fingers in his scalp and not as I start to lightly massage. He simply lets his head tip forward and rest against my stomach as he slumps forward, sighing out against my stomach.
We don't speak, nor do I attempt to make conversation as he digs his head into the silk of my nightie against my stomach while my fingers still work against his scalp. The only noises being the cracking of the fireplace and his soft breathing.
After a while, I speak in a soft whisper. "Alejandro?"
He hums against my stomach, his shoulders dropping, allowing him to further slump against me as I stand before his seated form.
"Tell me what's the matter," I whisper pulling his head up by his hair. I tilt his face up so that his chin rests on my belly and he's looking up at me.
He blinks up at me for a while, his eyes droopy and swimming with exhaustion. He sighs and tilts his head back down to bury it in my stomach. "I feel like a fuck up." He sighs and tilts his head back down to bury it in my stomach. "I'm ruining everything my father built." He mumbles, his voice muffled against my silk nightie.
I could tell he was drunk, with the way he was slurring all his words.
I tilt his head back up and look down into his vulnerable eyes. Alejandro was the furthest thing from a fuck up.
"Your men have the utmost respect for you." I stress, shaking my head and furrowing my brows at how he could think so lowly of himself. "Not just because they fear you, but because they genuinely appreciate and value all you do for them. You single handedly take care of everything." I demand softly, dipping my head down to stare at him in the eye.
He blinks a few times and when I think he's understood my words, he gives an unconvinced groan, burying his face back into my belly.
But I'm not having it.
I pull his head back up and stare at him in the eye. "I would know because you do a pretty good job at taking care of me." I say, smiling softly. "I've never felt this safe and protected with anyone else before." I then bring my hands to the sides of his face before letting my thumbs caress his cheeks.
I note the overgrown stubble on his jaw, telling me he's most likely skipped his morning routine for the past few days and my fingers instinctively move to trace over it.
"Really?" He mumbles his voice soft and eyes swimming with vulnerability.
"I swear." I nod. "I don't just go around praising anyone. So don't you think for a second that you're a fuck up." I say sternly lifting his face up higher and dipping mine down. "Got it?"
He blinks up at me before nodding, a small hesitant smile on his face. "Yes ma'am." He mumbles the corners of his lips twitching up.
His chin is perched on my belly as he grins up at me and the sight of it causes a smile of my own as I stare back into his beautiful brown eyes.
"What did I do to deserve you, huh?" He questions, sending me a lopsided drunk smile.
I bite my lip to stop my smile from growing as my fingers dance across his cheeks. "I don't know? You must have done something great because I'm a fucking treasure." I mumble looking up to the ceiling and giggling.
When I don't hear a response, I look down to see him staring up at me, an indescribable look in his eyes and a heart stopping smile on his lips. "Sì, you are my tesoro." He says softly and I find myself blushing. (Treasure)
This man doesn't even know what he does to me.
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