Forgot to Tell You

Disclaimer:

For readers

18 and older

.

All characters depicted are

18 and older

.

This is a work of fiction.

Any resemblance

to real persons is

purely coincidental

unless explicitly stated within the story.

Content Warnings:

This series will explore

niche taboo themes

, including but not limited to:

Cheating / Cuckolding

Reluctance

Body betrayal

Pain-pleasure dynamics

Anal / Painal

Power imbalances / Control

Tags:

Mexican wife, White husband, NTR, voyeur, happy marriage, policeman, interracial marriage, athletic blonde, slow burn, lpn

This is going to be a slow burn.

*** *** *** *** ***

Chapter 1

"I'm so glad you're back!" Ailin ran up to Noah and jumped up to hug him. "I missed you so much! I love you!"

She hung onto his neck and wrapped her legs around his waist. He grunted and took a step back to steady himself, but he smiled. Every day that he got home from work before the sun went down and she was home, his wife reacted the same way, like she was waiting the entire day to see him. He hugged her back, putting his head into her neck, inhaling the coconut smell of her blonde hair. Against his arms, he felt the strong muscles on her back when he squeezed her tight.

"I love you, too, baby doll."

It was her turn to grunt and then delightfully squeak when he spun with her encased in his arms. He had learned to take off his gear and badge in the locker room before going home when she had first moved in over five years ago.

It was right before they got married, she had accidentally hit the panic button on his radio. Being one of the younger policemen at the time, he had taken so much shit for months after that. He didn't stop doing paperwork until three months later when he got married. That had been his former captain's wedding present.

It always made Noah sad to think about Captain Ruiz. That old bastard always busted his balls for every mistake he made ever since he was a rookie at twenty-three, but he always did it with the intention of making Noah learn how to be a better officer. Captain Ruiz was such a great father figure for Noah, it was such a shame that he had died only a year into retirement. To this day, Noah still credited him for guiding him to where he was now, a Sergeant.

"I made you

quesabirria

." Noah's mouth instantly watered. Then he thought,

she only makes that for me when she wants something

.

If anyone looked at Ailin, they would never expect her to be anything other than a European white woman, maybe even German-American like Noah, because of her blonde hair and porcelain skin, but she was a

güera

. A white Mexican. Being the only one in her large family to take after her grandmother on her dad's side, she had grown up constantly getting bullied in that lovingly hateful way only latino families can pull-of. They called her Casper, a mennonite, geisha, and güera. And when her more Americanized cousins used to visit her when she still lived in Santa Isabel, Chihuahua during her middle school years, they would call her McLovin. Because she was a pasty white nerd.

Luckily for her, the bullying had worked in her favor, at least physically. They had motivated her to work so hard on herself that when she moved to the United States for high school, she was involved in every sport she could be every year. For four years she had played on the volleyball team during the fall, the basketball team during the winter, and she was a track star during the spring. She had stayed away from soccer because she really didn't want to fall into the stereotype.

He looked at her suspiciously, an amused grin on his face, "what do you want you honey-trapper?"

She started pulling him by his hand into the house, "nothing! Can't I just do something nice for you because I love you?"

Hmmm

, he wondered out loud, letting her know he was skeptical, but he didn't push it. Once inside, she didn't even let him put his backpack in the study as she dragged him to the table. He watched her through narrowed eyes as she moved around the kitchen grabbing things and putting them on the table. When she noticed the salt shaker was empty, he watched her reach for the refill container at the top of the cabinet. He made to go help her, but the rustle of his clothes caused her to turn around.

"

No mi amor

, relax! I'll get it." She smiled sweetly at him and jumped to reach it, landing softly on the balls of her feet.

Noah laughed, she wasn't really that short, she was 5'6", but the top counter was so high up that she always--well

nearly

always now--asked him to grab things for her from there. He was a little over 6', so it wasn't a big deal, he had been reaching all the high places for everyone since he was a sophomore in high school. So her not letting him help her is what finally convinced him there was something fishy going on.

She thinks she's slick

, he thought, smiling a knowing smile while shaking his head.

When she had finally finished grabbing everything they needed to start eating, he had three quesabirria tacos sitting on a plate with the birria broth on the left, the toppings above, and her famous habanero salsa on the right. He grabbed some of the cilantro and diced onion, putting a generous amount on his tacos. Then he grabbed one of the plastic spoons from the center of the table and used it to put a light amount of salsa. He would never admit it to Ailin, but the habanero always made him have the runs for the next day or two despite how delicious the salsa was. Then, like he had been taught by Ailin's brother and father, he drowned the taco into the broth. When he pulled it out, the copious amount of broth dripped from the drenched taco, coating his fingers, and then running down his wrists. Ailin

always

hated that and she shuddered, imagining the broth run down her own skin, but she didn't say anything now.

He noticed she hadn't even served herself yet and was just staring at him intently.

"Aren't you going to serve yourself?"

"I am." she smiled.

When she didn't go do just that, he gave her a concerned look.

"I just want to see the look on your face when you bite into it. I think I made them even better this time!" She seemed excited, but still, Noah

felt

something was off.

He looked at the taco in his hand, pulling it closer to his eyes and scanned.

"Did you poison them?" he teased.

"

Mch

," Ailin's trademark annoyed noise almost made a smile break through his mock-concerned face and she smacked his arm.

"Who are

you

all of a sudden? My

dad

?" she scowled, but when Noah looked back at the taco, still concerned, she scoffed, "of course not! Just take a bite,

¡Dios mío, que exagerado

!"

She had grown up catholic, so invoking God's name let Noah know she was serious.

Noah opened his mouth, taking a massive bite while Ailin watched him like a hawk. She saw his temples tense with the first chew, then the second. He seemed to move the food in his mouth, savoring it. But then he blinked and looked up at her, raising his eyebrows. A question formed in his eyes but then the flavors hit before he could ask it. First, it was the combination of the spicy salsa, the bitterness of the onions, and the fresh and planty citrus of the cilantro. Then it was the combination of the stripped beef, the melty cheese, and the fried, almost crunchy tortilla punctuated by the oily broth.

Finally, he swallowed and

rolled

his eyes.

"

Mmmmm

!"

Ailin smiled so big that it looked like it was going to reach her ears.

"

Sí amor

? That good?" She leaned in, looking into his eyes, ready to

swoop

in and strike.

"Oh my god, baby doll, these are the best ones yet! I swear to God!" He expected the scolding he usually got when he profaned the Lord's name in front of his wife, but it didn't come.

"You're not just saying that to make me happy, right?" She asked, genuine hope plastered on her face.

"No baby, I'm telling you. These. Are. Amazing!" He readied himself for another massive bite, dipping the taco into the broth again

"Excellent!" She clapped excitedly before finally getting to it, "because I just got off the phone with my mom and we talked about the gb word. You know, a grandbaby?"

Noah stopped himself from taking another bite and looked at her in mock shock, he

knew

this was suspicious. Every time Ailin got off a call with Maria something like this would

always

happen.

"Gosh dang it! I knew it!" He pointed at her accusingly, half genuine betrayal and half amused, "you were just trying to butter me up like a thanksgiving ham. You sweet talking, delicious food making...Delilah!" He looked at her with that mischievous smile of his that always caught her attention, "you...you...

bruja

!" When he said it, he tried to say it with as decent of a Mexican accent as he could muster, but his southern, German-American genes were far too strong to let him.

Uhhhhh

, she gasped, an amused shock splayed her face, "Noah Benjamín Wagner!" She used the Spanish pronunciation for his middle name.

His eyes went wide before they started laughing together.

After a few minutes, she spoke up again, "

amor, enserio

! This is serious!"

He cleared his throat and wiped the tears from his blue eyes, "baby doll, we

talked

about this."

She pouted, "noooo, you talked. I listened. Now I want to talk and for

you

to listen!" Her bottom lip quivered.

He sighed, but still his face softened and he raised his eyebrows expectantly.

"Look, I'm twenty-six already. My sister Ana just had her second

mocoso

! She's only twenty-one! Aldo is on his fourth and Alicia is due next month! She's only eighteen!

All

my cousins, except for the little ones, already have kids! I'm the only one in the family over eighteen who doesn't!" She thought for a second, "even some of the teenagers already have a baby!" She crossed her arms, her eyebrows furrowed, determined.

"Baby, look. I know how important this is to you, to your family...but we can't afford this right now. Between the car loans, the mortgage for this place, the bills, AND our student loans? We're barely breaking even after groceries." He ran his hands through his slicked back hair, anxiety building in his stomach. "We don't qualify for food stamps, we don't have anyone to help us..." he shrugged, supplicating with his hands for her to understand, "we can't afford a baby. You know I want them, too. We just can't."

Ailin's lips half-curled as if she was going to snarl. Her eyes were angry, but tears welled in them, seemingly quelling the fire.

"I know that! But,

aachh

--" she groaned, "we'll figure it out. We always do! We need this! I need this! I want to be a mother, so bad." The tears were pouring down the slopes of her beautifully puffy, high-set cheeks, "I want to hold

our

baby boy--or girl--" she quickly added, "and see you!"

"Well when we have babies I hope they look more like you," Noah muttered.

"They

need

to look like you!" She had raised her voice a little, something Noah wasn't used to from her, then she broke down, "I'm sorry! It's just that, with everything going on...something's always happening. And you know how I feel about everything, but you're a good person, a good cop! And I pray--Diosito mío knows how much time I spend praying--that you make it back home to me every day! But what if one of these psychos that's on the news hurts you? Or what if--" a sob interrupted her, her breath hitching in her throat.

"Baby doll, it's okay! I'm right here. Look," he sighed, "I know it's dangerous, I'm out there every day. I see what happens on the news firsthand. But--" he measured his words, carefully picking out the best response he could, "I do my best every day to prepare myself to avoid that, or hopefully in the worst case scenario, mitigate the damage. You know how hard I train on the mats, how much I run so I don't run out of steam when shit hits the fan. You know how much time I spend at the range every week. I do it because I want to--I need to come home to you. If I died now, I'd have to wait until you're nearly a hundred to ever see you again. You dang

abuelitas

always live so long." He joked, making her laugh.

He smiled at that to keep the panic inside.

She

knew

Reinhard had done horrible things to his psyche. But she didn't

understand

any of it. Noah had never let her into that part of him. The extent of Reinhard's depravity before the old bastard had remarried and how much it impacted Noah. He struggled with that every day.

But that wasn't her fault.

She didn't know what to look for. Her family experience was too different--loving, caring, community, all to a toxic degree. She couldn't possibly understand how he felt...even if he did try to explain, could she?

That, and why he was so scared of becoming a father--he didn't know how to be one.

When Ailin looked at him, she saw the future father of her children. But when he looked at himself, all he could see was his father's son.

He needed to tell her, he should tell her. About Reinhard, about their fucked up dynamic, about everything the old bastard made him witness. But he didn't. Eventually he might try to make her understand everything. Everything but the fear of being a father. He would carry that to his grave.

"Look baby, I understand how you feel. And we will try

soon

, I promise. Just give us time to pay off at least the cars, then we can talk about it, okay? Just be patient with me, baby."

She sniffed and looked at her hands, rubbing them like she was trying to clean off a persistent stain. She wouldn't be able to.

Then she looked up, "okay."

She tried to smile, but it was more of a slight grimace. Noah hugged her tight and then gently cupped her face in his hands. He dried the tears with his thumbs, lightly rubbing her cheeks at the same time. Ailin smiled genuinely this time, a sad smile, but a smile nonetheless. He leaned in to kiss her softly and they lingered like that for several seconds before finally pulling apart.

"Let's eat baby." This time

he

stood up to serve her a plate of tacos, while she remained seated instead and just stared at the chair he had been sitting in.

It was as empty as she felt in that moment.

He tried his best not to make a sound as he opened the cabinet to get one of their flowery plates, and then served her two tacos. In a bowl, he only served her a little bit of broth, knowing she wouldn't finish any more than that. When he finally sat down, her eyes regained focus and she tried to smile at him but it was forced. And both of them knew it.

They ate without a word; only the sound of her frequent sniffles broke the silence.

*

Noah

"Wagner!" The perpetual buzz of the records room broke with the thunderous roar of the police chief.

He was an older man in his late sixties, but with only some salt in his pepper hair, he didn't look a day over forty-five. The rumors were that he had been on TRT and cycling EPO for almost a decade, among anything else that he could do safely--well, relatively safely. But he swore up and down it was just the carnivore diet and near manic levels of exercise. It was plausible, with how muscular the chief was, but not likely. His face was always red and his head had gone up a couple gallons in hat sizes, something commonly associated with TRT. Besides, he watched JRE, which was a dead ringer for middle-aged men trying to hang onto their prime by any means.

"Where's that Aryan bastard at?" Some of the rookies paled in shock, but the veterans just smiled and shook their heads at Chief Calderon's language.

"Sir? You called for me?" Sergeant Wagner startled the chief, coming from behind him. The chief looked down to see what Wagner had in his arms: he was carrying a fresh coffee mug in one hand and a Bang energy drink in the other with a stack of papers tucked under his arm. He raised his thick eyebrows as he looked back at Wagner's face; the sergeant's eyes were redder than the devil's cock and his left eyelid was twitching. The poor bastard was on his thirteenth hour on shift getting ready to do paperwork instead of going home and doing it when he got back the next day.

But what Calderon didn't know was that Wagner didn't really want to go home today, not after yesterday's conversation with Ailin.

For a brief moment, Calderon smiled under his thick mustache. This was

precisely

why Wagner had been on his radar since becoming Sergeant three years ago. The man was always working tirelessly, doing his paperwork in a timely manner, and still showing up for his next shift on time looking like a million dollars--well, maybe only a few thousand right now. But then when he saw the confused, derpy smile on Wagner's face, Calderon remembered he had to be tough on his officers, so his usual scowl returned almost instantaneously.

It was like whiplash for Wagner, seeing the chief smile at him, then immediately look pissed again. His own smile disappeared and he tried to hide how hard he gulped. He started to feel the anxiety building in his stomach again and his heart was pounding. But maybe it wasn't the anxiety, maybe it was the half can of Bang hitting his stomach after he had chugged it in the breakroom.

"Get your ass in my office, Sergeant!" Everyone's eyes widened at this. Wagner was never called into the office because he was never in trouble. They stared at both of the tall men as they walked out of the room and down the hall towards the supervisor offices.

"Sir, should I be worried?" Wagner asked, eyes wide like a scared child.

The duality of Sergeant Wagner was such an oddity, nearly paradoxical. One thing was being out in the field, adrenaline pumping through his body while he ran after the latest idiot who thought that would be a good idea, and another was speaking to someone who he looked up to and they were seemingly upset at him for a reason he couldn't perceive. He could handle the former, it was a combination of confidence in his training and instinct that suppressed his apprehension and genetic need to run away from mortal danger. But the latter was far less simple. There wasn't any training he had ever received on how to be scolded.

Or maybe the truth was that he had been trained too well.

Calderon grunted, first closing the door behind them and then sitting in his chair.

"Quite the opposite, Sergeant. This is an opportunity." Wagner's shoulders visibly relaxed and his tired eyes lit up.

"As you know, Lieutenant Davis is retiring very soon. He tells me one month, but I see his old ass still limping from that gunshot he took last year in the hip." Calderon's face shifted, softening ever so slightly, "truth is I don't think he lasts more than a few more weeks. He's lost his nerve, which is a damn shame. I still remember him as a snarky 3rd year almost twenty years ago, always the first to the action and the last to do his paperwork." Calderon chuckled.

Wagner listened intently. He had the emotional awareness and respect for Davis to suppress a smile, but he was already anticipating where this conversation was headed.

"But since last year, he mostly just wants to do paperwork. I can't say I blame the poor bastard. I don't understand it, but I can't be upset about it either." Calderon sighed, "he was one of the better Lieutenants we have had since I've been here, but that damn gunshot made him age ten years in one.

Damn

shame." Calderon repeated, taking off his peaked cap and putting his massive hand on his forehead, massaging his temples with his thumb and index finger.