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Carlos Oliveira loves you with his whole body. Quite genuinely, every inch of his being, every fibre that runs through his hands and every nerve that shoots around his legs burns and aches only for you. To that extent, Carlos would absolutely, 100% trust you not only with his life, but with the heart he has very willingly given over to you as well. It’s euphoria, but at the same time, there’s still something in the pit of his stomach. Some burning fire, some dark tendrils that twist sometimes and make him bite his tongue with the pain - some voice whispering in the back of his head that he doesn’t deserve this. Not after what he’s done, not after the atrocities he’s seen.
Although he acts all confident and suave, deep down Carlos still doesn’t believe, after all these years, that he could ever deserve to even have the chance of loving someone as exquisite as you.
His jealousy doesn’t rear its head very often - most of the times he’s able to suffocate it back down his throat and just put on a brave smile. On rare occasions, though, he finds himself in jealousy’s claws, and he just becomes pouty and sad more than anything. He doesn’t like feeling this way. He detests the thought that someone could so easily rip away from him the one good thing in his life, the one thing he would willingly bear every scar, every injury, every ounce of pain the world could give over and over again for.
The greatest example was just after the hellhole that turned out to be Raccoon City and its lovely zombie residents. After the bomb completely wiped out the place, and along with it all the work the two of you had done to try and save everyone, Carlos decided a little time off was what was needed. Sure, he had some vengeance to enact against the Umbrella Corporation, but you were more important. Especially after the countless nightmares, where you would wake up screaming in his arms. Just thrashing against his chest as he held you tightly in the most comforting grip he could muster, gently petting your head and trying to stop his own tears from falling at how hurt you were.
He decided the best course of action was to just spend some time together - pick a little, quiet town and move into a small, but cosy apartment. Still raw, still scared, but still with each other, the two of you could just spend some time testing out a normal life. He thought it would be fun to take you out to the local ice cream parlour, as he’s always liked the idea of sharing a milkshake with someone you loved, no matter how cheesy it sounded.
What he didn’t like as much, however, was returning to your booth by the window with a chocolate milkshake in hand, only to see some random guy - not any of the regulars the two of you had become familiar over the months - no, some complete stranger sitting on the cracked cushion beside you. His elbow resting on the table, he hadn’t even spotted Carlos yet, but you had.
Quickly excusing yourself, you manage to force the man back up and out onto the open floor, straight into the tall back of a very furious looking Carlos. Gulping, the man was quick in trying to make excuses for his actions, but Carlos just ignored him completely. Instead, he turned his full attention to you, placing the milkshake down on the stained table and instead filling his large palms with your hips.
Once he’s given you a reassuring squeeze, his arm snakes its way around your waist until you have to nudge him gently and let him know you can barely breathe. You know it’s his way of protecting you, always the soldier - pulling you tight into his side until you can feel his bicep quivering against the top of your back, acting as a barrier between you and the very nervous looking man.
His words will sound innocent as he asks, still so tenderly despite how poker still he is, if ‘you’re alright, my love?’ His words are directed at you, but his eyes are still glaring daggers into this other man, until eventually the guy decides to test his luck and just make a run for the door.
It’s times like these when you can see the trained soldier in his countenance, the way he holds himself. He’s still frozen in place beside you, eyes darting about as if scanning the surrounding area for threats, and you know that right now he needs you as much as you need him. So, you gently lean over and tell him it’s okay, trying to cup his face and turn his chin until he’s finally looking into your eyes. You notice the fear in them, the uncertainty despite how tight his fingers are against your side, and so you just take a moment to lift your finger up and stroke a few locks of stray curls back behind his ears, until he’s calmed down again.
He’s the one that actually wants to stay and finish your now melting drink, because he immediately goes into apologetic mode; he feels embarrassed and bad at becoming so jealous so quickly. You’re the one who drags him out the door by his taut bicep, the little bell ringing above your heads as he hops out after you and follows you down the neon-lit street back home.
Sometimes you just need to show this pouty, cocky boy how much you love him. How worthy he is to feel loved like this.
Before you can even pull the key back out of your front door, Carlos has pounced on you. Placing a leg in between your thighs, he’s pinned you against the wall in your small entryway, hands roaming slowly under the hem of your shirt and against your bare stomach. With his lips still pressed tightly against yours, he growls against your mouth as he suddenly moves, changing instead to grab your wrists and pin them above your head. Sloppily leaning down to kiss your neck, his hands drop until they’ve cupped the underside of your thighs, digging his fingernails in until you’ve lifted your leg up and straddled his bucking hip.
‘I’m going to make sure baby’, he mutters against your lips as he lifts you up and carries you over to the sofa in his strong arms, ‘that you never forget how well I can worship you.’
When he’s finally cooled down, please just stroke his hair when he ends up flopped over you on the couch, chest heaving and warm panting still coming out lodged from his throat. He’ll just collapse on top of you, murmuring about ‘how much I love you’ and ‘you’re so perfect’ and ‘too good for me’, and only settles when you draw your fingers through the wild stubbly baby hairs at the nape of his neck.
Bonus, he just loves to rest his head on your strong, thick thighs, his eyes glowing with merriment every so often when you lean over him and just leisurely brush your lips against his bottom one. Literally drives him wild.
Oooh or when you finally get him up, he changes into nothing but a pair of pyjama bottoms that lie lax just underneath the brim of his hip. And he’ll just lean against the edge of the doorway gazing adoringly at you with his arms crossed, hair falling across his eyes but he’s too tired to move it until you finally just rush towards him and tumble him backwards onto the bed.
Please just straddle his waist and sit on his lap. He likes to feel your weight on top of him, it just makes him feel safe and reassures him that you’re really there.
You’ll have to spend the night with his ear laying flat against your chest, holding up his head tightly within the brackets of your arms. Your hands manage to just reach over the broad expanse of his back, rubbing the muscles up and down until you can feel him shivering underneath your touch.
‘I love you so much too Carlos, I swear we’ll be alright. We are alright.’
Just whisper sweet nothings against the top of his forehead, or against the shell of his other ear until he breaks out in goose bumps and grunts hoarsely against you. His arms tighten around your back, the duvet pooling around your shared waists as he just thanks every lucky star he can in his head that he’s here with some as ethereal as you.
He’s a tight hugger, though, so don’t expect him to let go any time soon. Or if he had it his way, ever.