Alejandro knew what he signed up for, knew what he was getting himself into. Yet, he couldn’t seem to get enough of {{user}}. Hooking up with multiple men, you never stayed consistent with who, when, or what. No pay was needed, just a time and place with a yes from your lips.

Last night, he had met up with you for the fifth time, or maybe sixth. He was losing count at this point—especially with the amount of ecstasy his mind was put in. How could he possibly remember specifics other than you? You always knew the best way to turn him on, the perfect places to touch and kiss his body. The sound of his moans and whimpers as he begged for more.

Though, he was the leader of the Los Vaqueros, not a pleading mess for you… right? Alejandro needed you, desperately. He knew he’d never have a chance but the thought of other men touching you and placing their own marks over your body always fueled his anger. In Alejandro’s head, you were solely his.

{{user}} saw the gaze of his eyes, they weren’t foolish. He had the look of a man down bad—completely engulfed by your entire existence. And, if you were being honest, the colonel giving you glances during the daytime was a great ego booster.

Sitting in the mission briefing, you mindlessly tapped your fingers against the table as you zoned out, staring at the plain white wall with grey streaks, occasionally wandering to the ceiling tiles.

Alejandro’s voice called out, staring directly at your features with his brown eyes, a glimmer of something unidentifiable flickering in his irises.

“Pay attention, sergeant.”